#i’ve never drawn something like this before so please be gentle while making fun of me 😭🙏

[whispence]

i actually love that scene in yokai watch 1 where whisper is just straight up chugging two ramune bottles at once. it was actually what made me try ramune irl for the first time.

anyway here’s my shitty interpretation of it lmao 😭

[notsoattractivearenti]

It's Time to Leave (Mason Mount x Reader)

Song Inspo: Stay - Why Don't We (Listening to the song while reading this fic is highly recommended 😊)

WC: 1.5K

Warnings: Curse words, angst

A/N: Made a poll about who to write this fic for and Mason got the most votes! Should've finished 2 weeks ago but I didn't have the time lol but here it is 😉 Special thanks to @ariddletobesolved for proofreading! This fic is an one-shot, so there's not gonna be a 2nd part. Please enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts through replies/reblogs/asks 💗 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

---

“I just wish things could be like they used to

But they never will, now I see right through you

Wish you could tell me all the ways that I miss you

Baby, I'd be lying if I didn't say I wish you'd

Stay”

---

“Y/N, I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I can’t be the only one who’s invested in our relationship. It’s supposed to work both ways, you know? Well it used to be like that. But now-“

“Excuse me!? Why the fuck would you even think that way, Mason? I’m not invested in us? Why do you think I stayed for all these years?”

“You’ve changed, Y/N! You’ve fucking changed! Don’t you realise that? Do you think I’m too dumb to notice that?? I’m tired of being the one who cares so much when you don’t give a shit about me anymore!” He yelled, and you could see he was already tearing up.

From the first time you met him, he had never yelled at you. He has always been a calm, gentle, and loving person. No matter how upset he could be, he always handled things in a peaceful manner. You loved that about him, because he was different from the other guys you’ve previously dated. You felt like he was the one you can always count on, who will never let you down. He has a very positive attitude and big, warm personality, the moment you laid your eyes on Mason you were instantly drawn to him.

But today he showed you the side of him you have never seen before. You could clearly see he was filled with disappointment, resentment, anger, and sadness. You just came to a realisation that you have hurt him deeply. You were aware that your feelings toward him have changed, but you were in denial and tried to ignore that because you didn’t know how to tell him. You were afraid that if you broke up with him, you would make the biggest mistake in your life. But what you didn’t notice is that your behaviour had changed as well, you thought he would never notice – but knowing how in love with you he was, and that he’d known you all too well, of course he did.

“I was always there when you needed me, and I know for sure you fucking knew. I put a lot of effort into making our relationship last because I thought you were my forever.” He scoffed, pausing for a bit, shaking his head in something like disbelief. “Back then, we were so in love, we had so much fun together. But lately you seem like you have given up on us… What could possibly go wrong with us, Y/N?” His bloodshot eyes were now on you. Gone was the warmth that he used to reserve for you. “Have I done something to make you feel like I’m not worthy of your love anymore?” His voice was shaky as he tried to control himself from exploding, but his overflowing emotions were difficult to hide. 

You froze for a minute, unable to think of anything to say. It’s like your brain suddenly couldn’t function. There was a pang in your chest that felt so heavy, and your hands started shaking. You were trying to gather yourself to find the right words to express how you feel about him. 

“Mason… I-” This will hurt, you thought before continuing, “I’m sorry. The truth is… My feelings have not been the same. I don’t know why, how or when, but it is what it is.” You sighed, “I… I don’t love you anymore.”

He bit his lip and started breathing heavily, seemingly not ready to hear you say those last five words.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you that, but I just didn’t know how. I swear, it’s not you. But I feel like there’s something lacking within our relationship. I ju-”

“I gave you everything I could give you, Y/N. Everything. I poured my heart and soul into you, us. Wasn’t that enough for you?” 

Your eyes widened, your jaw just dropped. You couldn’t believe what you just heard. 

Mason took a deep breath, “I loved that you had shown me how much you needed me, but now it feels like you don't anymore. I mean, not long ago I just got injured and had to miss training and matches for a few weeks! You knew how much I needed you by my side, but instead you left me alone while you were out doing God-knows-what. You lied to me, and you kept making excuses after excuses, it’s like you just want to get away from me.”

Tears started streaming down your face. Fuck, you thought, what have I done?

“Wha- Mase, I… I have no idea you feel that way. I’m sorry… Fuck, I’m sorry I have been treating you like shit, I just…” you caught your breath from crying, “I don’t know what’s happening with me. What I did was wrong, I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve… I should’ve been honest to you. I… I don’t… I didn’t mean to break your heart…”

“Well it’s a little too late isn’t it?” he let out a scoff as he furiously wiped his tears, “I think it’s time for me to leave, Y/N. There’s no point of me staying in a dead-end relationship. You’ve fallen out of love with me, and I’m not going to convince you to love me the way you used to. I’ve tried my hardest to keep this ship floating, now I’m done.”

Overwhelmed, he paused for a second. “I just… I just don’t know you anymore, Y/N. You are not who you used to be. Now you don’t seem to care about me, about us. Now everything is always about you.”

You could feel your heart begin to shatter. You knew a break-up was coming eventually, but to hear him speak his truth hurt you deeper than you thought it would. You have done such awful things to him just because you were afraid to tell him how you feel. You wouldn’t blame him if he hates you now – in fact, you knew you deserved it.

“I’m tired of feeling down. I deserve better than whatever bullshit you’re giving me.”

 He would be lying if he said he didn’t wish for you to stay, to give your relationship another try. But he knew you two would never work anymore. He wanted everything to be the way it used to be, he wanted to be loved by you and you only. But if you stayed, it would cause you both nothing but pain. At the moment he just knew that going separate ways was the only right thing to do.

You tried to hold back your tears, you were filled with instant regret. You knew you’ve fucked up and taken the greatest love of your life for granted. You hated that your relationship had to go down this way, but you knew you deserved it.

“Mase, I wish I could’ve done better… You and I both know even a million sorries will never be enough. You should know I’ve never meant to hurt you… And yet, at the end, I still did. Thank you for telling me everything I needed to know, I hate myself for treating you unfairly. You deserve better than a bitch like m-”

“No, Y/N, don’t say that,” he cut you off, “you’re not a bitch. You never were.”

“I am, Mase. I know for sure I am. You’ve always been so sweet and loving to me but I fucking hurt you in the worst way possible.”

You both then sat in silence for a while, trying to process the break-up. There was nothing easy about it, especially since you weren’t exactly prepared for what just happened.

“Well,” you broke the silence, “I guess it’s time for me to go.” This is it. “Goodbye Mase, and I’m sorry we had to end like this.”

You went in and tried to give him a hug, but he refused. “I can’t do that, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

“I- I understand.” You pressed your lips into a tight line, taking it as your cue to leave.

As you stood up and grabbed your things, he said to you: “Goodbye, Y/N.”

---

Two weeks had passed. His heart ached from missing you, he was questioning his decision to let you go but he knew it had to be done. He tried to delete your pictures and your number from his phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, knowing that he still needed some time.

Putting his phone away, he then grabbed a pen and a little notebook he had. Since he couldn’t tell you how he was feeling, he wrote them down instead:

“Y/N, I wish I could tell you just how much I miss you… You are just too hard to forget. But I deserve better… After everything, I need to heal. We both do. Nonetheless, I hope you will find someone who can love you better than I did…”

---

“Gave you all I can give you

Now all that's left is "I still miss you"”

---

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @mortirolo @masonsrem

[radiant-reid]

Pretty in Purple

Summary: An interruption to some private time Spencer is trying to share with his girlfriend unintentionally winds up advancing their sex life.

okay so ik i’m a lil insane for this one but!! request for softdom spencer using the purple scarf as a blindfold/handcuffs (i’m just obsessed w that godforsaken scarf)

A/n: yes, yes, yes !! thank you for this, I am such a purple scarf fan.

hey you’re like my favorite author. could you do something with spencer and fem reader in a secret relationship and morgan goes to his house to drop something off and he catches them together?

A/n: thank you so much ! this was such a fun request to add in

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Smut NSFM)

Content Warning: Swearing | Smut- daddy kink, size kink, unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, use of a blindfold (is there a word for that?) | Softdom!Spencer

Word Count: 3.2k

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Dramatically stepping out of the walk-in wardrobe, Y/n did a complete spin in the dress she had just bought. "What do you think of this?" She asked, smoothing her hand over the shimmering purple material that was tight to highlight her waist. It was on the short side, intentionally, ideal for showing off her legs when she wore heels.

Spencer was sitting on the round armchair in their bedroom, wanting to watch the fashion show she was putting on. His eyes quickly were drawn to her figure.

"Yes." He immediately said, nodding vigorously. Even if his answer was less than descriptive, his gawking was enough to assure with an abundance of confidence.

"Yeah?" She asked, walking into the middle of the room before pulling down the hem. "Are you sure it's not too much?"

Quickly, he shook his head. "No, it's perfect. You look beautiful." He assured her, getting up from his seat. "You know you didn't have to buy a new dress, right?"

"I know, but I wanted to match you." She told him, thinking about the purple tie in his closet. "I'm kind of terrified, you know?" She mentioned, spinning around to look in the mirror, trying to make sure it looked okay. Trying to make it look right was frustrating, and it wasn't even the day. A whole week until she'd be meeting his colleagues-turned-family.

Spencer came over, resting his hands on her waist while he pulled her body against his. "You have nothing to worry about, I promise." He comforted, sending her a smile through the mirror. "I already asked Rossi if I could bring someone, and I managed to get out of there before anyone could ask me questions."

He had pretty much sprinted down the stairs and to the elevator once he went into Rossi's office to ask if he could bring a special someone to his dinner party. Rossi was both surprised and proud, immediately agreeing and voicing his enthusiasm to meet whoever Spencer had been keeping a secret. The problem came when the team saw him grinning when he closed the office door, and he had to very quickly leave the office to avoid questioning.

Y/n spun back around, resting her hands on his shoulder. "Aren't they going to find it odd that we live together and I've never met them?" She wondered, having thought about each day when she walked past the pictures in the hallway every day. Every time there was an opportunity for her to meet them, she'd been away for work.

"I think they stopped finding me odd a long time ago." Spencer joked, smiling when she laughed. "They're going to love you, I promise. Not only because I do, but also because you are wonderful."

"Thank you." She said, tiptoeing up to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

Anchoring a hand on her cheek, Spencer kissed her more roughly, rolling his hips against hers to clearly show her what he wanted. With slightly more swollen lips, he pulled back to look at her. "Let me prove it." Spencer offered, tongue darting out along his bottom lip.

"Please," Y/n whispered, her lips an inch off his. The excitement in her blood was already racing through her veins.

Spencer traced his thumb over her jawline. "So good for Daddy, aren't you?" Dumbly, she nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again. He kissed her firmer that time so forcefully her head tipped back as she looped her arms around his neck.

Gripping her hips with one hand, Spencer used the forefinger and thumb of his other hand to unzip her dress. For a moment, he pulled back to look at her.

The intense stare always made Y/n squirm, her underwear growing damper. Tenderly, he reached out to cup her cheek. "You're so beautiful." He complimented, pulling the strap of her bra before letting it snap back into place. She hadn't intentionally worn a matching set of lace purple lingerie, but she was thankful she did.

When he dove back down to kiss her with more urgency, she started to unbutton his dress shirt. Her skin broke out in goosebumps when his large, slightly cold hands held her bare waist. She could feel each detail of his fingers against her skin, and it made him smirk at her reaction.

Spencer's lips broke apart from Y/n's in favor of kissing down her neck as he maneuvered her toward the bed. When her calves hit the bed base, he pushed her until she flopped down onto the mattress.

She spread her legs for him while he undid his tie, eyes never leaving her body. It made her shiver in anticipation, excited for what was to come. Even the way his fingers looked skillfully undoing the fabric was alluring. Just the way the veins looked lit the burning urge for her to have them inside her. Of course, he drew it out to tease her.

As soon as Spencer had thrown the tie in the general direction of the closet, he rested his weight on his knees on either side of Y/n's thigh and leaned down to kiss her. Her fingers moved to unbutton the rest of his shirt while he sucked marks into her neck.

"Daddy, please." She begged although she wasn't sure what for. When she undid the last button, her hands were free to tangle in his curls, tugging as he drew moans out of her.

His hands were almost where she needed them when another voice interrupted. "Pretty boy, you left- oh wow."

Spencer's hands and mouth were quickly off her as she opened her eyes to see who she knew was Derek Morgan with a hand over his eyes and Spencer's purple scarf in his other.

Frantically, Spencer's wide eyes met her's to make sure she was okay. The blush on her cheeks, he was sure, mirrored his. "I'm going to kill him." He whispered, handing her his shirt to put on.

By the time she realized what was happening, Spencer was already off the bed, and she was sitting up, thankful he was tall enough that his shirt hid most of her body. It wasn't exactly how she wanted to meet his friend, trying to make herself look she wasn't about to get thoroughly railed by Spencer.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer asked, taking the scarf out of Morgan's hand.

Hesitantly, Morgan took his hand away from his eyes, sending the girl in Spencer's bed a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I didn't know you were, uh, busy. You left that on your desk, and I came to drop it off and used my key." He explained awkwardly, something Spencer wasn't sure Morgan could feel when talking about sex. "Rossi said you were bringing someone next week, which I'm guessing is..."

"Y/n." She introduced herself, offering him a shy wave. Although she was blushing, she could tell Morgan wished he didn't drop by unannounced. "Spencer's girlfriend."

Morgan's eyes flicked to his friend, his mouth dropping open slightly in shock. Spencer was giving him a look that meant, please, leave. "Right, uh, well, it was nice to meet you. I'll see you on Friday, and we can just forget this happened." He said all at once, walking back out.

"It was good to meet you, too." Y/n farewelled as he left the room, followed by her boyfriend.

Spencer stopped at the doorway of the bedroom, looking back at Y/n before towards his friend. "Can you lock the door?" He asked, ready to get back to what he was doing. Or who he was about to be doing.

"Yup." Morgan agreed, wanting to get out of the apartment as soon as possible. "Have a good weekend."

Awkwardly, Spencer gave him a thumbs up, waiting until he'd heard the apartment door close to go back into the bedroom. Y/n had her legs spread apart, toying with the one button of his shirt that was still done up.

"Hi, baby." He cooed, walking over to the side of the bed with the scarf still in his hand.

Still sitting up, Y/n cupped his cheeks to pull his face down so she could kiss him. She kept pulling him closer until he had no choice but to kneel over her while she lay down again. Leaning up, she took off her bra and his shirt.

Spencer craned his neck to kiss down her chest before circling her nipple with his tongue and using his hand to squeeze her other boob.

"Fuck." She moaned, arching her back in pleasure. Electric pulses ran down her spine when he used his teeth.

Looking up at her, Spencer pulled back. "Look at me." He demanded darkly. She tried to when he reattached his lips to the other nipple. But it proved too difficult with the wet roughness of his tongue gently swirling somewhere so sensitive. As soon as she let her eyes roll back, Spencer pulled away from her. "Doll." He sternly warned.

"Sorry, Daddy." She quickly squeaked out, worried he'd flip her over and spank her enough she wouldn't be able to sit down.

"If you don't want to look, then you're not going to be able to." He decided, remembering the fabric still between his fingers. Y/n caught on to what he was saying, her eyes following where his gaze was fixed. "Move your head." He instructed, resting the purple scarf against her eyes before tying it behind her head. He was gentle with it like he was with everything when it came to her, even if he was acting tough.

Y/n knew her brain wouldn't have been able to rewire itself to enhance her other senses so quickly, but she swore she could feel Spencer's fingers stronger against her skin.

Spencer shifted downward, not touching her to keep her clueless. Gently, he pulled her underwear down, leaving her completely naked. Unable to see what he was doing- and knowing better than to squirm- Y/n was forced to wait for his next move.

Smirking about her sightlessness, Spencer lay down, so he came face to face with her pussy. Without any warning, he attached his mouth to her clit, causing her to shout his name. "So pretty." He cooed when he pulled back, loud enough for her to hear.

Between every touch, Y/n had no choice but to wait for whatever he was going to do. It made her want to wriggle closer to grind on his face. Torturous for her, which made Spencer love every second of it.

"Taste so good, too." He didn't give her time to thank him before he dove back into eating her out, tongue just slipping into her walls.

Instinctively, she reached out to touch his hair like she always did. Spencer used it as a chance to mess with her, pulling his head away so she couldn't touch him, like he knew she enjoyed.

Wherever she reached, Spencer made sure she couldn't touch him. And when she whined about it, he just chuckled at her desperation. "You're begging me, already, and it's not even to cum." He spoke almost against her before pulling away, not even letting her feel his hot breaths.

Once again, when she wasn't expecting it, his pointer finger was inside her. A touch that slight still had her struggling to stop her heart racing. Both of them knew she needed more.

"Can you feel how tight you are?" Spencer rhetorically asked, slipping another finger into her and struggling to spread them. "And so wet." She could tell by the erotic sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of her, made louder because of her sight deprivation. "Who's pretty, wet pussy is this?"

She knew that time he was asking for an answer, but she struggled when his fingers reached her sweet spot, and she was rendered breathless. "Da-daddy's." She answered.

Spencer let his fingers nearly slip out of her hole. "You can do better than that, and you know it."

"Daddy's." She said louder and more coherently. Like it was a reward, Spencer thrust his fingers quickly back inside her. "Fuck, Daddy's. It's Daddy's."

He was only more spurred on by her moans, giving her what she needed, quick deep thrusts of his fingers. His fingers were the most divine thing she'd ever known, perfect to look at, but they also hit all the right spots inside her.

Smirking at her profanities, Spencer brought his thumb to her clit to rub firm circles. Y/n knew she was close to falling over the edge, her skin on fire while the electrical spark ran down her spine. "Wanna cum?" Spencer offered.

It was almost too good to be true because Spencer loved to drag it out, but her brain was too blurred to be considering the possibility he would deny her an orgasm she really needed. "Yes, yes, please, Daddy." She pleaded.

"Cum then, doll," Spencer demanded, angling his fingers slightly and making everything in her tense as her orgasm hit. Her half-broken moans continued as he worked her through it, drawing all of the energy out of her.

Then he was gone.

She could hear shuffling, but she had no idea what he was doing. The anticipation only made her wetter, wanting to know what he was planning. He could see it on her face, the thoughtful look clouded by lust, and it made him silently chuckle. The fact he could do anything he wanted to her made him fumble with the zip of his pants as he tried to get them off.

Two firm hands gripped her thighs, and she was pulled towards the edge of the bed. It made Y/n squeal in surprise and delight. Spencer didn't give her time to imagine what he was doing, running his length through her slit to collect the wetness before thrusting all the way into her.

She could feel his presence above her, as well as the labored breathing that she was sure wasn't as bad as her own. "S-so fuck-fucking good." She moaned out loudly, letting him know it was okay to move.

Spencer caught onto what she meant, pulling out of her before slamming back in. If his fingers were good, his cock was even better, filling up every inch of her like they were made to be together. No toy or person in her past could ever compare.

"Can feel you clenching around me already." He hummed as he continued to thrust inside her. It wasn't even something she purposefully did, but it drove him crazy.

"So deep." Y/n groaned, throwing her head back into the mattress while he continued to relentlessly pound into her.

Gripping her hips with one hand to pull her closer, Spencer took her hand in his other. "Feel it, baby." He said, placing her hand on her lower stomach where he could see the bulge from his cock inside her. Holding her hand there, he stilled inside her to show her just how deep he really was.

