#I bring warm bread for you to enjoy
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This is Ours [Logan Howlett]
Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.
Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST
A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)
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For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhoodâdays spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.
Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.
It couldnât get any more perfect than that.Â
But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busyâfirst with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long.Â
You miss it.
This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break youâd had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go.Â
â
The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where youâre sitting in the back of your parentâs car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.
When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that itâs been a while since the grass was last trimmed.Â
Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and thereâs your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. Sheâs smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the sameâwarm, welcoming, and full of love. âThereâs my girl,â she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can.Â
âGrandma!â you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.
She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. âYouâve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. Weâll fix that with some good meals, wonât we?â
You laugh, nodding. âI missed your cooking.â
âAnd I missed having someone to cook for,â she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. âCome inside. Your grandpaâs been counting down the days until you got here.â
You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. Itâs just as you rememberâcozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.
âThereâs my favourite farmhand,â he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair.Â
âGrandpa,â you say, meeting him halfway for a hug.Â
âGot here just in time,â he says with a wink. âPlenty of work to do, you know.â
âI figured,â you reply, playfully nudging him. âIâm ready to get my hands dirty.â
âGood to hear,â he says, leaning back against the table for support. âThis old back of mine isnât what it used to be.â
Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. âWeâve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,â she begins gently. âYour grandpa and I⌠well, we canât do as much as we used to.â
You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficultâit's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.
âWeâve hired some help,â she continues. âA man named Logan. Heâs been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But heâs⌠well, heâs not much of a talker.â
âLogan?â you ask, glancing out the window.Â
Thatâs when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. Heâs wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell heâs strongâhe looks like he knows what heâs doing.Â
âYeah, Logan,â your grandfather confirms. âKeeps to himself mostly, but heâs getâs the job done. Donât mind his gruffness; heâs just not used to people fussing over him.â
âHeâs been here since last spring,â your grandmother adds. âWe needed the help, and he needed the work. Itâs been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.â
Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way itâs always been.Â
The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresserâeverything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. Itâs comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.
After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this roomâs charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behindâa pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.
Youâre standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmotherâs laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfatherâs playful grumbling about having to pose for âjust one more picture.â The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.
Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here.Â
The trek to the barn isnât very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of workâfootsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. Heâs focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others.Â
You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. âLogan?â you call out softly.
He doesnât stop what heâs doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and thereâs a moment where youâre not sure what to say. âIâmââ
âI already know who you are,â he grunts, cutting you off.Â
His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. âRight. I guess that makes sense.â
âIf you wanna help, thereâs a broom in the back shed,â he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. âYou could sweep up the hay.â
You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but youâre determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasnât much of a talker. âSure,â you say. âI can do that.â
As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. âThereâs a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,â you mutter.
In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesnât bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.
Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. Youâre so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Loganâs footsteps stop. Itâs only when his voice breaks the silence that youâre pulled back to the present.
âYour grandma called for dinner,â he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.
Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.
You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.
âSo,â your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. âI take it youâve introduced yourselves to each other?â
You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. âYeah, we have,â you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that.Â
Logan doesnât say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesnât seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if heâs always this closed off or if itâs just his way of dealing with new people.
âWell, thatâs good,â your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. âLoganâs been a big help around here. Weâre so grateful to have him.â
Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, âHeâs got a strong work ethic. Doesnât shy away from the tough jobs, thatâs for sure.â
Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. âThatâs great. Itâs good to know the farmâs in good hands.â Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it.Â
As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what youâve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews youâve had, the options youâre considering, and the challenges youâve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you canât help but notice the manâs presence beside you, still silent.Â
At one point, when youâre talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. Itâs gone almost as quickly as it appears, but itâs enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is heâs thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isnât the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.
They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. âYouâve had a long day, dear. Why donât you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.â
You smile. âThanks, Grandma.â
Heâs already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but itâs like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off.Â
â
The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the houseâthe way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you havenât felt in a long time.
Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.
You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.
Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as youâre whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges.Â
You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse.Â
Your grandparentsâ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that theyâre still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you canât help but smile into your mug.Â
Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. Itâs Logan, a small surprise given the early hourâyou didnât hear him wake upâbut he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand.Â
You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. Thereâs something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didnât expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday.Â
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of himâso different from the unapproachable exterior heâs shown so farâstirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if thereâs more to him than meets the eye.
On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast youâve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan.Â
As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. âThought you might want some breakfast,â you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.
He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours youâve known him, and then he grunts, âAlready ate,â and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.
His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. Itâs not like youâre asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why heâs like this.Â
âAlright,â you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen.Â
Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. This is so fucking awkward. Youâre going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and youâre sure that he probably just seeâs you as an annoying nuisance.Â
And itâs not like youâre ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that heâs acting like he owns the place. You get it, heâs been here for a for a while, and itâs only been him doing the work, blah blah. But youâve been helping and doing the work your entire childhoodâmissing a few years doesnât take away that fact.Â
With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparentsâ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.
â
Youâve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. Thereâs always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think itâs best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take.Â
Once youâve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out.Â
Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everythingâs been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. Itâs the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so itâs a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones youâve seen around the city.Â
You canât really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace.Â
As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. Youâre completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. Youâve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life.Â
Youâre just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesnât say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.
Thereâs a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere.Â
When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Loganâs machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass.Â
You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the otherâthe grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you canât help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan wonât notice, but of course, heâs right there, watching as you flail around.
You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesnât say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined.Â
Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.
The silence between you isnât uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morningâs work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby.Â
After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. Thereâs something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction.Â
You nod. âThanks.â
Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that itâs already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, heâs probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone.Â
â
The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparentâs are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses.Â
Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a wordâhis presence now a familiar and abating part of your routineâor sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know heâs never far away.Â
Youâve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isnât necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesnât speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.
One morning, as youâre finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. âWe need to run some errands and pick up a few things,â your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. âBut we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.â
âThey havenât been to the pond in a while. Itâs good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.â Your grandfather chimes in.Â
You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. Itâs the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. âThat sounds like a great idea. Iâll take them out there for the day.â
Your grandmotherâs eyes light up as she hands you a basket. âI packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. Itâll be a lovely day for it.â
âThank you,â you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. Itâs been a long time since youâve been there last.Â
In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that youâve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.
As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. âHey, Logan,â you say, catching his attention.
âIâm heading to the pond with the horses,â you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. âGrandmaâs packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. Youâre welcome to join us if youâd like.â
He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, âIâve never ridden a horse before.â
The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. âReally? But youâve been here for over a year. I just assumedââ
He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. âIâve always just walked alongside them. Holdinâ onto the reins is one thing, but Iâve never actually been on top of one.â
You canât help the small smile that tugs at your lips. âThatâs okay,â you say gently. âYou can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if youâre up for it, Iâll teach you how to ride.â
Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. âAlright. Iâll come with you.â
âGreat,â you reply, your smile widening. âI think youâll enjoy it.â
With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you.Â
The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horsesâ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, itâs silent.Â
When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.
âIâm going for a quick dip,â you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. Itâs subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.
Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.
You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfectâthe gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface.Â
But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.
Heâs lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeperâŚBut then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.
The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once youâve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket.Â
You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time thereâs a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if heâs trying to be discreet but canât quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.
âIâm starving,â you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. âWant one?â
He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. âSo,â you start, glancing over at him, âhow did you end up here, working on my grandparentsâ farm?â
He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. âI was passing through,â he says finally. âDidnât plan on stayinâ. But your grandparents⌠theyâre good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.â
You nod, taking another bite. âThey are good people,â you agree, thinking of how much theyâve done for you over the years. âBut where were you headed before that? Where are you from?â
Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. âAlberta,â he says. âGrew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Albertaâs homeâor was.â
You smile, finding comfort in the fact that heâs sharing a bit more. âAlbertaâs beautiful,â you say, remembering the few times youâd traveled through the province. âWhyâd you leave?â
He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. âNeeded a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movinâ around, never really settlinâ anywhere.â
You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. âMust have been hard, never really having a place to call home.â
His gaze meets yours, and thereâs a hint of something softer in his eyes. âYeah,â he admits, his voice quieter. âBut your grandparents⌠theyâve made it easier. This farm⌠itâs good.â
You smile warmly at him. âIâm glad youâre here. Youâve been a huge help to them. And⌠well, Iâve liked having you around.â
He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. âYeah, itâs been alright,â he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.
The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. Itâs differentâunexpectedâand to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze.Â
Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasnât just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparentsâ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes⌠all of it.
Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time.Â
You can see your grandparentâs car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning theyâve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure theyâre comfortable for the night.Â
Once theyâre all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you.Â
âSo âbout tomorrowâŚâ He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. âYou really think you can teach me to ride?â
You grin excitedly. âOf course. Iâll come out after Iâve eaten breakfast.â
âAlright then,â he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. âLookinâ forward to it.â
Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield.Â
âHow was your day?â your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.
âIt was nice,â you reply. âThe horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.â
Your grandfather, whoâs been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. âAnd Logan? Did he go with you?â
You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. âYeah, he came along. Heâs never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But Iâm going to teach him tomorrow.â
Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmotherâs eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. âThatâs good, dear. Heâs a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell heâs got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.â
Chatting with your grandparentâs a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Loganâs footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster.Â
â
Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. Heâs leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest.Â
âMorning,â you greet. âYou ready to get started?â
Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. âReady as Iâll ever be.â
You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.
As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. âOkay, now itâs your turn. Go ahead and mount up.â
He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesnât look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.
âYouâre doing great,â you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. âJust relax. The horse can sense if youâre tense, so try to loosen up a bit.â
He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. Itâs clear that heâs out of his comfort zone, but heâs determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.
After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horseâs steps.
âYouâre doing really well,â you tell him, smiling up at him. âWant to try picking up the pace a little?â
He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. âYeah. Letâs give it a shot.â
You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animalâs movements. Thereâs a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes heâs actually getting the hang of it.
As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. Heâs a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell heâs starting to enjoy himself.
Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look thatâs both grateful and slightly sheepish.
âNot bad for a first-timer,â you say with a grin, patting the horseâs neck.
He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. âYeah, well⌠youâre a good teacher.â
The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. Thereâs something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer.Â
âLogan,â you call out, stopping him in his tracks.
He turns back, his eyes questioning.
âThanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.â
Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. âYeah,â he says quietly. âMe too.â
â
The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didnât think was possible.Â
Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Loganâs daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.
Heâs improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and heâs able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasnât there before.Â
And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silenceâthe only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced.Â
Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual.Â
Yet throughout all of this, thereâs a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface.Â
It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that donât really seem to be as accidental as you may think. Itâs in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks youâre not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if heâs memorizing every movement.Â
Youâre not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, youâre in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. Itâs hard, sweaty work, but the itâs kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.
He doesnât say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. Itâs like theyâre telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring.Â
And when youâre both tending to the horses, something happens again. Youâre brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk.Â
âHere, let me help,â he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and heâs already looking down at you. Youâre acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.
Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, youâre both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. Itâs a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.
âSorry,â you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what youâre actually feeling.
âNo problem,â Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool.Â
You can feel it. Youâre not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist itâhow much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and youâre not sure if what youâre feeling is reciprocated, or if itâs just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.
â
Youâre not the only who seeâs it.Â
âYou know,â your grandmother says one afternoon, as youâre helping them with a puzzle. âLogan has really come out of his shell since youâve been here.â
You blink, and glance over at her. âWhat do you mean?â
She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. âOh, you know exactly what I mean,â she says with a knowing smile. âHeâs been here for over a year, and in all that time, weâve never seen him quite like this. Heâs always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now⌠well, itâs clear heâs become quite comfortable around you.â
Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. âSheâs right, you know. Loganâs always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, heâs been different. More⌠engaged, I suppose you could say.â
You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. âI-I donât know about that,â you stammer, trying to brush it off. âWe just⌠work together a lot. Thatâs all.â
Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. âDarling, donât be modest. Itâd be obvious to anyone that thereâs something going on between the two of you. Heâs practically a different man when heâs around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!â
âYouâve managed to do in weeks what we couldnât do in a year. Whatever it is, itâs good for him. And for you, too, Iâd wager,â your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink.Â
Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and youâre honestly not sure how to respond. âWeâre⌠friends,â you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them.Â
The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. âHmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that thereâs potential for something more there, if youâre both willing to see it.â
âI⌠I donât know,â you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. âHeâs just⌠heâs a complicated person.â
âEveryoneâs complicated, dear,â your grandfather says gently. âBut that doesnât mean theyâre not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.â
Thereâs a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadnât fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparentsâ teasing remarks, itâs impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.
Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. âJust take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, weâre here for you.â
â
The following week, you find yourself itching for something newâa change in scenery. While the farm has been everything youâve wanted and more, you think itâd be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation thatâs been on your mind for days.
âSoâŚ,â you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. âI was thinking⌠maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.â
He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. âThe town?â he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.
âYeah,â you say, turning to face him fully. âI need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring⌠It doesnât have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.â
Thereâs a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. Itâs clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasnât done in a long timeâif ever.
âI donât know,â he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. âBusy places are not really my thing.â
You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but youâre not ready to give up just yet. âI get that,â you say. âBut itâs not about how many people are there, really. Itâs about taking a break. Youâve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,â you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.
Loganâs lips twitch as if heâs suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think heâs going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. âAlright,â he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. âIâll go.â
You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. âWeâll leave early on Saturday, okay?â
âSaturday it is,â he confirms.
â
The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environmentâaway from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.
So, when Saturday morning arrives, youâre up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothesâsomething comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attireâand head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.
âOff to the city today, are you?â your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.
âYep,â you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. âand Iâm dragging Logan along with me.â
Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. âWell, that should be interesting. Donât think heâs much of a city slicker.â
âBe patient with him, dear,â your grandmother adds, laughing. âHeâs stepping out of his comfort zone for you.â
âI will,â you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.
Loganâs already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you canât help but falter in your steps. The shirt heâs wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength thatâs always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and thereâs an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if heâs not quite sure what to do with them.
You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, âReady?âÂ
ââCourse,â he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.
The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell heâs starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.
When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day.Â
Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. Itâs clear that heâs out of his element, but thereâs something cute about the way he takes it all in. âWhere to first?â He questions.Â
âWell,â you say, smiling at him, âI was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little cafĂŠ I know, then hit a few shops. Thereâs a bookstore I love that I think youâd like too.â
He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. âLead the way.â
You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something heâs always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.
After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading backâa lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.
The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.
âLogan,â you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, âwhat did you think of me when we first met?â
He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasnât expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.
âI thought you were different,â he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. âYou didnât act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldnât do that.â
You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you werenât just a visitorâyou were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. âAnd now?â you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.
He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, heâs timid, almost bashful, as if heâs revealing something heâs kept hidden for a long time.Â
âI think youâre beautiful,â he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. âI thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But itâs more than that. Now⌠now I think youâre perfect.â
The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what heâs just said.
Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. âI was⌠cold at first,â he murmurs, âDidnât know how else to act. You werenât like anyone Iâd ever met. I didnât know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didnât shy away from thatâyou didnât let my attitude push you away. That changed somethinâ in me.â
You want to say somethingâyou should say somethingâto acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you canât. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.
âWhat about you?â His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. âWhat was your first impression of me?â
His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you.Â
âHonestly? I thought you were rude as hell,â you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. âYou were so gruff, so serious⌠I didnât know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and⌠it didnât take long for my opinion to change.â
He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen.Â
âAndâŚYouâre kind,â you continue. âThereâs this gentleness about you that I wasnât expecting.â You suck in a shaky breath. âI think youâre pretty perfect now too, if Iâm being honest.â
The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. Itâs a rare sightâseeing him like thisâand it makes you swoon.Â
âI donât know about thatâŚâ He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips.Â
âI do,â you reply firmly. âYouâre more than you think you are, Logan.â
The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for somethingâreassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what youâre saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.
Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.
You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. âEw! A seagull just pooped on me!â
The kidâs parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you canât help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.
âWell, thatâs one way to kill the mood,â he mumbles under is breath.
Youâre still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. âYeah,â you agree, trying to catch your breath. âGuess we should be thankful it wasnât us.â
Logan grins, warm and wide. âYeah, maybe we should.â
â
Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and youâre fine with that. Thereâs no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You donât want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction thatâs been building throughout your time together.Â
Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. âThanks for today,â he says sincerely âI⌠liked it.â
You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. âMe too,â you reply, your voice just as soft. âWe should do it again sometime.â
âYeah,â Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. âWe should.â
â
A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.
âWeâve got some news,â she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. âYour grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summersâ cottage by the lake.â
You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. âThat sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.â
âWell, we thought so too,â your grandfather says. âBut that means weâll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.â
It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan⌠alone⌠for an entire week.
Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, whoâs sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But thereâs a quick flash of something that suggests heâs as aware of the situation as you are.
A voice brings you back to the moment. âNow, donât worry,â she says with a reassuring smile. âThereâs not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And weâll be back before you know it.â
Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. âWe trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,â he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. âAnd to keep an eye on each other.â
You canât help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a bufferâyour grandparentsâmeans that literally anything could happen.Â
âDonât worry,â you finally manage to say. âWeâve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.â
Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. âYeah,â he agrees, âWeâll take care of everything.â
â
Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.
Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, âTake care, dear,â she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passengerâs seat.Â
Your grandfather shakes Loganâs hand, giving him a firm nod. âTake care of things.â
He hums. âI will. Enjoy yourselves.â
With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm.Â
Thereâs a pause.Â
Suddenly, youâve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing.Â
âSo,â you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. âI guess itâs just us now.â
Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. âYeah,â he replies a bit deeper than usual. âJust us.â
âWhat should we do first?â you ask as casually as possible.Â
He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. âSame old, I guess. Canât let everythinâ fall apart right when they leave..â
âTrue. Letâs start with that.â
The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though youâre busy with work, thereâs an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each otherâs presence that just wasnât there before. And itâs impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of whatâs to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration.Â
That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, youâre in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents thereâemptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.
And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.
âLong day,â he grunts.
âYeah,â you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. âBut it was nice. Peaceful.â
His eyes find yours. âPeaceful,â he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.
You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. âIâll check on the barn,â he says gruffly. âMake sure everythingâs locked up for the night.â
âOkay,â you reply, your voice softer than you intended.
Logan leaves to check on the barn, while heâs gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils.Â
Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.
A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.
Itâs now or never, you think. âWe have the place to ourselves now,â you state.Â
He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. âIndeed we do,â he replies.
The simple acknowledgmentâand the way he says itâmakes your pulse quicken, and you canât help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. Heâs always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way heâs respected your space, youâre done with tiptoeing around.
âDo I need to spell it out for you, orââ But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves.Â
His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing whatâs about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.
You lose track of your surroundingsâthe night, the farm, everythingâas you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. Itâs intense and claiming, a declaration of everything youâve both been too afraid to say.
His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until thereâs no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that heâs really here, kissing you.
Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing youâve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. Itâs something thatâs so uniquely himâso uniquely Loganâand you canât get enough. Youâve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of itâto the way he kisses you like youâre the only thing that matters.
When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Loganâs forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.
âIâve wanted to do that for a long time,â he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isnât missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your puâ
âYouâre not the only one,â You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.
He exhales a breath you didnât realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. âGood,â he murmurs. âBecause I donât think I can hold back anymore.â
You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. âThen donât,â you whisper against his mouth.
The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Loganâs grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you.Â
The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.
You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, âGod, you drive me crazy,â and then heâs on you again.Â
Itâs wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure.Â
The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core.Â
Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. âYou know,â you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, âas much as Iâm enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.â
Loganâs lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. âAs you wish,â he murmurs.
As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that heâs already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.
âWe gotta go to your room,â you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.âI donât think Iâm ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.â
He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what youâre implying. âOh, is that so?â he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside.Â
By the time you reach his door, youâre practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You canât help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.
You turn to face Logan, but he doesnât give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.
But thereâs none. Youâve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that itâs taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him.Â
His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. âAre you sure about this?â he asks in between kisses.
âAbsolutely,â you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.
He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.
One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.
The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.
You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. Theyâre everywhereâone gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before itâs tossed carelessly to the floor.
Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You canât help the way your hips rock against him, the need for moreâmore pressure, more friction, more him.
Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own.Â
âYouâre so damn beautiful,â he mutters, voice thick with want. âNo idea why I waited so long.â
You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, âDonât need to wait any longer.â
The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. Youâre left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way heâs staring at youâlike youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever seenâmakes you feel powerful, desired in a way youâve never felt before.
He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yoursâbareâ and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of himâstrong, muscular, yoursâmakes your breath catch in your throat.Â
Thereâs a moment where heâs standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then heâs on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.
You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you canât help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.
âLogan,â you breathe out. âPlease.â
His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that youâre on the verge of begging too.
Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.
Loganâs hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. Youâre lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until itâs all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way heâs driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.
And then, just as you think you canât take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. âTell me what you want,â he commands.
You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, âYou. I wantâI need you.â
That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.
The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you canât hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.
âOh god,â you moan. âI need you. Please.â
And then, finally, Logan gives you what youâve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely.Â
Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what youâve both wanted for so long.
He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything youâve been dreaming of and more, and you canât help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.
The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.
And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat.Â
Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.
âYou okay?â he murmurs.Â
You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. âIâm more than okay,â you whisper back, voice full of emotion. âThat was⌠everything.â
A small smile tugs at the corners of Loganâs lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. âYeah, it was,â he agrees.
Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each otherâs arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.
âGet some rest,â you hear, âWeâve got plenty of time⌠no need to rush.â
You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep.Â
â
You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Loganâs breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.
But it isnât long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly
He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there.Â
His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, âMorningâŚâ
The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyesâdark and hungryâtells you that he feels the same way.Â
The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isnât a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.
Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. Itâs like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment youâre together becomes an opportunity.Â
It starts innocently enoughâjust a kiss in the barn when youâre supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.
Or when youâre in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know thereâs no point in pretending. Loganâs hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss.Â
At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.
By the end of the week, youâre exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Loganâs room, the place where it all began.Â
The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.
âThis week⌠itâs been more than I ever expected,â he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. âI donât want it to end.â
You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected thereâthe same desire to hold on to what youâve found together. âIt doesnât have to,â you reply. âWe donât have to go back to the way things were before.â
Loganâs hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. âNo, we donât,â he concurs.Â
â
The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. âWeâre back!â she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.
You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. âHow was the trip?â
âOh, it was lovely,â she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. âThe cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.â
Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. âEverything go smoothly while we were gone?â he asks.
You blush. âYes, everything was fine.â
Then they do that thing theyâve been doing the whole time youâve been with them, where they exchange a glanceâand share a look that speaks volumes. Itâs the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week.Â
âWell, thatâs good to hear,â your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much theyâve guessed.
âSeems like you two managed just fine without us.â Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder.Â
You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. Itâs a way to tell you that heâs just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But thereâs no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.
â
The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger.Â
Itâs not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesnât go ignored. Itâs the little moments that fill your daysâthe way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when youâre working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you donât need it).Â
The work on the farm continues to get done, but thereâs a new layer to everything you doâa sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.
As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. Heâs heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.
âLogan, why donât you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,â he suggests, his tone casual.
Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insaneâthereâs a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. Itâs almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesnât want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town.Â
You have half a mind to join them.Â
The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after heâs turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesnât miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment.Â
âHeâs really got it bad for you, doesnât he?â she says affectionately. âIâve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.â
Your heart blooms in your chest. âI guess he does,â you reply, your voice soft, breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you.Â
Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm âAnd youâve got it bad for him too, Iâd say.â
You laugh. âYeah, I do.â
â
Several weeks later, itâs raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasnât going to go to plan. Youâre sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon.Â
But then you decide to go through some emailsâjust a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Loganâs fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routineânewsletters, updates, the usual clutterâbut then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.
Itâs an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.
Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.
You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is itâyour dream job, the opportunity youâve been working toward for years. Itâs everything youâve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.
You glance over at Logan, whoâs still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life youâve built together, at least for a while. And you donât know whenâor even ifâyouâll be back.
Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. âWhatâs wrong?â he asks.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. âI⌠I just got an email,â you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.
He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what heâs feeling. At first, thereâs no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see itâthe subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows.Â
He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.
Then, âThis is what youâve been waiting for.â His voice is steady, but thereâs a sadness there too, a heaviness that you canât ignore.
You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. âYeah⌠it is.â
Thereâs a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. âYou have to take it.â
You swallow hard. âBut what about us? I donât know when Iâll be back⌠or if Iâll even be able to come back.â
Loganâs hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. âWeâll figure it out,â he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way heâs trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. âYouâve worked too hard for this to pass it up.â
His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way heâs starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.
You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. âI donât want to leave you,â you whisper as the tears finally spill over.
He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he canât bring himself to say. âI donât want you to leave either,â he admits. âBut Iâll be here when you get back. However long it takes.â
And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didnât expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.
â
The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you.Â
In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm lifeâearly mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each otherâs arms, exhausted but content. But now, thereâs a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time thatâs not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadnât quite as often before.Â
These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments youâve shared on the farmâtheyâre softer, more tender, as if youâre both trying to imprint each otherâs presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that youâre still there with him.
Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of courseâLoganâs touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as everâbut now, thereâs a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadnât been there before.Â
Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. Theyâve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and thereâs a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together.Â
Itâs not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you.Â
They donât say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets.Â
Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Loganâs arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.
âYou know,â your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, âI see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.â
You smile, leaning into Loganâs side as you listen to her. âYou two have always been such an inspiration,â you say, meaning every word.
She chuckles, a wistful sound. âIt wasnât always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasnât sure if weâd make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now⌠I know youâll find a way.â
Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. âWeâll figure it out,â he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.
Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. âI believe you will. But just know⌠itâs okay to be sad, to be scared. Thatâs part of loving someone.â
The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. âThank you,â you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.
She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. âYouâll be alright, my dear. Both of you.â
The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each otherâs arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans youâll make when youâre together again. But still, itâs sad.Â
â
Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at duskâinevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is itâyour final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.
He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.
With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breezeâitâs all so beautiful, so full of memories.
You donât realize youâre crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesnât say anything, but the look in his eyes says it allâhe knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.
Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.
âMorning,â he murmurs.
âMorning,â you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..
You just lie there together, wrapped in each otherâs arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. âLetâs go to the pond,â he says delicately. âJust you and me.â
You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where youâve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so itâs only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.
You decide to walk to the pond. Loganâs hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you.Â
You and Logan stand at the waterâs edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.
The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. Itâs not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeksâthis is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the waterâs edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, thereâs only this moment.Â
With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words.Â
Itâs a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says Iâll wait for you.
After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.
Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. âI love you,â he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. âIâll always love you.â
âI love you too,â you choke out. âMore than anything.â
â
Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was differentâthis was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.
Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but itâs impossible to shake the image thatâs burned into your mindâthe image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time.Â
Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.
The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but itâs no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon youâre bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car.Â
You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.
â
The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind.Â
At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that youâre not alone, that heâs still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there.Â
But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when youâre both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.
Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way.Â
Then, one day, the call comesâthe call youâve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. Itâs your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away.Â
You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.
And heâs there tooâLogan. Heâs standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, itâs as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go.Â
The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that youâve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall.Â
âIâm so sorry,â you whisper, everything hitting you at onceâthe loss of your grandfather, the years youâve spent apart, the life you could have had together.
He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. âI miss you,â he murmurs thickly. âEvery damn day, I miss you.â
You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how heâs kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. Itâs clear that the farm hasnât been the same without you, just as your life hasnât been the same without him.
Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but thereâs a calm acceptance in her expression. âIâve made a decision,â she says softly, her voice steady. âIâm going to sell the farm.â
The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. âNot to just anyone,â she adds quickly. âTo Logan. Heâs been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But⌠I need to move into permanent care. I canât manage on my own anymore.â
You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But thereâs also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.
That night, youâre tangled in Loganâs arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.
â
Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. Youâve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfactionâit begins to weigh on you more and more.Â
So, you make a decision.
You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. Itâs a drastic change, but itâs one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life youâve been yearning for, isnât in the city.Â
Itâs back at the farm.
As you step out of your car, you see him. Heâs by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops.Â
Thereâs a lifetime of emotions in that lookâlove, longing, hope. Most of all, thereâs recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment youâve been waiting for all these years.
And when youâre finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago.Â
----
#deadpool and wolverine#logan howlett#logan howlett fic#logan x reader#x men#wolverine#deadpool movie#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett x reader#deadpool 3#hugh jackman#james logan howlett#logan howlett smut#wolverine angst#wolverine smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#james howlett#logan howlett angst#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fanfiction#logan wolverine#the wolverine#marvel#marvel fanfiction
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an angels guide: healthy eating at school
hi angels! you voted and this came first so here it is, an angels guide to eating healthily and focusing on your body and health goals at school. healthy eating at school can be tricky. you use up so much enegry and time in class and studying that meals can seem a little less important. you might end up skipping a meal or eating a meal that ends up not fitting your health goals all because you ran out of time. i have created three categories of lunches to help you find meal inspo: cold lunches, hot lunches and make the night before lunches. also a bonus snack section and some general tips! enjoy angels and feel free to comment your go to lunches/snacks.
Ëââ§ę°á ęŁŕ§ ŕťęą â§âË
tips
bring a bottle of cold water with you to school, drinking water regularly helps you look and feel your best.
eat breakfast! even if you donât get very hungry eating in the morning helps your brain and body function itâs best. try having some fruit or a smoothie if you really struggle to eat in the mornings.
try vitamins/probiotics to help you get all your nutrients and vitamins in.
buy a cute lunch box/food containers to make sure your lunches are adorable.
make a pinterest board of cute healthy lunches to be inspired by!
figure out your health goals and create meal ideas from there. for example: i want to build muscle! that means you need more protein in your diet so plan meals and snacks with lots of protein sources to fit your goal.
Ëââ§ę°á ęŁŕ§ ŕťęą â§âË
a week of cold lunches:
chicken salad: mix chicken, avocado, tomato, cucumber, carrot, corn, salad leaves (lettuce, rocket etc). add mustard and lemon dressing, season well with salt and pepper and fresh dill. dessert: raspberries and blueberries served with peanut butter and greek yogurt.
tuna and avocado pita: mashed avocado and tuna, seasoned with salt and pepper, fill in pita along with rocket and pickle slices. dessert: pineapple and pomegranate fruit salad.
cold rice bowl: mix cooked salmon, rice, cucumbers, cooked broccoli and sliced carrot. sprinkle with sesame seeds and pepper and salt. garnish with a garlic mayo or homemade yogurt garlic sauce. dessert: chopped strawberries dipped in yogurt and coated in dark chocolate and coconut oil left to harden.
feta and turkey wrap: place lettuce, turkey, tomato in a wrap and sprinkle with feta, pepper and salt. dessert: sliced apple (squeeze lemon over to stop apple going brown) with peanut butter, greek yogurt and cinnamon dip.
cold pesto pasta salad: mix cooked penne pasta, homemade pesto, tomato, rocket, avocado, grated parmesan and season with salt and pepper. dessert: tangerine pieces and kiwi.
cold noodles: mix cooked noodles, shredded red cabbage and carrots, green onions, handful of crushed peanuts, chopped cucumber and cover with sesame peanut sauce. dessert: homemade blueberry banana oat muffin.
salmon bagel: add salmon, cream cheese (or cottage cheese), cucumber, rocket, lemon and pepper to a bagel. dessert: blackberries and mango.
Ëââ§ę°á ęŁŕ§ ŕťęą â§âË
a week of hot lunches:
pizza toast: spread homemade tomato sauce on a piece of sourdough bread, cover with mozzarella, add your favourite toppings such as ham, mushroom, olive, pepper etc and bake until cheese melted, serve with rocket. dessert: banana bread and greek yogurt.
stuffed aubergine (or eggplant): sautĂŠ aubergine, onion, garlic, pepper, zucchini and olive, add in tomato paste and season. put in aubergine and sprinkle with cheese. bake until cheese melted. dessert: sautĂŠed apples served warm with yogurt and granola.
chicken meatballs: homemade chicken meatballs cooked with a soy based sauce and red peppers. serve with cooked rice. dessert: strawberry oat crumble.
gyozas: heat or make some gyozas and serve with a cucumber and carrot salad with soy sauce to dip. dessert: hot matcha tea with strawberries.
soup: make your favourite soup and serve with some warm sourdough toast. dessert: watermelon slices.
quesadilla style wrap: fill a whole wheat wrap with cheese, turkey, tomatoes and avocado. cook until cheese melted and warm. dessert: green grapes, blueberries and raspberries.
grilled chicken burrito bowl: mix grilled chicken, rice, avocado, black beans, corn, tomatoes, red onions, cilantro and sour cream with cooked rice and squeeze over lime and season as preferred. dessert: rice cakes with greek yogurt strawberries and melted dark chocolate.
Ëââ§ę°á ęŁŕ§ ŕťęą â§âË
snack ideas:
veggie sticks and hummus.
fruit salad.
frozen banana, peanut butter and chocolate slices.
pretzel thins and sliced cheese.
frozen grapes and lime.
salty popcorn.
yogurt parfait.
cucumber and cream cheese rice cakes.
cookie dough protein bites.
banana peanut butter rice cakes.
homemade oatmeal cookies.
smoothie.
chia pudding.
Ëââ§ę°á ęŁŕ§ ŕťęą â§âË
thank you for reading! happy back to school season. remember to nourish and take care of your body - you deserve it! love, m.
