#hello neighbour au music

[mintyaquagreen1675]

Hello Neighbor x Phineas and Ferb, not a bad idea! Also pretty nostalgic

[cherryredlove]

☆ you spin me right round ☆

Modern! Record shop owner! au Aemond Targaryen x Bar owner! reader SMUT

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You're the blooming business owner that owns the chic new bar in town, The Alchemist's Guild. All that's left to do is befriend your sourpuss neighbour, the cool owner of the music shop Targaryen Tracks. Maybe a crisis will do the trick?

Word Count: 1.9k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, rough oral smex, pearl necklace, sex in semi-public place

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Owning a bar was always a dream of yours, and now that dream has finally come true. The place you purchased is a hidden gem on the artsy quarter of the city of King's Landing, nestled between eclectic shops and quirky businesses, with just enough foot traffic to guarantee interest. You’ve christened it The Alchemist’s Guild, and you hoped it'll become the hottest bar in the area soon.

Every bottle and glass has been carefully selected, and you’ve spent countless hours transforming the run-down space into a chic, cosy haven for anyone seeking to unwind. Edison bulbs hang from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the polished wooden surfaces and plush seating. The shelves behind the bar are stocked with an impressive array of gins and wines, and the scent of fresh herbs and citrus fills the air.

The only hurdle now? Making friends with the neighbours, particularly the one who runs the music shop next door, Targaryen Tracks.

You’ve seen him a few times, Aemond Targaryen, always dressed impeccably in black, with silver hair and an ever-present scowl etched onto his face. His shop is a world of its own, filled with vintage records and obscure music that you occasionally hear through the walls.

Today, after a couple of good days of business, you decide it’s time to introduce yourself properly. Maybe you can even convince him to partner up for some musical collaborations, adding a unique touch to your bar’s atmosphere. With a deep breath, you step into Targaryen Tracks, the door chiming softly as you enter.

Aemond looks up from behind the counter, his single blue eye meeting yours with a curious, almost guarded expression. He nods in acknowledgement, though his lips barely form a smile.

"Hi, I’m Y/N," you say, offering a friendly smile. "I just opened the bar next door, The Alchemist’s Guild. Thought I’d come by and say hello."

"Aemond," he replies curtly, giving you a once-over before returning his gaze to the record he’s examining.

The shop is a paradise for any music lover, with rows upon rows of records neatly organized by genre and era. The atmosphere is nostalgic, and you can’t help but feel a pang of admiration for the meticulous care he’s put into curating his collection. You too take great pride in organisation and decoration.

You take a moment to look around, pretending to browse. The silence stretches between you, and you rack your brain for something to say, anything to break the ice.

"You’ve got quite the collection here," you venture, picking up a random record and pretending to study it. "I’ve been thinking about hosting some vinyl nights at the bar. You know, set up a record player, get some more out there stuff playing."

Aemond’s eye flickers with mild interest as he raises an eyebrow. "That so?"

You nod eagerly, hoping to engage him further. "Yeah! I think it’d be great to have something a bit more unique than just playlists. It’s a vibe, you know?"

He studies you for a moment, considering your words. "I suppose it could work," he admits, a hint of intrigue in his tone. "What kind of records are you looking to play?"

"Honestly, I’m open to anything that sets the right mood," you reply with enthusiasm. "Jazz, blues, rock, maybe even some classical if it fits."

Aemond nods, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I might have a few recommendations."

A spark of hope flickers inside you. Perhaps this sourpuss neighbor of yours isn’t as aloof as he seems. Maybe there's a chance for some collaboration after all.

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Business at The Alchemist’s Guild is booming. You’ve managed to create a buzz around town, and the place is packed almost every night. The combination of exquisite drinks and the cosy atmosphere has made your bar a go-to spot for many locals and visitors alike. It's become a favourite with the artsy scene in the quarter, putting you firmly on the map.

But tonight, as you’re hosting bustling Saturday evening, disaster strikes. The trusty sound system crackles and dies with a sad whimper. Panic sets in as you realize that without music, the bar loses a significant part of its charm.

As the clamor of conversation fills the air, you frantically fiddle with the cables and speakers, hoping for a miracle. But nothing works.

Just when you're about to lose hope, an idea strikes.

"Hold down the fort for me, Dyana!" You call out to the bartender you employed.

You dash out of the bar and head straight to Targaryen Tracks, where Aemond is about to close up for the night.

Aemond looks up at you as you barge into the shop, mildly surprised to see you so flustered.

"Aemond, I need a huge favour," you blurt out, trying to catch your breath. "My sound system just broke down, and I have a packed bar with no music. Can you help me out?"

He pauses. "What do you need?"

"Your records," you say quickly, hope rising in your chest. "And your record player and speakers. Just for tonight. I’ll give you free drinks for a week in return."

He narrows his eye, contemplating the offer. After a moment, he nods. "Fine. But you handle the equipment with care."

Relief floods through you. "Thank you, thank you so much! I promise I'll be careful. You can even handle changing the records if that's better. "

Together, you gather a selection of records, and Aemond helps you carry them over to the bar. With his expertise, you set up the record player, and soon, the rich, warm tones of vinyl fill the space, transforming the atmosphere instantly.

The patrons love it, and you can feel the tension leaving your shoulders as the night goes on smoothly. True to your word, you offer Aemond a drink on the house as a gesture of gratitude. He graciously accepts your Greyjoy Gin and tonic with a small smile.

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As the night draws to a close, the last of your customers finally trickle out, leaving the bar empty save for you and Aemond. The soft glow of the Edison bulbs casts a cosy light over the room, and the record player softly spins its last tune.

"Thank you again," you say, leaning against the bar, feeling the exhaustion of the night catching up to you. "You really saved me tonight."

Aemond shrugs, a faint smirk on his lips. "It was interesting. Your patrons seem to appreciate good music."

You laugh softly, nodding in agreement. "I owe you. Seriously, free drinks for a week."

He takes a sip of his drink, regarding you with an appraising gaze. "Maybe we can make this a regular thing. Vinyl nights, as you said. I can curate the music."

"That would be amazing," you reply, feeling your heart race a little. "I think it’d be a hit."

As you tidy up the bar, Aemond helps, and the two of you chat more easily than before. You discover that beneath his stoic exterior, he has a genuine passion for music and a dry sense of humour that you find surprisingly charming.

With the bar finally clean and ready for the next day, you both take a moment to relax, leaning against the counter again.

As the last record winds down to silence, an unexpected tension fills the air. The kind that lingers between two people until someone is brave enough to try.

It’s Aemond who makes the first move. His eye locks onto yours, and you see a flicker of something you hadn't quite noticed before. You feel your body light up.

Before you know it, he’s closing the distance between you, his presence commanding and electric. He pauses, giving you a moment to stop him if you wish, but you find yourself drawn in by the intensity of his gaze.

And then his lips are on yours, firm and insistent, sending a jolt down your spine. You kiss him back, matching his fervour with your own.

Aemond’s hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck, grasping at his hair. His mouth is hot and heady, and you moan into his as his hips grind against yours.

You barely notice as you’re backed against the bar, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of the kiss. Aemond’s hands are exploring now, tracing a path down your sides, and you let out a soft sigh of approval, urging him on.

The kiss deepens, his touch is confident, and you can feel the hardness of his cock against your tender pussy. Your body reacts, arching into him to relieve your aching sex.

Aemond unzips your trousers, moaning at how wet you are, before gliding his fingers into your soaked heat. You cling to him, mewling, and bit down hard onto his neck. Aemond’s long fingers move inside you, fingering you with a beckoning motion. His eye rolls back as you grasp his cock in your hand, massaging through his trousers.

Aemond hoists you up onto the bar's counter, kissing you roughly before kneeling, facing your soaked pussy. Your hands grip his hair, urging him onto your heat. His tongue flicks out to lick your juices, and the moan you let out spurs him to bury his face.

His long nose is shoved against your clit, rubbing you in the mot perfect way as his tongue laps you expertly. Your thighs squeeze his head tightly. One of his hands grips your soft thigh hard, the other resumes its ministrations inside your tight pussy, making you choke and feel the hot lick of pleasure push you higher and higher. You grind against his face, Aemond sucking your clit with suchbvigour that you cry out, cumming hard on him. You cream against his tongue, and he laps it all up with a deep moan.

Once your head has stopped swimming at the pleasure of your high, you wobble down and fall to your knees. His thick cock sits right in front of your face, and he slowly parts your lips with the red cockhead. It's huge, you run out of mouth room pretty quickly as his hands grip your hair. You moan, the vibration making his hips stutter, and begin to suck him hard.

"Your lips look so beautiful wrapped arouud me baby," he rasps out. "I'll cum if you carry on."

Enthused, you bob your head faster, hollowing out your cheeks and rubbing your tongue right against the slit of his tip. When you fondle his balls with your hands and swallow hard, Aemond releases a strangled cry of pleasure, face-fucking you hard and fast. He lets out an unintelligible moan as he cums. Some of it leaks down your throat, but he pulls out to cum all over your face and neck. You gasp at the hot white ropes of cum that decorate your collar bone.

Panting, he helps you up, swiping his cum off with a finger and parting your lips for you to swallow it. He kisses you gently, salty and sweet.

"Want to come back to mine?" He asks, eye glinting. You nod eagerly, kissing him sweetly. His hands hold you firmly, and you thank the Gods for your sound system breaking.

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AN: save me modern aemond targaryen save me! love writing that so gimme ur feedback and send any requests! if u like this sort of stuff check out my masterlist!

[slut4evanpeters]

High By The Beach

Kit Walker X Fem!Reader (Modern Au)

song i recommend listening to: high by the beach by lana del rey

warnings: drug use (marijuana), sexual content (p i v, fingering, semi public sex), love, ben harmon mention (I WILL ALWAYS BE A BEN HARMON HATER.)

word count: 3.1k

note: guys oh my god. ive literally NEVER had this much motivation to write before and i am literally so thankful for all the kind comments ive been receiving on this fics!!😭 like i genuinely have been writing more fics for yall nonstop since i posted the tate one but please SEND REQUESTS IN!! I REALLY WOULD LOVE TO HEAR WHAT YOU GUYS WANNA READ!! i love you all omg

MDNI 18+

Kit loves alot of things, music, weed, studying, books, adventures, but theres nothing more he loves than you and the beach. That together? Well thats Kits ideal day together.

“You ready, sweet girl?” asks Kit as he zips up the backpack filled with all of the need beach necessities. Kit admires the way you look while adding the last details of youre make up. He thinks youre the most beautiful girl to walk this earth and often finds himself wondering what he did to have such a angelic girl as his girl.

You sit up from your vanity and pick up your body mist “Uh-huh, Kit.” you say as you spray yourself on your wrists, neck and knees. You walk up to kit and press a sweet kiss on his pale soft skin, leaving a imprint of your lips from your cherry red stained lips. You grab your purse making sure you have your little make up bag for touch ups, pre rolled joints, lighter and your phone. Kit stares at you in awe watches how you can do the simplest things but look so fucking beautiful.

You open the door of you and Kits 5 story studio apartment holding it open as Kit walks out and quickly interlocks his arm with yours. You guys walk to the elevator down the hall and Kit reaches out to the large “L” button stating you want to go to lobby. “M’ so excited!” you say impatiently as you wait for the elevator to come to your floor.

Kit looks down at you and cups your face with his free hand and pushes the little strands of hair out off your face. “Me too baby, i cant wait to lay on the beach in the sun with you.” he says softly as he pulls his hand away from you as the elevator has came to your floor. The doors slide open revealing your neighbour, Mr Harmon. Mr. Harmon has been there since before you and Kit moved in. from what you have encountered, hes a okay man. He could definitely be nicer at times as you guys often received noise complaints from your late night activities.

“Hi Mr. Harmon! Good afternoon!” you wave nicely at him as he exits while you both enter.

“Hello Mr and Mrs Walker.” Mr. Harmon replies bluntly. 

Kit grips you waist from the side as you both stand in the elevator waiting for the door to slide closed. “I wonder what he does all the time, he needs to get laid. No one with that attitude is getting pussy” you whisper to Kit, He laughs “i agree, i know that man just sits and stares at the wall all day. No wonder his wife left him.” Kit says with a smile plastered on his face as you guys both laugh.

The elevator comes to a halt and the doors slowly slide open. Kit and you link arms again as you guys walk too the exit of the apartment. Kit opens the door for you “ladies first, my girl” he says with a quick grin plastered on his face. 

You walk out of the apartment with armin trailing behind you. From afar Kit unlocks his red convertible allowing you to get in first. You practically jog to the vehicle out of excitement and Kit just looks and laughs sweetly.  He looks at you with a marveling gaze as you hop in and start taking the roof down. If he could look at you all day he would and would never get bored of it.

Kit walks over to the drivers side and sits in the car. You look over at him with a smile on your face as he puts the keys in the car and starts the car. The way his brown curls lay neatly on his forehead. Making his big chestnut eyes stand out. He just looks so so so handsome to you. He notices your gaze and grabs your chin and brings your lips to meet his. You cup his face caressing his soft cheek with your thumb. You melt into the kiss so sweetly. Kit pulls away “sorry darling, we have to get going now” he says with a teasing tone in his voice. “Yay! I cant wait please lets gow now!” you say excitedly dragging on the “e” in please. He giggles at your excitement and thinks how beautiful you look when your happy. He just hates when ever your sad, he always does the most for you to be happy so he can feel a sense of peace knowing he doesnt have to worry about his girl being sad.

As he starts driving you reach over and grab his phone out from his pocket. “I call AUX” you say loudly as the wind blowing causes all sound to be dampened. He looks at you and smiles “we practically have the same music taste love, what difference does it make” he says with a small giggle. You unlock his phone and go to your guys shared spotify and press the playlist labeld “Y/N” with a bow emoji. You scroll through all the songs deciding which one to choose. One song catches your eye. “Kit, baby, this is gonna be us in half an hour” you say with a shit eatting grin on your face. He looks at you in confusion but immediately understands as he hears the opening of ‘High by the beach’ by Lana Del Ray. “clever one, Y/N” he says with sarcasm coating his voice. 

You enjoy the breeze blowing through your hair as you and Kit ride down the highway. You decide to start the high earlier and reach in your black hand bag and grab one of the pre rolls as well as your neon pink lighter decorated in stickers. You stick the joint between your lips and cup your hand around the lighter to block out the wind. You drop the lighter on your lap and take the first drag and immediately feel the burning sensation in the back of your throat. You look at Kit admiring him while taking hits from the joint as he looks so handsome when hes driving. “Your so handsome, Kit” you blurt out feeling the overwhelming euphoric sensation already hitting you. “Thank you, suga', your such a sweetheart” he says calmly as he places a hand on your thigh and stars caressing with his thumb “thats what i love ‘bout you, such a sweet soul” he says, eyes staying focused on the road. 

Soon later you guys arrive at the beach.

Kit and you exit the car, you with your purse in hand and him with the back pack. Kit grabs your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours as you walk down the path leading to the beach from the parking lot.

As your walking you notice armin taking you a whole different way to where you thought were going. “Where are we going, babe” you question, your voice speaking slowly as the effects of the joint are coming through. “m’ going to take you too a very beautiful spot, just trust me, hun'.” Kit speaks softly while guiding you through crowds of people.

After about 10 minutes of walking you soon reach a spot secluded from all the people and surrounded by the beauty of nature. Just a cross the broad body of water in front of you was rows and rows of mountains and the sun glistening in the water reflecting on to them making the sight ten times more magnificent. “Oh my goodness, Kit, this is so beautiful” you say in awe of the sight just in front of you. Kit comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. “Well, a beautiful sight for a beautiful girl.” he says with a big smile on his face lucky to have you. 

Kit lets go of you and takes off the back pack kneeling down to reach in and grab, a speaker, a couple blankets, two towels, and sunscreen. He stands up laying the towels down onto the sand giving a place for seating. He looks over at you and sees that you are already taking off your (his) baggy tee to reveal your bikini top. Kit adores the way you look, he worships you. The way your hair lays softly on your shoulders, the way your short jean shorts reveal the curve of your hips that he loved just so much, the way you moved, they way you spoke, everything. Kit was obsessed with you. 

Kit watched as you un buttoned your jean shorts and pulled them down revealing the bikini bottoms that practically covered nothing. His eyes followed every movement that you made. 

“Hey darlin’, can you hand me the speaker, love?” you said which suddenly pulled him out of his trance “Hm? Oh, yeah sorry” he muttered being pulled out of his trance, 

slightly embarrassed that he had been caught staring. “Thank you Kit.” you say with a smile as he hands you the speaker. You grab your phone from your purse connecting the speaker. You look through your playlist deciding which song to play. Ultimately you decide on “Stumblin' in" by Chris Norman and Suzi Quatro. You turn off your phone and set it back in your purse. You look back at Kit and see hes already in his swim trunks laying on the blankets he had just set down. “kit, baby, wanna smoke?” you question looking at him ‘damn hes so sexy’ you think to yourself. “Mmh, sure” he says sitting up. You reach into your purse bringing out the lighter and pre rolls. You both pick out your joint and light them. You lay your head in armins lap and he looks down at you. He slowly caresses you soft skin thats already slightly warm from the sun. He has a smile on his face, that delicate, beautiful smile. As you two finnish your joint, an idea comes to mind “hey kit....” you say with a mischievous smile on your face. He looks at you. “Want to go skinny dipping?”

Now here you both are, naked, in the beach water, having the funnest fucking time together. Kit never thought he would do something like this before. He usually would leave this kind of stuff in his fantasies, but today something was different. Definitely the weed

Kit and you leave the water hand in hand and go to your spot and wrap in towels. You both sit and look at the beautiful sight in front of you, as dusk approaches the sun is starting to set causing a beautiful pink haze on the water. You turn your head over to look at Kit, his cheeks all ready developing a red tint due too his fair skin. “Hey” you cup his rosy soft cheek, “just you Kit’, just you, youre the only person im going to do this with. The only person i want to do this with.” you give him words of assurance. He puts his forehead against yours and rests his hand on your waist. “Youre the only person i want to do this with too, Y/N” he says with a smile. Next think you feel is Kits soft plump lips against yours, with the sounds of birds chirping and waves crashing, everything was so perfect. The kiss was rough but sweet, fast but slow, it was just right. 

As the kiss got more heated you climbed on his lap feeling his hard on grind against your pussy. 

Now, usually in this position you would be in control, but thats not what Kit had in mind today. You felt your heart beating faster and faster as he kissed along your neck and began to press wet kisses to your collar bone. Your breath hitched in your throat, moving to rest your hands on his chest.

“Awh my poor needy needy girl, just another slut, hm'” as soon as the words left his mouth you felt your cunt grow wetter and wetter. "is that all you are, suga'?"

Kit continued leaving hickeys and love bites along your neck moving from side to side. Due to all the joints youve smoked, your senses have doubled and you feel every single trail of kisses Kit gives like hes putting out matches out on your skin. As he continues worshipping your body you feel his fingers graze against your waist moving down slowly to your ass gripping it leaving half moon shapes in your skin. His trail of kisses reach down to your chest. He starts to suck on your nipples while making sure to pay equal attention to the other one by pinching and twisting it.