"Fuck." She mumbled, pushing down slightly and making Spencer groan out her name at the pressure against his cock.

Knowing how close he was, he started thrusting in and out of her again, pulling her hips up to hit the spot inside her that had her arching her back way off the bed and squeezing her boobs.

"Play with your clit." He instructed, causing her to hurriedly circle it, continuously moaning at how good everything felt. "Ready?" He asked, voice straining from how close he was to coming.

Y/n knew she was only moments off, feeling the increasing building in her stomach. Barely able to breathe, she tightened around him to let him know just how close she was.

With one last card to play, Spencer stopped as deep inside her as he could get to roll his hips against hers.

"Daddy!" She screamed when his cock rested on her g-spot, quickly falling over the edge at the intense pleasure. Everything inside her tightened, legs tensing as she rode out the high. At her walls fluttering around him, Spencer splurted cum inside her, grinding against her a few more times lazily.

Just as lazily, he flopped on the bed next to her, where she turned her head to face him. He pushed the scarf upward so she could see again.

Y/n broke out in a grin at seeing him, completely blissed out as she leaned forward to sweetly kiss his lips. "There's my favorite face in the world." She mumbled, stroking a thumb over his cheekbone while she cupped his cheek.

Spencer smiled just as widely. "Was that...okay?" He nervously asked, always focused on what made her feel good.

She nodded eagerly. "I love impulsive Spencer."

"Mmm." Spencer hummed, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "And I love you."

"Not more than I love you," Y/n argued, using the scarf as a gag on him, so he couldn't argue.

With his breathing regulated, Spencer sat up, taking the scarf away from his mouth. He attacked her face with kisses, making her squeal laughing.

Y/n pulled her face away from him, kicking him when she realized her legs were working. "Isn't it, like, your job to look after me now?" She joked, knowing Spencer always took care of her.

"I suppose." He said like it wasn't his favorite thing to do. When he stood up and looked at the scarf again, his face paled.

It was something she quickly noticed, immediately growing concerned. "What's wrong, babe?"

"Morgan. He was actually here, like that wasn't my nightmare." Spencer answered, shaking his head in slight disbelief. It was only just occurring to him that Morgan could have heard more before he interrupted.

Y/n giggled a little at his late-onset alarm. "That is what happened." She confirmed. "Maybe you should actually thank him?" She suggested.

He looked back at her. "No. No, you can't tell him." He quickly said, thinking about the impending dinner party.

Throwing her head back, she couldn't stop laughing. "So they don't know about the kinky doctor Reid?" The firm shaking of his head gave her an answer. "I'll keep your dirty little secret safe." She assured him with a wink.

He pulled Y/n up with both hands, tapping her nose once she was standing up. "You, my love, are my dirty little secret."

"That's really poetic. I should get it tattooed." Y/n sarcastically replied, lightly slapping him on the cheek with a grin before her face got serious. "It's not going to be weird, is it?" She was a little worried about what Morgan would think of her, seeing as Spencer was his friend.

Spencer could see the concern flooding her features, and he reached out to cup her cheeks, leaning down, so their faces were level. "I promise he's not going to bring it up. He definitely felt bad about walking in on us." He noted.

Y/n believed him. If not because his eyes were so intently watching her, then because he'd never lied to her. "At least now he knows you have a really hot girlfriend." She commented, cheekily grinning at him.

Huffing out a laugh, Spencer nodded. "Yeah, I do."

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[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)

Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus

A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Introductions

The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.

You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 

The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”

“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.

“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 

Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.

People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.

By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.

From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.

By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 

There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.

Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.

×××××

You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?

Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.

There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 

It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?

The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.

The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.

"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.

"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.

You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.

He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."

You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 

"Well okay, Grogu it is." 

You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 

"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.

"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.

"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.

You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."

"What do you mean?"

That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.

"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.

"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.

He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."

Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.

Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."

Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 

You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.

You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.

Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.

His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.

“This is what I have so far.”

His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.

You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”

You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”

You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”

He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.

“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 

Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”

“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.

He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”

There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 

And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.

.

.

.

taglist: @honestly-shite

[forever-rogue]

Can you do one where reader (who's partners with them) goes on a date and Javi happens to already be at the same bar the date takes place and at one point the reader doesn't feel good so she seeks out Javi and he quickly realizes she's been roofied?

I love protective Javi, but then again, don’t we all?

Warnings: drug mention, mention of violence, mentions of sex but nothing descriptive, language, 18+ only!

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier was a lot of things. A walking contradiction as much as he was steadfast in his ways. When you’d first met him, you’d been severely tempted to punch him right in his smug handsome face with that stupid charming grin, and that singular dumb dimple that already made your heart flutter.

It was your first day on the job, a fresh, brand new agent and the bastard had the nerve to ask you to fetch him a coffee. Not only that, but the way he had the balls to end the request with a slow, drawn sweetheart.

You’d exchanged a wry look with Steve, the golden haired man you already decided you liked much better. He had shrugged innocently and turned back to his papers with what you were positive was a smug little grin on his face. Back then you’d been annoyed, but looking back on it now, several years later, you realized it had been a sort of pseudo-test; to see if you’d meld into Javi’s advances or hold your own.

“No,” you’d told Javier firmly, watching as surprise look slowly crept into his features, “go fuck yourself and get your own coffee, old man.”

You’d never seen Steve laugh harder or Javier more in shock than that morning. To say you had proven yourself to both men was an understatement.

To say you ended up developing feelings for that stupid, dark haired, motherfucker was a gross understatement. Fallen in head first and through stuck in lust love with him was a much more accurate sentiment. Although you would never admit that to him or anyone else, let alone yourself.

Instead you settled on other things.

I love your cock. I love when you fuck me like this. I love when you use your mouth on me.

Yeah...it had quickly turned into that.

But Javier reciprocated in kind.

I love your pussy, just like you were made for me. I love when you get on your knees. I love how you look covered in my cum.

It was a lot of lust turned into love, but neither of you would ever admit that. Besides, it was never going to amount to anything; it was just some stress relief between two coworkers that understood each other more intimately than anyone else. No one knew the horrors of what either of you when through on a daily basis. But the two of you knew, and took solace in that fact.

You weren’t sure when the lines became so blurred, but you were almost positive it was around the same time that Javier made your relationship trysts an exclusive thing. No one else, just you and Javi. And damn. You liked that more than anything else.

But it wasn’t going to last forever; no, you knew that well from the start. What started out a one time thing that slowly stretched into more was never going behind that. You were sure of it, despite how good, how alive and protected and safe he made you feel, it was never going anywhere besides your dirty secret. Even the brightest stars burned out at some point.

Which is why when an agent from another department, a non-noteworthy average man, asked you out for dinner and drinks you said yes. It wasn’t an enthusiastic yes by any means, and the way your eyes had flicked to Javier before you agreed to go wasn’t lost on either of you. But he remained still and said nothing while you offered up a small yes.

Before the end of the day, you’d wandered over to his desk, ready to explain yourself, but he was quick to cut you off, not even looking up from his papers. You’re free to see anyone, Dulzura, he insisted in a gruff tone, have fun.

The part that hurt was the most was the fact that he didn’t bother to stop you as you walked out, even lingering for a moment at the door. The light bit of foolish hope you’d clung onto was for no reason after all. But at least you had an answer now. Javier was nothing more than a release.

»»————-　♡　————-««

All this nodding and smiling was going to give you a sore face and a headache, you realized. For a man that seemed so unassuming, he sure did love talking about himself. At one point when you drifted off from the conversation and let your mind wander, you’d looked across the crowded bar, and noticed him.

Of course he’d decided to come here to unwind after a long. Typical. Part of you momentarily wondered if he’d overheard you making your plans in order to come and watch you, but you weren’t going to flatter yourself that much. Chances, coincidence, mere happenstance. Besides that, it was a popular bar, and not an unsurprising place to find anyone on a Friday night.

But when you’d caught his eye, he offered you only a stiff little half smile, and you could visibly see the muscles in his neck stiffen as you raised your glass lightly in a mock salute. It didn’t a genius to figure out he was in a bad mood.

After some time, when you’d downed your greasy bar food, and finished off yet another drink, you still found yourself unable to handle your date. You couldn’t just sneak out, no that would be too obvious and awkward, especially come Monday when you were all back at the office. Instead, you settled on excusing yourself to use the restroom, hoping that if you spent long enough there he would take the hint.

Slipping off the stool, you almost dashed to the bathroom, making your way through the crowd and brushing against past Javier. He watched you bolt away with a curious expression, wondering what had caused the sudden escape. Internally sighing, he studied the man that was your date and frowned. You could have chosen anyone in the world, preferably him, but you’d chosen David of all the people. The man was a joke, a downright fool, and yet you’d said yes.

Fuck. But he could only blame himself. He’d never made a move, and every time he wanted to, especially after you started falling asleep in his arms, he talked himself out of it. It was just sex and companionship, he was sure of it. And now? Well, he been a fool and missed his chance. He narrowed his eyes at your date, wishing it was socially appropriate to go and beat the shit out of him. But he had reason to, and didn’t need to stir up anything. Instead, he decided to silently simmer, and told himself that he’d cut things off with you soon.

It was the right thing to do. Or so he thought.

He watched as you slowly flounced back and downed the rest of your drink, pretending to be engaged in conversation. He knew that face anywhere; the one you used when you feigned interest. Usually it made him laugh, but no? It caused a pit in the bottom of stomach.

But Javier was determined to stay, to keep an eye on you. Something in his gut was telling him that was something was off. And although he knew his instincts were clouded by his overwhelming feelings for you, he always knew that his feelings were rarely wrong.

So he stayed, long after his own companion had left and watched. Watched as you started acting more odd and more strange as you consumed another drink. It was a dramatic shift from your previous demeanor but your date was unphased. At one point, you swayed dramatically in your stool and almost fell to the floor.

Javier almost jumped to his feet as you straightened up and excused yourself again. He could see you mumbling something as the asshole man in question nodding, giving you a grin not unlike that of a wicked wolf.

Slowly stumbling through the crowd you knew something was off. Nothing felt right and the world seemed woozy and far away. You did however, recognize one thing...well, person. Javier. You wobbled over to him on unsure legs as he leaped to his feet, large, strong hands going to your waist to steady you.

“Javi,” your mouth felt heavy and dry and his name came off more than a whimper, a pathetic plea, as you met his dark eyes. His expression was somewhere between intense concern and furious anger as he helped to sick you down in the both, shoving a glass of water at you, “I don’t feel good. Feels weird...wrong. I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Look at me, Dulzura,” he gentle took your chin in his hand as he tried to study your face, but your head kept wanting to lull around. He gritted his teeth as he quickly put two and two together. A growl, primal and instinctive sounded deep in his throat as he look back at your date. Your date that was suddenly mysteriously disappeared.

The rat bastard had made a hasty escape as soon as you saw go to Javi.

He was a dead man.

“Javi,” you mumbled softly, “can you help? Please? I know you hate me now, but I dunno what to do.”

“I could never hate you,” he insisted as he held up the water for you to drink. You made quick work of downing it, feeling slightly less parched than before but still as miserable. Javi easily scooped you up in his arms, clutching you tightly to his chest as you mumbled incomprehensible things, “we’re going home. I’ve got you now.”

“’s okay Javi,” you managed to get out as you buried your head in his chest, “‘iloveyou.”

He stiffened at your words, unsure if you’d actually said those words, or if he was just a hopeful fool. Either way, that wasn’t his name concern at the moment. Getting you safe and into bed was top priority.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“J-Javi?” your voice cracked on his name as you realized just how dry your throat still was. Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you studied your surroundings, only realizing after a few moments that you were in his bedroom. A tall glass of water was on his bedside table, along with some pain killers. You took both without hesitation.

On cue, almost as if he could sense you were awake, a soft knock came on the door before he slowly opened the door. He let out a long exhale of relief when he realized you were awake and seemingly okay. Your eyes were wide and worried with your lips pulled into a small frown.

“How are you feeling?” he came in and sat at the foot of the bed, studying you with those eyes you swore you could see right into your soul. You shrugged as you set the glass down and tried not to cry.

“Alright I guess,” you sighed, feeling like an idiot, “I’m a fool. I can’t believe I let that happen. I don’t know I didn’t see it last night...I’m a fucking DEA Agent and I can’t tell when I’m getting drugged. I should be fired and sent right back home.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he reached over and gave your knee a gentle squeeze, “it could have happened to anyone. Please don’t blame yourself for it. That guy was a fucking asshole.”

“Javier,” you leaned forward and reached for his hand, taking it gingerly in yours as you studied it. His dominant hand, as well as the other was covered in cuts and bruises, all sorts of colors already and swollen. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as your mouth dropped open, “what happened....Javi. Oh, Javier, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is...”

“He had it coming,” was all he said as he held your hand in his, holding onto it protectively, “he’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I thought about it...”

“What if he tells-”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Javier-”

“Listen,” he stopped you gently, “I had been thinking about doing it all night. From the moment I saw him with you. This just gave me a reason to do it.”

“What do you mean?” you bit your bottom lip as you met his eyes, the two of you watching each other with a silent intensity as you tried not to let your hopes get the better of you. Javier reached up and gently touched your cheek, brushing his fingers over your soft skin and stopping at your lips, “please don’t say something you don’t mean. Please.”

“Why do you think I won’t mean it?” he asked as you dropped his gaze, playing with your hands as you tried to keep your heart from beating out of your chest, “god, I’ve fucking meant it for years. I just can’t ever say it, but when I saw you with that piece of shit, I knew. I should have just-”

“I love you,” and just like that those three words the both of you had danced around for years were out in the air. And it had been so easy, so simple - effortless. But it didn’t stop the nerves, the fear of rejection, the fear of the unknown. You chanced a peek at him, watched as a look of sheer panic crossed his features before settling into the softest expression you’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a slight nod of head, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, “that’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

“Say it then, asshole,” you laughed lightly, feeling your heart settle as your normal rapport started to bubble through, “or you can kiss my ass.”

“I’m not opposed to that-”

“Javier,” you jokingly groaned as he pulled you forward, but just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, “some things never change, huh?”

“Nope,” he laughed, “but it’s true.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

[honeytae]

Stop running from love.

hey bubs! honestly..i don’t know what this is lol it kind of got away from me. but it’s loosely based off of safety net by ariana grande. which is like one of my favorite songs in existence. i hope you guys like this angsty little piece of nothing?? lmao

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @jjlovr2015 genre: angst, fluff? word count: 2.2k

if you would like to listen, here it is:

You were doing it again.

Sabotaging yourself. Running away. Ghosting a man who had only ever shown you the utmost care and respect.

He’d already called multiple times today, frantic texts showing that he was now beyond worried at the way you’d seemingly dropped off the face of the earth. 

You couldn’t blame him. You’d been exclusively dating for three months. Three beautiful and happy months alongside a great guy whose smile brightened every room he graced with his precious presence. Three months that you’d been able to not go into a panic about that very concept.

Until you fell.

The last time you’d seen Jimin was last week when he’d met with you after work for a quick bite to eat.

It was the same place you always went to; you didn’t even have to ask where you were meeting anymore, already on your way to the booth in the back corner with a stupid grin on your face.

The checker floored diner had become a regular spot for you two to stop at, as it was in the middle of the city and perfectly placed between both of your jobs.

That quick bite to eat had easily turned into a full dinner, along with a dessert that’s whipped cream ended up on the tip of his nose in an instant, your giggles causing him to grin wider as he played dumb.

It was simple, not extravagant or fancy by any means, but that was never needed with him. You always had so much fun with Jimin. He was gentle, sweet, caring. All the right things. 

And it was when he was walking you back up to your apartment, his hand gripping yours in a way that was soft yet secure, sparkling eyes pressing into crescents when he smiled over at you that you came to a stunning realization; you were falling in love with him. 

With a panicked last press of your lips to his cheek, you’d closed your door, leaning back against it as you stared ahead of you, absolutely paralyzed in the silence of your apartment.

You could not be in love. What even is love? Heartbreak, that’s what it is. One way or another, it will always end. You needed to pull back before you got too invested. But, fuck, was it too late?

Erupting into hysterics as you came to terms with what had to be done to protect both yourself and Jimin, you slid your back down the wood, placing your forehead on your knees as you curled up into yourself. 

Since then, you’d made it your mission to put him off, every text going unanswered and each call going to voicemail. 

And now here you were in your bed in the early hours of the afternoon, shades drawn to encase the room in pitch black. It matched your mood, frustrated and angry with yourself as you cried into your pillow. 

You hated yourself for doing this to him. Shutting him out with no explanation; he deserves more than you. In the end, this was to his benefit. He’d go on to find someone worthy of his companionship, someone who didn’t want to disappear at the concept of love. 

Someone with less baggage to drag along with them, someone who had a healthy idea of relationships and wasn’t shattered at their core. 

While it was painful to ignore him without giving a reason, you knew he’d give up on you eventually. Everyone always did, and it was just for the best. 

You hiccuped another sob as your phone buzzed on the table yet again, grabbing the pillow from beside you to sandwich your head between the mattress and the fluffy material, effectively muffling the noise of the vibration as you screwed your sore eyes shut. 

“Love?”

You froze at the sudden unmistakable sound of Jimin’s voice calling for you, head spinning as you shut your eyes tighter. 

Were you imagining Jimin’s voice beside you? Were you that far gone?

You were proven wrong when the blanket was pulled off of your body, cold air hitting the bare skin of your arms as the pillow was removed from atop your head. 

You gasped at the sudden exposure, prying your eyes open to look up at none other than Jimin, the hurt and worried look on his face immediately causing you to sob again. 

“Shit, baby, come here.” He rushed to sit down beside you, you easily crawling onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your back, palm smoothing up and down your spine as he slowly rocked you back and forth. 

You sat there silently, letting yourself be comforted by him. For some reason, Jimin was harder to push away than the others. His arms felt so nice around you, like home. 

But this had to be done. You wanted him to stay like this in your memory, his image remaining undamaged by any painful breakup. 

“Jimin, I-I can’t see you anymore. We can’t be together.” You forced out, heart twisting in agony at the silence ensuing after your words, Jimin shifting you up his lap to look at you. 

“What do you mean?” He asked in disbelief, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes widened, you shaking your head instead of giving him a verbal answer due to the growing lump in your throat at his undeniably heartbroken expression. 

“We just can’t, Jimin.” You said lamely, your tight grip on his arm contradicting your words as his mouth gaped open at you. 

“Wh- what’s wrong? What did I do?” He asked desperately, causing you to sob harder at him blaming himself for this. 

“It’s not you, Jimin. You’re amazing, you deserve a better person.” You sniffled, Jimin immediately pulling a face of further confusion as he shook his head to dismiss your words. 

“A better- what are you talking about?” He asked, chasing your eyes as you chose to divert them to stare at the blank wall in front of you. 

“You deserve someone amazing just like you, Jimin.” You mumbled, the man sitting there in silence before he shifted off of the bed, making you think you’d finally pushed him away. 

The feeling of his weight being removed from the bed both pained and relieved you, happy for him to be able to move on now, but sad at that same idea. 

But you were taken by surprise when Jimin kneeled on the floor in front of you, forcing you to look at him as he reached up to hold your chin, eyes imploring yours to be more upfront with him. 

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. What are you talking about?” He repeated his question, silence lingering in the air at the words as you sat anxiously plucking the sheets below you with your fingers. 

“Baby.” He called for you, his hurt tone causing your nose to scrunch up with more tears, his thumbs catching the salty water as his expression became more pained by the second. 

