#that now he has a hard time adapting to other ways of moving around

[dunmeshistash]

Mr Meshi, did Mithrun always have no sense of direction? (I thought it might be a side effect of what the demon did to him)

Great question, it's implied his "unique" sense of direction is a result of how his mindset was affected after being a Dungeon Lord, Kabru theorizes that when he finds the secret passage after getting rid of the hipogriff

I think the implication is rather than not having a sense of direction he's moving in a way that made sense in his own Dungeon without thinking about it.

Idk if that makes sense for anyone else but you know when you've been playing one game for so long that when you play a different game with a different way of doing things you get confused for a bit and keep trying to move/do things how you did in the other game? Just me? ok

[theemporium]

[5.1k] with the hughes bowl around the corner, luke is finding it hard to push away his doubtful thoughts. fortunately, he has a friend who’s willing to keep his mind preoccupied with far more sinful thoughts. unfortunately, he’s pretty sure he’s in love with said friend. (smut)

series masterlist

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Luke Hughes felt lost. 

Not physically, fortunately. He was very much aware of where he was—on his bed in the apartment he shared with his older brother, just to prove his point—but it brought him little to no comfort to be in the place he called home for the majority of the year. 

To be completely honest, Luke didn’t even know what he considered home anymore. Whether it was the house he grew up in in Toronto. Or the one in Michigan. Or the crappy shared house he moved into with the boys in college. Or even the lakehouse he has spent the last few summers in.

They felt familiar and homely at points in his life, but now he wasn’t sure. 

There was a voice in the back of his head that told him New Jersey was his home now, that he had accepted as much the day his name was called in the draft. He knew he would be following in Jack’s footsteps, he would be moving to a new state and he would be integrating himself into the city. That he was now a part of the hockey team that the locals held near and dear to their heart, that they saw him as one of them now. 

And for a little while, he got it. 

He found a sense of comfort in their shared apartment, in living with his brother again after years of only sharing summers together. He found comfort in the days after games where he would come back home and collapse on his bed, or after roadies where he could finally return to normalcy. 

He was fine with it.

Hockey was all about adapting and persevering to new environments. He could handle the hotel rooms and stiff pillows because he knew he would eventually come back to the place he called home. 

But something felt off this time around. 

They had landed pretty late in New Jersey coming off their ten day roadie and Luke had expected to find a sense of solace in the fact he would be able to fall face first into his own bed with no alarms or annoying brothers prepared to wake him up at some ungodly hour the next day. 

Instead, Luke just felt…lost. 

It was the only way he could describe the tenseness in his body for the last two weeks. He felt on edge, constantly alert. He felt like his body was moving through his daily routine but his head was far, far away. He felt like he was trying to catch up with everything, like he was seeing everything happen through his own two eyes but couldn’t quite seem to process what was happening. 

His body was on autopilot and he was clawing on the inside for some control. 

It wasn’t a completely foreign feeling to him. He had felt similarly through the later years in high school and college, when the classes started getting a little harder and he was fighting to stay afloat to the point his brain just shut down and his body kept moving.

He had never really felt that way about hockey before but it was just another one of those things that professional hockey threw at him whilst he desperately tried to cling on to what he knew. 

There was a voice in the back of his head that told him he should be responsible and logical and tell someone. He should say something to Jack, to see if his brother had any advice. Or maybe even Quinn. Or even Nico, since the captain had reassured him time and time again that Luke was one of his boys too. 

He should tell someone because he knew what he was feeling wasn’t normal and wasn’t good in the long run. But unfortunately that logical voice was completely overshadowed by the one telling him that he couldn’t go running to others whenever he had a problem, that he had to learn to cope and adapt, that he couldn’t face saying to the people around him that he was struggling when they were all so excited he finally made it to the big leagues. 

His parents. His friends. The hundreds of fans that had been counting down the days until all three Hughes brothers would make it to the NHL. 

He couldn’t let them think he wasn’t made for the tough life of professional hockey, but he felt like he was going to go out of his mind if he didn’t tell someone. If he didn’t have someone who would get it, who wouldn’t judge him for the doubts plaguing his mind. 

It was close to two in the morning when Luke reached for his phone, opening up his contacts and pressing your name far quicker than should have been possible. But it felt like muscle memory as he clicked your contact, his thumbs typing a message and hitting send before he could think twice. 

hockey boy: hey u up?

Luke wasn’t really expecting you to reply, if he was being honest. Maybe a follow up message in the morning but he assumed you would be fast asleep by now, as any normal person would be. He let out a huff as his head dropped back against his pillow, his eyes blankly staring at the ceiling above as he contemplated what he could do to fall asleep quicker. However, he was pleasantly surprised when his phone buzzed on his chest. 

cherry🍒: oooh i think i know how this one goes 

cherry🍒: i hope you’re wearing something sexy ;) 

Luke breathed out a laugh, shaking his head fondly as he quickly typed a response.

hockey boy: no no

hockey boy: just wanted to talk 

hockey boy: couldn’t get to sleep

Your reply came much faster this time.

cherry🍒: everything okay?? 

hockey boy: yeah don’t worry about it 

cherry🍒: bullshit

cherry🍒: get dressed, see in fifteen minutes 

hockey boy: ????? 

However, your reply never came. Instead, Luke was left staring at his phone screen for a few minutes with his brows furrowed in utter confusion before his brain seemed to snap on. He scrambled to push the duvet off of him and quickly shuffle towards his wardrobe, picking clothes that he is pretty sure were clean before shoving his keys and phone into his pocket. 

He glanced down, seeing another message from you telling him to come outside and his chest tightened a little. It felt something close to the adrenaline he got before he stepped on the ice, that rush that he was really doing this—except this time he was sneaking out like some rebellious teenager who was trying not to wake his brother up. 

God knows what wild assumptions Jack would come up with as to why his little brother was sneaking out at two in the morning.

You were already smiling at him when he spotted your car, waving him over as the cold winter night chill made him regret not grabbing another layer beyond the hoodie he slipped on. He quickly rushed over, letting out a sigh of relief when he was instantly hit with warmth as he slipped into the passenger seat before he turned to look at you.

“Hi,” he whispered, because it just felt right to do so.

“Hi,” you grinned back at him before nodding at him. “Put your seatbelt on.” 

He raised his brows, but he did as he was told. “You gonna tell me where we are going?” 

Your grin widened. “Nope.” 

Luke tilted his head. “Are you taking me somewhere to kill me or something?” 

“Yeah because killing a six foot something hockey player who could probably throw me into the Hudson River with ease is exactly what I planned to do with my Wednesday night,” you snorted, shaking your head as you began to pull out of your parking spot.

“You could push me in when I’m not looking,” Luke countered.

Your lips twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind but that’s not the plan for tonight.” 

“Remind me never to go to the river with you.”

…

“You know, I’m pretty sure this is the exact opposite of what the trainers recommended.” 

“I don’t see you complaining.” 

“Oh, I’m not. Just pointing out a fact.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you lightly shoved the boy settled in the backseat next to you whilst he beamed in response. You were parked in some random, empty parking lot. You weren’t exactly sure where but it was far away enough from the rest of the world for you to deem it the perfect spot. 

After annoying you for five minutes, Luke had fallen silent when you pulled into a McDonald’s drive thru and proceeded to order far more than was necessary for two people. But Luke only grinned, making some comment about dragging you into the river with him if his trainers found out that you just snorted at. 

And now, the two of you were huddled into the backseat of your car, eating away whilst his phone played some country album he was insistent to get you to like in the front of the car in one of the cupholders that was meant for your drinks. 

“So,” Luke started, leaning over to steal a fry from your stash before you could slap his hand away. “Why are we here? Decided to give me a pity meal before you killed me?” 

“Maybe,” you grinned, leaning over to steal a handful of his fries before he had the chance to stop you. “You just seemed like you needed to get out of your head a bit. This is what I do.” 

He raised his brows. “A midnight McDonald’s run?” 

“Sometimes it’s McDonald’s, sometimes it’s cookies,” you shrugged in response. “The snack changes. But the drive away from everything is what helps. God knows how many times I’ve done it when I was drowning in assignments or at work.”

He swallowed. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” your smile softened a little. “What’s up, bud? What’s got you like this?” 

“I…” Luke paused, trying to string his thoughts together but it was hard when they were swirling around in his head. “I don’t know. I just feel like I have spent the last few weeks like a robot, doing what I was supposed to be doing. But not…doing it. If that makes sense.” 

You nodded, your face remaining serious even if Luke was pretty sure he would have laughed at how bizarre it sounded if the roles were reversed. “You’re playing some intense games. Maybe your brain just needed a break.” 

“But I don’t want a break,” he said with a huff, frustrated at himself more than anything. “This is what I’ve been training for all my life. I should be able to fucking handle it.” 

“You can and you are,” you said to him. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t get some extra help along the way.” 

“Like what?” Luke snorted. “The other boys on the team—”

“Probably understand exactly what you’re going through,” you interrupted, nudging your knee against his. “You’d be surprised what you don’t know about a person, Luke.” 

He hummed, not saying much more as he stared at you with an inquisitive look. 

“You’re still playing really well,” you assured him, shifting your gaze away from him and back towards your food. “At least, most of the commenters are saying that. A few of them are dicks though. I have made a list of the ones I don’t like.” 

Luke laughed, somehow not surprised by that. “Yeah, kinda comes with the territory. I’m not gonna be everyone’s favourite player.” 

“Well, I think they are stupid,” you told him, your nose scrunched up slightly. “You’re my favourite player.” 

“Because you’re not biassed at all,” he teased.

“Hm, you’re right. I should be fairer,” you grinned at him, something quite like mischief shining in your eyes. “You’re playing the Canucks soon, right? I heard there’s this Hughes guy on the team that is really good—”

“Ha, ha,” Luke deadpanned before frowning a little. “I’m surprised you know.” 

“Please, it’s the only thing I’ve heard about for your last few days,” you said, scoffing a little in disbelief. Then again, Luke was rarely watching his games back with the running commentary over them. “The Hughes Bowl has quite a name to it though, I’m excited.” 

“Do you want to watch it?” Luke blurted out. “Like, in person.” 

You paused. “As in watching it in the arena?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing back his nerves. “I can get you a ticket. I happen to know a guy on the team or something.” 

You snorted. “Really? I’m happy to just watch it from home. I don’t want to put you in a tight position trying to get a ticket or anything.” 

“Nah, I can get you a ticket,” Luke reassured you, waving off your concerns. “Just one condition.” 

You raised your brows. “Oh?” 

“You gotta wear number forty-three,” he said with a grin. “Painted on your cheek or something. Proper puck bunny.” 

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder but his heart stuttered a little at the sound of your laugh.

“Alright, Hughes, I’ll be your puck bunny for the night because I’m a good friend like that.” 

And he chose to ignore the way the taste in his mouth instantly soured at that, instead leaning over to try and steal one of the chicken nuggets from your box instead. 

…

When Luke thought of going pro, he thought of high-speed skating and fast-paced games against some of the best players in the world. 

Never once in his daydreams as a child did he ever consider the media aspect of the job. Nor did he consider the fact it would be so fascinating to people that three brothers would be playing in one game. 

Which, in retrospect, he did understand why. He just really wished he was not one of the brothers. 

The whole week had been countless interviews and conferences of journalists asking the same question in different ways and Luke was losing his mind. 

How does it feel to play with your brothers in the NHL? 

Did you ever think the three of you would be playing in a NHL game together? 

Will your parents support different teams or both?

Are you excited to finally play Quinn on the ice after being on the same team as Jack for a few months now? 

Are your parents proud of all three sons playing together? 

Luke was surprised his mind hadn’t exploded after the third day of the insistent questioning. And he knew both Quinn and Jack were getting the same treatment, getting thrown questions every few minutes about Luke finally joining them in the big leagues. 

But it did little to squash the anxiety that had been bubbling in his chest all week. 

It felt like everyone was expecting a spectacle. It felt like suddenly all eyes were on them, on him. He wasn’t just a normal rookie anymore, suddenly he was the third Hughes brother that was meant to show how great and amazing he was compared to his brothers. Suddenly, it felt way more intense than an average game in the season. 

And yet, everyone else seemed excited whilst he felt like the only one who was drowning once again. 

“This is a cop out! You have to pick one!” 

“She’s trying to save your feelings because she would have obviously chosen a Canucks jersey.” 

“You’re both so immature,” Ellen commented, rolling her eyes fondly at her two eldest sons. “Luke hasn’t complained once.” 

Luke snapped out of his daze when all eyes turned to him. “Uh, yeah, the shirts are cool, Mom.” 

Ellen frowned a little. “Are you okay, honey? Jack, are you taking care of your little brother?” 

“Oh, he’s fine,” Jack waved off his parents, his legs swinging as he sat on the kitchen counter with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. “Lukey just has performance anxiety because his girlfriend is watching tonight.” 

“Girlfriend?” Ellen repeated before turning to her youngest with a smile. “You didn’t tell us we were meeting your girlfriend tonight.”

“Because you’re not,” Luke quickly bit out, shooting Jack an exasperated look. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just a friend. And her seat is in a different section.” 

“Just a friend,” Quinn snorted. “Sure, bud.” 

“Be nice,” Jim shot his eldest son a look. 

“Actually,” Luke suddenly shot up onto his feet. “I have to give her her ticket so I should get going. I’ll see you guys at the arena.” 

Ellen frowned. “Luke—” 

“Didn’t you say her ticket was waiting at the front office?” Jack questioned with a confused frown.

“Change of plans! I have to take it to her! Bye!” 

Luke didn’t give anyone in his family much chance to further question his behaviour before he was barrelling out the door, bag in one hand and his car keys (because yes, he did finally purchase his own car after Jack kept bitching) in the other. 