#becoming that girl#clean girl#girlhood#girlblogging#glow up#it girl energy#it girl#just girly things#pink pilates princess#that girl#health & fitness#food
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Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader
Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader
Summary: Azriel had been your closest friend, made from the very same things as youâbirds of a feather, as they say. But you were not the girl he chose to fall in love with. So all you could do was love your mate in the shadows until the day you died. Â
Warnings: angst angst angst
A/n: Inspired by Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish, but this is a more sad interpretation of the song. Hope you enjoy! (Epilogue HERE)
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
I want you to stay
'Til I'm in the grave
'Til I rot away, dead and buried
'Til I'm in the casket you carry
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
A flick of golden brown hair caught your eye as Elain tossed her head back with her lilting laughter. So soft. So beautiful. So charming. You could hardly blame Azriel for being so enraptured by her. To him, she was probably the answer to all his questions, all his insecurities and doubt. To have someone like Elain look at him like thatâŚWell, it seemed like it had healed something in him.
Unfortunately for you, it had done the opposite. It had completely destroyed you. Torn your heart into pieces. Opened new wounds and old wounds. It had shined a light on every single insecurity you felt. Because you had been praying for the day that Azriel would look at you the way he looked at her. But that day had never come and it never would.
You hadnât been good enough for him. Hadnât been beautiful enough to catch his attention like Mor and Elain had. Hadnât been sweet enough to serve as a beacon of light for him. Hadnât been soft enough to bring him comfort.Â
You slipped out of the back door. No one even noticed your disappearance, all too happy in this new little family they had created with all three of the Archeron sisters.Â
Tears lined your eyes as you hugged yourself, slowly walking along the Sidra towards your apartment. You had been naive to think youâd ever have a love like Feyre and Rhys or Nesta and Cassian. Azriel had been right that night youâd overheard him in the High Lordâs office.
The Cauldron had gotten it wrong. It had gotten it all so wrong.
Azriel was your mate. He was supposed to love and cherish you. Not her. But he had never looked your way onceânot like that. Youâd been best friends since the dawn of time, since you had entered each otherâs lives. But that was all the companionship he could give you.
On nights like this, you almost wished you had told him about the mating bond when it had snapped for you. But you had hoped and prayed that he would come to love you for you and not for the mating bond. So you never spoke a word of it to anyone and maybe that had been your mistake. Â
But you didnât want a love that only existed because of the mating bond. You wanted a love that felt real and deepâwith the mating bond only serving as the cherry on top. You didnât regret not telling him. But you did regret sticking around to watch him fall in love with another girl.Â
It didnât help that Elain was the opposite of you. She was all sunshine and flowers, soft warm bread and honey. You were a creature of the night. You were the moon and its shadows, cryptic and grim. It was why you thought you and Azriel got along so well. You were made of all the same things. But he had always hated that about himself so really, it shouldnât have been so surprising that he would look for someone who embodied the opposite.Â
It hurt though, it hurt so much.Â
You were his equal. You lived in the shadows as much as he did. Your soul was made from the same essence as his. You were birds of a feather. You were companions. He was the only one who understood you completely and you were the only one who saw him and loved him as he wasâdarkness and all.Â
You were supposed to stick together through it all.
ButâŚhe hadnât chosen you.Â
You finally made it back to your apartment and hung up your coat before collapsing on your bed and letting the sobs ricochet through the utter silence of your home.Â
Alone once again.Â
As you always would be.
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know
I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone
Can't change the weather, might not be forever
But if it's forever, it's even better
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
All you had wanted to do today was get lost in your book and forget about your own life for a few hours. That was what you had planned, why you were even in the private library at the River House. But of course, the Mother decided to spite you once again.
Azriel sat on the armchair across from you, fiddling with Truth-teller as he ranted about Rhysand for the millionth time. He was still upset about your High Lord telling him to stay away from Elain, even though he had completely ignored those orders anyways. As far as you knew, Rhys hadnât brought it up again.Â
Your jaw was clenched as he brought up Lucien, laminating on how much Elain didnât want him or the mating bond between them. You blinked away the tears that threatened to come. It almost felt like he was talking about the mating bond between the two of youâthe one he still had no idea existed.Â
Your heart was pounding in your chest, your stomach tossing and turning. You were so in love with the male sitting before you, so in love with your best friend. And here you were, listening to him talk about another girl the way you wished heâd talk about you.Â
You cleared your throat when silence finally overtook the library, your eyes darting to the fireplace that was lacking any lightâcold and dustyâthe same way you felt inside.Â
âDonât you thinkâŚâ you started, not looking at Azriel, not sure you wanted to say the words lingering in your throat.Â
âDo I think what?â Azriel raised an eyebrow at you.Â
You looked away again.Â
âI donât know,â you hesitated before continuing, âDonât you think that Rhys might actually have a point?âÂ
You were still focused on the fireplace as you awaited his response with a bated breath. It was the first time youâd addressed his interest in Elain without being positive. But you just had to poke at it onceâjust once to make sure you were right in keeping the mating bond from him.Â
âOh Gods,â Azriel groaned. âNot you, too.â
âIâm just asking,â you said in your defense. âWhat ifâŚwhat if in ten years Elain decides she does actually want to give Lucien a shot? The mating bondââ
âIs godsdamn stupid, is what it is,â Azriel scoffed. âShe doesnât want Lucien, Y/n. She wants me. We want each other. Is that such a bad thing?â
âNo, Iâm not saying that,â you grimaced, âBut what if you find your mate? Would youâŚwould you stay with Elain?âÂ
âOf course I would,â Azriel answered without missing a beat, digging that dagger into your heart a little more. âI donât have a mate and even if I did, I would only ever feel sorry for her. For being cursed and shackled to me. At least Elain is choosing me. She is choosing me, Y/n. Over her own mate. If that isnât love, then what is?âÂ
âI donât know, Az.â You swallowed harshly, your throat closing up the further this conversation went on. You wanted to scream and sew your mouth shut at the same time. âIs that what this is? Are you truly in love with her?âÂ
This was it. The question you had been avoiding for months. And his answer would solidify everything. It would either put the nail in the coffin between the two of you or it would lighten the weight on your shoulders for just a minuteâgive you a modicum of hope to hang onto.Â
âI am,â Azriel snapped, surprising you with his sudden ire. He rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing at you. âWhat is wrong with you? I thought you cared about me. I thought you were my friend, Y/n, and youâre acting just like Rhysand.âÂ
You shot up from your seat, eyes wide. âNo, Az, Iâm sorry. I didnât mean it that way, I justââ
âNo, I get it,â Azriel scoffed, cutting you off. His eyes were ice cold. He had never looked at you like that before. It made your heart pause. âYou just want me to continue being miserable. Because thatâs always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that Iâm finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.âÂ
Tears welled up in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling. All you wanted was Azriel to be happy. It was another reason why you hadnât said anything about the mating bond. Because he was happy with Elain and you didnât want to throw a wrench into that. You hadnât meant anything by asking him those questionsâonly wanted a bit of closure for yourself.Â
Well, you had gotten closure, all right. Azriel would never choose you. He was right. You were miserable and lonely and heartbroken. Why would he choose you? But you hadnât expected him to be so harsh. A simple yes wouldâve done the same. Tears slipped down your cheeks and the anger from Azrielâs eyes was washed away.
But you didnât stick around to hear his half-assed apology. You couldnât. Not when your heart was being ripped apart in your chest, not as bile was rising in your hoarse throat. You dropped your book down on the coffee table before fleeing from the room, ignoring his calls of your name as you left.
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
But you're so full of shit,Â
Tell me it's a bit,Â
Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted
Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
Months went by, all meshing together. You had avoided Azriel since that day in the library. It hurt but being around him hurt even more. It was all you could do to protect your already broken heart. He didnât reach out to you either, instead all of his attention went to Elain.Â
Elain who had finally told Lucien she would never accept their bond.Â
And so Azriel and her had finally proclaimed their love to the whole family. A family you felt yourself slipping away from bit by bit. No one even seemed to notice. After all, it had always been you and Azriel hiding away in the shadowsâcontent to observe and love from the corners of the room.Â
But now it was just you in that corner, all alone.Â
You stopped going to family dinners, stopped hanging around the River House, stopped going to training with the Valkyries. You began to disappear from their lives day by day. You couldnât bring yourself to stay. Not when your mate was in love with someone elseânot as they all started new chapters in their lives and left you behind.Â
You had overstayed your welcome. No longer Azrielâs closest friend and confidant. No longer Cassianâs sparring buddy. No longer an extra ear for Rhys to run court decisions by. No longer Morâs dancing partner or Amrenâs pupil to bully.Â
You became a shadow of yourself. Sleepless nights led to a lack of energy and focus. Constant tears led to being voiceless. You couldnât even resort to alcohol because it made the steely barrier you had put up to block out the mating bond come tumbling down, flooding you with all of Azrielâs feelings. Happiness, joy, lust, desire, satiation.Â
It was just a reminder that you werenât the one giving him those things.Â
But you couldnât disappear the way you wanted to. Not when a new war started with Koschei. Despite months of not being around, Rhysand still sent you a notice to come to a meeting to discuss strategy and to inform everyone of new developments.Â
You wanted to ignore the summons but the thought of Azriel going into battle again without you around to watch his back nearly sent you spiraling. So you made your way to the River House, eyes on the floor the whole time as you stepped inside and hung up your coat.Â
You were about to go up the stairs to get to Rhysâs office when a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You spun around and your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with Azriel. You took a shaky step away from him, your hand coming up to grip at your chest. The mating bond you had been trying to ignore shoved its way through your defensesâbombarding you with Azrielâs emotions once again.Â
His hazel eyes were filled with a bit of guilt and remorse. âY/n, I was wondering if you were going to show up today. IâŚIâve been wanting to talk to you but you havenât been around much.â
Your mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. You didnât trust yourself to speak. Azriel hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking, âI never got to apologize for the things I said to you. It's not an excuse, but Rhys had just laid into me again about Elain before I found you in the library and I took my anger out on you when you were just trying to be a good friend and I am truly sorry for what I said to you. I didnât mean any of it.âÂ
âItâs okay,â you mumbled, looking away from him. His words had felt true that day. Besides, what he said to you mightâve been wrong but that didnât take away from the fact that he was in love with someone else. Regardless of his apology, there was no way you could go back to being his friend. It hurt too much.Â
Azriel seemed to be waiting for you to say anything else and his shoulders deflated a bit when he realized you werenât going to. He gave you a weak smile before summoning something from his shadows. An envelope. He held it out for you to grab. You took it from him with a questioning look.Â
âItâs an invitation,â Azriel explained. âMe and Elain are getting married. I wanted to deliver this to you in person. It would mean a lot to have you there, Y/n.âÂ
You stared at the envelope in your hand.Â
Stared and stared and stared.Â
Even throughout the whole meeting with the Inner Circle, all you could do was stare at that godsdamn envelope. Because inside of it was the last piece of your broken heart, smashed and weeping. Azriel was getting marriedâŚand not to you. To her.Â
So when Rhys announced his plans of attack for Koschei and how he needed someone to act as bait for the Death God, you were the first to volunteer because you truly had nothing left to lose.Â
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
And I don't know what I'm crying for
I don't think I could love you more
Might not be long, but baby, I
Don't wanna say goodbye
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
âAre you sure you donât want to sit up front with the rest of us?â Feyre asked.
You looked up at her from your seat in the very back of the temple, shaking your head. You gave her a blank look. âNo, itâs all right. Iâm fine back here. You know I donât like that attention of sitting near the High Lord and Lady.âÂ
Feyre gave you an understanding nod. âOkay, but you will sit with us at the reception. Iâm not taking no for an answer.âÂ
You nodded to appease her, knowing you had no intentions of staying past the ceremony. You were only here for one reasonâbecause Azriel had asked you to be here and you could never say no to him. So here you sat, your chest empty and your eyes sore from the tears you spilled last night.Â
This wedding felt more like a funeral to you and in some ways, it was. You were saying goodbye to a future you couldâve had with your mate, giving up the final piece of yourself for his sake, and getting to watch him be happy and free, such a bittersweet feeling. All you had ever wished was that he could be happy with you but that was just a dreamâthatâs all it would ever be.Â
Elain looked so beautiful in her wedding gown, as she always did.Â
Azrielâs eyes lit up the moment she came through the doorway, striding down the aisle to him. He held out his hand for her, helping her up the steps to stand before him. They didnât look away from each other for a single moment during the ceremony. He was so in love with her. So in love with her and not youâŚnever you.Â
The whole room was bursting with joy but not you. You were happy for him, of course. But you couldnât help but feel that ache in your chest and everything that came with it. The hurt, the jealousy, the grief.Â
Had he even really wanted you here or had it been a pity invite? It didnât matter because he took no notice of anyone but Elain. So when the ceremony ended and everyone began to make their way to the reception, you slinked into the shadows and disappeared once again.Â
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
I'll love you 'til the day that I die
'Til the day that I die
'Til the light leaves my eyes
'Til the day that I die
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
The battle was over. Koschei had been defeated. You had gone through with serving as the bait for this plan to work. It had cost so much to finally take him down. So many lives, so much power. And you. It had cost you everything.Â
You were dying. Slowly.
But you knew this was the end for you.
Even if you could be saved, you didnât want to be.
You wanted to let death embrace you in his cold arms.
You wanted to leave behind this life finally.
Everyone was still cheering and hugging with relief when you stumbled back into the war camp. You pressed a hand against the deep wound in your stomach, blood bubbling through the cracks in your fingers as you passed by everyoneâno one taking notice of you or your severely injured state.
Not until you made it to the main tent where the rest of the Inner Circle had begun to celebrate the victory.Â
It was Feyre who noticed you first, her gasp alerting the rest of them to your presence. But you were only looking at Azriel as you stumbled into the tent, barely making it past the threshold before you crumbled to the ground. You choked on the blood filling up your mouth, some of it trickling out of your lips.Â
Azriel shouted your name, pushing Cassian out of his way to get to you. He knelt before you, eyes wide with panic as he grasped your shoulders. In the background, you could faintly hear Rhysand shouting for a healer but you knew it was too late for that.Â
You weakly smiled up at Azriel. This is what you wanted. To just see him one last time. To let his face be the last thing you see before death came to take you. You reached a hand out, letting your fingertips brush against his jaw.Â
It took you being gravely injured for the mating bond to finally snap in place for him. You knew the minute he realized. The mating bond hummed in your chest but its song was so quiet nowâŚso, so quiet.Â
It was slowly fraying as your life dimmed.Â
âMate,â Azriel choked out in a whisper, his hand resting on your cheek. His eyes were still full of panic. âYouâreâŚYouâre my mate.âÂ
You nodded, coughing again and more blood slipped out of your lips and down your chin. Azriel shouted frantically for a healer before focusing on you again, his eyes searching yours. âYou knew?âÂ
You nodded again, your body sagging in his hold. He let out a panicked cry and pulled you into his lap. âHow long? How long have you known?âÂ
âA while,â you managed to croak, your fingers raising to caress his jaw again.Â
Azriel stared at you in horror as he shouted again for a healer. You could hear the pounding of feet and other panicked whispers but you tuned it all out. You just wanted to go peacefully. No screaming, no cries. Just you and Azriel for the last second of your life.Â
âWhy?â he cried out, wiping one of your tears away. âWhy didnât you tell me?âÂ
âYouâŚwereâŚhappy,â you struggled to get out, your eyes closing with the effort. Azriel shook your body, tears filling up in his eyes.
âNo, stay awake, Y/n, you have to stay awake,â Azriel pleaded with you. âThe healer is almost here, okay. Just stay awake a little longer.âÂ
âI-ItâsâŚokay,â you mumbled. âWantâŚwant to go.âÂ
You coughed again, blood splatting your face. Azriel released a cry that nearly caused the ground to shake. âNo, you canât. You canât go. Youâre my mate, Y/n. You canât do this to me!âÂ
âIâll findâŚyouâŚagain,â you slurred out. âMaybeâŚmaybe Iâll beâŚgood enoughâŚ.then.âÂ
You blinked once, your vision blurry but you could see Azrielâs beautiful face. Gods, he was so beautiful. He was screaming something but your hearing went along with your vision, slowly worsening until finally, your heart stopped beating in your chest.Â
And with that, the pain was finally gone.Â
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
I knew you in another life
You had that same look in your eyes
I love you, don't act so surprised
⢠âââââââââââââââââ â˘
Epilogue
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar x reader#acotar x you#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel angst#azriel spymaster#acotar angst#Spotify
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âSweet as you
Summary: You and Captain Curly share a meal, despite your irritation regards the device that bakes your food.
Tags: Established Relationship, fluff, before the crash
Words: 0,8k
âšâ Ëâ§ď¸ľâżâŕ¨ŕ§ââżď¸ľâ§ Ë ââš
No matter how many times you stand in the kitchen, Curly would always be amused by the sheer expression of despair on your face. He couldn't lie, it was extremely cute for him to see your brows furrow in irritation and your nose scuffing up slightly.
âYou can't tell me that is cooking.â You mumbles, glancing at the device on the counter and the two packs of different ingredients in your hand. âThis is more likeâŚdark forbidden witchcraft.â
Being stuck in space, between all these stars, means that there is no fresh food, shops, or delivery services. The crew was certainly stuck with the device that mixes packs to make dishes. And as a former self-claimed chef, you hated it. This wasnât cooking, and it never would be.
âFood is food.â The Captain chuckled quietly, bringing some tone into his usually exhausted voice. âAs long as it works and we don't starve.â He took the packs gently out of your hands and placed them onto their respective spots in the cooking device, watching it close and make some bread.
âTold you, evil witchcraft.â You sighed, crossing your arms as you watched the machine whirr to life, producing something that only barely resembled real food. âI miss actual cooking.â You muttered, leaning against the counter. âYou know, where you chop vegetables, sautĂŠ things, maybe burn a little garlic by accident.â
Curly smiled, stepping closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours. âI know,â he said softly, his voice less teasing now. âAnd I miss seeing you in your element, making something real. But hey, when we get out of here, I might see what I can do to improve this experience for you. Who knows, maybe we can get an actual freezer to store products and a stove.â His eyes softened as he looked at you, the exhaustion of space life momentarily lifting.
You looked up at him, your frustration melting a little under his gentle gaze. âYou promise?â
He chuckled, a hand resting lightly on your waist. âOf course. Youâre going to make us a feast as soon as weâre planet-side again.â
You laughed softly, leaning into him. âIâll hold you to that.â The warmth of his body against yours was comforting, and you moved your hands to hold him closer.
Curly pressed a light kiss to your forehead, his hand brushing through your hair. âIn the meantime, weâve got witchcraft bread.â He grinned, reaching for the freshly made loaf. âAnd the company isnât so bad either.â
You smiled, resting your head against his chest. âI guess I can live with that.â
You settled at the small table with Curly, the freshly made bread, and some packets of synthetic jam between you. Despite your earlier complaints, the warmth of the meal and the quiet intimacy of the moment made it feel⌠different. Better. Curly tore off a piece of bread and handed it to you, his eyes soft as he watched you.
You hesitated at first, taking a small bite, expecting the usual bland taste. But somehow, with Curly sitting across from you, smiling like that, it didnât seem so bad. The bread was warm, and the sweetness of the jam clung to your tongue in a way that felt almost comforting.
âYouâre enjoying it.â Curly said, his lips shifting into a grin as he watched your expression soften.
âMaybe just a little.â You admitted, taking another bite. âBut itâs definitely not because of the bread.â You smiled at him, feeling the warmth of the moment wrap around you like a blanket.
Curly chuckled, taking a bite himself. But when you noticed a few crumbs clinging to his lips, you reached out instinctively. âYouâve got somethingâŚâ You murmured, brushing the crumbs off the corner of his mouth with your thumb. His lips quirked at your touch, eyes twinkling.
Before you could pull your hand back, Curly gently caught your wrist, holding it in place. His gaze locked with yours for a moment, soft and teasing, before he slowly leaned forward. His lips pressed against your fingers, and he licked a bit of jam that had smeared onto your skin, his eyes never leaving yours.
A warm flush spread across your cheeks as his lips lingered, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. âTastes better this way.â He murmured with a playful smile.
You couldnât help but laugh softly, heart fluttering at the way he looked at you, so full of affection. âYouâre impossible.â You whispered, feeling the closeness between you like a steady heartbeat.
âMaybe.â He said, still holding your hand gently in his, âBut I make the jam taste sweeter, donât I?â
You rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded as you leaned closer, resting your forehead against his. âYeah, you do.â You whispered, feeling the warmth of him giving you comfort.
#mouthwashing#mouthwashing curly#mouthwashing x reader#mouthwashing x you#captain curly#captain curly x you#captain curly x reader#curly x reader#curly x you#âšââĄâsatori.speaks#âšââĄâwritings
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curiosity killed the cat.
pairing: regulus black x reader.
song inspiration: late night talking by harry styles.
author's note: i've been in such a writing rut lately, but sweet baby boy reggie is singlehandedly bringing me out of it. this idea has been floating in my mind for a while so I hope you all enjoy it. <3
Curiosity killed the cat.
The irony of the phrase wasnât entirely lost on Regulus as he cautiously peered through the bustling kitchen. The elves were cleaning up after supper, humming and working diligently to keep the castle in order behind the scenes. Some of them leaned down to reach for him with soapy fingers, but he narrowly avoided each attempt, baring his teeth in warning.Â
They would not deter him from his true mission to infiltrate the basement. Having explored all the nooks and crannies Hogwarts had to offer, the Hufflepuff common room was his Atlantisâthe last unexplored territory that he had yet to set foot in.Â
In his current state, it was perhaps more accurate to say that Regulus had never set paw in this corner of the castle. Most of the time, he found his spontaneous transformations terribly inconvenient, but as Regulus slipped past the door without a trace, the youngest Black brother was suddenly grateful for his complete lack of mastery over his Animagus form.Â
To be fair, he was only trying to find some peace and quiet. As of late, Regulus had become particularly fond of the kitchens. It was always warm down here and the smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the ovens and beckoned him towards its glorious scent like a beacon. Not to mention the fact that the elves often left a bowl of cold milk for him every night.Â
Well, he supposed it wasnât exactly for him. At least, not his true human form. The elves were not fond of Regulus the person, but they did adore the feral black cat that haunted the halls of Hogwarts.Â
Potato, potato.Â
The point is, that his benevolent caretakers were typically careful about securing the ever mysterious door at the end of his little haven. Lest he get his wily little paws all over those timid badgers. Much to his delight, the security measure was not in place tonight. The door was wide open, presenting Regulus with an offer that was simply too good to pass up.Â
With a shimmy, he slinked behind enemy lines. Despite being located in the lower levels of the castle like the dungeons were, the Hufflepuff common room was far more welcoming. Instead of gothic furnishings and depressing color palettes, Regulus was greeted with warm earth tones and mismatched furniture. Plants of all shapes and sizes littered the room, which were far more pleasant to look upon than the haughty portraits that lined his own common room. At least the mimbulus in the corner didnât sputter out rather unnecessary comments about the length of his curls every time he entered the dungeons.Â
The Hufflepuffs seemed averse to the menacing lighting that his fellow serpents seemed so fond of, choosing instead to illuminate their space with enchanted sun lamps. It was charming and cozy, if one were to take notice of such things. Malfoy would have deemed it greenhouse chic with a sneer that conveyed aristocratic distaste. For that reason alone, Regulus decided he liked the place.Â
The growing fondness was solidified as he followed the intoxicating scent of banana nut muffins. The trail led him to a dorm tucked away into the heart of the basement. Luckily for Regulus, the door was slightly ajar, which was more than enough permission for him to venture inside and make himself comfortable. It was the standard issue roomâtwo beds, two desks, and two dressers. Yet the right side drew his attention.Â
The top of the nightstand was brimming with books, all stacked in no particular order. The color scheme of the blankets and pillows consisted of golds, pinks, and oranges, reminding Regulus of the sunset. Fairy lights and enchanted plants provided a lived in feel, which was more than he could say for his obsessively neat dorm with its alphabetically arranged library and utilitarian furniture. Everything in his room was designed with practicality instead of comfort in mind. A choice he was rather proud of until the stark contrast made his space feel cold and rigid in comparison.
The reading nook nestled beside the hearth drew him in like a moth to a flame. Regulus inspected the cloud chair, stomping on the soft woven blanket and plush pillows with his paw before coming to the conclusion that it was as good a place as any to burrow.Â
This was the life, he said. Or purred, if he was being technical.Â
As Regulus enjoyed the comforts of his newfound paradise, he failed to consider the fact that this dorm belonged to someone and that someone would likely be back any second to reclaim their refuge, given the late hour. Engrossed as he was with licking his paws, Regulus startled when the door swung open. Instantly, he recognized the owner of the dorm as the shy and quiet Hufflepuff that sat beside him in Charms. Regulus lifted a paw to his furry head, feeling foolish that he had not connected the dots earlier.Â
No wonder the banana muffin scent drew him in. Every now and then, he caught a whiff of it in class when you quietly claimed the spot beside him. The colorful scrunchies on the dresser also sparked his memory. How many times had Regulus witnessed you twisting the hair tie around your wrist as you quietly murmured the correct answers to Professor Flitwickâs questions under your breath? It never made much sense to him that you would allow the others to blatter and stutter through topics you were clearly an expert on, but Regulus attributed that to his proximity to pompous know-it-all pricks all his life. Slytherins were known to be showoffs, but you seemed to be the complete opposite.Â
Perhaps that was the reason why he stayed. Well, that and the fact that he was currently too comfortable to even dream of leaving his sanctuary. Really, the decision was made for him. Regulus watched as you settled into your desk, studying diligently as your quill flew across the parchment. Every so often, you leaned back against the chair and stared at whatever problem eluded you as though intimidating the parchment would bring forth the correct answer. It was rather endearing. Dare he say, charming.Â
In his mind, only minutes had passed since the start of your silent companionship, but a glance at the clock said otherwise. It was nearly midnight at this rate. As Regulus grumbled about his inevitable separation from the comfy cloud couch, a group of girls spilled into the room. They briefly said hello to you before gathering at the vanity table on the left side of the room. Regulus assumed one of them was your roommate. Probably the dark haired girl chattering on about the party the Gryffindors were hosting tonight.Â
âDo you think Cormac will be there?â she asked hopefully.Â
The other girls nodded in agreement, asking questions about the older boy with misplaced enthusiasm. Regulus wrinkled his nose. McLaggen, really? Your roommate truly needed to raise her standards. He glanced over in your direction, snorting as he caught the tail end of your grimace. Clearly, you werenât a fan either.Â
After the girls were satisfied with their appearances, your roommate sauntered over to your desk with a friendly smile. âWould you like to come to the party with us, Y/N?âÂ
Before you could answer, one of the other girls rudely interrupted. âOh no, Y/N doesnât go to parties. Sheâs too shy.âÂ
Regulus vaguely recognized the annoyingly nasally tone of the speaker. He thought her name was Brandy or Brenda. Whichever one it was, she always hung around the quidditch team batting her eyelashes and laughing in an exaggerated way that bordered on deranged. It deeply irritated Regulus.Â
âIsnât that right, Y/N? Our little bookworm only prefers the company of her novels. No chance of embarrassing yourself in front of boys when theyâre just words on paper.âÂ
âThatâs mean, Britt,â scolded your roommate.Â
Regulus very much wanted to scamper across the room and bite Brittâs ankles. He lifted his head up as you stood, mentally encouraging you to even the score by chucking a tome at that horrid girlâs head, but instead you simply smoothed down the front of your gingham dress and smiled.Â
âThanks for the offer, Mina, but I think Iâll stay in tonight. You girls have fun though.âÂ
The others were more than happy to flee the awkward tension in the room. You bid them goodbye at the door before closing it behind you. As it clicked into place, you released a sigh. Regulus tracked your movements as you swiped a book from the teetering tower on your nightstand before collapsing into bed.Â
âGod, whatâs wrong with me?â You whispered softly to yourself. âItâs Friday night. I should be going out and partying, but instead Iâm wallowing alone. No wonder everyone thinks Iâm just a boring bookworm.â
Regulus voiced his disagreement. Unfortunately for him, the words came out as a series of meows. He blended in amongst the blankets, his whiskers barely peeking out from a distance. Unaware of his presence, you yelped at the strange cat peering at you from the reading nook. The noise startled Regulus, causing him to launch across the room and into the bed.Â
âOh, itâs just you.â You sat upright, cocking your head at him. Your fingers twitched at your side, probably itching to pet him. You restrained yourself, respecting his general aversion to humans. âIf youâre here to bring me bad luck, then Iâm sorry to say that Iâve got enough of that on my own already.âÂ
In protest, Regulus attempted to headbutt your hand, but it only resulted in an unintentional nuzzle. You chuckled in amusement before carefully patting his furry head. He dodged your hand and swiped at your leg, but the padding motions quickly turned to him just making biscuits on your thigh.Â
You chuckled in response. âHm, everyone says youâre a mean kitty, but I think youâre just a little misunderstood.â Regulus huffed, but his displeasure was short lived as you scratched under his chin. He was only slightly embarrassed at how eager he was to receive more. âLook at us, we make quite the pair.âÂ
At that, Regulus purred in agreement.
From that night forward, Regulus became a frequent visitor. He hadnât intended on making a habit of it, but every time Regulus accidentally transformed, he found himself in your dorm. It wasnât his fault that it was warm and toasty and smelled like pastries. If you werenât trying to attract a feral cat, you shouldnât have made your room so inviting.Â
During one of his visits, your roommate walked by and yelped at the sight of him. Regulus lifted his chin up in challenge as he claimed his rightful seat on your lap. âIs that the feral cat that almost took off Cedricâs fingers?âÂ
Regulus purred in answer. He was rather proud of that moment. Wouldâve gotten away with it too had it not been for Diggoryâs quick reflexes.Â
You barely looked up from your book as you combed through his fur. âMhm. He likes to follow me around sometimes. Heâs like my little shadow.â A bright smile curved against your lips. âOh, I think we found you a name. Shadow.âÂ
From then on, Regulus wore the name like a badge. The name seemed to awaken more of his animal instincts because his spontaneous transformations became a rather frequent occurrence. At the beginning, they were isolated to nights and thus easier to manage, but now his Animagus form seemed to have no respect for convenience. As of late, the transformations were happening more and more often with absolutely no rhyme or reason.Â
The only common denominator seemed to be you. Every time Regulus was in his Animagus form, he sought you out. Whether he was interrupting Potions class to jump in your lap or resting next to you in the courtyard while you read, Regulus was resigned to the fact that he would end up in your proximity one way or another. He basked in the attention you showered him with, shamelessly nuzzling against your hand for more chin scratches and cuddles. It became a routine for the two of you. Most nights, you read in silence as he curled against you for warmth, but other nights, your inner monologue spilled out and he listened to you grapple with your shyness and anxiety.Â
Funny, you didnât seem all that reserved around him. But then again he had taken on the form of a grumpy yet harmless cat. You were none the wiser that Regulus Black was currently purring for more pets as you lamented over the events of the day. He listened intently, not quite understanding your desire to become more sociable. You seemed to view it as a deficiency, but Regulus had always leaned towards the extremities of introvertedness. Though in his case, no one batted an eye when he was abrupt and abrasive. It was just how he was.Â
Hufflepuffs, on the other hand, were expected to be sunshine and butterflies. You were, Regulus thought. In your own quiet way, you radiated joy. It wasnât loud or obnoxious or overbearing. It was just right. Regulus longed to tell you just as much, but it wasnât like he was in a position to. Outside these late night talks, the two of you hardly spoke a word to one another.Â
Perhaps it was time to change that.Â
The first time Regulus tried to speak to you was a complete and utter disaster.Â
It was bright and early on a Monday morning. You slipped into your seat a few minutes before the start of Charms. The two of you were always the first ones in class, so he figured it was an opportune time to strike up a conversation without overwhelming you.Â
âHow was your weekend?âÂ
You blinked up at him, surveying the room covertly as though you werenât quite sure that he was speaking to you. Regulus watched you flush as you realized that he was indeed addressing the question to you.
âIt was good,â you responded cautiously. âHow was yours?âÂ
Regulus paused. âIt wasâŚfine.âÂ
Never in his life had he wanted to swan dive into the Black Lake and become fodder for the merpeople. The response was a natural conversation killer, but he couldnât very well tell you that he spent the entire weekend lounging in your dorm as you read Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time. That little revelation probably wouldâve resulted in a restraining order.Â
The short and awkward dialogue made him cringe internally, but you simply smiled politely at him. For Salazarâs sake, where was the basilisk when Regulus needed it?