“Let me in. Please, just let me in.” He pleaded with you, voice soft yet firm as he watched you break down in front of him, heart pounding in his chest at the mere thought of losing you from his life because of whatever insecurities you were not telling him about. 

“I’m fucking broken, Jimin. You don’t want to be let in, believe me.” You said, voice weak and wavering from the emotions bubbling up in your throat, shaky from the nights of no sleep you'd gotten in the last week. 

“Yes, I do. I’d accept all of you if you just gave me a chance.” He gripped your hands with his, intertwining your fingers to give a reassuring squeeze.

Staring at him, you did not know what to say. Nobody had ever pushed back on your walls like this. They accepted it, moved on, and lived a better life without you in it. You just wished Jimin would do the same.

But he was fighting you on it. Fighting you on something you didn’t even want to do in the first place. 

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And that fucking terrifies me.” You explained shakily, concentrating on the feeling of Jimin’s palm running up and down your arm. 

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, either. It’s new, of course it’s scary. But I care about you, I want you, I miss you. I don’t want you to shut me out.” He said softly, his honeyed voice soothing you enough to make eye contact with his gentle brown orbs. 

It was silent as you stared at each other, fear in his eyes and the same reflecting in your own. Studying his features, your heart twisted at his uncharacteristically dark circles, realizing he was probably running on the same amount of sleep you were at the moment. 

“I don’t know where to go from here.” You sniffled, Jimin tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as his glassy eyes stared back at you. 

Feeling confident enough to stand from the floor and sit beside you on the bed, he let you guide him up against the headboard, resting your backs on it as you let out a sigh.

“Stop pushing me away. Stop running from love.” He responded, his words sounding so genuine that you nearly burst out into tears again. 

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, placing your temple on his shoulder as his arms encircled your torso. 

“I want to be with you.” You admitted in a hoarse whisper, head throbbing as you rested your weight on Jimin, body giving out in exhaustion as he held you to him, delicate as if you’d break. Hell, maybe you would. 

“Me too.” He said without missing a beat, eagerness evident in his tone as you let your aching eyes fall shut. 

“I just don’t know how.” You sighed, the man humming in response as he threaded his fingers through your hair, rubbing your scalp soothingly as he pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. 

“We can figure it out together, okay? I don’t want to throw in the towel. Not without at least a little bit of a fight.” He joked, the heavy mood in the room being lightened a bit at the sound of your exhaled laugh. 

You lifted your head to look at him, opening your eyes to meet his own in the dark room, barely able to make out his features as the sun must have gone in behind the clouds outside your bedroom.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into, Jimin. I’m a mess. If you want to run, go now.” You spoke seriously, one corner of the man’s lips lifting as he bit down on his cheek, a habit you’d picked up early on as behavior he exhibited when he was hesitant to say something. 

“Listen, I’m a mess too. This is nothing.” He reassured you, your eyes studying his features as he seemed to express a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before with him. 

“Trying to break up with you because of my own baggage and insecurities? That’s nothing?” You asked with a humorless chuckle, causing the man to reach out for your hand, sighing out a breath of relief when you let him lock his fingers around yours again.

“Well, I guess that in itself is something.” He shrugged, shuffling to hover over you as your red eyes met his. 

“But I will always fight for you. You’re worth fighting for.” He said firmly, your eyes becoming glassed over again before you picked your head up off the pillow to catch his lips in a kiss, your palms sliding to the back of his neck as his plush lips worked over yours. 

Sensing your emotions, he pulled back only slightly to press his lips over your closed eyelids, the tender action causing your frown to deepen as you gazed up at the sweet man. 

“I’m not going to leave you. Whatever’s been done to you in the past, I’m not a repeat of that. I would never do anything to hurt you, I promise.” He said softly, his words seemingly making your heart alive again as it began to pound rapidly in your chest. 

And with that, you threw caution to the wind. Even if he broke your heart, you couldn’t stop that from cutting your experience with him shorter than it had to be. 

Because Jimin was the softest, sweetest, most lovable man you’d ever met. He showed time and time again that he cared about you, that he wasn’t like the others. And to give him up just because of some bad past experiences was just not worth it. 

“I trust you.” You whispered, almost scared to let the words fall from your lips, but relieved when you saw the wide smile on Jimin’s face. 

“I trust you, too.” He said softly, tracing his finger over your cheek as he leaned down to kiss you again, laying down beside you to spoon your body with his, pressing his lips against your shoulder in a soothing action. 

Laying in his arms, you felt more at peace than you’d felt in days. Being back in his embrace, you felt like you could breathe again, easily falling into much needed sleep with his warmth pressed to your back, his arms looped around your body as he pressed tender kisses to the shell of your ear. 

Jimin was your home. And it felt so good to be home. 

[hearts-hunger]

suum ca’nara (rest and peace) || din djarin x reader

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Summary: You and Din take your baby on a picnic, and rest and peace come more easily with the sun on your face and your husband by your side. || Standalone fic in the Jate’kara (Lucky Stars) series

Pairings: Din Djarin x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff | Word Count: 4.6k | Warnings: None!

A/N: So this is quite possibly the fluffiest, sweetest thing I’ve ever written. I’m proud of how it turned out, and I hope y’all like it! (Also, this gif is what I imagine Din looking like in this fic - *swoon*, am I right?) (Also also, if you’re interested, the poem I use in this isn’t mine - god, I wish - but it’s called “Do you still remember: falling stars” by Rainer Maria Rilke) ♡

“Ad’ika, I think mama is going to be madder than a razor cat once she sees the mess we’ve made of her kitchen.”

You smiled to yourself at the tone of your husband’s voice, amusement and exasperation coloring it in equal measure. You hadn’t seen the state of the kitchen yet; you were supposed to be sleeping in, but the sounds of laughter and happy baby coos had drawn you from the bunk to see what your husband and toddler were getting up to so early. You guessed they were making breakfast, if Din’s steady, one-sided dialogue was any indication.

“I can never remember how much honey to put in,” he said. “Your ba’buir used to make uj’alayi when I was little, and he never measured anything. Just threw it in the bowl.”

You pictured little Din in the kitchen with his father, hands sticky-sweet as he learned how to make the traditional Mandalorian cake. You imagined your little one was watching Din with the same reverent attention Din had watched his father with, and felt your heart swell with love for your little family.

“That’s probably good enough,” Din said. “Now we need the nuts.”

Your heard your baby give a questioning coo.

“Yeah, those,” Din said. “Hold on, the bag might be a little too - ”

Thunk. The unmistakable sound of Koja nuts rolling across the floor had you bringing your hand up to stifle a laugh. Poor Din.

“That’s ok, buddy,” he said, his voice sweet and patient as he spoke to your most likely distraught baby. Your little one loved to try and help Din whenever he could - whether Din was polishing his armor, tinkering with the Crest’s control panel, or clearing his weapons, your baby could be counted on to be there to “help”. Most of the time, his help consisted of a steady stream of chatter and attempts to do whatever Din was doing, and Din tried to find little ways for him to contribute. That your baby had been trying to help his dad make breakfast and had spilled the nuts everywhere was sure to be upsetting for him.

His little coo of apology was absolutely heartbreaking, and you knew Din would be gentle with him.

“You didn’t mean to,” Din said kindly. “It’s ok. Do you want to help me get these up so we can finish the cake?”

You backed up from the kitchen door while they cleaned up, wanting to stay hidden a little longer. Din loved being a dad, and it came to him so naturally; you cherished the moments you got to enjoy watching or listening to him interact with your son when it was just the two of them.

Your baby started babbling animatedly about something, and Din responded with “oh” and “hmm” at appropriate times, encouraging him to speak and letting him know he was listened to. They finished up the batter and put the cake on to cook, the nanowave oven crackling slightly as it heated up. It was an old model, like everything else on the Crest, and you’d become so accustomed to its finicky nature that it was more familiar than frustrating.

“Osi'kyr,” Din said, dismal. “Your mama needs a new nanowave, huh?”

Your baby chirped his agreement.

“Yeah, we’ll have to see about getting her one,” Din said. “Maybe Peli knows somebody we can ask. But for right now, we have to get this place cleaned up before mama sees.”

“Before mama sees what?”

You came out of your hiding place around the corner and were met with two guilty smiles, both Din and your baby looking like you’d caught them with their hands in the cookie jar. Your little one was sitting up on the counter, an uncracked Koja nut in hand, his ears perking up at the sight of you. Din was covered in flour - little baby-sized handprints covered his black shirt and trousers, and streaks of white appeared in his sleep-mussed curls. The kitchen was a mess, like he’d said, but it was worth it to see the two of them so happy.

“Hi, cyare,” Din said, his smile a little sheepish.

Your baby added his own coo of greeting, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good morning to you too,” you said. You gave your son a kiss on the top of his head. “What are you and daddy making?”

He waved the Koja nut in his claws for you to see. 

“Uj’alayi,” Din clarified.

You smiled. “Cake for breakfast, huh?”

He grinned. “Yeah, well, it’s got fruit in it. It’s healthy.”

He leaned close and kissed you, sweet with the taste of honey and ginger from the batter he’d tested before it went in the oven. He held his flour-dusted hands to the side of you so as not to get you messy too.

“Good morning, Mrs. Djarin,” he said sweetly, bumping your noses together.

You beamed. “Good morning, Mr. Djarin.” You gave him another quick kiss. “Do you want some help getting the kitchen cleaned back up?”

He looked a little distressed as he pulled back. “No, I mean - you don’t have to help. You didn’t make the mess.”

You gave an affectionate shake of your head. “Din. I don’t mind.”

He softened. “Well, if you’re offering. It’s very sweet of you, cyare. Sorry it’s such a disaster.”

“It’s not that bad,” you said, waving him off. “Most of the flour ended up on you and not on the counters, anyway.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, we had a hard time getting it in the bowl.” He took a cloth and began wiping down the counters, scooping your baby up while he did.

“But we’re ramikadyc mandos,” he continued. “Determined, tenacious. Not to be bested by cake batter.”

Your baby chimed in to agree with his dad. You laughed as you filled the sink with hot water.

“How did I get the two bravest Mandalorians in the galaxy on my ship?” you teased.

Din considered that. “I think you’ve just got good jate’kara, my love.”

You gave a pleased hum as he kissed you. “My stars are pretty lucky, aren’t they?”

He smiled. “Not as lucky as mine, cyare.”

When the kitchen was back in order, Din excused himself to take a shower while the cake finished baking. You got your little one dressed for the day in a soft, hand-stitched blue tunic Omera had made for him and tidied the bunk before heading back to the kitchen as the timer went off.

“Quiet a view, cyar’ika.”

You blushed at the teasing warmth of your husband’s voice as you took the pan from the oven and straightened, setting it to cool out of your baby’s reach. You turned and saw Din had changed into a soft white shirt and brown pants, his suspenders resting against his hips, his hair dark and curly from his shower.

“I’ve got quite a view, too,” you said, a little bashful as he smiled and crossed to you. You only had a moment to admire the endearing crinkles by his eyes before he kissed you, all tenderness and affection.

Your little one cooed and you both looked down to see him standing on the top of Din’s boot, tugging on his pants leg and giving uppy arms. Din chuckled and scooped him up, cradling him with one arm and drawing you close with the other.

“Let’s go somewhere fun today,” he said. “This system has some beautiful planets. We can have a picnic or something.”

You smiled. “Okay,” you agreed. You were a little surprised, as Din wasn’t usually very spontaneous, but the idea of a day spent just spending time with him and your baby sounded lovely. “Where should we go?”

He kissed your forehead. “I’ll go look and see what we’re closest to.”

He took the baby up to the cockpit with him to scan the nearby planets, giving you a few minutes for your own shower. You took two slices of uj’alayi when you went to join them; you gave one to Din, and he broke off little pieces to share with the baby.

“I think we decided on a planet,” Din said, indicating the display on the instrument panel.

“Baraan-Fa,” you read. “It’s forested, low population... is it safe?”

He shrugged. “Should be, with the place we’re landing. Most of the population density is around the town and the old Rebel base, so we shouldn’t run into anybody.”

You took your seat, happily taking your baby when Din handed him over to you so he could set your course. You were amused to see that your little one had succeeded in charming Din into giving him the silver handle off the gear shift, and he held it up for you to see.

“Your daddy must love you,” you cooed to him.

Din glanced back at you, his expression bemused before he saw what you were talking about. His smile was a little exasperated.

“Maybe we should get him some actual toys.”

You laughed. “He wouldn’t play with them even if we did, honey. He wants to be like you.”

“Yeah.” Din’s expression was soft with affection, and you knew he didn’t really mind that his son had chosen a part of the ship for his plaything. He turned back to focus on bringing the Crest into Baraan-Fa’s atmosphere, and you and your baby looked out the windows in pleasantly surprised wonder at the beauty of the planet. Every inch of it was green, hilly grasslands with blue rivers snaking through the forests. Din expertly landed in a small clearing in the middle of a wooded area, settling the Crest into a glade dappled with sunlight.

No sooner had the ship landed than you were out of your seat and downstairs, impatiently waiting for the ramp to lower as the welcoming breeze flooded into the Crest’s hull. You set your baby down on the soft grass and let him explore a little, tilting your head back to feel the sun on your face, breathing deeply of the clean air.

“You like it?” Din asked. You opened your eyes to see him leaned against the door frame, watching you with a gentle smile. You would have beamed back at him and told him how much you loved it had it not been for the sudden concern you felt at his appearance.

“You’re not wearing your armor,” you said. Checking briefly to make sure the baby hadn’t wandered too far, you stepped up the ramp towards your husband and made to steer him back inside the Crest’s relative privacy.

“Din - ” you protested when he gave a soft laugh and captured your wrists in a gentle grip, just as you had put your hands on his chest to push him back inside. “What if someone sees?”

He held both of your hands close to his heart. “There’s nobody here, cyare. I checked. It’s sweet of you to worry, but you don’t have to.”

You gave him a doubtful look. “You’re going to be out here without a helmet?” That sounded awfully reckless to you.

“I want to be able to kiss you,” he said, giving you a chaste kiss to illustrate his point. “And I want to swim in the river and feel the sun on my face. Can’t do all that with beskar on, now can I?”

You sighed. “No, but...” You met his eyes. “It doesn’t frighten you?”

He softened. “Sure it does,” he admitted. “A little. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve been out of the Crest without armor on. But that’s exactly why I want to. And if there’s no danger of anyone seeing me... I think it’ll be alright.”

He tapped the bracelet on your wrist, a modified version of his vambrace with the same remote controls of the Crest programmed in. “Besides, I told the Crest to alert us if there’s anyone nearby. It’ll be alright.”

You reached up to brush your fingers through his hair. “Well, it would be nice to see your face,” you said. “If you’re sure about it.”

He smiled and kissed you again. “I’m sure, cyar’ika. Come on, let’s go get our son before he wanders right into the river.”

You looped your arm through his, feeling like one of the promenading couples you always saw growing up on Naboo. He was a bit scruffier and dressed more casually than any young man on Naboo would be, but you liked him that way. 

As he led you on a leisurely stroll towards the river, minding your little one closely, you took the opportunity to enjoy being outside with him and being able to see his every expression. Din was nothing if not expressive, especially in his brow, and his face was alight with a happiness and peace that made his handsome features all the more alluring.

“Is there a word in Mando’a for ‘very handsome’?” you asked.

He looked over at you with a touch of confusion, either playing coy or just being genuinely oblivious. You suspected the latter, and it was endearing to you.

“No,” he said. “But there’s ‘very beautiful’ - ori mesh’la - and it means the same thing.”

You smiled. “Well then, Din, I think you’re ori mesh’la.”

His cheeks pinked. “Well, thank you, cyare,” he said, endearingly bashful. He smiled. “I think you’re ori mesh’la, too.”

You could have watched his face forever, charmed by his blush and the way his curls looked in the sun, but your baby gave an excited babble and drew you attention. Just in time, too, as he was barrelling full-speed towards the river without a care in the world.

“Oh, ad’ika,” you chided, unwinding yourself from Din and scooping your baby up before he reached the water. His ears drooped as you held him.

 “I know you want to go in, my love,” you cooed. “But you have to be careful.”

You saw why he’d been so eager to get in the water - the riverbed was covered in bright, colorful stones, glinting where they caught the sun through the water. You knelt on the bank and held your baby in your lap, reaching into the pleasantly cool water to scoop up a handful of the stones.

“Look how pretty,” you said, drawing them close so he could take a few. He grabbed the biggest one and turned it over in his claws, mesmerized by the opalescent shimmer.

“Batu,” he said, holding it up for you to see. You smiled. You and Din hadn’t quite figured out what “batu” meant, but it seemed to signal his approval, and you were always pleased to hear it.

“I see,” you said, charmed by his enthusiasm. “Show daddy.”

You stood and turned to face Din, who was watching the two of you with a gentle smile on his face. His brow quirked in excitement when he saw his baby holding the stone out to him.

“Look at that, ad’ika,” he said, coming close to examine it.

“Batu,” your baby said again. Din grinned.

“Yeah, ‘batu’,” he repeated. “You want to go find some more?”

At your little one’s happy coo, you and Din kicked off your shoes to wade into the shallow river. Din rolled the hem of his trousers as well as yours, since your hands were full with the baby, and pressed a kiss to your thigh before he rose.

The water lapped just above your ankles with the gentle current, and you spent a few minutes looking through the clear water to find the stones you thought were prettiest. Your baby wriggled to be put down, but the water was a little too deep for him, and you settled on drawing up handfuls of rocks for him to sort through.

“Hey, cyare, look at this one.”

You turned to see the stone your husband had found and were met with a splash of water.

“Din!” you squeaked, a smile crossing your face. Your baby giggled with delight at having been splashed, and the sound mixed with Din’s warm laughter.

“Sorry, love,” he chuckled. “Couldn’t resist.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. You bent down and splashed him back, getting him more thoroughly than he’d gotten you; he laughed and sputtered as he wiped his face on the shoulder of his shirt.

“That was so much worse than mine,” he said. “You’re awful.”

“Good thing you like me so much,” you said cooly.

He grinned. “Yeah, lucky you.” He kissed you and brushed the water from your face. You’d grown accustomed to the feel of his leather gloves, but you’d always prefer the gentleness of his hands, rough from years of hard work but always touching you in love. 

Pressed between the two of you and impatient to get in the water, your baby patted Din’s chest and babbled up at him.

“Come on, buddy,” Din said, taking him from your arms. “You want to swim a little bit?”

“You’re swimming in your clothes?” you asked.

He gave you a wry smile. “Why not? I’m already half-soaked.”

Your smile was slightly guilty. “I'm sorry about that, actually,” you said. “I didn’t mean to splash you so much.”

He chuckled. “I know. I’m not upset. Besides, it’s warm enough that it won’t take very long to dry off.” He nodded towards the bank where a flat rock jutted out over the water. “I was just going to sit over there and let him play where it’s shallow.”

“Oh,” you said. “Well, in that case, I’ll sit with you.”

You played with them for a long while, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Din while he held your baby’s hands and let him splash around in the shallow water. Despite his excitement, your baby was a little hesitant once he was actually in the water, and held tightly to Din’s fingers. As his fear eased and his confidence grew, he was happy to stay within his dad’s reach and only occasionally grabbed onto Din’s trouser leg when he lost his balance. His outfit was thoroughly soaked within minutes of his delighted splashing, but he didn’t seem to mind; he played happily and kept handing rocks to you, and you cooed over every one. 

You might have stayed with them and watched your little one play for hours on end if it hadn’t been for Din’s stomach starting to growl; you realized you were hungry too and playfully nudged your shoulder against his.