“mm', please” you whined rolling your hips looking for some thing to help the pulsing feeling in your heat.

He has barely touched you yet and you already feel the arousal between your legs more than ever before. “Please what, pretty girl?” he says releasing your chest with a pop and looking up at you with a sly grin. 

You let out a whimper griinfing down on too his tip “please kit’, please touch me” as you take and place his hand on your clit. The way you held eye contach with Kit as had his tip practically throbbing to near point of exploding. 

“Awh, sweet girl, you want my fingers?”  Kit coo’d into your ear as he started rubbing soft circles on your clit, chin rested on your shoulder. He couldnt bring himself to some petty comment about how greedy you were because him himself was equally as greedy for you.

"Yes." You spoke breathily, your voice quivering slightly as his fingers teased your tight hole. "Yes, please oh fuck." Your thought was interrupted as he plunged two fingers into you, impatient and just wanting to feel your tight cunt take his fingers.

Kit's fingers worked quickly. He just wanted to watch you come undone on top of him, watch the way your body would shake as you rode out your high on his fingers. He felt so good inside you, his fingers pumping in and out of you and curling slightly to find that spot inside of you that has your toes curling. Kit knows he hits it when you cry out and bury your face into his neck, whimpering and biting his shoulder with every pump.

Your legs begin to shake around him and your hips start to meet his fingers as you chase your high. Kit attaches his lips back to your neck, leaving a mark at the base of your neck and running his tongue over the appearing bruise. He moves to your breast, rolling your nipple gently between his teeth and flicking his tongue over the tip as his fingers continued to pump in and out of your dripping hole.

"Y'gonna cum for me?" he spoke. His thick Boston accent turning you on even more. He licks up your neck before bringing his lips to yours. He wanted to feel you moan against him as you came and he swallowed each whimper and breath he gave to you.

You nodded, your head rolled back and your eyebrows knitted together. He brought his free hand to your clit, rubbing circles in unison with the curling of his fingers as he began to use his entire arm to pump in and out of you. Your thighs began to quiver beside him and you let out a lengthy moan.

"Gonna cum. Kit, m'gonna cum." Your voice came out strained and the bottom of your feet felt hot as you climbed violently towards your release. Kit drank your words, mumbling back to you as he continued his pace on your pussy.

"Yeah? Cum for me baby. Please, cum all over my fingers." It was one more circle of his fingers around your clit before you were coming undone on top of him, a string of cus words leaving your mouth.

"Fuck, there it is." Kit spoke, his voice gentle and encouraging. "Give me one more, suga'"

He kept his lips close to yours, as he sped his hands up and continued pumping into you well past your high.

The overstimulation had you digging your nails into his shoulders, and your entire body convulsed as your sensitive body was quickly brought back into another breath taking orgasm. You cried out his name, your body collapsing against his shoulder as you panted against him.

"Holy shit." You spoke, exhaling another shaky breath as you came down from your high. Kit gave a low chuckle, pulling his fingers from you and slipping them past his lips, tasting your arousal on his tongue. He took your chin gently between his pointer finger and thumb, lifting it to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You both fell back onto the towel, appreciating the nature of the mountains and the trees surrounding the both of you. You look over at Kit and see hes already staring back at you.

"Y/N, darlin'?" he says with a grin plastered on his face, his dimples peeking on his cheeks.

"yes, baby?"

"I love you" he says as he grabs your cheeks and pulls you into a passionate kiss filled with love, igniting a fire between the both of you.

You pull back and press your forehead against his, looking into his beautiful eyes, a sparkle shining in them. "I love you too kit."

You both collapsed onto the towel, the cool breeze brushing your skin as the towering mountains and the whispering trees cocooned you in their peaceful embrace. The sky above was painted in soft hues of pink and gold as the sun dipped behind the peaks, casting long shadows across the landscape. The scent of pine mixed with the earthy aroma of the ground beneath you, amplifying the moment’s serenity.

You glanced over at Kit, only to find him already gazing at you, his eyes soft yet intense. His smile was warm, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his dimples deepened on his cheeks.

“Y/N, darlin’?” he drawled, his voice a mix of tenderness and playfulness.

“Yes, baby?” you replied, your heart swelling in your chest.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice a gentle caress. His hands cupped your cheeks, his touch soft but sure as he pulled you in for a kiss. Slow and tender at first, then deepening with passion. His lips ignited a warmth within you, a fire that seemed to spread between the two of you, filling the space with an electric charge.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, you pressed your forehead against his, the world around you fading as you got lost in his gaze. His eyes sparkled with a light that mirrored the flickering stars that had begun to dot the twilight sky.

“I love you too, Kit,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, sealing the moment between the two of you.

btw!! this is not proofread i am so sorry for any mistakes!!

[kquil]

SIRIUS BLACK | HIS FAVOURITE NEIGHBOUR PART 2

SUM. : the rest of the marauders finally meet you and get to taste your famous cookies, they even invite you to their next gig.

G. : rockstar au ; modern au ; muggle au ; neighbours au ; rockstar sirius ; rockstar marauders ; neighbour reader ; reader bakes cookies ; sirius being a flirt ; you're invited ; cookies are much appreciated ; sirius can't keep his hands off you

LENGTH : 0.9k

PART ONE

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

The knock at the door almost went unnoticed but Sirius had developed an acute hearing for when his neighbours wanted to complain. He ignored them most of the time and pretended that he couldn’t hear them over his guitar but when he knew that he was on thin ice, he made an effort to sharpen his hearing. That same sharpness developed on different grounds for you, however. 

As soon as Sirius heard your knock at the door, he knew immediately that it was you and abruptly stopped everyone in the middle of practice. The marauders stopped their playing to cast him a look of confusion, completely missing your almost muted knocks at the door. 

“Sorry lads,” Sirius uttered, making his way to the door and smiling brightly upon seeing you there with a tray of chunky chocolate chip cookies, “(Y/N)!” Sirius greets cheerfully, stepping aside so you could enter his abode as the other marauders stand to attention, excited to officially meet you. 

“Hello Sirius, sorry to interrupt,” you bashfully apologise, your confidence at the door slowly disappearing the longer you were inside his apartment. You had made short trips to give Sirius a tray of cookies many times before but never with his friends over and their added presence was getting to you more than you thought it was going to. 

“Not at all, so what have you got for me today, love?” he asks, leading you into the living room with his hand on the small of your back, the rest of the boys slowly coming into view with their instruments beside them. 

Smiling, you raise the tray in your hands slightly, “It’s your favourite, you can share with your friends too,” you take a short moment to flash each of the three other men a timid smile, “as thanks for playing such good music in the background,” they laugh and happily accept your offering, which immediately begins to ease your nerves. While everyone took a moment to indulge in one of your cookies, Sirius introduces you to the rest of his bandmates one by one. 

The one with unruly dark locks and cute glasses was James, the drummer. The tallest one with mousy brown hair and soft brown eyes was Remus, the bassist. And lastly, the blonde one with a little more pudge in his cheeks was Peter, the one on the keyboard. 

“Pleasure to meet you all, I’m (Y/N),”

“Oh we know,” James sings as he licks crumbs off his lips, his statement making you raise a curious brow. 

“Sirius won’t stop raving about you,” Remus adds with a mischievous smirk as you giggle, a heat flourishing over your cheeks. 

“Sod off, Moony,” came Sirius’s flippant retort. 

“These cookies taste great by the way,” Peter gushes, already reaching for another one, “what’s your recipe?”

“I can’t tell you that,” you playfully pout, “or else I wouldn’t have an excuse to come over,” your comment makes Sirius laugh with his head thrown back in delight.

“You see me often enough as is,” Sirius nudges your side teasingly.

“Who said I wanted to see you? After meeting him, I want to see more of Remus,” 

The brunette laughed aloud, sending you a wink and smirking at your playfulness as Sirius pouted beside you. He pulls you in by the waist and leans down, his forehead almost pressing against yours as his grey eyes melt your jokey stare, “you don’t mean that, do you?”

He was being a tease but there was an obvious hint of flirtation in his words that made the three other marauders in the room share a smirk, especially when they see how flustered you become from Sirius’s actions. 

“Stop it,” you move your face to the side in embarrassment and bashfully push him away by his shoulders but it was no use since the grip of his hands firmly lingered on your waist, “Sirius!” the man in question bites his lip to suppress a large grin. He loves hearing you say his name, especially when you whine the way you do. 

“Alright lovebirds, break it up,” Remus finally breaks you two apart, shooting a sympathetic smile your way; he knows better than anyone how prodigious Sirius’s presence can be, especially up close, “we still have to practise for our gig next week,”

This makes you smile, “A gig?” you turn to Sirius who nods, eyes softening at your obvious excitement for them. 

“Yeah,” he pulls you to his side by the waist again and presses a kiss into your temple, “do you want to come and see us play?”

“Yes please!” you chirp already bouncing on the balls of your feet from excitement. 

“We’ll save you a table with Lily then!” James announces, “She’ll be coming to see us too,” 

“Lily is James’s girl,” Sirius explains in a whisper when you tilt your head in question at the new name. 

“Perfect! Your music already sounds amazing,” you gush, putting a smile on all of their faces, “so I can’t wait to finally see the visuals of the performance too!” This gets Sirius’s attention. He maintains the smirk on his lips when leading you back out with your empty tray in hand and after you had said your goodbyes to the boys. 

“When we perform,” Sirius begins, taking your hand as you step outside, stopping you and turning your attention back to him, “only be looking at me, okay, doll?” his other hand grips the door frame and he’s suddenly a towering silhouette rather than a gentleman at your side. 

“O-okay,” you stutter with your heart, voice squeaking and face hot. 

“Attagirl,” he winks and kisses your hand, never breaking eye contact before stepping back into his apartment. 

You can’t wait until next week…  

A/N : here's a small continuation of one of your favourite timestamps, my lovelies, i'll see if i can make more part 2s for my other popular time stamps as well. i have also taken the liberty of tagging additional people who have shown interest in the first part of this, i hope that's alright.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins ; @astonishment ; @until-i-found-you ; @goodoldfashionedluvergirl ; @tiensmamains ; @neeezza101 ; @raevyng ; @prongsio ; @its-sappho-biotch

NAVI.

[bunnyreaper]

wc - 4.6k

warnings - 18+/nsfw (eventually), age gap (older male younger female), bodyguard!au, threat of violence.

notes - another visit to dilfville, a new series, because that's all we need, right? lol. hope you enjoy ♥

Friday nights meant one thing: unwinding after a long week of working in your home office, braving the outside world, and heading to the comfy flat belonging to your friend Jules.

While visiting her place was always a blast, Friday nights were for DnD. Leaving behind Earth for its fantasy counterpart and getting lost in the adventures of your group's merry band of do-gooders. 

Saturdays are usually spent drinking coffee, frequenting markets, and then rounding the night off with cocktails and dancing. (And Sunday's recuperating from being up on your feet all night, spending the day in bed reading whatever trashy romance novel is next on your reading list.) 

Your weekends are your sanctuary—your freedom from routine and work is your refuge. 

You dance around your bedroom, rocking your hips to the music as you pull on your clothes—a white blouse and black bustier to channel the vibes of your character Elora. 

When the doorbell rings, it's entirely unexpected. Anyone close to you knows you're just a few minutes away from heading out for the night—maybe it's a neighbour, you suppose to yourself as you head to the door. 

On the other side of your flat's door is an incredibly handsome man. Broad framed, ruggedly good-looking yet with a finely pressed white shirt and dress trousers. His features are striking, strong eyes and a brow slashed with a scar, stubble all over, and a neatly trimmed mohawk that strangely suits him. All in all, a sight for fucking sore eyes, standing so confidently and casually in your doorway like he belongs.

You hate how your eyes linger on his form far longer than they probably should, but the handsome stranger is just so enthralling.

"Hello?" You mumble, a little absent-mindedly, as you try to gather thoughts that aren't just lewd and dirty.

His stormy blue eyes meet yours, his cheek tugs into a half-smile that definitely doesn't meet his eyes, the faintest dimple appearing on his left cheek. "John MacTavish, ye maw sent me." 

"Oh, the bodyguard." You reply dumbly. Fuck. If you were opposed to the idea before, you certainly were now... or maybe you're not.

On one hand, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you—on the other, you have to have a handsome stranger watching over you, while you act normal about the entire thing. 

You realise that you're acting completely the fool, so you snap out of your thoughts and step aside to allow the older man inside. "She didn't tell me to expect you... probably thought I'd run. Uh, come in." 

"Thanks." He nods as he steps through the threshold, ducking slightly as he does. 

Once inside, his eyes scan over the open-plan space of your living area, seemingly taking in every little detail. 

You watch him, sensing that his training and experience make him focus on the minute particulars of a room that others would completely skip over. 

Your mother had already clued you into the fact there might need to be security enhancements to the flat itself, and you assume those requests came at the behest of the man himself. He seems to be lost in evaluating what these might be. 

"So, what can I do for you?" You ask, filling the air with some sort of conversation starter. You have no idea what you're doing in this situation on the whole, but especially not when it comes to hiring, negotiating with, and retaining a bodyguard.

"It's what I can do fer you." He turns, taking you in now, and you start to feel self-conscious about having too many buttons undone, too much chest on show. 

Something tells you that MacTavish's gaze would make you squirm regardless—his eyes carrying a heaviness to them that seem like a fantastic attribute in a protector. Surely anyone who would even think about coming close to cause you harm would reconsider under his harsh look.

You start to wrack your brains for what he can actually do for you. Again, you have no familiarity in having personal protection, beyond what you've seen your mother undergo. Your work is fairly stable, you keep the same routine, and the biggest threat you ever seem to face is the creeps in the club. 

Well, apart from the online threats, but something about the anonymous, cowardly messages doesn't frighten you. 

"If I'm being honest,I don't exactly want a bodyguard. I don't see much of a point?" You admit, voice a little quiet. After all, you don't mean to upset or offend the man, but you're not sure he isn't just wasting his time with this job.

He squints, considering for a moment before he answers. "Yer maw sees things differently." 

She does, and that's probably the only reason you agreed to go through with this in the first place. You don't want to worry her, especially since her own security has had to be tightened due to said threats. 

"Yeah, she's really worried." 

John's brows furrow, a small frown appearing on his lips. "Aye, rightly so, considering everything." 

He seems serious and said severity gives you pause for thought. His job is to assess and protect against threats, so surely he wouldn't be here, acting the way he is were there not a valid reason for concern. The thought makes a lump form in your throat, makes your stomach twist in a way you'd rather not acknowledge. 

You try to cope with it the best way you know how—humour. 

"Eh, online threats are nothing new for a girl my age, you know? And it's not like I'm anyone important." You shrug it off, hoping that if you say the words aloud, they'll just come true. As you speak, your phone chimes with a notification from your group chat, reminding you of your upcoming plans—and the fact you're going to have to abandon this little meeting. "Uh, I'd offer you a cuppa, but I'm leaving soon." 

"Don't drink it anyway, but thanks." The man smiles slightly, before turning away once more and scanning the room. He cranes his neck to get a look down the hallway, leading to your bedroom and bathroom. "There's a difference between lads online, an' the kinda people that make up extremist groups like those targeting your maw and her party." 

"Really?" You laugh, a short, sharp sound that betrays your discomfort. You grab your jacket and keys by the door, desperate for something to fiddle with. "Thought they were all just sad loners, desperately searching for something to make them feel better." 

"Except some of them have connections, dangerous connections." 

There are a million and one reasons you don't want to go through with this, and very few urging you to. Though, removing a major worry from your mother's life is a big one—John MacTavish's gorgeous blues are another. The possible invasion of privacy lingers in your head, the worry that your father might be using this as an opportunity to have the inside track on your life, on all the things you don't tell your parents. Your mind also revolts at the idea of unnecessary restrictions to your plans, your friends being held under a magnifying glass. 

The thought of the threats being real is the only thing more startling. You sigh, resigning yourself to your fate. "If this is what will help her feel better, then I guess I better find a way to make this work." 

He nods firmly, joining you at where you hover nervously at the door. "I'd agree." 

"Unfortunately, you arrived at the worst possible time, because like I said, I'm just headed out. Can't miss the tube." You force a tight-lipped smile, making your excuse to leave—the thought of being late makes you jittery, the thought of being late continuing this difficult conversation makes you feel worse. 

"Where ye going?" He asks, head tilted. 

You know it's the first question of many. Where are you going? Who are you going with? The atmosphere already feels a little stifling, the relationship a little strained. You and John aren't friends, never will be friends. He's here to do a job, watch over you, and take your security very, very seriously. 

"This is how it's always going to be?" You ask, the question coming out a little snappier than you intend it to. 

John takes it in stride, unblinking in the face of your shortness, and yet unrelenting in his need for information. "Aye." 

Once more, you sigh. "Right... I'm going to my weekly DnD game at my friend's house, and please, I really don't wanna cancel." You plead, feeling like a child reasoning with their parents rather than two adults on equal footing. You hate the feeling, even if you know his intentions are pure. 

"How many friends?" He asks. 

"4." You answer instantly. 

"How long have ye known them?" His questioning continues, and his focus on the people you trust naturally drives you up the wall, even if again, you know it's just his job.

Your grasp on your keys tightens, your agitation growing. "I'll tell you whatever I can some other time, but please, I hate being late." You gesture to the door, indicating that it's time for him and you to leave. 

John grabs the door, opening it for you and allowing you to step through before he does. As you turn to lock the door, you expect him to arrange another time and to bid you farewell, but he doesn't. "I'll drive ye. Dinnae bother arguing, lass." 

His words have a finality to them that quiets you anyway, but the use of 'lass' renders you all but speechless. 

"Okay..." You mumble, leading the way down the stairs as his hand comes to ghost along your lower back.

MacTavish’s vehicle is parked out in the street, and as you approach the car, you can feel his eyes searching again. He beats you to the car, a sleek black Range Rover, opening the door for you before climbing inside himself.  

The action would be nice under any other circumstance, and such propriety is something you're probably going to have to get used to, but right now it just reinforces the annoying, infantilising feeling that you're currently suffering through. 

As you give your friend's address to John, he takes off without another word, flicking on the car stereo before he goes. The atmosphere is thick, stifling, and you can only hope that in time the feeling will lessen, especially if your mother makes him a permanent feature. 

On the way over, he picks up his questioning where he left off. "So, how long have you known this group?"

"A good few years, since uni." 

"We can go over names and details when you're ready." 

You take a deep breath, holding it in and then forcing yourself to calm a little. Instead, you try to focus on watching John, the diligent way he drives. "I'm assuming you have a long list of things we'll need to go over."

His eyes don't stray from you. "Aye, that we do." 

The two of you fall into tense silence for the rest of the drive, nothing but the music and the sound of the car to keep you company. In the quiet street your friend lives on, John pulls in to park on the opposite side of the road, killing the engine and the radio, making the silence almost deafening.

Your nerves are getting the better of you again, and yet John seems so comfortable, unperturbed by the awkwardness. You're unsure what comes next, what to say. 

"Not to be rude but, I'd prefer if you didn't come in." You utter, saying the first thing that springs to mind, despite it probably not being the best thing either. You flash the man an apologetic smile before you continue. "I don't know how to deal with all this, especially when we haven't agreed on how all this is gonna work?" 