When lunch came around, he was still pondering the less than lackluster encounter. Regulus needed to find a way in. As his friends chattered and chatted, he stared intently across the Great Hall and watched you. Things were so much easier when you thought he was a cat.Â
âReg, mate, you havenât blinked for like five minutes. Youâre really starting to freak me out.âÂ
The annoying little quip from Nott brought Regulus out of his stupor. Had he truly been staring for that long? He hoped to Godric that you hadnât caught him being an utter creep. A sly glance told him that you were none the wiser as you continued chatting with Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley. He turned to Theodore and frowned.Â
âWhat are you staring at, anyways?â asked Mattheo. The curly headed git surveyed the room for the object of his friendâs focus, which only made Regulus more irate.Â
âNothing,â Regulus mumbled.Â
Riddle, ever the menace, grinned as he spotted you. âDoesnât look like nothing to me.âÂ
He elbowed Theo, who smirked once he too caught sight of you. âSay, Reggie, donât you have Charms with that cute little Hufflepuff?âÂ
âShut it, Nott.âÂ
âWhoa, a little touchy there, arenât we? No need to fret. I wonât turn my Italian charms on her. After all, I wouldnât dare go after one of my mateâs crushes.âÂ
Regulus bristled. âI do not have a crush.âÂ
âSure, mate, and Iâm Harry bloody Potter,â scoffed Mattheo. âYouâre not fooling anyone, you know.âÂ
âDoes this conversation have a purpose besides showcasing your remarkable skill of grating my nerves?âÂ
âAw, Reggieâs upset.â Mattheo and Theodore chuckled as Regulus stood abruptly. He flung the napkin onto his plate and walked off without explanation. âDonât worry, mate. We wonât tell anyone about your secret girlfriend.â
Unfortunately for Regulus, the childish teasing gained traction over the next few days. Trust Nott and Riddle to be a general nuisance to his everyday life. Every time you walked past Regulus in the halls, his friends (debatable as of late) would nudge him and smirk. Given that Mattheo and Theo possessed the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, you were definitely beginning to notice.Â
Even worse, Lorenzo had taken it upon himself to chat you up in the courtyard. Regulus looked on in horror as his best friend laughed and gesticulated alongside you on the bench. His presence had not gone unnoticed by their fellow classmates. A crowd of Hufflepuffs began crowding near your usual spot under the willow tree and Regulus could easily spot the tell-tale signs of your anxiety blooming. He needed to put an end to this.Â
âBerkshire, can I talk to you for a second?âÂ
Lorenzo appeared completely unbothered as he nodded. âSure, just let me wrap up here. Reg, youâve met Y/N, right? She was kind enough to lend me notes for History of Magic.âÂ
You looked up and gave Regulus a shy wave. The desire to throttle Lorenzo diminished by a few notches. âSorry about him. Berkshireâs a bit overeager. Not fully trained, you see.âÂ
His friend protested the accusation. âHey, Iâm standing right here!âÂ
Regulus ignored his protests. Lorenzo might as well have been halfway across the world with how little attention he paid to his friend. He was far too busy being enamored with the way you tried to bite back a grin.
âThank you for indulging him. Iâll make sure he doesnât go off leash again.âÂ
You chuckled. âItâs alright, really. Iâve got a habit of attracting strays.âÂ
âWhere is that little monster of yours, anyways? Busy clawing off some unsuspecting studentâs face?â Lorenzo quipped.Â
âShadow isnât so bad. Heâs actually very sweet, once you get to know him.â
Regulus tried not to grin.Â
Lorenzo shot him a knowing look. âSounds like someone else I know.âÂ
Regulus rolled his eyes. âSorry again about him. Iâll make sure he returns your notes.â He tugged Lorenzo by the collar. âNow letâs go, Berkshire. Weâre going to be late for practice.âÂ
âBye, Y/N!â Lorenzo called over his shoulder. âDonât be a stranger.âÂ
âBye, Lorenzo,â you said with an amused smile. âIâll see you in class, Regulus.âÂ
Regulus couldnât help but smile. âSee you in class, Y/N.âÂ
Thanks to his meddlesome friends, Regulus kept finding himself in less than ideal situations. The twats seemed determined to force you two together. Lorenzo, most of all.Â
Every time they studied in the library, you seemed to conveniently be seated a few desks away. Every time they were walking back from quidditch practice, you coincidentally seemed to be headed to the greenhouse. Every time Lorenzo fetched something in his locker, you just so happened to be walking by between classes.Â
It was during one of these times that Regulus overheard Britt making snippy little comments about your dresses and bows, commenting on how you were always lost in your books, even citing the fact that the feral cat had taken a liking to you because birds of a feather flock together. Your roommate defended you, but she was a lone voice amongst the other mindless girls who laughed along with Britt. The next time Regulus ran into her in his cat form, he made sure to hiss and claw at her.Â
In terms of finding his way in, Regulus had yet to crack the code. When it was just you and your Shadow, you spoke to him for hours and hours. But when he was actually himself, you were so quiet and reserved.Â
âWhy donât you just talk to her?â Lorenzo offered.Â
The glare Regulus cut his way was sharper than a splicing spell. âIâve tried, but Iâm terrible at it. I asked her about the weather, Enzo. The bloody weather!âÂ
To his credit, Lorenzo didnât laugh. Instead, he seemed deep in thought. âYouâve got to find out what sheâs passionate about. Whatâs something that she could talk about for hours and hours?âÂ
Regulus bolted out of his chair, startling Lorenzo. âYouâre a genius, Berkshire.âÂ
His friend looked utterly confused. âThanks, I suppose?âÂ
Half an hour later, Regulus found himself standing in a labyrinth. Plot Twist, the largest bookstore in the village, was as magical as you described it to be. Each aisle was filled to the brim with books, the shelves winding and twisting in on itself to reveal even more volumes. Soft classical music played throughout the shop, its interior filled with kitschy trinkets and illuminated by enchanted candles.
If Regulus recalled correctly, the latest installment of your favorite series just recently released. You mentioned it to Ginny in the Great Hall last week while he lounged on your lap. Was it ethical to eavesdrop on your conversations and use the information he gleaned to grow closer to you? Perhaps not, but he couldnât help it. Cunning was in his nature. There was a reason Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, after all.
So here he was on a Friday afternoon, looking absolutely engrossed in the romance section of the bookstore. Regulus picked up a novel from the display. One of your favorites, of course.Â
From the corner of his eye, Regulus glimpsed your entrance into the store. Naturally, you were headed in his direction since romance was your preferred guilty pleasure. He pretended to skim through the summary despite the fact that he already read the book in its entirety. When you were reading it back in your dorm, you blushed so much that he had to see what the fuss was about for himself.Â
âOh, thatâs a really good one,â you said shyly.Â
âYeah?â Regulus asked, noting the pretty flush dusting your cheeks. âHave you read it before?âÂ
âAbout a thousand times.âÂ
âWhatâs the verdict, then? Would you recommend it to me?âÂ
You cocked your head in observation, taking him in. Regulus was acutely aware that he didnât fit the usual demographic of romance novel readers. Hell, even his all black ensemble clashed with the vibrant book covers.Â
âI know, I know. I have the looks of someone who would rather binge murder mysteries, but Iâm trying to branch out.âÂ
The grin you gave him made his heart stutter. âWell, Iâd be more than happy to be your guide.âÂ
Regulus had no idea why he hadnât realized it sooner. Booksâthat was the gateway to your heart. He listened in fascination as you pulled books from the shelves, talking a mile a minute about your favorite authors, characters, and tropes. You lit up the entire room as you spoke, filling the place with your infectious energy. He had only ever seen you this way in the comfort of your own dorm, so he relished in the fact that he was witnessing this not as Shadow but as Regulus.Â
âOh my god, Iâve been rambling. Iâm so sorry. Once I start, I just canât seem to stop.âÂ
He smiled softly. Regulus could have listened to you talk about books for the rest of his life and never grow bored. âI donât want you to stop. I like that youâre so passionate. Itâs adorable.âÂ
Suddenly, Regulus wished he had a camera because the sight of you smiling up at him was a memory that needed to be captured and immortalized. For now, he settled for its dizzying aftereffects.Â
âThank you for letting me talk your ear off,â you said shyly as the two of you made your way to the counter.Â
âNo, thank you for helping me expand my horizons.â Regulus countered as he set both of your books down.Â
You started to fish for your wallet, but Regulus simply waved you off. âPlease, let me.â The shopkeeper gaped at him. âWould you mind putting everything on my tab?âÂ
âOf course, Mr. Black.âÂ
âRegulus is fine.âÂ
âSure thing Mr.âI mean, Regulus.âÂ
As the shopkeeper carefully packed up the books, Regulus leaned in. âYou can call me Reg, if youâd like. Reggie, if youâre feeling particularly brave.âÂ
You beamed. âThank you, Reggie.âÂ
âYouâre welcome, Y/N.âÂ
The Monday after the breakthrough, Regulus marched into Charms with purpose. You glanced up in amusement as he settled into his seat.Â
âYou were right. Your recommendations were fantastic. I read it all in one sitting.âÂ
âWhich one?â you asked curiously.Â
Back at the bookstore, you had gotten a little overzealous with the recommendations, but at the end, you managed to narrow it down to your absolute top picks.Â
âAll of them.âÂ
Your jaw nearly dropped. âYou read all of them?âÂ
Regulus shrugged as if it were no big deal. âYes.â
âEvery single book?âÂ
âMhm.â
âBut I gave you six recommendations,â you stated incredulously. You considered yourself a voracious reader, but Regulus Black was giving you a run for your money.Â
âAnd I devoured every single one.âÂ
As it turns out, that was all it took to unlock the floodgates. Soon your conversations flourished from books and literature to hobbies and future plans. Regulus could tell that you were warming up to him. The conversations that were once isolated to the Charms classroom flowed easily outside of it as well.
The first few times you were spotted together, it turned a few heads.Â
Regulus had never been particularly known for his sociability, so he supposed it was a rather strange sight for everyone else to find him practically glued to your side. Never mind that heâd done it a hundred times before as your Shadow and no one ever said a word about it back then. As he spotted you in your usual spot under the willow tree, he found that he really didnât give a damn what anyone else thought of your newfound friendship.Â
âIs this seat taken?âÂ
You nodded as you moved your belongings to make room for him. âYes, by you.âÂ
Regulus dropped his backpack by his feet before stretching his long legs out on the wooden bench. You watched in amusement as the wood creaked under his weight. âI prefer to be horizontal when I read. You donât mind, do you?âÂ
âKnock yourself out, Mr. Black.â
âThatâs Regulus to you, love.âÂ
âI thought it was Reg.âÂ
âActually, I prefer Reggie. But only if itâs being used by you.âÂ
âOkay, Reggie.âÂ
He couldnât help the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.Â
Despite spending time with you during the day, Regulus still made his visits in the night. He truly just couldnât get enough. Thanks to his questionable methods, you were starting to open up to him more. Just that morning, the two of you ate breakfast together in the Great Hall. You teased him for eating such a bland meal.Â
âHonestly, Regulus. We attend a magical school. You could ask for anything your little heart desires and you choose to eat gruel?âÂ
âItâs not gruel. Itâs oatmeal.âÂ
âMy point exactly.âÂ
âWhatâs wrong with oatmeal?âÂ
âNothing, I suppose. If you prefer eating cement for breakfast.âÂ
âYouâre awfully judgmental. Letâs take a closer look at your choices. A chocolate chip muffin? You might as well swallow a spoonful of sugar and call it a day.âÂ
âMy apologies, Mr. Black. I forgot that you abhor flavor. Shall we share your cement goop, then?âÂ
âAfter you insulted my culinary preferences? I think not, Y/N.âÂ
Needless to say, the two of you got along like a house on fire. Both of your friends constantly teased you about the newfound friendship. Regulus simply rolled his eyes and brushed off the comments, but even his mates noticed the way he smiled every time you were mentioned. You knew your friends were bursting at the seams with questions regarding Regulus, but to their credit, Ginny and Luna were happy seeing you happy.Â
Not everyone shared their enthusiasm though. Britt, in particular, was rather cross. It made no sense that someone like you would catch the attention of Regulus Black. She had harbored a crush on the youngest Black since third year and he could barely even spare her a glance, yet here you were receiving his full and undivided attention. Britt was seething with jealousy. She simply could not accept losing to you, of all people.Â
Perhaps you dosed Regulus with a love potion. Perhaps he pitied you, viewed you as some wounded animal to save. Either way, Britt was convinced that Regulus wasnât meant to be with someone like you. A shy and quiet girl who could never hope to hold his attention for long. She just had to make Regulus see it. The perfect opportunity presented itself one Friday afternoon.
In the crowded hall, Regulus shielded you from the incoming traffic of students rushing to their next class. It wasnât much of an effort on his part since your fellow classmates cowered and parted as soon as they caught sight of your companionâs scowl.
âReggie, could you try not to scare the first years away?â You teased, bumping your hip against his. âPoor Anderson looked ready to cry when you glared at him.âÂ
Regulus bumped you back. âHe nearly stepped on your foot.âÂ
âDid that really warrant you threatening to hide bullfrogs underneath his pillows?âÂ
âYouâre right, Iâve gone soft. I shouldâve threatened him with fire serpents instead.âÂ
âYouâre hopeless, Regulus.âÂ
Regulus placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. âYou wound me, ma chĂŠrie.âÂ
The nickname made you flush. Regulus had never been more thankful that French was his native tongue. The language of love certainly had its effect on you.Â
âHowever will you live?âÂ
âIâll tell you what, if you come keep me company tonight, then all will be forgiven.âÂ
âIâm not helping you sneak bullfrogs into Andersonâs dorm.âÂ
He pouted in response. âFine. I suppose we can have a quiet night in. Come join the dark side. We can read together in the common room.âÂ
âThe dungeons?â You asked apprehensively.Â
Though youâve gotten used to the occasional Slytherin greeting you in the halls, the whole lot of them still terrified you. You werenât quite sure how you felt about marching right into the serpentâs nest.Â
âItâll just be us,â Regulus added softly. âIâll make sure of it.âÂ
The way he eased your worries was endearing. You bumped his hip again. âYou canât just kick people out of their own common room.â
âIâm Regulus Black,â he said haughtily. âOf course I can.â Regulus draped an arm over your shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. âCome on, I know youâre dying to read that new novel you bought last weekend.âÂ
You rolled your eyes affectionately. He knew you too well. âYou mean, the novel that you bought me. Against my will, thank you very much. I will pay you back.â Regulus started protesting, but you only held your hand up. âYouâre right, though. Iâm convinced. Iâll bring the snacks. Chocolate frogs for me and a bowl of gruel for you.âÂ
You yelped as Regulus dug his fingers into your side. âItâs a date, love.âÂ
Regulus paced back and forth, watching the door to the dungeons. To say he was nervous wouldâve been an understatement.Â
As soon as classes were dismissed for the day, Regulus wasted no time. He raced back to the common room and made sure everything was perfect. The boys were taking the piss out of him, but he paid no mind to them as he fluffed the pillows and draped a blanket over the couch.Â
âOoh, what type of candle is this?â Theo asked as he wrapped his grimy little fingers around the banana nut muffin scented candle.Â
Regulus smacked his friendâs hand away. âDonât touch that.âÂ
Mattheo snickered as he took in the scene before him. âYou must really like this girl, Reg. I donât think Iâve ever put in this much effort for a date.âÂ
âYeah, and howâs that working out for you?â Regulus snipped. Blaise and Pansy snorted in response.Â
Lorenzo bit back a smile. âI think itâs nice. Y/N will love it.âÂ
âYou think so?â Regulus asked absentmindedly. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect. The dungeons were a far cry from your dorm, but Regulus did his best to emulate the comfort it provided. âItâs not too much?âÂ
âItâs a bitâŚcozy for my taste,â said Draco. Regulus fought the urge to throttle his cousin. To be fair, Draco hated anything that wasnât French or expensive. âBut Iâm sure your girl will love it.âÂ
âSheâs not my girl,â Regulus corrected. âNot yet, at least.âÂ
Tom shot a disinterested glance at him from the couch. âWhat on earth are you waiting for? Youâve been pining over her for months. Your yearning is starting to sicken me.âÂ
Mattheo grimaced. âI think thatâs Tomâs way of encouraging you to make a move.âÂ
âConsider me encouraged,â Regulus said with an eye roll. âNow everyone get out.âÂ
As his friends filtered out, Lorenzo patted him on the back. âGood luck, mate.âÂ
Luck had nothing to do with it. Regulus refused to take his chances on such a finicky thing. He was far too resourceful to leave things up to chance. Instead, he compiled everything heâs learned about you to ensure that you wouldnât feel overwhelmed.Â
At exactly six oâclock on the dot, Regulus opened the door to the dungeons. He smiled when he found you standing in the corridor, fidgeting with the hem of your sunflower dress. You clutched your book to your chest as he stepped through the threshold.Â
âHi, Reg,â you greeted shyly.Â
âHi, love.â Regulus offered his arm, which you gladly took. âCome on in.âÂ
You werenât sure what to expect at first, but you found the dungeons to be quite cozy. The waves from the Black Lake gently lapped against the stained glass windows, the murky waters shimmering across the onyx floors. The furnishings were all dark wood and harsh lines with pops of emerald tying everything together. The velvet couch was piled with pillows and candles illuminated the space, providing a warmth and coziness that you never wouldâve attributed to the dungeons.Â
âThis is quite lovely,â you said softly.Â
Regulus took your bag from you and set it gently on the marble side table. âIâm glad you think so.âÂ
âWhereâs everyone else?âÂ
âOut,â Regulus responded. âIf theyâre smart, theyâll stay that way.âÂ
You chuckled. âI guess it pays to be mean and scary.âÂ
âTo everyone else, yes.â Regulus said as he guided you over to the couch. âNot to you, though.â
The sentiment made you smile. âWell, big scary Reggie, thank you for inviting me over. As promised, I came bearing snacks.âÂ
As you laid out a treasure trove of treats, Regulus watched with an amused smile. âFor Salazarâs sake, Iâm getting a cavity just looking at all of this candy.âÂ
You grinned as you waved a sour gummy worm in the air. âBut itâs good, though.â Regulus backed away from the neon colored candy with a grimace. âCome on, Reg. Try it.âÂ
âNo, thank you.âÂ
âPlease,â you pleaded, poking his cheek with the worm. âJust one little nibble. I know you want to.âÂ
âYouâre a terrible influence,â he sighed defeatedly.Â
Regulus leaned over, his lips brushing against your fingers as he took a small bite. You flushed furiously, heat prickling your skin as his emerald gaze pierced through you. From this close, you could make out the golden flecks swimming in his irises.Â
âItâs a bit sweet,â Regulus murmured. His eyes never left yours as he held your wrist in place, devouring what was left of the sour worm. âBut Iâve grown an appetite for sweet things lately.âÂ
Regulus licked flecks of sugar off of his lips, smirking when he caught you staring. You cleared your throat, eager to diffuse whatever tension was brewing between you. He tracked your movements as you retrieved your book and daintily perched yourself on the couch.Â
âShall we?âÂ
A comfortable silence befell the common room, broken only by the lulling crash of the waves against the windows. It baffled you how at ease you were in the dungeons. Usually, it took a bit of time for you to adjust to new environments, but something about this place seemed familiar. You felt safe here, thanks to the boy sitting beside you.Â
As you curled up on the sofa, Regulus assumed his position. He scooted towards you, placing his head on your lap and stretching his long legs out until they touched the other end of the couch. With a smile, you peered at him as he nuzzled against your free hand. Regulus sighed in satisfaction when you ran your fingers through his curls. The action reminded you of your little Shadow.Â
You had no idea how you hadnât realized it sooner, but the two of them were similar in a lot of ways. They were both standoffish and prickly on the outside, but complete softies on the inside. The thought made you chuckle.Â
âWhatâs so funny?â Regulus murmured. Despite the fact that the two of you were supposed to be reading, his book remained perched on his stomach while his eyes fluttered close.Â
âItâs just hard to reconcile grumpy Regulus to the Regulus that practically begs for his head to be scratched.â
Regulus scoffed. âI do not beg.âÂ
You placed your hand back in your lap. Regulus furrowed his brows as he glanced up at you. With a soft nudge to your side and a matching pout to boot, he single handedly proved your point. âWhyâd you stop?âÂ
The pointed look you gave him made Regulus flush. âFine, I suppose Iâm not above begging.âÂ
You raised a brow, which only made him sigh in defeat. Regulus lifted your hand and placed it back atop his curls. âPlease?âÂ
âOnly because you asked nicely, Reggie.âÂ
The rest of the evening was blissfully peaceful as the two of you continued reading. Well, you were reading. Regulus, on the other hand, hadnât even cracked open his book. You could feel the intensity of his gaze boring into you while you pretended to be engrossed in your novel.Â
âDo I have something on my face?â You asked self-consciously.Â
âNo.âÂ
âThen why are you staring?âÂ
Regulus sat upright and faced you, his emerald eyes locking onto yours. His expression was soft as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, knuckles brushing along your jaw.Â
âBecause youâre beautiful.âÂ
The air left your lungs as Regulus beheld you. The calluses on his thumb stroked your skin as he caressed your cheek. You shivered at his touch, at his scent, at his closeness. Regulus was like poetry come to life. A work of art that moved and breathed and mesmerized everyone around him. If anyone was beautiful, it was him.Â
âReggieâŚâÂ
The words died in your throat when Regulus brushed his thumb over your lips. âY/NâŚâÂ
Little by little, the gap closed between you. Anticipation swelled in the room, enveloping everything with unspoken tension. You felt like a harp string pulled taut, waiting for release. Just as Regulus tilted your head back, a loud smack echoed through the dungeons.Â
You nearly jumped out of your seat, but Regulus shielded you behind him, keeping you close. A stream of people made their way through the common room, trampling the once serene atmosphere. The commotion from earlier seemed to be coming from the large keg that Adrian Pucey was now rolling across the stone floor. The other Slythering began clearing the furniture, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.Â
Regulus was incensed. âWhat the fuck is going on?âÂ
One by one, his friends streamed in. Blaise was the first to squeeze through the crowd. âCommon room party, apparently. We ran here to warn you, but they were already rolling the kegs through the corridor before we caught up.âÂ
Theodore and Mattheo pushed their way through a couple of fourth years. At their complaint, the two boys glared at them so intensely that they slowly started to back away.Â
âThe fuck are you looking at?â Mattheo barked.Â
âAre you deaf or just thick? Get fucking lost, mate,â Theo added menacingly.Â
You flinched at the display of aggression. Regulus clocked the reaction and pulled you closer before frowning at his friends. Theodore elbowed Mattheo when he caught sight of you, who in turn elbowed Theodore back.Â
âSorry about that, Y/N.â Theodore drawled, his Italian accent seeping through the words. âWe didnât see you there. Usually, weâre more well-behaved in the presence of a lady.âÂ
âThatâs a lie,â Pansy interjected. âYouâre horrid around me all the time.âÂ
âIâve known you since we were in diapers, Pans. Youâre certainly not a lady,â Theodore quipped.Â
âWhy, you little twatââÂ
âGuys,â Regulus scolded.Â
Pansy stopped in her tracks, sighing as she put her hand down after landing a smack on the back of Theodoreâs head. She offered her hand. âRight. Well, this isnât how we thought our first introduction would go, but itâs nice to finally meet the infamous Y/N. Regulus talks about you all the time.âÂ
You flushed as you took Pansyâs hand. âItâs nice to meet you too, Pansy.âÂ
âMe next,â Theodore exclaimed. âTheodore Nott, at your service.âÂ
The floppy haired boy bowed cheekily before taking your hand in his and kissing your knuckles. Regulus glared daggers at his friend, but you merely giggled in amusement.Â
âMove, Nott. Itâs my turn now.â Mattheo smacked Theodore away and enveloped you into a hug. âMattheo, the most handsome Riddle. Although donât tell my brother that. He might hex me. Anyways, nice to meet you." He paused, sniffing your hair unabashedly. "Oh! Reg is right. You do smell nice.âÂ
âRiddle,â warned Regulus.
Mattheo only winked at you before stepping aside. You exchanged introductions with Blaise and Draco next until Lorenzo caught up with the rest of the group. He gave you a warm hug before explaining that someone had printed out posters promoting a party that none of the Slytherins had any clue about. Of course, it didnât take much convincing on his housemates' part before they jumped on the bandwagon, hence the packed common room.Â
âIâm so sorry,â Regulus said as he turned over to face you. â I didnât know any of this was happening.â
Worry marred his beautiful face. Though the situation was a little more than overwhelming, you didnât want Regulus worrying on your behalf. It was touching, truly. But you could try to push through it.Â
âItâs okay, Reg. Iâm fine, really.âÂ
âWe can leave,â he offered. âFind somewhere more quiet.âÂ
âAlready?â Mattheo asked, pouting. âBut we havenât even played butterbeer pong yet! Dibs on Y/N as my partner.âÂ
âNo fair! I was going to ask her,â Theodore said, shoving Mattheo. His curly headed friend shoved back, which only escalated into Theodore putting him into a headlock. You shook your head in amusement.Â
âSorry to disappoint, but I have no idea how to play butterbeer pong.âÂ
Mattheo slithered out of Theodoreâs hold and beamed. âOh, itâs easy. You just arrange a bunch of cups into a pyramid and then take turns shooting ping pong balls into them. Surely, youâve handled balls before, right?âÂ
The double meaning was not lost on the group. Regulus tensed, charging up to smack Mattheo into next week for the inappropriate joke, but your response stopped him in his tracks.Â
âI have,â you said softly. âHave you? Because it doesnât seem like it from the way you kept missing the goalposts during the game last week.âÂ
Mattheo gaped in shock before bursting into laughter. âOh, sheâs a keeper.âÂ
âYouâre lucky Y/N found that funny,â Regulus said to his friend. âOtherwise, I wouldâve twisted your intestines into a bow for her.âÂ
âTaking a page out of my brotherâs book, I see,â Mattheo taunted.Â
âIs this a bad time to ask if youâve ever had a body shot, Y/N?â Theo asked with feigned innocence. âIf not, Iâm more than willing to show you.âÂ
Regulus reeled back and smacked Theo on the head while the rest of the group cackled. Theo rubbed the sore spot and grumbled. âA simple no would have sufficed.âÂ
The more time you spent around them, the less intimidating they became. From what you gleaned, they seemed to be a tight knit group. It wasnât at all what you expected from the Slytherins.Â
âYour friends are silly,â you whispered to Regulus as the group migrated to the couch.Â
In the background, Mattheo and Theodore bickered over who drank the last of the firewhisky while Lorenzo wiped the back of his mouth and burped. He winked when he caught your eye, charging you with keeping his secret.Â
âTheyâre idiots,â Regulus scoffed. His tone was contrasted by the softness in his eyes as he watched his friends muck about. âBut theyâre family.âÂ
Throughout the night, you didnât miss the way that Regulus fussed over you. He was a constant presence by your side, attuned and attentive to every need. When you felt parched, Regulus was there to offer you a drink. When you felt cold, Regulus draped his jacket over you without you needing to ask. He checked in with you often, making sure his obnoxious friends werenât offending you and ensuring that the attention wasnât too overwhelming to handle.Â
You assured him that you were fine. In fact, you were surprised to realize that you were enjoying yourself. It was a lot easier to deal with your social anxiety when you had someone there to ground you.Â
The Slytherins were a rather social bunch. Pansy was thrilled at the prospect of having another girl join the group. Within thirty minutes, she had talked you into going to Hogsmeade with her next weekend. She wanted a break from the boys, she said. But she also made it known that she expected a full rundown of the situation between you and Regulus.Â
Draco and Blaise were very clearly eavesdropping, despite their efforts to appear nonchalant. Apparently, everyone was as invested in your pairing as Pansy was. Theodore and Mattheo didnât even try to hide the fact that they were talking Regulus up. When Mattheo declared that Regulus rescued an injured baby bird and nursed it back to health, you nearly lost it. Regulus hated birds.Â
âYouâre an idiot,â Regulus exclaimed.Â
âNo, let him talk. I want to hear all about it. What kind of bird was it, Mattheo?âÂ
âUhâŚthe kind with wings?âÂ
Lorenzo shook his head. âReally, mate? Thatâs the best you could come up with?âÂ
The group continued their bantering as you watched in fascination. Their dynamic fascinated you. They bickered like siblings, but you could tell that they would go to the end of the world for one another. You could see why Regulus thought of them as family.Â
âFeeling okay?â Regulus asked, nudging you with his hip.Â
âMhm,â you responded, bumping him back. âThanks for inviting me over.âÂ
âThis isnât what I had in mind when I did,â Regulus said. âBut Iâm still glad you came.â
âOf course, I had to see you in your natural habitat. I didnât know you were such a party animal, Reggie.âÂ
He grabbed hold of your waist and leaned down to whisper in your ear. âI preferred when the party was just you and me.âÂ
You flushed, pitching forward to hide your face behind a curtain of hair. âI did, too.âÂ
âWhen everyone leaves, I intend on picking up where we left off. You should know that Iâm not the type of man who leaves things unfinished, love.âÂ
There was no hiding the blush that blossomed on your cheeks. Crimson colored your features even as you excused yourself to the bathroom. As you washed your hands in the sink, you studied your reflection. While you would always feel the lingering social anxiety that came from being in large crowds, you thought that tonight was going fairly well. With a smile, you made your return back to the Regulus.Â
âI donât know who youâre fooling, Y/N.â Britt sneered at you as she leaned against the wall, a cigarette held haphazardly between her neon painted fingers.Â
You frowned. âWhat are you talking about, Britt?âÂ
âRegulus may have fallen for your shy and sweet little act, but heâll get sick and tired of you dragging him down sooner or later.âÂ
A lump formed in the pit of your stomach. Though it was no secret that Britt wasnât exactly a fan of yours, you hadnât expected her to say such hurtful things. Even worse, she touched a nerve with her words.Â
Britt nodded pointedly towards the crowd. âLook at him. He canât even enjoy himself without worrying about poor, helpless little Y/N.â
Regulus towered over everyone, cutting an imposing figure in the middle of the room. His eyes darted through the crowd, seemingly searching for someone. Perhaps it was the reality of seeing the worry in his features, his half-distracted responses to whatever Lorenzo was saying as he stood stoic, unable to partake in conversation because he was too busy looking for you. Worrying about you. However horrid Britt was, you realized that there was merit to her words.Â
The last thing you wanted was to hold Regulus back. You didnât want him worrying about babysitting you instead of having fun with his friends, which is exactly what he was doing now. The thought made you sad. Sure, Regulus was fine with catering to your needs now, but he was bound to tire of it sooner or later. You didnât want to find out how long it would take.Â
You didnât want to be a burden to anyone. Most of all, Regulus.Â
Without a word, you passed by Britt and weaved your way through the room. You stuck to the alcoves, passing beneath its shadowy refuge until the door came to view. Only a few steps stood between you and your escape when a low, stern voice stopped you in your tracks.Â
âY/N,â said Tom Riddle. âLeaving early, are we?âÂ
âOh, hi there Tom,â you mumbled, casting your gaze towards the floor. You were afraid that youâd cry if you stayed in the dungeons a second longer. âMâjust not feeling very well.âÂ
You could feel his observant gaze sweeping over you. âI imagined you wouldnât after encountering that hag outside of the bathroom.âÂ
âYou saw that?â You asked in a small, defeated voice.Â
Finally, you deigned to look up and found Tom staring at you. As always, the eldest Riddle was cold and stoic, but there was something in his gaze that conveyed concern.Â
âYes, and I heard it too.âÂ
âPlease, can youâcan you just not tell Reggie?âÂ
Tomâs expression was imperceptible besides his curt nod. âIf thatâs what you prefer. Iâll let him know you left early because you werenât feeling well.âÂ
âThank you, Tom.âÂ
You bid him a good night before reaching for the door. Behind you, Tom cleared his throat.Â
âFor the record, that hag doesnât know what sheâs talking about. Youâre not dragging Regulus down. If anything, youâve made the twat more tolerable over these past few weeks.âÂ
Before you could respond, Tom was gone. You barely caught a glimpse of his back as he climbed the stairs that led to the dormitories. The parting surprised you, but you figured that Tom probably just felt bad for witnessing the conversation between you and Britt.Â
Casting a last glance towards the common room, you spotted Regulus once again.Â
Softly, you whispered, âBye, Reggie.âÂ
Once you were back in your dorm, you showered and decided to turn in for the night. It was just a few minutes shy of midnight as you tossed and turned in bed. Your roommate was most likely still at the party, leaving you to ponder your thoughts alone. There was an air of restlessness in the room as you stared up at the ceiling and considered your predicament.Â
No matter which way you looked at it, there was only one solution. You had to end your friendship with Regulus.Â
The thought filled you with overwhelming sadness. Letting go of Regulus made you feel so isolated and alone, but you knew it was the right thing to do. As though sensing your need for comfort, Shadow slinked through your door and hopped right into your lap. The black cat stared up at you with knowing eyes and meowed.Â
âAt least I can count on you to always keep me company,â you murmured softly as you scratched under Shadowâs chin. âItâs been a rough night.âÂ
Shadow bumped his head against your hip, seemingly telling you to stop feeling sorry for yourself.Â
âBritt is right, Shadow,â you confessed. âIâm just not the type of girl Regulus should be with.âÂ
The cat bumped you again, stomping his feet on the bed in frustration. Shadow gave you a rather argumentative meow.Â
âOh, donât give me that. We both know itâs true. Reggie is Reggie and IâmâŚwell, Iâm me.âÂ
Shadow hissed in response, demanding your attention. You sighed as you pulled the cat into your lap. âItâs a shame,â you whispered against his dark fur. âI really like him.âÂ
To your surprise, Shadow purred softly and cuddled against your side. Though the feral little cat had taken a liking to you and your dorm, Shadow was always usually gone in the morning. Tonight though, the cat curled up next to you as though it knew that this was what you needed.Â
âGood night, Shadow.âÂ
Regulus knew it was reckless.Â
But after Tom informed him of your sudden illness, suspicion rose in him like a tide. Even if you werenât feeling well, it wasnât like you to leave so abruptly, which meant that something was definitely wrong. All of his suspicions were confirmed when he got to your dorm.
It broke his heart to hear you say that you werenât right for him. How could such a thought even cross your mind? There had never been anyone more perfect to him than you. Didnât you know that you were the first person Regulus looked for in a room full of people? Couldnât you tell how head over heels he was for you? His sweet, sassy, shy, sunshine of a Hufflepuff. There was no one better.Â
Certainly not Britt. Regulus was well aware of the crush she had on him. At first, he simply ignored it. He had absolutely no interest in someone as foul and loathsome as that girl, but now that she had come after you, Regulus had half a mind to sink his teeth and claws into her ankles until he drew blood.Â
At the moment, his plot for revenge was set aside as he focused on comforting you. Up until this point, Regulus had always been careful not to fall asleep in your dorm because he never knew when he was going to switch back, but tonight, he was willing to risk it. He didnât know if this would be the last time you ever spoke to him given what you confessed earlier.Â
Perhaps it was selfish of him, but he didnât want the night to end. Regulus wasn't ready to face the prospect of you ending things, so he snuggled into your side and fell asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.Â
It was a choice that would certainly have its consequences in the morning.