His brain was in overdrive as he started the car, his body once again working on muscle memory as he started the route to your apartment. It occurred to him as a passing thought that he should have messaged you to warn you, or check you were even home. But he never did.

Instead, he showed up at your door, knocking exactly three times before he paced his spot until the door swung open. 

And then every single thought left his brain the second he saw you. 

“Luke?” 

He cleared his throat. “I…game…ticket?” 

You laughed, a little nervous. “What?” 

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he murmured, shaking his head as he tried to get ahold of himself. “Everyone was talking about the game and I started spiralling and…here I am!” 

“Come in,” you said in a softer voice, your fingers wrapped around his wrist as you pulled him into the apartment, letting the door close behind him.

You guided him through the apartment, pulling him towards the kitchen and letting him settle back against the counter as he watched you grab a glass from the cupboard to fill it up with water for him. Or at least, he was trying to passively watch you and not focus on your attire that was making his head spin for a whole new reason. 

“I, uh,” he paused, clearing his throat. “I like your outfit.” 

“Yeah?” You grinned at him over your shoulder, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the deep red lipstick staining your mouth. “Is it puck bunny enough?” 

His eyes moved from your red lips to the number 43 painted on both cheeks before glancing down at the oversized Devils hoodie you had on. It had his number on the front, and on the sleeve. In fact, he was surprised they even sold those hoodies considering— 

“Is that my hoodie?” He questioned, straightening up a little whilst you just shrugged innocently. 

“I was working on a time crunch for merch to wear,” you answered with a smile. “And it was easier to steal considering you left it here the other day.”

“I would have given you it if you asked,” Luke murmured, thanking you as he took the glass of water from you and took a small sip. “Or I would have given you my jersey.”

Your nose scrunched. “Pretty sure you need that.” 

“I have spare ones,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes when you laughed in response. “You look good.” 

“I’m glad I passed the test,” you teased as you leaned against the counter beside him. “Now, wanna tell me what’s up? I thought you were going to talk to someone about this.” 

“I was. I just…didn’t know when,” Luke admitted shyly before sighing, placing the glass behind him on the counter. “I don’t know, I just feel like my head is spinning with so many thoughts and I don’t know how to shut it off. And that’s, like, the last thing I need before a game. Let alone this game!” 

You nodded in understanding.

“I just feel like there’s so many people I might possibly let down and I just can’t shake it off,” Luke added, his lips turned downwards. “I just want it to stop.” 

“You know,” you started. “I may have a temporary solution.” 

“Yes. Whatever it is. Yes.” 

“Luke,” you shot him a look. “You don’t even know what it is. Remember what we said about consent?” 

“I thought that was about sex stuff, why—” He paused, his lips parting in surprise. “Is your solution a sex thing?” 

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, it’s a sex thing. Do you trust me?” 

“Yeah,” Luke replied instantly. “Of course I do.” 

“Okay, good, then just let me take care of you,” you murmured before you leaned in to kiss him. 

Luke felt his shoulders drop a little the second he felt your lips on his, the second he felt your tongue darting out and teasing his own. His hands dropped to your waist to pull you closer, a soft moan leaving his lips as his hands slipped down to palm your ass. 

He was so lost in the sensation of kissing you—something he hadn’t done in a few days, thank you very much—that he barely noticed the way your fingers traced along the waistband of his trousers until the heel of your palm pressed down against his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Luke muttered under his breath, his brain lagging behind as he tried to keep up with your kisses as you began to palm his cock over his clothes. “Cherry, I—” 

“We can stop, if you want,” you reassured him, lightly nudging your nose against his. “Just say the word.” 

“Please don’t stop,” Luke rasped. 

Luke barely had a chance to process the wolfish smile on your face before you slid to your knees in front of him, one hand continuing to stroke him whilst the other moved to unbutton his pants. His mouth went dry at the sight.

“Cherry—” 

“Trust me, yeah?” 

Luke nodded. 

“Good boy,” you smiled before pulling his trousers down to his ankles. 

His hands shifted to grasp the counter behind him, leaning against it for support as he watched you lean forward and press a soft, feather-light kiss over his boxers. And then another. And another. All along the length of his cock before you reached the tip and lightly sucked over the material of his boxers. 

“Oh shit,” Luke swore, his knuckles going white at how hard he was holding onto the counter. 

“Just relax,” you hummed, your words vibrating against him as your fingers hooked on the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down his legs until they joined his pants by his ankles. “Gonna take care of you, help you get out of your head a little.

“Mhm,” Luke nodded, his voice a little more high-pitched than he would have liked. 

His eyes were glued to you, like he couldn’t even look away if he wanted to (not that he did). His eyes were transfixed on the way your hands gripped the base of his cock, the way his tip teased the same red painted lips he had been losing his mind over since you opened the door. 

Luke tucked his bottom lip between his teeth to try save some of his dignity when you shamelessly sucked on the head of his cock, moaning around him like it you were the one being pleasured. 

His chest felt like it was about to be caved in from his heavy pants, his fingers itching to pull the rest of his clothes off as you started moving your head, as you started bobbing and stroking him. 

He let out a choked out noise, something stuck between a moan and a whine as you took him deeper into your mouth. As your red lips wrapped around his cock, painting his skin the same colour as your lipstick. As your cheeks hallowed and the sight of his number painted on your face whilst you stared up at him with wide eyes became his favourite fucking sight in the whole world. 

And then you were moaning too, the feeling of your mouth vibrating around his cock so overwhelming that he could have sworn his knees actually buckled.

You pulled off, your hand still pumping up and down the length of his cock as you grinned up at him, unbothered and uncaring about the mess. Your lips were wet and smudged, a string of saliva just breaking from your lip to the tip of his cock. You leaned back on your knees, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks, glossy eyes and red lips he had bitten raw trying to hold back his moans. 

“God, look at you,” you mused, your thumb sliding over the slit on the tip of his cock. Your smile widened when he let out a shaky, breathless moan. “You look so pretty like this, Luke, wish you could see yourself.” 

“Bet—” He took a deep breath. “—my perspective is so much better.” 

“Yeah?” You hummed, leaning in to lick the beads of precome leaking from his lip. “You like this baby?” 

He nodded. “So much.”

“Good,” you smiled up at him, your eyes remaining on his face as you teased his cock along your lips again. “Be a good boy and come for me then.” 

There wasn’t a single thought in his head other than youyouyouyouyou. He could barely care about the state he was in or the fact he was probably due to head to rink soon because you were on your knees in front of him, bobbing your head up and down on his cock, taking him so deep that your nose was brushing the curls at the base of his cock. 

He could feel his muscles tensing, his hands grasping onto the counter like a lifeline as he shamelessly moaned your name as you kept going and going and going until he was coming down your throat. 

Luke wasn’t even sure at what point he closed his eyes, his head spinning as his orgasm washed over him and almost knocked him off his feet. He let out a shaky breath, slowly blinking his eyes open to look down and find you slowly swiping a dribble of his come that escaped and sucking it back into your mouth.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his dick pathetically twitching at the sight. He almost wished he could take a picture of you, just for himself to hoard. “You’re going to kill. Like, actually kill me.”

You laughed, your eyes glittering with an emotion he couldn’t quite understand. “Don’t die on me before I see you play in person, Hughes. You’ll let down your favourite puck bunny.” 

Luke could only roll his eyes fondly. “I’ll score a couple of goals for you to say thank you for the blowjob.” 

“I want a hatrick, Hughes.”

…

Luke did manage to score a goal at the end of the second period. 

And just to make it a little bit sweeter, the Devils did win the Hughes Bowl, much to Quinn’s dismay. 

But the lingering anxiety that had been gnawing at him for the last week was nowhere to be found as he felt his teammates laugh and hug and cheer around him, buzzing as they huddled their way down the tunnel and back towards the locker room. 

Jack was grinning as wide as he was as they peeled off their gear, rushing through their post-game routine and speeches so they could meet their parents and Quinn outside. He was letting himself get sucked into the celebrations, listening to whatever god awful playlist Nate had put on as they continued to mess about in the locker room, high off their win. 

“You should invite your friend to dinner,” was the first thing Ellen said once he and Jack exited the locker room. “To celebrate your win.” 

“And Quinn’s loss,” Jack added with a grin.

“Watch it,” Jim murmured, but it was fond as he wrapped his arm around Quinn. “We are proud of all three of you.”

“And we will kick your asses next time,” Quinn said in that quiet, confident tone only he could do. 

“Yeah, she should be hanging about. Let me text her,” Luke said, still riding off high spirits as he stepped away from his family and pulled his phone out. He couldn’t fight back the smile off his face when he found some messages already waiting from you.

cherry🍒: YOU SCOOOOORED!!! 

cherry🍒: i’m taking that as payment for earlier 

cherry🍒: you guys won because of a lucky blowjob

cherry🍒: wooooo!! you won my first live hockey game!! congrats!! 

hockey boy: hey u still around? 

cherry🍒: no sorry :( 

cherry🍒: i left after the final buzzer 

cherry🍒: why? what’s up?

Luke frowned a little, trying to fight the way his stomach twisted at the fact you left so quickly. He thought the unspoken invite to hang behind with him was obvious but apparently not. 

hockey boy: just wanted to see u after the game

hockey boy: jack keeps talking about u so my parents invited you to dinner 

cherry🍒: aw that’s nice of them, tell them thanks!

cherry🍒: but this night should be for you and your family!!

cherry🍒: not exactly a place for a friend haha 

cherry🍒: but we can celebrate together tomorrow after practice?

hockey boy: yeah sure 

hockey boy: i’ll come over 

cherry🍒: enjoy rubbing in the win to your brother ;)

“Luke?”

Luke cleared his throat, quickly locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket before he turned back to his parents. He put on a smile, one that felt far too similar to the media smile he gave the cameras, and shrugged his shoulders in response. 

“My friend is busy, other plans or something,” he lied through his teeth. “She said thank you for the offer though.” 

“Aw, maybe next time,” Ellen smiled. 

Luke only nodded in response, following his parents and his brothers out into the players’ car park as he ignored the bitter, ugly feeling bubbling in his stomach at the use of friend. He knew that’s what the two of you were, you had said so multiple times and so had he.

But Luke couldn’t help but wonder if there was a chance for something more. He couldn’t help but imagine a world where you would attend more games, where he would leave the locker room and you would be waiting for him beside his parents. 

He couldn’t help but wonder if you had been more than a friend in his head for far longer than he cared to admit. 

And he really couldn’t help but wonder if he was stuck in the friendzone for good with you. 

.

[dark-moonlust]

Lust Beneath the Waves PART 2

Pairing: Kraken x f!mermaid reader

Summary: the ocean knows you are the Kraken’s mate and carrying his offspring. Your mate is soft and caring, taking care of your needs especially now that you are pregnant. He always shows you off and keeps you well-fucked and happy.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, explicit tentacle smut, egg preg, exhibitionism, Kraken has two🍆 🍆, triple penetration, cockwarming. Don’t like, don’t read.

Read PART 3 here.

The ocean knew your secret.

You’d mated with the Kraken.

It was a secret you wore with pride.

Whispers carried the news through the currents, and every creature beneath the waves knew of the bond you now shared with the most fearsome monster of the seas. You were no longer just a mermaid; you were the Kraken’s mate and you carried his offspring. Your belly was swollen with his eggs, a constant reminder that your mate, for all his fearsome reputation, was tender and devoted only to you.

When you first met the Kraken, you were reluctant and scared. But that was no more. You embraced your mating bond with pride and contentment. You were his soulmate, the most precious thing in his life. You lived with him in the depths of the ocean, in a lavish cave that was yours to do as you pleased.

The Kraken gave you everything: his love, his tenderness, his cocks and tentacles.

He kept you close, always, his wiggling tentacles cradling your pregnant belly while his double cocks stayed permanently buried deep within you, one in your pussy and the other in your ass. He kept you filled at all times, he was fiercely possessive and wanted to constantly show off your union.

You rarely used your tail anymore; the Kraken’s magic had transformed it into legs, and because he fucked your holes at all times, you didn’t mind not using it. After all, you were so big and heavily pregnant that it was hard to swim and move around. You relied on your mate to help you and enjoyed the sensation of being carried by him.

The Kraken’s magic coursed through your veins, ensuring that your body adapted to his needs and to his eggs. He’d laid his eggs inside you from both your pussy and ass. You’d expected the sensations to be overwhelming, but thanks to his magic your body accommodated them without any harm or discomfort. There was only a mild sensation of fullness rather than pain.

Deep within your pussy, five eggs were nestled against your cervix, each one smooth, rounded and about the size of a human fist. In your ass, the other five eggs were similarly aligned and pressed against the walls of your rectum in a magical chamber that sacked them together. You would carry them for twelve months so you had a long way to go.

Carrying Kraken eggs made you impossibly aroused and in need of your mate. You craved his presence and his cocks or tentacles inside you. His seed was nutritious for the eggs so you were always filled in both pussy and ass, no matter where you were or who was around. Each movement of his cocks caused the eggs to shift slightly, sending waves of pleasure through you and keeping you in a state of heightened arousal.

The Kraken showed you off to the other ocean creatures, his beautiful mate, swollen with his spawn and constantly pleasured by his cocks. It was a display of his love and respect for you and everyone was eager to take a peek at the Kraken’s claiming.

And you didn’t mind. You trusted him completely, loved him deeply.

It was yet another day, and you were the star of another show as your mate fucked you for all to see.

The ocean was bustling with activity, all kinds of creatures witnessing the Kraken’s claiming.