You hope your earnest admission makes up for your temporary ill-manners. 

"Tha's fine, I'll stay here." He looks completely impassive. "Not ideal, but it'll do." 

He doesn't look bothered by the inconvenience, and you suppose you should assuage him of the idea it's going to be a quick visit.

"Really? I'll be gone for a few hours." 

His brow quirks. "Yer maw paid upfront, so as far as am concerned, my job's already started." Once more, his statement is absolute, and you don't bother trying to argue.

"Right then." 

John is out of the car first, headed straight to your side of the door, checking left and right before he opens to let you out. 

The action makes you both laugh and curse, perplexed by the deed as you climb out. "You're not my driver, you know you don't need to open the door for me?" 

He laughs too, derisive and short as he closes the door a little too sharply. "Not tae be rude, but I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'."  

"Gonna walk me to the door?" You ask, trying to shed yourself of your nerves and make the situation lighter. 

You can't stay tense and subdued for the entire duration of this relationship—besides, now you're moments away from reuniting with the others in Albion Vale and forgetting all about this mess for a few hours. That alone is enough to raise your spirits. 

John forces a cheeky, tight-lipped smile, the crow's feet at his eyes crinkling almost condescendingly. "Not feeling tha' gentlemanly anymore. I'm sure ye'll be fine." 

"I'm sure." You make your way halfway across the road, before coming to a realisation, stopping and turning. "Oh, what's your number, you know, make this whole thing easier?"  

John darts out, his arm falling just beside you as he ushers you across the road and onto the other side.

"Pass yer phone." He says, holding out a large, rough hand expectantly. 

"Right, yeah." You nod, probably more than is necessary, as you pass your phone over to the man. 

John takes the phone more softly than you expect, typing in his name and number before holding it back out for you to take. "I'll be here when yer done, to take ye home." 

"Uh, thank you." You take the phone, before walking away sheepishly heading into your friend's block of flats and toward her apartment. 

With each step you take, you try to push John and the threats and everything to do with the outside world far, far out of your brain. 

The night passes by in a flurry of laughter and fun, lost in the adventures of Albion Vale and the antics of your party. 

The session wraps up, and while you would usually be in no rush to head back—you know you can't sit around and leave John, however much a stranger he is, sitting in the car outside. 

You text him to let him know you're headed down in five, and when you make it to the street less than 3 minutes later, he is there, leaning against the car door waiting for you. 

"Thank you." You whisper, climbing inside. When John joins you in the car, he scrubs at his eyes before putting the key in the ignition. "Have you not been bored out of your mind?" 

"Nothing I'm not used to." He replies instantly, pulling away before you can ask any further. 

"What did you do before this?" You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. 

From your understanding, most bodyguards cut their teeth in the police or the armed forces, and have tonnes of experience under their belt.

John oozes an ex-forces demeanour–his perfect posture, constant alertness, and the scars littering his skin. 

It'd be hard not to notice, but becomes immediately obvious with the way your eyes seem to love settling upon him when they can. You have to force yourself to squash down the drunken, misguided lust that flares within you as you watch his large hands on the steering wheel and notice his veiny, hairy, and muscular forearms. 

"Army, Captain." He answers, pulling your attention back to him in a more professional manner properly. 

Something within the way he speaks makes you think there's more to the story—though you suppose with that kind of background, he has a cache of secrets and tales that he can never really share.

"Oh." You nod, feeling a little soothed. If you have to be protected, you suppose someone with his level of experience is the best man for the job. "I'm in good hands then." 

Once more, he flashes a forced half-smile. "Aye."

A moment passes, and you find more questions bubbling to the front of your brain. Naturally, you're curious about this man who is undoubtedly going to become a big part of your life from now on, but the fact that his nature is a little reserved makes your curiosity multiply. You've long been a sucker for closed-off older men—call it a character flaw. 

"Why did you leave the army? If you don't mind me asking."

There's a beat of silence where you think he might not answer, but eventually, he does, eyes still fixed on the road. 

"Medical reasons. Nothing that affects my ability to do this job." He rushes to add, a slight spark of defensiveness flashing through as his jaw visibly tightens.

You're no expert detective, and you haven't seen your protector in action, but your first guess is that whatever ailment made him leave isn't entirely physical. The fact he's been somewhat open about it puts your mind at ease, the fact that your mother has clearly vetted him even more so. 

You offer an empathetic smile that he likely doesn't see. "I don't doubt it." 

The drive home passes quicker and easier with a bit of mead in your veins, allowing you to loosen up enough to hum along to the music playing from John's speakers. The little buzz passing through you alleviates that sense of trepidation you felt earlier, luring you into a false sense of security. 

When the car pulls up and John lets you out, you know just what to say what needs to come next. "Well, I guess you should come in so we can formalise things." 

"I'd appreciate it." He nods, before turning back to the car to grab a bag and follow you into the building.

 *

You and John sit at your kitchen island, tea in your hand and coffee in John's—a neat, stapled stack of papers sits before you.

"Here's the contract I signed with ye maw, but she's given us some wiggle room." John says, tapping the top of the paper where the bold letters of CLOSE PROTECTION AGREEMENT — 141 SECURITY sit. 

"Nice of her to allow me a say, if I'm honest." You laugh dryly—you love your mother dearly, but you'd be lying if you said she wasn't overbearing. Your initial protests about this whole arrangement had been entirely shut down, and clearly, she didn't trust you to follow through considering she sprung John on you tonight, unannounced.

"I'm sure she just wants what's best for ye." John offers as you flick through the pages.

The contract outlines the agreement between the Guard and The Principal—with stipulations on activities, compensation, and conduct. 

It's weird seeing it all laid out on paper, seeing the hefty cost of John's services, and the fact you'll be giving this man free access to your home and life. All of this to keep you safe from some nebulous threats that have not even been acted upon.

"She does, but this is inconvenient, and frustrating to say the least." You purposefully choose not to include the words 'fucking annoying' and 'torturing me with a hot man I can't have', though your next conversation with your therapist will absolutely include such descriptions and more. 

"I can understand tha'." He nods understandingly, before raising his coffee and taking a sip—his gaze unwavering as he does. "You've never had close protection before?" 

You shake your head. "No, this is all new to me." 

"Okay. We'll start by discussing exactly what kind of protection you're looking for. Part of tha' will be dictated by what yer maw laid out, like I said, we can decide specifics." 

"Sounds like a plan." You lean back in your stool, tea in hand as you contemplate. Admittedly, you should have done some research before this, but in your defence, you did think you had more time. You're not entirely sure what boundaries you can set—but you hope that John can lead the process a little. "I don't think I can do something 24/7, and it's not like you can stay here, I guess."

You cringe internally thinking about how fucking awkward that would be—your tipsy brain supplies the image of the world's most uncomfortable sleepover. 

In your imagination, John looks grumpy and uncomfortable, still tucked up in bed in that stiff shirt with his boots still on. You are, of course, in little fluffy bunny pyjamas staring at him all gooey-eyed whilst he tries to pretend everything is normal. It takes conscious effort for you not to giggle at the mental image.

"I understand. I'd suggest I escort you anywhere outside these four walls, day or night, work and social events. Conduct security checks on your flat, vet close contacts, update your digital security, things like tha'." John supplies a rundown of potential actions like it's a grocery list, yet a very severe grocery list. His collected nature does put you more at ease.

"Sounds a tad invasive." 

"I'll try to make it as little as possible." 

"Thanks, I appreciate it." You smile slightly, truly thankful for his consideration and tact.

You give John a once over, thoughts once again ticking over. "If you're going to be with me everywhere, you can't walk around like that, outside of my work, that is. No offense, it's just, all my friends are gonna think I'm a self-important twat if I start showing up everywhere with some posh bodyguard." You stop abruptly, realising how much you're bloody rambling.

"Am far from posh. But, more casual look then, aye?" 

You smile a little nervously, hoping you haven't completely offended the man. "Please." 

This whole situation is beyond difficult to navigate—untreaded paths, forging new relationships, balancing existing ones. Your friends really are going to think this whole situation is beyond bizarre. They already find amusement in seeing your mother on the news. Having a bodyguard is going to leave you subject to endless teasing, relentless mocking, and attempts to make your and John's life a whole lot harder.

Your head falls into your hands as you rub at the sockets of your eyes, undoubtedly smearing your makeup and making a mess of your face. It'll get easier, you reassure yourself.

With your eyes closed and pressed into the heel of your hands, you don't see the way John's expression softens or the way he moves closer to comfort you before hesitating and stopping short. "Wha's the matter?" 

"I'm just... incredibly anxious about how this is going to play out with my friends, with work." 

John leaps into problem-solving mode, immediately pulling from his brain some words to soothe you, as well as making note of what bumps in the road to smooth out. "Ye mother said she already consulted yer work, and they're fine to make accommodations." 

Of course, she'd already talked to David about the whole thing. "So it'll be fine aside from all the gossip it will cause." 

"It's politics and I ken yer not naïve, everybody's talking anyway, no?" He offers, and yet you don't seem assuaged, so he tries a different tactic. "It's my job to blend in. They'll barely notice me." 

"With that haircut? Sorry." You giggle—surprisingly you find the mohawk suits his rugged look, but it certainly isn't something you've seen on a man that wasn't walking the streets of Camden. Though, even with a more fitting haircut, the man is so casually striking and ever so slightly imposing that he just naturally draws attention. "In general, you don't strike me as a man who does blending in well, not in civilian life anyway."

His eyes narrow for a moment, before he struggles to fight off a smirk. "Hmm, ye might have a point. Not changing ma hair though, sorry. Nae sure ye family has enough money for tha' one."  

His more playful side makes your heart soar, and gives you hope that everything might just be alright.

"I have a crazy idea." Okay, maybe you're more tipsy than you thought you were, as your brain supplies an outlandish plot and your mouth runs away with it. 

His eyebrow arches and his eyes sparkle with intrigue. John MacTavish seems like a man who likes crazy ideas. "Go oan." 

"I'll tell my friends that you're my boyfriend, and we're just so madly in love that you have to come everywhere with me. Means no real questions." 

Your proposition is met with deafening silence, despite the huge, encouraging grin on your face.

John laughs, just the once, before his expression hardens. "Not a chance, lass."

"Why? You don't have to really do anything. Besides, it'll save you sitting outside in the car, or staring from the shadows and making everyone feel uncomfortable." 

You realise now that while you noticed a distinct lack of a ring, there's the possibility that John is still attached, and what you're suggesting is wildly inappropriate—but it's not that point he argues on.

"Aye, so I just have to spend ma time socialising instead." He scoffs.

"Well, surely you're not brooding and mysterious all the time." You wager.

Once more, he finds a smirk tugging at his lips that he can't hold back. "No' at all, but it's been a long time since I was the life of the party, and something tells me that me an' your DnD friends don't have a lot in common." 

"They might surprise you, but you also might surprise yourself. Maybe you're a secret nerd." You wink, still being jovial before you shift back to your genuine pleas. "It'll make my life a whole lot easier and be one less thing for me to stress about. My friends wouldn't second guess the story much once they got past the shock of me bagging someone older, wiser, and oh-so-handsome. Please."  

You flash your softest, sweetest doe eyes and lay the compliments on extra thick in the hopes of swaying him. In the political world, you're used to using charm to try and get what you want, and know that without charisma you'd get nowhere. Perhaps it's a bit low of you to stoop to using flirtation on someone who could likely run rings around you when it comes to negotiation, but it's worked before, and at this point, you're desperate.

John straightens up in his seat, eyes you for a moment, and then lets out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine." 

The fact he relents honestly takes you a little by surprise. You're relieved, but yes, surprised. "Huh?"

"Fine, I'll be whoever ye want me to be..." The look in his eyes shifts to something imperceptible, as he leans over the counter closer to you. "As long ye listen to what I say when it comes to yer safety and security. Deal?" 

He holds out his hand, and your own feels dwarfed when you reach out to take his calloused palm.

"You drive a hard bargain, John MacTavish. Deal." You shake, and neither of you makes a move to immediately let go.

"Aye, a know." He winks, and the action makes your heart skip a beat, your cheeks flood with heat.

Each second passes slowly, his touch feeling like too much and not enough all at once. You know at that moment that life from now on is going to be especially difficult as long as John is around.

What he says next is the final nail in that particular coffin. "Would've done it anyway, but glad I got ye to agree to ma terms, lass." 

[mint-yooxgi]

Lethal Protectors - Yandere!Vampires!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Vampire AU

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 6,410

Warnings: Violence and blood. Implied stalking. Past trauma and mentions of a physical assault which almost need in death. Scars. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Well, I never expected this to become this long, but it's based on a dream I had during a nap I took last night lol. Not much, but I hope you enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated!

The trip back to your hometown was meant to be short. Nothing more than a pitstop, really. Say hello to your family, maybe even some friends, then be on your way again. You never expected it to turn into a full month. A month filled with people constantly telling you to stay away from them.

Who were they, and why did the eight of them always suddenly seem to miraculously appear around you whenever you were out? 

You’d go to the store for some food, and suddenly Yeosang and Seonghwa are bickering in the next aisle over about the prices for cereal, while San and Wooyoung gather produce. Other times, you’d run out to grab coffee in the mornings for yourself and your family, only for Hongjoong and Yunho to appear in line behind you, chatting you up about the weather the town has been having lately. You’ve ran into Mingi and Jongho more times than you can count at different thrift stores, that you’re starting to think they might be stalking you.

The odd thing is, growing up in such a small town, you think you’d remember them. It’s not that they aren’t nice people, or so they seem. You just trust your neighbour, Missus Benson who you’ve known for years over eight complete strangers.

Then, the rumours started. Your old school delinquent who’s always had it in for you wanted to ‘talk’. You know exactly what that’s code for, so you started going out less and less, being cautious to always go out with either your parents, or someone you knew to avoid running into an ‘old friend’.

Only, you weren’t the only one that noticed.

Over the past month, whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, you have been growing closer to those eight mysterious men. Yunho and Wooyoung never fail to make you laugh, or crack a smile, even unwillingly. Seonghwa and Jongho are always there with recommendations for natural remedies for sudden aches and pains. Both Hongjoong and Mingi quite enjoy talking to you about music, a topic you never really got to discuss in full with any of your other friends, and both San and Yeosang are great at giving advice, even subtly.

It’s a cold Thursday morning when you coincidentally run into Yunho at the coffee shop. He looks concerned, but as soon as you bring it up, it’s like his expression does a one-eighty.

“Just worried about you, is all.” He smiles politely. “Haven’t seen you around lately.”

The corner of your lips twitch upwards as you tense, “Been busy.”

“Is everything okay?” His brow furrows, concern immediately washing over his features.

“Yeah…” Movement outside the coffee shop draws your attention, and you’re quick to head towards the side entrance. “Sorry, Yun, I’ve really got to go. Talk to you later?”

The sound of the front bell jingling is synonymous with the side door slamming shut, the tall male standing there as he blinks in shock. Clearly something isn’t right, and when he turns back around to face front, he thinks he gets his answer.

***

It’s a misty Monday morning when you find yourself beginning to feel too cooped up in the house. Your whole mind is wound, and every little thing seems to set you off - your mother not muting her phone when she watches funny little videos, the sound of your father’s typing on his laptop. Hell, even the sound of the dog’s nails on the floor running back and forth as your sister plays with him is grating on your every nerve. 

Which is why when the mid-afternoon rolls around, you decide that you’ve had enough.

“I’m going for a walk!” You call out, not even waiting for a response as you sling your jacket over your one shoulder, and step outside.

The front door slams shut behind you, finalizing the sudden decision. You’ll take your chances traversing the familiar forest across the street. Ryder doesn’t live in this immediate neighbourhood, anyways, and it’s far too dreary a day for him to be out and about. At least, in your opinion.

Sliding your jacket onto your arms, you’re quick to cross the street. The area seems particularly quiet, but with the grey clouds hanging in the sky, the mist clinging to the air, you understand why.

A small smile tugs at your features as you pause just before the one entrance to the forest. It’s been a while since you went traversing through the woods like you were a kid again, and you can already feel the calming effects of the crisp air cooling your every sense.

Without another thought, you begin.

You walk your old path twice before deciding to sit yourself down at your favourite spot, just beside the small pond in the middle of the woods. A fallen tree provides a natural bench as you stare out across the water, some ducks swimming across the surface. 

You can hear the sounds of natural all around you: leaves rustling as the wind drifts through the trees, bugs humming in the background while animals forage for food. Every now and then, you can hear feet shuffling in the underbrush as a couple or two walk by with their dog, holding hands and smiling at you politely as you turn to say hello.

It’s been a while since you’ve fully submersed yourself like this, and to say you’ve missed it would be a huge understatement. Getting out of the house, especially on a day like today, a day with weather you’ve always been fond of, has done wonders for your mood. Enough so, that you practically forget all about Ryder for the moment. Or, at least, he doesn’t worry you as much as before. Really, what can he do to you now that he didn’t back then?

The sound of approaching footsteps trudging along the path draws your attention. Turning reveals a girl about your age with shoulder length golden locks hanging in loose curls approaching you. The closer she gets, the more you realize how blue her eyes are, and just how familiar she looks.

Her head tilts as she pauses in her steps, a curious call of your name falling from your lips. “Do you remember me?”

You smile, standing back to your feet as you face her. “Of course I do!”

She mirrors your expression as you both hug each other.

“It’s good to see you again, Gabrielle!” You comment, pulling away from her for the moment. “I haven’t seen you since elementary school.”

“You look so different!” She chuckles. “Then again, I imagine so do I.”

You nod, sharing a small laugh with her.

“I know we weren’t really close in school, but would you like to walk with me for a bit and catch up?” She offers, motioning down that all too familiar path that leads to the side roads.

“Sure!” You readily agree, already falling into step beside her.

The two of you talk for about an hour, sharing some details of your lives and what you’re up to now-a-days. Only, you see her brow furrowing slightly in worry as you approach that little pond area you first met once more.

“You mentioned meeting some new faces when you came back for a visit,” she chews on her bottom lip. “Did I hear you right when you said you’ve met Yunho?”

Your own brow furrows slightly, “Yeah. What about him?”

“He and his friends are no good.” She warns you, suddenly grabbing your arms in her hands. “You need to stay away from them.”

“Why does everybody keep saying that?” You shake your head, not quite understanding their concern. “They all seem like nice guys to me.”

“They showed up in town about two years ago, right around the time those animal attacks started happening.” She explains. “So many people have been run out of town, or have left because of them.”

“The guys, or the animal attacks?” You inquire, this being the first time you’ve heard anything about there being any sort of animal attacks nearby.

“It doesn’t matter,” she shakes her head. “They’re dangerous people. Don’t go anywhere near them.”

“No, the person I need to stay away from is Ryder.” You comment, gently removing her hands from your arms. “He still seems to hold a grudge towards me since high school.”

“He followed you to high school?” She blinks, almost dumbfounded, at you.

Quickly, you shift your head from side to side, as if checking if the coast is clear. You’ve had this sneaking suspicion that you’re being watched ever since you entered the forest, but it’s only just recently gotten stronger. Once you determine that no one is around, you motion her closer.