The first thing that woke him up was not the sunlight streaming through your windows or the chirping of the birds, but instead your surprised yelp. Regulus blinked sleepily, rubbing his paw against his snout, but instead bumped his hand into his nose.Â
This was not good.Â
This was definitely not good.Â
You were on the other side of the bed, blankets pulled up over your chin as you stared at him in disbelief.Â
âReggie? Whatâwhat are you doing here?âÂ
Regulus was an idiot. A stupid, careless idiot.Â
But none of that mattered now.Â
âDonât end our friendship.âÂ
You reeled back in surprise. âIâwhatâwhatâs even happeningââ
âDonât end our friendship,â Regulus said once more. âFuck, itâs not even a friendship. You and I both know itâs so much more than that.âÂ
âI donât understand.âÂ
âIâm not going to get bored of you. Never in a million years would I ever get bored of you. In the months that Iâve gotten to know you, not once have I ever stopped feeling drawn in. I want to know everything about you, Y/N. Even though you tell me everything without realizing it, I still want to know more. I want to listen to you talk about your books and hold your hand when youâre overwhelmed and follow you all around the castle like Iâve been doing all along.âÂ
You were speechless as Regulus continued. âTom told me that you werenât feeling well last night. I knew it was a lie, so I had to come and see for myself. I had to make sure you were okay, even if you didnât know it was me.â He sighed, closing his eyes. âBut then you said you wanted to end our friendship and I justâI was selfish. I shouldâve gone back to my dorm, but I didnât know if last night was the last time youâd ever speak to me and I just couldnât bring myself to leave.âÂ
Realization dawned over you. Pieces of the puzzle started clicking into place. âYouâreâyouâyouâve been Shadow this whole time?âÂ
Regulus nodded guiltily. âI understand if youâre angry with me, but please know that I didnât mean for any of this to happen. I found your dorm by accident that first night and I donât know. I just kept coming back. You just kept drawing me back.âÂ
He bowed his head and ran a hand through his curls. âI realize you might hate me after this, but you have been the best part of my day since I accidentally stumbled into your dorm and I thinkâno, I know that Iâve fallen for you.âÂ
You blinked in disbelief, still processing his confession. âSo youâve beenâŚyou this whole time? You knew everything Iâve ever said to Shadow. You listened to me vent and rant, thinking I was just talking to a cat.â You paused as something niggled at your brain. âWhen we first ran into each other at the bookstore, did you already know I was going to be there?âÂ
Regulus didn't deny it. âI did. I also already read all of the books on your shelves in advance on the off chance that you might mention it in class. I didn't really need help in charms, that was just an excuse to spend more time with you and I...I bought the same candles and blankets you like so you'd be comfortable in the common room. I learned all of that by listening to you, by spying on you, and I'm sorry. Iâm so fucking sorry â"Â
His apology was cut short as you surged forward to kiss him. Regulus was stunned for a moment as your lips met, but it didnât take long for him to reciprocate. One arm slid around your waist to pull you closer while the other cradled your cheek. His kisses were hungry, like he was a man awaiting the gallows and you were his final meal. It was full of passion, the longing and yearning evident as he gorged himself on the taste of you.Â
Coming up for air, Regulus finally opened his pretty emerald eyes and looked at you. His gaze pierced through your skin, raw and vulnerable. âYouâre not mad at me?âÂ
âAre you kidding? Thatâs the sweetest thing anyoneâs ever done for me.â Regulus sighed in relief, pressing his forehead against yours. âPlus, how can I be mad when you make such a cute little kitty?âÂ
Regulus laughed, the sweet, melodious sound filling the room. You brushed his curls back and grinned. âFor the record, Iâve fallen for you too.âÂ
âThatâs a relief. My friends have been pestering me on finally making a move for months. Pansy cornered me last night and lectured me on asking you to be my girlfriend before you realize that youâre too good for me.âÂ
âI think I like Pansy.âÂ
âDonât tell her that,â Regulus groaned. âSheâll definitely try to steal you away from me.âÂ
âI donât think youâll have any trouble with that.âÂ
âGood, I donât want Parkinson getting any ideas about running off with my girlfriend.âÂ
You raised a brow. âOh, Iâm your girlfriend now?âÂ
âGirlfriend. Love of my life. Apple of my eye. Take your pick, mon cĹur.âÂ
âIâll take all of the above, boyfriend.âÂ
Later that morning, after much cuddling and kissing, you and Regulus finally decided to head to the Great Hall for breakfast. You smiled as he held your hand, bumping your hip as the two of you walked through the corridors. It was strange how at ease you felt. You were vaguely aware of the eyes that trailed your every move, but they quickly blended into the background when Regulus pulled you close and kissed your cheek.Â
Luna and Ginny perked up at the sight of you, surprise marring their faces when they spotted Regulus at your side. Their eyebrows raised to the skies, pointedly staring at your linked fingers.Â
Later, you mouthed. You had a hell of a lot of explaining to do, but your friends merely smiled and nodded.Â
âFinally,â Pansy announced exasperatedly. She patted the seat next to her as you shyly slipped in. âI was beginning to think that weâd have to scheme to get the two of you together.âÂ
âNo need,â you said with a smile. âI think we took care of that on our own.âÂ
Regulus smiled and nuzzled against your shoulder. The boys flashed him shit-eating grins, but he didnât seem to notice. âStop scaring my girlfriend away, Pans.âÂ
âOh, is it girlfriend now? Itâs about time. Iâve only listened to you pine and yearn for months.âÂ
âExcuse her,â Blaise said. âSheâs just happy to have another girl in the group.âÂ
âDamn right I am. Iâm tired of spending so much time with you heathens.â Pansy patted your shoulder. âI hope youâre in the market for new friends, because youâre not getting rid of me now. My first act of friendship will be to determine whether or not to hex that little trollop for glaring at you. Do you know that girl, Y/N?âÂ
You turned and found Britt frowning at you with her arms crossed. âItâs alright, Pansy. Sheâs not worth it.âÂ
At the same moment, Tom sauntered through the aisles. Once he reached Britt, he cut her a glare that would paralyze a basilisk. She cowered back and made a hasty retreat.Â
Tom merely continued walking before taking a seat next to Mattheo. âSo, that hag, â he says in a no-nonsense tone. âWould you like me to take care of her?âÂ
You glanced at the group in concern. âWhat exactly does taking care of her mean?âÂ
Mattheoâs curly head popped up from his plate. âOh, he means heâll feed her to his snake.âÂ
You laughed at the jest, but Tom remained stone-faced. He was obviously just kidding. Right?
âHeâs dead serious,â Theo added. âIâve seen him do it before.âÂ
With a gulp, you turned back to Tom. âThat wonât be necessary, Tom. Please donât feed Britt to your snake.âÂ
Tom shrugged as though you were discussing the weather. âSuit yourself.âÂ
When everyone returned to their morning banter, you turned to Regulus. âWhat have I gotten myself into?âÂ
Regulus smiled and pecked your lips. âYou know, I considered clawing her ankles off, but I think Tomâs way will be much quicker.âÂ
âRegulus Black.â You scolded, though it wasnât entirely convincing given the grin you were biting back.Â
âItâs Reggie to you, love.â You stared at him pointedly, which only made him sigh dramatically. âFine, Tomâs snake will not have a new snack, but only because I have a saint for a girlfriend.âÂ
âAnd I have a devious little sinner for a boyfriend.âÂ
Regulus smirked. âIâll make sure to worship at your altar for penance.âÂ
You rolled your eyes, but couldnât help but blush as Regulus laid his head down on your shoulder once more. You ran your fingers through his curls, smiling to yourself when he let out a satisfied hum that sounded awfully close to a purr.Â
#he's so cute my little black cat baby boy#regulus black#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#regulus black fic
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pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
words:Â 7.2k
summary:Â Frankie Morales is your best friend â until a drunken hookup tears you apart.
warnings:Â 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!
a/n:Â thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)
Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese youâve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese â just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Wonât let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out.Â
Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. Heâll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do.Â
Sit, heâll shout from the other room. Iâll be right there. Feel free to put something on â but please, not 13 Going on 30. Youâll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: youâre the best, but itâs not my fault Matty is the dream man.
Heâll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend â at least he was.
Because the two of you havenât spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that youâre both pretending didnât happen.
Youâd laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, heâd smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiagoâs pitiful loss in that third game of pool. âWhen he pocketed the eight-ballâŚâ he trailed off into another fit of laughter.Â
âAnd thenââ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. ââthe cue hitting his drink!â Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankieâs thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. âHeâs never going to live that down!â
After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. Youâd met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like youâd known the guys your entire life.
Especially Frankie.
Your friendship was a special one â punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. Heâd become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize thatâÂ
âYou look really hot tonight, by the way.â
He shouldnât have said that. He shouldnât have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.
It was you who kissed him first.
He deepened it though â that was all him â large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. Heâd groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.
And then, your voice ragged and breathless, youâd asked, âdo you want to come in for a bit?â
It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankieâs thumbprint bruised into your hip, youâd found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadnât called, hadnât texted. Still hasnât.
The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you donât mind, really. You donât want to speak to him. Heâd probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.
You wish you could forget it.
The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice â god, his voice â it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew youâd take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.
Your friends donât know. They canât; they wouldnât let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him heâs so right.Â
Youâre pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.
Because youâre not perfect for each other â far from it, actually. Fuck, you canât even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship?Â
Not that you want that. Frankie isâŚwell, Frankie. Sure, heâd felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you â but he isnât the type to settle down. In fact, you donât think youâve ever heard Frankie talk about dating.Â
Besides, heâs clearly not interested in being anyoneâs anything right now. Not even your friend.Â
It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, youâd spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he wonât even look your way for more than a few seconds.Â
Wonât make you a fucking grilled cheese.
Itâs a Friday night, which means youâre meeting your friends at Sidâs. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.
Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesnât acknowledge you when you stroll up to them â not until his friendâs hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then heâs sliding back onto his barstool.Â
Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesnât seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated catâs.
Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.
âAlright Fish, youâre up,â he says. âMe and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.â
You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. âYou sure you want to make that bet, Pope?â
Santi grins; nods confidently. âHell yeah, I do.â The rest of you donât bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.
When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. Youâre already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. Thereâs a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.
You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. Itâs deep â sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom â and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash.Â
When you snap your head up to look at him, you find heâs speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. Youâre staring, you hear her tease. Canât help it, comes his reply.
Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down.Â
Youâve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. Itâs strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. Iâm a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? Youâd do that for me?
You feel bad for her. She doesnât know yet that all heâll do is disappoint her.
He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; theyâre all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.
Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You donât bother to check if Frankie is looking.Â
Itâs cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. Youâd planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you â a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers â and heâs asking you for a light.
Heâs in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. Heâs tall, though not as tall as Frankie. His shoulders arenât nearly as broad and his chest isnât quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame â dissimilar to the way Frankieâs button-down clings to him.Â
Then again â why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need.Â
Youâll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like itâll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.
âI donât smoke,â you admit apologetically.Â
âAh â thatâs alright.âÂ
He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You donât bother to ask. You donât care, really. It doesnât matter. All that matters isâ
âYou here all by yourself?â
âYeah,â he laughs at your lack of subtlety. âAre you?â
âNo,â you say. âMy friends are inside.â Lowering your voice, you add, âbut I was thinking about leaving soon.â
âWhyâs that? Early morning tomorrow?â
You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your strangerâs eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.
âJust over it,â you sigh exasperatedly. âIâd much rather be homeâŚin bedâŚout of these clothes.â
You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you canât bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.
Your strangerâs gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.
âYou uh â want some company â once I find a light?â
Too fucking easy.
âSure,â you giggle.
He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him?Â
But then you think of Frankie inside â talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you donât exist â and that just about makes up your mind for you.
Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.
He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly.Â
He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too.Â
Canât wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Letâs go.
You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that youâll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your strangerâs arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.
You only get a few feet, though, before youâre intercepted.
Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you canât quite comprehend. âHey,â he says, âcan I talk to you real quick?â
Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. âIâll wait outside,â he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.
The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, youâve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. Itâs infuriating, itâsâ
âAre you sure you want to leave with him?â
âExcuse me?â you scoff.Â
Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. âYou donât know this guy, do you? What if heâs a murderer or something? Or like â a pervert?âÂ
Heâs grasping at straws, you know it. Itâs why you laugh; roll your eyes.Â
âWhat are you, my keeper?â
âNo, itâs just â Iâm just concerned for your safety, okay?â
Youâre briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?
âIâm fine,â you bite back. âWhy donât you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?â
Heâs wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but heâs silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.
Finding your stranger leaning against the barâs brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. âReady to go?â he asks.Â
Youâre not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your strangerâs bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. âYeah,â you purr. âIâm ready.â
Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that youâre not alone.Â
Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your strangerâs clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.
Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.
The sex wasnât great â not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. Heâd started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.
Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink.Â
He mustâve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. âHey,â he mutters. âHowâd you sleep?â
âPretty good,â you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline.Â
âYou always up this early?â
You nod. Itâs a lie, but he doesnât need to know that youâd nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesnât need to know that for a split second, youâd almost hoped it was Frankie.
He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. âSorry, canât. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.â
âI could stick around and help,â he offers.Â
Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.
âThatâs so nice of you; Iâm just more efficient by myself,â you lie again.Â
If Frankie were here, heâd grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where theyâre kept: second shelf, on the left. Heâd wipe down the counters and the coffee table while youâd work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And heâd probably put on his dad-rock playlist â against your wishes â though youâd inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when heâd sing along and mess up the words.
It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. Heâs still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. Thereâs no evidence that heâll be leaving any time soon.
The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that youâre sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.
A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Malâs for their monthly game night. Youâd tried to get out of it, told Mal you havenât been feeling great â which isn't a total lie â but sheâd begged you until you broke.Â
Will is coming, and itâll be the first time weâve all gotten together in over a year, sheâd whined through the receiver.Â
And then-
I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you canât let that stop us from seeing each other.
How do you know that, youâd asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.
He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed reallyâŚagitated. You donât have to tell me what happened, just please donât bail.
So youâre here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion.Â
You enter the house with baited breath.
Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if heâs trying to pretend he hasnât seen you at all.Â
âHi,â you try.
He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. âHey,â he says finally, to the wall behind your head.
âHow have you been?â the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs.Â
âFine. Iâm fine.âÂ
âRight,â you mutter. More silence. âMe too, in case you were wondering.â
âGood,â he says, voice cold. âThatâs good.â
Youâre not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as heâs being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.
You long to feel something other than the prominent ache thatâs permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that heâs the only one whoâd be able to alleviate it.
Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming.Â
âMalâs in the kitchen,â he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, âwe got those wine coolers you like; theyâre in the fridge.â
With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.
You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans.Â
âHey,â you announce.Â
She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, itâs as if sheâs waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm.Â
You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other.Â
âYouâre here,â she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement.Â
âYeah. I said I would be.â
âI know, I know. Itâs just â I wasnât sure. The whole Frankie thingâŚâÂ
âItâs nothing; I promise,â you lie. âWater under the bridge. Weâre fine.â
She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. âGood,â she says. âI donât want you two ruining game night.â
Itâs half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, sheâd forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.
Games bring people together, sheâd said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.
Youâd believed her at the time. Now, youâre not so sure that itâs foolproof.
The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.
It starts during the second round of Charades.Â
The first round had gone fine â good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, youâd avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santiâs horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.
Itâd felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. Heâd asked you how youâve been as Santi studied his next word, and youâd remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.
And you hadnât missed Frankieâs discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadnât said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.
Santiâs turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of.Â
He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that heâs ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost donât notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that heâs fucking mouthing the phrase.
You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod.Â
âThatâs right. Itâs the Empire State Building.â
âThatâs fucking cheating!â you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, âare you fucking serious, Frankie?â
You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen youâve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively.Â
âWhat, nobody else thinks thatâs unfair?â
âPlease,â Frankie sneers.Â
âNo, sheâs right,â Santi tries â ever the peacemaker. âWeâll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.â
âFuck that,â you hiss. âI want their point taken away.â
Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. âBullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.â
Youâre fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.
âThere shouldnât need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. Itâs common fucking sense â which clearly, you have none of.â
Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.
âWhy did you come tonight?â you continue, voice more level now; direct.Â
You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it.Â
âSeriously, why?â
Heâs quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again. Â
âWhat are you talking about?â he spits, finally.Â
You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. âI mean, clearly you donât want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence â unless itâs to cockblock me â so why are you here?â
His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket â but Benny stops him before he can take a step.
âJust â cut it out, okay? Both of you.â
âHeâs the one-â
âI donât care,â Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.
Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santiâs face, Malâs doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that youâve effectively ruined their night.Â
âIâm sorry,â you mumble.Â
Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others arenât impressed.Â
âI donât know whatâs been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,â Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. âCan you please just â go in the other room and talk through it?â
Though you havenât much cared for Frankieâs opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes â something like fear, anxiety. Why, you arenât sure.
You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh.Â
âFine,â you both say at once.
âThank goodness,â Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway.Â
Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?
The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. Youâve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That mustâve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you â because what was it all worth, if itâs ended up like this?
Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker.Â
âWhat the fuck was that?â you hiss.Â
He scoffs. âMe? Youâre the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!â
âIt wasnât nothing. You were cheating.â
âPlease.â He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. âThatâs not what this is about and you know it.â
âOh,â you laugh, âso you are aware that youâve been an asshole?â
He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.
âI wasnât trying to be-â
You throw a hand up; silence him. âWell you have been,â you groan. âYouâve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just⌠stopped returning my texts. You wonât even look at me when weâre in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?â
The room goes still. You watch as Frankieâs chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. Theyâre dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.
âNo.â
You quirk a brow at him, confused.
âNo?â
âNo,â he repeats, averting his gaze. âAnd thatâs the problem â I didnât regret it at all.â His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, âIâve wanted it for a long timeâ
You can barely comprehend what heâs saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past.Â
He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.
âDo you know how difficult itâs been to look at you without getting fucking hard?â he whispers. âHow many times Iâve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?â
Your mouth falls open, stunned. âThat girl at the bar-â
He shakes his head. âI thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.â
âAnd did it?â
âI didnât â I didnât go home with her,â he admits, a little bashfully. âI couldnât do it.âÂ
His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly youâd think you imagined it if you couldnât see.
âWhy not?â you squeak.
He nods, as if heâs finally accepting something heâs known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.
âBecause she wasnât you.â
It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis.Â
Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankieâs neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. Heâs quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat.Â
For a long moment, thatâs all it is. Itâs clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. Itâs the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies.Â
And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and youâre sure you donât look much different.
âFrankie,â you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesnât retreat; just hums against you.Â
âNeed you,â you say breathlessly. âNeed you to touch me.â
His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton.Â
Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. âBeen wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.â
You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. Heâs still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand.Â
There you go baby, thatâs it; I got you.Â
You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how youâve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.
You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. âFrankie,â you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. âIâm going to-â
The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. âCome on baby,â he growls in your ear, âcome on.â
Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankieâs grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest.Â
Youâre panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize youâve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.
âFrankie?â
âYeah, baby?âÂ
âPlease fuck me.â
He should probably say no. After all, youâre in your friendsâ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, heâs already made you come.
You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want.Â
In the end, he canât help himself.
âCan you be quiet, querida?âÂ
You nod, though youâre sure that even if you said no, he wouldnât care. Heâd do just as heâs doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him.Â
âFucking beautiful,â he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like youâre on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.
He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls.Â
You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss â slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each otherâs longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you â reminding you, and you feel like youâre steadily going insane.
He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.
âCan I take this off?â he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.
Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant.Â
âOh fuck,â you moan into your palm.
âFeel good?â he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth â the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.
âGod, you sound so pretty,â he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside.Â
âFuck,â he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. âYouâre soaked, bebita. That all for me?â
âMhm,â you whine. âAll for you Frankie; fuck-â
Heâs shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. âHave to taste you,â he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.
âOh, oh shit,â you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. âPlease baby, please.â
âI know; I got you,â he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. Heâs so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium.Â
Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you donât even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below.Â
He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.
Itâs a stretch â you recall it being so last time too â though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. Heâs gentle. Tells you how good youâre doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, thatâs my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again.Â
He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. âYou like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?â
âYes, Frankie â fuck. Want it.â
You donât specify whether you mean him or his cock. Youâre not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know heâll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.
 âSo fucking beautiful, you know that?â
Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. âGod,â you breathe.
âIâm serious,â he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. âWas so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.â
âJesus, Frankie.â
He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isnât gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.
He groans. âTell me how it feels, baby.â
âItâs so fucking good,â you cry. âFeels like fucking heaven, Frankie.â
âNah, thatâs you.â He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. âPerfect fucking pussy.âÂ
It ends all too quickly â with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliffâs edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place youâre still connected.
As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Bennyâs boisterous chuckle and Malâs much softer one. Clearly distracted, theyâre likely blissfully unaware of whatâs just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.
âWhatâs so funny?â he asks, prying your hands away.Â
âWeâre gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.â
He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky.Â
âWorth it,â he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. âGot my girl back.â
You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they donât notice the way youâre wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat thatâs coated your skin.Â
âYou sort everything out?â Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.
âYeah,â he mutters, refusing to make eye contact.Â
âItâs about time,â Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankieâs head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.
âWhat do you mean?â
He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.
âJust saying itâs about time,â he shrugs. âThatâs all.âÂ
Shit; apparently you hadnât been as quiet as you thought.
The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.
An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right.Â
He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.
You cock an eyebrow at him. âWhat?â
âNothing,â he says. âJust glad I stopped being an idiot.â
âI donât know about that,â you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.
âCome over?â he asks, his hand draped over your waist.Â
You think on it for only a second. Nod. âYeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.â
âThat can be arranged.âÂ
end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)
#Frankie Morales#Frankie Morales x reader#Frankie Morales x f!reader#Frankie Morales x female reader#Frankie Morales fic#Frankie Morales smut#Frankie Morales fanfiction#Triple Frontier#Triple Frontier fic#Triple Frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut
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â§.* nanami headcanons <3
He hums/sings while showering and feels embarrassed when confronted about it.
When someone he enjoys talking to speaks to him, he usually appears serious, but his expression is always unreadable. The expression conveys pure fondness for the person!! He enjoys hearing them ramble about their day, their lives, etc. He gives them a warm look.
Definitely a listener more than a rambler. He listens to people all the time, and remembers the small details about them. He tends to bring them up sometimes, which surprises the other person. But, he is extremely attentive to detail and loves getting to know people.
You know how in Korean dramas, the male lead is always a jack of all trades or something? Nanami is exactly that guy. Need assistance with your plumbing? He is there. Do you need to fix a lightbulb? He is there. Need help building a house? He is there.
He plays an instrument. He would play either the piano, violin, or flute.
He definitely enjoys watching movies in his spare time. When he is not doing anything, he enjoys watching movies. If he existed in the modern world, he would for sure have a Letterboxd account.
In a Modern AU, Nanami would undoubtedly be an English/History major. I do not care what anyone says. Maybe philosophy or business. But he would be one of those fine humanities majors you notice and immediately fall for.
Books are his specialty. He probably has several places where he goes to relax and read a book he recently purchased.
Speaking of books, if he gets a partner, he will read to them. He would cuddle them in bed, holding them in his arms while he read silently to them, pressing his lips against their ear, the soft, deep tone of his voice sounding like a musical masterpiece in their ear.
Pottery!! He enjoys pottery so much. He probably went to a pottery event/class when he was bored (he failed, the bowl looked like a deformed apple) but he really enjoyed the process. He definitely began to watch more videos on pottery and probably got himself a pottery wheel.
He is definitely an animal lover. he doesn't look like it, but he loves, LOVES, LOVES animals. If he sees a dog, his heart flutters but he doesn't touch it just in case. But, he's an animal attractor of course. The dogs are all over him at the dog park, and he smiles a little while petting them.
Speaking of animals, he probably has a cat. The cat is named after a food for sure. It is most definitely a type of bread or sandwich or a nut. For example, Pistachio or Baguette.
Super gentle with children. He genuinely enjoys being around them. Ask him about having children He will Be On Board.
HE WOULD NOT BE MEAN. The amount of people I have seen mischaracterize him by making him mean just because he's serious. No. He is just introverted and serious and needs to be comfortable around a person.
During relationships, he genuinely enjoys checking in on the person he is dating. He is always there for them, comforting, cherishing, and listening. He tries to get off work as soon as possible so that he can spend time with his significant other.
If he is shown too much affection, he does not snap or become angry with the person. He just blushes. He just lets out a soft "hm" and pretends to be serious, but his heart is racing, and his cheeks, ears, and neck indicate otherwise. He also gives them a slightly surprised look that quickly turns to his stoic look.
He definitely bought baby shoes at a store just because he thought they were so cute. Mans just wants a baby.
He would be both a girl and a boy dad. I do not care what anyone says; he loves both. If he has a son, he will do everything in his power to raise him as a gentleman while also showing him a lot of love and affection. If he has a daughter, he will be so gentle with her while also raising her to be a sophisticated, strong young woman.
Genuinely would be the grandpa of the friend group. Come on. Just look at him.
As a teenager, he probably would do the emo hair flip thing because his fringe kept getting onto his eye. Gojo probably laughed his ass off.
Secretly really touch-starved. People think he is not affectionate, but he is, just not in public. He would most likely grab his significant other while they were doing something and attack them with kisses. He probably likes being a little spoon sometimes even though he looks like an old man. He is clingy, okay? But not overly clingy. Sometimes he needs his own space.
Loves kissing their partner's beauty moles. The ones under their nose, the ones on their ear, the ones on scattered around their face, the ones in other areas... Wherever they are located, he will kiss them.
Sometimes he needs to be reassured. He needs to know if he is doing okay, if he is treating a person well. It looks like he does not need it, but he genuinely sometimes gets insecure about how others perceive him or how well he treats them. He worries about hurting someone's feelings.
Loves to try and hype up his partner with extreme amount of compliments. He is truly the number one simp and hype man.
I am a strong advocate for the fact that Nanami loves people of color. Like he will date a person of color. I don't CARE. I am Afro-Latina let me have my headcanon in peace : (
Once again. He is NOT mean. He will not yell. If he is angry, he is calm. He does not yell and if he does it is extremely rare. But he would never in his life yell at his partner or children if he has any. The only way he shows disappointment is by staying calm.
Speaking of being angry, he is not the type to show silent treatment. He would much rather talk rather than give a cold shoulder. He is a grown man. He knows how to communicate, people.
Old-fashioned nicknames. That is all. My love. Darling. Sweetheart.
He is probably fluent in several languages. I understand he is overly perfect, but he is perfect in my eyes. He probably takes the time to learn languages so that people feel included. Plus, he genuinely enjoys learning about different cultures.
Owned a bakery or worked as a chef at some point in his life. Maybe even a barista.
Helps old ladies cross the street, assists people with heavy bags, is courteous to his neighbors, and is the grandson of every old neighbor ever.
Probably is the type of guy to sit down on the couch and not try at Just Dance, and ends up winning.
Despite being serious, he would genuinely be bad at the game Among Us. This is so random but hear me out.
Favorite ice cream flavor is probably coffee or pistachio. Maybe even basic vanilla. He is not a big fan anyway.
Jazz music, classical music, old music is his speciality. In high school during his emo hair era he more so listened to 90s rock/punk rock.
His most used app(s) on his Samsung Galaxy S24 Ultra is WhatsApp and Candy Crush.
Definitely has a whole closet of clothing and browses through them every night to see what suit he wants to wear for the next day.
When he shops or gets food, he goes to local family owned shops. He does not go to Starbucks for his coffee. He goes to the local family owned coffee shop.
Dry texter but if he gets a partner who is not a dry texter, he genuinely begins to pick up their habits. If they type with emojis he begins using emojis. I apologize but he'd unironically use the laughing crying emoji. "Haha! đ". Okay but genuinely, he would actually keyboard slam at some point. He sends them a photo, they go like "jshekehdkehdjdlsjdl" and one time they did the same thing and he was like:
"....Kshskshdjxbsnab." You know?
He is low key sassy. He was affected by sassy man apocalypse. He hides it in that serious exterior of his but he gives the biggest side eyes sometimes, crosses his legs too.
Snores like a dad. Bro was probably recorded by Haibara while he was in the dorms and bro was snoring like a regular ol dad. Drooling too. What a silly guy.
Anyway...
Overall, the best man ever. He is the man ever and that is why he is not real. Unfortunately.
forever angel <33
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami headcanons#nanami kento#kento nanami#nanami kento headcanons#kento nanami headcanons#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#jjk#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#my hcs#nanami hcs#i love him#the love of my life#i need him so bad#i wish he was real#why isn't he real#whyyyy#i'm crying#i love you nanami#my current hyperfixation#he will be the death of me#i am obsessed with him
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Iâm sick as ALL hell, and it made me imagine big strong military bfâs taking care of me </3 smh why canât men be real
same, i wish men existed, *sigh* ૮ę°ŕžŕ˝˛ â¸â¸ âşĚĽĚĽĚĽ ÂˇĚ âšĚĽĚĽ ęąŕžŕ˝˛á
hope u feel better!! âá˘ÂˇÍŕźÂˇÍá˘ââş âšË.â
đŠâĄđŞ Headcanon: Taking Care Of You While You're Sick
âąâ° ik this painting is the death of Barbara RadziwiĹĹ but ajsdks-
ŕŞŕŹ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, Hesh + Logan Walker, KĂśnig, Horangi, Nikto
Price
Would try to give you the space you need when you ask for it
But inevitably, he can't go all day or night without you
Comes to you at night, scooping you up in his arms to take you to bed when you had fallen asleep on the couch, a mess of tissues and tea cups on the coffee table
Caresses your face as you lay in bed, pressing tender kisses on your nape since you don't want him touching your face
Tries to sweet talk to cheer you up because you're upset that you had to cancel/postpone plans
Ghost
He avoids making loud noises as to not make your headache worse
During the days you're sick a strong thunderstorm brings heavy rains, the soft tapping of raindrops hitting earth and leaves rustling makes you slip into the most peaceful slumber you've gotten in days
Lets you sleep in his clothes because he knows you feel comforted by his smell since you won't let him get too close
When it's past midnight and you can't sleep so you go on long, random rambles and he's just lying there listening but after a while he's like "please go to sleep, you need to rest"
Soap
Orders pastries from your favorite bakery and has them delivered so you can enjoy biting into freshly baked warm bread
Gets sad when you tell him you can't sleep in the same bed because you feel icky
"But you're going to be cold without me"
Whenever you get out of bed to grab something he follows right after you and drags you back
Due to feeling uncomfortable you frequently change places to rest and he follows you to every spot around the house
Falls asleep on top of you on the couch, it's kinda comforting
Gaz
Uses his softest voice, whispering when he asks if you need anything else
Rushing to bring you blankets, tea, books, the tv control and anything you ask for and place it on your hands
When he helps you walk to the bathroom to wash he takes the opportunity to open the window and let the summer breeze in for a change of fresh air
Frequently washes the blankets so you're always comfortable resting on silkin bedsheets
Cupping your face between his hands, radiating his warmth into your skin and telling you he'll take care of you and make sure you feel better ૮ ßšáŻ
ßš á
Alejandro
Would make you drink tea whilst it's hot, you burned your tongue
Vicks Vaporub (no i will not elaborate)
Rubs mezcal over your body
Other than preparing you teas and making sure you're bundled up even if you feel hot from a fever, he doesn't know what else to do
He rests his head on your chest even when you tell him to sleep in a different room because you don't want to make him sick too
Listens to your heartbeat at night and doesn't fall asleep until he makes sure you're sleeping soundly
Phillip Graves
He will feed you when you confess you haven't eaten all day because you've just felt too ill to cook
Gently wiping your mouth
Every morning he quietly gets out of bed, letting you sleep in to prepare a breakfast he knows will make you feel better
Won't eat unless you've finished your meal first
You crave something that's not in the fridge, he quickly grabs his wallet and is on his way out to buy it for you <3
Keegan
Takes care of the plants and flowers you're always so dedicated to maintaining
Kissing your shoulder while you cuddle
You keep moving around in bed and he can't fall asleep either because you're restless
"Are- are you okay?" "Knock me out with a shovel"
You somehow manage to convince him to let you go outside on a walk saying the fresh air will help you some
He pulls you close to him when even the slightest breeze hits you, enveloping you in his arms
Hesh + Logan Walker
David will rush to the store to stock up on medicine, tea, and candy
He says sugar always helps keep you restore energy while you're sick
He stays up late with you on a movie marathon when you can't fall asleep
Logan tries to stay up with you too but he fails as his eyelids droop and falls asleep cuddled next to you
Logan washes your hair and takes such gentle care of it you almost fall asleep in the tub
He reads to you in bed knowing your eyes hurt and lets you rest your head on his shoulder
KĂśnig
Is always fixing your spot in bed, adjusting pillows to your position and making sure you're covered with a blanket at all times
Carries you to rooms around the house
Lots of forehead kisses <33
Avoids going out, his task is to solely take care of you, unless you ask him to get you something, he'll be worrying and thinking about you while he's wishing the line at checkout would go a little faster
Buys things you didn't ask for but thinks you'll need, just in case
Horangi
Would prepare lots of teas for every one of your meals and makes sure you drink it all
Prepares lots of healthy stews to ensure you recover quickly, they're scalding hot but it feels good on your sore throat
Tells you to take it easy and stay in bed because he'll get everything for you
You don't listen and when you try to make something for yourself you accidentally drop a glass in the kitchen, it shatters on the floor and in an instant he's beside you
Checks you for any injuries, quietly taking your hands in his, running his fingers over your skin and sighing in relief when there are no injuries
Nikto
Always checking up on you, you'll be reading or watching tv and it nearly gives you a heart attack when from the corner of your eye you notice a tall, looming figure silently observing you
You're worried about falling behind on chores and other work that when you try to sneak off to do them you find it's all taken care of
With a hand on your back he guides you back to bed telling you that you shouldn't be worrying about chores anyways
Bear hugs you in bed so you can't get up and do things you shouldn't be doing because you're supposed to be resting
"I can't move" "You shouldn't, stay."