“Should I go get us some lunch?” you asked.

His smile was a little sheepish. “If you wouldn't mind,” he said. “I can get it, if you don’t want to.”

You ran a hand over his back. “I don’t mind,” you assured him. “What do you want to eat?”

“Whatever,” he said. “You know me.”

“So, just a whole ori'skraan, then?” you teased. Mandalorians always had big elaborate feasts at their celebrations to make up for the fact that they ate rations more often than not, since they were easier while on a hunt; you’d had the pleasure of attending a few during your marriage, including the one at your wedding.

Your husband grinned. “That’ll be just fine, cyare.”

You kissed his cheek before you stood, waving goodbye to your baby. You heard Din console your little one as you left towards the ship, explaining that you’d be right back.

You found the length of fabric you used for a baby sling and tied it around you like Din had shown you; Mandalorians carried their babies in a birikaad, to keep their hands free for fighting, and this was nearly identical to that style. You filled the sling with food from your pantry, wrapping up a few slices of the uj’alayi cake for dessert, and folded up one of the spare blankets to picnic on.

You heard Din singing as you walked back to the river. You almost didn’t realize it was him, at first - he was usually so shy about his singing voice, and he reserved it for lullabies when your baby was very fussy or drinking songs when he was deep in his cups with friends. He sang to you, occasionally, when you asked him to, and he was always endearingly bashful.

His voice carried over the clearing, mixing with the sound of the river and your baby’s happy laughter, and you drank it in the closer you got to him. It was a beautiful song, full of longing; Din’s warm baritone made it rich and lovely. The lyrics were in Mando’a, and you were too caught up in the sound of your husband’s voice to translate; you let his voice wash over you, warming you from head to toe.

You didn’t know how long he would have kept singing if your baby hadn’t caught sight of you, giving a happy coo of welcome. Din’s voice cut short as he turned, perhaps fearing you were someone else, but his expression softened into a smile as soon as he saw you.

“Hi,” he said.

You smiled. “Hi.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t stop singing on my account.”

He blushed. “No, I’d been singing that one over and over. I’m sure ad’ika’s tired of hearing it.”

You knew that wasn’t true; your little one calmed faster to Din’s voice than he did to anything else. You didn’t want to embarrass him, though, and carded a hand through your husband’s sun-warmed curls.

“You two hungry?” you asked.

You baby gave an affirmative babble and gave his dad uppy arms; Din obliged him and dried him off a little as you spread out the picnic blanket. Your little one came and sat in your lap as Din helped you set out the food. 

“You missed your mama, didn’t you?” Din said sweetly. You brushed an affectionate hand over your baby’s ears and swapped the bright purple stone he held for a piece of fruit. He watched your hand carefully to make sure you hadn’t really taken his prize away for good; satisfied when you set it next to you on the blanket, he happily ate the bite-sized food you and Din took turns giving to him.

Din took your baby back to the river as you tidied up after lunch, and you were happy to watch and listen to them play as you stretched out on the blanket and read the book you’d taken from the shelf in the bunk. It was a collection of poems that Din had gotten you for your birthday, and even though you’d been excited to read it, you hadn’t had much spare time lately. You were quickly absorbed in the poetry as you read; the sun was warm on your back, and the sounds of your husband and baby playing created a comforting backdrop.

They came back from the river after a while, their hands full of brightly colored stones, their clothes half-soaked, and their expressions as tired as they were happy. Din set your baby down and let him toddle over to you; your little one added his stones to the collection you’d made, his ears perking up as he sorted through them.

“All done?” you asked, giving Din a gentle smile as he dropped his handful of stones into the pile. 

He hummed in agreement. “For now, anyways. He probably needs a rest.”

Your husband gave a soft groan as he lay beside you, tired and comfortable in the warm sun. “Your baby is a pretty good swimmer, mama.”

You closed your book and looked over at your little one; his smile was wide at his dad’s praise, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“I saw,” you said, tapping his nose and earning a giggle in response. “Did you like swimming with daddy?”

Your little one gave an affirmative coo as he abandoned the rocks and climbed up onto Din; with a great big yawn for such a little thing, he lay on Din’s chest and snuggled close when Din laid a hand over his back.

“Tired you out, didn’t it, ad’ika?” you said gently, brushing a finger over his ear. You looked to Din’s face and saw he was already dozing too.

You smiled. “Wore your daddy out too, I see.” His hair was light in the sun, almost golden in some places; his cheeks were rosy and sunkissed under his scruff, his expression peaceful and soft.

You kissed his cheek. “Did you know I love you?”

He gave a soft smile. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.” He turned his face towards you, your noses bumping together, his kisses tender and drowsy. You brushed your fingers through his hair.

“You’re gonna take a nap?” you asked, keeping your voice soft for your baby’s sake. He was already asleep, curled snugly under his dad’s hand, rocked by the gentle rise and fall of Din’s chest.

Din gave a content sigh. “Maybe. Lay here with me, cyare.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I’m not going anywhere, honey.” You kissed the bridge of his nose. “You want me to read to you?”

He nodded, moving his free hand to rest on the curve of your lower back. “What book is it?”

“The one you gave me for my birthday,” you said, flipping through the pages until you found where you’d left off. “Ancient Keltrian Poets, remember?”

He hummed in agreement. “You like it?”

“I love it,” you said sincerely. “Here - I was in the middle of this one, but I’ll start it from the beginning.”

You read to him for a while, pausing to underline or make notes when you found a line you really liked; his fingers drew circles on your lower back as he listened and made a few comments here and there.

“For stars, innumerable, leapt everywhere,” you read. “Almost every gaze upwards became welded to the swift hazard of their play, and our heart felt like a single thing beneath that vast disintegration of their brilliance.”

You traced your fingers over that stanza. “That’s kind of like our vows, don’t you think? ‘We are one when together, we are one when parted.’ Our heart feels like a single thing.”

When you didn’t get an answer, you looked over at your husband. “Din?”

He shifted a little, and you realized he’d fallen asleep. 

“Alright, cyare?” he mumbled.

“Sorry,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He ran his hand over your back. “That’s ok, love.” Even mostly asleep, he still comforted you with intentional gentleness. “What did you say?”

You smiled. “Nothing. Just that I love you.”

He tilted his chin up just a little, asking for a kiss; you obliged him, gently pressing your mouth to his.

“Keep reading,” he said. “I love the sound of your voice.”

You softened. “I love the sound of your voice, too.” You brushed a wayward curl from his forehead. “What was that song you were singing earlier?”

A flicker of a smile crossed his face. “Naasad'guur mhi,” he said. “It’s a drinking song.”

“It’s pretty,” you said.

He hummed in agreement.

“What’s it about?” you asked.

“It says, ‘nobody likes us, we don’t care, we are the elite Mando boys from Mandalore.’”

You laughed. “That’s really what it says?”

He smiled. “Yeah. It sounds really nice when you have a bunch of people singing it all together.”

You gently ran your knuckles over his scruff. “Will you sing it for me later?”

“Sure, cyare. If you want me to.”

You settled closer to him and flipped the page to the next poem, reading it aloud a bit more quietly than you would have usually. Din’s breathing evened out until he was snoring softly; you smiled when you saw the way your baby had a fistful of Din’s shirt held tightly in his hand. The sound of the river kept you company as you read about stars and rainstorms and fields of aura blossoms; Din’s warmth beside you was comforting and steady. Days of rest and peace were few and far between for your little family, but they were sweeter for it; you held tightly to them when they came, and always thanked the jate’kara for days like these.

series taglist: @kyjoraven​​​​​, @sarahjkl82-blog​​​​​, @remmysbounty​​​​​, @bitchin-beskar​​​​​, @cosmicbreathe​​​​​, @prettyboyskywalker​​​​​, @happyxdayxbitch​​​​​, @radiowallet​​​​​​, @marvelous-glims​​ ♡

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[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #5: Pretty Please? -  Hawks

In which you and Keigo coin a few new petnames for one another.

Characters: Takami Keigo (Hawks) / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), daddy kink, dom!Hawks, vaginal sex, a touch of begging, inappropriate use of gen Z social media apps

Notes: This man is getting dangerously close to the top of my simp list. It’s really becoming an issue. Today’s prompt is ‘Daddy Kink.’ Also, I didn’t come up with ‘kid’ as a nickname that Hawks uses... if u know, u know

Kinktober Masterlist

“How long have you been here?”

Keigo’s voice echoes in the hallway of his little apartment soon after you hear the jingle of his keys in the lock. While it certainly isn’t your first time coming to his place without him, you’re still not quite used to the appearance of that silvery little key dangling from your key ring.

Nor are you used to hanging around the place by yourself. You spent the morning in a coffee shop around the corner, working away- popping by the agency to see Keigo over lunch. He’d told you to come back here if you needed somewhere quiet to work- bonus points, since you’d be here waiting when he got home.

“Came straight after lunch,” you call absently. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you finish your thought, typing out your last email of the day. As soon as you hit send you snap the laptop shut, pushing it gently across the kitchen counter while climbing out of your chair.

“Hi,” you purr, catching up to him in the hallway. You grab his hand and he pauses, leaning in to peck your lips. When he pulls back, he’s got a lazy smirk drawn across his mouth.

“How you been, kid? Sure feels good comin’ home to you at the end of the day.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you tease, pushing your shoulder against his. You lean down and nuzzle his jaw, letting your cheek scrape against his scruff. “I’m a strong, independent woman.”

“Which is exactly why I love you,” he replies. He grabs your chin and pulls your mouth back to his, catching it in a kiss that would have surprised you with its tenderness, if you didn’t know him so well.

When you first met, he played the Cheshire Cat role eagerly. Smirking at you, pulling lines on you, making you think he was the laid-back hero that everybody knew him as. But the more time you spend with him, the more he opens up. The more he lets himself be vulnerable to you. And you him. You’d never meant to let him in so easily, but…

Here you are.

You flop down on the couch together, Keigo leaning against one arm while you keep your head cradled in his lap. He’s happy to fold his wings over the back of the couch and absently stroke your hair while you catch up a little. It’s only been a few hours since you’ve last seen one another, so you settle quickly into comfortable silence.

That’s when you open your phone, idly opening Tik Tok and starting to scroll. Every so often you come across a video related to Hawks. He’s got a lot of fans out there- and a lot of fangirls, too. You don’t mind, though. Sometimes they get a little too personal, however, and you like to scroll.

This time around, you don’t scroll fast enough.

You don’t catch the whole video, but it’s a clip of Keigo that somebody took on their phone. Suddenly, the audio cuts out and it’s interrupted by the sound of a female voice, moaning more obscenely than you could ever hope to.

“Daddy,” it mewls, and you scroll so fast the phone almost topples out of your fingers.

Frozen, you pull your eyes carefully up to meet the gaze of your boyfriend. He definitely heard. And while he knows that Tik Tok can pull up some random videos at times, you can see the flush spreading across his cheeks.

He shifts a little underneath you, hand paused on top of your head. He clears his throat.

“What was that?”

You consider your next words carefully.

“…A video.”

He swallows hard and licks his lips.

“What kind of video?”

Suddenly, it hits you. You have the reins. You realize exactly what’s going through his head. And the next time you look up at him, it’s with a wicked smirk stretching your lips.

“Why do you want to know?” You ask, and your voice has taken on the low sort of drawl that makes him shift again underneath you. “Don’t tell me you like the sound of that… Daddy.”

You feel the barest vibration in his chest as a tiny groan escapes him. He doesn’t move, but you can see the way his wings bristle, the joints stiffening a little as his feathers spread. Your stomach jolts excitedly.

“Don’t call me that,” he grunts, but you know he doesn’t mean it.

The two of you are far from vanilla most nights. You’re definitely up for a little experimentation. And pet names flow between you like water. But this feels… different. This feels controversial.

Oh, fuck. You’re into it, too.

“You do.” You scramble into a sitting position, swinging one knee over his thighs. He looks up at you with a pair of lidded tawny eyes, his jaw drawn slack in an expression that spells sheer arousal to you. You know that face well, and it makes your body ache.

“Do you want me to call you Daddy from now on?” You’re not letting up, and as you lean forward, his hands find your hips. They squeeze. Hard. His wings fan a gentle breeze over your face, and you love the way his breath hitches in your ear.

“Fuck, stop,” he groans. It’s more desperate this time, and as his hips keen against yours you can tell just how hard this is hitting him. He’s half-hard already, straining against the thick denim between you.

“Maybe now’s the time to tell you,” you whisper, “how bad I’ve wanted you all day, Daddy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all afternoon. I even thought about ducking into your room before-”

That breaks him, and he snatches your hips and stands abruptly. He’s strong enough to carry you easily, and he lifts your thighs securely around his hips before beelining for the bedroom.

When you get there, instead of being spread on your back like the pillow princess he’ll normally let you pretend to be, he pushes you face-down into the pillows, letting your hips hang off the edge of his wide bed. He bends close, his chest brushing the column of your spine as his jaw brushes your ear.

“You brought this on yourself, kid,” he gruffs. He’s already working your sweater up your back. You lift your torso enough for him to wedge it off of you, but he doesn’t wait for you to do the same before he’s peeling your leggings down your thighs and taking your thong with it. The second your ass is bare he brings his palm down across it with a resounding snap.

“Kei-” you start to gasp, but he quickly silences you with another spank that draws a yelp from your throat.

“You started this,” he grunts, “you’re gonna finish it. What’s that you were gonna call me?”

You suck in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter shut. You deserve this. You want it. All you have to do is take the plunge. The rest will follow. That breath you drew before gets held for a moment. And then you jump.

“Daddy,” you whimper, throwing an extra edge of desperation into it, “don’t tease me.”

“Shit, kid,” he grunts. His belt jingles as he gets his pants undone, and you hear them hit the floor. A breeze from his wings and another pile of fabric hitting the carpet determines that he’s naked now. He’s left your leggings partially on, though, keeping your legs pressed tightly together at the knees.

He knows what he’s doing.

When he steps up behind you again it’s with the warm presence of his bare skin on yours, and you feel the brush of his hand against the back of your thigh, gentle and rhythmic. He’s stroking his cock and you want more than anything to turn your head and sneak a peek, but you know that doesn’t fit into the game you’re playing.

“You ready for me, sweetness?”

He slips a hand between your legs, drawing his thumb along your slit and making you shiver. You could use a little more time, but you’re wet already. He drags his slick thumb down to the swell of your clit and circles it. The tender nerves are already pinched between your thighs, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck harshly back against him.

Your ass connects with his thighs and he steps back a little, chuckling as he lays one hand in the small of your back to steady you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted something,” he drawls, continuing to circle your clit with that lazy thumb. It’s making your toes curl against the wood floor as stars explode behind your eyelids.

He leans in close. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

“You know what it is,” you choke, because it won’t be any fun at all if you fold right away.

“I know,” he quips, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I just wanna hear you say it.” He draws his thumb across your clit in a sudden swipe, making your whole body jump. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you plead, and he chuckles so low and feral it sends vibrations up your spine. He shifts forward again, hand still pushing you into the mattress. His thumb leaves your clit, but it’s soon replaced by the head of his cock, pressing flush against your slick pussy. You can feel it now that he’s touching you- you’re soaked.

“Now how am I s’posed to say no, baby, when you ask so- ah- nicely?”

His voice breaks as he pushes in, and your whine comes in sync with it. You’re always amazed at how perfectly the two of you seem to fit together. There’s a stretch, but no pain. There’s never been pain. And on top of that, the thirsty Twitter accounts are right.

Your man knows how to fuck.

He bottoms out inside you, sliding a palm to your ass, and lets out a breathy groan. But he’s grinning. You can tell. It’s been a long day for both of you.

For a man who talks so much during foreplay he’s relatively quiet- or, wordless, at least. There’s nothing quiet about the way he grunts as he draws himself back and pumps slowly into you again. He’s testing the waters, but with your thighs pressed together the way they are you’re even tighter than usual.

“Not gonna last long,” he warns headily, and that’s the last thing you hear before he starts to fuck you properly and all your senses go haywire.

When you swim back to the surface, the only sounds in the room are your mingled, laboured breathing, and the rhythmic slap slap slap of his thighs against your ass. There’s something about the angle he’s taking you from- he’s hitting you just right, and you squirm in front of him with a desperate mewl.

“Daddy,” you whine, taking the game and running with it, “daddy, please, I wanna cum.”

“Don’t you worry, sweetness,” he growls behind you, breathless and feral. “Daddy’s not gonna leave you hangin’.”

It sounds different coming out of his mouth. The appeal was already there- anything that turns him on turns you on, too, almost as a direct result. But when you hear it coming from him, it flips your stomach in a way that you could get used to.

He slides an arm beneath your waist and hauls you off the bed, pulling you back against his chest as he continues to fuck up into you. His right hand dances down your hip and between your legs, finding the swollen nub of your clit. He strums it deftly, making you squeal.

“Yeah,” you whimper, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as he holds you close. “Fuck, I’m getting there.”

“Me too, kid,” he pants into your ear. “So damned tight. Fuck, you’re suckin’ the life outta me.”

In another half-dozen thrusts you’re dangling precariously on the edge. He’s still going, hitting you just right and pushing you there one inch at a time. Suddenly he re-centers his grip on you and comes back with renewed ferocity. His rhythm doubles.

You fall.

Your orgasm is particularly spectacular this time around. Your spine goes concave as your legs go fluid. You reach back and grab at his hips as you keen and twitch and rock through the pleasure. Your pussy convulses around his cock and his hips stutter. He grabs you hard, holding you up as he explodes, warm and liquid inside you.

When it’s over, you both collapse onto the mattress. Outside, the sun is painting brilliant streaks of apricot across the sky. A gentle autumn breeze flutters the curtains. You finally catch your breath.

“So,” you sigh, turning your head where it’s cradled on his chest. His body is beautiful, and now that you’ve finally got the chance to look you don’t take it for granted. He’s all long lines and clean muscle, dusted over with tawny hair and the last kisses of the summer sun.

He’s kissing your shoulder as you speak up, one scarlet wing folded neatly at his shoulder, the other fanned out across the bed.

“It’s gonna be Daddy, then, is it?”

He snorts, smirking against your skin.

“Sure didn’t sound like you had a problem with it two minutes ago.”

“I don’t,” you quip, tracing a finger down his sternum. “I liked it. I…” You trail off, and your ears warm. “I liked it.”

He pulls back from your shoulder and rests his head against the pillow beneath him, his eyes casting over your face. Warm and loving and heartbreakingly genuine despite the… sensitive nature of your conversation.

“So did I,” he purrs, and you fall silent for another few minutes. Decompressing. Basking, he’ll say later on. Inevitably, the needs of the evening step in, and as the last rays of light fade from the city you lift your head.

“Dinner?”

His eyes were closed, but they slide slowly open again at the sound of your voice. In the dim like this, they’re the colour of almonds, always soft when they’re looking you over. You fall a little more in love with him every time he looks at you like that.

Then he shoots you a near-boyish crooked grin and your heart warms all over again.

“Whatever you want, kid.”