“Gabi, he almost killed me.” Your voice is no more than a whisper as a harsh wind blows passed. Gently, you grip the edge of your shirt, shifting slightly to raise it to about the bottom of your ribs.

Her eyes widen, a gasp escaping her lips as her hands come up to cover her mouth.

“Final year, he cornered me in the locker room.” You let the material of your shirt fall back down to cover the jagged scar on your body, spanning from below your ribs on your right side, all the way across your stomach, and almost to your left hip. “Didn’t even use a blade, but a broken piece of glass from the window he smashed to get in.”

“That’s horrible!” Her whole body trembles. “I’m so sorry that happened!”

“Because it happened before his eighteenth birthday, they couldn’t try him as an adult yet. He got two months in juvie and a slap on the wrist. I got twenty-four stitches, and six months in recovery.” You avert your gaze. “I’m assuming he’s looking for me to finish what he started.”

“But why?” She meets your gaze, tears lining her vision.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, straightening out the front of your jacket. “I never asked, nor did I want to.”

“You should get home, then!” She replies frantically, checking her watch. “Ryder and his gang enjoy hanging out at that entrance over there with their bikes in the evenings. It’s almost around the time he gets here.”

Frantically, she starts tugging your hand to lead you in the opposite direction.

Faintly, you begin to hear the sound of motorcycles revving in the distance.

“Hurry!” She tugs you along, sparing a glance behind you only for her eyes to widen. “Shit. I can just make out some of their bikes at the edge of the path. Sometimes they like to joyride through here cause it’s wide and flat enough. Let me see if I can go distract them for a bit. I’ll meet you at the front entrance in five!”

Without waiting for a response, she pushes you behind her and down the path. You can only watch as she scurries off towards the sound of revving bikes and obnoxious laughter.

Reluctantly, you part ways, looking back over your shoulder every now and then to see if you can still catch a glimpse of Gabrielle. Only, the further you get, the harder it is to tell if she’s alright. She took a big risk doing this for you, especially since you don’t really know her all that well anymore, and you both were never really close to begin with. Still, you will not forget her kindness that easily.

At least Ryder shouldn’t hurt her. From what you recall, he was always trying to impress her in elementary school.

Just as you breach the forest entrance she told you to wait by, your eyes widen. What if she did this to set you up?

No. Her shocked reaction was too genuine to fake. Besides, she was never like that before, and you do not think she’s like that now. Either way, she should be back with you in a minute.

Five more minutes pass by, and you’ve still yet to see any sight, nor hear any sound of Gabrielle. Your worry skyrockets with each passing second, and you know you’re not that far from the side road if you decided to cut through the bush. Something must have happened.

At the shriek of fear you hear faintly in the distance, you know something’s wrong. Even that creeping sense of being watched has left you about twelve minutes ago, and you don’t know what’s going on. Either way, you’re not going to leave Gabi to the same fate you suffered under at the hands of this man. If he wants you, then that’s exactly who he’s going to get.

It takes you less than two minutes to reach the entrance at the side of the road, creeping along the trees to avoid being seen for as long as you can. You turn your head left to see nothing, only to turn right and see about six males sitting around on motorcycles, Gabrielle being held in their midst. She struggles to free herself, a switchblade being pressed to her throat by Ryder who wears a smug grin as he whispers lowly into her ear.

“Ryder.” Your stern voice draws all of their attention as you step out of the woods. “Let her go.”

“Ah, there you are.” He hums, fingers tightening on the back of Gabrielle’s neck. “Took you long enough to show up. You know I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Let her go, she has nothing to do with this.” You keep your voice calm, hands raised defensively in front of you as you keep a fair amount of distance between you and the six men. “You wanted me, not her.”

“I suppose you took the bait easily enough.” He chuckles, shoving Gabi to the ground.

Tears stream freely down Gabi’s cheeks as she scrambles away. All the other males offer her is condescending chuckles, tripping her as she attempts to escape.

Gabrielle runs over to you, a small scrape cut into the skin of her left eyebrow. Her hands once more find purchase on your arms, soft apologies falling from her lips.

“It’s okay.” You assure her. “Get home safely, I’ll be fine.”

She squeezes your arms, rushing back off into the suddenly silent woods and out of sight.

“So, you’ve finally returned after years of staying away, huh?” Ryder scoffs, standing from his motorcycle and slowly stalking towards you like a predator would its prey. “What made you stay? I thought you swore to never spend more than one evening in this town if you could.”

“Oh, you know,” you reply casually, backing up all the while. “Lease was about to renew, landlord raised the rent, apartment flooded. The usual.”

“Convenient,” he grins, and the sight only serves to unnerve you. “Had nowhere else to go expect dear old mom and dad.”

“You should know.” You reply bluntly.

Everyone you’ve talked to has explained how much of a deadbeat Ryder is. He’s always trashing the town and causing mischief, but he never gets penalized for it. Bastard’s dad is a cop, no wonder he only really got off with a slap on the wrist when he hurt you all those years ago.

“How’s that scar?” He tilts his head mockingly. “Did wonders to improve your ugly features. Too bad it didn’t kill you.” He pauses ten feet from you, that switch blade getting flipped menacingly in his hand. “Want some more?”

You run; without wasting another precious moment, you turn and flee.

The sound of revving engines reach your ears as you stick to the edge of the road. You’ll have better chances of a car coming by than with people walking through the woods this late in the evening. So, you take your chances on a flat path, sprinting along the wet pavement as the mist continues to hang in the air.

Only, you don’t get very far, for two of his lackeys nearly run you off of the road when they swerve in front of you. The others are quick to surround you, but you don’t even have much time to think before you feel yourself get harshly tackled to the ground.

Blow after blow is given to you, blood seeping out of cuts all along your body. Ryder lets each of his men take turns beating you, saving the knife until the very end when you can no longer feel your right arm, or the left side of your face.

Slowly, meticulously, he reopens that cut he gave you all those years ago. He’s not gentle, either, and all you can think of is that this is just like the first time, only worse. This time, there are witnesses who choose not to help you, screams and pleas of mercy falling on deaf ears.

“There,” he stands back to his feet, spitting on you all the while. “Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on their morning commute will find you.” He kicks you one more time for good measure as your vision begins to fade. “If you’re that lucky, this time.”

Nothing but the sound of their maniacal laughter echoes through your mind as they rev their engines once more. The last thing you see before your world goes black is the faint glow of taillights driving off into the distance.

***

You don’t know how much time has passed, but you do recognize a few things.

One: you’re terribly cold. You can barely feel your body, and consciousness is a battle to maintain as your whole being aches with a pain unlike anything ever before.

Two: you are no longer alone.

Someone seems to be calling your name frantically, your body being held within that person’s embrace. Their caress is tender, cautious not to aggravate your wounds any further than they already are.

Groggily, your eyes blink open, whole body tensing as you hear three unnatural roars sound from just off to your right.

“Tell them to calm down!” The voice holding onto you snaps at someone to their left. “They’re scaring her.”

Finally, your gaze refocusses, and you can just make out the features of the man holding you. Your lips part, his name but a muted whisper as you attempt to speak.

“Shhh,” Yunho coos, brushing a hand tenderly over the top of your head. “We’re here now. It’ll all be okay.”

Faintly, you register the sound of someone pacing just by your head.

“This is all my fault,” a deep voice sounds from above you. It must be whoever was pacing, for they seem to have stopped for the moment. “If I didn’t leave her alone to come get all of you, this never would have happened.”

“You did what any one of us would have, Yeosang.” Another voice replies, a slight sigh on his lips. “If we all hadn’t of gotten here when we did, it would be much worse.”

“Here,” Seonghwa comes to kneel beside you, his arm shaking as he brings his wrist to your lips, “Drink this.”

You try to protest, to resist the red liquid which pours soothingly down your throat, but you cannot. You are far too weak at the moment to do anything other than obey, and besides, you’ll probably die soon. So, what’s the difference if you comply with the wishes of a strange request?

Only, the moment the warmth touches your tongue, you begin to feel strength returning to you. Your breathing is evening out with every breath you take, your wounds slowly seeming to close. The pain is starting to dissipate, and you find you are regaining feeling in all parts of your body.

Your vision clears further, and you can see Hongjoong standing off to the side, both him and Wooyoung looking absolutely livid as the sound of snapping branches reaches your ears. Shifting your gaze, you see both Mingi and San rush out of the woods far too quickly for any human to do, dried blood coating their hands as dirt covers their arms.

Finally, the eldest pulls his wrist away, wiping at the small stain of red that coats your lips with his thumb. Silently, as he does so, the six others standing around you converge.

Yunho’s whole body shakes. You can feel it trembling against you as he pulls you into his chest. His grip is desperate, clinging to you for dear life as if you may disappear again at a moment’s notice.

“Who did this to you?” His voice is calm; deadly. Like the approach of an oncoming storm.

You look down, noticing the torn material of your shirt. Your hands shake as you watch that scar you’ve had for the majority of your life finish healing, the line you’ve become so accustomed to fading into nothing.

Blood still covers the majority of your body, yet all you can do is stare at your hands for the moment. Slowly, you raise them, touching the tips of your fingers to your thumbs, and counting to twenty in your mind. You blink a few times, still debating on if this is really happening or not.

You tilt your head, almost inquisitively, “How…”

“She’s in shock.” Jongho comments.

“Of fucking course she is!” San replies, clearly exasperated as he nearly tears his hair out of his skull. “We only found her bleeding out and on the verge of death at the side of the road!”

You flinch at his tone, and they all take a step towards you.

“Watch it, San.” Mingi warns.

“Like you are fairing any better.” Wooyoung snaps, arms crossed over his chest. “Tearing out the whole forest isn’t going to catch the bastard that did this to our ma-“

“Who did this to you?” Hongjoong’s inquiry is a tad softer than Yunho’s as he crouches beside you. His blond hair is pushed up and away from his face, hiding nothing of his expression of concern as he reaches for your hands. Still, he cannot hide the tremble in his own.

Your lips part, voice catching in your throat. Desperately, you attempt to find the words to say, but none seem to want to come out.

A blink, and Yeosang comes to crouch beside Hongjoong, drawing your attention to him for the moment.

“Was it Ryder?” He keeps his inquiry low, tone even as he meets your gaze.

After a moment of hesitation, you nod. Slowly.

The males all tense around you, but none so much as the one holding you.

“He was the one-“ Yunho swallows thickly. “The one that made you flee the coffee shop that day.”

Again, you nod.

“He gave you that scar you showed Gabrielle today.” Yeosang continues, and in the back of your mind, you wonder how he knew that. Though, from the way your injuries have miraculously healed, the rumours you’ve heard, and those roars that shook the area not even ten minutes ago, you’re starting to piece two and two together. “He did this to you."

The way you swallow, quite thickly at that, is answer enough.

“I’ll fucking kill him for touching you.” Wooyoung seethes, his eyes flashing beneath the dull light of the moon now peeking through the clouds.

“Bastard is lucky to still be fucking breathing right now,” San’s chest heaves with every breath, hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides.

Hongjoong stands back to his feet, turning his back to you as he methodically cracks his neck from side to side.

Gently, Yunho hands you off to Seonghwa, who is more than happy to cradle you in his hold.

“Jongho, Seonghwa, Yeosang, take her home.” Hongjoong rolls his shoulders, only to spare a glance back at you in the next moment. He smiles reassuringly before turning to face front, the others coming to stand beside him in a line. “The rest of us are going hunting.”

A blink, and the five other males have disappeared from sight.

Words of protest begin to form at your lips as you feel yourself being picked up quite easily by the eldest from the ground. You’re still trying to wrap your head around the events that have taken place before your very eyes, but the longer you think about it, the more your head begins to hurt.

“Shh,” Seonghwa coos into your ear, turning back towards the forest and beginning to walk down the path with the other two males in tow. “Just sleep.”

You want to fight it, but at the sudden fatigue that clouds your mind, you have no choice but to fall unconscious for the second time this evening.

***

This time, when you wake, the sound of a crackling fire greets your ears. You can feel yourself being held in someone’s embrace, a soothing hand being brushed over your back as you curl into what you assume is their chest. The odd part is, even though you remember everything, you feel safe, and you certainly feel warm.

A small groan escapes you, your hands coming up to rub at your eyes. You manage to push yourself the slightest bit away from whoever seems to be resting with you on the couch, feeling their chest shake with a chuckle as you nearly fall backwards onto the floor.

“Feeling better?” It’s Yeosang.

You blink, quite a few times at him laying in front of you, just casually holding you steady so you don’t go tumbling from the couch. 

“Uh, yeah.” You clear your throat. “Thanks.”

Slowly, with his help, you sit up. He helps you wrap the blanket you had been using around your shoulders, and that’s when you notice both Jongho and Seonghwa sit in the same room as you. Each male occupies a separate armchair, gazes locked on your form as they observe your every move with nothing but worry in their eyes.

“Are you okay?” Jongho leans forward the slightest bit, fingers desperately clutching at the sides of his chair as he looks to you.

You wrap the blanket tighter around yourself as you nod. 

You stare at the floor, keeping your voice low. “How did you find me?”

The three males share a look between one another.

“We-“ Seonghwa swallows thickly, averting his gaze to the side. “We could smell your blood.”

Before another word can be said from any of you, the sound of a door opening reaches your ears. Glancing up reveals five more men flooding into the room, red coving nearly every free inch of their skin.

Your eyes nearly bug right out of your head, especially when Wooyoung comes to kneel right in front of you, reaching for you with nothing but concern on his features. Only, you cannot help but to push yourself away from him, and as far back into the couch as you can go. 

His expression droops.

“Wooyoung.” Hongjoong hisses.

“Please don’t be scared of us,” he keeps his voice low, nonthreatening. “We would never hurt you.”

“Give her some space,” Yunho drags the male back by the collar of his shirt. “She nearly died tonight, the last thing she needs to be is crowded.”

Each male does not fail to miss the way you flinch at Yunho’s words.

“I understand why people told me to stay away from all of you, now.” You keep your voice low, clearing the roughness of your dry throat as you speak.

You notice the way they all tense, expressions falling, even if only the slightest bit.

“Are you scared of us?” Hongjoong’s tone is soft, nothing but a gentle inquiry as he meets your gaze.

“Should I be?” You quirk a brow. “Because I’m pretty sure if you were half as bad as people said you were, you would have left me for dead at the side of the road.”

This time, it’s their turn to flinch at the reminder of the state they found your body in.

“Right now, I need honesty.” You spare a glance around at all of them as you curl in tighter to yourself. “Can you afford me that?”

“Always.” Mingi breathes, taking a step towards you as if he wants to comfort you.

You take a deep breath in, “You all aren’t human.”

A statement which they pick up on.

“That is correct.” Yunho nods, swallowing somewhat thickly.

“You’re responsible for those animal attacks starting around two years ago that Gabi told me about.” Again, another statement.

“Yes and no,” San grimaces. “There were a few other covens that tried to follow us here. We ran them off.”

You can feel your heart pounding inside of your chest as you continue to stare at the floor. The fire crackles to the side.

“You’re vampires.”

A stillness passes over the room.

“We are.” Yeosang confirms, and he notices how you don’t necessarily retreat any further away from him on the couch this time.

You look up, sparing a glance around the room and fully taking in the bloody appearances of the five males who entered not that long ago. Your hands tighten on that blanket around your form. 

“You killed them, didn’t you?” The words are no more than a whisper on your lips, but they all still manages to hear.

“Of course we did.” Wooyoung states, rather firmly.

You meet his gaze. “Why?”

The eight males nearly blink in surprise.

“They hurt you.” Mingi replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “He hurt you.”

“Why go through all of these lengths to help me?” You spare another glance around the room at all of them.

They all seem to blink in mild surprise.

“Because you are important to us.” Hongjoong shifts to crouch in front of you, gently reaching over to clasp your hand in his own.

“You met me a little over three weeks ago.” You deadpan.

“We’ve been searching for you for much longer than that.” Seonghwa breathes out, shifting so that he’s sitting on the edge of his seat.

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean by that?”

“How much do you know about our kind?” San asks, sitting across from you on the opposite couch.

Your eyes narrow slightly at him, figuring this to be some sort of test. “I’ll admit, I’m rather ignorant when it comes to your ways. I don’t think Twilight or Dracula are good history books.”

Mingi and Wooyoung snort, “You’ve got that right.”

“Basics are the same,” Yunho says, beginning to list off, “We need blood, or blood substitutes to survive. Strength, speed, abilities, all the same.”

“Sunlight, garlic, and crosses are all null though.” Wooyoung shrugs, plopping on the couch right beside San.

“Though, there always seem to be one aspect never mentioned for our kind.” Yeosang mumbles, somewhat disappointedly.

“No, the wolves seem to get that aspect more than we do.” Seonghwa rolls his eyes, sitting back in his chair.

“Aspect?” You spare a look around the room before your eyes settle in on the soft brown ones of the male kneeling before you.

“There are many different words for it,” Hongjoong begins. “Fated, life partners, lost souls,” his eyes flash as he watches you carefully, “mates.”

Your head tilts forward in disbelief, “You expect me to believe vampires have soulmates?”

“Believe it or not, we do.” Yunho’s voice is but a mere exhale on his lips as he looks to you, a certain type of fondness suddenly shining there that you’ve never seen before.

Your head begins reeling.

“None of our kind really know how it works,” San looks down at his hands, beginning to pick at some of the dried blood lingering there. 

“It can happen at any stage in our lives, but there comes a point where we begin to feel drawn to a place.” Seonghwa explains.

“Sometimes it’s a hometown, other times it’s where they currently live.” Mingi adds.

“We all felt that pull,” Hongjoong breathes. “To here.” He meets your gaze. “To you.”

“We spent a full year in this area before we realized you were no longer living in town.” Wooyoung’s gaze drops to his lap, a sort of defeated longing taking over his features.

You notice how none of them meet your gaze now, and realization settles in your bones. 

You inhale sharply. “You tracked me.”

“When you’ve lived as long as we have, you begin to think these stories of so called ‘fated’ are simply legend.” Hongjoong admits. “So, when we finally felt that pull, we wanted to do anything to keep it.” He squeezes your hand gently. “To find you.”

A sort of ease lifts some of the tension from the room as it settles over the eight of them

“And we did.” Mingi smiles softly at you, blinking back the tears that suddenly spring to his eyes.

“Getting to know you was the next step,” Wooyoung says, a sort of eager gleam shining in his eyes now.

“Of course, we don’t know everything.” Yunho shoots him a pointed look.

“Once we knew you’d be coming for a visit back home, it made things a little easier,” Jongho admits, his fingers beginning to dance along the armrests of his chair.

Your eyes narrow suspiciously. “That’s sweet and all, but you only talked to me because fate told you to?”

“No!” Seonghwa is quick to protest, extending his arms in front of himself as panic crosses all of their features.

“We wanted to get to know you first, before truly deciding on anything.” Yeosang says, noticing how you turn your gaze to meet his own as he speaks. He smiles shyly, averting his eyes in the next moment.

Of course, they’re not going to tell you the lengths they went to just to get you to stay at your hometown for longer than you had planned. It’s not like they planned to let you leave them. Not when they’ve finally found you. Not when you’re finally theirs.