#john price#captain price#price x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#alejandro vargas#alejandro x reader#phillip graves x reader#phillip graves cod#keegan p russ#keegan russ x reader#keegan x reader#david hesh walker#hesh x reader#logan walker x reader#logan walker#konig x reader#horangi x reader#cod nikto#nikto x reader#cod headcanons#cod fanfic
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Flavours of Prythian
Coming from that request
paring; Azriel x reader
summary; Y/N, a talented restaurateurâs life is turned upside down when she forms an unexpected bond with Azriel, the mysterious Spymaster of the Night Court. Befriending Elain, who confides in her about a male sheâs trying to win over, she eagerly helps her new friend â only to discover the male is none other than Azriel. When the bond between her and Azriel snaps at first touch, sheâs torn between loyalty to Elain and the undeniable connection she shares with the shadowy warrior.
word count ; 7.8k
warning; //
notes; Yoo everyone, here is my first one shot ! Thank you again for the request<333 Should I do a more general taglist so that you guys can be permanently on it. Enjoy it, see you <3
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Prythian was a land of many wonders, from the towering peaks of the Illyrian mountains to the lush, rolling hills of the Spring Court. But for you, the true magic of the land was found in its kitchens, markets, and the rich flavors that each court had to offer.
You had always been drawn to the culinary arts, even as a child. Your curiosity led you to travel across the courts, tasting the distinct dishes of each region, learning from the most skilled chefs, and uncovering the hidden culinary gems that most would overlook. You spent years journeying from the Day Court, where spices danced like sunlight on the tongue, to the Winter Court, where hearty stews and warm bread were a staple against the biting cold. In the Night Court, you discovered the delicate balance of flavors that mirrored the starlit skies above, and in the Summer Court, you indulged in the rich, vibrant tastes that seemed to capture the very essence of the sun-drenched beaches.
Your travels werenât just about satisfying your own cravings; they were a quest to bring the best of Prythianâs diverse cuisines to others. And so, you did the impossibleâyou opened a series of restaurants, each one in a different court, each one a testament to the culinary traditions you had learned and made your own. Your establishments became a haven for those seeking not only a good meal but an experience, a journey through Prythianâs tastes and textures without ever leaving their seat.
Your flagship restaurant, nestled in the heart of Velaris, was particularly special. It was here, in the City of Starlight, that you combined the flavors of all the courts into a menu that was as varied and enchanting as Prythian itself. Word quickly spread of the remarkable dishes served within, and soon, it wasnât just the citizens of Velaris who came to dineâHigh Fae from every court sought out your creations.
One such evening, as you oversaw the final preparations for the dinner service, the door to your restaurant swung open, and in walked a familiar faceâElain Archeron. Elain had been wandering through Velaris, taking in the beauty of the city, when the warm, inviting aroma from your restaurant had drawn her in.
Elain was known for her gentle nature, her love of gardening, and her keen eye for beauty in all things. But tonight, she was here for something differentâa new experience, a chance to explore another form of beauty through the culinary delights that had been whispered about throughout the city.
As Elain took her seat near a window overlooking the Sidra, she immediately felt at ease. There was a sense of comfort and warmth in the restaurant, and it wasnât long before you found yourself walking over to greet her. She looked up with a warm smile, her eyes bright with curiosity and a touch of shyness.
âWelcome,â you said, your own smile reflecting her warmth. âIâm Y/N, the owner and chef here. Itâs a pleasure to have you.â
Elainâs smile widened, and she nodded appreciatively. âIâve heard so much about this place, I just had to come see for myself. The aromas alone are worth the visit.â
You chuckled, feeling an instant connection with her. âIâm glad to hear that. Iâll make sure the food lives up to the expectations.â
As the evening went on, you found yourself returning to Elainâs table more than once, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. You talked about your travels, the different courts you had visited, and the inspiration behind some of the dishes on the menu. Elain, in turn, shared stories of her ownâof her love for gardening, the peace she found in the quiet moments spent among the flowers, and her growing appreciation for the little joys in life, like a perfectly prepared meal.
There was something comforting in the way you both connected, as if you had known each other for much longer than just one evening. By the time dessert arrivedâa delicate pastry inspired by the flavors of the Summer Courtâyou and Elain were chatting like old friends, the conversation punctuated by shared laughter and the occasional appreciative hum as she tasted each new dish.
As the night drew to a close, Elain hesitated for a moment before speaking. âIâd love to come back,â she said, her voice soft but sincere. âMaybe we could do this again sometime?â
You smiled, genuinely pleased by the idea. âIâd like that. Youâre welcome anytime, Elain.â
Elain quickly became a regular fixture at your restaurant, her visits growing more frequent as the two of you bonded over shared stories, laughter, and the occasional glass of wine. It wasnât long before your casual conversations began to take on a more personal tone, with Elain confiding in you about her life, her hopes, and her dreams.
One evening, after the dinner rush had died down and the restaurant had settled into a peaceful hum, Elain arrived with a particular glint in her eye. You noticed it the moment she walked in, her steps lighter, her smile brighter. She took her usual seat by the window, and you didnât waste any time joining her, a knowing smile on your face.
âAlright, Elain,â you said, sitting down across from her. âYouâre glowing tonight. Whatâs going on?â
Elain blushed, her hands fluttering nervously in her lap. âItâs nothing, really⌠Well, maybe itâs something. I donât know.â
You leaned in closer, eyes wide with curiosity. âCome on, you canât just leave me hanging like that. Spill!â
She bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before finally giving in. âThereâs⌠this male,â she began, her voice soft but filled with excitement. âIâve been trying to get his attention for a while now, and I think⌠I think it might actually be working.â
You couldnât help but squeal in delight, clapping your hands together. âElain! This is amazing! Tell me everythingâwho is he? How did it start? Whatâs he like?â
Elain giggled at your enthusiasm, her own excitement bubbling to the surface as she began to share the details. âHeâs⌠well, heâs different. Reserved, I guess you could say. But thereâs something about him that just draws me in. Heâs kind, in his own way, and he has this quiet strength that I really admire.â
You listened intently, hanging on her every word as she described this mysterious male who had captured her attention. It was clear that she was smitten, and you couldnât help but feel a surge of excitement for her.
âSo, whatâs the plan?â you asked, your mind already racing with ideas. âHow are you going to win him over?â
Elain smiled shyly, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. âWell, I thought⌠maybe I could start by cooking for him. You know, something simple but special. He loves good food, and I think it might help him see⌠well, see me.â
You practically jumped out of your seat with excitement. âElain, thatâs perfect! And youâre in the right placeâI can help you with recipes, tips, anything you need. Weâll make sure this meal is unforgettable.â
Her eyes lit up with gratitude. âReally? Youâd help me?â
âOf course!â you replied, beaming. âThis is what friends are for. And besides, I love a good love story. Weâll make sure he canât resist you after this.â
From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. Elain would visit the restaurant every few days, sometimes to try out a new dish, other times just to chat and share the latest developments in her budding romance. The more she talked about this male, the more you could see how deeply she cared for him, and it made you all the more determined to help her succeed.
You spent hours in the kitchen together, experimenting with different ingredients and techniques, crafting meals that were not only delicious but also filled with meaning. Elain would watch you work, her eyes wide with admiration as you explained the significance of each spice, each flavor, and how it could be used to convey emotion.
âThereâs a language in food,â you told her one afternoon as you kneaded dough for a loaf of bread. âEvery dish tells a story. When you cook for someone, youâre sharing a part of yourself with them. Itâs intimate, in a way.â
Elain nodded thoughtfully, her hands busy chopping herbs for the soup you were preparing. âI never thought of it like that, but it makes sense. I want him to know how I feel, even if I canât always find the words.â
You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for your friend. âThen weâll make sure every bite he takes is filled with love.â
As the days turned into weeks, Elainâs visits became a highlight of your day. She would burst through the door, her eyes sparkling as she recounted her latest interactions with the male who had stolen her heart. You would listen with rapt attention, offering advice and encouragement, celebrating every small victory and reassuring her during moments of doubt.
âHe loved the soup,â she told you one evening, her cheeks flushed with happiness. âHe said it was the best thing heâd ever tasted. And I think⌠I think heâs starting to notice me.â
You grinned, feeling a surge of pride. âI told you, Elain. No one can resist good food, especially when itâs made with love.â
She laughed, her joy infectious. âI couldnât have done it without you, Y/N. Youâve helped me so much.â
You waved off her gratitude with a smile. âNonsense. Youâre the one doing all the hard work. Iâm just here to cheer you on.â
But the truth was, you had come to care deeply for Elain and her happiness. It wasnât just about the food anymoreâit was about seeing your friend find the love and connection she so deserved. And as she continued to come back, sharing her hopes and dreams, you couldnât help but feel that you had found something special too.
Your friendship with Elain had become a source of joy and fulfillment, a reminder that sometimes, the most meaningful connections were forged in the simplest of momentsâover a shared meal, a quiet conversation, or a burst of laughter that echoed through the night.
And so, as the seasons changed and the nights grew longer, you continued to help Elain in her quest to win over this mysterious male, knowing that whatever the outcome, you had found a true friend in her. A friend who had come into your life unexpectedly, but who had quickly become an irreplaceable part of it.
Weeks had passed since you and Elain had first started crafting meals together, each one a carefully planned step in her quest to win over the male who had captivated her heart. Every visit, every dish, brought a new story, a new glimmer of hope in her eyes. You were genuinely happy for her, thrilled to see her so full of life and excitement. So, when she asked if she could bring him to your restaurant for dinner, you couldnât have been more supportive.
âOf course, Elain!â youâd said, flashing her an encouraging smile. âIâll make sure everything is perfect. Itâll be a night he wonât forget.â
Youâd spent the entire day preparing, selecting only the finest ingredients and crafting a menu that would showcase the very best of what your restaurant had to offer. You wanted this night to be special for herâspecial for them. You had no idea how special it would become, for reasons you never could have imagined.
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city of Velaris in a warm, golden glow, Elain arrived at the restaurant with a male by her side. You couldnât quite make out his features at first, but the way she clung to his arm, her eyes bright with anticipation, told you all you needed to know. This was the one.
As they stepped into the softly lit dining room, you finally got a good look at himâAzriel, the shadowsinger of the Night Court. You had heard of him, of course, through whispers and stories, but nothing could have prepared you for the moment your eyes met his.
Elain beamed as she introduced the two of you, her voice filled with warmth and pride. âAzriel, this is Y/N, the wonderful chef Iâve been telling you about. And Y/N, this is Azriel.â
He extended his hand to you, his expression polite, reserved. âItâs a pleasure to meet you,â he said, his voice deep and smooth.
You reached out, intending to greet him with the same friendly courtesy you offered all your patrons. But the moment your hand touched his, something shifted in the airâa sudden, overwhelming rush of heat and energy that took your breath away. The bond snapped into place with such force that it nearly knocked you off your feet.
For a split second, the world around you faded, and all you could feel was the pull, the undeniable connection that tethered your soul to his. His eyes widened in shock, and you knew he felt it tooâthe bond, the realization that fate had just entwined your lives in a way neither of you had expected.
But as quickly as the bond formed, reality came crashing back down. Elain was standing there, her eyes full of hope, completely unaware of the storm that had just erupted inside you. She had no idea that the male she was so clearly infatuated with, the one she had been working so hard to win over, was now bound to you in a way that went beyond anything you could have ever imagined.
Panic surged through you. How could this happen? How could you possibly accept this bond when it would mean shattering the friendship you had built with Elain, when it would mean taking away the one thing she wanted so desperately?
You couldnât. You wouldnât.
With a forced smile, you quickly withdrew your hand from Azrielâs grasp, the warmth of the bond lingering like a phantom touch. âItâs nice to meet you too,â you managed to say, though your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears.
Azrielâs gaze lingered on you, confusion and something deeper flickering in his hazel eyes. But you couldnât let yourself look too long, couldnât let yourself feel what was brewing inside you. Not when Elain was standing right there, her happiness hanging in the balance.
âPlease, take a seat,â you said, stepping back and motioning toward the table you had specially prepared for them. âIâll make sure everything is perfect.â
Elain smiled, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart, and took her seat. Azriel hesitated for just a moment before following suit, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you, but you didnât dare meet his eyes again. You couldnât.
As the evening went on, you did your best to stay professional, to act as if nothing had changed. You brought out dish after dish, each one more exquisite than the last, all while ignoring the fire burning in your chest. Every time Azriel tried to catch your eye, every time he tried to speak to you, you found a reason to turn away, to focus on somethingâanythingâelse.
Elain chattered on, completely unaware of the tension building between you and Azriel. She complimented the food, praised your skills, and even mentioned how much Azriel seemed to be enjoying himself. And through it all, you kept up the facade, kept pretending as if the bond snapping into place hadn't turned your entire world upside down.
But it was getting harder. With every glance Azriel sent your way, with every quiet question he tried to ask you in passing, it felt like the invisible thread between you was pulling tighter, demanding to be acknowledged. Yet, you refused to give in.
As the night dragged on, the tension between you and Azriel grew unbearable. He could sense itâyou knew he couldâbut Elain remained blissfully unaware, happily recounting the gossip from the latest happenings in Velaris, smiling every time she caught Azriel glancing her way.
Azriel's eyes kept drifting back to you. Not once, not twice, but every time you approached the table, as if he couldnât stop himself. You could feel the weight of his gaze burning into you, the way his expression darkened each time you brushed past him without so much as a word. He knew you were avoiding him, and he didnât like it.
When you brought out the final dishâan indulgent dessert meant to close the evening on a sweet noteâElain excused herself to step outside for a moment, leaving you alone with Azriel for the first time since the bond snapped.
You could feel his presence before you even turned around, the quiet intensity of his gaze. And as you set the plate down in front of him, you knew you couldnât avoid this confrontation any longer.
âY/N.â His voice was low, barely more than a murmur, but the way he said your name sent a shiver down your spine. âWe need to talk.â
You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes firmly fixed on the table in front of you. âThereâs nothing to talk about,â you said, your voice cold and distant, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you.
Azriel leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. âDonât lie to me. You felt it too.â
The bond. He didnât have to say the word for you to know what he meant. It was a truth that hung in the air between you, undeniable and impossible to ignore. And yet, you had to. You had to protect Elain, to protect your friendship, no matter the cost.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you lied, your heart aching with the effort it took to deny the pull you felt toward him.
Azrielâs expression darkened, his hand curling into a fist on the table. âDonât do this, Y/N. Donât shut me out.â
But you couldnât let him in. If you let him in, if you allowed yourself to even consider what the bond meant, you would be betraying Elain in the worst way possible. How could you even think about being with him when she had spent weeks confiding in you, trusting you with her feelings for him?
âNo, Azriel.â You stepped back, your voice firmer this time. âI canât.â
His eyes narrowed slightly, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. âWhy? Because of Elain?â
You winced at the mention of her name, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on your chest. âShe cares about you. A lot.â
Azriel's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. âY/N, itâs not like that between Elain and me.â
But you shook your head, refusing to let yourself believe it. âIt doesnât matter. Sheâs my friend. I canâtâI wonâtâdo this to her.â
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with tension, a storm of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. Azriel opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the sound of the door opening broke the silence.
Elain re-entered the dining room, a bright smile on her face as she made her way back to the table. âSorry about that,â she said cheerfully, oblivious to the charged atmosphere between you and Azriel. âWhat did I miss?â
You forced a smile, masking the turmoil raging inside you. âNothing,â you lied, your voice steady even though your heart was breaking. âJust making sure everythingâs perfect.â
Elain beamed, clearly pleased with how the evening had gone. âIt really has been perfect, Y/N. Thank you so much for everything.â
Azrielâs gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally looked away, the tension in his jaw clear as he nodded in agreement. âYes⌠thank you.â
You nodded once, offering them both a stiff smile before excusing yourself from the room, your chest tightening with every step you took away from them.
As you retreated to the quiet of the kitchen, your hands bracing against the counter, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. The bond had snapped. Azriel was your mate. And yet, you couldnâtâwouldnâtâaccept it.
You had promised yourself youâd never hurt Elain. And if shutting down every advance Azriel made, if pushing away the one person the Cauldron had chosen for you was the only way to keep that promise, then thatâs exactly what you would do.
Even if it tore you apart.
Back in the kitchen, you leaned heavily against the counter, your hands gripping the cold marble surface as you tried to regain your composure. The bond had snapped, and with it, any sense of stability you had managed to hold onto throughout the evening. The world felt off-kilter, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the brink.
One of your sous chefs, a sharp-eyed female who had worked with you since the restaurantâs inception, noticed your pallor. She set down the pan she was holding and approached you, concern evident in her eyes.
âY/N,â she began cautiously, her voice gentle but probing, âare you alright? You look like youâve seen a ghost.â
You forced a nod, though you knew your expression wasnât convincing. âIâm fine,â you murmured, though your voice was shaky and unsteady.
She frowned, clearly not buying your response. Her eyes scanned your face, taking in the unusual paleness of your skin, the way your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the counter. âYou donât look fine. Do you need to sit down? Maybe get some air?â
You shook your head, trying to brush off her concern, but the weight of the bond pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. âNo, Iâll be okay. Itâs just⌠been a long night.â
She hesitated, still studying you closely, before glancing around the bustling kitchen. âBut, Y/N,â she continued, her tone turning more inquisitive, âitâs strange. You always insist on preparing Miss Elainâs meals yourself, especially when sheâs bringing a guest. But tonight, you didnât even touch the preparation. You left it all to us.â
You froze at her words, the reality of what had happened sinking in even deeper. She was rightânormally, you would have insisted on handling every detail of Elainâs meal, wanting to ensure that everything was perfect for your friend. But tonight, when it mattered most, you hadnât been able to bring yourself to do it.
The truth was, the moment you realized Elain was bringing someone special, you couldnât bring yourself to touch the ingredients. You had let the staff handle everything because deep down, some part of you knew something was about to changeâsomething you werenât ready to face.
âIâŚâ you started, but the words caught in your throat. You swallowed hard, trying to find some semblance of an explanation. âI just thought⌠maybe it was time to let you all handle it. Youâre more than capable.â
She tilted her head slightly, her frown deepening as she searched your eyes. âAre you sure thatâs all it is?â
You nodded again, more firmly this time, even though the lie tasted bitter on your tongue. âYes, Iâm sure. I trust all of you with the kitchen. You donât need me hovering over every detail.â
She didnât seem entirely convinced, but she didnât press the issue further. Instead, she offered a small, supportive smile. âWell, if you ever need a break, donât hesitate to step out. Weâve got things under control here.â
âThank you,â you whispered, your voice barely audible. âI appreciate it.â
With a final nod, she returned to her station, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the crushing weight of the bond you were trying so desperately to ignore.
You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you tried to push away the overwhelming emotions swirling inside you. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldnât shake the image of Azrielâs eyes, the way they had widened in shock and recognition when the bond snapped into place. You couldnât forget the warmth of his hand in yours, the way the world had seemed to narrow down to just the two of you in that fleeting, life-altering moment.
But Elain⌠you couldnât do this to Elain. You couldnât shatter her hopes, her dreams, just because of a bond you had never asked for. So, you did the only thing you couldâyou steeled yourself, pushed down the emotions threatening to break free, and vowed to keep your distance from Azriel, no matter how much it hurt.
You would be there for Elain, just as you always had been. You would help her win over the male she had been trying so hard to impress, even if it meant denying your own heart in the process.
Because thatâs what friends did. They put each other first, no matter the cost.
And as you stood there in the kitchen, surrounded by the comforting sounds of sizzling pans and clinking utensils, you made a silent promise to yourself: you would protect Elainâs happiness, even if it meant sacrificing your own.
â
Azriel sat in the sitting room of the townhouse, surrounded by the familiar faces of the inner circle, yet he felt completely out of place. The evening had been an unexpected whirlwind of emotions, leaving him reeling from the bond that had snapped so suddenly and without warning. He had come here to find solace, to clear his mind, but every thought seemed to spiral back to youâthe way you had looked at him, the way you had recoiled after the bond had formed during dinner at your restaurant.
He couldnât understand it. How could something so significant be brushed aside so easily? He had tried to reach out to you, to understand what was happening, but you had shut him down, leaving him to grapple with the weight of the bond on his own.
The others were chatting around him, the sound of their laughter and conversation filling the room, but it all felt distant, muffled. Azrielâs mind was too clouded to focus on anything they were saying. He was trapped in a loop, replaying the moment over and over in his headâthe spark, the connection, the way your eyes had widened in recognition before you quickly masked it.
He was so lost in thought that he almost missed it when Rhysand mentioned your name.
âYou know, Y/Nâs restaurant is one of the best in Velaris,â Rhys was saying, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. âFeyre and I went there a few nights ago, and it was nothing short of incredible.â
Feyre nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up at the memory. âThe food was amazing. Every dish was like a work of art. She really has a talent, doesnât she?â
Mor, who was lounging on one of the couches, joined in with a grin. âThatâs not even the half of it. Y/Nâs got restaurants all over Prythianâone in each court, if you can believe it. Sheâs become a bit of a legend in the culinary world.â
Azrielâs heart sank further as they continued to praise you, each word driving the knife deeper into his chest. It wasnât that he disagreed with themâhe knew you were remarkable, talented, someone to be admired. But right now, every mention of your name was like salt in a wound that was already festering.
Cassian, who had been listening with a smirk on his face, finally spoke up, his tone playful. âSounds like Az here missed out on one hell of a meal tonight. Maybe heâll have to go back and get a taste of what everyoneâs raving about.â
Azriel tensed, the comment hitting far too close to home. He knew Cassian was just joking, but the implicationâthe reminder of what had happened tonightâwas too much to bear. Without a word, he pushed himself up from his chair, his movements abrupt enough to draw everyoneâs attention.
âAz?â Feyre called out, concern lacing her voice as she watched him head for the door. âAre you alright?â
He didnât trust himself to respond. Instead, he muttered something about needing some air and quickly left the room, the weight of their gazes heavy on his back as he made his escape.
As the door closed behind him, an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Everyone exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by Azrielâs sudden departure.
âWhatâs gotten into him?â Rhysand wondered aloud, his brows furrowed in confusion.
Cassian, never one to let an opportunity for humor pass by, snorted and shook his head. âProbably just realized heâs been a brooding mess all night and couldnât handle the idea of someone actually having a good time.â
Mor chuckled, though there was a trace of worry in her eyes. âOr maybe he just canât handle the fact that Y/Nâs cooking is so damn good, it knocked him off his game.â
Rhysand sighed, glancing toward the door Azriel had just walked through. âHeâs been off since he got back tonight. Maybe something happened.â
Feyre bit her lip, her expression softening. âI hope heâs alright. He seemed⌠different.â
Cassian, ever the optimist, leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin. âHeâll be fine. Az is tougher than all of us combined. He just needs some time to brood in his room, and heâll be back to his grumpy self in no time.â
The group shared a few more laughs at Azrielâs expense, but the concern in their eyes never fully faded. They all knew Azriel well enough to understand that when he withdrew like this, it meant something was seriously bothering him.
Azrielâs footsteps were heavy as he made his way to his room, the quiet of the hallway amplifying the thoughts swirling in his mind. As soon as he entered, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes as he tried to block out the noise, the chaos of emotions inside him.
He couldnât shake the feeling of your hand in his, the way the bond had snapped into place like it had always been there, waiting. The connection was undeniable, and yet⌠you had denied it. Denied him.
Why? The question gnawed at him, refusing to let him rest. He had seen the recognition in your eyes, the brief moment when you had felt it too. But then, you had shut down, shut him out as if the bond meant nothing.
It was more than just confusingâit was painful. Azriel had spent centuries in the shadows, watching from the sidelines as his friends found their mates, found love. He had accepted his place, accepted that perhaps it wasnât meant for him. And then, in the span of a heartbeat, everything had changed. You had changed it.
And now⌠now he was left in this strange limbo, caught between the undeniable pull of the bond and the walls you had erected between you.
Azrielâs fists clenched at his sides as he fought the urge to storm back to your restaurant, to demand answers, to make you acknowledge what had happened. But he knew he couldnât do that. He couldnât force you to accept the bond, couldnât force you to feel something you clearly werenât ready to face.
With a frustrated sigh, Azriel pushed off the door and crossed the room, heading to the window that overlooked Velaris. The city was peaceful, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, but his mind was anything but. He rested his forehead against the cool glass, his eyes scanning the distant lights of the city below.
âWhy?â he whispered into the empty room, his voice tinged with a desperation he rarely allowed himself to feel. âWhy wonât you let me in?â
But the night offered no answers, only the quiet whisper of the wind as it brushed against the windowpane.
â
The next day passed in a blur. You threw yourself into your work, letting the familiar rhythm of chopping, stirring, and plating distract you from the turmoil brewing inside. The restaurant had been busy, as always, with customers filling every table, their laughter and chatter echoing through the dining room. But despite the bustle, you couldnât shake the heavy weight in your chestâthe bond that you were trying so desperately to ignore.
When the last customer had left, you sent your staff home, insisting that you would handle the closing on your own. You needed the time alone, needed to clear your head without the distraction of others around. As the front door clicked shut behind the last of your employees, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.
The kitchen was quiet now, save for the soft sound of the knife in your hand as you prepped ingredients for the next day. The rhythmic motion of slicing through vegetables was soothing, almost meditative. But as you worked, you couldnât help but feel the tension still coiled tight in your chest.
You were focused on the task at hand, chopping carrots with practiced precision, when a voice cut through the silence, making you freeze in place.
âI bet you could be good with a sword with how you work that knife,â came the familiar, deep voice, tinged with a hint of amusement. âPersonally, I wouldnât want to be those carrots.â
Your hand stilled mid-slice, the knife hovering just above the cutting board. You knew that voice all too wellâAzriel.
Slowly, you turned to face him, finding him standing just inside the doorway to the kitchen, his expression guarded but his eyes full of determination. He had changed out of his usual leathers, dressed instead in a simple tunic and trousers, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his gaze.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from the previous night hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. You could feel the bond thrumming faintly between you, a constant reminder of the connection you were trying so hard to deny.
But you knew why he was here. You had been avoiding him all day, refusing to even think about the conversation you knew was coming. But now, with the restaurant empty and the two of you alone, there was no escaping it.
You set the knife down on the counter, wiping your hands on a nearby towel as you steeled yourself for what was about to happen.
You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay calm as you faced Azriel. The tension in the room was almost palpable, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between you. You had been dreading this conversation, but there was no avoiding it now.
âYou shouldnât have come back,â you said, your voice firm, though you could hear the tremor in it. âWe canât do this, Azriel.â
His brow furrowed, confusion flashing in his eyes. âWhy not? Y/N, you felt it too. The bondâit snapped into place. We canât just ignore that.â
You shook your head, your heart aching at the look on his face. âIâm not ignoring it. But I canâtâI wonât act on it. Not when Elain⌠Not when sheâs been trying so hard to win you over.â
Azrielâs eyes widened in realization, and he took a step closer to you, his expression softening as he reached out. âY/N, I think thereâs been a misunderstanding. Elain wasnât trying to win me over⌠not in the way you think.â
You hesitated, frowning as you tried to make sense of his words. âWhat do you mean? Sheâs been telling me everything, Azriel. How sheâs been trying to get your attention, how much she cares about you⌠I canât do that to her. I wonât be the one to hurt her like that.â
Azriel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, clearly frustrated but determined to set things right. âY/N, you donât have the full story. Elain⌠sheâs not interested in me like that. Sheâs been trying to make Lucien jealous.â
You blinked, taken aback by his words. âLucien? But⌠heâs her mate. Why would she do that?â
Azriel nodded, his expression softening as he saw the confusion in your eyes. âYes, heâs her mate. But theyâve been going through a rough patch lately. Lucienâs duties as emissary for the Night Court have kept him away, and Elainâs been feeling⌠neglected. She thought that by spending time with me, by pretending there was something more between us, she could get a reaction out of him. It was never about me, Y/N. It was always about Lucien.â
You felt your heart drop as the realization hit you. âSo, you were just helping her as a friend?â
Azriel nodded again, his gaze steady as he took a step closer to you. âExactly. I was only doing this to help her. I never had feelings for her in that way, and she knows that. We were just⌠playing a part to get Lucienâs attention.â
You swallowed hard, the pieces of the puzzle starting to fall into place. âShe didnât tell me any of this.â
âShe probably didnât want to worry you,â Azriel said gently. âOr maybe she wasnât ready to admit it to herself. But I promise you, Y/N, thereâs nothing between Elain and me. There never was. Sheâs still trying to figure things out with Lucien, and I was just trying to help her.â
You looked away, your mind racing to process everything Azriel was telling you. You had been so sure, so convinced that you were protecting Elain by shutting Azriel out. But now, with this new information, everything felt uncertain, like the ground had shifted beneath your feet.
âAzriel, IâŚâ you started, but the words caught in your throat. You didnât know what to say, how to respond. You had built up walls around your heart, walls meant to protect both you and Elain from the pain of betrayal. But now those walls were crumbling, leaving you vulnerable and confused.
Azriel took another step closer, his voice gentle as he spoke. âY/N, please. Donât shut me out. Letâs talk about thisâreally talk. Give me a chance to show you that this bond isnât something to be feared. Itâs something that could be⌠everything.â
You stood there, trying to process everything Azriel had just told you. The confusion, the guilt, the realization that you had misunderstood everythingâit all came crashing down at once. You looked away from Azriel, your gaze dropping to the floor as you struggled to make sense of it all.
âOkay,â you finally muttered, more to yourself than to him. âNow I actually feel like a dumbass.â
The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you cringed internally. But when you glanced back up at Azriel, you found him staring at you with wide eyes for a momentâbefore a warm, rich laugh escaped him. It was a sound you hadnât expected, a sound that cut through the tension and made your own lips twitch into a reluctant smile.
Azriel shook his head, still chuckling softly. âYouâre not a dumbass, Y/N. Just⌠someone who cares a lot about her friend.â
You let out a shaky breath, your shoulders relaxing slightly as the weight of the misunderstanding began to lift. But even with the air between you lightened, you couldnât shake the lingering worry, the uncertainty of what this all meant.
âI just⌠I donât know you that well,â you admitted, your voice quieter now, more hesitant. âAnd this bond⌠itâs a lot to take in. I was so worried about Elainâs feelings that I didnât even stop to think about how I felt. About how to navigate this.â
Azrielâs expression softened further, and he took a careful step closer, making sure not to crowd you. âI understand. The bond is⌠overwhelming, especially when it comes out of nowhere. And I know we donât know each other well yet, but thatâs something we can work on. We donât have to rush into anything, Y/N. We can take this one step at a time, if thatâs what you need.â
You looked up at him, meeting his gaze fully for the first time since the bond had snapped. There was no pressure in his eyes, no demandâjust a quiet patience that made your heart ache with a strange mix of relief and something else, something warmer.
âBut⌠what if this doesnât work?â you asked, your voice small, the fear you had been trying to suppress finally finding its way out. âWhat if I canât be what you need?â
Azrielâs eyes softened even more, and he shook his head gently. âY/N, you donât have to be anything but yourself. The bond doesnât demand perfectionâitâs just a connection, a starting point. We figure the rest out together.â
You swallowed, feeling the sincerity in his words. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but it was tempered now by something elseâa tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, this could work.
âOkay,â you whispered, more to yourself than to him, but Azriel caught it nonetheless.
He smiled softly, his wings shifting slightly as if in relief. âOkay,â he echoed. âOne step at a time.â
For a moment, you both stood there in the quiet of the kitchen, the bond humming faintly between you. It wasnât perfect, and it wasnât without its complications, but it was something. And for the first time since the bond had snapped, you felt like maybe you could handle thisâtogether.
Azriel extended his hand, not as a demand, but as an offer. âHow about we start with something simple? A walk, maybe? Just to talk, get to know each other.â
You hesitated for a moment, the anxiety still lingering, but then you nodded slowly, reaching out to take his hand. His grip was warm, reassuring, and as his fingers closed around yours, you felt a little of that fear ease away.
âYeah,â you agreed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. âA walk sounds good.â
And as you both stepped out of the kitchen, hand in hand, you couldnât help but feel that maybeâjust maybeâthis was the beginning of something worth taking a chance on.
#azriel fic#rhysand#azriel#cassian#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x you#sword#a court of thorns and roses#acotar series#acotar fanfiction#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#acotar fanfic#acotar x reader#acotar x you#elain
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Need fluff with logan and a southern reader pretty pretty pls!!!