Lying back against your mate, your thighs were splayed open for all to see, supported by his tentacles. The Kraken’s appendages cradled your swollen belly, his suckers lewdly slurping your sensitive nipples. Your pussy and ass were shamelessly exposed as his cocks took turns filling up your holes. They thrust rhythmically and occasionally changed holes, making you moan and writhe.

“I know you can take more, little mate,” your mate’s husky voice spoke in your mind. “Open wide.”

“Hmp…” you opened your mouth and accepted a slimy tentacle in your throat. It fucked you slowly, leaking nutrient juices in your belly.

“That’s it,” he drawled, his eyes going with predatory hunger. “Swallow it. There you go, such a good mate."

Working your throat, you licked the slimy tentacle fucking your throat. You felt the warmth liquid drip into your stomach while his cocks continued their steady pounding, your body trembling with pleasure until you shattered and came with muffled cries. Your holes clenched around his dicks and he kept fucking you through bliss, adjusting you in front of the audience so you were kneeling on the seabed. With an audible squelch, the cocks left your drenched holes, Kraken cum leaking out of your pussy and ass, dancing in the water.

Keeping you securely in place, he spread your pussy open with two tentacles.

You heard gasps and whispers from the crowd, felt their gazes, their envy and arousal, and they only fueled your love for your mate.

“Look at my beautiful mate,” the Kraken said proudly. “My mate. Mine! The most exquisite creature in the sea. Look how sweet her pussy is, how pretty and tight.”

He thrust a slimy tentacle in your plump cunt, wiggling it deep, so deep that it nudged against the eggs nestled within you. Another one followed, stretching your walls and pulsing up inside you. You moaned, fisted the sand in your palms as the tentacles fucked you deeply while the slime in your mouth thrust up and down, its slimy texture coating your lips and throat.

“M-mhh-mate… mphhh…” you managed to say once the tentacle finally slipped out of your mouth.

“What is it, sweet one?”

“Nnaaahh… need it fast and hard,” you whined, and pushed back against the tentacles in your pussy. “P-please.”

“All in good time, mate. I’m showing everyone how perfect you are. I showed off your pretty pussy and now I need to show off your pouting little asshole before I fuck it.”

Whining submissively, you stayed put as he angled your hips to give the audience a perfect view of his domination. His tentacles fondled your swollen belly, the proof of your union as his appendages opened the mounds of your ass, exposing your pouting rosebud to every onlooker. The tips of a thick tentacle prodded and stretched the rim before slipping deep inside your ass. Another one joined in, bottoming out inside you.

“Look at my sweet mate.” The Kraken looked at the abyss’s creatures, his deep, resonant voice echoing through their minds. “While you all scorn and fear me, my beautiful mermaid has accepted me and worships me with her body. She accepts me so completely, her ass stretching and accepting me deep.”

You whined and panted and he brought his cocks over your face. You obediently licked them up, your hands pumping the massive girths. The tentacles delved repeatedly in your pussy and ass, pouring juices all over the eggs nestled inside you. His cocks now rubbed against your breasts, leaking against your sensitive nipples. You made a cradle with your plump tits and pumped his cocks up and down while licking and suckling the heads.

The sensations were overwhelming, especially when another tentacle started flicking your clit. White-hot pleasure blinded you and you trembled in another orgasm, your walls clenching around the tentacles pounding your depths. The Kraken followed, cumming with a defeating roar and thrusting both cockheads in your mouth so you could swallow every drop of his seed.

“Glrkh—mnhhh!” you sucked and sucked, breathing steadily despite the tentacles fucking your holes.

“Yes, such a lovely mouth. Suck me dry,” he drawled, slimes caressing your face.

“Nnnaaahh… Kraken,” you panted softly as you gave kitten licks to the head of each cock. He had just released but he was hard as ever. He always was. “Such a good mate for me. So hard and ready.”

“Always for you, little one. Are you feeling alright?” he asked, moving you so your were straddling his huge body, his tentacles cradling your thighs and waist against him.

“Hmm…’m alright…” you clutched him, oversensitive at the tentacles filling you so completely. Every thrust made you see stars.

“You love this, don’t you?” he teased, his voice a seductive whisper. “You love being fucked by your mate and shown off to everyone.”

“Yes,” you whimpered, breathless with pleasure. “I love it. I love being fucked by my Kraken.”

“Love you, too, my little mermaid.” His tentacles slid out of you with an obscene squelch and you whimpered at the emptiness.

“Nooooo….”

“I’m here, little mate, I’m here,” he said comfortingly as he repositioned his cocks and surged inside you to the brim.

You moaned loudly; his shafts pulsed inside you, invading you so completely and rubbing against each other.

“So beautiful,” he gazed at you, his tone softer but no less possessive.

“Shall we go home now, my Kraken? W…want you to fuck me to sleep.”

“As you wish, my sweet one.”

Wrapping his larger tentacles around you, he pulled you closer and began to swim, his powerful body and tentacles cutting through the water. His cocks throbbed within you, the thick lengths filling you completely as he moved in slow, torturous thrusts. He carried you through the dark waters, the journey home a blur of orgasms and moans.

The Kraken guided you into your cave and laid you down on a soft bed of seaweed and leaves. His tentacles cradled your belly while his cocks fucked you in gentle strokes. You moaned softly against him, exhaustion mingling with pleasure. You relaxed into the embrace of his tentacles and reveled in his warmth and security.

“Rest now, my little mate,” he whispered. “I will keep you safe.”

You gazed up at him, your eyes heavy. “Hmmm… love you,” you murmured. With his cocks still buried deep within you, he rocked you gently, lulling you into sleep.

“And I love you,” he replied, watching over you.

I worked really hard for this. I hope you liked it! Please reblog with your thoughts and comment what you want to see next. 🖤 Follow for more and turn on notifications for when I update.

[nemesyaaa]

strangers // rubber man!rafe x female!reader

summary ; you thought you were alone in your new house. but the truth was...you never were.

warnings : rubber man belong to american horror story S1 (no spoilers). mature content. violence. threats. toxic and sick behavior. mentions and using of basement. oral (f&m receiving.). fear enthousiast. latex suit/mask. creepy strangers trope. manipulation. twisted plot. dubcon. p in v. erotic fantasy. handcuffs. fucked up concept. strangers by ethel cain lyrics inspiraton.mentions of murder. be careful with the warnings please. 3k words.)

author's note : /

you were done with the concept of reality.

it didn't make any sense anymore from the moment you moved into this giant house far away from your past life. and on your first night, you started having strange dreams about a mysterious masked man. you didn't know what he looked like, can't even portray him correctly because every time you saw him he was always wearing this damn latex outfit. the black suit was tight enough to make the features of his body totally impressive, especially the massive muscles hidden in the fabric, the rubber material plastering the outline of every ridges of his abs. his tiddies were so big and perfectly sculpted. the dark suit hugged him up to the thighs from his toned waist, the two formed lines of his v dragging your stare down his legs.

you could feel that beefy body through the air of your room, but especially when his whole weight was pressed, almost crushed against your back while he penetrated you violently, each stroke fucking you hard. one hand covering your mouth while the other was stuck tight on your hip, making you unable to move under his hold, as he muffled your breathy sounds with his fingers . you were such a mess, totally losing over the violence of his thrusts, the way his cock always came back in your insides with a rough thrust until your spot was overstimulated and you clenching around his girth.

the sex felt too deep, his presence too real.

this feeling of adaptation was strange. because since that night, every time you were able to close your eyes, you were now prepared. you knew he was coming, and you knew what awaited you. his raspy and masculine voice was always muffled inside his mask, even when he spoke to you through it.

his large hands knew how to take possession of your body when they rested on you. he didn't need to force it to make you his, you were like his doll that he had managed to tame.

but as he appeared in your dreams, you began to lose your mind, no longer discerning reality from imagination, because everything seemed so real. except that you were unable to tell if this man actually existed beyond your thoughts.

in the morning, you always wake up with this burning heat between your thighs, this bubbling wetness and a pain throughout your body. and it was so weird how now you couldn't satisfy yourself with your own fingers. you always had the habit of touching yourself, and especially this ease in making you cum. but now your pussy has become temperamental. she wanted something better, and bigger, something that would shape and satisfy her needs.

you were therefore haunted and tortured by this mysterious stranger who came to inhabit each of your nights.

“please…” you had gone so far as to beg your pussy to make it easier for you.

you were hot and panting but unable to give yourself any pleasure, yet three of your fingers were buried inside you. you tried to stimulate your hole with rapid strokes, with a speed that usually helped you reach orgasm. except it didn't work today.

tears formed around your eyes, sensitive to this dissatisfaction, to the rejection of your own body. so you closed your eyes. you knew very well what you were doing at that moment.

“ look at you, already so pathetic that you have to beg me to touch you. ” he said, shushing you with his clothed mouth above yours, brushing the frame of your trembling lips. “ don't hurt yourself, pretty thing. ”

you imagined his fingers between your weeping slit, which were longer and bigger, more suited to your pussy. you felt each of them insert themselves into you, thickness filling your soaked walls clinging directly to them, your pussy lips parting in his path as he began to finger you with vigor. “ you're feeling it ? how deep is it ? ”

your moans had fled the corner of your lips, each sound coming out as easily as that wetness that ejected from your folds as he touched you. he had the touch, but above all know how to fuck you like that, as well as for a month, he knew your pussy better than you, and he knew how to fill it.

your hips began to move simultaneously with his fingering, while you moaned and cried, letting him be the master of your body. your clit throbbed nastily against his thumb as he rubbed circles around your button.

you were as uncontrollable like the thrusts he was giving inside your pussy. his fingers were magical, they fucked you so well that you found it hard to believe that his cock could do better, and yet, she, better than anyone, filled you.

“h-h-harder...” you barely stammered, the words coming out with difficulty from your panting mouth.

you guessed a smile through the fabric of his Mask. “what about better ? " he replied before unzipping the bottom of his suit to reveal his big wet cock whose large girth he had locked in his fist. " i think that's what that pussy wants, she's literally dripping for. ”

you nodded. “ use your words. ”

“fuck me…”

"yeah, that's what you want. because no other man can do it better than me, huh?”

" No..."

and it was like that all the time, too often. it had become normal.

No matter how much you did speed dating, went to parties to meet men, tried to get out of this spiral, you always came back to him. as if from the minute you met him, he possessed you.

one night, you came home late from a party. you could even tell that you were drunk enough to have needed your friends to call you a cab, which rarely happened.

you were dizzy enough not to realize your door was already open. you barely took three steps when your mouth had been violently covered, shutting your breath roughly while your waist being encircled by an arm was now pinned against your stomach.

you started to defend yourself but it must surely seem ridiculous because your movements were not at all coordinated. he laughed at your clumsiness when you fell to the ground, before he kicked the front door open and slammed it into the hall.

“who the fuck are you…?!” you shouted.

“how about we talk about this in a quieter place, ...what about the basement ? don't tell me you didn't know about that pretty place downstairs. such a shame. ”

he came closer to offer you his hand. “ let me fix that. ” except you shook your head. it seemed more like a trap than a gesture of tenderness. and mostly, you wanted to know who he was.

if all of this was a dream, why did this look too real ?

“i’m going to call the police if you don’t get out of my house. ” you tried to warn with a kind of trembling voice.

he leaned over you, his broad frame resting on his two bent knees, and he grabbed you by the hair, forcing you to look slightly up at him.

"but for that babe, you should at least be able to reach the phone. and it's not like i give you that possibility. ”

“ please...” you shouted in a desperate scream of rage.

"i have to admit, when i see you like that, sweetheart. it's really...tempting. but what about those threats ? don't you want to call the police ? go ahead, i'm watching you’. ”

“ please. i didn't do anything…” you said softly, you didn’t even know how to react. your instincts told you to run as far as you could, but you felt like there was no escaping him.

"you want to hear something that i have in my mind ? i thought hearing you scream was my favorite thing but that was until i heard you beg." he caressed his cheek against your tear-wet one, before his voice whispered in your ear. "if only you could hear how divine you are…”

you backed away, crawling back towards the living room before starting to run, ribcage burning from fastened heartbeats but that was obviously a stupid move because he had caught up to you. he took advantage of your fall during your impact to drag you to the ground by the legs.

"i beg you...! i will behave..."

" too late to be a good girl, sweetheart. want to have an attitude ? keep it until i'm done with it. ”

you continued to try and struggle as he pulled you to the ground, but his grip was stronger. “ are you done, yet ? Or do you want to continue that poor struggle power that would leave you anywhere but in the basement. ” you were stuck while he took you, you didn't know where in your own house.

he opened a door with a hard kick, letting your gaze on the darkness spot. it was the basement as he mentioned. you had never been there but it was gloomy, cold, soundproof and dark, you didn't like the atmosphere at all. even less with this sick person who could kill you so easily, and who, above all, seemed to want to.

“what are you going to do?”

"finally interested to know what i want? ” he chuckled with a sick face.

your heart was racing. a feeling of fear resonated inside you, and your body trembled. you couldn’t tell how many tears had ruined your face.

you knew it was impossible to calm down a man like him. he seemed too crazy in his head to listen to you. and above all his own inner voices gave the feeling of dominating him. you were powerless, and he had full power.

you had to somehow accept your punishment because you were a captive at the moment anyway.

“no more fighting?” he asked you, still smiling through the mask. “ we're done with this ? or are you gonna show me another resistance ? ”

“show me your face.” you replied.

"Bad for you, but I'm the only one who demands things here."

you lowered your head in an act of abandonment. you were tired. and above all, you barely understood what was happening to you.

you were facing a man who was hidden by a latex suit, which as attractive as the outfit was, freaked you out atrociously. you were afraid of dying, and most of all, you just wanted him to leave you alone.

“are you going to continue to resist me if i let you go?”