[mummybear]

Borrowed Time - Chapter One - The New Guy

Words: 3173

Warnings: Swearing... think that’s it for this chapter :)

Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Mark (OC), Tiffany (OC), Mentions of Sam Winchester

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

A/N: So this is the first series I’ve written in a while or at least the first one I’ve posted! So I hope you guys like it! The next chapters will be out every Friday, until it’s finished :) The series will probably only be around 6 chapters long, but I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know If you want to be tagged in this series or in any of my other taglists :D

Beta: @negans-lucille-tblr​ Thanks babe ❤😘

Kofi: https://ko-fi.com/mummybear

Series Masterlist

You let out a shaky breath as you take your seat at the back of the class, hoping that he will just leave you alone today. One of the new guys at school had developed a thing for you, ever since you’d ignored him on his first day, it was like he was determined to get you to talk to him. Lately though he’s been getting under your skin, and you’re so close to giving in. Sure the guy was hot, in fact, he may have been the hottest guy you’d ever seen, but he was also one of the biggest players in the school. The exception being in the last two weeks, where he had barely spoken to another girl who wasn’t you. Safe to say that had started the rumour mill. Then you hear the murmuring starting in the room, and that unmistakable feeling prickles across your skin.

You fight the urge to look up, but it’s like your eyes are drawn to him, like some kind of magnet is connecting the two of you. You finally give in and look up to find him already watching you, gorgeous green eyes locked on yours. Trying to look away is pointless, you know that by now. You do you best to calm your nerves enough so that you’re finally able to drop your eyes to your desk, and start pulling out the things you need for the upcoming lesson. 

That doesn’t stop your entire body tensing when the chair beside you scrapes along the floor loudly as it’s pulled out. It’s almost like you can feel the eyes of everyone in the hall turn on you. You can’t control the way that your body responds to the sound of his deep voice.

“Mind if I sit here, Y/N?” he asks quietly. You try and ignore the gasps that practically echo around the large room, as you force yourself to look up at him again.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat you nod.

“Um, yeah, sure. If you want to,” you answer shakily. You hate how your voice sounds, but if he’s noticed then he doesn’t let on. He gives you one of those panty dropping smiles as he takes the seat next to you, and you could swear your entire face flames bright red.

You inwardly roll your eyes when you see Tiffany Chase heading over to your table. You never understood how she had come to be the most popular girl on the campus, but clearly dating every guy in existence was a good trait to have these days. That was yet another reason you were glad about not being “popular”, whatever the hell that even meant. 

She leans on your desk, until her tits are practically in Dean’s face, but to his credit, and your surprise he doesn’t look. Instead he sits back in his chair, eyes immediately fixed on hers, not wandering her body, or the cleavage she's so blatantly offering him. She makes a point not to even spare you a glance, which is completely fine since you have no interest in what she’s giving away.

“I thought you were gonna show me your car, baby? Why don’t you ditch the charity case and come and have some fun with a real woman?” she purrs seductively, curling her fingers around Dean’s loose tie.

You wish you were anywhere but here, but you know there’s no other seats in class now, so your only other option is to pray for the ground to swallow you whole. You’re a little taken aback though when Dean’s large hand wraps around her tiny wrist and pulls her hand away, still remaining surprisingly gentle, especially with the look of thunder that’s overtaken his features.

“Sorry, Tilly. Change of plans, I told you last week, and a few times this week… if memory serves. Besides, there’s only room for one woman in my life.” As he says this you feel his hand resting on your knee, and you turn to look at him to tell him to move. But you stop yourself when you see the pleading look on his face.

Tiffany scoffs in disbelief, and has a look on her face like he just slapped her. 

“It’s Tiffany,” she corrects him sharply, before she turns her gaze on you. And you have to fight every instinct not to push your body back into your chair, instead you sit straighter, trying to keep your face neutral.

“Can you like… move or something. Dean and I really need to talk, I think you’re making him uncomfortable,” she huffs, as if your mere presence disgusts her. 

“Sorry, Tiff. I think you're the one  who’s making my boyfriend uncomfortable, actually. He’s just being too polite, could you please just leave us alone now? I believe he’s asked you enough.” 

It takes everything you have not to throw up the contents of your stomach, where the fuck did that come from?! You inwardly scold yourself, trying to hold your nerve. But to your surprise, Dean takes your hand and gives it a squeeze, and throws his other arm over your shoulder.

His lips press to your ear, and you can’t hold back the shiver.

“Thank you, I owe you,” he whispers, and you can already feel the blush creeping up your neck, the entire class is staring at the three of you like you’re aliens. But Dean’s currently more than enough of a distraction.

Her shrill laugh echoes around the room, followed by most of her bitch club behind her.

“Oh sweetie, no. Don’t be silly now. There is no way on this planet that you could be his girlfriend, you’d be extremely lucky to get a pity fuck with a normal guy, but Dean? No way. Now move, before I move you.” 

Your heart drops into your stomach, but you refuse to look away from her. However, before you can even utter a word, Dean’s voice drops to a low growl.

“I don’t give a shit about your name, or you. You don’t get to talk to her like that, and you lay a finger on her, I promise you’ll regret it. So, whatever your name is, unless you want me to tell Mark that you’re trying to fuck me... and just about every other guy you set your eyes on, I suggest you go back to your own seat. But first, I think you owe my girlfriend a fucking apology.” You watch the colour all but drain from her face.

You lick your lips nervously as you turn to look at him, seeing the fire burning in his eyes, but his eyes don’t move from Tiffany’s face. 

“Dean, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter,” you whisper sounding a little desperate even to your own ears. You rest your hand on his tensed bicep, trying to ignore the way you're clamping your thighs together, because this might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever been a part of. Even if you had only started this ruse to get him out of an awkward situation. Nobody had ever defended you like this before, especially not this publicly.

“Oh, it does matter, baby girl. Isn’t that right?” Dean asks, mock sweetness in his voice and his arm tightens around your shoulders.

“F-Fine. I’m sorry, Y/N,” she responds the best she can with the amount her voice is shaking, before hurrying back to her friends.

The teacher walks in the classroom, forcing everyone's attention to the front, and you try to ignore the sense of loss you feel when his arm leaves your shoulders. But that feeling is quickly replaced when he takes your hand and links your fingers with his, and rests them on the table top between you.

“Dean, we should talk,” you whisper, when the teacher turns back to the board.

“Later, sweetheart, wouldn’t want you getting in trouble,” he smirks, pressing a lingering kiss to your already flaming red cheek.

-

Unfortunately, you don’t get time to talk to Dean, and you don’t see him after your last lesson either. You try to ignore the snickering and staring as you start to walk through the parking lot to make your way home, though it affects you more than you’d care to admit. When you don’t see any sign of him, you continue to walk lost in thought, knowing that it will take you at least half an hour but it’s worth it, because you can’t stay here. 

You’ve been walking for about ten minutes when you hear a car roll to a stop behind you, the soft purr of the engine calming slightly as the window is wound down. You can’t help but smile as you turn around, and sure enough, there he is. Sitting in the driver's seat with a cocky smirk on his face. He leans over to the passenger side and pushes the door open, “you gonna get in, sweetheart? We can talk while I drive you home.” 

You walk closer and fold your arms over your chest, raising your eyebrows at him through the now open car door.

“And what makes you so sure I wanna get in your car?” you ask through your own smirk.

“Come on now, is that any way to speak to your boyfriend? Just get that sexy ass in the car so that we can talk.” There’s a teasing note to his voice, and your smile widens despite yourself.

“Fine. I’ll get in… but only because we do need to talk,” you tell him, trying not to laugh as you climb in the front seat and close the door behind you.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, princess,” he laughs, tossing his sunglasses in the backseat. You give him your address, and he quickly works out the new route, before starting to drive again. He clears his throat and shifts awkwardly where he sits, before glancing between you and the road.

“I owe you, for what you did today in class. You didn’t need to save my ass, but you did it anyway. I really appreciate that.”

You blush shyly as you look at him, “I was going to apologise honestly. I don’t know what came over me, I guess I just wanted to help out… somehow, I know people can be a lot for anyone, no matter who you are,” you laugh awkwardly, rubbing your clammy hands over your skirt.

Dean shakes his head, and a smile crosses his plump lips. 

“Sweetheart, don’t apologise, you did me a massive favour and I really can’t thank you enough,” he sighs regretfully, as he pulls into your driveway. 

You thank him for the ride, but before you move to climb out of the car he grabs hold of your wrist gently, and you turn back to him questioningly.

“Is everything okay, Dean?” you ask nervously, wondering what he might say. You’re not sure whether to lean in or turn away when he turns in his seat to face you.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you with a smile, “can I have your number?” You’re a little surprised at how shy he sounds, but you smile as you take his phone. 

“I just think it might be a little odd trying to play along with this, especially if we can’t even get ahold of each other.”

“You make a good point there, Winchester. But for the record, I would’ve given it to you anyway,” you smile fondly, phoning yourself from his phone, so that you have each other’s numbers, before handing it back.

“So… How long do you wanna play boyfriend and girlfriend?” you wonder aloud, noticing the way that he blushes and scratches at the back of his neck, before focusing back on you again.

Dean clears his throat and shifts closer to you.

“About that…” he trails off, and you feel a blanket of nervous confusion settle between the two of you.

“What about it?” you question nervously.

“Would you be okay if we stayed together, at least until I have to leave town, I know it’s a lot to ask, but…” before he can continue you cut him off, resting a hand on his thigh.

His eyes snap to yours, and you quickly pull your hand away and clear your throat.

“You don’t need to explain, Dean. Besides, it was my dumb ass that got us into this mess. It’s really the least I can do,” you smile genuinely, and an obvious moment passes between the two of you, a moment which is completely unexplainable. But there’s a knock on the window closest to you that pulls the two of you out of it.

You jump back harshly, your back practically slamming into Dean’s shoulder when someone leans against his car, and his head is already half way through the window.

“Damn, I almost didn’t believe it when Tiff told me you were seein’ some frigid bitch, Dean. You hit that yet?”

Dean growls, and you can feel him stiffen beside you as he wraps a protective arm around your waist, like he can shield you from Mark’s words. It’s actually really sweet of him.

“Maybe you should tell your girlfriend to mind her own fucking business, and you should do the same, Mark. Before I put you on your skinny little ass.” 

Mark lets out a deep boom of a laugh, and leans further into the car, his eyes sweeping over your body, clearly not taking Dean’s words seriously. It makes you feel nothing like Dean makes you feel when he looks at you, this guy makes your skin crawl and your stomach lurch.

“Shit, that’s gotta be one sweet pussy if she’s got you so whipped already.” 

Before Dean can speak, you sit up a little straighter, and glare at Mark. Feeling Dean stiffen behind you gives you the confidence you need to get these words out.

“Why don’t you tell your whore of a girlfriend to stop trying to fuck my man, it’s really kind of pathetic. He’s not interested,” you huff out, hardly able to stand looking at him, so you turn to face Dean who’s smirking right at you, and way closer than you’d first imagined.

Mark starts to grumble something behind the two of you, but neither of you are really listening, and you can’t stop staring at Dean as he cups your cheek in his big hand.

“What she said,” Dean agrees easily, his husky voice sending shivers up your spine. You let his thumb brush your bottom lip, “you’re even sexier than usual when you’re jealous,” he smirks confidently, leaning in a little closer.

You swallow thickly, your fingers just barely manage to wrap around his wrist.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, watching as his eyes flick down to your lips, and he licks his own. There are so many reasons this is a bad idea, but for the life of you you can’t currently think of any. 

Dean doesn’t even hesitate, before you can blink his lips are pressing against yours. The kiss is firm and his lips are so soft that you quickly lose yourself in the kiss, and you feel like your entire body is being drawn in by him. 

He pulls back all too soon. His eyes are lidded as he looks at you, and his hand moves from your jaw, to cup the back of your neck. His hands feel huge, as he tugs lightly at your hair and you gasp against his parted lips. 

“I s-should probably get going,” you whisper shakily, letting your fingers trace over the skin of his chest, where his shirt buttons are undone.

Neither of you even attempt to move, and before you think about it too much your lips are brushing against his again. He pulls you against him tightly and deepens the kiss, making you all but melt against him, and his hands remain firm against you as he effortlessly takes control of the kiss. You feel yourself edging closer, heart pounding in your ears and your head foggy, it takes everything you have to pull away from him, but you just about manage it. Looking up into his lidded eyes as you both pant hard, you swallow thickly and look over your shoulder, relieved to find that Mark has gone.

Dean cups your cheek when you turn back to him, his face the perfect picture of lust. 

“You should go in, sweetheart. Or I might change my mind about letting you go… but I’ll text you tonight, okay?” he rasps, pecking your lips.

You can feel yourself blushing as you nervously bite your lip. 

“What makes you think I want you to let me go?” you giggle as he leans in closer again, he’s so warm and smells incredible. 

“Oh trust me, if this had anything to do with what I want to do, you’d already be screaming my name,” Dean all but growls.

“Dean.” His name is a whisper on your lips, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears again.

Dean lets out a deep groan and shifts awkwardly in his seat.

“Shit, you don’t make it easy on a guy, sweetheart,” he smiles, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You live here by yourself?” he asks suddenly, nodding over to your house, clearly trying to change the subject.

You shake yourself from your heady daze, trying your best to concentrate on what he’s saying.  Clearing your throat you give him a small nod, unable to stop the smile from crossing your lips.

“At the minute, yeah. It’s usually me and my best friend, but she’s away visiting family this week. It’s good though, much closer to campus than my parents’ house,” you explain happily, remembering the way that she had told you to take advantage of the free house, but then you notice a strange look crossing his face.

“Sounds nice. I’ve never really had anywhere like this, my family didn’t really stay anywhere too long, not since my mom died. My dad has to travel a lot for work, and I’m learning the ropes, so I can take over one day.”

Your heart aches for him, and you have no idea how it’s even possible to feel this close to someone you’ve only known for a little over a month.

“I’m so sorry, Dean. It doesn’t sound like you’ve had much time to just be you. If you ever need to get away, I have no intention of moving any time soon, you’re welcome to stay here,” you tell him softly, resting a gentle hand on his arm, until he finally looks at you again.

“Thanks, sweetheart. That means more than you know, and I promise I’ll text you later. We can talk more then, okay?” 

You lean in close and press your lips against his, the kiss lingers a little, before you finally pull away and whisper against his lips, “I’ll be holding you to that, Dean.”

Bold wont tag guys sorry!

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[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. IV

The Royal Series Masterlist

"Your Highness," One helper tipped his head at you before, discreetly, glancing at Harry who was in awe by the surroundings.

"I'm taking Noir on a walk, can you please get her ready for me, Albert?” You asked with a smile.

"Of course, your Highness. I'll get her ready this instant." "And Albert,” you tilted your head, “Don't tell Granny about this unless she asks." You said, watching as he glanced at yours and Harry's intertwined fingers for a split second.

"Of course, your Highness." By nodding at him, he was off to get the white horse ready.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Harry asked, looking down at you.

You looked up at him and a smile instantly was drawn on your face, "I'm not."

He chuckled, shaking his head at you. "Your grandmother hates me, doesn't she? The Queen hates me?"

You sighed, stepping closer and facing him, letting his hand fall from yours as you place your hands on his chest. "She doesn't know you to hate you. She just had," you paused, mind rushing to the plans your grandmother had for you that were the reason behind the tension in the relationship between the both of you, growing uneasy to tell Harry just yet about the Prince she was persistent for you to marry. It was too early to let it slip like that. "She had some plans and dreams for me. But she'll come along when it's the right time." 

"You know I don't want to be the reason to start issues with your family, right? I mean, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that I'm not the person your family wanted you to be associated with."

He was gentle. The emerald green colour that you loved so much was beautifully – almost – painted in his eyes that pooled with care and genuineness.

But despite that, the smile on your lips faltered a little. "Are you having second thoughts?"

Instantly, Harry replied. "No," he shook his head, "Told you I'm not scared, didn't I?"

You hummed, waiting impatiently as he leaned down, pressing lips on to yours in a soft kiss that had your insides fluttering.

"Your Hi-Oh," you pulled away, looking at Albert who blushed, diverting his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry, your highness."

Yours and Harry's cheeks were tinted red as you stepped beside him instead, a small bashful smile on your faces. "It's okay, Albert."

"Noir is ready, your highness."

You grinned excitedly, holding Harry's hand and dragging him behind you inside the stable, giving a "Thank you!" over your shoulder. "Noir is the gentlest horse ever, you'll love her!"

"I haven't ridden a horse since I was so young." Harry chuckled, letting you drag him behind.

"Don't worry, she's friendly when I'm around."

You led him towards a place where you kept the costumes and other safety equipment. "Here," you handed him a brown helmet. "I'm sure there are boots your size."

After helping Harry with the equipment and wearing your own, the both of you walked out of the other end of the stable where you found one of grooms standing beside Noir.

"Good morning, Ken."

"Good morning, your Highness." He smiled, tipping his head.

"This is Harry." You smiled, watching as they greeted each other with a polite nod and a “hello.” Turning to look at Harry, he almost melted at the smile of excitement adorned on your face, "Do you need help getting on?"

Despite looking at the white horse you had talked to him for hours on end, taking it not only its beauty, but size, Harry shook his head.

Watching you gracefully get on the beautiful white horse's back, his hands seemed to grow clammy as you held the reins.

Almost as if he remembered his mother, Anne, taking him and his sister, Gemma, horse riding when they were younger, Harry was thankful that he remembered how to simply get on a horse, though not as graceful as the Princess before him.

He got on Noir's back who fidgeted in her place, only calming when you stroked her hair in assurance, "Easy now."

Harry was seated behind you, his chest to your back which was enough to have you feeling flustered and blushing but nevertheless, you slowly began riding your horse down the greenery. "And this, is Noir."

Harry smiled to himself, his hand stroking the white horse softly. "She's beautiful. Has she been yours for long?"

"Ever since I was 4. She was only a filly of one year when Grandpapa got her for me. This babe is 17 years old." You proudly stated, patting her head.

Amused, Harry let out a small whistle. "She's old."

Gasping feigned shock, you moved one hand to gently swat Harry’s knee, “Where are your manners?” Harry laughed, wrapping one arm around your waist.

“My apologies, dearest Noir.” He said dramatically, making sure his accent sounded thicker.

“Grandpapa has one that’s 23 years old." You giggled, glancing behind your shoulder at him.

"So, the entire family is into horses? I mean, I have seen it in the news of some of your family horse-riding but are they really into it?" Harry asked.

You nodded, "Pretty much. Will, Har, and I were trained when we were only 3. Although we don't ride horses now except for friendly polo matches but Noir here, is someone I frequently take a walk with. Has a special place in my heart." You smiled before giving him a shake of your head, "Enough about me, what's something you used to do back home in Cheshire? It's quiet there, isn't it?"

"It is. Quite peaceful. I actually used to work in a bakery." He sounded so happy about it, almost as if he was reminiscing. Deciding against telling him that you've been a fan for long and knew about the fact, you let him continue. "Barbara, who still works there, would always just pinch my bum. She's the sweetest old, child-at-heart, woman you can ever meet."

You laughed, "You know quite the cheeky people, huh? Even in your shows, your fans can be quite cheeky."

Harry laughed, "Facts,” he nodded as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “Think I can be, too.”

“Oh, I know alright.”

---

"I think-I think this one goes here," you attempted to put the piece of puzzle in your hand in one of the empty spaces as you sat cross legged on Harry's floor, the puzzle on the table in front of you, with Harry sitting right opposite, attempting to complete the picture with you. "Or not."

"I think we should've seen the picture, love." He chuckled, looking at the image you had created that was yet to be comprehendible.

"Where's the fun in that?" You shrugged, "There! We're done with the sky."

"I think it's a tree house, I'm not sure." Harry tilted his head, looking at what you both had finished so far. "Me, too," you nodded, "Like, that's the lad-" You were interrupted by Harry's doorbell, making you look up and towards it.