Iâm from a hawt place so a winter man in a winter cabin is needed right about now. Please can I request headcanons or a one shot about the reader that bakes him so many sweets/makes so much food for winter he gets chubby and notices, maybe they swap recipes or bake together? Just so much domestic fluff
Itâs a primal need to see this man happy, unbothered in the Canadian wilderness, thriving with anything his heart wants and I know I can make that happen lmao
taste of home
bigdaddy!loganxsouthern!reader
a/n: i got so inspired by this request that I started and finished in one session! was definitely needed to whip up some cute cozy feel feel-good after the hours of writing smut for Ravish. thank you for the request, my asks are always open! hope y'all enjoy it! <3 a/n: i got so inspired by this request that I started and finished in one session! was definitely needed to whip up some cute cozy feel feel-good after the hours of writing smut for Ravish. thank you for the request, my asks are always open! hope y'all enjoy it! <3
wc: 1k
18+ MDNI | sexual themes, FLUFF, the name daddy is used.
summary: Y/N has been a little homesick lately and found a temporary cure through baking for Logan.
"What're you getting all dolled up for?" Logan cooed from the doorframe he was leaning on, his arms crossed.Â
Your eyes met his reflection in the mirror of your vanity.Â
"Nothin', just felt like being pretty." You smiled up at him as you put on your pearl earrings.Â
It was true, you had nowhere to go. Logan's cabin was located in quite literally the middle of nowhere. Miles and miles of trees surrounded the property secluding you both from any and all civilization.Â
Back home, it was part of your routine to get ready for the day even though all you'd do was stay home. There was something fulfilling about looking your best every day: if you looked good, you felt good.
You had felt a little homesick lately.
 Logan had dragged you deep into the Canadian forests for the winter because he couldn't stand the southern heat that you were used to. At first, you weren't a fan of the idea, but seeing as how happy it made Logan, it made the move all worthwhile.
He'd let go of his negative ways, he was now affectionate, talkative, and adventurous. His being away from all the stress allowed him to show you some of his other colours and vibrant ones at that.
"What do you always say... as pretty as a plum?" He snorted.
"As a peach. It's pretty as a peach." You giggled.Â
"Well then, darling, you're as pretty as a peach." He corrected himself, pushing off the door frame and walking up behind your chair.
"Why thank you, Daddy," You blushed as he placed a gentle kiss on your exposed shoulder.Â
"God, I love it when you call me that." He groaned into your skin, giving you a soft bite.Â
You giggled from the slight pinch and finished getting ready with a few final pats of powder.Â
"Mmm, as much as I'd want to do that with you right now, know what day it is. It's my baking day, Lo'." You tipped your head back and pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek.Â
"Can't you do it tomorrow baby?" He huffed.
"You know it's tradition, Sunday is baking day. Do you want more sweets or what?" You raised an eyebrow.Â
"Yes, mam'." He chuckled, taking a seat on the bed and letting you get to your work station.
He knew how serious you got about your baking, it was your primary way of curing your homesickness.Â
You'd always keep a pitcher of sweet tea in the fridge and cupboards stocked with fresh bread and goodies. Logan could not bring himself to complain, he had developed a major sweet tooth since being with you. Every time you'd make new batches they would be gone in a matter of a few days. It's as if he'd eat one each time he'd pass by them.Â
You didn't mind though, it warmed your heart to see how much he enjoyed your baking. Often you'd find some powdered sugar left in his beard.Â
"You should watch it with those," You'd warn him as he devoured them, one by one.Â
"I got bones of steel. No need to worry baby, sugar is the last thing that'll take me out." He mumbled with his mouth full, not being able to control himself around your delicious treats.
His favourites were your peach cobbler, lemon bars and peanut butter-chocolate fudge. Those were also conveniently the easiest ones to make. You had tried to teach Logan how to make them on his own, but it never stuck.Â
"Why are they flat like pancakes? I followed your recipe," He had come to you while you left him unsupervised in the kitchen. You put your embroidery down and peered into the baking pan.Â
"Did you use baking powder?" You poked the gooey top of his 'cupcake.'Â
"Yes." He grumbled.
"Are you sure it was baking powder and not baking soda?" You tasted the batter, making a face. Salty.
"There's a difference?" His eyebrows furrowed.
Baking didn't come naturally to Logan, and that was okay. You had your strengths and he had his, which is what made you two work so well together.Â
You spent the entire day working up a storm in the kitchen.Â
Multitasking the different steps for each recipe with ease. You had spent so much time of your life baking that tackling multiple projects at once didn't even make you break a sweat. Logan turned his leather armchair to face you from across the house so he could watch you.Â
He enjoyed watching you get lost in your little head as you worked. The way your plump lips wrapped around your finger when you taste-tested the recipes, making sure they were just right for him. The slight lift of your dress as you bent over to grab some pans from storage. Your flushed skin, glowing underneath the kitchen light. That little sigh of relief would escape you as you tied your hair up from the heat of the oven. Just like that, silently, he'd ogle you from his corner, sipping his favourite whiskey, and watching his favourite doll.Â
Of course, at any chance he'd get he'd be there to come help you when you needed him to reach some things that were too high up or lift the heavy sac of flour on the counter for you.Â
Today, you had made the biggest batches yet, pans of cooling sweets covered your entire kitchen surface.Â
"Whoa baby, what're you feeding, the army?" Logan teased as he walked by shirtless.Â
When you first started seeing Logan, he was in optimal shape. He was nothing but an angry mess of hair and muscle. But since he moved you into the cabin, he had started putting on a few extra pounds, most likely from his overconsumption of your treats.Â
"No, I'm feeding a Wolverine that's clearly getting ready for winter." You teased back, poking his stomach.Â
 He stopped in his tracks and peered down at his hair-covered gut.Â
In no way shape or form did he look bad with the added weight, if anything you like him having a few extra layers?Â
"You callin' me fat?" Grinned mischievously.Â
"I was just playin- ah Logan!" You gasped as he threw you over his shoulder with a swift motion. Holding your ass right next to his face with his arm. He hoisted up your dress with his free hand, revealing your white bow panties. Your legs kicked in protest.Â
"Daddy, stop it- you're not fat-"Â
"That's not very nice baby, gonna need to punish you." He chuckled giving you a hard spank on the cheek, then placed you back down.Â
"Now if you will excuse me, I've gotta get ready for winter." He winked as he grabbed the cookie closest to him. Sinking with teeth in it with that smile you oh so fell in love with.Â
đˇď¸: @babey-fruit-bat <3
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#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine x reader#logan howlett x reader#x men 97#xmen x reader#logan howlett smut#logan x reader#logan howlett x you#logan smut#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine smut#hugh jackman#wolverine x you#x men wolverine#silly goofy mood#just girly things#⌠See all#logan howlett fluff#logan howlett fic#logan howlett fanfiction#logan howlett x y/n#logan fluff#wolverine fluff#wolverine x y/n#wolverine fic#wolverine fanfiction#x men
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07:15 AM â Miya Atsumu
summary: you have plans with your family, but your clingy husband thinks otherwise.
The chip of birds visiting the orange trees outside gently awakens you. With your eyelids half open, you can see them through the bedroom window, the sunâs rays helping to clear the vision. You smile as you spot two brown ones with yellow bellies, chirping at each other as if in casual conversation.
You have been waiting for this Saturday. With your sister-in-lawâs help, you finally set up a family picnic in the cherry tree square for today, accompanied by your husbands. Itâs been a while since you last saw them, and now that you and Atsumu have returned from a vacation trip, itâs the ideal time to rejoin.
Tsumu tried to pretend he didnât miss his brother, but everybody knows heâs the neediest twin. You even had to cook an onigiri in the middle of the Bahamas, just to quit his whines about the spicy food.
Now thinking of food, you remember you still need to pack the picnic basket. Knowing Osamu, heâll bring a lot of homemade food â youâre already salivating with the thought â, but you still want to contribute with some snacks and drinks. Maybe bring a cool lemonade and mini croissants from the bakery across the street. Tsumu loves the bread there, especially those stuffed with cream cheese and ham.
You slowly lift your torso, supported by your elbows as you try to check out the time on the nightstand's clock. 07:00 AM. Alright, you now have fifty minutes to pack things, take a shower, get ready, and wake up your sleepyhead husband.
 Let's do this.
âNo.â A pair of strong, familiar arms tighten around your middle, preventing you from leaving further.âGo back to sleep.â
There he is. Looking like a sleepy child, your husband snuggles into you, pressing his nose on the back of your neck. You can feel his calm breathing hitting your shoulder, and by the constancy, heâll end up falling asleep soon again.
Itâs amuzing how, even unconscious, he misses your presence.
His bear hold at least allows you to turn your body in his direction, facing the man you grow to love each day that passes by. You adore every single detail of him: his chubby cheeks pressed again the pillow, his disheveled blond hair, his thick eyebrows that look adorable when he frowns or raises in awe, and even his half-open mouth, a gap for the drool that slowly comes out of it.
Honestly, you could admire him for the rest of the day.Â
But you need to go.
âTsumuâŚâ You murmur, pressing a kiss on his nose. âWe need to get up, baby.â
He whines, tucking his head into the valley of your neck without breaking his grip on your body. You chuckle in response, preparing yourself to deal with his childish side.Â
Sof lips are pressed into your skin. âNo, we donât.â
You sigh, hands making a path toward his scalp, and you start kneading his locks. âYes, we do. We have a picnic with Samu and his wife today, remember?â
âLetâs ditch.â
You giggle at his proposal, and he raises his head to face you with a lazy smirk. Atsumu loves to make you giggle.
âG'mornin .â He mumbles flirty, getting closer to join your lips in a slow kiss, his warm hands caressing around the length of your back. Thereâs nothing better than a good morning kiss to start the day, thatâs what he always says.
âMorninâ baby.â You peck his lips one more time before parting, and he gazes at you with so much love, that you wonder if youâve ever seen someone look like that to their partner. You lower your hand to caress his face, making him close his eyes in delight, leaning into your touch to enjoy the most of this heavenly feeling.
But his pleasure doesn't last long.
âNow, how about we get ready for the day?â
âWhy do we have to go?â He complains with a frown paired with a small pout, pressing his forehead to yours.
âBecause we havenât seen them in a long time, baby. Donât you wanna see your brother?â
âWeâve seen each other before, one more day wonât hurt anyone.â He protests, holding you closer and catching your lips in a stolen peck. âI want to be with you.â
âBut we already spend every day together.â You counter.
âAnd thatâs why I married ya. Now, can ya please let me enjoy my wife in peace?â
You can't hold back your laughter, not believing the husband you got, but accepting your defeat nonetheless, thereâs no way you can beat Atsumu when he's like that.
And it's not that bad. Your original plan may be ruined, but in the end, you definitely wonât regret spending more time in your husbandâs arms.
Š asunflowerana 2024 â all rights reserved.
#w.hq#i want a hubby like that#haikyuu#hq x reader#hq#hq fluff#miya atsumu#miya atsumu x reader#miya atsumu x you#miya atsumu x y/n#hq atsumu#atsumu fluff#atsumu x reader#atsumu x y/n#atsumu x you#domestic fluff#{ bouquet }
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Kindred Spirits Pt. 2 | Azriel x Rhysâdaughter!Reader
Summary: After getting approval from your father, you and Azriel get to enjoy your mating bond in the privacy of the cabin in Illyria, eagerly experimenting with each other.
Word Count: ~3.7k
Warnings: SMUT, p in v penetration, oral (both ways), wingplay, sub Az, bath together, nudity, cutesy cuddles
Minors, do not interact!
A/N: Since this was so highly requested here it is, got a buncha inspiration from requests, hope you enjoy<3
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Requests are open!
A low groan slipped from your lips as you shifted beneath him in the bed. For the past hours, heâd been pounding into you, filling you over and over until both of your bodies were aching and sore.
He had been panting against your skin, harsh breaths slowly calming into the smooth, deep rhythm you were accustomed to.
Even now, you still wanted more, needed more, despite your bodyâs aching protests.
âWe need to get some food, Az.â
You murmured against the warm planes of his chest, the urge to lick and bite gnawing at you, only to shove it down. He sighed, slowly easing out of you and sitting on the edge of the bed. You couldnât help but miss the feeling of being filled by him almost immediately.
He turned to you, helping you sit up, his large, scarred hands supporting your back, one wrapping around your waist.
âAre you alright?â
His gentle tone had asked, hazel eyes gleaming with concern as his gaze ran over your body, hungry as ever, but noticing each little bruise on your hips from him holding you, or the bites and hickeys left on your neck.
Your mind immediately started wandering as you saw his bare body, eyes running over his muscular and lean form. He looked like heâd been sculpted by a god, scars marring some of his skin, running the length of his midnight wings that when the light hit them just right, purple would show through them, as well as the veins.
Not to mention the shadows, always swirling around him, now thick in the room and still leaving lingering whispers of touch on your skin, or his eyesâŚ
Focus.
You snapped out of your imagination, glancing up to meet his eyes, still concerned, but with a knowing, and amused, glint to them. He knew that you were absolutely enthralled with him, and he wouldnât expect any less from his mate, an adult but still a teenage female with all sorts of hormones flooding your system because of the bond.
âI..Iâm fine, just a little sore.â
He let out a hum at that, his gaze going down to your legs, still just barely trembling from your last climax. In a smooth motion, he scooped you up into his arms and began walking into the kitchen.
âI said Iâm sore, not disabled!â
You said, giving him an amused but exasperated look. He returned it with a level gaze, a smile on his lips.
âI wouldnât want you wasting any energy. Youâll need it for tonight.â
His sinfully charming voice spoke quietly, bringing a flush to your cheeks and making you shut your mouth for a good while, that familiar heat and slick that seemed ever-present these days building yet again in your body.
He sat you gently onto one of the chairs, the wood cold against your bare ass. You watched as he walked over to the stove, not bothering to throw any clothing on, and began making some food.
The smell of breakfast filled the kitchen as he scrambled eggs, and fried bacon, and threw a few pieces of bread into the toaster. Your gaze quickly wandered to the curve of his ass, how it sloped down into his muscular thighs, and hanging down between themâŚ
âHere,â
He spoke quietly, still startling you out of your thoughts, which seemed to be a common occurrence these days. He lifted you up, sitting in the chair before setting you down on his lap. Your eyes glazed over with lust and you whined, shifting to grind down against him, you felt his cock twitch, and his body tense, but he only shook his head, picking up your fork with one hand and offering you a bite of scrambled eggs, his other hand holding your hips still.
âPatience, love. You can have me again after breakfast.â
That statement sent a bit of embarrassment through your veins. You could barely even control your own body and thoughts, all consumed by him, and were so terribly impatient. You huffed, not feeling much like his equal in this moment as you leaned against his chest, taking the eggs into your mouth, chewing and swallowing, before giving him a bite of eggs from his plate.
âI know, but I canât help it. Not with the bond and..everything.â
He slowly chewed his food, looking down at you thoughtfully, your embarrassment probably palpable through the bond, which only further increased it.
âItâs nothing to be ashamed of.â
He reassured you after swallowing. You sighed, fork dropping from your hand with a clatter onto his plate.
âBut it feels like it is. You always turn me into an absolute puddle and take care of me, and I feel like I canât do anything for you.â
His eyes softened at your admission as he shifted your body up in his lap, so you were eye to eye with him.
âYouâre already doing everything for me, being my mate, letting me have you and provide for you.â
You opened your mouth to speak again, only for a piece of bacon to be pushed inside, effectively shutting you up as you glared at him. He thought a moment, before hesitantly speaking.
âWe could take a bath after this, and I could show you how to turn me into aâŚâpuddleâ?â
He offered, at which you nodded, still chewing the surprisingly good bacon. Learning how to turn the shadowsinger into an absolute mess sounded wonderful and also impossible at the same time. He was always so calm and collected that you couldnât picture him as a mess like you always were.
*********************************************************
Azriel knew he was in trouble the moment he stepped into the warm bath, wings spreading behind him as you eagerly joined him, chest to chest as the two of you began washing each otherâs bodies off, barely able to resist the hazy scent of arousal rising between you two in the air.
You were always so eager.
He found it adorable. How you were willing to do anything and everything for him, to try new things, bend over backward, both literally and figuratively, and test things. He knew you were a virgin, it had been quite obvious by how nervous and antsy youâd been, or just how sensitive and responsive you still were with him.
You whined as he slowly slid you down on his cock, throbbing again already even after the entire nightâs worth of activities.
He knew the mating bond would cause a frenzy, heâd heard Feyre and Rhys talk about theirs, not to mention Nesta and Cassian who he sometimes thought were still in the midst of it when he heard their feral fucking through the walls of the House of Wind at night, or day, or any time. Heâd once walked in on them in the library of all places.
But he hadnât known just how urgent it would feel, how every muscle in his body and his shadows demanded him to be buried deep inside you, fucking and filling you over and over until he was empty.
His hands went to hold your hips as you began grinding down on him, slowly guiding you and trying to stop himself from bucking up into you.
âYou want to know how to make me a mess?â
He asked, your little desperate nod confirming it. Always so eager to please. One of his scarred hands wrapped around your hand, leading it to the base of his wings.
âThere. Touch me, starting on the bottom and sides, and slowly get closer and add more pressure to my pulse point in the middle.â
He instructed, his wings already flaring out as you followed his instructions, soft hands with small callouses from the training Cassian gave you roaming the very base of his wings first, on the edges of it.
His breathing grew harsher, more resembling pants, and you couldâve sworn his bottom lip trembled slightly as his eyes rolled up, hips arching into yours.
âJust like that, sweet girl, so â oh, fuck..â
He groaned, hips slowly beginning to roll into yours, making his throbbing cock rub against that heavenly spot heâd already memorized inside of you. Your movements became a bit more desperate and frenzied as your entire hand then went to hold the bottom of the base, cupping and squeezing in a way that made him jerk.
His breathing was shaky, tears pricking his eyes as Azriel, who had the patience of a god and seemingly never-ending will, began whining and begging.
âPlease, right there, right - ahhh, good-â
It was so unbelievably hot seeing your stoic shadowsinger crumbling to pieces beneath your hands. As another climax rolled over your sensitive, shaking body, clenching around him, your hands moved to his pulse point, a sensitive vein in the center of the base of his wings, and squeezed, he came with a sound that you could only describe as a mix between and roar and a cry, body going limp and laying against the tub behind him as he painted your insides.
You settled against his chest, pressing kisses all over him, anywhere you could get them as he slowly recovered, eyes unglazing as he slowly blinked and caught his breath. One of his arms was wrapped around you.
Azriel wasnât sure what mustâve come over you, but as he relaxed, he saw a hint of something in your eyes, before you leaned forward and sunk your teeth right into the sensitive skin of his neck. Heâd let out an embarrassingly loud moan at it, his length immediately rising back to attention and hardening inside you.
From the way he looked down at you, eyes dark with hunger, you knew that you were in for a long night.
*********************************************************
And a long night it had been.
Heâd spent hours fucking himself into you, tasting you, licking up all you had to offer with that sinful tongue of his.
It was only when youâd agreed to let him stay inside throughout the rest of the night that heâd finally gone to sleep, and youâd slept like a rock, dreamless until waking up in the morning with a dry throat.
His hair was tousled, wings and arm wrapped around you in a protective cocoon, face serene and body relaxed in sleep. It was a sight you hated to interrupt, but you needed water. You shimmied your way out of his grasp, giving him a little kiss on the forehead and mumbling something about being thirsty.
Heâd groaned and seemingly went back to laying down, though not as good as when you were there.
Youâd trudged off to the kitchen, body sore and aching but wanting more, and gulped down an entire glass of water when you felt a familiar nudge against your mental walls.
âHowâs my girl doing?â
Your fatherâs voice rang out in your head, familiar and soothing to you. You smiled to yourself while drinking another cup of water.
âGood.â
âYouâve been gone two full days and all you have to say is that youâre doing good?â
You snorted into the water you were drinking, a small sly smirk curling on your lips.
âIf youâre so curious,â
You began, before letting him see a quick flash of all the activities you and Azriel had been getting up to. You felt him recoil from your mind almost immediately, clearly scarred from that alone.
It was then that you heard a light, almost imperceptible patter of feet against the wood, and saw Azriel, bare as you, rubbing his eyes with one hand and stroking his cock with the other, stalking quietly towards you.
You mustâve forgotten to put your mental walls back up because you heard your fatherâs voice chuckling before speaking.
âEnjoy yourself.â
He spoke simply, before fully withdrawing and your attention went to Azriel, who had a gleam of curiosity in his lust-clouded eyes.
âMy dad. He was checking in on me. Iâm not sure what he expected.â
You murmured, taking another sip of water as a low growl rumbled from Azrielâs chest, his lip curled up slightly and face contorted in what could only be described as territorial Fae bullshit. He huffed, clearly knowing he was ridiculous but not able to stop it.
âI donât want any other male talking to you. Not now.â
He said with what could easily be described as a pout, coming to wrap his arms possessively around your waist from behind, wandering up to your breasts, slowly kneading them.
You sighed, leaning back against him.
âHeâs my dad. Heâs just worried, Az.â
He huffed again.
âI know, I just..â
âCanât help it?â
âYes.â
You let out a little bit of laughter at that. That was the same way you felt. Unable to help anything your mind and body wanted, which right now, was him.
His nostrils flared as he easily scented your arousal, he leaned forward, slightly pushing your body against the counter.
âHere?â
You asked, a bit exasperated. His shadows swirled around you both, slowly easing your upper half onto the counter, bending you ever so gently over it.
âI want to..try something.â
He said, voice thick with desire. You were already dripping down your legs, and his cock easily ran through your folds, settling between your legs as you whined for him to just put it in already.
âPick a safe word.â
He said, all the while slowly easing into you. All the rabid fucking the past two days meant you didnât even need to be stretched for him anymore, you were more than used to the mind-numbing size of him. Your mind felt blank as you tried to come up with a decent safe word, easy to say and get out. Your gaze went to the fruit bowl on the counter, and you thought of the fruit youâd offered to your mate.
âApple.â
You said, immediately mentally facepalming at how stupid it was. Azriel only smirked and continued, inch after inch slowly sliding in. Shadows began sliding up your body, teasing your pert nipples before their forms settled on your wrists, pushing them forward, over your head, and in front of you on the counter, binding them down in a firm grip, but also careful not to hurt you as they whispered amongst themselves and to their master.
Any words that had been formed immediately fell to pieces as he began pounding into you only moments after bottoming out, moving like a rabbit in heat, desperate to fuck and fill. It was a dizzying, punishing pace he set, your hands bound above you only adding to it.
Wet squelching noises mixed with your moans and screams of him and his name, the sound of skin slapping against skin resounding as his balls hit the curve of your ass, tightening as he spilled inside of you.
He didnât stop.
It felt like you were there for hours, bent over that counter, some shadows rubbing your clit, Azrielâs hands groping your breasts and pinching your nipples, your hands bound. You couldnât count the number of times you fell completely apart around him, or the number of times he came.
âMine.â
He growled, the sound of his voice so possessive and animalistic sending heat straight into your core.
âYours, all yours.â
You managed to get out between your screams. It was too much, and he could feel it through the bond, how overwhelmed and overstimulated you were, but unless you said the safe word, he wasnât stopping.
âT- too much, Az, I canât-â
âYes, you can,â
His voice had growled out, pace somehow getting more frenzied and sloppy.
âYou can take it, just one more, I know you can.â
You took one more somehow, your body feeling heavy and overwhelmed with heat. You whined, wriggling underneath him. He only glanced down at you, hand now in your dark curls, and spoke.
âOne more.â
*********************************************************
His wet mouth came up from between your legs, his tongue darting out to lick his lips and clean off your remaining essence.
Azriel ate pussy like a starved man, licking and sucking everything he could, lapping it all up until you were falling apart around his tongue over and over. He saw your fucked out look and smiled softly, something that made your heart warm, before he slid up next to you on the bed.
He cradled your body against him, pressing wet kisses to your forehead. Your face was scrunched up in what looked like a thoughtful frown as you glanced up at him, a flush creeping up your cheeks. He tilted his head to the side a bit as curiosity took over.
âWhat is it?â
He asked quietly, clearly wondering if something was wrong or anything. You opened your mouth, closing it again, before just blurting it out.
âCan you teach me how to suck dick?â
You asked, wincing at the sting of embarrassment from you that had probably gone down the bond to him. His eyes widened a bit before he seemed to think. Thinking badly of his silence, you just began stammering.
âI mean, you donât have to, itâs just youâre always-â
âIâll teach you.â
His calm voice, holding both desire and affection in it, cut through your sentence as he looked down at you.
He leaned back, adjusting the pillows behind him, and gently spread his legs for you to access. He gestured to between his legs, and you shifted there and settled, eyes on his cock, already hardening again.
âStroke it first, to get it ready.â
He said, his hand guiding yours to his length, gently wrapping your fingers around it.
âHow do IâŚ?â
You asked, trailing off as his hand covered yours, making your hand slowly go back and forth, gently twisting and pulling on the thin, sensitive skin. He guided your thumb to swipe over his slit, then have your hands softly palm the head while he groaned softly.
âLike that, just keep doing that until itâs hard.â
He murmured to you, giving a nod of approval as his hand then drifted off to lay on the bed beside him as he leaned back, and loosely watched you.
It was a learning curve, for sure.
You tried to mimic the motions heâd made on it earlier, and after a few minutes of fumbling, you got a basic rhythm of stroking it up and down, lightly squeezing and stimulating the head. You watched his every reaction, even as precum beaded at the tip, you swiped it away with your thumb.
You followed through with that until it was stiff and firm as a rock, slapping against his stomach when you finally let your hand slip off of it.
âNow what?â
You asked, watching as Azriel then took his cock in one hand and pumped it a few times, before his other hand went to cup your cheek, gently pulling you closer between his legs.
âGive the tip a few licks, maybe a kiss or some light sucking, and hold the base with your hand and stroke it while doing that.â
He instructed you. Your hand went to hold the base of his cock, lightly squeezing and stroking it in the familiar rhythm. You hesitantly put your mouth to his cock, first your tongue only darting out to give little kitten licks against his slit, and a few kisses. After a moment of figuring this out, you then took the red, leaking head into your mouth, tongue swirling around it as you lightly sucked. It was just like sucking a lollipop, you supposed, as you eagerly suckled on it, cheeks hollowing out, except it was a bit salty and smelled musky.
Azriel groaned at that, hips almost bucking up before he stopped them.
âGood girl,â
He purred, one hand sliding into your hair, and ever so gently tugging you further onto it.
âYour tongue â lick the underside of it.â
He managed to gasp out, breathless as you followed his instructions almost perfectly, tongue flattening and rubbing against the underside of his dick. You simply looked up at him with those bright blue eyes, eager for more instructions, eager to please and satisfy him; to satisfy your mate.
His hand on your hair guided you to move your head forward and backward, gently bobbing as you suckled and licked him. Within no time his words turned to strained groans, especially when he guided one of your hands to tenderly squeeze and play with his balls.
His eyes had gone watery by then, and with a sharp cry, he came in your mouth, and not knowing what to do, you lapped it up with your tongue and swallowed.
You slipped your mouth off of him, and his legs remained open as he tried to work through his orgasm. You crawled up next to him in the bed, settling under the warm blankets, and pulling his body close, nuzzling into him and taking in his scent deeply. It was a mixture of pine and rich earth, delicious to your senses in every way.
When heâd finally recovered enough to speak without ever word coming out a whimper, he turned on his side to you and his arms moved on their own, wrapping around you and pulling you tight against him, one of his wings draping over you. It was as if to cover your naked body so that none could see the beauty that was you other than him.
âDid I do it right?â
You asked, whispering the question into his ear. He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through his chest and your being.
âYou did it perfectly.â
He replied, voice tired but satisfied, the mating bond content enough to let the both of you sleep without any further frenzy activities.
With a sigh of satisfaction, he rested his head against the top of yours, breathing in and smelling the shampoo and conditioner, and all of the haircare products you use. The thought made him smile.
âI love you.â
The shadowsinger said softly. He felt you smile against his skin before speaking just as soft and quiet as him.
âI love you, too.â
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#acotar fandom#acotar fanfiction#writers on tumblr#acotar x reader#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel x rhysâdaughter#azriel comfort#azriel smut#azriel x you#azriel fluff#mating frenzy#sub azriel
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Favorite Foods: Toph
This is the toughest food post I've done yet.
Before Toph began sneaking out of her parents' home, I don't think she enjoyed eating very much. Meals in the Beifong household were a stuffy affair, dictated by innumerable rules of etiquette that Toph found tedious and exhausting. However, I do think she liked having teatime and snacks with her mom, who wasn't as insistent on policing her daughter's manners as Lao was. Other than that, I think most of Toph's positive food memories come from sampling street food in the area around the Earth Rumble arena. Each dish is linked to a recipe, by the way.
Ròu jiÄ mĂł (č多éŚ) literally meaning "meat wedged between bread", is basically a Tang Dynasty hamburger. It's composed of chopped, seasoned meat sandwiched between two slices of flatbread called bĂĄi jĂ mĂł (ç˝ĺéŚ). The servants in Toph's home would make these burgers for themselves from the leftover bread and cuts of meat that the Beifongs didn't eat. Being cheap and greasy commoner's food, Lao (Toph's father) didn't allow her to have it. Of course, it didn't stop her from having a servant sneak one to her. After joining up with the Gaang, she makes a habit of always buying one whenever she smells a stall selling them.
Tang guozi (ĺćĺ) are no-bake cakes meant to be served with tea. They're typically made of bean paste and shaped to resemble flowers and fruits. Poppy and Toph would make these cakes together as a bonding activity. Poppy would would prepare the bean paste and then hand it off to Toph to mold into whatever she pleased... They weren't always cutest creations. Still, from sculpting to eating, the two were always able to enjoy every step of the process.
Poached fruits and boiled nuts were another popular tea snack during the Tang Dynasty. Aside from bringing back warm tea-time memories, Toph also appreciates how simple they are to prepare. It's one of the few dishes Toph can make on her own. Her favorite combination is boiled chestnuts and pears poached with brown sugar.
Gu louzi (ĺ¤ćĽźĺ) was a decadent meat pastry popular among the wealthy, particularly high-ranking military officials, during the Tang Dynasty. Gu louzi was made up of rich layers of lamb meat, cheese, and flatbread. The meat was typically served very rare, both for for its tenderness and to add moisture to the dry flatbread layers. Toph's father would often serve this dish when entertaining generals and other military elites. However, he refused to allow Toph to eat it, believing the heavy ingredients and under cooked meat would upset his "delicate" daughter's stomach. Naturally, Toph would always blow her Earth Rumble prize money on gu louzi every chance she got.
& 6. Youtiao (沚ćĄ) and tanghulu (çłčŤč). Youtiao are Chinese crullers and tanghulu are candied fruits served on sticks. Both these foods were commonly sold at the Earth Rumble arena and quickly became Toph's go-to snacks after a match. Since Toph's household primarily served Tang Dynasty cuisine, the Song Dynasty snacks of youtiao and tanghulu were quite new and exciting to young Toph.
Fun fact: If you want an idea of what Tang Dynasty food tasted like, I would recommend finding a Chinese restaurant that serves Xi'an cuisine. Xi'an was the capital of the Tang Dynasty, when it was known as Chang'an.
Like what Iâm doing? Tips always appreciated, never expected. ^_^
https://ko-fi.com/atlaculture
#earth kingdom#cultural cuisine#avatar#atla#avatar the last airbender#building up#ATLA favorite foods
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afterglow âś jake
đ˘. you didnât realize how much you still needed him, luckily heâs always been yours.
pairs ex!jake x reader content kissing profanity angst fluff self indulgent hooray not proofread wordcount 681 CATALOGUE
well i got lazy to proofread đ thought of jake biting bread while writing this maybe im a little sick
REBLOG if you enjoyed!
you didnât know how you ended up at this situation. sprawled on jakeâs lap as he he held you in place, his hands firmly gripping your waist.
all you could remember was a few hours ago you got a call from jakeâs sister, begging you to check up on jake as he wasnât picking up her calls.
you knew she had been busy lately, packed with work and her engagement she barely had any time to do anything else.
so with a heavy heart, you walk up to the apartment you know all-too-well. up the elevator youâve stepped in countless times, every corner haunting you with memories.
and just as you braced yourself to knock on his door, it clicked open.
jake raised his head, his eyes meeting yours.
ây/n?â
âhiâ your voice was hoarse, you cleared up your throat âmissed me?â
after putting out his trash jake invited you in, his place was dimly lit. it was midnight, you didnât expect any less.
âyour sisterâs worried about youâ you voice out, looking around. not much has changed, the place looked neat, untouched almost. âyou should answer her callsâ you turn to him, his eyes were already on you.
âmy phone brokeâ
âyou should tell her thatâ
the silence engulfed you both. it wasnât uncomfortable, but you grew accustomed to it, trying to avoid him anyway.
you knew he was fine, you could already leave now. his sister didnât ask for anything more than just confirmation that be was alive and well.
âwhyâd you leave?â
you had it coming.
âwhat?â
âit was great between us, i thought we were going to be together for long. i thought you loved meâ
truth be told, you knew you were selfish. you knew the reason you both had broken up was just because you felt like you were going to suffocate him in the future. it was just a lingering feeling inside of you that couldnât have left you alone.
so you made up a dumb excuse just to get it over with. just so he couldnât hurt you before you did.
âi doâ true. âi didâ false. âit wasnât-â
you felt it in motion when the power went out and everything went dark. it was pitch black, and the living room had no windows for sunlight.
out of panic, you yelp when you felt a warm hand slide its way towards your waist, your first thought was to push it.
and that brings us to the top.
you couldnât tell how far jakeâs face was from yours but maybe the warm breath on your lips could give you an idea. your arms were planted on his shoulders as his were on your waist.