“And do I get a choice in this?” You quirk a brow.

The males all share a look.

“Of course you do!” Hongjoong assures you. “We would never force you to be with us.”

However, sabotaging any other partners you may desire is not completely off of the table. They’ll all make sure to appear as the best options for you. Them, and only them.

You nod in understanding. Beginning to push yourself off of the couch. Luckily, Hongjoong seems to pick up on your movements, helping you up and onto your feet in the next moment.

“This is a lot to think about.” You reply, rather bluntly. “A lot has happened, and I really just want to go to sleep.”

Seonghwa stands. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Again, your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“No.” You shake your head. “I am going home, and then we can discuss this later. Preferably when over half of you are not covered in blood from ripping someone apart.”

“Oh, believe me, Gorgeous,” Wooyoung grins, though it serves to unnerve your more than anything, “We did more than that to that bastard.”

Your whole body tenses, and you watch as San reaches over to smack Wooyoung upside the head.

“Ow,” he rubs at the tender spot, “What the hell was that for?”

At the jerk of San’s chin in your direction, Wooyoung takes in your tense state.

You blink, clearing your thoughts. “One of you, take me home.”

Turning towards the door you’re positive the five had entered from earlier, you begin to make your way out of the room. All eight of them are quick to follow, Seonghwa offering to drive you back to your place for the evening. Both Yunho and Hongjoong offered, but seeing as they’re both still bathed in blood, you opted to decline.

The whole drive back to your parent’s house is silent, Seonghwa attempting some small talk with you only for you to shut him down every time. You’ve been through a lot this evening, and there’s been a lot of information for you to process, so of course the eldest isn’t phased in the slightest. Ever the gentleman, he still bids you a goodnight, and waits until you get inside your house, and have turned on your bedroom light before driving off into the night.

That evening, as you lay in bed, all you can do is toss and turn. Your mind swims with everything you’ve learned, yet you find yourself more relaxed than anything. It’s as if this is always what was meant to be.

With that thought, you turn onto your side, clutching your pillow firmly to your chest. Not even ten minutes later, you succumb to sleep, breathing evening out as your curtains sway in the breeze.

Silently, eight presences enter your room, completely undetected beneath the light of the moon.

“That went better than planned,” Wooyoung comments, a giddy grin tugging at his lips.

“She seems to be taking things well,” Seonghwa nods his agreement.

“It helps that she already knows us.” Jongho hums, shifting in closer to your bed until he’s right beside your nightstand.

“We still don’t know if she’ll fully accept us.” Yunho reaches out for you, only to stop himself when he feels Yeosang’s hand on his wrist.

“Let’s not push our luck tonight, yeah?” He shoots a sharp look at the taller male.

“Either way, we’ll never let her out of our sights again.” There’s a low growl on San’s lips as he says this, filling the space with a promise which is echoed by each one of his brothers standing around you in that room.

“Nothing will ever bring her harm,” Mingi kneels behind the opposite side of your bed, hand gently resting on the edge so as not to alert you of his presence. The whole time, his eyes remain locked on your figure, dead heart racing with nothing but love as he gazes at you fondly. “We’ll make sure of it.”

“That we will.” Hongjoong hums, coming to kneel as close to your sleeping figure as he can. 

Softly, he trails his gaze over your body, noticing how you seem to shiver beneath the gentle breeze that flits through your room. He pulls your covers over your arms, risking a tender caress against your cheek once he’s done. 

“We’ll watch over you, Our Precious Fated,” He whispers lowly, hearing soft growls of agreement echo once more around the room from all of them. “You never have to worry about anything again. We promise: we'll always bring you home.”

[luvrodite]

TAKE FLIGHT JASON TODD (college!au)

↳ headcanons about jason in the au that is currently taking up all my brain space. so incredibly self indulgent. extreme liberties taken with his characterisation i'm sorry this is fanfiction!!!!!

first and most importantly - nothing (too) bad happens in this au. i imagine him getting adopted by bruce, but he gets to live and be happy and he is so so loved and that doesn't change

if he's got issues with his dad it's normal human issues like not seeing eye to eye on things but at the end of the day he is cherished and bruce supports him in everything

so he goes to university. in this au i imagine him to be studying literature (of course, duh) but also something else. i feel like he'd be interested in philosophy, but in my mind it's definitely something in the humanities faculty.

moves out but doesn't do the dorm thing because he wants his own space, and i think bruce just takes care of everything and he doesn't have to worry about rent or groceries or anything of that sort

i think he'd still get a job though...like maybe in a secondhand bookstore or music store that nobody really goes to so it's quiet and he can work on his assignments and read most of the time

makes friends with the regular people that breeze in and out - likes to people watch because he gets so many interesting looking people that come through

i think he'd have to have a little old lady neighbour that doesn't trust him at first because look at him he's so tall and big and he's got his fair share of scars on his hands from high school

but he's an angel...probably helps her take in her groceries quietly and leaves it at that because that's simply the thing to do

like i don't imagine he'd be extremely chatty, but he's polite and says hello to everyone or nods at them in the elevator

she warms up to him and they have conversations in the morning when she’s going down for her daily morning walk and he’s got classes to head to 

imagining him with still slightly messy curls in the morning as he walks onto campus

he's so.. boy. in this au. does that make sense??? just. happy and stress free, and he loves his courses and he calls home every few days and his younger brothers are ever suffering because he talks so much about the stuff he’s learning 

sobs he’s such a nerd i love him but they’re just wondering how this is the guy that gets side-eyed everywhere he goes 

but he’s not mild mannered…he just minds his business

like i said, has gotten into his fair share of fights at school and similarly isn’t afraid to tell someone when they’re being a dick 

the girls in his class love him because he actually likes to have discussions with them instead of talking over them and is happy to speak for the group or let them do it if they want when they get called on for class discussions

he’s just that guy who at first glance seems a little intimidating because a) he’s gorgeous and b) is huge but you get put into a group with him and he’s so intelligent and polite, listens to what everyone has to say and has wicked smart opinions of his own to share

has a bike. in every iteration of jason he must have a motorbike i just cannot imagine him without a bike. nearly gives bruce a heart attack in this au because he immediately runs through the worst case scenarios and it takes AGES before he accepts it even if he does think the bike looks cool and it takes even longer before he lets jason take him for a spin on the back of it

bruce in this au is just. doting and a little anxious about things. and that's okay. he's coming to terms with his kids growing up, and the changes that come with that. at least he's still got his girls, who will never not come around to bother him. but dick has already left the nest, and jason is on his way. he just misses when they were little

he likes to say jason was so small he could hold him in the palm of his hands (a big lie, as he was small but not that small, but jason secretly likes the affection)

he scribbles in all his class assigned novels, notes filling up the margins and the blank pages at the end - annotations on annotations

has gone down a rabbit hole of literature papers analysing different texts at 3 am. several times

paperbacks on his bedside table, bookmarked with receipts and scraps of paper, literally anything that can be used - he'll use it

notebooks for each class that are equally as full, coordinating notes on books and poems and papers

sigh english student jason todd my beloved angel 

this isn't meant to be taken seriously at all, but we're here to have a good time. sigh i wanna make a moodboard so u guys can see the vision i have of him

[fullofgutsndopamine]

Because The Road Home (leads me right to your door)

TW: she/her pronouns, drinking to excess, cursing, sloppy drunks

Neighbour au in which one gets drunk and ends up knocking at the other’s door, drunkenly trying to argue with the neighbor and- instead- passing out in their living room.

“No because like that’s the problem with Christmas, right?” she licks her lips, leans in closer to the person next to her, “Because it’s a capitalist hell hole we live in-“

somehow, the person next to her is even more drunk than she is, swaying in place with slanted eyes.

“No, dude.” He slurs, “you’re right. like-“

she tries to pay attention to him speaking, looks at his lips as he talks and rests the rim of an overused solo cup to her lips. it’s filled to the brim with red wine, which has sloshed over multiple times and stained the front of her white sweater already, a problem for later.

She’s enough drinks in to have false confidence, can feel her lips buzz and her fingers tingle. Confident enough to interrupt her friend in front of her, she finally speaks:

“y’know what?” she stops long enough to hiccup.

Your equally drunk friend, Geoff, nods, doesn’t even care that she interrupted him mid thought (and the thoughts were fleeting) “Go on.” he encourages her.

“I’m gonna go in and finally give that fucking neighbor next door a piece of our mind.”

Geoff nods, immediately sold:

“the one with the music?”

“yes!” she’s borderline yelling, “the fucker with the music. i’m tired of everyone here not being able to study because of him.”

Geoff nods once: “do it.” he pauses for a second, a smirk snaked onto his lip: “i dare you.”

and that’s all she needs to stumble across the lawn, yelling the entire time, working herself up-when she looks back Geoff is gone, probably distracted, but the red hot anger from the alcohol still burns warm in her chest, finds herself as he fist raises to the door and the blows land

“i know you’re there, fucker.”

Suddenly aware of how cold it is, she rubs her hands along her arms as if that will offer warmth, make a jacket appear like magic. she can hear the music from inside; not as loud as usual, but enough to build the hot anger up that swells in her stomach until her hand rests along the door again

as if he planned it, the door whips open and a frazzled man answers.

“Hello?”

his voice borders on panic, or worry, you aren’t sure which, but you push it down.

“you.”

a smirk appears on his lips, takes over his mouth as he leans against the doorframe, crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly the picture perfect, calm man now.

“Me?” he muses. immediately, he can tell she’s past drunk; swaying in place, the slurring words, the squinted eyes

she’s had run ins with him before but on a much milder scale-bringing mail to him when Geoff is too awkward to drop it off. the time he came home early and pulled into his driveway was she fed a stray that was attracted to his front porch for some reason-

“Yes-you!” she huffs, a stomped foot. finding the confidence that rolls and snakes around in your belly she takes a step forward and presses a finger hard into his chest:

“you and your music!”

“my music?” he giggles, “what about my music, princess? hm?”

“To begin with,” she removes her finger from his chest long enough to tick them off on her fingers: “it’s loud.”

“Right,” hasan nods, “go on, then.”

“and! and it’s obnoxious.”

“obnoxious,” he muses, “that sure is a word to use. maybe not the right word-“

“And!”

she tries again and he laughs, stands up a little straighter: “oh damn, I thought we were done. I have to hear this. Off you go, then.”

“Like i was trying to say!” her head spins and she rests her hand on the doorframe, knocking his own off in the move to do so, “and it’s-“

“princess?” he finally manages, though it still sounds like he’s holding in a laugh, “you alright?”

“of course i am.”

“right,” he nods, “i believe you were giving me a verbal lashing on my music. you were on reason two, if that helps.”

“it’s a long list.”

“i got the time.”

“stop mansplaining to me,” she hiccups, the world around her spins and comes in and out of color, “like i was saying-“

“you know,” he says, half a step towards her, “i actually have something in the oven to check on. come inside for a second-“

“i’m not done.”

“i know you aren’t, princess.” he holds in the eye roll, takes a step towards her and holds her by the elbow. “come on.”

carefully, his hand rests on her elbow, the other on her lower back as he carefully watches her take the small step inside, closes the door behind her.

“i don’t know where i am.”

her voice borders on being sad, eyes glassy as she looks around. it’s a nice house, she’ll allow herself to say; a light purple wall, decorated with paintings and framed books line the shelves-small planted flowers crawl and creep towards the sun, surprisingly well taken care of-

she takes a step to investing the titles on the wall and hasan drops her:

“no you don’t,” he says gently, “cmon, we’re getting water.”

“i can do it myself.”

“i’m sure you can, princess. but you don’t know where you are-“

“it’s not like i could get lost.” she hiccups but allows him to pull her into the kitchen, gently push her into the chair.

“wouldn’t put it past you.” he hums gently as he places a hand next to her as if she’s a dog and making sure she isn’t going to move-before retreating to a well decorated refrigerator, adorned with magnets and postcards, coming back with a bottle of water that he twists off with the bottom of his shirt before sliding it to her.

“not thirsty.”

she goes to push it away but guesses where it is incorrectly and almost knocks it off before hasan catches it barely in time.

he holds in the sigh for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“one sip.”

“i’m not a child, hasan.” she goes to bat it out of the way but misses again, knocks some onto her lap.

“nooo,” she moans, eyes watering again, “my shirts ruined.”

she pulls at the stained sweater as if she’s seeing the red wine stains for the first time.

“i’ll make you a deal, princess.” he sits in the chair next to her and leans in close enough to her for her to smell his cologne: “you drink half this water and i’ll get you a new shirt.”

she hiccups, weighs the options.

“Tempting, i know.” he sing songs, holds the water out to her, and too tired to argue she rolls her eyes and accepts it.

“fine,” she huffs, “only so you’ll shut up.”

he nods, zips his lips, throws the key over his shoulder: “you stay here,” he continues, “don’t move.”

“i bet you were really bad at the quiet game growing up.”

finally, a laugh breaks through: light, carries through the house and she’s glad, even in a drunken state, that she hasn’t been too mean to him.

as soon as the sight of his yellow sweater disappears from view she makes her way to the front room, where the untouched vinyls and book jackets lay. her fingers run over the spines, worn with use and time, well loved and she cracks one open and sees the folded pages, the slanted writing in the margins. when the world becomes shaky and slanted again she holds onto them fireplace, the table, the side of the couch until she allows herself to collapse onto the couch, on her back as she rests the book on her belly-

“magic and love have two things in common, namely how easy both are to fuck up-“

her lips move as her eyes try to focus on the pages, on the small type and the way the words appear off the page dance and wave around in the air in front of her

“-which is exactly why she swore both off-“

the sound of the book hitting the floor doesn’t stir her. eyes heavy and fallen already, she falls into the drunken stupor that threatened to happen for hours.

rooms away, hasan knew the second he heard the fall what happened

“fucker.”

slowly, he folds the shirt in his hands, makes his way to the kitchen and grabs the untouched water, the bottle of aspirin out of the counter. finds the notepad shoved in his junk drawer and uses his nicest writing to try and ease her mind when she wakes up:

you fell asleep on the couch and i didn’t want to wake you. you’re at the neighbor with the loud musics house (hasan) bathroom is upstairs on the left. feel free to take this shirt for your stained one. Take three aspirins. my room is upstairs on the right if you need anything. you’re free to go when you wake up, but i do make an amazing omelette. get me if you need anything. -h

he shoves it with the shirt before he can second guess it. makes his way to the front room and sets the water, note and shirt on the table. picks the book up and sets it next to it. grabs the blanket over the back of the couch and throws it over her gently, holds his breath to see if she stirs and when he doesn’t, makes his way upstairs, hoping his morning starts with making an omelette.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! I adore this blog! I'm looking for M/M jealous or possesive crowley fic recommendations if you have them.

Hi. We have #jealous crowley and #possessive crowley tags, please check those first! Here are more to add to the collection...

(Not) Jealous by jinxyble (G)

Crowley's not jealous. Why would he be? Because somebody was flirting with -his- angel, invading -his- territory?

Alright, so, maybe just a little bit jealous.

Jealous Burning Desire by Fantasyinallforms (E)

Aziraphale gets sent on a romantically complicated mission and Crowley thinks Aziraphale is falling in love. I'm bad at summaries so here's a snippet.

He let the rain soak through his clothes as he walked, ducking briefly into a package store on the way to requisition a bottle of gin. He drank as he walked. Crowley’s thoughts ran wild in his head. This faceless man was getting to watch Aziraphale fawn over books, exchange shy touches, and Satan forbid getting to watch him eat. What else was he being allowed to do that even Crowley had never been given the honor. Was this Byron getting to run his hands over the angels smooth pastel skin, feel the softness of his lips. The clear picture of Aziraphale's head thrown back in lust gripping the sheets around him formed in his mind and he shattered the bottle of gin in his hands.

Truth or Dare by MirjamOmens (E)

“Let’s ask questions, like Truth or Dare!”

Crowley burst out laughing. “You do realize what you are getting into?” he said, “I could dare you to all manners of sins, it's called tempting, I’m a professional!”

“I’m not going to pick a dare, silly!” Aziraphale chuckled. “And you aren’t either, just the questions!”

“It’s not the Truth or Dare then!” Crowley objected, still laughing.

Aziraphale waved his hand to indicate something about not caring the least.

“Do you not want to play then?”

got a pretty face, pretty boyfriend too by KissMyAsthma & leukozyna (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley are next-door neighbours. They’ve been attracted to each other since they met. The only thing keeping them apart is a thin wall between their bedrooms and Atticus and Freddie, Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s respective life partners… or are they?

A human AU glued together by misunderstandings and wet food.

Sweet as Honey: An angel's guide to seducing your sugar daddy by angelsnuffbox (E)

It was one thing to suddenly learn that you had a sugar daddy, and a whole other to realise you’ve been in love with him for more than a year. But Aziraphale couldn’t be blamed for it, exactly. He’d had other worries on his mind. But with this new epiphany came another question that now had to be addressed: If Crowley was his sugar daddy, why on earth weren’t they having sex?

Just Like Heaven by AngeliqueTombee (E)

Aziraphale Fell finds himself foisted upon a new dorm mate at University who has a notorious history of making said roommates disappear. Whether it's his loud music, need for dark, or overall sarcastic nature, Crowley always manages to run them off before they become an issue.

But...this one seems different. His wit is sharp, and his knives aren't far behind. He may seem like an old silly, but this one may just be the wake-up call Crowley - and his motley band of ne'er-do-wells - needs.

- Mod D

[seekforwarmth]

hello and welcome to this month’s fic rec featuring my favourite works from what i’ve read during the past weeks. as always, please check tags before reading. if you liked the fics please reblog their posts, leave kudos and write a nice comment. happy reading! 🔒 = only for ao3 users rec tag | more rec lists

— harry/louis —  

໑ Bitter Ends Turn Sweet (series) by @allwaswell16 𓂅 Yours and Mine (T, 1.5k, established relationship, sequel) 𓂅 In Time (M, 2.6k, established relationship, prequel)

໑ you made my heart stop by dragmedown / @itsnothesameasitwas (G, 6.1k, heartstopper au) Don’t you ever feel like your life has been perfectly composed until one day it wasn’t, that everything seemed more than fine but it was not, because sometimes as simple as it might sound or look, it could change your life?

໑ On That Note by @allwaswell16 (E, 6.2k, coworkers, a/b/o au) Louis’ office job on an omega only floor would be absolutely fine, if not for the alphas he and his friends have to deal with in the building. But although they’ve never met face to face, the friendly notes sent between him and Harry in Purchasing help him get through the day. ໑ your right now, your forever, your last call, your whatever by localopa / @waterloux (M, 6.2k, friends to lovers, a/b/o au) “we should kiss.” so they kiss.

໑ Faded From This Touch by @allwaswell16 (E, 7k, strangers to lovers, famous/not famous au) Pop star Louis Tomlinson is about to make his long awaited return to music. Unfortunately, his label and manager feel his long hair isn't in tune with his pop star image. When Louis goes to get a hair cut at a posh London salon, he unexpectedly finds a very handsome reason to keep returning.