“are you going to give me another reason to do it?” you answered with a bigger tone.

“ enjoy being a brat? ”

“ i enjoy everything that makes you upset at the moment. ”

he laughed, and damn, you hated that laugh. it was arrogant of him. “ glad that you're enjoying our little moment because i don't know if i should let you go. ”

“ i’m asking you kindly.”

“how cute.”

" what ?"

“that you think it will change anything. ”

you raised your hand intending to punch him in the face but he cradled your arm in his fist with a smirk. "no silly moves, baby. and you know what? i'm tired of this attitude."

he had put handcuffs around your wrists. “ i let you more than one chance to behave, but now, i'm done. it's over. ”

“asshole.”

"nice try, sweetheart. but it's rafe. r-a-f-e. and if you don't want me to print those fucking initials on your body, watch that mouth."

you had weakened in the face of the threat because you knew he was capable of the worst. when he felt you shiver, he rolled the back of his hand against your thumb tenderly. "see? how are you making me act because you refuse to behave."

“you’re sick.”

“keep going, and maybe you’ll see how much.”

“go get a treatment, r-a-f-e.” you sarcastically spelled out his initials.

unfortunately for you, he wasn't amused at all.

"open your mouth." he said as he took his cock out of his suit. “I’ll show you how to make it useful.”

“I’m going to bite.” you warned.

“bite it, and I’ll make sure you feel the exact same pain. now, widen that mouth for me. you're lucky, i'm not making you beg for it, but don’t worry, it's because you're already so pathetic. ”

he pushed his cock inside your mouth in one brutal thrust, one hand resting on your shoulder, before starting to move back and forth to the back of your throat. you could feel each of his moves destroying your cavity, your tiny throat tightening like a vice around him.

his length was huge enough to open your mouth completely, stuffing you inside. your tongue wrapped around him, licking his entire girth. you had been so widened that the corners of your lips were drooling, saliva dripping over your jaw.

your vision was blurred, tears blocking your vision as you sucked, your throat violated by his thrusts. you could see his blue eyes shine, but more importantly hear the muffled grunts in the mask mixed with his heavy breath as you pumped him faster, your slurpy mouth working on him like a sex machine. “ don't be a crybaby, those tears are pretty on you but not gonna save you. ”

you had licked and moistened everything, coated his entire cock with your saliva which rolled under the veiny flesh of his dick. you thought if you did this well he would let you go. you felt his hand grip your shoulder, his fingers digging into your skin as you dripped onto his dick.

it was so big, but above all it hit the back of your throat repeatedly. his fat length disciplined you with disconcerting ease. you'd be lying if you said you weren't soaked down there, because unfortunately, you were. there was a soaking wet spot in your panties just waiting to be licked and devoured.

your breathing was completely frantic around his member which continued to swell around your wet lips. he took pleasure in seeing you give him the blowjob of his life just out of desperation and fear.

at one point, he had slipped his hand against your neck, and had taken the opportunity to sink deep into you until you felt the air running out of you, and the burning feeling of suffocation. when he pulled his cock out, it was really sloppy, a trickle of drool connecting his tip and your slobbery mouth.he pushed you against the ground, and spread your legs with a movement of his hand.

"I dare you to close them..." he said, feeling your brat behavior coming back to the fore.

you hadn't moved, and he placed himself on his knees between your thighs, his cock lubricated by all your drool in his hand. he rubbed the tip against your soaked folds, enjoying running it between your nether lips, going in and out.

you started to twitch. you wanted to scream at him to put it in but you also didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

"why all the fuss? do you want me to fuck you?"

you didn’t respond. you simply rolled your eyes so you wouldn't have to look at him anymore. “ should say it instead of poorly crying for it. ”

“say what?” you played falsely.

"I'm not going to repeat myself. but I can still have fun with you."

you had quickly capitulated..."fuck me...please...rafe."

and it didn't take much for him to find himself in you. he was so buried inside you that you could have even felt his balls expanding your pussy. he started to give hard strokes, hitting each of your nooks and crannies and he was touching you to the deepest. your body spasmed as he pounded your canal, and your pussy clenched around him, making him even hornier.

you moaned so loudly that he had to cover your mouth with his palm, muffling every one of your cries as he fucked you hard into the floor. you could hear the skin on your ass jiggling against the ground, and the wet sounds of his cock penetrating you echoing around the room.

“y-your...mask...” you panted beneath him. “Take it off.”

“ babe want to see who make her feel so good ? alright. ”for some reason you didn't know but he listened to you without stopping pounding your pussy.

and while you were expecting to see someone really ugly, he had removed his mask, and the sweat-soaked strands of his curtain bangs had fallen onto his forehead as he gave you another deep thrust with a twisted smile falling on his lips, making you flinch wildly.

“ satisfied ? ”

his smooth face left you speechless, you couldn't help but admire him, as he also removed the latex suit at least up above his hips. his body was as muscular as the costume had suggested. he pushed your handcuffed hands back above your head, while you dove under the identity of your stranger.

his eyes were bright, almost with tears. Was it the fucking that was so intense or the emotion? he moaned as much as you, as loud as you as the climax approached, but above all as your pussy took it so well.

you couldn’t ignore the intensity that had built between you ever since he took off his mask.

he buried his face against your shoulders, his big nose touching and rubbing your collarbones as he debauched you completely, jawline hitting your bones, each strike of his cock leaving a moan against your lips and his palm.

his dick stretched you wide, making you cum all around him. he had been drenched by your juices but he didn't stop. he continued to fuck you, not slowing down the pace. he continued to give intense thrusts until he felt your second orgasm making you panting even more.

he wanted to fuck you until you were completely senseless and dumb. he wanted to see you lose control, because he loved seeing your eyes roll with dizziness, but mostly feeling your body tremble with pleasure under the weight of his.

and your thoughts. oh, he was convinced that you were incapable of forming any of them. it was like he was fucking you hard enough that even your brain was touched and hit by his merciless.

when he came, he did it strategically inside you. you had filled with his thick hot loads which had started to drip from your pussy down to his thighs.

“already tired? "he mocked you, before grabbing your face with his hand.

" r-rafe..."

" whats the matter, brat doll ? realize that you can't take the dick you begged for ? "

when he released you, your head hit the ground, and you woke up screaming. you hastened to go downstairs and into the basement. but there was nothing except the void as your stomach ache of the strange feeling.

you slapped your cheeks, pinched your arms but nothing. It all seemed like a dream. you didn't even have handcuffs. and since when did you have handcuffs in your basement ?

you went back into the kitchen and found a note on the table. it had the police number, with the initials R C engraved just at the bottom.

but the phone rang before you dialed the number.

"hello? who's on the phone?"

“How about we play again?”

"rafe. I'm really going to call the police."

"yes, that's what I want you to do, sweetheart. but I want you to answer one question first. ”

“ say it. i'm only allowing you one question.” you replied.

“do you think they’ll find you before or after I kill you? ”

[starlightguh]

The Sharpest Tongue

Word count: 2,822

Summary: What if the stone Sylus won hadn't been the right one to send him and MC home to Linkon? As MC struggles to learn the local language, she finds herself the subject of the other warriors in the clan. Too bad it seems like Sylus has the sharper tongue amongst them all.

Tags: Cunnilingus, Grasslands AU, Jealous!Sylus

A/N: This is a bit shorter than I had planned, but I wanted to write something for the grasslands AU and saw someone mention we needed more jealousy grassland stories, so here you go! 100% transparency, I could not find anything on Talanian language, so I used Mongolian words, I'm not familiar with the language so if there are mistakes, I apologize!! I hope you enjoy nonetheless. Find this fic on Ao3 as well!

The Khan had given Sylus the bright red stone for his victory in the battle against the best warriors in the clan. My worries weren’t for nothing as there wasn’t any trace of meta flux emanating from it. No matter how hard either of us tried, we couldn’t resonate with it.

So we were stuck in the grasslands.

For someone who should have been happy due to our victory, both me and Sylus held somber faces around the celebratory fires and festivities. I could feel his red eyes staring at my downcast face as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

“We’ll just keep searching kitten…As long as we’re together we can keep looking for a way to return home.”

I inhaled deeply and nodded silently as I turned to look at him, his expression was really soft and full of apology. I wanted to go home badly. But…Sylus had a point, wallowing won’t do anything. We’ll just make a plan to find a way back to Linkon.

I steeled myself by fixing my slouched posture and closing my eyes to take deep breaths. After a few moments I opened my eyes and smiled at Sylus, “Well I guess now is the time to embrace the nomad lifestyle…Until we find our way back home that is.”

Sylus stands, my eyes lingering on his distracting buff physique as he holds out his hand.

“Let’s not weep and try to make the most of our time together, hm? Shavanika.”

His baritone voice stirs an excitement in my belly as I take his hand and he begins to twirl me to the rhythm of the festive music the villagers are playing by the campfire. I feel the beads in my hair slap my cheeks as I spin around the orange hues of the warm flames near me. For a brief while as me and Sylus danced around the flames, my anxieties had drifted away. I was grateful to have him by my side and ease my worries.

My bare feet feel unsteady as I haphazardly try to follow the rhythm of an unfamiliar tune, but the warm and strong arms of the silver-haired warrior in front of me hold me steady. I smile and laugh at Sylus’ serious expression as we dance and lose ourselves to a night full of joy.

—————————

After the festival, we packed up and moved to travel alongside the rest of the villagers. Me and Sylus agreed we would adapt to our surroundings of the people around us as we tried to find any clues about a way home.

I was not the fastest learner, but I did get a few things down, the women taught me duties I was expected to help with, from herding livestock, sewing, cooking, and laundry, I was slowly earning my place amongst the others. However, I was struggling with learning the language. I could pick up a few words here and there, but I couldn’t really understand or communicate as properly as I would like.

Then there was Sylus, he was a polyglot so picking up the language wasn’t difficult for him. He must have been fluent only after a solid two weeks of study. I was envious, but also grateful since I relied on his help a lot to learn and understand.

The warriors happily accepted Sylus, he easily fit in and would help them with hunts for resources as well as military strategies and ideas. The Khan favored him a lot and Tara told me whispers of them wanting to promote Sylus to a general title.

While we hadn’t been traveling with our clan for more than a month, we easily slipped into our roles quickly. And now it seems we quickly have found ourselves involved in more politics than we would like.

It was like any other day, I was riding my cream-colored stallion through the grassy fields trying to get the flock of sheep on the right path. I called out the different sounds and commands I was taught while keeping a stead-fast pace on horseback.

My hunter's instincts kicked in as I noticed one sheep was away from the herd, and upon further investigation, it was being hunted by a hungry coyote.

“Shit,” I hissed to myself and acted quickly as I grabbed a rope from my satchel. As the coyote pounced, I lassoed it and used my strength to pull him away from the sheep.

I was heaving and sweaty as I just lifted the clueless sheep back to the herd. As I was getting back on my horse, I heard some whistles call out to me. I glanced around and noticed a group of four warriors walking up and cooing at me.

I didn’t really recognize them, I only knew they were of the same clan since their chest guards had the same color ropes that Sylus wore. The men spoke to me in Talanian, but I could only pick out words like ‘strong’ and ‘brave.’

“I uh…am not familiar with the language yet, chlaarai .”

They seemed to just smile as one made a comment to the group in Talanian, they laughed and just waved goodbye toward me as they rode off.

I didn’t think much of this encounter until the next day.

We had set up camps deep in the Northern Grasslands, orange was taking over the skies as the dawn broke. I was hanging clothes I had just washed in the river on a clothesline outside one of the elder's yurts.

Behind me I heard the sharp tongue of Talanian, I glanced and noted those same big warriors from the other day were talking. I had paid them no mind as I did my duties.

Suddenly I heard the sharp thuds of angry footsteps behind me and a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist. I glanced up and saw a very pissed-off Sylus glaring off in the direction of the four other men.

He yelled at them in Talanian and growled when the other men responded in what I could only assume was a taunt. Sylus let go of my waist and marched up to one of the men and grabbed him by his leathers. People started to gather to watch the rowdy commotion.

I turned and saw Tarna and sighed in relief since she could explain what was going on, “Hey, Tarna….What exactly is happening?” I asked her urgently as it sounded like the men were raising their voices.

“Well…It seems the Khan’s second son Gansu said something about your er….” She paused and looked shy when translating what was said, “birthing hips, and how he wanted you as a wife to bear his children.”

I stood frozen as it all clicked into place. I looked over at Sylus who was still arguing with them, a scowl marred on his face.

“Sylus came in and said they shouldn’t speak about you that way that you were his beloved. Gansu told him that it didn’t matter to him unless you two were wedded or you were pregnant.”

“Seriously?!? If he’s the son of a Khan he can marry whoever he wants. Why would he want me?”

Tarna shook her head at me, “That’s why Sylus is arguing, he says that you are with him and will never have anyone else’s children.”

The arrogant Gansu held a smirk as he practically hissed at Sylus, a dark expression glazed over Sylus’ face. I’ve only ever caught glimpses of Sylus angry, but never this murderous.

“What did he say?” I asked Tarna, my voice full of worry. I could feel the icy chill of Sylus’ anger even from a distance.

“Gansu just said ‘well whoever takes it keeps it’ as a threat… I think you should go over and stop Sylus, if he gets in a fight with the Khan’s son they could severely punish him,” Tarna warned me.

I nodded and without a second thought, I ran up behind Sylus and gently placed my hand on his lower back. His tense body seemed to ease up a bit at my touch as I tried my hardest to speak in Talanian.

“ Amarkhan bai….S-Shavanika …” Fight not, beloved . These were the only words I could best make out with my limited knowledge.