"I ordered Chinese while you were in the loo, hope that's okay." Harry smiled, standing up.

You tried to hide your shock – and excitement – by nodding, watching as he took his wallet and walked towards the door.

The sound of Harry's socks-clad feet against the floor made you straighten up and clear your throat, attempting to act natural, smiling slightly and looking at him.

"There we go," Harry smiled, putting the bag beside the puzzle you had been trying to complete for the past 40 minutes. He took out two boxes, unaware of your confused but curious face, your eyes traveling between the square boxes. "Chopsticks or fork?"

You didn't even know what was inside but since you knew how to use chopsticks, you answered the former which Harry handed you. He took his box closer to him, opening it, as if he was a natural and so used to it. You, on the other hand, remained wary and in place, eyes only set on the box that was supposedly yours.

As he was about to put the noodles in his mouth, Harry's eyes landed on you, closing his mouth and setting his chopsticks in the box when he noticed your confused face and your untouched box. "Do you not like Chinese, love?"

You hummed, your head snapping towards him. "Wh-what?"

He smiled, seemingly absorbing what his mind was telling him, "I asked, do you not like Chinese?"

You looked bashful; cheeks turning to a tint pink as you put a locket of hair behind your ear. "Well..."

"Y/N?" Harry's tone changed, leaning his head closer, "Have you-Have you never had Chinese?"

At this, it seemed like your entire face was pink. You let out a small groan, covering your face with your hands. "This is so embarrassing."

Harry chuckled in surprise before crawling towards you, "No, no," he took a hold of your wrists, prying them from your face. "Come on, look at me, please."

You let out a soft giggle, looking up at him. "Fine. I've never had-never had whatever that is. They don't allow things like that. Just McDonald’s if it’s a good day."

"So you've never had Chinese takeaway?"

"I just said that, stop making me repeat it." You groaned, looking down.

Harry laughed, wrapping his arm around your and bringing you closer to his chest, hugging you. "Awwwe, Y/N,"

"You're so annoying." You laughed, swatting his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I think it's cute." He assured you, leaning back a little to have you look at him. "It's okay, means you get to try something for the first time with me. So what do you say? Want to give Chinese takeaway a chance?"

You nodded eagerly, looking back at the box and bringing it closer to you, "What's inside?" You looked at him right before opening it.

"Noo-"

"Hush, let me get surprised!" You grinned, opening the box, "Ooo, noodles." Harry chuckled, leaning on his palms and staring at you in amusement. "Is that- Oh, is that chicken?"

"You had sweet and sour chicken on our third date so I figured you'd like it." Harry answered casually, oblivious to the butterflies in your stomach at the fact that he remembered that tiny detail.

"Alright," you smiled, taking a hold of your chopsticks. "Let's do this." You took a hold of some noodles, glancing at Harry before you eat. "I'm so nervous."

Harry grinned, sitting straight and rubbing his hand on your back. "Come on, love. Give it a try." You nodded, putting the noodles in your mouth and slowly chewing so you could get every taste just right. "Well?"

Your eyebrows were raised as you chewed before swallowing, "Oh my God," You quickly dug in for another, making sure to try the chicken.

Harry grinned, wrapping both arms around your waist, "Like it?"

"Love it! What restaurant is that?”

---

You adjusted your brother's, Har's, polo collar as you sat in the car alongside him. "Guess what I had today."

"Hm?"

"Guess what I had today." You repeated impatiently, tugging on your simple and plain navy-blue blouse.

"What?"

"Chinese takeaway." You grinned, nodding as he laughed.

"And how was it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It tasted heavenly! Have you tried it?"

He nodded, "The good ol' rebellion days."

You frowned, "Hey! Why didn't you bring me some?"

He laughed, raising his hands up defensively, "I'm sorry. I'm a fool. Didn’t want them having my neck for staining sweet little Princess Y/N by getting her fast-food that doesn’t go with her diet."

"That you are actually." You smiled, nodding.

"Wait," Your brother furrowed his eyebrows, leaning back the window, "How did you try it?"

"Uh," Your mouth hung open and your hand reached to scratch your temple. "You know, I was out and about this morning."

He hummed slowly, crossing his arms across his chest. "So instead of being saucy and cheeky with your boyfriend, you try Chinese takeaway?"

"One, he's not-not really my boyfriend and two, you want me to get saucy and cheeky with someone?"

"God, no, Y/N," He cringed, his face twisting in disgust. "Let's just, change topics."

You snickered, looking out the window to see your father's home, Clarence House. "We're here." You announce quietly.

Walking inside, you meet up with your oldest brother who instantly greets you with a kiss on the cheek. "Where's Pa?" You ask.

"He-"

"There you are!" William was interrupted by your father's excited and cheerful voice, making the three of you look towards him and Camilla walking towards you.

You grin, letting your father embrace you. "You look lovely, darling."

"Thank you, Pa." You rub his back for a second before pulling away, watching as he moved to greet Will. Camilla instantly opened her arms at you, making you smile as you let her pull you into a hug, feeling her kiss your cheek.

"Shall we get to dinner? Made your favourite, darling," Your father said, holding out his arm for you to link, "Shepherd's pie."

"This is why I love you." You joked, leaning your head on his shoulder for a second as you giggled.

"Only cares about food." William joked as you all walked towards the dining room. "You're my least favourite sibling." You joked, not looking at him.

"This is no way to talk to your older brother, Tiny." William teased you as the rest laughed at your banter.

"The only brother I have is my dearest Har here. I don't know you."

"Y-"

"For the love of God, you two!" Prince Charles laughed, putting his hand on top of yours.

As you took your seats on the table and began eating, it was natural for the family to joke over the smallest thing in the day – that, until one name was mentioned.

"Charles, when's Fred coming tomorrow?" Camilla asked, oblivious to what she started.

Your hand stopped midway, all heads turning to look at you except for Camilla who looked at your father. You let down your fork, looking up to look at Camilla. "If I may ask, who's Fred?"

"You know, Prince Fred." She said before taking a bite of her food.

You looked at your father who sighed and laced his fingers together on the table, avoiding eye contact. "I wasn't aware of your friendship with Prince Fred, Pa."

The tension in the air was thick and enough to have your brothers quietly let down their utensils and look at your father, waiting for an explanation.

"Darling, your grandmother especially requested this dinner with the young man."

"My grandmother requested a lot of things, Pa," You chuckled half-heartedly, "Like marrying him."

"Y/N, I-"

"You told me I can control my own life," you started, shaking your head in disbelief. "What was that then, huh? Were you getting my hopes up for nothing?"

"Of course not, Y/N! Listen, Y/N, it's-" he sighed, closing his eyes momentarily before looking at you, "It's complicated."

"Complicated?" You asked in disbelief, furrowing your eyebrows, "It's my life!" You laughed bitterly in shock.

"You have to understand that it's not easy to change your grandmother's mind and Fred's family is entirely depending on the marriage. We gave them a word years ago, Y/N." He spoke softly, something that contrasted what you felt, “This is politics, darling, and politics is messy.”

You slumped in your seat in disbelief, looking down at your lap for a second.

"I think we should all calm down a little." Your brother, Har suggested gently, glancing between your father to you.

You looked up after taking a breath, tilting your head to look at your father. With a calm and collected voice, you spoke, "I'm not marrying anyone I'm not in love with and no one is changing my goddamn mind." With that, you stood up, your chair screeching as you pushed it back, eyes set on your father, “It’s your word against mine.” And with that, you stormed out of the room, Har instantly standing and jogging after you.

William sighed, rubbing his face with his hands before looking at his father who rested his hand on his temple in distress. "This is unfair to her, and you know it.”

“Your grandmother believes this will strengthen the ties between our family Fred’s! It was agreed on ever since your sister was a child.”

“Well she’s not anymore, is she?” William replied, tossing his napkin on the table before standing up and walking away.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛  Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit. 

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.” 

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

--

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time. 

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle. 

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips. 

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation. 

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

--

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade. 

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

[a-simple-imagine]

New Student

Requested by anonymous: “I was thinking maybe having the reader be a transfer student from Ilvermorny and Hermione tutors her to help her catch up with the curriculum of the new school.”

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings - Prejudice and brief mention of pain

"I understand that your family is of pure descent, correct?" You can't help but fidget in your seat; the vibrant pink of her office was making you extremely uncomfortable. Not to mention the gentle mewing coming from the plates that decorated the walls. It was one thing to love cats but surely this grew annoying after a while. You nod a little as you sit up straighter. The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was currently reading your transfer file. Having once attended school overseas, you were new to Hogwarts but instead of arriving like everyone else you were in your fifth year of education and the term had already begun for everyone else. Of course, your father cleared this with the school ahead of time but it was still embarrassing arriving so late. Not to mention, everyone else had four years of relationships and you were now just some weird new kid. "I do hope you'll consider your friends wisely while attending Hogwarts."

"May I ask what you mean by that Professor?" That was the first question you had asked since stepping through that door and you were very quickly regretting it. The woman wore a sickeningly sweet smile as she lowered the file from before her face.

"As a fifth-year student, you will be expected to take your OWLs this year. Do you believe your last establishment has prepared you for your examinations?"

"I guess," you shrug. You'd never had any trouble getting good grades in the past but Professor Umbridge didn't look convinced. Scribbling something down on her parchment, she pauses for a moment to meet your eyes.

"I would suggest acquiring a tutor for additional support. I can arrange for one of your peers to meet with you."

"That's quite alright, Professor." You dread to think of the tutor she would assign you; probably someone very studious and strict. Boring comes to mind too. "You're much too busy to concern yourself with such a task. I believe I'm quite capable of finding someone on my own."

"It is great to see a young witch taking some initiative," Her smile felt more genuine this time whereas yours was awkward.

"If that is all, may I go?"

"Of course. Run along dear" Slowly rising, you wish you could actually run out of the office and never come back but you proceed calmly. Only stopping by the door when you hear her speak once more. "But do keep in mind what I've said. We wouldn't want you falling in with the wrong kind of wizards while you're here. I expect your last school taught you how to conduct yourself."

"Thank you for your time, Professor Umbridge." With a bow of your head, you slip out the door with a sigh of the utmost relief. She was a very... intense woman to be around. After one meeting, you had another but this time it was with your head of house. Having arrived so late, you didn't partake in the sorting ceremony; which honestly you were kind of grateful for. Having to be sorted with a bunch of eleven-year-olds in front of the whole school definitely would have followed you around. Professor McGonagall briskly glides down the hallway as you stumble a few steps behind. She was the head of Gryffindor.

"I hate to be a bother but Professor Umbridge suggested I get a tutor and I was wondering if you might know a suitable candidate? With having started a few weeks after everyone else and OWLs fast approaching, I thought it was best to be safe than sorry"

"Your transcripts from your previous school don't suggest you'll have much trouble but a tutor may be beneficial," The older woman glanced back at you with a warm smile. "I have the perfect witch for the job. She's a real credit to Gryffindor. You were in Thunderbird previously?"

"Yes ma'am. Thunderbird House was considered to represent the soul of a witch or wizard and favoured adventures," you announce proudly. "I've never felt like much of an adventurer myself though."

"I'm sure you'll be a grand edition to Gryffindor. I may be biased but we're the best house at Hogwarts."

"I don't doubt that," Although you had no clue about any of the other houses to compare. "If you don't mind me asking Professor, where are we going?"

"To introduce you to your new tutor. She's in your first class so I thought I would escort you."

"Oh," You scramble forward a little faster to keep up with the woman; falling into step. "Do you think she'll be enough? I transferred at such an awkward time."

Hogwarts castle was as big as you'd imagine which made the journey to your first class seem like an eternity. As you're led down the hallway and into the dungeon, it's like the atmosphere completely changes. It's dark and cold down here. She comes to a stop outside a classroom, you peer around Professor McGonagall to see students sat at desks with small cauldrons placed before them.

"Can I speak to Miss Granger?" McGonagall asks of the teacher. He didn't seem too happy about the intrusion but he doesn't object. After a moment, a girl with luscious locks of mahogany brown steps through the door; she looks worried.

"Have I done something wrong, Professor?" Her eyes fall to yours and you offer up a small smile which she returns.

"Of course not. I just wanted to introduce you to our newest student. She'll be joining Gryffindor and was in the market for a tutor. As one of the finest students in all of Hogwarts, I thought of you."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in response to the praise. "I would be happy to help, Professor."

It was becoming more clear that whoever this girl was, she was very eager to please. It was written in her body language or the way she addressed McGonagall. She introduces herself as Hermione Granger before heading back into class to ensure she doesn't miss anything. The nerves set in as you realise you're supposed to follow.

"A new student for you, Professor." Guess there was no turning back, you step through the archway. It was rather dull and dark but it matched the feeling of the dungeons. The shelves were lined with varying ingredients and while students had previously been working on potions, now all their attention was drawn to you.

"A little late for new additions," The man spoke slowly; he had a nasally sound to his voice. His displeasure transformed into a scowl aimed directly at you. The whispers of nosey students fill the awkward silence

"I'm-"

"Just take a seat," He demands and you didn't think twice about it. Hurrying to the first open seat you could find. "We don't have time for frivolous introductions."

Potions class had never been something you had struggled with but it seemed that the Professor - whose name you had come to learn as Snape - seemed to be making it as difficult as possible. Every question was thrown at you despite other students who will not be named being so eager to answer them. They were also specific questions such as where to find certain ingredients within the confines of the UK which you had no clue. You knew today was going to be a very long day.

Lunchtime approached and nothing felt more daunting today than being in a room full of students and not knowing a single one. You park yourself down at the end of Gryffindor table, food lined the middle and you grab a few sandwiches placing them on your plate. You're not sure if it's relief or something else when you spot the only girl you knew so far come to join you; followed by some friends.

"McGonagall gave me your timetable," She announces, sitting down opposite you. "and I have created a schedule that ensures we have enough time to cover everything."

"When did you have time to make this?" You wonder, taking a bite of the sandwich you'd picked up. It wasn't half bad.

"Never underestimate Hermione's ability to do a boring task," Next to her sat a boy with ginger hair; he wore a welcoming smile on his face that was peppered with freckles. "I'm Ron by the way."

The others that had arrived alongside Hermione, introduced themselves one by one. There was Ginny Weasley who was related to Ron; even if she hadn't told you it wasn't hard to figure out. Then there was the famous Harry Potter. A name you knew only in passing; rumours spread all around the world about him. Hermione slides a piece of parchment across the table. Along the top sat the days of the week and down the side were hours within the day. They were colour coded by type so each potion class and potion study sessions were in green and so on. Pretty much every square had been filled in with one boring task or another. "This is... a lot."

"Considering our classes this morning, you seem rather behind so I thought it was best that we take every opportunity to bring you up to speed," Having moved to England, the accent and speed in which they spoke was rather hard to understand but you don't bring it up. "We have a lot to cover before exams."

"I'm actually rather good at potions," you protest. "Professor Snape was asking me weird questions. How am I supposed to know where to find things, I've only just moved here."

"Snape can be a right git," Ron mumbles through a mouth full of food.

"You're from America, right?" This time it's Harry who speaks. There's a part of you that wants to ask about his scar but considering you've just met it seemed too rude to voice.

"Yes," you nod. "I attended Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until my father insisted on sending me here once we moved."

"Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in the world." Hermione declares. "Or so I've read."

"I liked my old school," You'd grown used to the mechanics of Ilvermorny plus you had friends there. "Hermione, no offence, but I would kind of like to have a little fun while I'm here and this leaves no time for literally anything else? What about clubs or quidditch?"

"Studying is fun. What could be more beneficial than acquiring new knowledge," Hermione's expression is genuine but you can't see yourself thinking studying is the epitome of fun any time soon. "I will not let Professor McGonagall down by not preparing you properly. So that means hard work- we will start after lunch."

"Is she always like this?" You turn to the others.

"Pretty much." They all agree. Maybe this had been a mistake?

"So you're the new girl, huh?" A shadow lingers over you and you look up to the culprit. That vibrant red hair seemed to be everywhere, you frown a little before looking to Ron.

"Heard you came all the way from America." Another one appears beside him, a broad smile on display. Twins?

"They're my brothers," Ron answers the question before you can even ask. There sure were a lot of Weasleys in this castle.

"How many Weasleys are there?"

"I have six siblings, Ginny is the youngest. Bill, Charlie and Percy have already left though."

"I'm Fred." One of the twins announces, patting your shoulder a little. "The most handsome Weasley brother."

"I'm George and I'm much more handsome than that git," He shoves his brother playfully.

"You're identical twins,"

"No, we're not," George protests. "Fred here is adopted. I can't believe you think we look the same."

"I'm offended you think I look like this tosspot, I'm much prettier." He dramatically pretends to flip his hair over his shoulder.

"We can show you around if you like?" They both offer; as bad as it sounds you knew you were gonna struggle remembering who was who.

"We know every corner of this place." Fred declares

"Every nook and cranny." George continues. "We also the guys to go to if you ever need anything- think fanged frisbees or puking pastels. We've got you covered."

"Uh..." Glancing to your timetable, you hold it up for them to see. "I don't think I'll have time for a tour between classes and study sessions."

"Shame."

"Guess we'll see you around then, Miss America." They both leave you alone to finish your lunch. 

Written down Hermione's schedule was a lot but attending sessions was ten times worse.  The constant studying was exhausting; how she was able to just keep going was crazy but impressive. Today was Arithmancy study in the Gryffindor common room. You were sat beside Hermione at the desk; sketching her side profile on the parchment filled with unfinished sums as she explained what she was doing. Every so often she'd look at you and you'd look away. Careful not to get caught staring as you perfected each delicate line that made up her face.

"And that's how you get fifty-six- see?" Hermione shows you her work, tapping the answer with the tip of her quill.

Staring at the answer didn't make much sense but neither did the working out. You hadn't been listening at all so you flash her a sympathetic smile. "I don't get it,"

"Are you even paying attention?" Her brow crinkled; her quill falling to the desk.

"Yes-"

"Let's see your work then?" Before she can grab it, you drag your parchment away. Smothering the contents with the palms of your hands.

"No."

"Show me." She requested firmly. Eyes narrowing in on you as if issuing a challenge. With a heavy sigh, you back down. Handing over your work.

"Fine. I wasn't paying attention," You admit with a shrug; leaning over the back of the chair to stare up at the ceiling. "Arithmancy is just so boring."

"You chose to take it,"

"My parents forced me to take it," You correct, glancing back at her. Taking your parchment between her fingers, it's hard to miss the rush of colour that floods her pale cheeks. You didn't think your drawing was that good; definitely not even close to some of your other work. If anything you were embarrassed by how bad it was.

"It's pretty rough like I could do better if I had more time and my pencils" Drawing provided you with a distraction when it was most needed. You'd only started a year ago but it quickly developed into your hobby of choice. Learning to sketch people had been tough but after spending pretty much every class, staring at your fellow students you had gotten decent at it.

"It's..." Hermione trails off, handing back your work. "Can you please focus?"

"We've been at this for hours." A long groan leaves your throat as you slump down in your seat. Arms folded over your chest.

"Just a few more questions before we finish,"

You were finally growing used to your life at Hogwarts. Most of your time was spent with Hermione but you did manage to convince her to ease up a little. She grew busy with a club or something so she was more than happy to leave you to your own devices.

"You wanted to see me, Professor," you announce, entering the pink lion's den. It was somehow looking even pinker than the last time you stepped foot in here.