໑ One Day You'll Say These Words by @allwaswell16 (M, 11.6k, friends to lovers, aristocracy au) Growing up together in Yorkshire has led to a lifelong friendship between Louis Tomlinson, the future Marquess of Rotherham, and Harry Styles, the heir to a viscount. When Harry suddenly inherits his uncle’s title and estate much earlier than expected, Louis must watch his friend struggle under the weight of these new responsibilities, including searching for a wife with a dowry large enough to save his estate. However, sitting idly by as Harry looks for a bride brings some unexpected feelings to the surface.

໑ Dive (series) by @allwaswell16 (E, 21k, strangers to lovers, famous/famous au) Newly retired football star, Louis Tomlinson has left Manchester for Malibu. Along the way, he finds music, friendship, and love in the form of his pop star neighbour and the very fit movie star hiding out next door. 𓂅 I Could Fall or I Could Fly 𓂅 Hanging On the Words You Say 𓂅 Before I Dive Right Into You 𓂅 Let Me Know the Truth 𓂅 Jumping in Harder Than Ten Thousand Rocks on the Lake

໑ When We Were Young (series) by @allwaswell16 (E, 24k, former classmates reuniting, summer au) The one where Harry helps out at a farmer’s market and gives Louis free vegetables. 𓂅 Sound Like a Song 𓂅 Look Like a Movie (prequel)

໑ 🔒 'cause I want you (for the worse and for the better) by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense (NR, 26.3k, friends to lovers, fake/pretend relationship a/b/o au) When Louis gets invited along to Anne's wedding, Harry is prepared to let people think whatever they want about their relationship. That's what Louis said -- let people think whatever they want. That changes when Louis sees his ex, who turns out to be Anne's future husband's son. Now, Louis wants to prove that he's an omega that an alpha could want, and Harry wants to get through this weekend without letting his best friend figure out he's in love with him.

໑ follow rivers (series) by @outropeace (E, 85k, exes to lovers) 𓂅 deep sea, baby (E, 28k, break up/getting together, au within the au, sort of prequel)

໑ Epiphany by Jennifer_Kaid / @poetsreprieve (E, 30k, enemies to lovers, 1980s au, italy) It was the summer of 1984 when Harry inherited his grandfather's estate and wealth. San Gimignano was a Tuscan village in Italy where he decided to move for final. That was it, that was where he would love, marry and live. His professor from college had retired in the village and lived with his family, so it was only natural that he bought a house next to his.

Never in the world had he imagined that his professor would have fathered the most beautiful boy; a nineteen year old lad with the knowledge of everything. The boy never failed to get on his nerves with his snarky comments and sun-kissed skin. It was impossible to resist his growing affection.

໑ Men of Steel, Men of Power by Stria / @nooradeservedbetter (E, 59k, coworkers, politics, hiding identity, a/b/o au) Louis has one goal: survive this year unscathed to complete his grand plan, for which he has sacrificed his family, his friends. His identity. he's not expecting Alpha Harry, who manages to get under his skin and inside his heart. He suddenly has a lot more to lose, and a lot less control.

໑ Such Good Luck by @casuallyhl (E, 66k, secret established relationship, 1910s au, mpreg louis) An Edwardian AU where Harry is a young aristocratic lord and Louis is a working class dairy farmer. Secrets are a necessary part of their relationship, but Louis has one that could topple their whole world.

໑ king of my heart by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze (E, 83k, friends to lovers, royalty au, secret relationship) A Red, White, and Royal Blue AU where Hollywood elite, Louis Tomlinson, finds himself falling for the closeted Prince of England.

໑ so tenderly by frenchkiss (E, 135k, strangers to lovers, famous/not famous, a/b/o au) A soulmate AU where two lovers find each other entirly by accident, featuring photoshoots, Gucci suits, too many takeaways, having sex and feeling sad, an alpha who feels lost, and the omega that finds him. It shouldn't be this easy, but it is. 𓂅 Call Out My Name 𓂅 Slipping Through Our Fingers (sequel)

— rare pairs —  

໑ Do You Smile To Tempt a Lover by @allwaswell16 (louis/nick grimshaw, E, 18k, coworkers, british museum, coffee shop au) Nick Grimshaw is entranced by Louis, his very beautiful, very cheeky new coworker at The National Portrait Gallery. He watches him day after day, wondering what he’s furiously typing on his laptop over lunch. With a little help from the very bored barista in the gallery cafe, Nick finds himself growing closer to Louis than he ever dreamed possible.

[mintyaquagreen1675]

You're Just in time for the games Nicky boy.

[atripandahalf]

we are each waves and also the ocean

(ao3) (au link)

It was a quiet day in the neighbourhood, and Barnaby looked out the window from his kitchen. The sun was shining, it was about midday... and the neighbours were throwing a party?

part of my mlpth au for welcome home but can be read as standalone! please send me asks about this AU :)

tags: barnaby-centric, minor references to hello puppets, fluff

It was a quiet day in the neighbourhood, and Barnaby looked out the window from his kitchen. The sun was shining, it was about midday, and he had just got back from the shops, where Howdy was busy working. He was spending the early afternoon washing and preparing the fruit and vegetables he had just bought. The chopping motions were soothing, and it was warm enough that he could leave his window open. The neighbour felt like it bustled more than the farm back home ever did, with all its chatter and gossip, and its contact with the other local neighbourhoods. Plenty of people visited their neighbourhood, either to shop or to simply chat with the residents and so there was always noise, the space always lively, and all the houses were close enough together that the lively chatter could be heard from Barnaby's house. And it was always pleasant. The noise got louder, reaching a crescendo, and Barnaby wiped off his hands before walking out into the town centre.

The town centre was, in actuality, pretty small, just like the neighbourhood, but to Barnaby, it seemed huge. There was a fountain in the centre, but the space was also filled with familiar faces - and a few new ones. The plaza was filled with the sound of music, as what Barnaby recognised as one of Julie's siblings if the hair was anything to go by, was singing into a microphone. They were shorter than Barnaby, although that was hardly saying much, and wore a ruffled dress, that faded from orange to yellow, making them look more like a sunset than a puppet, especially with that sparkle in their eye. The melody was bright, and almost jazz-like in the swing of it, and it made you want to get up and start moving, which some of the other people in the square appeared to have already been doing. Barnaby watched Eddie coax Frank into dancing, Julie pushing him further into dancing quite literally, as he stumbled into Eddie's open arms. Frank's face was blushing bright red, and he moved a little awkwardly, yet Eddie just seemed to find it more endearing as he whisked him away to the swing of the music. Frank accidentally hit Wally in an attempt to follow Eddie's dance moves, letting out a very strangled, "Sorry!" as he went by. Wally just smiled back, in what Barnaby thought was that adorable way of his, and continued talking to somebody that Barnaby had never seen before.

He was an older man, his hair greyed and sticking out on either side of his head, with a little purple top hat resting on his head. He was wearing an old-fashioned suit, in a dark cool purple, and that, paired with his monocle, made him feel slightly out of place within the Neighbourhood. There was a woman standing next to him, with a mop of ginger hair on her head, and in a very badly stained lab coat - a scientist of some sort, then - who seemed to want to interject but thought better of it, and kept rolling her eyes at her companion's answers. She kept moving her hands oddly, seemingly seeking something to hold on to at her hip, and coming up short. These people seemed to be new to the neighbourhood, but somehow knew Wally - were they old friends, or even his family perhaps? Barnaby had always thought it odd that Wally had never mentioned any of his relatives, but he didn't want to open a can of worms that Wally would rather he didn't, so he never asked, but by the looks of it they were close, with Wally listening intently to the mans every word, and even when the woman interjected with a snide comment towards him, Wally would laugh good-naturedly. They seemed to be... okay.

Just next to their little group, Howdy was leaning outside the open window of his shop, talking to Sally and Poppy. Howdy made eye contact with Barnaby and waved, and Barnaby walked on over.

"Hey y'all, how's it going?" Barnaby greeted standing on the other side of Howdy, across from Sally and Poppy. The stand seemed to have changed what it was selling since Barnaby was here earlier and now had an array of snacks and drinks, and there was even a small freezer full of ice cream and lollies. Clearly, everyone was celebrating something, and Barnaby was so confused as to how he could have missed it.

Howdy greeted him warmly and offered him a drink. Barnaby accepted and let the conversation wash over him. As he sipped his drink, he caught up with his friends, listening to their stories about the latest happenings in the neighbourhood. The party was in full swing, and Barnaby felt grateful to be a part of such a close-knit and welcoming community.

Suddenly, the music stopped, and a voice boomed through the speakers. "Neighbours and friends, may I have your attention please?" It was Wally, his striped suit glinting in the daylight. "Thank you for coming out today. Our neighbourhood is truly a special place, and events like this remind us of that!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, and the music started up again. Barnaby felt a sense of belonging and happiness wash over him as he danced and laughed with his neighbours. He knew that he had made the right choice in moving to this neighbourhood, and he felt lucky to call it his home. Although, he still had no idea what the event was for.

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Do you think the music video “Sleep Well” is canon to Poppy Playtime, and is it canon for your AU?

Also, I wish instead of including all this ARG (like Theodore’s tragic tale that had no reason to not be in the actual game) and extra stuff just for hype purposes and promoting their YouTube content, Mob Entertainment would instead make the game have a stronger story by just putting that stuff in there, either in the main plot or by making the player find it like the VHS tapes…I have many issues with them as a company…

I just hope the actual canon sticks to a morally gray conflict with no chickening out, and maybe even have our antagonist be somewhat sympathetic, no matter whether the ending is good or bad for all parties involved…I’m just kinda dreading/expecting that there will be huge open ends/dangling plot threads or even a sequel hook so the franchise can be milked even further than it has been, especially with that movie in the works…

I just saw that music video, and... Honestly it's a nice song, but I dont think any of it adds up to anything lore wise? And oh my God, I can't agree enough with you regarding all the ARG stuff.

As someone who's ALSO making a mascot horror game, and also as someone who had their brain rewired at age 11 thanks to FNaF's, I am SO tired of games pulling the mysterious/obtuse lore on us. Mob (as in, the company, not the poor probably overworked gamedevs) cannot deal with the idea of their game actually having cohesive lore and impactful moments that aren't shock value. Everyone loved chapter 3 not because it was a masterpiece, but because it's actually a decent horror fucking game. Of course chapter 3 is good, chapter 1 was a paid demo and chapter 2 was almost Hello Neighbour levels of fun! Of course chapter 3 is good, it's actually trying to be a horror game instead of a YouTube Kids content farm product!

Chapter 3 of Poppy Playtime lacks any impact that isn't shock value. That's it. And yes, I disliked chapter 3 so much it reverse engineered me into making an AU where everyone lives because fuck this awful shock content logic!

I want the canon to stick to a morally grey conflict as well. I WANT Prototype to have an actual point and for him to be a tragic character, I WANT the game to show us that maybe Poppy isn't as good as she wants us to believe, and I WANT the game to pick all of this and still go "but what the Prototype did was wrong, and we need to put an end to this carnage". But, c'mere, look at me.

I have no faith this will actually happen.

That's it! Zero faith, nothing, nada! I was expecting nothing out of chapter 3 and STILL managed to be dissapointed. I doubt Poppy Playtime will ever try to have an interesting story inside the chapters, much less an actually compelling conflict. At this point I'm just seeing where Mob Youtube Kids Content Farm Entertainment will do to destroy any future opportunities of something compelling.

Also. I would have liked chapter 3 way more if we actually saw Theo go from being Theo into becoming Catnap, with his death scene being PAINFUL to watch after spending the entire chapter learning how he became Catnap.

[captain-rickbond]

I have actually several questions if you don't mind? :') (they're mostly about rickbond though, don't worry!) what's an AU and/or trope which suits you for ben and larry the most? coffee shop AU, enemies to lovers, university AU...? who out of those two is more likely to be the household cook? who's more likely to confess they like the other first? or do they do it at the same time? who's the golden retriever and who's the black cat in the relationship? what's an event/activity larry would try and force ben into? and what would be something ben would make larry do? And my final questions are for you and your art and writing specifically: what's a fic you would like to write/are currently writing, but can't seem to finish? do you have any WIPs that you wouldn't mind sharing bits and pieces of? :> when and where do you usually create your drawings? Love your work, I hope you're having a good day! ^^

Hi! okay, here we go:

Favourite AU/trope?

I wrote a coffee shop AU, assassins/hitmen AU and I'm writing three more: bar/pub AU, traumatic as hell AU, and post apocalyptic dystopian world AU (yes, you read that right) - one thing in common for all this stories - awkward first meeting and… friends to lovers? And basically idiots in love trope

Household cook?

Let me answer this way - in one of my wips Laz tries to open a can with a fork and cuts his finger, so…

Who's more likely to confess first?

It seems obvious - Laz is the one to make the first move- wait, now when I actually think about it, it's Ben (in my fics) that's almost always seems to snap first

Golden retriever/black cat?

Laz is the golden retriever, Ben is the cat

Event/activity one would force the other into?

Laz would make Ben attend a cosplay event, they both would be dressed as stormtroopers so no one would know it's them. (I definitely have not started on a drawing with them as stormtroopers…)

Ben would make Larry throw away all of his lego sets boxes bc they clutter the space and-

"Laz, have you actually deassembled any of this and put it back into a box? Like ever? Because if not, we're throwing it all awa-"

"-but-"

"-this way we're gonna have more space for new sets."

"…"

"…"

"Okay."

What I am currently writing?

I have 11 wips, and I would love to finish ANY of them… some are too short, some are way too long. There are funny ones (I hope), and hot ones. Every story has an unhealthy amount of angst, and one is sad as hell

When and where do I draw?

I draw at night, I don't really have time during the day. I take my ipad to bed, snuggle in with my cat, put some music on (I can't be left alone with my thoughts) and I draw until I hear my neighbour slam the door outside - every day at 4am - and then I go to sleep and wake up at 8 to go to work

A fragment of my crazy rickbond post apocalyptic dystopian world AU wip ↴

“Hey.”

Larry looked up, yanking out the cloth stuck behind the waistband of his pants, and wiping his greasy hands on it.

“…”

“Well, hello Ben! How was your day? Have you killed someone over a piece of junk again, today?”

Larry rolled his eyes and placed his hand on the seat of the bike, pushing himself off the ground with a huff.

“What you want?”

“A bit of tenderness?”

“Don’t we all?” Larry whispered under his breath and threw the cloth on the ground. “You got something for me?”

Ben sent him a small smile and pulled out a rusty bit of metal from behind his back.

“Happy birthday.” He waved his hand in front of Larry’s face.

“It’s not my birthday.” The younger man grumbled and snatched the part from Ben’s hand.

“Every day is your birthday when you get gifts like that,” Larry sighed and placed the part on the seat of the bike. “and you didn’t tell me when your birthday is, so I’m gonna celebrate it every day.”

“Are you done? I’ve got work to do.”

“Oh… come on,” Ben chuckled. “I know it’s all fucked up but at least we can laugh about it, right?”

Larry looked up and frowned.

“Right…”

Ben walked over and sat on a wooden crate, placing his elbows on his knees and releasing a deep sigh.

Okay, so is he planning on just sitting here?

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Ben raised his head and smiled sadly.

“Not really.”

Okay, great.

The bike Larry was working on was actually his for once. He was grounded. All because of the damaged needle valve - small piece of shit that you can’t actually fix. You have to get a new one to even start the fucking engine.

Larry made a promise to himself.

Once he’ll get one, he will leave.

“Can you go be annoying somewhere else?” Larry dropped to his knees and fidgeted with one of the cables sticking out from behind the seat of the bike.

“You’re being mean, I thought you're a nice guy,” Ben sounded defeated. “aren’t you?”

“No,” Larry muttered. “I’m not.”

...

───

this may be the weirdest thing I’ve ever written, blame the Mad Max movies

[sodapops0lstice]

Intro Post!

Because I've never made an actually good one...

Favs! Blinkies & Stamps! Sprite Drive!COMMS!!!! Classic Era Say hello to me!

@badlydrawndirk @badlydrawnjade @ectobio @our-fav-hs-char @alternian-life-advice @aviansaffection @arethesewordsinhomestuck @fuckyeahhomestuckladies @the-gang-makes-a-blog

⬆️I run all those ⬆️

My tags:

#soda's minifridge <- wishlist

#fizzes <- asks

#solar systems <- original posts

#neighbouring stars <- mutuals and pals

#grubpeta <- my earth c au

#cure pop <- PreCure Tag

#splatstuck <- Splatoon x Homestuck au

#jo au <- My fluff au where Joey takes care of Jade

#candy bowl for roxanne <- posts for my good chum and friend roxanne of marinealcoholic fame

#meteorites <- queued posts

#lesbian danny devito <- dog pics, block as needed

#the moon <- @dykemaxxing's very own tag for gay tomfoolery

Basic Stuff

I'm a freak by many a name. But I go by Soda, Cece, Admin, Ary, Xefros, Sol and Rezi mostly. Seriously. Any of those will do. Hell, I'll take new names aswell. Drop them name recommendations lmao

I'm 15 aswell, in Year 11. (I chose Triple Science, French and History if you wanted to know about my GCSE choices.)

I'm a lesbian and agender, which basically is me saying my gender changes for when it's funniest.

I use ALLLL the pronouns, even xenos and neos because I am badass and awesome. Literally anything goes.

I'm Scottish and Irish. Which is kinda cool, means I burn hella easy though which sucks ass.

I'm also autistic, I like to post about that.

I also also have depression and anxiety, I don't really care though because I'm balling 24/7 B)

Interests & Likes

Obvious is obvious but I'm a massssive Homestuck. That is primarily what I post/reblog. This includes Hiveswap/Hauntswitch

I also enjoy Pokémon. A lot. Like... 2200 hours on Ultra Sun alone enjoy.

Youkai Watch is also a big fav of mine. In fact, Youkai Watch 3 is one of my favourite games of all time!

I absolutely ADORE A Hat in Time! It is THE game for me. It means the world and everything to me.

Alongside AHIT, Undertale and Deltarune are some of my favs ever! (I don't cry everytime I replay UT what do you mean?)

In general, I'm a total loser for vidya. I can do a quick rundown of the gaems I like but probably won't be reblogging often

Crash Bandicoot

Kleptocats

Touhou

Gmod

Sonic

Papa's -rias

FNAF

Animal Crossing

Half Life

Persona 5

I don't often watch many series or movies. But there's a special place in my heart for Invader Zim, The Owl House, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Eddsworld and My Little Pony. I'm also super excited for the new Scott Pilgrim show :D

It's strange to say but I have a keen interest in reality shows. This means Gogglebox, Come Dine with Me, Four in a Bed, Kitchen Nightmares (both versions) and Impractical Jokers. Only the lord knows why. I think it's the autism. It's probably the autism.

I'm a fan of Pretty Cure aswell! Those girls are so beegitful <3 in those dresses... Yes I found out about it through Glitter Force but that doesn't change anything. Another anime I also love is Pop Team Epic that show irreversibly changed my sense in humour. I've been getting into MHA and Chainsaw Man aswell.