Silently he grabbed my hand and glared down Gansu as he turned to walk away with me. I felt his grip on my hand tighten as Gansu and his men still taunted behind us. We began walking off towards our yurt and it wasn’t until we were a safe distance away I had to whimper to Sylus.

“Your grip is too tight it hurts,” I cried.

He seemed to snap out of his trance and he softened his grip and rubbed his large thumb soothingly across my hand, “Sorry sweetie… I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I don’t exactly know what was said, but Tarna translated some of what you guys were saying. I didn’t realize the Khan’s son and his friends saw me herding sheep yesterday.”

“The Talanian language is very harsh, most of the words are very direct. The disgusting words from the Khan’s second son really got under my skin is all… Why didn’t you tell me you ran into him yesterday?”

“I didn’t think it was important… Also, I hardly saw you yesterday,” I sigh, “You came back to our tent pretty late… Are you sure you weren’t up practicing Talanian with the other village girls?” I hiss a bit. While the Khan’s son may be chasing my skirts, I can’t ignore the fact that all the girls of the village have been trying their hardest to catch Sylus’ eye.

Sylus stopped in his tracks and growled he turned to me and looked down with a sharp gaze, “How many times do I need to express to you I’m not interested in the other village girls?”

I match his glare and put my hands on my hips, “And how many times do I have to tell you I can handle myself, the Khan’s son doesn’t scare me. I’ll just refuse him.”

Sylus tsked his lips and leaned down to lift me up on his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down!”

“No. It seems like I need to practice Talanian with the only village girl who matters to me,” he says sharply. He gives my butt a playful smack as I’m hoisted over his shoulder, my face in the direction of his backside.

I smack his butt back and he just chuckles, “You’re not getting out of this one Shavanika, so simmer down kitten.”

When he strutted into our tiny little yurt and set me down, his red eyes shined with a mixture of excitement and mischief. His hand remained on my waist as he spoke in a low and seductive tone.

My back arched at the feeling of his hands trailing down my waist and gathering my skirts up in his large rough palms. He set his other palm in the dip on my hip as he stared at me with almost an appraising look in his eye. “Let’s start with the lesson…What did that man call these?”

His left dominant hand was under my skirt caressing my thigh, I let out a shaky breath as I closed my eyes and tried to remember the foreign words spoken earlier.

“T-Toro? Kha-?” I sputtered out as his palm found its way to one of my bare-asscheeks. He squeezed it and tsked his lips as he brought his face closer to mine and he spoke lowly.

“Torkah Khongo,” the purr in his voice did nothing but further my arousal. I was being engulfed by the dominant energy Sylus was putting out. It didn’t take very much for me to become putty in his strong hands.

His other hand reached under my skirt as well and without further notice, the lengthy skirt that usually met my ankles were now scrunched up at my waist. Underwear wasn’t a common thing within the tribe, so I had been forced to forgo that luxury and be commando under my lengthy traditional clothing. I think for a situation such as a lustful Sylus, it was beneficial to be as naked as possible.

“Do you know what the translation is?” He quirked a brow.

“B-Birthing Hips?”

“Mhmm,” there was a slight growl to his response, “he said that you had the birthing hips to bear him many sons.” Sylus gripped my hips in a tightening grip. “Too bad for him these hips are miniikh.”

Sylus dropped to his knees in a squat as his mouth bit a part of my inner thigh, his hands rubbing the bare skin before him. “Do you know the translation?”

His mouth placed hot and wet kisses in my inner thigh, teasing me by being so close to where I actually wanted his mouth. I gasped out an answer as he was torturing me with kisses, “M-Mine?”

“Good girl, seems like you do know more than I thought,” he whispers breathlessly, “Let me reward you.”

He then licked my dripping slit, I let out a whimper in surprise.

“Tell me, who do these hips belong to?” He asked as he pulled away from licking my heat.

“Y-You.”

He smacked my thigh at my answer, “Ah-Ah-Ah, in Talanian sweetie.”

“ Ta,” I moaned out as he suckled on my sensitive pearl.

With a pop of his lips, he pulled away and smirked, “Hmm that’s a good answer, but I have a better one. Repeat after me: Nökhör .”

The pronunciation of the word feels strange as I try my best to repeat it, “noct-core?”

Sylus just shakes his head and repeats it slower for me, when I finally pronounce it right he rewards me by entering one of his fingers into my dripping center.

“Keep saying it sweetie, practice makes perfect,” he chuckles and his mouth finds my center again as he slowly devours me.

With his finger slowly pumping me and his greedy tongue flickering on my sensitive folds, my voice is nothing but a loud and needy whine of this new word he’s taught me and I haven’t a clue what it means. All I know is Sylus likes it as he happily groans into my dripping cunt.

“Louder. I want the whole tribe to hear you scream it, so everyone knows we belong to each other and no one else,” his lower face is dripping in my essence and his red eyes have a bit of a manic and desperate look as I look down on him.

“Sylus….” I lose my mind as he now has three fingers in me and the mouth of a sinner as he loudly slurps at my folds with his sharp tongue.

Ecstasy and euphoria wash over me as I come on his face with that new and unfamiliar word on my tongue. My knees shake and nearly give out, but Sylus stands and lifts me up so my legs are wrapped around his middle.

I lean my head forward as I pant into his ear, “What’s the translation of that word.”

He laughs as he rubs my back while I come down from my high, “Why, it’s my future title…It means ‘husband.’”

“Sylus! How bold of you to assume!”

He frowned at this and glared at me, “I'm not assuming anything, but unless you want to be the wife of the Khan’s son, then you must be mine…I can’t protect you from the leaders otherwise.”

I blush, “I-It’s just so embarrassing….I never thought about marriage.”

He smirks a bit, “Well I'm glad I can change your mind, at least while we’re here. Linkon has a very different culture from the grasslands, and we can talk about a proper marriage when we return home. Deal?”

“Fine but you’re not knocking me up while I'm here,” I huff at him as he lays me down on our pelts and strips off the rest of his clothes.

“I make no promises, but I’ll do my best. You’re just too tempting, Shavanika.”

“Only for you my Nökhör.”

That night Sylus made me scream so loud that the Khan’s son did nothing but glare daggers as Sylus confidently walked through the village the next day I, on the other hand, was forced to stay in bed due to my wobbly knees. When I finally returned to my duties after a day's rest, the other girls just giggled as they saw me.

Tarna translated a message for me that the elders are happy for whatever blessings me and Sylus marriage may bring, but to keep it to ourselves at night. I was horrified and embarrassed, while Sylus walked around as the proud warrior both in the grasslands and in the bedroom.

The strongest warrior and the sharpest tongue will always come out on top I suppose.

~fin~

Translation guide:

Shavanika - Beloved

Chlaarai - Sorry

Amarkhan bai - Fight not

Torkah Khongo - Birthing Hips

Miniikh - Mine

Ta - You

Nökhör - Husband

[cjlouwho]

prompt: buck gets hurt at a scene due to gerrard. tommy is working ground ops and becomes livid with gerrard. maybe someone has to pull tommy off of him! anyway, buck ends up finding it hot.

“In one word, how would you describe Tommy?”

“Uh... cool.”

“Firefighter Buckley! E- Evan! Evan! Do you copy?!” His heart was racing. He could feel it pounding in his ears.

He didn't wait long for a response. Didn't go back for his helmet or his oxygen. He just ran. He ran past the rest of the 118, who yelled at him to wait. He tore loose of the grasp that Eddie had on him for a brief second. He ignored the way his eyes started to burn before he even got in the building. He gasped and choked against the dryness in his throat as soon as he was inside.

He only had to take a few steps in when he was stopped by a caved in ceiling that blocked any path. That didn't matter anyway, because somewhere underneath the ceiling was Evan.

Evan, who shouldn't have been in the building anyway.

Evan, who had yelled over the radio that he could hear the structure beginning to collapse.

Evan, who cut out before he could finish relaying the information because the ceiling fell on top of him.

He was under there somewhere.

And Tommy was going to dig him out or die trying.

He wasn't alone. He knew that. He could hear familiar voices around him. They were yelling, calling out to Buck, tossing away debris. Tommy knew they were trying to help, but it wasn't fast enough.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough.

It wasn't enough!

“Evan!” He screamed over the sounds of the creaking building all around him. His throat felt like it was on fire.

He didn't care.

“Evan! Evan, where are you?! Make a sound!”

What about you? One word to describe Tommy.”

“Hm... I'll go with stoic.”

He could hear a different voice over the radio. The voice of a man he hated.

“118, evacuate immediately! You're disobeying a direct order!”

He was the reason they were having to dig for Evan right now. The building had been evacuated. All personnel had been accounted for. Except Gerrard decided he didn't agree with the head count. He didn't believe that everyone had gotten out. Swore he saw movement inside.

It didn't take much to convince Buck. If he thought someone was still in danger, he was going to go back in and rescue them.

It's what any of them would have done.

But Buck had been Gerrard's target.

There wasn't anyone else in the building. A part of Tommy wondered if Gerrard had actually seen anything at all.

No one else knew that Buck had gone back in at the time. They were all busy tending to the wounded or working on stabilizing the fire. It wasn't until his voice came over the radio that they learned he was inside. And then the roof came crashing down.

“I repeat, get your asses out now! We'll begin a recovery mission when the fire is completely out.”

Recovery... not rescue.

Tommy ripped the radio off of him and slung it across the room. It didn't matter that the others still had their radios on. That Gerrard's voice was still echoing through the smoke-filled space. It wasn't right in his ear anymore, so he could concentrate on what mattered.

He continued digging so vigorously that he was gasping and panting for breath. He could hear the wheezing escaping him. His muscles ached and sweat dripped into his eyes.

He kept going anyway. Nothing would stop him.

“Your turn.”

“These games are hard.”

“They're not games, they're personality tests. I wanna see how right we are. Now, one word. Tommy. Go.”

“Ugh! Fine. He's adaptable.”

Tommy tossed more and more pieces of rubble away until he hit something that was not part of the roof.

It was a shoe.

Or a boot, to be more accurate.

Evan.

“Evan!” he yelled. “Hey, I- I got something! Over here! Help!” He continued digging to get to Evan as the rest of the 118 came over to help.

“Come on, Evan. Move! We've got you, we've got you.”

Evan didn't move.

He didn't move when they got the last of the debris off of him.

Didn't move when they pulled off his helmet and mask to check for a pulse.

Didn't move when Chimney looked over at Hen and shook his head.

“We've gotta get him out of here!” Chimney yelled. Before they could get into position to lift him together, Tommy was reaching under his knees and arms, hoisting him up and carrying his lifeless body out of the building.

He ran until he made it outside, then carefully laid Evan on the ground and began chest compressions. He wasn't sure how quickly he moved, but it took a few seconds for the group to catch up to him. “Come on, Evan!” Tommy yelled as he counted. “Come on, Baby! Breathe, Evan! Breathe!”

He felt hands on his shoulders, someone- Chimney, he thinks- was telling him to stop. To let them take over.

He kept going.

“Breathe, Baby, just breathe!”

“Now you.”

“I'd say calm under pressure.”

“That is not one word.”

“Okay, so one word for calm under pressure then.”

“Composed?”

“That'll do.”

“You know, calm works too, guys.”

“Please, Evan!”

Suddenly, arms were wrapping around him, pulling him off of Evan before he could try to fight back or protest.

He jerked away from the hold, twisting to see it was Eddie. “What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled.

“They've got it, Tommy,” he replied, his own voice shaking with worry. “Let them handle it.”

He turned back around to see Chimney and Hen working on Evan. They had already torn his shirt and had him ready to be shocked.

Tommy moved beside him, kneeled down and got as close as he could without touching him. “Evan, you gotta breathe. Please, just breathe.”

As soon as he was shocked, the monitor came to life. “I got a pulse!” Chimney exclaimed. “Let's get him ready for transport.”

Tommy thought that would be the moment his own breath would come back to him. He thought that's when he'd feel joy and relief.

He didn't.

As they got Evan ready to go to the hospital, Tommy's gaze drifted up.

Right to Gerrard.

He could feel his blood boiling. A rage like he'd never felt before seeping through every pore in his body. He didn't listen as Eddie came up beside him, telling him he needed to go to the hospital and get checked out too.

He breezed right past him. His pace quickened the closer he got to Gerrard. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the man, and his arm was going back, then making direct contact with Gerrard's nose. “You son of a bitch!” Tommy yelled as Gerrard stumbled backwards. He brought both hands to his face, blood seeping out between his fingers.

Tommy didn't care. He took another step and grabbed onto Gerrard's turnouts. “You sent him in to die!” he shouted as he shoved him against a firetruck.

“I'll have your job, Kinard!”

“You won't get the chance.” The words came out in a growl. It wasn't a threat, but a promise. He didn't care what happened to him in that moment, as long as Gerrard could never hurt another person again. His arm went back, but this time he had people grabbing onto him and pushing him away.

“He's not worth it, Man!” Eddie yelled. Holding his arms out between Gerrard and Tommy to keep them apart. “He's not worth it. Go be with Buck.” Eddie pointed back to the ambulance, which was seconds away from leaving for the hospital. “Go!” he demanded.

“If something happens to him,” Tommy warned, staring Gerrard down, “I will kill you.”

“Tommy!” Eddie yelled. “Go!”

With a final glare, Tommy turned, running for the ambulance.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“One word. How would you describe me?”

“One word isn't enough.”

“It's all you've got.”

“Then... Loving. No! Caring. No! Affectionate. Wait-”

“Evan.”

“This is hard!”

“Gotta pick one, Babe.”

“Fine. I think, loyal. Yeah, that's a good one. You're loyal.”

There were two very uneasy days in the hospital before Buck woke up.