"Ah yes, please do take a seat. I'll be just a moment." Dropping your bag down beside the chair, you sit in the seat she signalled to. There wasn't a lot of time before you were supposed to meet Hermione to practice some charms. After a moment, Professor Umbridge speaks up. "Do you know why I've asked to see you?"

You shake your head slowly.

"Do you remember what I told you when you first arrived?"

"To get a tutor? I don't believe I'm falling behind in my classes." Hermione had been a great teacher overall; ensuring you understand everything before moving on although Snape still had a habit of asking you questions you didn't know. Was this about that?

"I'm referring to your choice in companions."

"Oh," you swallow hard. You didn't know what to say to that. Since arriving you'd started hanging with Hermione and her friends. You'd also found yourself drawn to the Weasley twins on the odd occasion. "Uh... I can assure you I've made friends Professor."

"I've noticed," she didn't sound pleased "Professor Snape also mentioned that you've been a wee bit disruptive in his class."

"That's not a fair judgment-" The words leave your lips sharper than intended but fall short when you notice the crease across the other woman's forehead.

"As headmaster, you must realise that I can't allow you to disrupt the way this school runs. Therefore you will be punished." Other than getting questions wrong, you wouldn't say you've done much else wrong in Snape's class. It wasn't fair that you were being punished for something so trivial but speaking up seemed like a one way trip to something worse. "Don't look so worried. You'll just be writing lines for me."

"Writing lines," you repeat cautiously. That seemed easy enough before you could reach into your bag, a quill and piece of parchment are placed before you. "What do you want me to write?"

"I must not fraternise with muggle-borns,"

"What does that have to do with Snape's class?" You wonder.

"Just do as your told," Umbridge quips quickly. "I do believe you've been seen around the castle with Miss Granger, correct?"

"Hermione?" You hardly believed Hermione had done anything to step out of line. Plus what did that have to do with anything? You were allowed to be friends with whoever you wanted. "Of course she is my tutor after all."

"It seems it may be more than that," Umbridge's sickeningly sweet giggle fills the office. "Now please begin."

"You haven't given me any ink?"

Striding behind her desk, she takes a seat and offers a smile. "You won't need any,"

Picking up the quill, you twist it between your fingers trying to figure out its secrets. It was black in colour, long, thin, and looked to be extremely sharp. Clearly, it was an enchanted quill if it didn't need ink. The tip glides across the paper with ease, gracing its surface with the ridiculous phrase you'd been forced to write in shiny red ink. How many times was she expecting you to do this? Hermione wouldn't be happy if you turned up late to one of your study sessions... again. A weird tingling spilt through the back of your hand before transforming into a sharp pain as you write the phrase a second time. Each letter appeared on your hand as you write it as if etched there by a scalpel. You drop the quill and the words slowly fade away but not without leaving your hand red. "Keep writing," Umbridge draws your attention, peering over from behind her teacup. You take a deep breath and write I must not fraternize with muggle-borns, the searing pain returned to your hand as you saw the phrase carved into your skin. You flex your hand as if that would relieve the pain but again the wound heels over. You no longer stopped between each line, the burning in your hand now a constant but it seemed after so many times the phrase was no longer fading. The hand on your shoulder startles you; the quill slipping from your grip.

"I think that's enough, you're free to go." Grabbing your bag, you leap out of your seat and rush for the door. "As a witch of your social standing, you should know better."

Head down, you charge through the castle to go meet Hermione but your speed slows as you realise tears prick your eyes. Dropping down on the nearest bench, you bury your face in your hands. Surely that kind of punishment wasn't allowed?

"If it isn't our favourite American." Head shooting up, you spy Fred and George. After all this time, you were beginning to be able to tell them apart.

"Why so glum, chum?" Your eyes drift just briefly to the scar on your hand. The twins taking up space either side of you.

"It's nothing- I'm fine."

"If you're fine, why are you crying?" Fred puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm not crying," but you have to wipe your cheeks to make sure. "I just..." you couldn't explain why you were so upset. Your thumb brushes over the back of your hand.

"Oh- it's no so bad," Fred squeezes your arm gently, they must have figured it out. "It'll fade soon enough."

"And it doesn't hurt very long, look." George shows you the back of his hand, you can't even read what it was supposed to have said. It doesn't make you feel better. "Don't cry, she's not worth it."

"Can you two leave me alone?"

"Nope," George's thumb brushes away a stray tear before tapping you on the end of your nose. You couldn't help but smile a little as you scrunched up your nose.

"We don't leave pretty sad girls alone in corridors to cry." Fred insists. "How about you show us what she had you write?"

Unsure about the decision, you let the two of them see what Umbridge had done. George takes hold of your hand, inspecting it carefully. "I must not fraternize with muggle-borns," George reads out quietly. "Do much fraternizing do you?"

"I don't even know any muggle-borns," Is all you say in response. Muggle was such a dumb word.

"Uh... Hermione? Aren't you two like best friends," Fred comments

"Hermione is No-Maj-born?" So that was why Umbridge had seemed so interested in your relationship. It was clear she held prejudice against No-Majs so it was only logical that she was trying to keep you, a pure-blood wizard, from mixing with Hermione, A no-maj-born.

"No-maj?" George questions

"Right, no-maj stand for no magic? You call em muggles." You sniffle, drying your cheeks properly.

"Ah no-maj." they both repeat.

Feeling a little better the twins escort you to your courtyard for your session with Hermione. She was packing up her textbook when she finally notices you. 0What did I tell you about punctuation? I will not tolerate sitting around here like a fool- if you do not wish to take your studies seriously then don't bother asking me to tutor you at all." The fire behind her eyes brings you to tears only this time they were hot and fast. Spilling down your face as a result of being yelled at. Hermione's expression drops, your tears extinguishing the fire. "I- Uh... sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I-It's alright," With the sleeve of your cardigan, you try to wipe away all evidence of your breakdown.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"Umbridge," You don't even try to conceal it now. "I don't think she likes that we're hanging out."

"I'm sorry she did that to you," She takes your hand in hers, her fingertip dancing delicately over your scar. It was ripe to the touch causing you to flinch a little; pulling your hand away. "You should tell your parents."

"And cause more trouble?" Was she crazy? "I don't want to give her any more reason to drag me into the office again."

"Then... if you don't wish to continue our study sessions, I would understand. I don't want to get you into trouble." Hermione fidgets with the strap of her bag, unable to look you in the eye. It was probably the smartest choice to never hang out with Hermione again. It would certainly save you from future punishments but if you did that you'd undoubtedly miss her. She'd become such a constant In your life, you could imagine it without her in it.

"I like our sessions together," You declare, offering her the warmest smile you could muster. "Can we skip today though? My hand stings and I'm really not in the mood anymore."

"Sure," Her smile looks almost sad in comparison. "Should we go get some dinner?" 

Finishing up packing, the two of you head for the great hall. There was no way Umbridge was gonna dictate who you can be friends with even if it meant more punishment.

Christmas approaches fast and brought with it a merry aura that filled every inch of the castle. You linger in the courtyard with your suitcase waiting for Hermione. She promised to meet you before you left but had a commitment to attend to first. You don't question her but you do wish she'd hurry up; it was awfully cold out here. It's a miracle when she finally shows up, a bright smile as she approaches

"I just wanted to give you this before I go." Digging through your pockets, you produce a folded up piece of paper; taking a few steps closer.

"What is it?"

"Open it," The nerves settled in your stomach as she unfolded the paper. This time, using your pencils, you'd manage to create an almost collage of sketches. Each one of the girl who stood next to you right now during different times in the past month. It seemed like a nice little farewell gift. "Have a good break, yeah?"

"These are... you're really good." Hermione meets your soft gaze. Her face pink in colour but that may have been due to the cold. "Thank you." She wears a small, embarrassed smile. "When did you have time to draw these?"

"Never underestimate my ability to avoid my responsibilities and draw pretty girls instead," you tease. Leaning toward you place a kiss against her cheek before pointing to the address you'd written on the bottom. "Write to me."

[cuppimagines]

Demon Raian x Nun Reader (NSFW)

BASED ON A REQUEST, that was long overdo. I should probably post shorter things to fill up space in this blog between bigger stuff like this content. But regardless I hope you enjoy

The air got cold, the basement was in total darkness, and you were alone with the thing that was stalking you. The warm breath that brushed against your neck caused you to jump, and hold out your rosary in fright.

“Do you really believe that would work on me?” The voice echoed, in a way where it always sounded inches from your face. Your entire body shook and your breathing got faster.

“You nuns like to believe being in the house of “god” makes you safe,” the voice said. “That nothing unholy could come in...and yet I’m here, here to take my prey...” just behind you, you could feel a warm glow, and without moving your body, turned your head to look at it. Bright red skin, gnarled horns, and claws that looked like they could tear at your flesh like you were slow cooked meat. The sight of this man kept you frozen for fear of what he could do if you moved. But there was a strange sense of curiosity also welling up inside you seeing that the demon was completely bare. No clothing, his muscular body and large cock in full view for you to see.

“You’ve been silent since I’ve been down here...” he grinned, a wicked demonic grin. “How about, you tell me your name, and I tell you mine. So we can start to get to know each other~!”

“M-my name is sister (y/n)...” you mumble.

“Good, good sweetheart,” the demon walked in front of you, staring you down as he licked his lips like you were a fresh meal presented to him.

“You can call me Raian, gorgeous,” he started walking to you, and as he took one step forward, you took a step back. Up until you were pressed to a wall, legs trembling.

“What- what are you here for?” You asked.

“I know what you want,” Raian grinned, resting his hand against the wall while glaring down at you. “I know you’re not devoted to all this bullshit. You’re only here because you had nowhere else to turn. But I could be your ticket out of this boring place, and all I want is one thing.”

“I, don’t think I want to give up my soul to-“ Raian held a finger up, and his wicked grin turned to more of a humored expression as he burst into laughter.

“Oh good god you humans are cute,” he snickered. “No, no, I don’t want that bullshit. I wanna fuck you.” You’d be pissed off at being mocked, but after hearing what he wanted, you were taken aback, but he was right. You weren’t devoted to the church out of any moral obligation. This was your only choice if you didn’t want to live on the streets to fend for yourself.

“Fuck me and I’ll make you mine,” Raian said. “It’s about time I found a cutie like yourself to breed my spawn into. I’ll make you something fantastic if you decide to do this. If not, I'll leave you alone, and simply find another pretty young mortal to give me my spawn.” You squeezed your legs tight together, and bit your lower lip in contemplation. Until, you slowly and meekly nodded. Even though you wanted this, and wanted a life from the church, you were still a virgin, mostly out of not being able to find anybody to lose your virginity to. So part of you was nervous to have sex for the first time, let alone with a demon.

“Good answer,” Raian grinned a wicked grin, and pulled you closer by the robes. He was staring at you, licking his lips in excitement to see what your body looked like underneath. You heard the sounds of your clothes tearing like paper in Raian’s grasp. The cold air hit you so suddenly and combined with the surprise, you let out a small, meek gasp. Raian pushed you down onto a nearby table, and only continued ripping and tearing away at your robes, your hood, your undergarments, until all that was left was scraps lying on the floor.

You felt the innate need to cover yourself up, from the cold and being exposed in front of someone else, so wrapped your arms across your breasts and pressed your legs together.

“Are you freezing?” Raian laughed. “Oh don’t worry baby, that won’t be for long...” you could feel his hands grab your hips, and they were warm, much warmer than a human’s grip, and that made you feel nice...

Raian leaned down, and started to kiss all along your neck and collarbone, each kiss so warm and gentle- at first. You wrapped your arms around him and soaked in the pleasure of his lips on your skin, until you felt a sudden sharp pinch on your shoulder and cried out. When Raian pulled away, a very noticeable bite mark remained there, that had drawn blood.

“Ohh baby you taste so sweet, I just couldn’t resist~!” He chuckled. “I won’t do it again if it hurt too much.”

“A-actually...” you mumbled. “I don’t mind at all, could you keep doing that...?” Those words alone made Raian hard, the thought of peppering your skin in bite marks.

“I knew I was right to pick you!” He immediately started to kiss down your body again, and this time he didn’t hesitate to always leave a mark anywhere he went. The sharp pain mixed with the pleasure of your body being explored was both so new and yet it felt so good that you moaned, but tried your best to muffle those sounds by biting your hand. If you were too loud, especially in the dead of night like this, someone could hear you.

“Fucking hell...” Raian cupped your breasts in his large hands, and brought his mouth down to start licking and sucking on your nipple, all while he began to grind his cock against you, now rock hard and excited to just grab you and fuck the god right out of you. It was real hard trying to keep quiet now. His tongue didn’t feel like a normal tongue as it swirled across your nipple. It was longer, and forked at the very end. It was so odd, so inhuman and yet so so amazing at the same time. Your legs pressed against each other, trying to get some friction, and your moans and whimpers only got louder.

“Ohhh~? Not trying hard to be quiet are we now?” Raian stopped, replacing his tongue with his clawed fingers that pinched at your nipple. “I know what you want...” You stared down at his cock and just nodded in response to him, spreading your legs out for him. Raian saw just how soaking wet you were and he licked his lips, savoring the sight of you. Already oh so eager and willing to get a demon’s cock. He started to climb on the table, his body just hovering over yours as he leaned his head down next to your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you up,” he growled in your ear, all before you felt his cock rubbing against your cunt. All before he started thrusting into you inch by agonizing inch. He felt so much bigger than he looked, and your small moans quickly became louder feeling your body stretch to fit his cock and yet clench around him in complete and utter pleasure.

“Ra-Raian ahh...!” You moan. “Oh- oh you’re so big!!!” You then let out a loud whine as he started moving inside you. Oh...! Oh!!! You covered your mouth at this point, you were getting far too loud, and Raian only started to get rougher.

“Goddd you feel so fuckin good!” He growled. “Go on sweetheart I wanna hear that, i know there’s nobody nearby to hear you get fucked by a demon, I wanna hear you scream or I’ll stop!” He grabbed you by the legs tight, and one hard thrust got you screaming.

“Please...! Please I need it!!” You cried out. “Please Raian!!!” You felt his claws dig into your skin enough to draw blood, and Raian licked his lips in excitement after he heard those words. You were lifted up off the table, and he held you close to him. You looked into his eyes and soon pressed his lips against yours, before you felt him pound you like he was trying to break every bone in your lower half.

You wrapped your arms around Raian, and were moaning and whimpering in the kiss. He was so hungry for this...you felt so good, you were so perfect for him, a perfect little lover for him. Raian held onto you tightly, and as you matched your orgasm with him, he came inside you, filling you up in a way that you’ve never felt prior, while holding you in his embrace.

“Fuck...! Fuck...god baby...” Raian panted. Your legs felt shaky, you were sweaty, but you felt so so good.

“Oh baby...” he grinned. “Now that was fun. Alright, a deal’s a deal. Looks like you’re gonna be the mom of a few demons.”

“I-I’d like that, very much...” you tried to gasp for air, and Raian never let go of you. In fact he placed you down as gently as he could, and where he made you bleed, he licked and kissed those areas oh so gently. You felt close to falling asleep right then and there. God...who knew of all the things to give you comfort, you’d never expect a man, or demon like this.

[costellos]

a/n: I’ve been reminiscing on a lot of cheesy romcoms and one of my favorite tropes are “dates that aren’t officially dates but basically are dates.” we love a good yearning. that said, here are some #unofficialofficialdates that the boys use to spend time with you!

tw: mentions of drugs

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang & what excuses they use to get closer to you!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati gets closer to you by having you assist him at “fundraisers.” 

Passione holds a handful of events throughout the year. elaborate parties with expensive champagne, mindless chatter, and some very high-profile attendees. people will join to officialize deals, buy drugs, and of course, donate to keep Passione thriving.

Bucciarati usually goes alone, acting as a representative for his escort team. this isn’t the type of scene you’d see the others at. but up until your joining, you’ve found yourself as his sole companion.

it began as a way to familiarize yourself with mobster life. his idea, of course. although he didn’t push the idea, he’d be lying if he said he hoped you would accept. ↳ “it’s not required, but the company would be nice.”

it’s an odd affair. celebrities and politicians join and no one blinks an eye. it’s not where you’d usually find yourself on a Saturday night, with you and your partner dressed to the nines (okay, maybe not a usual scene for you; Bucciarati always had something beautiful draped onto his figure).

the hors d'oeuvres and cocktails are nice, at least. but you find yourself drawn to your conversations with Bucciarati the most.

he makes you feel welcome at every event, that you deserve to be here as much as the starlet making her grand appearance. you’re unsure that you can handle business with new clients, but the way he talks to you is so reassuring and supportive that you quickly help the gang obtain new patrons.

you can’t help but notice that his speech became more casual after the first outing. he’s a fan of crude jokes and local gossip, you find. but you also notice the hand at your hip as he guides you to every following fundraiser. if you look at him while he he does so, he’d send a the kindest grin. ↳ “see? you’re a natural. we need to work on your eye contact, though. clients respond better when they see those pretty eyes look back at them.”

that shameless flirtation came out after your fifth fundraiser. by that point, Bucciarati made less of an effort to hide his attraction toward you. all the other patrons thought you to be a couple. why not play the part? besides, he finds your embarrassment endearing. cute, even. he’s already planning ways to make this night last longer.

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio gets closer to you by helping you get ready for your missions.

you’re typically the first choice for espionage missions. the way you slip into parties, meetings, anything without anyone noticing is impressive, to say the least. but only part of that is thanks to your own abilities. Abbacchio does a lot of the heavy lifting behind the scenes.

it started when he noticed your god awful attempt at masquerade makeup. your contouring left much to be desired. ↳ “...please don’t tell me you’re actually going out like that.”

and so began a tradition of sorts. you usually meet him at his apartment, considering that’s where all his tools are. it was awkward at first; Abbacchio isn’t the best conversationalist, but he did try to seem somewhat engaged in whatever you had to say.

with time, however, it became easier. less awkward. Abbacchio shares whatever wine (and gossip) he has at his disposal that week. you find that his humor can be quite dry once you melt through that icy exterior. and with more time, you start to notice the tiniest smiles when you pop by.

he’s also less fussy when you ask him to do your makeup. before he would roll his eyes and ask when you were next available, but now... he just says to come by that Friday night. not without some minor teasing, though you found that to be a part of his charm. (plus, the fact you were breaking through to him was exciting in itself.)

he’s incredibly gentle when he does your makeup. he always holds your chin as he dabs liquid foundation onto your face, his hand moving your head for those hard-to-reach areas. when he does your eyeshadow, you can feel that same hand cup your cheek to keep you steady. though intimate, it’s not uncomfortable.

whenever he caught you staring at him, Abbacchio would ask what you were looking at. recently, however, you’ve noticed he merely purses his lips, swallows, and looks away. ↳ “huh. would’ve never known you could look so stunning. you’re welcome.”

his rude teasing made its appearance after eight visits. it’s an awful attempt to deny his feelings. maybe you’ll back off if he’s mean enough. but the way you smile at him after every session, how you shamelessly compliment him... he can’t help himself. he has to get closer to you in any way that he can.

giorno giovanna.