âthe powerâs outâ he mumbles
âyeah no shit sherlockâ it was supposed to come out more sarcastic but barely made past a whisper.
jakeâs thumb rubbed smoothing circles on your exposed skin, the warmth from his hand spreading through every corner of your body.
âjakeâ
he hums, his voice low. it reverberated all throughout your body, lingering.
âi still love youâ
and thatâs all that it takes for him to trail his hands up to cup your jaw. his lips moving against yours in a rhythm. his lips were soft, you forgot how much you missed this.
he was passionate, savoring every inch of your lips. the taste of your cherry lip gloss addicting to him.
his other hand raised to the nape of your neck, as yours circled his, tugging at his loose hair.
you both only let go when it was hard to breath. face flushed even it you both couldn't see it, chest heaving.
and you felt like it was a shame that you couldnât see his rose-tinted cheeks and his pink lips. and maybe how blown out his eyes were.
jake only chuckled softly a few seconds later, his head landing on your shoulder.
âi missed youâ he says, mumbling against your clothes, his grip on your waist, tightening.
and maybe at that moment you realized youâd give it all up for him once again.
Š junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.
#𫧠ââ đđ˘đđŹ && đđ¨đŤđ¤đŹ âĄ#enhypen x female reader#enhypen x you#enhypen x reader#enhypen angst#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#sim jake x you#sim jaeyun fluff#sim jake fluff#sim jaeyun x reader#sim jake x reader#sim jake imagines#sim jaeyun x you#jake x you#jake fluff#jake x reader#lee heeseung x you#lee heeseung x reader#park jongseong x reader#park jay x you#park jay x reader#park sunghoon x you#park sunghoon x reader#kim sunoo x you#kim sunoo x reader#yang jungwon x you#yang jungwon x reader#nishimura riki x you#nishimura riki x reader
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CAKE
someone requested dadrry finding out the gender of baby #3 :) please reblog & give feedback!
ââ
Harry pulls into the parking lot of the bakery he used to work at irregularly, the faded burgundy bricks a familiar sight. It hasn't been revamped much from when he was in his mid-twenties and struggling to earn a livable wage by juggling pastry-making, bartending, and training to be a chef. While he's not necessarily fond of those stressful workplace memories, the one that stands out the most is when he saw your pretty face again in the bakery. It was fate at its finest, and the rest is cherished history. He'll always be grateful for this place.
Over five years later, he is back with exhilaration thrumming in his chest. He's older now, his life wildly different than before he met youânow, he has a steadfast romance that keeps getting better, two precious daughters, and another baby on the way, all in a house where the ocean breeze kisses his skin every morning. He never envisioned being lucky enough to live out his dream so profoundly.
Harry steps out of the car, enjoying the subdued sunshine. He spins his key ring around his pointer finger, a smile already lifting his lips as he shoulders the front door open. The scent of baked bread and hints of vanilla greets him, along with the bakery's owner, Doreen, who gives him a cordial wave. She's a short woman in her sixties who has been running the place since before Harry was born. The long grey braid tapering down her back swings back and forth as she wipes the storefront windows with a rag. An apron is tied around her waist, the well-worn fabric dusted with flour and smears of blue frosting. She hasn't changed one bit.
"Hello, dear," Doreen says, briefly pausing her cleaning to kiss his cheek. Even on her tiptoes, Harry has to bend down to close the gap. "I know something you don't!"
He inhales deeply, that warm thrum returning. "You sure do."
She grins mischievously. "It's in the fridge, top left shelf. Help yourself."
Harry walks toward the two-section glass fridge behind the counter. A week ago, you did a blood test that could detect the baby's gender earlier than an ultrasound. At your request to keep it a secret for now, the obstetrician wrote the results down and sealed it in an envelope, which Harry then brought to the bakery and ordered a two-tier vanilla cake with either pink or blue frosting inside. Only the baker would know until it was sliced into by you and him. You both wanted a different type of reveal this time around. Last pregnancy, it was kept a surprise until birth. You're both too excited to wait this time.
"Thank you again for doing this," Harry says, taking the white bakery box with a yellow sticky note that has Styles Family scribbled on it. "If you ever need extra help around here, don't hesitate to give me a call."
"Oh, don't worry about me." Doreen places her hands on her hips, winking at him. "I'm sure you have your hands full at home."
He laughs softly. "I do, but they're wonderful little helpers. I could always bring them in, even if it's just to taste test."
"How old are they now?"
"Four and one. Our oldest is in her first year of preschool."
She shakes her head in disbelief. "Goodness, how time flies. Plus a bun in the oven?"
"She's eleven weeks," he replies, smiling proudly.
"How is she feeling?"
Harry thinks back to when he left this morning, leaving you lying in bed sandwiched by the kids still in their pajamas. "Pretty fatigued, but she knows what to expect by now. She's doing everything she can to stay motivated."
"Well, I was happy to hear the news and so honored to be one of the first ones to know such a special secret," Doreen says, pinching his earlobe affectionately. "I baked my best cake for you. Oh, that reminds me!" She scurries over to a nearby table to retrieve a wrapped plate with an assortment of desserts, no doubt baked by her. "These are for you and your girls."
Harry's heart swells, and he pecks her cheek with gratitude. "We appreciate it so much. And I'm serious: I'll put my old apron back on if you need me to. I still know how to make a mean batch of macarons."
She shoos him away with her cleaning rag. "Go on, you silly boy. Be with your family."
He beams on his way out of the bakery, wanting nothing more.
ââ
Harry arrives back home in the late morning, feeling grateful that it's the weekend. The house is quiet, and he'd bet money that his girls are in the same position he left them an hour ago. Arguably, that's what Sundays are forâcuddles under warm sheets and no obligation to be anywhere else.
The front door snicks shut, and he walks the short distance to the kitchen to set the cake box on the island. His fingers itch to open it and sink a knife into the layer of frosting, but he refrains. The time will come.
Instead, he heads to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light. Sure enough, you're curled up with two little girls tucked into the outline of your body. Harry commits the view to memory before sitting on the edge of the mattress. You stir awake from a light sleep, your eyes opening and finding him. The first-trimester fatigue is obvious, and it's as endearing as it was the first time.
"Morning, lazybones," he says softly.
You yawn, stretching your arms, and the fierce urge to hold you close and never leave this bed rushes through him. "Hi. Did you get the cake?"
"I did." He strokes the bridge of your nose with his knuckle, sensing your lethargy. "Feeling okay?"
"So-so. I was a little queasy earlier."
"Did you eat yet?" he asks, and you shake your head in response. "Want me to make something?"
"I don't have much of an appetite, but I'm sure the girls would love a big breakfast," you say. Harry smiles, taking a moment to admire their innocent faces still deep in sleep. He hopes they're having pleasant dreams.
"Okay. I'll be in the kitchen."
"Wait for me, please." You carefully sit up with a dazed and adorable look in your eyes.
Harry sighs fondly and says, "You need to listen to your body. Don't resist rest."
Pouting, you shed the blanket and swing your legs over the bed, ignoring his sensible advice. "But my body's telling me that it misses you."
"Sweetheart..." He cuts himself off, realizing he has no way to refute that. He knows wholeheartedly because he feels it too. Working full-time and coming home to parent with you leaves little room for quality time together. Consequently, there was never time to squeeze a babymoon in the past four years. He'll have to ponder that idea more in-depth, especially now that your pregnancy is swiftly heading to the halfway mark. Probably smart to plan a trip during that sweet spot, when you're not too physically uncomfortable. He wants to have fun with you, away from the kids. Explore an exotic place and luxuriate in romance with no one around.
"Harry?" you say, pulling him out of his titillating trance. He was just beginning to envisage you naked on a canopy bed in Fiji, the evening sun casting over your dips and curves. Lying there all majestically, waiting for him to feast on you. Paradise personified.
"Sorry, just musing." He clears his throat and thinks of innocent things, like buttermilk pancakes and hash browns.
"Uh-oh," you reply playfully before standing up and leaving him with a tempting view of your bare legs. As you freshen up in the bathroom, Harry leans over his daughters and kisses their heads. They both stir minimally, their disheveled curls rustling against the pillows. He wonders if his genes will ever have mercy in that department when the next baby arrives.
Eventually, you follow Harry into the kitchen, and there's a familiar thrill in having a brief window of alone time before the kids require attention. He smoothly pulls you into his embrace and asks, "How's our baby?"
You look down at your stomach and lift the silk camisole covering it. "Finally making an appearance, I think."
Pulling back slightly, Harry assesses the tiny protrusionâit's much tinier than the last two were around the same eleven-week mark. "Oh, hello there," he murmurs with a winsome smile. The proof of you carrying a child is nearly unnoticeable, at least in a physical sense, but the smallness keeps it a secret from any outsiders. Inside this home, it's his to savor.
You laugh, silently marveling over it with him, then glance at the cake over his shoulder. "We could have cake for breakfast."
Harry pulls you close again and waddles your conjoined bodies forward until your back meets the island. "That depends on if you want to find out now or later. It's up to you."
Looping your arms around his neck, you contemplate for a few seconds before saying, "Let's wait until later tonightâat least until I'm feeling better."
"Absolutely. Maybe we can head down to the beach at sunset with the girls. Have a mini celebration."
You nod. "I'd like that."
"Done deal." The thin strap of your silk camisole slips down your shoulder, and Harry groans when the curve of your breast peeks out. He cups it in his palm, and your body reacts by pressing into him even further. "So, what's your final prediction?" he asks, kissing the tender flesh there and readjusting the strap. Focus, he tells himself. The girls need breakfast.
You make a show of thinking long and hard. "Unforeseen quadruplets? I'd be a medical mystery."
Harry narrows his eyes, suppressing a grin. "Hysterical." He widens his stance until he's the same height as you. "C'mon, give it to me."
"Final prediction is... girl," you say assuredly. That word tugs at his heartstrings, the ones belonging to the instinctive protectiveness he has toward his daughters.
"I'm sticking with boy," he says for the sake of a friendly husband-wife competition.
You quirk your brow and slowly back out of his embrace. "I can't believe you're not trusting my womanly intuition."
"I've guessed correctly the last two times," he reminds you. "Don't underestimate my mojo."
"All right. Best of luck, baby."
ââ
Harry shivers in an overdramatic fashion while holding his youngest daughter, and she giggles, thoroughly entertained. He always enjoys the walk down to the private beach, where the expansive view never ceases to amaze him. At sunset, it's even more phenomenal. The wind carries a coolness to it, and the sky transpires into heavenly hues of lavender, teal, and marigold. No matter the weather, he makes an effort to watch it fade into the night alongside his family.
Tonight is extra special, and as he glances back at you trailing behind with the cake box and two empty champagne glasses in one hand and your eldest's small hand in the other, his excitement intensifies. He was patient all afternoon, even crawling back in bed with you and the girls to bask in a catnap under the warm sheets. Afterward, the laziness continued as you all watched a movie together on the couch and ate takeout. Now it's time for dessert.
Near the shoreline, Harry sets down his youngest and removes the quilted blanket from around his shoulders. He shakes it out and watches her toddle on the sand. She just started walking on her own last month, and he can never be too cautious with her curious nature. There's nothing more bloodcurdling than a child wandering off without a sound.
The girls go off to play with their dolls near the sandcastle they built near the hammock. It's far enough from the waves for them to be semi-unsupervised.
Harry lays the blanket down and sits. You join him, passing over the glasses. He brought a bottle of grape juice as a substitute for wine.
After pouring juice into each glass, Harry hands one over to you and lifts his in the air. "Cheers to growing our beautiful family. Cheers to being happy, healthy, and perpetually sleep-deprived. We make an amazing team, and... I just love you. Inexplicably so." He clinks his glass with yours and takes a hearty sip, never taking his eyes off you.
"Cheers," you say, letting the tart liquid travel down your throat.
Harry rubs his palms together and says, "Ready?"
You give him a smile only he knows the meaning of. "Let's have some cake."
He slides the box over and fingers open the seal. When he lifts the top, you shuffle forward and melt into his side, staying there as he stares at the coating. It's only plain white buttercream frosting with swirly pink and blue dollops caressing the circular edge, but the part that makes him teary-eyed is the cursive icing that reads Baby Styles. Although it's his third and most likely last child, the feeling never gets old. Every newborn experience challenges him in an entirely new way. It's unexpected, enlightening, and emotionally rewarding. And to do it by your side is the greatest accomplishment he'll ever know.
Wiping the corners of his eyes, Harry picks up the knife. You place your hand over his grip on the handle and kiss his bicep. "No peeking," you say, closing your eyes.
Harry does the same and rests his forehead against yours. Slowly, he maneuvers the knife to blindly cut a triangular slice. His heart pounds in anticipation. The bet he made with you doesn't matter anymore. Either outcome, he'll be ecstatic.
"You look first," he whispers, his lips brushing yours with each syllable.
"No, you do it," you whisper back.
"You know, we never discussed what the prize is for whoever guessed correctly," he says, shifting the knife so the slice breaks free.
"I know what I want."
"Yeah?" he murmurs, nudging his nose with yours. "Tell me.â
"I want to go on vacation somewhere far away, just me and you."
"Remember what happened last vacation?" His eyes are still closed, and vivid memories play behind his lids.
"Yes, I do,â you say. âYou got me pregnant, but that was only because there was something in the Italian air."
He laughs and captures your lips in a quick kiss. "Is that the only reason? I seem to recall youâ"
"Daddy, what flavor is the pink stuff?"
Harry's eyes shoot open, and for a split second, he sees that yours are still shut as his head whips toward his eldest daughter skipping over with her favorite doll in tow. His youngest follows her, picking up handfuls of sand along the way.
Brows furrowed, he looks at you again to find you staring at the cake with a dumbstruck expression. He honestly forgot it was there, too caught up in the intimate moment he was sharing with you, where the darkness enhanced the warm sensations of his skin touching yours, the grape scent of your breath, and the way your sensual words sent shivers down his spine.
All that floats away when he sees creamy pink frosting in the middle of the sponge cake. It's a delicate shade of pink similar to the newborn hospital hat they put on his firstborn daughter. Similar to the sunrise the day his second daughter decided to come into the world.
Pink. Another baby girl.
Making a spontaneous choice, Harry pulls his sweater off and sprints full speed toward the ocean, shouting with glee. He hears your shocked guffaw as he tumbles forward into the shallow water. The coldness is a shock to his system, but it doesn't compare to the fact that you're having a girl. He hoped for it deep in his heart. He dreamt it.
You walk over to him, eyes glassy and holding a large forkful of cake. "I was right!"
Harry heaves big breaths, adrenaline rushing through his blood vessels. His sweatpants are soaked, but it's the last thing on his mind. He clumsily reaches you and places his palms on your stomach, kissing it repeatedly. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he says, overwhelmed with emotion. He looks up, his next words intended for you. "You made our dreams come true, baby. And I don't know how to repay you, but Iâll try. I swear it.â
"You've already repaid me, Harry, by being the most devoted and dependable father to our girls."
He smiles, his cheeks hurting. "Three girls now. Holy shit.â
You collapse in his arms, crying and laughing with happiness. He catches you and gently brings you down to the sand. The wind whips around both your bodies, not able to penetrate the heat of this unforgettable moment.
Amidst bites of cake and promises of a couple's vacation to wherever your heart desires, a shout of "It's strawberry-flavored!" carries over, nestling deep in Harryâs heart.
Life couldn't be sweeter.
ââ
#harry styles blurb#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#harry styles fanfic#dad!harry#dadrry#harry styles au#harry styles#adore-laur
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SNAP AND BREAK
SYNOPSIS you piss caleb off by going on a risky mission so he makes you pay. dearly.
WARNINGS caleb x fem!reader, fights, arguments, tension, misunderstandings, secret relationship, pseudo-cest, punishment, unprotected sex, improper use of evol, gagging, cockwarming, restraints, bondage, bdsm scene, size difference, verbal humiliation, pussy job, dirty talk, multiple positions, orgasm edging, orgasm control, orgasm denial, nipple play, marking, biting, forgiveness, aftercare
DAWN SAYS another one for the cfgc <3 caleb punish me challenge mode: extremely hard. also, big thanks to bb vienna for tossing back some ideas and helping me shape up this bad boy â¤ď¸
x / a03
Itâs not often Caleb comes home for the holidays, and when he does, you want to make sure everythingâs perfect for him.Â
Sweat dots your brow, dripping down your neck as you spring around the house like a frantic OTTO-PHO, cleaning every inch of your old home and picking up after any mess left behind. With Gran in elderly care and your childhood friend stuck in Skyhaven, the onus is on you to keep the space spick-and-spanâa duty you sorely neglected due to your erratic mission schedule.Â
Damn it, you scowl, glancing at the clock. Itâs already 9PM⌠Caleb could be home anytime soonâŚ
Huffing, you bring out a box of Christmas lights, completely entangled together in a wiry mess, and you groan at the thought of spending hours trying to get one end loose from the other. Sure, Christmas Eve is a time for families to gather together and enjoy the festivities with merriment, food and one too many glasses of bourbon, but as much as you would love to spend time with Caleb on his rare days back in Linkon, thereâs a lingering thought in the back of your mind, connected right to the Hunterâs watch on your wrist.
As you check through the notifs, you miss the front door clicking open, the soft scuffle of boots on the wooden floor only reaching your distracted ears when the person was a few feet from you. Despite your wicked fast reflexes, Caleb is quicker, caging you in his arms, pulling you tightly to his chest as his boyish laughter grazes your ears.Â
âReally, pipsqueak? Being distracted could cost you some Hunter brownie points.â
âCaleb!â you squeal, whirling around and smacking his chest, your eyes sparkling at the sight of him. âWhen did you get here?! I didnât even hear your bike.â
He releases his grip on your waist, spinning you to face him, taking you in with his warm gaze. You didnât miss the dark circles under his eyes, stress-induced from nights in a world so far above the ground, with secrets you sense he could never tell you.Â
âGuess someone was more distracted than I gave her credit for,â he teases, ignoring your probing gaze.
You tighten your grip on his arm, and pull him closer, scrutinizing him from head to toe. âAnd you look like you havenât slept in days.âÂ
âJeez,â he worms out of your grasp, though his cheery disposition remains unflappable. âAre you trying to steal my thunder? Iâm the one thatâs supposed to be the nagger, not the other way around. And you look like youâre short of a few days of sleep, too, Pips.âÂ
It never surprises you how at ease he makes you feel. Banter and laughter flow freely between Caleb and you, and where words fall short, the silence remains warm and companionable. The scent of food is in the air, and you take a moment to inhale the fragrance of warm bread leaving the pan greedily. Caleb makes your favorite baozi, the sweet dough mingling with the succulent fattiness of the pork belly sandwiched between the two buns melting on your tongue, sending sparks of serotonin straight to the pleasure center of your brain.Â
He watches you eat with a twinkle in his eye. âGood?âÂ
"Heavenly,â you practically moan, and take another bite. You miss his eyes darkening, the quick aversion of his gaze from your blissed-out face.
âMhm. Glad you love it,â he raps the table with his knuckles and stands, focused on the tasks ahead. âWeâll pick up Gran from the care center tomorrow and return home. Can I trust you with the turkey, Pips?âÂ
You nod, dusting your fingers free from crumbs and standing, too. âGot it. Turkey. What about the cupcakes?âÂ
âOh, I can get them delivered. Donât worry,â he reassures with a grin. âWouldnât want Gran to worry about us stuck in Christmas traffic.âÂ
Heâs got a point. When Christmas Eve arrives, the streets of Linkon bustle with throngs of bodies hurrying down the sidewalks, a sense of urgency and excitement in the air. Youâre carrying the turkey back to your bike when a familiar vibration on your wrist pulls your attention from strapping the bird tightly into your rear basket, and your heart falls when you see the fluctuation pattern.Â
Wanderers.Â
Your mind rushes with the implications of what comes next, and in your ear, the ever-present comm beeps, Neroâs voice on the other end briefing Team Alpha.Â
â... interrupt Christmas break⌠urgent deployment to Chansia Cityâteam of explorersâCavesââÂ
It comes in bits and pieces. Youâre struggling to listen while kicking your bike into gear, revving back home to pack for the overnight mission.Â
âNero, slow downâwhich part is overrun?â Jenna demands, her voice crisp from the other end of the line.Â
ââChapel Bay. We need reinforcementsââ
Kicking up dirt in your wake, you zip back home, arriving in time for Caleb to poke his head past the door, his greeting dying on his lips when he sees the tension radiating off you in waves.
âPipsqueak, whatâs wrongâ?â
Thereâs no time to consider softening the blow when an entire neighborhood is at risk of being wiped out by Wanderers.
âI just got a call to go to Chansia. Thereâs been a huge Wanderer attack.â You pry the turkey from your bikeâs rear basket and hand it to him, sprinting back into the house to pack when a tight grip on your wrist stops you.
âSlow down, Pipsqueak,â Caleb urges, his eyes wide with trepidation. âDid you just say Chansia?âÂ
You nod, and something in his expression darkens.
âYou canât go.âÂ
âWhâ?âÂ
Before you can protest, Caleb slams the front door closed, barricading it with his broader build. âPips, that area is certified Wanderer territory after the Profield Fall six months ago. Going there would be signing your death sentence .âÂ
His words ring in your mind, leaving behind a tremor of fear. But, your stubbornness and need to help takes precedence over whatever hesitation you might feel, and you shake your head.
âCaleb, itâs my jobââ
â Y/N, please.âÂ
No Pipsqueak, Pips, or short stack âŚ
Your eyes widen as the realization hits you square in the chest. Caleb is completely serious about this. You take a step back when he corners you against the wall, those amethyst eyes shining with a desperate plea for you to listen to himâjust this once.
âTrust me when I say thisâthe DAA knows whatâs going on there and weâve escalated it to Zone Three status. You could die there, Y/Nââ
âCaleb, I canât just leave my team behind!âÂ
He swallows hard, crossing his arms and in a tone brokering no argument, he utters: âGive me Captain Jennaâs number right now.âÂ
You gape at him, wondering if heâs lost his mind. â Are you trying to get me fired? âÂ
âFamily code for the Hunterâs Association means family members can refuse to allow a Hunter to serveââ
âNow youâre just making things up!âÂ
Your cheeks burn hotly with indignation, eyes narrowing at the sight of his wilful glare. Deep down, Caleb is just worried for you, his overprotective big brother tendencies leaving him resolutely firm on not allowing you to go. But, youâre not a kid anymore, and this is the duty you swore to uphold. Family or not, Caleb has no right to stop you from leaving.
âNo,â you reiterate, standing your ground. âCaleb, this is unacceptable. You canât just dictate when I can do my job just like that!âÂ
âOh, I can and I will.âÂ
You feel a firm tug around your waist, and to your horror, his Evol snatches your phone from deep inside your pants pocket. âHeyâ!â
He holds it above your head, no longer goofing around like he usually does when he teases you like this; expression serious and unyielding. âTell me your phone password now.âÂ
You seethe, wondering if heâs lost his mind. âAbsolutely not!â Palm to his chest, he grunts, feeling the first stirrings of your Resonance piercing through the atoms binding his telekinesis together, goading him to explode. He grabs your wrist with the other hand, a mutinous and unfamiliar glare twisting his mouth into a sneer.
âOh, donât even think about using your Evol on me, little missy.â With a staggering strength you thought he would never use on you, Caleb drags you closer, pressing your thumb on the phoneâs biometric sensor. It lights up and your phone unlocks, leaving him privy to your contacts.
In one swift motion, you kick him right in the bend of his knee, knocking him off balance. Caleb yelps and the turkey you so carefully transported back home goes crashing to the ground along with his knees hitting the carpet. Moving fluidly, you grab his shoulder, restraining his arm behind his back, forcing him to relinquish his grip on your phone where it clatters onto the floor.Â
âPipsââ
You push your knee right in between his shoulder blades, forcing him to the ground.Â
Caleb grunts in pain, but youâre too angry to even care about his discomfort.
âHow dare you come in the way of my job?â You spit out, increasing the force of your knee into his back. âYou have no right, Caleb. None.âÂ
âI was justââ
âWhatâs going on?!âÂ
You both glance up to find Gran staring at you in horror, frozen in her wheelchair. Itâs been years since she saw a fight this bad between you and Calebâthe last one being when you two were angsty teenagers. At the look of dismay on her face, you hesitate and ease up, letting him go. Caleb rises with a derisive scoff, and without a second glance, tosses your phone back to you, remaining indifferent when you fumble to catch it.Â
âFine. But, donât say I didnât warn you. If youâre going through with this, then I have nothing else to say to you.â
He walks away, his head bent, broad shoulders tense with frustration. You watch him disappear back into the kitchen and glance down at the mess of the turkey scattered on the floorâreminding you of the chaos youâve brought to what was supposed to be a day of family and celebration. How you single-handedly ruined Christmas Eve.Â
âGran, Iâmââ
She raises a hand to stop your string of excuses and apologies. âWhatever you need to do, go and do it. Just come back in one piece, dear.âÂ
You glance at the deep set lines of her face, the kindness in her eyes you didnât deserve. âCould you tell himâŚ?â You trail off, and flicker your gaze to the kitchen. Gran nods, imperceptibly understanding your request.Â
âIâll speak to him, donât you worry.âÂ
Taking one last look at her, you nod and hitch the strap of your purse higher, thoughts already racing on the logistics of returning to the Association base and retrieving your hunting gear. As you straddle your bike, you steal a final glance at the kitchen window, wondering if he could see you pulling away. But, the curtains are drawn, and the lights dim.
Feeling the melancholy of separating on such awful terms with him, you kick up the bike stand and zip down the highway to your unknown fate, ready to fight Wanderers despite how much every fiber in your body was screaming at you to turn around and make things right with Caleb.Â
Caleb stares at the phone in his hand. Itâs been three days since he last heard from you; since he last saw you.Â
Heâs gone through the entire cycle of grief the whole time youâve been missing from his side: denial that you had the nerve to hurt him after all heâs done for you, anger at the way you dismissed his concerns and complaints about him mother henning you when all he wants is to ensure your safety; bargaining with the voices in his mind to forgive and forget; a crippling depression at the lack of consideration you had for him by not even bothering to reach out and finally acceptance that come what may, you had to return home.
He wouldnât rest till he sees you againâtill he makes sure youâre safe and whole.
But, when the fourth day trickles by with still no sign or contact from you, anxiety gnaws him right to the bone and he canât focus on anything else but the chirp of his phone, heart pounding wildly and breath hitching as he picks it up, hoping to see the golden notification which will indicate youâre still alive.Â
Heâs disappointed time and time again.Â
Yet, he doesnât switch off his phone or mute it. Caleb reasons if you ever did call him, he would always be on standby to berate you.Â
(And ask you when youâll be coming home again so he can prepare to see you).Â
His heart echoes a dull thud that grows murkier and darker with each growing day of your absence. Till he canât take it anymore and punches in the emergency number you left on the fridge, hearing the dial tone that echoes forlornly in the background of this empty kitchen soaking in the last rays of sunset.
The call doesnât go through, and he tries the other number you left for him.Â
âHello?âÂ
Mercifully, a woman answers and his white-knuckled grip on the phone tightens.Â
âHi,â he stutters and feels like a fool. âMy name is Caleb. Iâm⌠Y/Nâs friend,â clearing his throat, he presses on. âI havenât heard from her in days and Iâm starting to, uh, get worried. Is sheâ?â
He barely gets the question out when the woman interrupts him, not unkindly.Â
âCaleb, isnât it? Youâre her adopted brother. My name is Jenna and Iâm the captain of Team Alpha. Unfortunately, I cannot disclose any further information about our Deepspace Hunters except that they are currently on a very important mission.â
Jennaâs tone is steepled in regret, and Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose. âI know. I know, damn it.â If she finds his cursing crass, she doesnât comment on it. âBut, itâs been four days already. I just need to knowââ
âMr. Caleb, we understand your frustration, but please, do let us handle the mission on our end, and if there are any updatesââ
âYouâd only tell me if she returns in a body bag.âÂ
The transparency of his resigned statement floats uneasily like a greasy film over a thick coating of lies heâs very well accustomed to in the military and law enforcement world. The reality is this: he would never know if you were alive until you came back home.
Caleb thumps his forehead against the frosty kitchen glass, watching the white snowflakes dance in front of him with listless, pained violet eyes. The necklace you gifted him hangs from his neck like a noose, threatening to choke the last of his composure. He struggles to hold onto his temper, as he swallows and nods.
âAlright. Roger that. Thank you, Captain.âÂ
He doesnât give Jenna a chance to reply, ending the call and, in a fit of rage, slams his phone onto the table. His sudden fit of anger doesn't go unobserved, Granâs weary eyes watching him pace restlessly through the kitchen, not noticing her sitting in the dark corner. She wants to comfort him but doesnât know how. After all, it was you who usually took the mantle of calming down this unnerving, determined young man during his rare, but terrifying bouts of rage.Â
Gran sighs quietly and stares up at the ceiling as if she could see past the layers of plaster and unease and into the graying, snowy sky.
Caleb slams the front door on his way out to god knows where. Like always, she remains reticent and disengaged, sitting in the furthest corner where his disconcerting emotions could never reach her.Â
You werenât expecting anyone to wait for you back in your apartment when you finally returned home.Â
Light snow coats the front of your lobby stairs, and the second he sees you, the doorman waves to catch your attention.Â
âOh, Miss Hunter! You have a care package waiting for you in the mail room.âÂ
Curious and weary from your arduous mission, you trudge to the mailroom to retrieve the package under your name. Clasping it in one arm, you drag your tired and bruised body straight to your apartment and push open the door, switching on the lights and air conditioning. The space smells of stale air and an underlying current of tension, greeting you with a lingering melancholy you couldnât quite shake off.Â
You carefully close the door behind you and set the package on your dining table. Glancing out at the twinkling lights of the street below, the feeling of missing out on an important holiday creeps back in, and you fight back the urge to sob.
Nowâs not the timeâŚyour inner voice chimes. You need to eat something⌠shower and rest. Wiping your damp eyes, you take a deep breath. The time to break down and mourn over your guilt can come later.Â
Tearing the package open, your heart skips a beat when you see a bento box filled with dehydrated vegetables, powdered cranberry sauce, dried turkey, and a side of instant mac ânâ cheese. A note, written in a blocky scrawl you recognize as Calebâs, makes the lump of guilt in your throat thicken even more.Â
Merry Christmas, Pipsqueak. We missed you. â C
You boil some water, microwave the food, and rehydrate the greens again, taking your sad pre-packed Christmas meal on the balcony. The food is good, and you have an inkling of Caleb freeze-drying it for youâbegrudgingly making sure you could still enjoy your holiday even after the catastrophic fight you both had.Â
As you chew listlessly on a slice of turkey, you glance up at the sky where you imagine the outline of Skyhaven to be, snowflakes clinging onto the ends of your lashes, falling like powdered sugar onto your bare hands.Â
Caleb⌠your mind echoes forlornly. Did he return to the base? Is he still here in Linkon?Â
One quick look at your Moments feed, and you see heâs still here, catching up with old classmates and grinning brightly in his photos like the two of you hadnât been at each otherâs throats just a few days ago.
The temptation to call him up is at odds with your bruised ego from the smothering behavior he exhibited days earlier. A part of you wants an excuse to see him again despite the growing distance since the argumentâto thank him for the meal he prepared for you.Â
Snowflakes melt in your hair, an unceasing chill creeping up on you. Despite the unusual distance creeping insidiously into your relationship, the chill, the reproachful silenceâthe meal he sent you was more than a peace offering. It was his version of an apology.Â
Your mind floats a million miles away, thinking about Caleb, wondering if he is still mad at you. You heave a sigh. As much as you dread it, thereâs only one way to find out.Â
Pulling out your phone, you click on his number. The dial tone drones on and on, plucking on your nerves, and you reflexively nibble on your nails, waiting for him to pick up.
âHello! â You expel a rushed breath, an apology on the tip of your tongue when youâre hit with the realization that youâve reached his voicemail box instead. ââprobably busy. Please leave a message after the beepââ
Silence. You catch a staggering breath. âCaleb? Itâs me. If you get this, letâs meet up, âkay? Talk to you soon.âÂ
Thereâs a hum in the night air, a tension drawing lines around your taut figure. You wait and wait for his return call, glancing at your phone every minute, checking on your messages in case he left one when your back was turned. The warm shower you took could barely flush out the thought of Caleb, your anxiety peaking when you decide to check on Moments, seeing him post a picture of his dinner with his friends, but leaving your message on read.
Crap. Youâre in deep trouble now. Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair, rubbing your face.
There isnât a hint of doubt that heâs punishing you now with the silent treatment. Caleb is never the type to avoid confrontationsâhe thrives on them. He loves arguing, challenging your worldview, and trying to prove his point, just to rub it in your face that he will always be right.Â
The indifference is odd; this distance is not like him.
Before you can stop yourself from calling him again, you slip on your coat, tug on your scarf, and rush to your bike.Â
Iâm going to make him talk to me if itâs the last thing I do, you think viciously, revving up the bike aggressivelyâkicking up snow and dirt in your wake to break this frostiness between you two. Â
In fifteen minutes, you find yourself in front of your childhood home, the kitchen lights glowing warmly. Gran is probably already back at the elderly care center, and since Caleb is still treating you as public enemy #1, heâs staying here to keep his distance from you. You kill the engine and march straight up to the door, unlocking it with your spare key.
Inside the house is warm and toasty, the faint smell of food drifting from the kitchen. You freeze when the sound of heavy footsteps reaches your ears, looking straight into his wide, amethyst eyes.