Tommy wasn't there when it happened. He'd been at the hospital for forty hours straight when Maddie demanded he go home, shower, and eat something before he came back.

He had just stepped out of the shower when he got a text from Maddie saying he was awake and alert.

He'd never gotten dressed so fast in his life.

His hair was still a mess of wet curls when he raced back into the hospital. It wasn't until he walked into the room and saw that Evan was sitting up with a pudding cup in hand that he finally felt okay again.

“Hi,” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing.

Evan smiled at him, setting the pudding cup on the tray table. “Hi yourself.”

Tommy didn't notice Maddie in the room. Didn't realize Eddie was there either. He simply walked over to Evan and sat beside him on the bed, cupping his face in his hands and leaning in for a kiss.

He tasted like chocolate pudding.

It was wonderful.

“We're, uh, we're gonna give you two a minute,” Maddie said, getting up from her chair. She and Eddie snuck out before Tommy pulled back from the kiss.

“I was so worried about you.” Tommy's eyes wandered over Evan's body. A fear that something else might be wrong. Something the doctors didn't notice while Evan was unconscious. “How are you feeling? I wanted to be here when you woke up but your sister made me leave.”

Evan took Tommy's hand in his, holding on tight. “I'm okay, Tommy. I promise. Maddie, um, she told me she had to basically force you out of here.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “She threatened to have me committed if I didn't go home.”

Evan lifted his free hand and ran it through Tommy's hair. “I've never seen you leave the house with your curls before.”

Tommy shrugged. “You're more important.”

Buck couldn't help the blush that rose on his cheeks. “I- I heard, um, from Eddie that you... you defended my honor at the scene.”

Tommy shook his head. “You don't need anyone to defend your honor, Evan. I did go a little crazy though.”

“But you won't lose your job, right?”

“Got two week's paid suspension, and I have to go to anger management, but I think Gerrard is the one at risk of losing it all. Apparently I had a lot of people backing me up. Him, not so much.”

Evan nodded. “Good. Now kiss me again.”

Tommy smiled, his face scrunching up tight as he leaned in for another kiss. It was more chaste than the last, but filled with just as much love.

“Can I tell you something?” Buck asked in a near whisper once they had parted.

“Of course.”

“When Eddie was telling me what you did, I- I...” He broke eye contact, pursing his lips as he fiddled with the sheet draped over his waist. “I thought it was really hot.”

Tommy's eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Tommy placed his fingers under Evan's chin, lifting his head until their eyes met. “I'm sure someone got it on video,” he said, eyes going dark. “Could probably get you a copy.”

Evan took a deep breath. He knew his heart rate monitor had to be going crazy right now. “I love you, Tommy,” he said, grabbing onto Tommy's shirt and dragging him in for another kiss.

Tommy stopped as his lips ghosted over Evan's. “I love you more.”

“You've gotta pick one for yourself now.”

“Oh God. Sarcastic.”

“Uh-uh. Won't accept it.”

“What?! You can't deny my word for me!”

“I can and I will. Say something positive.”

“Sarcastic can be positive. It won you over.”

“Tommy.”

They were quite for a moment, then Evan glanced up from his paper to see Tommy watching him closely.

“Why are you staring like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you're in love with me.”

“I am in love with you.”

“Ugh! Tommy, pick a word.”

“Okay, fine. Um, Protective. I'm very protective.”

[uglypastels]

omg what about Logan being like the softest with a sensitive/shy reader. Idk in what context like maybe she’s just overwhelmed with life and kinda closed off in terms of voicing what’s wrong and you know he’s usually very stoic but he’s the BIGGEST softy. Totally not projecting btw.

YEsss Logan is such a fucking softie, no matter how hard he'd want to try and hide it. thank you for being my first request for this fandom i hope i can do it some justice 🫶 and pleeease, we love to project here so please, go right ahead.

warnings: darkness. anxiety. loneliness. alcohol. fem!reader. reader's mutation specified. mentions of past [implied toxic] relationship. so some angst but also bunch of fluff at the end. also please don't come for me if he's a bit out of character. this is my first time writing Logan so it will be trial and error.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

It was the dead of the night. Quite literally. All around you was so quiet and dark that the rest of the world might as well have ceased to exist. All you heard was the floorboards creaking under your footsteps as slivers of moonlight illuminated your path through the corridors of the mansion. It was the rare instance that you felt at peace. 

Yes, you knew almost as soon as you stepped inside the large building and saw all these mutants walking around happily and carelessly that you had found a true safe haven, and yet, months later, you still had not found your bearings. It did not help that you were not exactly in the age bracket of most of the residents here. Having the mansion double as a school meant most of the mutants were in that school-going age range, and while they were lovely (for the most part), you had no desire to befriend children. Then, those who you felt more drawn to socially, like Storm or Jean, were all apart of that special ops team, which always left them busy, if not completely absent, while away on missions. 

Thus, most of your days went by in solitude. Something you had gotten used to throughout your life. Over the years it had become natural for you to simply disappear into your surroundings. Wether you wanted to or not, people simply overlooked you. In hindsight, it explained your mutation perfectly… or was that just an aftereffect of it? You had always wondered if it was one’s personality that influenced the mutation or the other way around.

Either way, for you, it all merged into one dark abyss. 

By now, you had gotten a hang of all the floor plans of the giant building, especially the route between your room and the kitchens. 

You hadn’t checked the clock when you got out of bed, but it must have been around 2 am, if not later. You didn’t expect anyone to be up at this ungodly hour. Especially not walking out of the dark kitchen exactly as you were coming through the threshold. The two of you bump, chest to chest, and the contact immediately made you burst out in a high-pitched scream. From the other side of the impact, you heard a muffled grunt and the sound of a blade being pulled. That was enough for your flight or fight mode to activate. You almost choked on the deep breath you took. The blade swung in your direction, but it only slashed the air where you once stood. 

‘Who’s there?’ it was a male voice. Hard and deep, almost wild. In your other form, your eyes adapted much better to the dark, and so you could see him looking around himself wildly. You counted the sharp appendages in his hands— no, they were coming out of his arms— six long claw-like blades ready to impale the very first thing that’d move. 

There was no doubt about it that this must have been the infamous Logan everyone around the mansion talked about. From what you had heard, he had been away for almost a year on some top-secret assignment for the Professor, but now he had apparently returned.

And what a comeback he has made, nearly stabbing you in the hallway.

‘Who’s there?’ he repeated his question louder, still looking around.

‘Just me.’ Your voice came out as the exact opposite of his, soft and weak, and you immediately regretted your words. Just me, as if he was supposed to know what that meant.

But it must have done the trick, as Logan retracted his claws. His shoulders visibly slacked at the lack of imminent danger.

‘Well, Me, you can come out of hiding. I’m not gonna hurt ya,’ he grumbled, ‘let me just turn the light on–’ 

‘Wait!’ You squeezed your eyes shut and let the cool air of the night brush over your bare arms. When you opened them again, all you could see was Logan’s large frame standing inside the kitchen, most likely hovering over the light switch, surprised at your sudden call.

‘Sorry, you can uhm– turn the lights on now.’ And like that, with a quiet flick, the kitchen illuminated with a soft orange glow. 

Logan’s eyes were immediately on you, scanning you up and down for any sign of recognition, but you already knew there would be none. Even if he had ever seen you before, there never was.

‘Do I know you?’ he cocked his head with the question, and all you could do was shake your head. 

‘I doubt it.’ No one knew you, but that didn’t feel like a smart response.

‘Care to introduce yourself, Bub?’ He leaned against the wall with the light switch, and maybe it was his overall greatness as he practically towered over you, but you felt a rush of heat fall over your face as he looked down at you in expectance. Awkwardly, you pushed out the sounds that formed your name, with a bonus of an extended hand for him to shake. 

‘And you must be Logan, right?’

He confirmed your suspicion with a grunt as he took your hand, squeezed firmly, but not painfully, and shook it once. Then, silence fell between you. 

Two strangers who met in a complete, nearly fatal accident. It was only to be expected you would have nothing to say to one another. But you were, after all both awake this late in the night, and that was enough to compel you to talk. 

‘Couldn’t sleep?’

‘Just got back, actually.’ His eyes glanced to your side and that is when you noticed the duffel bag that lay in the corridor. Then, only when you looked back at him did you take in what he was wearing. Not the expected gym shorts or sweatpants with an old shirt. Instead, Logan was dressed in a black button-up under a dark motorcycle jacket. With that, he had a boot cut-jeans and the boots to match. From the tiny dark dotted pattern on his shoulders and the light pitter-pattering that was occurring outside, it was visible he had just come from out of the rain. 

Immediately, a parade of questions entered your mind. Where had he been? Why did he come back so late? What was he doing in the kitchen? And so much more, though none of it would leave your mouth as you doubted he would talk to you about his secret mission. 

‘You alright?’ His brows furrowed as he looked down at you, and you realised how you must have looked. Staring up at him with wide eyes, not saying a single thing. Another heat flare hit your cheeks.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

He cocked his head in an examinatory fashion. The disbelief evident in his eyes. 

‘You’re new here, aren’t you?’

‘Relatively,’ you shrugged. ‘Got here a few months ago.’

‘Parents kicked you out?’ He assumed the most common backstory that comes with the residents of the mansion.

‘Not exactly,’ you kept your response short. After all, you could hardly tell a stranger you just met that your boyfriend had kicked you out of your shared apartment when he found out about your genetic abnormality. You had never been sure how he would have reacted, but the events that unfolded were even beyond your imagination. But the past was the past, and you didn’t want to dwell on it. The important part was that not a day after this conversation, you were crying in your car with nowhere to go. It was by chance that weeks after your break-up/eviction, you stumbled into some other mutants who told you about the Professor. You weren’t too sure about going to seek shelter at a school of all places, but in reality, the Academy was much more than that. Though it did give you the perfect opportunity to safely train your abilities.

That and so much more was what went through your head, but you didn’t say any of that to Logan. Why would you? He didn’t know you. He didn’t care about your problems, and you didn’t blame him for it. 

On the contrary, you appreciated that he didn’t press you for more details. When you answered the way you did, he simply nodded in understanding and made his way over to the fridge. The blue glow illuminated his tense features. Strange, for a man who had been a year on the go on some secret spy adventure, you would have expected him to return at least a bit beaten up. But besides maybe some signs of a bad sleep schedule, no form of strain was visible on his face.

‘You want something?’ he looked over at you, making you realise you had been, in fact, staring and not very subtly either. 

‘I’m good, thanks.’ 

‘Suit yourself,’ he went back to inspecting the contents of the fridge before sighing with disappointment. ‘They still don’t have anything stronger around here?’

‘Oh, if you’re looking for beer–’ you walked over to a cabinet at the other end of the kitchen. You tapped a corner, and a small code pad appeared. You tapped in the code, and the cabinet opened to reveal a fully stocked mini-bar. ‘Scott had it installed over the summer,’ you explained when you saw Logan’s confused expression.

‘Explains the babyproofing.’ He walked over, and you handed him a cool bottle of beer.

‘Well, it is a school after all.’ You held in a smile as the thought occurred to you that the kids might not have been the only ones who weren’t supposed to know about the secret compartment. The rivalry between Cyclops and the Wolverine was known all too well around the whole campus, even for newcomers such as yourself.

Logan smirked, taking his beer. You were about to offer a bottle opener, but he hit the neck of the bottle against the edge of the table and with a pop and a clink, the cap came right off. 

‘Here,’ he exchanged your bottles, giving you the open one. You watched him repeat his actions with the second drink. Your eyes were still on him as he chugged down half of the beer in one go. He probably could have downed the whole thing if it wasn’t for his look down at you, most likely noticing your entranced look.

‘That staring a part of your powers, too, then?’ he commented, and the acknowledgement immediately made you turn your head in the direction of the window.

‘Sorry. I just— I tend to do that, I guess.’ You wrinkled your nose. Being on your own around so many people, you had gotten used to people watching, observing them from a distance like a show on TV that you kept on for the background noise.

‘What do you do, anyway?’ He asked bluntly, ‘I thought I had done you in good back there.’

‘You would have,’ you chuckled, remembering just how close his claws had come into contact with you. ‘It’s hard to explain. I just kind of—’ You noticed the shadow that fell over the floor from the table and lightly grazed it with the tip of your toe. With a deep breath, the world in front of you changed. Except the exact opposite was the truth. ‘Disappear.’ You finished the sentence, punctuated by your new state.

Logan’s eyes widened as you disappeared in front of his eyes. Where the shock came from, he couldn’t explain. He had encountered these sorts of mutants before. But this felt different than regular invisibility or teleportation. With his heightened senses, he could always detect those sorts of hijinks. No one ever disappeared to him. But you— as soon as you had faded away, it was as if you had completely fallen off the face of the earth. Not a single trace of you lingered behind. When you spoke, just as you had in the hallway, your voice didn’t seem to be coming from one place. It was all around him, almost like a whisper, a voice inside his own head.

With a blink of an eye, you reappeared before him. Just as you had stood there moments before.

‘There’s not really a name for this, I think; at least no one around here could come up with anything that made sense.’ Not that you had any conversations that made people interested enough to do the research. ‘But from my own understanding, I kind of become one with the shadows.’

‘And what about the light?’ he recalled your yelp when he had tried to turn on the light.

‘I merge with the dark, and so when new light sources interfere… it’s not pretty.’

Logan simply nodded as he took the last swig of his beer.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, you leaning against the counter and he against the large table. 

‘You’re doing it again, Bub.’ He smirked, calling out your lost stare. 