I also adore!!! Vocaloid it literally makes up 50% of my music taste. I black out and wake up with 20 new pieces of miku merch lmao

Music

I have a lot of different music interests! But my all time favourite band ever is Qbomb! I adoreeeee them to infinity. I literally don't know what my favourite Qbomb song is because they're all so good.

But! Qbomb doesn't have my fav song, that honour goes to Stacked Like Pancakes and their song SFDD. It's a really high energy ska song that I recommend highly. (You won't regret listening to it!)

Instead of just listing my spotify stats here, I'm gonna just get some images of those funky websites instead :)

Obviously this isn't completely accurate since this is from my entireeee spotify history. But it's basically all there!

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Chapter seventeen

Young!Silver Rayleigh x reader. Modern AU. NSFW for sex and violence.

*****

Imagine moving to live in a mountain chalet to escape the bustle of the big city. Your small house is situated in the middle of the woods, the closest -small-ish- town reachable by car but quite isolated, which suits you just fine. You spend most of your days writing at your laptop, reading in front of the fireplace and taking long nature walks.

Beyond the occasional hiker, some of whom knock on your door to ask directions back to the town after losing their way, the only person you meet semi-regularly is your only neighbour, owner and resident of the only other chalet in the area, only a couple miles away from yours: Silvers Rayleigh. 

You had no idea there was someone living within walkable distance of you, but the day after your arrival you heard ringing at the door, went to open thinking it was the mailman since you knew no one in town and it was too early for your friends from the city to come visit… and found yourself face to face with this tall, imposing man, neck-length blond hair and dark eyes still piercing despite the barrier of his reading glasses.

“Hello. Name’s Rayleigh, I live nearby. I saw your car pass by, and since we’re the only two people crazy and clever enough to come live in this corner of the world, I thought I’d introduce myself. You need help with moving in?”

You are favourably impressed by his friendly but direct approach, the exact opposite of what you got used to in the decades you spent living in the city; you tell him that no, you have everything under control since you brought only the essentials from your old home and you’ll be done moving everything to its new place by the end of the day, but you appreciate the offer, and are glad to meet him.

You and Rayleigh become acquainted over a cup of tea in your freshly stocked kitchen. Like you, he moved to the mountains in search of peace and quiet after decades spent living in a large city; you tell him you’re a novelist, which means you are free to work at home as long as you have your laptop with you and an internet connection, while Rayleigh is the owner of a small but successful coating business, and has left day-to-day operations to his colleagues to visit his old workshop once in a while. 

You feared Rayleigh would resent you for having come to interrupt his solitary life in the woods -not that you’re a particularly noisy person, nor the sort who listens to loud music at all hours, not to mention your chalets are two miles away from each other, but still- but he seems genuinely happy to have met you. Both well aware of the risks of living miles away from the closest urban centre, you exchange telephone numbers, to be able to call each other in case of need, and spend most of the afternoon talking. 

A quiet friendship soon blossoms between you. Rayleigh is, just like you, a lone wolf, content with his own company, but apart from the fact even the most reclusive man feels the need to exchange words with another human being once in a while, you seem able to spend time together without getting on each other’s nerves. You meet for a drink at your or his place, and Rayleigh accompanies you to explore the mountains, the experience much more engaging and pleasant than if you had gone alone with your map and compass; he’s the sort of person who knows when to talk, when to listen, and when the best thing to do is simply to remain silent, a gift you rarely found among the people of your old life, and you often spend hours talking or simply enjoying each other’s company. 

You gradually learn to know the people of the small town, salespeople you do business with and a few women your age, but you don’t feel the need to build closer relationships; Rayleigh is different, and even though you never discuss it openly, you know it’s the same for him. 

One day, months after you moved to the mountains, you visit Rayleigh’s chalet to return the drill you had borrowed to mount a few shelves on a wall -there are a few men in town who could have done it for a small price, but you decided you might as well learn to do it by yourself, and did a more than decent job- and as you sit on the sofa waiting for the tea he’s making, you notice a book on the table next to you - your first book, that you published when you were only twenty-one.

“I, err, bought it online; I was curious to read what you wrote.” Rayleigh admits, looking suddenly embarrassed as he rubs the back of his neck with his hand “Sorry, maybe I… shouldn’t have?”

“Of course not! I am flattered, like any novelist would be knowing someone has read her book. Did you, err, like it? You can tell me you didn’t, I won’t get offended, and my style was still a bit acerbic back then…”

The truth is you would have been supremely disappointed to learn Rayleigh disliked your work, or even worse was left indifferent by it, but he seems sincere in saying that he loves it, finds the story compelling and original, and your writing style elegant and engaging. “I haven’t finished it yet thought; I just finished chapter seventeen.”

Chapter seventeen, you remember perfectly even though you consigned the manuscript of that novel to your newly found agent decades ago, contains the most explicit, steamy, downright lurid sex scene you have ever written, a passionate encounter between your protagonist -a female novelist- and a mysterious man who has captivated her heart soon after their first meeting. You’re usually not the sort of writer who takes inspiration from her own life, but chapter seventeen was the exception, even though unfortunately those had been dreams -the wet sort- and fantasies rather than real events. You normally wouldn’t mind discussing it in any case, your readers are mostly adults and there’s nothing wrong with writing and reading about sex…

But then why are you blushing furiously at the thought that Rayleigh has read that particular section of your book? And it’s not either as short as some of your other chapters are, no less than twenty pages of explicit filth and intense lovemaking, three rounds of it…!

Your only consolation is that Rayleigh is blushing as well, even though he seems unable to stop smiling as he looks at you; you don’t need to be a mind-reader to realise he’s imagining you in the place of your character, and perhaps himself in that of her love interest, and that makes you feel… well, something you had thought you would never experience again as you left your youth behind you to fully enter middle-age. It’s somehow surprising; but the sort of surprise you can’t help but appreciate.

For a whole minute neither of you feels able to speak as you gaze at each other, until the sound of kettle whistling in the kitchen puts an end to a tense, and only vaguely awkward, silence. You enjoy your tea as you discuss your tastes in books, and an hour later you leave to return home, suddenly in a good, almost giddy mood. 

*

You have enjoyed your first four months in your new home, more inspired to write than you remember having been in years and enjoying long walks in nature, when suddenly that almost idyllic life you had built comes crashing down, or at least suffers a serious setback, on an apparently peaceful night of early summer.

You are sleeping soundly in your bed when a sudden noise wakes you up, followed by a drunken laugh; in a daze you reach out for your bedside lamp to switch it on, rise, peek out of the room, and observe a terrible scene: three men you have never seen before, all wearing biker jackets and heavy boots, are in your living room, drinking from the bottles in their hands -one has a baseball bat as well, another a large hunting knife hanging from his belt- and breaking your things for the simple pleasure of doing it. 

Your home, your peaceful little chalet, has been invaded; what can you do? Call the police? The closest station is at least twenty miles away, and given the state of the mountain roads it might take the agents a full hour to reach you, but you can’t let these men destroy your home! But you are alone, unharmed, and the men must have noticed your car parked outside, which means they know there is someone here…

“Who do you think lives here?” one of the men suddenly asks, as if he had just read your mind, and then another, who had spent the last minutes meticulously breaking all the framed pictures and diplomas hanging from your walls, turns swiftly, and you’re not quick enough to back away in the hallway. The men grin.

“Hello, darling.” the one who saw you first says “Hope you don’t mind if we came in. Why don’t we all have a bit of fun?”

The easiest, safest thing to do would be to barricade yourself in your bedroom, whose heavy door could withstand the onslaught, and call the police with the phone on your bedside table, but one of the men is quick to approach and, as you move away to stop him from grabbing you, he puts himself on the doorway connecting the living room to the hallway, blocking your path.

“Come on, darling… if you’re good I promise we’ll let you live…”

The five minutes that follow are the most terrifying of your life, and you seriously doubt you’ll live to tell the story, or that you’ll survive unscathed; the men, laughing and jeering, play with you like cats with a mouse, grabbing and pushing you, but finally, taking advantage of a moment of inattentiveness, you grab an empty bottle from the floor and smash it against the face of one of them. 

You run, faster than you’ve ever run in your life, you run as if you had all the demons of Hell after you, and as the threats and shouts of the men follow you. Barefoot, wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and shorts, you reach the house door, fortunately left open after the intrusion, and pass it, disappearing into the still cold summer night.

By the time you have reached Rayleigh’s house, you’re freezing, and limping, still terrified the men could catch up with you, even though you have chosen a narrower, less easy to find path on which even their bikes, that you have seen parked in front of the house, might be unable to ride along. Sobbing quietly, shaking, you ring the bell, and your friend’s expression when he comes at the door expresses all the horror he must feel.

“Oh my God! (name), what happened to you?”

“I… I…” you stammer, and then you’re unable to say more, but you burst into tears, tears of fear and relief at the same time, reaching out for Rayleigh, who quickly takes you in his arms and accompanies you inside. 

A minute later you’re sitting on the sofa -once again there’s one of your books on the table next to it; the fourth, that Rayleigh insists on buying online even though you offered to lend or even gift him the copy of each you brought with you from your old home, in case you had to check your references writing a sequel or whether a scene you’re planning is too similar to one you already published- with a blanket on your shoulders and a water bottle in your hand.

Your sobs have calmed down enough to allow you to tell Rayleigh what happened; when you tell him that you are hurt, but not hurt, you see his large shoulders sag in relief, but your friend’s expression remains grim. “That it should happen to you.” he murmurs in the end.

“Well, we’re the only two people in a twenty mile radius, and I’m not wishing this to you…”

“You know what I mean. I… shit, this is horrible; but I promise you are safe now, and I’ll stay with you until the police come.”

Rayleigh remains where you can see him while he carries out a short but very grim, judging by his expression, conversation over the phone; then he returns to you, and says that the agents will go directly to your chalet and they will warn you once they have ascertained that it’s safe to come back.

Rayleigh gets to work to make you as comfortable as he can. His clothes don’t exactly fit you, but the night is too cold for you to remain half-naked as you are, and his heavy jumper and trousers are, if not comfortable, at least warm. The main source of pain is your poor feet, bleeding after two miles hobbling down a mountain path; you use the contents of Rayleigh’s first aid kit to clean and bandage the wounds, and then put a pair of heavy socks on. 

“I can make some tea if you want; I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for a while.” he offers then, and while already feeling guilty for all the trouble you’re causing him -it’s the middle of the night, and no matter how fond you are of each other you’re ready to bet Rayleigh would gladly return to his bed to sleep rather than playing nurse to you- a hot, calming tea is exactly what you need, since you can’t seem to stop shaking - more out of shock than cold.

“I’m sorry for all of this.” you whisper sadly as you follow him to the kitchen, unable to stand a distance of more than a few feet between you “But I couldn’t grab my phone nor my car keys, and didn’t know where else to go.”

“Are you kidding? (name), of course you did the right thing coming here. I’m… glad I can help.”

He seems so sincere, so earnest in his pure and genuine desire to support you, that whatever apology you were about to offer dies on your lips. 

You drink your tea sitting on the sofa, wrapped in your blanket, Rayleigh’s arm heavy and comforting on your shoulders, a gesture both of you would have considered inappropriate in any other circumstance but that here, and now, feels perfect, naturally offered and gratefully accepted.

“Has anything like this ever happened before?” you ask after a while, more because you can’t stand the silence than out of genuine curiosity; by this time the agents must have reached your home, but you can’t bear to think about the damages the three intruders could have caused in your chalet, that you had lovingly furnished and in which you felt at home, safe and protected, even just a few months after moving in.

“Not at all; I would have warned you otherwise. The worst I ever witnessed in a decade I have spent here was a band of campers who played loud music and poached a few buzzards in the woods, and a hunter who shot a doe and then left the carcass in the middle of the road. When I think of what could have happened to you… but you were good at defending yourself; good, and very brave.”

A tiny smile blossoms on your lips, his words of praise making you feel marginally better when you could have sworn nothing could. “Well, I used one of their bottles, and you know what they say, when you make your bed…”

In the end, it takes a full hour before Rayleigh receives a call from the agents, announcing that the intruders have left, and that it’s safe for you to return. Having taken his two heavier coats, one for each, Rayleigh accompanies you outside and drives you back home.

“You are safe, alright?” he murmurs ten minutes later, opening the door and offering you his hand to get out “And I’m here with you. It’s going to hurt, but you can’t start healing if you don’t look at the wounds first.” 

You nod mutely, but you find strength in those words, enough to stand the sight of your home after the invasion. The whole place has been ransacked: the furniture in the living room, the kitchen and your bedroom has been kicked and knocked over, the framed pictures on the walls and the shelves on the wall broken to pieces, the curtains on the windows and the pillows of the sofa slashed. And then, of course, there’s the stealing: your laptop, on which all your work is stored, has miraculously survived unscathed, but the intruders have taken the money you kept in the bedside table, a few of your jewels including a ring you had received as a gift from your late mother and held great sentimental value, and even, absurd but true, your microwave oven.

The police agents take your statement, that you will have to repeat tomorrow at their station; you describe the men for them, already convinced they will never be found and your things are lost forever, and in the end the agents leave you and Rayleigh alone. 

He makes it clear that he’s not leaving, and that he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to spend the night at his place, but you are not going to let those - those bastards chase you out of your own home. You put some clean clothes on, and take a blanket and a pillow to sleep on the sofa; you offer to prepare a bed for him as well, but Rayleigh refuses, and it’s then that you notice his gun, that your friend keeps stuck in his belt, until now hidden by his coat.

“I’ve got a licence; and I never had to use it since I moved here, but I’d better be safe than sorry.” he tells you, and while uneasy at having a firearm in your home, you nod, accepting his reasoning.

You sleep badly that night, and when you wake up with a start after nodding off and lift yourself up from the sofa, you see Rayleigh standing near the window of the living room as he stares outside, lost in his thoughts, the dark of the night enveloping his body; he’s standing guard, probably aware it’s highly unlikely your tormentors will come back but unwilling to take any chance. He doesn’t notice you have awoken, but knowing he’s there makes you feel better - safer, enough to place your head back on the pillow, close your eyes and succumb to exhaustion as you finally fall asleep. 

*

The next day Rayleigh has to leave for a business trip; he’s due to be away for a week, and he offers to postpone it to remain help you, or to accompany you to the town’s only B&B, so that you don’t have to sleep alone in your home, still bearing the signs of the invasion.

You refuse both offers. “There is no reason; the home alarm will be installed tomorrow, and the sooner I start cleaning up and fixing everything that’s broken, the sooner I’ll be done. I’m fine, truly.” you assure him “And if I leave, or if I get used to needing someone else's presence to feel safe, I might never be able to live here alone again.”

Clearly unsure, Rayleigh finally acquiesces, and makes you promise to call him if you need help, or just want to talk. “Take care of yourself.” he says, and then he kisses your brow, something no one has ever done since you were ten, and that fills your heart with tenderness.

You start missing him a minute after he left, but you roll up your sleeves and get to work. You have a cutting-edge home alarm installed, complete with cameras surrounding the property and a panic button, and the home door replaced with a more secure sort; you clean the chalet from top to bottom, throw away the pieces of furniture that can’t be repaired, and visit a large shop in a nearby -well, an hour drive away- shop to buy some more, and to replace all the things you can’t use anymore, including your microwave oven. 

It costs you quite a lot of money, and it’s hard work, especially for a woman alone, but every little step forward, every new shelf installed or framed picture hung, makes you feel a little better, and back in control of your own life. You don’t plan on buying a gun like Rayleigh did, but in the end your home is certainly back to its original, cosy state, and the night before his return, for the first time since the accident, you sleep soundly in your bed, at ease once again in that place you initially feared you would never feel safe in again.

Rayleigh has left by train; you check the company’s website for the schedule, and make sure to be at his door before he is, having prepared the dishes he has shown to appreciate the most in the several occasions you have dined together. He must be very tired, but his face lights up when he sees you as he gets out of his car, joy and almost relief making him even more handsome than he normally is.

“You’re here!”

“I am, hope you don’t mind. How was your trip? I brought you dinner.”

You prepared more than enough, as you often do, so you end up eating together at his place; Rayleigh tells you of the state of his business, fortunately in good health as far as both number of clients and level of profits are concerned, and is happy to learn you have made your home more secure and once again livable. 

“So… it’s everything alright?”

“I think so; I still feel insecure at times, especially when some noise wakes me up in the middle of the night, but it gets a little better every day. From now on I’ll go back on focusing on my work, and I’ll leave this nightmare behind me.”

“I’m glad to know. I…” Rayleigh rubs the back of his head with his hand, suddenly awkward for some reason you can’t decipher “I must admit, I feared you would decide to leave, to move to town, or to go back to your old place in the city.”

You admit the thought had crossed your mind, but leaving would mean giving the men who have ransacked your home and tried to hurt you the win, which is the last thing you want. You love living at the chalet, and except for this accident, which as he said was a case in a million and not a common occurrence, you never had any reason to consider moving away. You made sure to be more protected at home, and now you’ll go back to enjoy the peace and beauty of the mountains…

And then there’s him; Rayleigh, who is different from any man, any person really, you have ever met, and is a positive aspect of your new life you hadn’t expected to find. If you were to move, he’s the thing you would miss the most, and one of the main reasons why you’re determined to remain. You can’t tell him; not yet at least, not so early after realising that delicate truth yourself, but in the privacy of your heart you know it, as surely as you know your name.

Rayleigh smiles at you; his hand leaves the fork to take yours over the table, the touch delicate, almost shy, but full of significance. “I’m glad you’re here, (name).”

“I’m going nowhere.” you tell him; it’s a promise, to you both “You have my word.”

* 

“Have you made arrangements about the wood?” Rayleigh asks you one day. You’ve met in town, both of you buying groceries, and decided to get a coffee before returning home. You have noticed the way the waitress looked at both of you as she served your table -coquettish towards Rayleigh, openly resentful towards you- while he ignored her, his dark eyes focused on you with an intensity that at times is able to make you feel flustered “For the winter, I mean.”

The day is chilly at best, the mid-autumn wind making you shiver unpleasantly as you leave the cosy warmth of your home or take your clothes off to get in the shower, but you can only imagine how terribly cold it will get in the heart of winter, when snow can fall for days and water freezes inside the pipes. There is a wood shed on the back of your chalet, where you found a little timber left from the previous owner, but you have already made arrangements with a logging company to have enough to last you through the winter, delivered directly to your house.

“They’ll come next Thursday.” you explain as you enjoy the content of your cup. 

“Good. You know how to chop it, yes?”

“... sorry?”

“Chop the wood, to put it in the shed.” Rayleigh explains, smiling gently in response to your flummoxed expression “The logging company will deliver the wood to your home, but they won’t put it in your shed; they usually leave it on the front porch, and the logs are usually too big to be used, and need to be chopped.”

“Oh… I had no idea…”

“It’s fine, it’s your first winter here.”

“Can I pay the logging company’s workers to do it for me?” you ask, suddenly aware of how naive you’ve been, not considering this little matter “I’m not even sure I have an axe…”

“You can try but they usually don’t do it, for insurance reasons, not to mention they’d overcharge you. It’s alright, I’ll do it.”

“... sorry?”

“I’ll chop your wood; just call me when they are done on Thursday.”