Caleb exhales a sharp breath, his mouth dropping open slightly. âPipsqueakâŚâÂ
You remain nailed to the spot, wondering if he would kick you outâask you to leave for daring to show your face here again. But, he does no such thing, beckoning you to close the door and come in. Though he doesnât outright reject you, he doesnât welcome you with open arms, either, the usual exuberance and grins he reserves for you nowhere to be found on his unsettlingly serious expression.Â
Caleb goes back into the kitchen, picking up a towel to wipe down his hands. The paper plane bracelet you got for him years ago peeks past the sleeve of his gray hoodie, a reminder of happier times between you two.Â
You hesitate for a single second by the doorway, wondering when the thought of home left you this cold and disorientated.Â
Like a lost puppy, you trail after him, removing your jacket and setting it on the back of a dining chair.
âThank you⌠for the meal,â your hoarse voice breaks the icy silence.Â
Caleb glances at you from behind the kitchen island and nods. âYouâre welcome.âÂ
He doesnât say anything else, and the easy familiarity from years of knowing each other fades into a glacial stillness. You hear your breath leaving your lips, and sense the way heâs avoiding your eyes.
âCalebââ
He scoffs at the sound of his name leaving your lips, and turns around, putting all his focus on the bread heâs baking. You know him well enough to understand he only bakes when heâs completely stressed out over something.
Without thinking, you touch his wrist, not anticipating the sharp way he draws his hand back from you.
âCalebâŚâÂ
He doesnât glance at youâbarely gives your pain a second glance. âWhatâre you doing here, Pipsqueak?â He murmurs gruffly. âArenât you supposed to be writing a debrief report right now?âÂ
As much as his distance stings, his dismissal hurts even worse, feeling like a knife carving through your chest.Â
âItâs Christmas season,â you whisper. âThe offices are closedââ
âAnd yet, risky missions still prevail, huh?âÂ
His words bite straight to your core, and you wince. âCaleb, itâs notââ
âSave it,â your childhood friend cuts you off, jerking his chin towards the dining table. âSit down there and donât disturb me. Iâm making sourdough focaccia and if something goes wrong, I will 100% blame you.â
Despite the warning in his tone, you canât help but smile faintly.
âOkayâŚâ
Taking a seat at the table, you watch him work. The sleeves of his hoodie stretch tautly over his bulging biceps, rolling up to expose his forearms as he works the dough into a malleable ball. The silence is something new, a phenomenon born from the supernova of your hasty mistakes, leaving gaping black holes of awkwardness surrounding the two of you. Any light coming through from your attempts to make conversation is shut down with a dismissive hum or grunt from Caleb.Â
You can tell heâs avoiding any attempts to talk, focusing on making the bread and ignoring your presence in the corner of his eye. The childish part of you that grew up with his undivided attention screams, tearing and twisting in your chest, needing to reclaim his interest and care again. You pout, sulk, and heave numerous heavy sighs. But, he doesnât turn to look at you, much too busy focusing on brushing basil oil onto the bubbling surface of the dough.Â
So, you amp up the distractions. You circle closer and closer to him, pressing your face near his shoulder to watch him decorate the dough with slivers of cherry tomatoes. You linger when he turns to grab the container of sea salt flakes, playfully sticking your finger into the concoction to pop a bubble forming.
âOkay, thatâs itââÂ
He grabs your wrist and tugs you back into the living room, making you sit on the couch with a scowl on his face. The look of pure wrath in his expression startles you, and you barely have time to murmur an apology when he shakes his head, glare intensifying.Â
âStay out of my hair, Pipsqueak. I mean it. âÂ
âButââ
He whirls around, silencing you with a deep and unmistakable glint of rage in his usually gentle purple eyes. You fall into a stuttering disquiet, unable to stop the hurt from flashing across your face.
âCalebââ
âDonât give me that look. And stay away from the kitchen.â Stay away from me. He doesnât say it, but the warning is implicit.Â
Youâve never seen him this enraged before. Your breath falls out in a huff, and you give him an incredulous look. Caleb turns around, completely ignoring you, and returns to his focaccia. A voice in your head chimes in, telling you to just own up to your mistakes and apologize to him. But, the stubborn part of your consciousness, the one who insists sheâs right despite how poorly she had treated one of her oldest childhood friends, remains stubbornly set on not breaking the ice first.
Easier said than done.Â
Itâs hard.Â
Itâs hard for you to sit on the couch, quiet and seething when Caleb is just a few feet away. Itâs absolute torture to not be in there with him, yapping off his ear with updates to your mission, or trying to sneak eat a few cherry tomatoes when his back is turned. You miss him, and you miss his shitty jokes and dopey smile. You miss him.Â
You find yourself sneaking glances at him, wondering if heâs making an extra batch for youâhoping he isnât too mad to deny you from having a focaccia slice. You know youâre being selfish and immature again, thinking he will be okay with you after the stunt you pulled on him when the reality of his dejection runs deeper.
Shamelessly, you stand and venture back into the kitchen, unlike a stray kitten who could never take a hint. You stand by his side, hovering around until he pays you a morsel of attentionâgifting you back his sunny smiles and easygoing laughter.
But, Caleb remains steadfast in his efforts to ignore you, and you decide itâs time to bring out the big guns. Pressing closer to him, you lean your head against his shoulder, nuzzling your cheek into the soft material of his hoodie.
âGege⌠donât be mad at meâŚâ Â
He stiffens, and yet, you persist with your efforts. Playfully nipping the back of his ear, you find his weakness in an instant, hearing his breath catch in the back of his throat.
Caleb pretends you donât exist, letting you fight for his attention, but you can tell his resolve is crumbling. You hear the hitch in his quiet groan when you lick the sensitive shell of his ear, the heat of your body seeping past the thick fabric of his hoodie.
Gran isnât here, and you donât have to hide your desires from her, free to mess around with Caleb as much as you can.Â
You stand on your tiptoes, tracing the tip of your tongue down the curve of his neck, scraping your teeth against his sensitive skin.
Caleb hisses, and you fight back the urge to grin in triumph. His hands grip the marble islandâs edge with a white-knuckle hold. You feel his resolution to ignore you falling apart, piece by piece, simmering in the knowledge of you offering yourself to him as a way of apologizing for the things you saidâhow you hurt him both physically and emotionally before your mission.Â
âIâm sorry⌠Iâm sorry, gege,â you murmur against the salt of his skin, feeling his body heat under your touch. âCan you ever forgive me? Can you ever forgive your mei mei? â
He bites back a groan, narrowing his eyes.Â
âYouâre playing a dangerous game, PipsqueakâŚâ he hisses under his breath.Â
The way he says it, full of anger and warning, sends a sick, dark thrill up your spine. You resist the urge to lay off him, needing him to fully crack and give in to your whims like he always doesâlike he always will when it comes to you because youâre nothing if not Calebâs spoiled rotten mei mei who always gets what she wants.
âPipsqueakââ his words cut off into a low growl when he feels your arms belting around his waist, your hands sliding further down⌠fingertips teasingly brushing the bulge tenting under his pants. âWatch it.â
But, his warning lacks bite, and you gnaw on your lower lip, feeling his patience slowly dissipating. Caleb is once again putty in your hands, easy to mold to your desires. You grin against his back, feeling the same revulsive knot twisting in your stomach, the stench of the impending perverseness making your nostrils flare.Â
â Gege⌠â you whisper again.Â
Itâs the final nail to the coffin of his attempts to resist you. Except when he snaps, he does it in a way you never expect.Â
Caleb grabs your hand and spins you around, pinning you right to the counter edge. Without a secondâs hesitation, he drags your pants down, baring your vulnerable backside. The stinging pain of his hit on your left cheek draws you up short, and you cry out, cursing profusely.Â
âMy, my,â you can hear the grin in his dark tone. âSuch a mouth you have on yourself, mei mei ⌠you need to be reprimanded.âÂ
Another sharp spank lands on your right cheek this time, and your head jerks up, a yelp slipping past your clenched teeth.
âC-Calebââ
âDonât you dare Caleb me,â he sneers and drags you like youâre a ragdoll to the bedroomâhis bedroom. Inside, youâre faced with gegeâs full wrath, as he stands before you, tall and imposing, those amethyst eyes barely wavering when he takes in your warm cheeks and the glimmer of pain simmering in your gaze.
âStrip,â Caleb commands, lifting a dark brow. â Now .âÂ
You want to argue, to tell him to ease up, but the look on his face remains flinty and firm.Â
Swallowing your trepidation, you start by pulling your shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Calebâs expression doesnât shift, not even when his eyes rake over the lace bra youâre wearing. His jaw tightens, and he gestures at your pants, silently telling you to go all in if you want to earn his forgiveness back.Â
You reluctantly tuck your thumbs into the waistband of your pants and drag them down, leaving you shivering in your matching lacy panties.
He scoffs, running his eyes up and down your scantily-clad form. âYou sure you werenât thinking indecent thoughts, you shameless minx? Good girls donât try to seduce their older brothers by looking like this.â
You flush warmly at his degrading words, feeling your bravado slipping. âI-I wasnâtââ
Your words die in the back of your throat when you feel the restrictive force of his Evol grasping your wrists, drawing them above your head. Calebâs expression and outstretched hand don't falter, and he takes another step closer, bearing down on your helplessness.
âBe quiet,â he snaps. Flicking his fingers, he pushes you against the wall, hearing the gust of breath rushing out your lungs when your back hits the hard plaster. You grunt in surprise, struggling and failing to fight your way out of the bonds he has your wrists in.Â
âScared?â He goads, approaching you, taking your chin, and tilting your face up. The look in his eyes is borderline terrifyingâyouâve never seen Caleb ( your sweet, lovely, kind, and sunny Caleb )âlook this angry in your life. âThis is what you wanted, right?â Grabbing your wrists in one large palm, he tightens his grip on you. âTeasing me⌠hurting me⌠you have a knack for breaking your gegeâs heart, huh, Pipsqueak?âÂ
You shake your head, wanting to protest when he silences you with a punishing kiss. Caleb bites down on your lower lip, your words and coherence lost in the slurry mess of his tongue fighting yours, tasting the warmth and wetness of your mouth.Â
âMhm,â you moan into the kiss, tilting your head to the side to get moreâtaste more of him. He runs the tip of his tongue over the hard ridges of your teeth, squeezing your cheeks in a possessive hold, forcing your mouth to remain open and giving as he continues to take what he wants without a care for your pathetic whines.
âDonât think Iâll go nice on you, Y/N,â he warns, tipping your head back, his lips brushing the sensitive shell of your ear. âYou treated me like dirt before you left. You hurt my feelingsââ He growls, biting down hard on your earlobe. âYou selfish, bratty little Pipsqueak⌠I wonât go easy on you, do you hear me? Nod if you understand.â
You canât do anything but nod, helpless in the face of his anger. The corners of his mouth twitch at the sight of your submission, the dark monster within he tries hard to suppress rearing its jealous head, beckoning him to devour you. With a surprising show of dominance, he tangles his fingers in your hair, yanking your head back with a grunt, exposing more of your throat to his wandering lips.
He licks, nips, and sucks his marks onto the pristine column of your throat, needing to see his marks bloom on your skin. Caleb is relentless in his attempts to remind you who you belong to.
The force of his touch sends sparks of thrill up your spine, and you gasp with every hot press of his open-mouth kisses to your vulnerable jaw and neck.
Calebâs teeth scrapes your sensitive skin, drawing guttural gasps from your kiss-swollen lips.
âCa-lebââ you break off into a hiss when his Evol rearranges your limbs, spreading your thighs wider; your arms restrained above your head. The last time he had you in this position was a summer ago before he left for a mission to Vagrant Land. You swore after that night when he was done with you, that you had to double your Plan B dosage less your body betrayed you and you conceived his baby.Â
âPleaseââÂ
He doesnât hear your begging, taking a step closer, his bigger build pressing harder into your body.Â
âI said: Shut. Up. â
In one swift motion, his telekinesis holds your lips shut, your struggles and indignant squeals barely triggering a reaction from him. The look on his face sparks both terror and desire, your body responding to his unexpected dominance; proof of your arousal shining from between your thighs.
âAlready wet? How patheticâŚâÂ
He smirks, coating his fingers with the proof of your desire pooling right between your folds.Â
âMhmphâCwalebââ your desperate squeak shoots his ego straight up to the moon, and Caleb is on cloud nine.Â
Such a desperate, little Pipsqueak. You want this so badly, huh? Mhm hmm. Thatâs right. Thatâs fucking right. You like my fingers in you? Good girl. Such a good, little Pipsqueak. Youâre doing so wellâfuck.
His anger aside, Caleb canât help but praise you. Itâs his default; his DNA. You drive him insane and he wants to punish you for getting under his skinâwhere youâll always belong, not if he can help it.
âSomething you wanna say, Pips?â he sneers, pumping two long, lithe, and callused fingers inside of you, catching on a spot that makes your toes curl.Â
âS-swoâŚsworry,â you manage to spit past the pressure clamping your mouth shut, tears swimming in your eyes, âCwaleb⌠mhm .â
He canât say he doesnât enjoy your struggle. The flush on your cheeks, the wetness glimmering on your lips. Caleb wants to see you completely and utterly ruined for him.Â
âBeg,â he commands, slipping into his Captain persona with ease. In his eyes, you were nothing but an unruly cadet in need of a stern fixing. âBeg me and I might give you what you want.â
Thumb on your clit, heâs driving you delirious with feathery, teasing circles. Your eyes roll back into your head.Â
Cwaleb, you groan against his Evol. Pweaseâmhmph!
The pressure of his fingers gets meaner, the look in his violet eyes muffling the last of your protests. Giving up on trying to get him to relent, you submit with feeble sighs, letting him take full control. Caleb grins, feeling you succumbing to his ministrations, your squeaks and sighs growing louder and more distraught.Â
He loves having you like thisâon the edge, overstimulated, and completely relying on him.
Years of knowing your body and what makes you tick is enough for him to push your buttonsâtaking your limits past the breaking point.
Heâs meticulous and sure with his punishment, doing whatever it takes to hammer in the anger and shame he wants you to feelâthe lesson heâs trying to impart to your desperate body and distraught mind.
As he releases the pressure on your mouth so you can moan and gasp freely, Calebâs quick with a foot of rope, using it to bind your hands in your front, allowing you just enough give to grip a pen in your shaky hand as he makes you sit on his cock and write âI will always obey my gegeâ over and over again until your eyes swim, and your cunt is pulsing from every slight movement.Â
He teases you with shallow thrusts, lips in the crook of your neck, and warm, large palms covering your heaving breasts; playing with your distended nipples till they blossom into a pretty blush shade.Â
Driving you further into a pleasure-filled delirium, he rubs your clit with teasing circles, smacking your thighs when they start to snap close.
âI saidâkeep 'emâ open unless you know whatâs good for ya, princess,â he sneers, leaving another stinging mark blooming on the plush flesh.Â
âPleaseâŚâ The plea drops from your swollen lips and he chuckles.Â
âStruggling already?âÂ
Caleb peers over your shoulder at your almost illegible writing and shakes his head. âI thought you were better than thisâdidnât you once win the best handwriting award in high school? Tch.âÂ
To your mortification and horror, he picks up the sheet of paper and tears it in half, ruining your hour-long effort of completing a hundred lines.
âAgain,â he orders, and grabs a blank sheet, placing it in front of you. âAnd make sure your writing is pretty Pipsqueak. I wanna frame this.â
A strangled whimper tumbles from your mouth, and behind you, Caleb smirks at the sheer frustration at the sound.
Good.
Now, you would understand a sliver of the anguish he felt when you went missing for days. Now, you would feel the exasperation and outrage he didâand god, does it feelgood to watch you come undone for him.Â
You pick up the pen, and with a teary, little huff, start to write again. He hooks his chin over your shoulder, breath warm and distracting against your neck.Â
âAtta girl,â he murmurs, chest rumbling with deep satisfaction. âLook atâcha. Doing so well⌠I oughta reward you after this, hmm?âÂ
He teasingly trails his palm up your thigh, squeezing your fleshâenjoying how your pretty, tight pussy squeezes down on him with every rasp of his palm on your skin. The sight between your thighs is lewd, a creamy mess coating the base of his cock, dribbles of arousal gathering at the lips of your entrance which ripples around his thick girth. Caleb is equal parts mesmerized and thrilled by the sight, watching how your little clit shivers when he teases her with the rough pad of his index finger; how your body shudders, and the pen in your hand shakes.
âMuch better,â he compliments your penmanship, giving your clit and nipple a squeeze.Â
âAhâ mhm! â You choke through your tears. This minute reaction costs you a firm smack on your thigh, his fingernails digging into the singing flesh.Â
âDid I say you could take your eyes off the paper?â Caleb demands, and in a low tone, barks out, â Write .â
Tears mist your vision, your hips twitching and muscles tightening around the fleshy intrusion lodged deeply in your tender pussy. Caleb wraps his hands around your waist and gingerly lifts you up and down, fucking you on his cock as the words on the paper get blurrer and blurrer.
I will always obey gege.
I will always obey gege.Â
I will alwaysâ
The words get subconsciously stuck in your head, your lips shaping and breathing them out in shaky puffs. Black strokes of your obedience begin to fill up half of the page, and soon the whole sheet is covered with the affirmation. Caleb presses his lips to your jaw, giving you a much softer kiss, catching you off guard with his gentleness.
âThere you go⌠lookinâ good, darlinâ.âÂ
He takes the paper from you and scrutinizes each word, well aware of your body trembling; your sweet, tight cunt squeezing pitifully around his cock. Youâve made such a mess on his lap, Caleb is surprised how the powerful orgasm youâve been holding back for the past two hours hasnât taken you under yet. It seems like one single touch and you might blow.
He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back, and sets your work down, gripping your hip tighter.
âGood girl,â he croons in your ear. Those maliciously thick and long fingers slide up the length of your thigh, reaching to wrap around your neck.
âI did what you asked,â you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and moaning at the sensation of his lips kissing down your throat. âA-am I forgiven yet?âÂ
Hmm, Caleb hums, his smirking mouth pressing on your pulse point. He loves how despite your lofty title as Linkonâs shining Hunter, youâre still so much smaller than him; your entire body dwarfed between his bigger build and the hard edge of the table. â... suppose I could show you some mercy.âÂ
He traces random patterns on your thigh and a sliver of hope takes root in your heart. Maybe youâve done enough to fully earn his trust and love back. Maybe he might be merciful and kiss youâ
As if you weighed next to nothing, Calebâs strong arms carry you back to bed, setting you down on his lap again. He buries his nose in your hair and inhales like a starved man tasting honey for the first time, his tongue darting out to trace the jut of your jaw, trailing down your throat.
âYouâre so sweet⌠so sinfulâŚâ
His grave murmurs send sparks of desire straight to your core, and you clench your thighs, whimpering.
âCalebâŚâÂ
Your whisper is a fleeting plea of desire that disappears under his smothering kiss. Caleb devours your mouth, swirling his tongue with yours, his fingers holding your chin in place. Hungry, open-mouth kisses smear down your neck, right to your collarbone, where the ghost of his breath on your perky nipples makes you shudder.
He takes his time, playing with you while youâre all tied up and helpless. Caleb grins against your sternum, hearing your breath hitch when he parts your thighs and sinks a finger inside you with barely any prep. Your body takes him without resistance, and he nuzzles your bare breasts, relishing how soft your skin is against his cheek.
âYouâre so eager⌠so ready for meâŚâ
His dick throbs, but he pays it no mind, completely zeroing in on your pleasure. Calebâs entire focus is on youâyour whimpers, your sighs, how your poor, puffy pussy clenches down so nicely on his thick fingers.
Youâre just ready to burst, darlinâ ... he murmurs huskily into your ear. Must be frustrating, hmm? Not being given the chance to come⌠Iâm sure youâre achingâŚ
His thumb circles on your greasy, little nub, hearing your soft moans and sighs in his hair. Caleb guides you to the bed, your bound body falling in a heap under him. He positions himself over you, forearms on either side of your head as he goes back to licking and sucking at your neck.Â
The sting of his teeth leaving another bite leaves you light-headed with lust, your body throbbing for the slightest bit of relief.
Please⌠you whimper again, trying your luck. Caleb⌠I need youâŚ
Yeah? He murmurs huskily. Whereâdya need me, princess?Â
You squirm, moving your hips and he feels you writhing underneath him. âInside. All the way.â
His breathing hitches, blood growing hotter at the desperation and need in your tone.Â
âAll the way? You know what to say to get a man going, sweetness.â
âIâ ohhh .â
Your words die in the back of your throat at what he does next.Â
Caleb grins as he pushes your thighs apart, settling in between them. He carelessly tugs his pants down, ripping off his clothes to toss them to the floor, gifting you inches and inches of bare, tanned skin and defined muscles to gawk at. Ready, baby? Giving his cock a few good pumps, he lines the tip to your entrance, catching it on the rim of your pussy.Â
Teasingly, he works the flush, sticky head up and down your weeping clit, circling your opening, pushing it in past the tight ring of muscle with taunting âpopsâ. Your gasps reach his ears, and he grins, enjoying drawing out your pleasure far too much.
Like that? He licks his lips, eyes half-hooded and heated. Itâs all going in you, baby⌠just⌠at my⌠pace.
He punctuates each languid word with a few more inches sinking inside of you, coaxing more sweet sounds from your slack jaw.
Oh, yes⌠yes⌠fuck me, Caleb. Fuckâoooh. Â
Your drawn-out hiss springs a wicked smile to his face. The way your eyes roll back; how your hips twitch.Â
Spasming wildly, your sweet pussy draws him in, and Caleb canât get enough of you. Itâs excruciating how much heâs edging himself as much as heâs torturing you. But, the moment he bottoms out inside of you, all the tension condenses right to the point where youâre connected to him.Â
Caleb sets a rhythm that leaves you gasping, legs wrapping instinctively around his fitted waist. His biceps and abs ripple with every thrust, those pesky lips you love too much finding the hollow of your throat, leaving behind his claim on your delicate skin for the world to see. His mouth presses to yours in a heated display of ownership, tongue delving past your lips to dominate yours.Â
His tasteâmusk, salt, manâcoats your tastebuds, and youâre swimming in his heat and scent.Â
Caleb is everywhere and anywhere over you, all at once.Â
His bigger build completely dwarfs you on the bed, expert hands pushing your thighs apart and pressing your knees to your chest, leaving you flushed and completely vulnerable to him.
He laughs when your clit trembles under his scrutiny, the little bud exposed with nowhere to hide.Â
Zeroing in on your tender bundle of nerves, he presses his thumb to it, feeling the greasy little button twitch under his fingertip.Â
You look so pretty like this⌠all tied up and vulnerable⌠just for me.Â
âCalebâŚâ your moans begin to stutter, your hips beginning to spasm. Youâre so close, all it takes is one misstep on his end to lead you down the biggest orgasm of your life.
Hours of teasing and drawing out your pleasure renders you an incoherent, babbling mess.Â
Faster, faster⌠oh god, please. Yesyesyes. CalebâCalebâŚÂ
Anyone passing by the room could tell you were barely holding on by a thread. You look so beautiful under him like this: hair fanning across his pillows, cheeks warm and lips flushed. The glassy look in your eyes.
God, heâs so in love with you.Â
Having you here, under him where you belong, heals the fissured part inside of him that still aches from your cruel dismissal of his concerns.
His thrusts grow more punishing, the tip of his long, girthy cock hitting your cervix. Caleb tilts your pelvis, making you take him deeper.
There ya go, sweet thing, he coaxes. Can you feel me hereâ? He touches your womb. Feel me where ya need me. Oh, darlinâ... Iâm gonna make sure you feel me for days.
Picking up his pace, the bed creaks and rocks under you. Caleb makes sure to tease your clit as well with every punishing thrust, feeling your thighs tremble around his shoulders.Â
Heâs so deep, so flushed against your body, he thinks you could suck him up and take him in your body forever.
Caleb is hard-pressed to admit he doesnât want thatâthere is nothing in the world he desires more than to be one with your bones and breath. His movements get erratic, needing to bring you to the edge and back.
He can tell youâre close.Â
The look on your face, the warmth in your cheeks. Youâre holding back and he couldnât be any more prouder.
âWhat do you want, princess?â He asks, eyes soft with affection.
You struggle to put your desires into words, completely wrecked at the end of his cock.Â
âI⌠mhmâ close⌠â
He feels your muscles squeezing down on him, and chuckles breathlessly.
âYeah? I can tell, princess. You want to cumâyou need to cum, huh?âÂ
You give a teary, little nod that tugs on his heartstrings. But, Caleb isnât done with youânot by a long shot.
He grins and without warning, switches the position, putting you on top of him. When you falter and almost fall face-first into his chest, the familiar stirrings of energy hold you upright, his Evol keeping you centered and balanced on his cock.
âRide me,â he whispers huskily. âShow me how much you want thisâprove to me how badly you want to cum.âÂ
The challenge in his tone drives you dizzy with lust. Licking your lips, you murmur a whimper which makes his grin stretch wider, and shift your hips, testing the give of his Evol.
Sturdy and sure, his grip on you doesnât falter, and you quickly find a rhythm that makes his eyelids flutter shut. A groan slips from Calebâs lips, his pretty purple eyes prying open to drink at the sight of you riding him feverishly.
Arduous and urgent, you move your hips like a pro. Calebâs sure heâs never seen you this determinedâthe look in your eyes searing through him.
The sight of his dog tag and the apple charm you gave him years ago shining silver from his neck catches your eye, a stark contrast to his tanned and flushed skin.Â
God⌠youâre killing meâŚ
Caleb smirks at your breathless words. I do? Glad to know, princessâŚ
His large palm collides against your plush ass, watching the flesh jiggle with each precise spank. Your sharp inhales and whines spur him on as he takes his frustrations out on your pert ass, venting the fear and anger he felt when you left him behind for that torturous week onto your willing body.Â
Try to leave me again. His nostrils flare, eyes dark with promise. And Iâll make sure youâll never have any use for your legs, you hear me, Pips
Possessive and passionate, he tangles his fingers in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the vulnerable skin of your neck. His Evol loosens its grip, and you go falling into his arms, his lips practically devouring your neck with heated kisses and nips.
You gasp when he works in another mark over one he just made a few minutes ago, the stinging bite of pain enough to get you fluttering all over his cock.Â
â Mhm⌠â you groan. Youâre lost to the sensations, drunk off the high heâs giving you.
Caleb is no better. Heâs almost cross-eyed from the pleasure, drunkenly leaving marks on your jaw and collarbone.Â
Sloppy. Languid. Caleb fucks you like heâs got all the time in the world.
He runs his hands down your back, over your sides, fondling your sore and stinging ass. Moving underneath you like a strong wave, he slowly rolls his hips up against you, pulling you closer onto his lap.Â
âYouâre so good⌠taking everything so well⌠my perfect pipsqueakâŚâ
Calebâs moans and praises get lost in the crook of your neck. He uses his free hand to grip and squeeze your breast, drawing your turgid nipples into his mouth one by one; his other hand continues to spank and grope your ass.
Itâs too muchâall too soon.
Youâre on the edge and he still hasnât permitted you to come. The need to be good is at war with your primal instincts to give in to the pleasure, your gasps and moans are a desperate symphony to his heated ears.
His thrusts get more erratic, the wet sounds of your bodies joining together bouncing off the walls. The windows of his bedroom start to fog up, the bed creaking maddeningly with every thrust.
âCaleb,â you gasp, feeling the familiar tension coiling in your lower belly. âOh⌠oh⌠â
He hears the note of panic in your tone and chuckles gravelly. Dark hair in a disarray, amethyst eyes shining with mischief. Caleb is the picture of ravaged underneath you, and thereâs little doubt youâre in a much worse state above him.Â
Licking his puffy lips, Caleb shakes his head, abs undulating from the release heâs also trying to hold back.Â
âUh-uh-uh, princess,â he taunts, voice dropping an octave lower. âNot yetâŚâ
You clench your jaw and squeeze your eyes shut in despair. He grins, lips moving back to your neck, murmuring against the salt of your skin.
âI love seeing you like this⌠hearing you gasp and whimper⌠feeling you writhe so desperately above meâŚâ
Caleb⌠you whisper his name like a prayer, one you hope he grants.
âYeah, princess? Say my name⌠I love it when you say my name.â
âCaleb⌠oh⌠Caleb⌠â
He nuzzles your neck in an unexpected gesture of adoration, feeling how tense your body is.Â
âYouâre so close, hmm?â He murmurs, unlike how a pet owner tries to soothe a fretting kitten. âI know you are, Pips. I can feel ya. So close⌠oh⌠and yet so⌠far .âÂ
At the last second, before you succumb to your pleasure, Calebâs Evol lifts you off his cock, the sudden, gaping loss ripping the earth-shattering orgasm right from under your trembling body.Â
No! You cry out in a thick voice, and you swear real tears spring in your eyes. No⌠no⌠pleaseâŚ!
Begging him shamelessly. Thatâs what you were reduced to.Â
Caleb chuckles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He loosens his grip on you and guides you back onto his cock. You hiss from the intrusion, eyes rolling back in your head. Nothing but a puppet to her Masterâs strings; Caleb is firmly in control.
He manipulates your body to his own pace, using his Evol to fuck you on top of his cock like youâre a lifeless doll, made only for his pleasure.
âOh⌠oh⌠y-you assââ
Caleb laughs, cutting off your tirade by gripping your hips tighter.Â
âDonâtcha love it, princess? Donât lie to meâyou adore it when I tease ya. Make you work for my lovinâ,â he mutters hotly into your neck. âYou can deny it all ya one, Pips, but I know what you want⌠I know what you want deep, deep downâŚâ
As he drawls out âdeepâ, his Evol loosens, making you slide down his cock until you bottom out.Â
â Ngh! â You cry out, the tears in your eyes dripping down your cheeks. Caleb clicks his tongue and wipes the proof of your frustration away with his calloused thumb.Â
âNo need to cry, Pips. I gotcha. Gegeâs got ya, donât he?âÂ
You struggle to reply, the last of your coherent thoughts scrambled by his cock working you back to the edge again.Â
Caleb⌠Caleb⌠you cry out, his name a mantra, a chant that grounds you as his cock continues to fuck you up.Â
It seems like forever passes by when he brings you to the edge, abandons all motion, and does it again until youâre practically sobbing from the overstimulation. Caleb is a mastermind of your own bodyâhe knows just how to get you trembling from the onslaught of pleasure without ever letting you fall over.
The torturous cycle starts and ends the same: with your begging and whining doing nothing to move him.
âPleaseâŚâ you finally gasp, hanging your head, strands of your hair tickling his chin. âIâm sorry, Caleb. Iâm so sorryâŚâ Fighting back the lump in your throat, your shiny eyes beg him to show you some mercy. âIâm sorry I hurt you⌠s-sorry Iâ ah⌠mhmmm⌠treated you like shit⌠Iâm so sorryââ
Caleb sweeps you into his arms, his Evol completely releasing its grip on you. âThatâs all I wanted to hear⌠all I neededâŚâ
He registers how youâre choking up and rubs gentle circles on your back. âHeyâssh. Ssh. Apology accepted, Pipsqueak. Donât cry, okay⌠come hereâŚâ Gripping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his, he gives you a soft smile. âYou did so well⌠Iâm so proud of you, hey? You wanna come, sweetness?âÂ
Without a shred of stubbornness left, you eagerly nod. He chuckles, and positions you back on his cock, purple eyes glistening with the pure adoration he has for you.Â
âAlrightâcome on, baby⌠ride me good this time, okay? And donât hold backâyou deserve this⌠deserve all this for being such a good, little girlââ
It doesn't take long for you to get to the edge, hours of suppressing your release make you needy and very sensitive.
Come⌠come for me⌠he encourages you, rubbing your clit, pinching your nipplesâdoing everything in his power to get you to lose control.
The tension in your belly snowballs to something beyond your control, and you tilt your head back, expelling a long, drawn-out moan.Â
In the ropes and under his cruel yet tender ministrations, you find the courage to fall apartâhis name rebounding across the room like a screamed cry of relief. Caleb feels you shuddering all around him and gives in to his baser need to fill you up, grunting low and deep into the crook of your neck as ribbons of warmth coat your walls.
Drops of white dribble to stain your inner thighs and his lap, but neither of you cares.
Undoing the rope and relinquishing his Evolâs hold on you, Caleb catches you in his arms, burying his nose into your hair, soothed by your delicate scent.
The afterglow settles like a haze, enveloping your body like a warm, fluffy blanket.
Caleb traces patterns on your bare back, pressing soft kisses to your temple and cheek. He breathes in your light scent, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.
âYou alive, Pips?âÂ
Nodding, your eyes flutter close, the comfort found in the crook of his body intoxicatingly cozy. Your heartbeat starts to slow, lulled by the gentleness of his breathing. His pulse steadies under your cheek, his arms tightening around you, pressing you closer to his chest.
âYou did so good, princessâŚâ he murmurs, stroking your head. âSo proud of youâIâm so proud of my little PipsqueakâŚâ
His praise hits your system like a shot of red wine, warming you up from the inside out. Flushed from his gentle words, you eagerly rub your face against his throat, his boyish chuckles easing the guilt still swimming in your soul.Â
âCaleb?â He looks down at you, taken by your small voice.
âYes, Pips?âÂ
âAm I⌠forgiven?âÂ
He nods without a beat of hesitation. âYou sure are. Thereâs nothing for you to be sorry about anymore, okay? Letâs put this behind us and start fresh, princess. Howâs that sound?âÂ
Relieved, you nod, and the love you feel for him intensifies, radiating brightly from deep within.Â
One thing youâve learned about wounded hearts is this: with Calebâs smile, everything can be healed.
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