‘Sorry,’ you hadn’t even realised you were doing it. You had just been looking around the room and may have, perhaps, accidentally lingered a look at his frame for a few seconds. And then you caught sight of his hands. More specifically, his knuckles. There was a faint pink glow on the skin, but besides that, you would never be able to tell that deadly claws could grow out from there. You blinked. ‘Sorry.’ You were doing it again. Quickly, you drank the rest of your beer. The bitter taste lingered in your throat, suffocating the burning questions that you wanted to ask.

‘Spill it out.’ He hit you by surprise with the command.

‘Uh–what?’

You knew there were plenty of mindreaders around, but you had not thought it was one of Logan’s abilities. ‘How did you–’

‘It’s all in your face, sweetheart. You think just ‘cause you’re quiet, you’re hard to read, don’t you.’ His assumption left you a bit stunned. It wasn’t that you had thought exactly that, but more so that you never considered that you were making any expressions that were that easy to interpret, as you never really had anyone pay that much attention to you to point it out.

 ‘If you want to say something, just say it.’ Logan said the corner of his lips lifted in a small smile. ‘If you’re wondering if it hurts,’ he looked down at his knuckles, ‘it hurts just as any other one-foot-long knife cutting through skin.’

‘That’s awful.’ You gasped, considering what it must be like to have such a mutation that inadvertently harmed you any time you used it.

‘You get used to it after a while.’ 

Another round of silence. This time, the longer it went on, the more you started thinking how you must be inconveniencing him. With the beers drank, there was little for you both to still be doing here, but also didn’t want to be rude by just up and leaving. After all, you didn’t know Logan very well. 

‘You sure you’re alright?’ He asked, coming out from behind the table.

‘Yeah.’ You tried to smile but could tell it probably did not reach your eyes. Logan moved with a sense of apprehension, unsure of how to approach you. Being a year on the road, not to mention the years of solitude before he had joined the Professor’s team, had not exactly prepared him for these kinds of situations. He didn’t know the right things to do or to say. But to you, just his presence was enough. Just him being there, talking, or in this case, just seeing you, was more than you could have asked for. ‘I’m good.’ 

And yet, ironically, though you had actually meant it for once, you really did feel alright, but something about the situation caused tears to prickle in the corners of your eyes. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation that made you overly sensitive. Or the alcohol. 

You blinked the tears away and smiled awkwardly. ‘It’s just been a long day.’ or week. Month. Year. How about your entire life?

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ There was that quirk in his lip again, that ghost of a smile. And you couldn’t figure out if his response was just a sarcastic quip, understandably referring to his past days, which you were sure did not consist of a walk in the park. Or did he actually mean it, and he did want you to tell him more? Well, your moment of contemplation brought on another wave of silence, and the heavier it fell, the worse you felt to go back to your problems.

The sudden sound of footsteps pulled you back into your world. People must be slowly waking up; meanwhile, you hadn’t had an hour of sleep yet, and the effect of that started to hit.

‘I should— should probably go.’ You muttered, taking small steps in the direction of the door.

‘Well, the offer always stands.’ Logan followed you with his eyes, turning in his spot as you passed by him. See you around, Nightshade.’

‘What?’ the nickname caught you off-guard, stopping you in your tracks. 

‘Sorry,’ Logan winced, ‘I don’t know—’ that’s what he gets for trying to be cute. 

‘No, don’t apologise. I like it.’ Your smile finally found its full form. A “thank you” almost slipped past it, but you held yourself back. It felt too cheesy to get all sentimental about something as silly as a nickname. Especially since he didn’t know what it meant for you. He didn’t need to know didn’t think you’d ever belong amongst these people enough to get a moniker. 

And maybe it didn’t mean anything at all, maybe he had just said it as a mindless comment on your powers. Or maybe not. Maybe he had really tried hard to put that smile on your face. 

You would never know.

Unless you took that one small step. Because, of course, all you had to do was ask, just like he had told you, but maybe another time. For now, you just bid him farewell, hoping for that next opportunity to certainly come sooner than later.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[st7rnioioss]

˚࿔ HANDYMAN!CHRIS x NEIGHBOR!READER introduction◞ ۶ৎ

HANDYMAN!CHRIS ... who is a bit flimsy and sleazy. sure, he’s a handyman, so his job is literally to repair and restore, so he often gets a little dirt on his hands. he has a hard shell, but once you’ve knocked through that, he’s a complete softie.

HANDYMAN!CHRIS ... who has his own little business. it’s not super huge, but he drives around town to fix broken sinks and showers, help people with broken down cars since he’s got some experience with being a mechanic, and broken pipes and loose tires. he’s a bit of an everything-man, but he knows exactly what he’s putting his hands on. he’s amazing at what he does, and that’s why the business is still up and running—plus his charming smile.

HANDYMAN!CHRIS ... who, speaking of charming, is a little skirt chaser. he currently doesn’t have a girlfriend, but he’d never turn down a hookup… though he’s not very active currently. his business has grown busy, but the town loves him, especially the older ladies down the street.

HANDYMAN!CHRIS ... who first met neighbor!reader in the laundry room in the basement of their apartment building. he had just moved in next to her and hadn’t gotten to say a proper hello—until he saw her. she quipped a small ‘hi’, and when the small talk evolved, they realized they were neighbors. and wow, was he lucky. he’s stunned, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and he gets to live next to you?

HANDYMAN!CHRIS ... who quickly adapted to the days you’d be in the laundry room. he “coincidentally” had dirty clothes the same day, which was just an excuse to talk to you while waiting for the laundry. one time, he took a snoop at the panties in your laundry basket, making sure to sneakily slip them into his old carhartt pants when you weren’t looking.

۶ৎ NEIGHBOR!READER ... who also has a hard shell. she’s not necessarily mean or rude, but it takes a little to get to know her. she’s not the type of girl to spill all her secrets after hanging out once or twice… but when she meets chris? she’s sure she wants to tell him her whole life story from the start, every single secret, every single fact about herself, her hidden talents, her birthmarks, everything.

۶ৎ NEIGHBOR!READER ... who is an absolute sweetheart to everyone once she gets to know them. example: every single tuesday, she helps the elderly woman on the second floor down to the basement with her laundry, while they chitchat about the recent gossip in the building and neighbor!readers studies. she’s so grateful and blessed to have people around her she loves, and is never too shy to offer a helping hand.

۶ৎ NEIGHBOR!READER ... who was literally giving chris heart eyes the first time she saw him. she loved the edge he had, the gruff stubble on his jaw, carpenter jeans, the keys in his belt loop. she was immediately wondering why they hadn’t seen each other before, and why she wasn’t latching onto him right now. she said a quick ‘hi’, watching him adjust the backward sitting cap, before averting her attention back to the washing machine.

۶ৎ NEIGHBOR!READER ... who actually noticed when chris snooped her underwear. she wasn’t stupid, no, not at all. she saw the lace peek out of his pocket when he turned to say goodbye, and she recounted her underwear when she got back inside her apartment. she just couldn’t wait to return the action differently.

۶ৎ NEIGHBOR!READER ... who’s got a little balcony where she’s looking over at chris, sometimes from the inside, sometimes outside. they’re facing the same road and could climb over to the other if they wanted. one night, she saw him sitting out there, marlboro pack on the tiny table he’s treated himself with, enjoying the view. she immediately climbed out there, acting all nonchalantly and as if she didn’t see him, purposely sitting so she was facing him, snooping over the book she was.. “reading”. and chris? oh, chris was enjoying the way she was too focused on him to notice the way her skimpy night shorts had ridden up her legs.

MASTERLIST

۶ৎ neighbor!reader getting back at handyman!chris after he stole her underwear 𓂃 ֹ genre,,fluff

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

HI SWEETIE I HAVE A REQUEST!! i hope you dont mind!

so, bucky and f!reader, maybe married and they have a baby together. after that time of recovery reader is a bit shy of her own body cause it's been a while since they did it and she isnt back at her pre-pregnancy weight and bucky is absolutely like mind blown by her beauty? like, nearly drooling? and please can you add body worship on this?

i seriously hope it's okay for you, but if it's not please ignore this!

HII BBY!! I love love love it. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

DEFLECTION.

​bucky barnes x fem!reader (married & parents) — comfort

word count. 1031

disclaimer. the hair colour and type has no significance to the writing. the gif just suits the theme of this fic. also please read the ask carefully

Only a few short months ago, you gave birth to a healthy baby girl - a daughter you shared with your husband, Bucky. Very quickly she became the sole focus of your attention, neither of you having much time to do anything like you used to. 

Consequently, your sex life had taken a hit, and not because of the significant decrease in quality time, but instead something far more complex.

So far, motherhood has been a slight struggle to adjust to - the differences in your life between then and now are almost stark. You've been trying to adapt to all the changes that come with it, the main being your new body. You've been feeling shy and insecure with your new shape, often feeling like the weight will never drop off to what you looked like before.

It was hard to digest the change.

You were in the bathroom to freshen up, your eyes looking back at you in the mirror almost pitifully - your gaze travelling down, honing in on your stomach through your once baggy tee.

"They're here," Bucky calls from the other room, his voice putting a hold on the thoughts in your mind.

You step out of the bathroom, meeting your husband and daughter by the front door, a pink baby bag slung over his shoulder.

He notices the downcast direction of your eyes, seeing the way you tried to pull away from his attention. "Everything okay?" he asks you, rocking his little girl in his arms, bouncing her when she makes a noise.

You hum, walking closer to say goodbye to your baby - running a finger over her soft cheek. 

He doesn't believe you, though he waits for it to be just the two of you before he can question it. He doesn't want to create a situation before your parents arrive to pick up your daughter. They offered to have her for a few hours to give you both some respite.

The second the door closes, and it's just the two of you again, he turns to look at you - his brows curled up inquisitively.

"Now, what's really going on?" he asks, referring to all those times you shut yourself off from him - primarily that one a few minutes ago.

You turn away, heading to the kitchen to get a drink. "Going on with what?" you deflect, trying to avoid the topic.

He follows you, standing behind you at the sink - his arms wrapping around your middle, chin resting over your shoulder. 

But he's too close to where you don't want him, so you flinch at his touch, moving his hands away from your tummy and stretching the hem of your top - pulling on the fabric.

Bucky rips his hands from you, your avoidance of his touch making things whirl in his mind. "You don't like that anymore?" he asks, stepping aside to face the side of you.

"I do... just— just not right now," you reply, taking a quick sip of water before moving across the kitchen - heading towards the fridge. "Tired, feel gross," you shrug, trying to ease the tension you accidentally created. 

"That's not it," he softly shakes his head, eyes focused on you even though every glance goes unreciprocated. "It's something else."

"Just need a nap and shower," you partially lie, pulling out two apples, handing him one.

He doesn't accept your attempt at deflection, instead turning it down. "No, it's something else," he continues, his eyes glued to the side of your face. "And you're afraid of saying it."

"I'm not," you softly protest, voice quiet.

"So it is something else," he mutters, the unknown confession of you making things easier for him, harder for you.

You're cornered. You sigh and nod faintly, closing the door of the fridge. 

"What is it? Please talk to me," he reaches for your hand, fingers wrapping themselves around yours. "It's just the two of us, no distractions... what's been going on?"

"It's hard to get used to," you start, pausing to think of what to say next.

"What is? Being a mom?" he asks, noticing your focused gaze on the baby stuff on the counter. 

You nod, pausing once more. "Not just that," you exhale, shrugging. "Everything's changed."

"With us?" he asks, hand tightening in yours. 

"With me," you correct, looking down at your hand in his. "I've changed, and I'm not used to it... I don't like it."

"How have you changed?" he questions, trying to prompt more answers from you. 

"My body has," you softly reply, trying not to squirm at your confession. "My boobs, tummy, my hair. The weight is taking longer to come off than I thought, and I feel— I feel like a..." you go quiet, not wanting to finish your sentence.

However, Bucky's not done coaxing words from you. His face softens when you finally meet his gaze, his features inviting and knowing. "Feel like a what?" he whispers.

"I don't know," you shrug again.

"'You are not your thoughts'," he says, reciting those words you've said to him countless times after his nightmares. Though now he's repurposing them to someone else who needs them, you. "I repeat that saying in my head all the time. Do you know who taught me that?" he asks, his gaze honing in on you - trying to stop you from looking away.

"Me," you whisper. 

"That's right," he nods, bringing his spare hand to cup your cheek. "You need to use that same kindness to yourself. And right now," he starts, pressing a kiss into your lips. "You have never looked more beautiful to me."

You softly frown, the rest of your features relaxing.

"Your body gave us a daughter," he smiles. "You made her. You may or may not get your ‘old body back.’ But the one you have now is perfect too.”

"Thank you," your voice cracks, the sweet words of your lover soothing all the doubts in your mind. You envelop him in an embrace, arms hugging around him in the ways you've recently longed for. "I mean it."

His arms wrap around you just as tight, one hand running up your spine. "So do I.”

[your-nanas-house]

Cillian murphy x fem!reader

The reader's aunt is going to a honeymoon with her husband for two weeks, so she leaves her 10 months old baby with her niece and her boyfriend cillian

And cillian is INLOVE with that baby, and he keeps saying he wishes he could give you one until he tries to

Fluff and smut plss🥹

Sure thing!!! Sorry it took me so long 😭 very unique idea btw. 🙇🏼‍��️

Baby fever

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X girlfriend/fiancè!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut (Cillian cums too fast), mention of pregnancy and baby fever, babysitting, both off age, fluff

◇ Summary: You and Cillian babysit your baby cousin and your amazing boyfriend gets baby fever.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing... sorry about that, I'm still trying to "get my mind back in the writing".

"I really wish for us to have one too" the so unexpected and sudden sentence left Cillian's lips a quiet evening.

You've been busy taking care of your cousin, since your so kind aunt left you to babysit him during her honeymoon. A baby, a 10 months and some weeks old baby, dropped in your care at your door with some begging and thanking.