You insist that you can’t ask him to do that, easily imagining how tiring and time-consuming the job could be, even for a strong man like Rayleigh, but he remains undeterred, and looks supremely unimpressed when you offer to pay him for it. 

“We’re neighbours, living in an isolated area; it’s normal that we help each other.” he points out gently “Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

“Of course, but…”

“But, nothing, (name). It’s fine; if you really want to make it up to me, you can cook me dinner like you have done so many times already.”

You share a smile, and you’re about to say something when the waitress approaches. “Can I bring you guys anything else?” she asks, speaking in the plural form but openly ignoring you; you see Rayleigh tense, and suddenly his leg is pressing against yours under the table.

“No, thank you.” you answer firmly, also speaking without looking away from the man sitting in front of you “We have everything we need already.”

*

And that’s how, on the following Thursday, you find yourself with a full-blown mountain of wood spread on your driveway, and with Rayleigh, who came immediately after the logging company had left and you called him, ready to get to work. You brought him a bottle of water and a towel, and begged him to let you help him in any way you could, but he assured you he was fine and would be done before the end of the day - which, given the fact it’s barely early afternoon, could mean several hours.

“Please don’t overexert yourself. Have you eaten? Take as many breaks as you need, it’s alright if you want to finish tomorrow or any other day…”

“(name), I’m fine.” he reassures you, openly amused; his hand -which is just like him: broad and strong, the touch gentle but firm when it need be, and why are you suddenly hot, even though winter is only a few weeks away and you’ve gone outside without a coat?- is placed on your shoulder, the gesture chaste and reassuring but that for some reason is enough to make your heartbeat accelerate “I’ve done this for more than a decade every year, the last time only six days ago. I’ll be fine, and if I need to take a break I will, you have my word.”

Reassured but still vaguely embarrassed for the inconvenience you’re causing him, you leave Rayleigh to his axe and block, and return inside to get to work: your latest novel is almost ready, but during their latest call your agent has insisted you need to submit it as soon as possible, so as to have it ready for publication in time for Christmas. 

You sit in the living room, with your laptop and a cup of tea to sustain you, polishing your work and making sure even the smallest detail will satisfy your readers. You’re quite proud of this novel and usually capable of focusing on what you need to do, but today you’re unusually distracted, and the reason why you need to re-read the same line three times and to keep deleting what you just wrote because of yet another typo is not the noise of traffic out of your apartment or the loud music the lodger upstair is generously sharing with the whole complex, like when you still lived in the city…

It’s him. 

The soft thuds of the axe cutting the log and the two halves hitting the ground reach your ears; looking out of the window, you can see Rayleigh hard at work, the axe lifted above his head and then swiftly lowered for a neat cut. He’s been working for two hours without any sign of slowing down, and maybe you should insist he takes it easy, but concern is not the only impulse that leads you to abandon your work -and by now cold cup- to cross the living room, reach the house door and linger there, your shoulder resting against the jamb and your arms to your chest, to observe him closely like you would do with a really good show.

Which he really is. 

You had thought Rayleigh was attractive ever since your first meeting. Tall and imposing, he has the physique of a man who keeps fit more through an active lifestyle and working hard than going to the gym; he has broad shoulders, arms whose strength you got to admire every time he offered to bring your groceries and other heavy parcels inside, and a very pleasant to look at backside, especially when he wears a certain pair of heavy but form-fitting trousers. He has strawberry blonde hair, piercing brown eyes, and the sort of smile that makes dimples appear on his cheeks; he is without a doubt one of the handsomest men you have ever met, and no matter how sincerely you consider him a dear friend, you have grown increasingly aware of the fact the more time you spent together… and it has never been harder to keep your attraction under control than now that he’s on your front porch, naked from the waist up.

There is an unspoken elegance in the way he works, the deliberate, confident movements of his body betraying a full control of his actions; the axe he’s handling is very heavy, not to mention dangerous should its edge cut through flesh rather than wood, and Rayleigh would have any reason to be tired by now, but his stamina must be higher than you gave it credit - which is another thought your mind can’t help but linger on. 

You can see perspiration glister on his shoulders and back as he works, and the way he stops for a moment to brush the hair away from his eyes before returning to work; from your position at the door -you are sighing, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs as you fantasise about being able to touch and caress what you are now admiring; you should probably feel embarrassed, at the mercy of your impulses like a teenager who has just discovered boys, but you don’t, no, you could even say you like it…- you can see his broad back bend and straighten, muscles rippling under his taut skin, and the way his biceps bulge with the effort of raising the axe…

“You know.” Rayleigh mentions after a while without looking up at you, amusement clear in his voice “It will last longer if you took a picture.”

You hadn’t even realised he had noticed you were there, but you’re determined not to make him see he has caught you off guard. “You’re probably right.” you answer pensively, and then, unflinchingly, you retrieve your phone from your pocket, select your camera, frame him, and take the picture.

“Perfect, thank you.” you say cheerfully, turn and walk back inside swinging your hips before Rayleigh has time to react.

The picture came out really well, but that’s not the only reason why you’re openly grinning; you are sure Rayleigh will not let the matter drop, and he in fact doesn’t.

He has joined you in the living room a minute later, still naked from the waist up even though he must have used the towel to wipe away the sweat from his body; you are face to face, his naked chest in front of you -wide shoulders, firm pectorals, a taut stomach, soft-looking blonde hair disappearing under the waistband of his trousers; God, he looks so good you might start salivating any minute- a pleasant view you shamelessly enjoy, not bothering to hide your mouth behind your hand when you lick your lips, suddenly hungry for something that is not food.

Rayleigh is smiling as he reaches out towards you; he has noticed your interest and doesn’t bother to hide how flattered he is. “Let me see the picture.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“Come on, (name); it’s my picture after all, and I don’t want it to be on your phone if it didn’t turn out right.”

You tell him that the picture is very flattering, so much that you were planning on asking the publishing house to use if for the cover of your new novel, but Rayleigh is not deterred; he tries to take the phone from your hand as you retreat deeper into the room, until the base of your back is pressing against the edge of the table top, and his hands rest on it at the sides of your hips, effectively caging you.

Your heart is pounding; you try swallowing and you manage - barely. Without a word you surrender your phone in Rayleigh possession, and he observes the picture after turning on the screen. “Not bad.” he decides, and grins as he places the phone safely on the table. 

“So; the cover of your next novel, was it? I should feel flattered.”

“I'm sure my readers would love it, but I think I changed my mind; I want to keep that picture for myself, rather than sharing it.”

“I see. I could let you do a whole photoshoot if you'd like…”

You grin; Rayleigh smiles, and a moment later his hand, warm and strong and delicate, has cupped your cheek. 

“Tell me I can.” he murmurs; his voice, low and soft, and the arousal behind it, is enough to make you shiver “(name), please, tell me I can or I don't know what I'll do…”

It’s like taking a deep breath after having held it for a lifetime. “Of course.” you murmur, offering him your mouth, and a moment later the space separating you has disappeared.

Kissing Rayleigh is everything you had hoped for and more; soft and intense, passionate but unhurried, as if he wanted to take his time savouring it - savouring you, and the taste of your lips. You hear him moan softly when your tongue finds his, deepening the kiss, and a moment later you’re running your fingers through his hair, feeling his heart pound against your chest; you can feel Rayleigh’s hands running up and down your sides, gently moulding the shape of your body, and when you finally part, both breathless, a look is enough to make it clear you want the same thing.

Rayleigh grabs you by the hips to effortlessly pick you up and place you on the table. You quickly circle his hips with your legs, closing the space between you; your arms snake around his neck as he still holds you in place, but a moment later your hands descend down his chest, exploring flesh and skin, so deliciously masculine and warm under your touch, and you can feel a rumbling of pleasure under your palms.

“Am I of your liking?”

“You most certainly are; especially if we were not to limit ourselves to kissing.” you point out; it’s quite a bold declaration, especially if shared between a couple that has been so for less than two minutes, but Rayleigh has the power to make you feel safe, at ease, even if just from the embarrassment of discovering you want different things.

That, and the fact that you can feel his erection pressing against your thigh.

“Are you sure?” Rayleigh’s gaze meets yours as he takes your face in his hands, torn between the desire of hearing you confirm yours and the fear of making you uncomfortable “I don’t mind, I… I want you so much, but we have all the time, I don’t want to ruin…”

“We’re ruining nothing; and I want you too, more than you can imagine. I just need to feel you, Rayleigh; whatever happens from tomorrow onward, I have never been as sure of something as I am of this.”

The handsome man in front of you raises an eyebrow. “From tomorrow onward?”

“Yes, because I want to spend the rest of the day making love to you.” you explain placidly, arching your hips to press yourself against his turgor, and Rayleigh whines.

“Woman, you are killing me…”

You have no intention of causing him any more discomfort, and you prove it by lifting your arms, allowing Rayleigh to free you from your sweater, long-sleeved shirt, and tank top, all in one. You should feel cold, almost completely naked from the waist up, but the way he is looking at you is enough to fill your belly with warmth. 

You kiss some more, touching each other and panting as the desire between you grows; Rayleigh’s hand runs up and down your clothed leg, his mouth smiling against yours as he feels you arch your hips as you search for a modicum of friction, the pressure between your legs mounting to unbearable levels. 

“Down, girl…”

“I can’t… Rayleigh, please…”

He grins, leaving your lips to bite gently at the column of your neck. “I like the way you say my name.” he murmurs “And don’t worry, I’ll take care of you in a minute.”

You help him unclasp your bra, and a moment later you’re lying on the table, moaning as Rayleigh, bent over you, kisses and licks your breasts. You run your fingers through his hair, and a moment later he has captured your right nipple in his mouth, sucking with just enough force to mix pleasure and pain, and rather than moaning, you are screaming -Rayyleeeiiiggghh- and in a murmur he tells you to go on, and you’re so beautiful and hot, and he’s waited for almost a year to hear you scream his name.

One of Rayleigh’s arms is resting on the table next to your head, supporting him. He lowers his free hand between your legs, cupping your core; despite the heavy trousers you are wearing you can feel his thumb finger pad against your clit, gentle but merciless as he rubs and caresses and stimulates, and then suddenly something snaps inside of you and a tide sweeps you away, and your scream is no longer a name, or a word, but a simple, raw declaration of love and passion.

Rayleigh’s hand carries you through your orgasm, drawing every last drop of pleasure from your body until your head falls back on the table; you are wheezing, and while you thought you were past embarrassment you can’t help but blush when your gaze meets his.

“Don’t look at me like that! I haven’t had sex in a decade…”

“Then we’ll spend the next one doing it.” he decides; he kisses you, sweet and passionate. “Let me bring you to bed.”

“No.”

“No…?”

“No.” you repeat, smiling as you rest your forehead against his “I want to do it on the rug.”

The living room’s rug is one of the few pieces of furniture you brought with you from the city, soft and heavy, the red and black wool perfect for lying in front of the fireplace with a book, and also, you discover today, to make love on.

Rayleigh picks you up before you have time to react to carry and then gently depose you on the rug. “Comfortable?” he asks softly, and when you nod he smiles, stands, and starts stripping. 

The sight of his naked legs, like the rest of his body made strong and taut by a lifetime of work, is enough to make you bite your lip, but then you sit up, and Rayleigh turns back to you, the turgor inside his black briefs is at the same height of your eyes, and suddenly you can’t quite remember how to breathe.

You rest your hands on his hips. “May I?” you ask, looking up at him, and having received a nod of permission you slowly, cautiously finish undressing him, and then there’s nothing you can do but stare, open-mouthed, and Rayleigh groans, as if having to physically stop himself from filling your open cavern with his organ. 

“Darling, please…” he begins, and then doesn’t finish, because you have taken his erection -lovely, absolutely perfect, long and big and veiny, erect against his belly, the base surrounded by soft blonde hair and the tip already leaking pre-cum- in your hand, pumping it hard enough to force a litany of swear words from Rayleigh’s mouth, and you must not be the only one who hasn’t done it in a while, because it takes him only a few minutes after you have swallowed him to murmur that you need to stop, because no matter how much he’s enjoying your ministrations -oh God yes, yes darling, just like this, don’t st-oh God your teeth…!- he wants more, for your first time. 

He lets you take off your shoes and socks by yourself, and then he’s kneeling above you, opening your trousers; he kisses your belly, then the apex of your thigh, and then further and further down as he slips your trousers down your legs, and finally all you are wearing are black panties, which is not the sexiest, nor the newest, pair you own, but Rayleigh doesn’t seem to mind, so you don’t either.

You kiss some more as his hand slips under the cotton. “You are so wet.” he murmurs, and you can feel him once more, the clever movement of his fingers pushing you to the brink for the second time; you arch your hips against him, but a moment later he has retracted his hand, and laughs when he hears you whine “Patience, my darling; I promise it’ll be worth the wait.”

It is, a thousand times worth it, but nevertheless you are almost crying with need when Rayleigh frees you from your panties, remains a moment still to admire you, and then takes you in his arms once more, you legs intertwined, an arm bent under your head as a pillow, your hands caressing his back as his slips between your bodies, and a moment later you can feel his tip pressing against your folds.

“I’ve wanted you since the first day I met you.” he murmurs; your faces are close enough you are almost sharing breath, and it’s never been like this for you, the perfect intimacy of this moment almost bringing tears to your eyes “I’ve always been content on my own, and then one day you were there, offering me tea even though you were in the middle of a move, and coming to me after you had to run from your home. God… you are so beautiful.”

You smile, heart bursting with happiness, but at the same time you’re frustrated, because you’re not good with words, at least when you have to speak them out loud rather than typing them to be published, and there’s a reason why most of your books have always been devoid of romance. Talking about feelings is hard, and scary; and while being with Rayleigh has always had the gift of making you feel safe, you are not sure you can actually express what you already know in your heart.

You decide to try.

“I…”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“But I want to; I… I never thought I could feel this way; especially not at this age.” you murmur “To be honest, I had lost hope I could; that I could meet someone I can be myself with, without fear. But I did; I found you, Rayleigh, and for this I will be grateful forever.”

It’s pretty inadequate as far as affection declarations are concerned, but Rayleigh looks happy; he kisses you once more, arching his body above yours, and then he starts to push, slow, deliberate movements as he grins, well aware of the effect he’s having on you.

“You’re so tight.” he moans in your ear, and you wish you could point out that the reason is your long period of celibacy as much as his size, but you can’t, because it would be a complete lie and because at the moment you wouldn’t be able to talk even if your life were at stake. 

Rayleigh is gentle at first, making sure you’re comfortable and he’s not hurting you more than you’d appreciate, but then something changes; he holds you in his arms as he shifts, kneeling on the rug and then moving, his pace quickening, his muscles tense and his groans and cries filling the air, and he’s so hard, so big and strong and masculine and in control, and he’s looking at you, his dark eyes fixed on your squirming, panting form. He looks at you as if you were the realisation of all his dreams, and despite the delicious friction filling you belly with fire you’re taking his body as if you had done it a million times already, as if you were made for it and for him and he for you; you grab his biceps hard enough to sink your nails in his flesh and

“More.” you growl, and Rayleigh grins, and obeys, giving you his all as he makes sure you forget any other man who has ever touched you, and any other partner you have ever loved. 

*

Leaving Rayleigh at the end of your lovemaking is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but the day is too cold to remain naked and exposed, so you regretfully stand, separating your body from his and giggling when Rayleigh takes your hand to pull you to him once more and steal a kiss from your lips. 

“Where are you going? Stay here, I’m not done with you yet…”

“I’m glad to hear it; I just need to fetch a blanket, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He finally lets you go -make it half a minute, I miss you already- and remains lying on your rug, naked like the day he was born, looking at you as you cross the room, swinging your hips a little more than you normally do. You walk quickly towards your bedroom, and after a moment of indecision you retrieve a heavy quilt from the wardrobe; you bought it only a week ago despite its high price, in anticipation of the cold winter, and you couldn’t imagine a better occasion to inaugurate it. You also take both of your pillows.

Rayleigh has not remained idle while you were away; he is now kneeling in front of the fireplace, perfectly at ease in his nudity -and who wouldn’t be, with a body like his?!- as he uses the little wood you had found in the shed behind the house and brought inside to kindle a fire. He looks up at you, smiling as he rubs his hands to wipe the soot away, as the light of the flames bathes his face; he’s handsome enough to make your heart tremble. 

“Hope you don’t mind; we’ll be warmer.”

“I don’t; after all I have enough chopped wood to last me through the winter.”

You both laugh as you return to the rug, and quickly arrange a comfortable bedding with the quilt and the pillows. “Are you tired? Do you want something to eat, or to drink?”

Rayleigh shakes his head, looking at you fondly. “Maybe later. Now come here, the only thing I have an appetite for is you.”   

You happily snuggle together under the quilt, unbothered by the perspiration permeating both of your bodies; you kiss for a while, hungry hands moving on warm skin, satisfied but not yet sated. Out of the house night is falling, but neither notices; it’s not like you had something to do, or somewhere to be, more important than this and here, with each other, discovering a future neither had dared to hope could be in the plans.

“So.” you murmur in the end, resting your cheek on his shoulder as your hand plays with the soft hair of his chest; Rayleigh seems to appreciate, given the way he’s literally purring, a low rumble of pleasure that reminds you of the content growl of a tiger “It seems like we’re having a chapter seventeen of our own.”

It may seem too obscure a reference, since Rayleigh has by now read several of your books, and who knows how many others, but he immediately understands what you mean; he smiles, vaguely unsure, as he brushes his fingers against your cheek. “Maybe.” he concedes “It’s been a very enjoyable chapter, even more than the one you wrote, and it can be so again. But…”

“But?”

“But, I would also be happy if this could be our chapter thirty-one.”

Chapter thirty-one is the one, in the book you’re both referencing, where your novelist protagonist and her love interest, the no longer mysterious man, confess their feelings to each other and decide to pursue a relationship. You’ve never been particularly interested in romance and your novel was not exactly a love story, but you’re pretty proud of how you had built up the relationship between the two characters, a love that doesn’t magically solve all of their problems -rather, it creates a few more!- with the two not falling suddenly in love at first sight or, worse, after having sex, but building a relationship based on trust and respect, learning to compromise and taking care of each other.

You were young when you wrote that novel, too young perhaps to know what love was, but you thought, and you kept on thinking, that perhaps one day you would find a relationship like that as well. And who knows, maybe you can, now, if you only had the courage of…

“Sorry, maybe it was corny… what I meant to say is…”

“I know.” you reassure him, turning in Rayleigh’s embrace to look him in the eyes; his hands raise to cradle your hips, the hold possessive and still hungry, but there is tenderness in his eyes, and a smile you can’t help but returning as you caress his hair “And I’d like that.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am; really, really sure. How could I not, given everything we have shared ever since we met? I mean, I haven’t had a relationship worthy of the name in more than a decade, I don’t even remember what it means to have a partner, but…”

“We’ll remember together.” Rayleigh reassures you; he kisses your brow and then, as if remembering suddenly that he can, your mouth “Now come here; I want to hold you for a while before the next round.”

Happy, you settle in your lover’s arms, his solid body warming you better than any heavy blanket ever could, and enjoy the feeling of his heartbeat under your cheek as Rayleigh holds you in his arms, tight, as if never intending to let go.