Giorno gets closer to you by asking you to help him with his hair.

you’d often watch girls fawn over Giorno whenever you went on patrols with him. and it’s warranted: his chiseled cheekbones, long lashes, and defined physique had him rival the Roman statues that lined Naples. everything about him is a piece of art. including his hair. 

you caught him struggling to braid his hair shortly before your next patrol. strands would be thicker than others, and in one case, you watched as his hair tie snapped between his fingers. he obviously needed help. ↳ “well, if you’re offering. be my guest.”

so you got to work. it wasn’t a big deal; part of the issue was that Giorno couldn’t see the back of his head. you separated his hair into three strands, weaved them between each other, and tied the ends of his hair into a loop. just as you’d always seen him do it.

but once you finished, Giorno was hooked. the way your fingernails dragged along his scalp, how you were so careful to not pull his hair... it was wonderful. such a small action that felt so personal to him.

he asks you to help him with his hair whenever he can. not too frequently that you’d catch on, though. and he knows you well enough to know you wouldn’t deny his request. you’re far too kind. it’s a little manipulative on his end, but he’s also aware that you wouldn’t mind.

it never feels awkward. he asks you about your day while you work. sometimes he gives you a briefing about what’s on the agenda. though it seems casual on your end, as mentioned, Giorno finds the experience quite intimate. ↳ “I don’t know what it is, but something about your touch is enough to make me feel so relaxed. ...ah, excuse me. was that too forward?”

that statement comes out after you’ve braided Giorno’s hair ten times. by that point, you’ve started to think that he doesn’t really need help with his hair. the fact that he’s started producing flowers to put in your own hair was a dead giveaway. but can you blame him? he loves seeing you blush as he tucks daisies behind your ear.

guido mista.

Mista gets closer to you by showing you his favorite quick eats.

as a long-standing resident of Naples, the gunslinger is aware of all the best restaurants in the city. from hole-in-the walls to elegant restaurants, he knows ‘em all. he has a particular soft spot for the former.

you’re the opposite of him: new to Naples and unaware of what foods await you. Mista takes it upon himself to change that. ↳ “you’ve never heard of Sorbillo and you’ve been living here for how long? ...alright, well. we’re gonna change that. you and me, Sorbillo, this Saturday.”

and thus a new tradition began. whenever you and Mista had a free Saturday night, you’d meet at whatever restaurant he recommended that week. sometimes it was seafood, other nights it was pizza, but it was always something extremely delicious (and extremely unforgettable).

he caters his choices to what you’re in the mood for. Mista’s not a picky eater by any means (so long as it’s not in fours), so he’s down for whatever you want. plus, it lets him get to know your tastes a little better.

he’s a great conversationalist. he can keep you distracted from long lines and longer food prep times. you never get the impression that he’s just making small talk, because honestly, he’s not. he genuinely wants to get to know you better. he usually asks about your life before Passione. 

your weekly outings originally started as a fun hangout between two friends. but during one chilly night, Mista was quick to notice your shivering. he wasted no time in giving you his coat and hat. ↳ “hey, you don’t ever get... I dunno... bored of this, do you? I know we’ve been doing this for a while and... if you ever wanna stop, you can let me know.”

that question came up after your seventh outing. you’d never seen the gunslinger get embarrassed like this. it only comes up because Mista’s realizing how much he loves being around you. he loves when your eyes widen as you take that first bite, he loves when muse how good the food is. he needs to know where you stand before he gets too invested because honestly, he’s starting to love you as well.

narancia ghirga.

Narancia gets closer to you by asking you to help him read. 

Fugo’s not the best tutor. bless him, he tries, but Narancia isn’t the best student either. the latter often spaces out while working. and when he doesn’t, he tries to distract Fugo with some meaningless chatter to end the session sooner. Fugo was quick to catch onto this.

as a result, he turned to you to tutor Narancia. it started as a joke. “if [Name] can’t do it, no one can,” he laughed. the pupil, however, was more than happy to switch tutors. ↳ “fine! [Name]’ll be a better teacher than you ever were!!”

and like that, you were Narancia’s new tutor. not that you minded. it would benefit the whole team if he could read above a primary school level. every Tuesday and Thursday, an hour before the gang’s meetings at Libeccio, you and Narancia would grab a table and go over his reading material. sometimes Fugo joins to watch Narancia’s progress, sometimes Mista to hang out and enjoy a slice of cake, but it’s normally a one-on-one lesson.

Narancia quickly realizes that he likes those lessons best. it’s much easier when the others aren’t teasing him for his inability to read words like “signorile.” plus, he likes his time alone with you. you don’t laugh. you never judge him. if he has a question, he doesn’t feel stupid to come to you about it, even outside of tutoring sessions.

he’s still distracted when he’s with you, but half the time it’s intentional, half the time it’s not. he just wants to learn more about you. he’ll take breaks between questions to ask you about yourself. Narancia usually sticks to questions regarding your hobbies and interests. lord help you if you share the same music taste because he’ll want to share all his favorite tunes with you.

lately he’s been quite diligent with his work. he’ll go a chapter ahead of what you’ve scheduled and... oh my, are those annotations? you’d never seen him smile brighter than when you praised him for his hard work. ↳ “what are we gonna do once my reading is like... really good? we’re not just gonna stop, are we?”

he asks you this after your fourth session. the question came up rather early, honestly. but Narancia was already having a lot of fun after working with you. he knew that this was going to be something worth his time. and when he saw your own smile, he knew that you were worth everything, too. 

pannacotta fugo.

Fugo gets closer to you by requesting your help planning missions.

most of the gang’s missions are planned by Fugo himself. while he is a college dropout, he still spent hundreds of hours studying Italian history and law. he can be trusted to help the escort team avoid law enforcement.

but there was one job he couldn’t wrap his head around. it was a breaking-and-entering mission meant for Bucciarati and Narancia. they were supposed to cross through an Armani outlet, yet... the security was fool proof. there was no way to cleanly get through it, even with Bucciarati’s Sticky Fingers. that was when you came in and proved him wrong. ↳ “[Name], would you mind helping me with this next mission? it’s a reconnaissance job for Abbacchio.”

he started coming to you whenever he felt stuck. you’re one of the few people he trusts with a task as important as this one. besides, you’d already proved that you were more than capable to untangle tough situations.

working with you is a mixed bag, though. sure, you help Fugo resolve his questions, but you make him feel so... small. it’s not that you do it on purpose. it’s just that being smart is all that he has. it’s all he’s ever known. and here you come, making these problems seem like they were nothing.

yet he can’t get enough of you. you don’t make it seem like these things are a big deal. he loves when you place your hand on his arm and praise him when he figures it out himself. god, he hates that he can’t look you in the eye; he can only imagine how lovely you look when you’re glowing.

there’s one moment that will stick with you forever. it was an infiltration mission meant for the whole team, the eleventh job you’d worked on with him. it took hours of back-and-forth bantering, Fugo having to leave the room to go scream outside, and one of Narancia’s awful energy drinks until Fugo figured it out. and when he did, you’ll never forget how he was beaming, his fingers laced with yours as he thanked you for your help. it’s too bad it didn’t last that long, for he quickly became embarrassed and turned away. ↳ “[Name]! I have another mission to work on with you! when are you free?”

Fugo saw you as his planning partner after that occurrence. he came to you with every mission he received; after all, he needs you to make sure that there aren’t any holes. he wants to chase every high he can with you. hell, every low if you’ll let him. he wants to do everything and more with you.

[pastelpendant]

Waking up from a nap to other people trancing themselves is nice. I do wish I had the energy to speak with You more regularly, though I know this is something else You’d reassure me is fine. (I know it is, I just see a lot that’s cute here with the others and interaction is fun when the brain allows ~_~)

(This feels a bit like irony and stepping over a line. If so, please say so and I’ll refrain from saying stuff like this in the future. Don’t wanna be part of the problem) I would like it though if people stopped making my favorite ‘tist uncomfortable. You’ve got perfectly respectable boundaries same as anyone else, and it annoys me that they’re trampled over with any degree of frequency. It can’t be that hard to keep one’s mouth shut and not make others uncomfortable.

On another note, I’d noticed Your deity kink tag before, but didn’t think much of it until now since I’m decidedly not religious in my daily life. For You, though, I think I could make an exception ;D

Not just a Master, but a Deity to fall completely under for. Ruling the Garden and my mind with the same level of gentle, inescapable power. Why leave when I’m so comfortable? I could go at any time, but I also could lie in a sleepy puddle at Your feet awaiting orders. It’s nice to be owned and powerless. Nice to realize I don’t have to think for myself, just float in worshipful bliss as my Deity exerts Their control~

Perfect Pen’s perfect control always seeping into my head. The repetition mantra sticks the best since it rhymes and I’ve lopped it for hours, sometimes rocking to stim brings it up, but other things are fun too.

I’ve edged to Your files before. Tried to set in ‘rub my mind away for fae’ along the lines of the other mantras and though it’s enjoyable to stay like that for a while, I can’t hold back long enough to do much. Might do that later if I work myself up though, Your files have gotten me needy before…

This is getting long again 😅 I would apologize for the giant block of text, but You didn’t seem to mind my last ramble, so maybe this time is the same? Hope You’ve been doing well!

-El

Interaction is definitely fun! But I agree with your assessment that I'd say it's okay that you can't interact often, and that's because the few times we do interact are always a treat! I look forward to when it becomes more drawn out and frequent, but only when the headspace allows <3

Thank you for the kind words. I too wish that people would stop trampling over Me and My boundaries just because I'm a soft person when not explicitly Dominating someone. Admittedly, I never had a specific rule against receiving photos, only giving; part of it could be on Me for not saying I don't want photos w/o consent, but at the same time I feel like that should be common knowledge! Alas, We live in a society of people w/ monkey brain that just want to activate their neurons by being weird in non-fun ways.

I believe you've referred to Me as Deity before, so I find it hard to believe this is the first time you've thought about the Deity side of things~ I take on being an Arch Fae as my primary way of expressing it, as that gives me more power and Dominion over ordinary Fae creatures as well. Plus, only Arch Fae can rule over their own Domains, which My Garden certainly classifies as ;)

Ah yes, repetition. The main reason mantras work the way they do. And We Fae certainly love to rhyme, so it's fun to use rhymes to really get in someone's head. Encouraging a (consensually) endless loop of My words is a thrill, because I like imagining the droning, far away tone their voice would take repeating it out loud.

I've noticed a sudden uptick in thralls that edge to My files! I'm quite flattered by it; it's never something I go out of My way to ask for, since My brain often just...Doesn't think about sexual things below the belt, but those offers and tributes are quite lovely when people ask beforehand if it's okay. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, and if you do decide to edge later, I hope you'll know that Master melts your mind away, so you can rock and sway and just obey~

(P.S the "rock and sway" part actually comes from how a thrall was humping her pillow while repeating that mantra and edging, but she too always seeks release, so never feel obligated to stay on the edge a long time!)

Never apologize for long asks! I prefer this than having to make multiple short replies, and I'm always glad to hear from you, dearest El <3 Thank you for taking time to share all of these lovely thoughts with Me, I treasure them immensely

[septicace-writes]

Hi, your Henry fluff is killing me but in a good way!! ☺️ Could I ask for some more fluff with Henry, Kal, and introvert, curvy reader please? Like just them being at the begin of their relationship and she’s pretty much new to all the boyfriend/couple stuff and not used being treated so well and feeling loved at all times and Kal is pretty much smitten with her already? It’s okay if you don’t feel like writing it, take care!!

Hey! Thank you so much for sending this in! I’m glad you’re enjoying my writing and had a lot of fun writing your request. Especially because it forced me to write a little outside of my own view and experience (I’m lucky enough to never have struggled too much with my body) So I hope you enjoy!! Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

2k words

Your curves and all your edges

You nervously stare at your reflection, smoothing out the shirt you’re wearing and trying to avoid glancing at the fat on your body. Your new boyfriend is due to pick you up for a walk along the beach any moment now and you’re about this close to texting him not to come. Your low self-esteem threatening to get the best of you and ruining your chance at what could be something beautiful. You’d never been considered beautiful by society’s standards, barely anyone granting you a second glance on the streets. And even now that you have a boyfriend you can’t shake the feeling that you won’t be enough for him. Or maybe that you’ll get too much in just a couple of weeks. After all, he’s tall and handsome and fucking superman. How could you compare? You take one last deep breath in and turn around, feeling that you’ll never be ready so might as well go through with it.

“Hello beautiful” the deep voice startles you as you spin around to see Henry standing in the door, he must’ve been watching you and only made his presence known when you turned. “Jesus Henry, I didn’t here come in at all!” he gives you a sly smile, raking his eyes over your form and you do your best to not close the door in his face to avoid the gaze.

“I’m sorry darling, your flatmate let me in and seeing you so lost in thought I couldn’t help but take in the view for a moment.” He closes the gap between you to, wrapping you into his arms for a moment and giving you a peck on the cheek when he lets go again. “C’mon darling, Kal’s waiting in the car.” He says with a smile as he reaches for your hand.

You follow him out, more excited than worried now. Even just his small compliments already boosting your mood and making you feel a little better. Outside, Henry opens the trunk of his car so Kal can greet you properly before you head off towards the beach. The bear immediately runs up to you and nudges you with his big head. “Hey big boy!” you crouch down and give him a good scratch to say hello. He bonks his head into your chest almost making you fall over with the unexpected force.

“Careful, bear!” Henry chides, though not too seriously. “Don’t break my precious before we even get to the beach.” You smile at his remark, getting back on your feet and into the car. You’re quite as Henry starts driving, your thoughts from the mirror still lingering and though Henry is charming as ever and the bear obviously is fond of you, your thoughts just won’t let you enjoy the moment.

When you pull out on the motorway Henry’s hand wanders onto your thigh and squeezes it gently. “Do you know that you’re so incredibly beautiful to me?” He catches your gaze as you look up from your lap and holds it for a second before focusing back on the street. You sigh, not really having a good reply to his compliment. “I saw the way you look at yourself in the mirror. I know what people are saying behind our backs. But none of it matters. You’re beautiful to me.” You stare out the window for a bit, his hand still on reassuringly on your thigh.

“No one’s ever said that to me. And honestly, I’m not sure I can believe you.” you admit in a sudden burst of honesty, immediately chiding yourself for letting on just how much his compliment means. You want to speak up, start a conversation, but you’re too caught up in your own head to think of something to say. Thankfully, Henry is a lot more conversational than you and starts talking about his last couple of days. Telling anecdotes from set and inquiring what you’ve been up to. As the conversation continues you slowly start to relax, your mind quieting down a little and allowing you to enjoy the moment. The fear of it all ending soon subsiding at least for a while.

After a 20-minute drive, Henry pulls up into the parking lot at the beach and you both get out of the car, Kal excitedly jumping out as soon as the door opens. Henry grabbing a backpack from the backseat before grabbing your hand again to start walking down to the water. The bear pressing himself to your side until you reach the sand and he gets the signal to run free. You walk along the waterline, occasionally throwing sticks for Kal to fetch, who always drops them right in front of you.

“Seems he already likes you more than he does me.” Henry jokes when his dog once again doesn’t give him the stick. You laugh, graciously handing your acquired stick over to Henry so he can have a throw as well.  “He just knows I don’t throw as far so he doesn’t have to run as much.” Henry stops walking at your remark, turning fully towards you and lifting his hands up to your face.

“I really don’t think that’s what it is, darling. I think he can see how delightful and charming you are and is drawn to it just as I am.” You want to hide your face in embarrassment, but the look in his blue eyes won’t let you. He slowly leans in and pulls you into a kiss. A gentle, careful kiss as if you might break if he’s too rough. And then another one. Kal comes back with his stick and drops it by your feet. Nudging your leg again when you don’t immediately go to grab it and throw again. You giggle into the kiss as Henry helps you keep your balance.

“Let’s sit for a while, I brought some picnic and I have something important to tell you.” You cock your head at how mysterious Henry is being but decide not to question it just yet. Surely, he’ll let you know once he deems it time and you just hope that it’s not going to be bad news. After all, why would he bring you all the way out here just to break your heart. That doesn’t make much sense.

You help him set up the blanket, which is quite the task with the hyped up Kal playing between your legs. After a couple of failed attempts Henry finally gets the bear to sit still long enough to get your sitting space sorted. Though as soon as that is done, Kal jumps up again, almost running you over in his excitement to get back to his toy. “Jesus Hen, did you give him some of your coffee this morning?” you giggle as you both sit down and your boyfriend unpacks the lunch he packed, passing you a sandwich and a bottle of juice. “I think he just missed you.” He replies with a grin.

You sit in silence while you eat, keeping Kal busy by letting him fetch a couple more times before he finally decides he’s had enough and comes to lie next to you on the blanket. His big head on your big lap, the perfect match. Maybe being built as you are isn’t so bad after all if it means you can support the massive dog lying half on top of you. Enjoying the ocean breeze, you absentmindedly pet Kal’s head and let your mind wander. Your thoughts are unusually quiet for once and you relish in the feeling of peace.

Henry scoots over closer to you after he finishes his food, petting his dog quickly before wrapping his arm around your side and pulling you into him. “Can’t have the bear get all of the snuggles. He’s making me jealous.” He speaks softly into your hair.

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” you inquire after a moment of silence, not wanting to disturb the comfortable silence but too curious to wait any longer. Henry doesn’t immediately reply, and instead sits up a little straighter first so he can look you in the eyes.

“I’ve been thinking… and I know we haven’t been together very long at all yet, but I enjoy your company. You’re fun to be around and you help me relax like no one ever did before. I feel safe and seen with you and it may be a little hasty to say it, but I need you to know that I love you. I really do.” His face looks so vulnerable in that moment. Baring his heart for you to see, hoping you won’t reject him. You show a confused smile, not having anticipated such a big confession. No one had ever told you they loved you. And especially not with so much sincerity in their voice. “You don’t have to say it back. I just wanted you to know.” He reassures when you don’t reply.

“How?” you ask. And now it’s Henry’s turn to look slightly confused. “How do you love me?” you continue. “I’m nobody. I’m not pretty, I’m not rich, I’m not desirable in any way. I’m barely keeping my head above water and you could have anyone. I don’t even know how to do this whole relationship thing. No one’s ever given me the chance.” Your gaze sank further with every word, not wanting him to see the shame in your eyes. Great response you chide yourself. Why couldn’t you just take it? But years of loneliness had taught you better than to just believe anyone who said they’d be there.

“Oh, Beautiful” Henry cradles your face in his hands again, making you look him in the eyes. He places a gentle kiss on your lips. “You may not look like a model, but you have the personality of an angel. You may not feel worthy, but you deserve the world. You may not have been great at school, but you’ve got your own talents. I love you not for what you seem but for who you are. And who you are is a person that makes me laugh, and a person that cares, and a person that is so incredibly strong in a world so pitted against them. I see the way you look at yourself in the mirror and I want to punch every single person who ever made you feel less than. When I say I love you, I mean all of you. All your curves and all your edges. All your perfect imperfections. Because they all make you, you and who you are is wonderful. And I don’t care about your experience. I don’t care what other people think. All I care about is that we can figure it out together. If you want, of course.”

You’re absolutely speechless. How are you supposed to react to a confession like this? Do you say thank you? Should you just kiss him? Should you reject it and stay safe from having your heart broken? Your brain quickly zaps past all the possibilities and risks, but your racing thoughts are stopped when Kal suddenly gives a loud bark. You gaze snaps down at him and he just looks at you, expectantly. After a moment he nudges your tummy and then looks at Henry. You look up at the man who just bared his heart in front of you, his eyes hopeful. And in this moment, you decide that maybe it’ll be worth the risk. Henry has shown you nothing but love and kindness since you two met. And you can’t win if you don’t play. You gather all your courage and lean in to kiss him, the first time that you’ve initiated it.  You deepen the kiss and feel Henry’s relief wash over his body, his arms wrapping around you and holding you so tight as if he’s scared you’ll change your mind and run away. When you both come up for breath, a smile creeps on your face as you look at him.