It has been just some weeks since your not-paid job began, and ignoring the first days of struggling, you and your boyfriend, Cillian, took the new routine strangely well. Adapting well to the new schedules and cries and needs that a baby could have.

A few days and you both were smitten; that baby had you really wrapped around his little, chubby finger.... and he didn't even know it yet. Everything about babysitting made you wish for it to never end, even the random tantrums or the diaper moments.

You had been sitting on the sofa, your baby cousin asleep in his crib in the other room as you cuddled with Cillian. The TV off. You had been just enjoying your small moment of silence and intimacy when that sentence slipped from his lips:

"I really wish for us to have one too" your mind froze, slowly taking in every since word your boyfriend just said.

"I don't wanna rush things or put any pressure on you, love... but we've been together since years now and this weeks with your baby cousin made me realize how ready I am to take... any further steps in our relationship" he continued after a moment of silence, you could tell he was pondering about it carefully by the way his gaze remained focused on a spot and his eyebrows slightly raised

"Plus I might have what they call baby fever" he added in a weaker tone to lighten up the mood... and it worked. You didn't let him add anything else not wanting him to think you weren't on his same page

"I think so too... I mean we are about to get married and I just love you so much. Plus we don't know if it will work right away" you commented in a shy but earger voice, glancing at him as if it was your first time having sex... asking for it.

"Yeah?" Cillian asked after your answer, his light blue eyes finally looking at you with hope and love, making your heart skip a beat

"Yeah" you replied in a softer tone, taking his face in your hands to bring him in a needy kiss.

Soft noises of approval kept living your mouth as his soft lips trailed a path down your neck to your chest; his warm tongue draw shapes on your skin while his slender fingers in quick motions, finally, removed the layers of clothes.

"I love you" your eyes met as you caressed Cillian's pale and flushed skin up to his messy hair as soon as your kiss broke. Your breaths became one and your chests moved together, brushing against each other.

His cock was already painfully hard, resting against his stomach and leaking precum; it just needed a couple of strokes, and it got fully ready. His other hand worked your clit, his index finger explored your cunt, adding in no time another finger

"Yes, yes!" You whimpered out, your body shaking in pure pleasure.

The intimacy of the moment made it feel even more intense, forcing you to hold back moans, limiting them to heavy breaths and soft praises.

It felt so right and so good. You hoped it would never end.

Your mouth connected again, sharing the same passion; your hearts nearly beating in sync. You just needed one more thing.... his cock finally inside of you, stretching you out like only Cillian could do and bring you to feel— not exactly what you expected.

As your mind focused and dreamed about the imminent pleasure, it didn't register the warm feeling of his cum shooting in. It was just when his cock started to soften that you finally realized

"I'm so sorry, love. I was bit too excited—" Cillian voice interrupted the silence, his pale face flushed in embarrassment and bit of shame

".... I make it up to you" he added quickly while already trying to move down your body to finish you off with his tongue, but without succeeding since your legs had his hips caged in a iron grip

"Don't you dare move, Cilly. Stay inside... We can always try tomorrow and you can make it up then"

[cherrrydragon]

➤ the art of stealing (a heart)

← back to main masterlist

read it on ao3

SUMMARY ↳ As a thief, you've always been attracted to shiny things. There’s a glow that catches your eye. It’s almost enchanting, designed to catch your eye and reel you in. Sidon. He’s glowing. The spots that adorn his crest and his blue and yellow fins, are glowing, bioluminescent. “Have–” you stutter, completely enraptured by the sight of him. “Have you always… glowed?” pairing: sidon x fem!reader warnings: almost smut but nada tags/notes: hylian!reader, courtship rituals, eventual romance, based on the hc that zora's are bioluminescent/this tumblr post wc: 7.9k - "cherry stop yapping so damn much" challenge (i never plan such long fics but i keep getting carried away help)

Perhaps you are in over your head.

You wouldn’t say you were a rotten individual, not at all. You don’t do the things you do for mere pleasure… well, most of the time. Even when it is, you steal from people who don’t need it.

Like Prince Sidon of the Zora.

At first it was for necessity. You learned early on that playing by the rules left you vulnerable. So, you adapted, honing your skills and leveraging your talents to carve out a niche where you could thrive. Your family needed stability, and you delivered. You are proud to say they are living quite comfortably now.

Now, however, it is more for the thrill. You like the challenge, find the risk of getting caught almost exhilarating. It’s not just the high stakes or the chase anymore; it’s the game itself that has become intoxicating. The thrill of evading capture, the adrenaline rush from outsmarting the authorities, it’s all a part of the allure now.

You find yourself standing in the grand hall of Zora's Domain, your heart racing as you look around. The opulence and splendor of the place draws you in like no other, with the intricate coral designs and delicate water sculptures. It’s a stark contrast to the more modest lifestyle you grew up in. But that’s part of the charm, isn’t it? Stealing from the rich, from those who hardly feel the loss, and bringing a little bit of that splendor back to your own life.

It’s been quite some time since you scratched that itch. You notice the glint of a finely crafted trident on display, its surface shimmering with a light that seems almost ethereal. That would fetch a high price from some more… degenerate folk, but more than that, it would be a trophy, a testament to your skills and daring. The thought makes your heart race faster, your fingers itching to reach out and claim it.

But you can’t afford to be reckless. The Zora guards are vigilant, their keen eyes always on the lookout for intruders. You need to be smart, to blend in and bide your time until the perfect moment presents itself.

As you move through the hall, you catch sight of Prince Sidon himself. He’s tall, imposing, and radiates an air of authority that’s hard to ignore. Yet, there’s a kindness in his eyes, a warmth that makes you hesitate for just a moment. You shake off the feeling. You can’t afford to get distracted now.

With a deep breath, you slip into the shadows, your mind focused on the task at hand. Every step is calculated, every movement precise. You’ve done this a hundred times before, and you know you can do it again.

As you make your way closer to the trident, you hear footsteps approaching. You press yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest. The guards pass by, oblivious to your presence. You let out a silent sigh of relief and continue on.

Finally, you’re there. The trident is within reach, its beauty almost mesmerizing. You reach out, your fingers just inches away when a voice stops you in your tracks.

“I would kindly ask that you don’t, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Your heart leaps into your throat as you turn to face the source of the voice. There, standing with an air of calm authority, is Prince Sidon. His presence is even more imposing up close, but it’s the gentle firmness in his eyes that truly holds you in place.

For a moment, you consider bolting, but something in his gaze makes you pause. It’s not anger or hostility; it’s understanding, maybe even compassion. “My prince,” you hum, a false air of calm masking the panic racing through your veins. “I assure you, I meant no harm. Simply admiring the craftsmanship of this exquisite piece.”

Prince Sidon raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced but not hostile. “Admiration does not typically involve reaching out to take something that doesn’t belong to you.”

You smile, a touch of charm in your expression. “You’re right, of course. Forgive me, it’s a terrible habit of mine, getting too close to things that catch my interest.” You take a careful step back, hands splayed to your sides. “I only wonder why the wealthy take to much care to display their prized jewels so much.”

Prince Sidon regards you with a mixture of curiosity and wariness, his sharp eyes never leaving yours. "The trident is not just a prized jewel," he says calmly. "It is a symbol of our heritage and a beacon of hope for the Zora people. It belonged… to my dear sister, Mipha.”

Ah, the champion of the Zora said to have fell in battle 100 years ago. “It belongs here, in Zora's Domain, where it can inspire and protect,” he declares.

Prince Sidon's words hang in the air, and you find yourself caught between the desire and understanding. The trident isn't just a valuable artifact; it's a piece of his heart, a remnant of his sister's legacy. For a moment, your resolve wavers, and you feel a pang of guilt.

“My apologies, my prince.” It is sincere.

Prince Sidon's expression softens slightly at your sincere apology, but his guard remains up. "I appreciate your understanding," he says. "However, I'm afraid I cannot overlook this incident."

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t exactly stay and chat about my transgressions,” you reply with a half-smile, trying to mask the anxiety in your voice. “I would hate for your hospitality to be marred by my presence.”

You’ve been inching closer and closer to the window ever since the handsome Zora entered the room. Prince Sidon's gaze follows you with a mix of concern and resolve. “You don’t need to make a hasty exit,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “I’m not here to pass judgment hastily. I only wish to understand your intentions and perhaps offer you a chance to explain yourself.”

You pause by the window, the moonlight casting a soft glow on your face. The cool night air filters in, a welcome contrast to the tense atmosphere inside. You weigh your options quickly. Run away, and face no consequence, or stay, and chat with the very attractive prince?

Yeah, you’ll take the first option.

“Sorry, hun, but I’m not one to stick around.” And with that, you allow yourself to fall out of the window and out of sight. Sidon races to the opening and looks over the edge, but you’re nowhere to be seen.

Here’s hoping to never seeing him again.

You stare at Link in barely concealed disbelief. “You want to see me suffer.”

“ Zelda wants to see you succeed,” Link corrects with a wry smile. His fingers move in tandem. You need to be a normal functioning member of society, and to do that you need to be civil and not steal things from people, he emphasizes with a pointed look.

“But I didn’t even steal it,” you whine, referring to the trident. Zelda knew just by looking at you that you had gotten up to no good, and refused to leave you alone until you confessed. You give Link a look of frustration, hoping that your silent plea might convince him to relent. But he’s unwavering, his gaze steady and expectant.

You huff, taking your pack and heaving it over your shoulder. As per Zelda’s request, you and Link will set out to Zora’s Domain, a little bit of royal business and a little bit of “community service” on your part.

As you approach the grand gates of Zora’s Domain, the grandeur of the place takes your breath away once more. It’s all so… shiny . And shiny things have always attracted you. The guards at the entrance recognize Link immediately and allow you both to pass without question. You feel a pang of discomfort as you cross the threshold.

“Link, my dear friend!” you hear, and you immediately recognize the voice. Shimmering red floods your vision as the very prince that’s plagued your thoughts approaches. His arms are out as he wears his grin well. “It’s good to see you!”

Link smiles and waves at him, but Sidon pays his bland greeting no mind and gives Link a generous hug, lifting him off the ground. You shift uncomfortably beside Link, trying to stay out of the way while Sidon’s exuberant greeting continues. The prince’s gaze shifts to you, and you almost laugh at the way his eyes widen.

You raise a hand. “Yo.”

“Link,” Sidon blinks, “ you… do know who you are with right now?”

You snort. “Nice to see you again.”

This is [Name], Link signs. She’s here per Zelda’s request.

You sigh and walk up to Sidon, patting his arm, feeling his muscle briefly. “I’m reformed,” you grin.

She helped me get back an heirloom of the Gerudo. Since then, most of her crimes have been pardoned, and she’s been working to give back to the community. Link explains as he’s finally let down, and the knight turns to you. And you were reformed, until you tried to steal again.

At first, you weren’t too keen on helping anyone but yourself and your family. Wasn’t your problem, but then you got thinking. The Lightning Helm is a precious heirloom to the Gerudo, and you’ve been inside Gerudo Town a couple of times (never to steal, those women scare you). Vain as it may be (it is) you requested that you receive a Radiant Shield in exchange for your help. That jeweled treasure now sits on your back.

Prince Sidon’s gaze remains fixed on you, a mixture of curiosity and cautious optimism in his eyes. His initial surprise seems to be giving way to a guarded interest. “You’re the one who returned the Lightning Helm?” Sidon’s tone reflects a hint of admiration now, though he’s still processing the situation. “That’s quite impressive.”

You shrug casually, trying to play off the compliment. “Just a matter of finding the right opportunity, and the right incentive,” you say, patting the Radiant Shield on your back. “And a little persuasion never hurt anyone.”

She’s very sorry for trying to steal the trident, Link signs.

“I’m very sorry for trying to steal the trident,” you nod, half in jest, half serious.

She’ll help in any way she can as atonement. You grumble under your breath at the notion, but you reap what you sow.

Sidon nods. “Very well. We’ve had some recent issues with a horde of Octoroks disrupting our fishing operations. It’s affecting our community, and we could use some help in investigating and addressing the situation.”

Zora’s Domain, as you’ve come to find out, is very humid. It’s almost stifling, a constant reminder of how different this place is from your usual haunts. The air is thick with moisture, clinging to your skin and making every movement feel just a bit heavier. Still, your complaints will not be appreciated, so you keep them to yourself as carry in large boxes of shipment in.

Your hands are already sore from carrying the heavy boxes, but you focus on the task at hand. You cringe at the dryness and blisters you’ll probably find in your hands later. The sun is setting over Zora’s Domain, casting an ethereal glow over the shimmering coral structures and tranquil waters. Every now and then, you catch glimpses of Prince Sidon overseeing things, ever the vigilant prince of his people.

Link waves for your attention. “You’re doing good,” he says softly. He’s been helping out alongside you, a silent partner in your atonement. It’s nice to know you’re not the only one in this.

“Just doing what I can,” you reply, wiping sweat from your brow. “I didn’t expect the humidity to be this intense, though. Feels like I’m swimming through the air.” You shudder at the sweat clinging to the back of your neck. “I feel gross.”

Zora’s Domain does have a way of making you feel like part of the water. You’ll get used to it, he nods sagely.

“Here’s hoping,” you mutter, struggling with another heavy box.

Later, when the sun has long passed the horizon, you’re making your way back to your quarters, a gleam catches your eye. You pause, squinting in the dim light, as you spot a glimmering object partially hidden among some rocks near the edge of the water. The way it catches the moonlight reminds you of a precious gem, and your curiosity gets the better of you.

As you get closer, you realize it’s an old, tarnished box. The once-bright metal is dulled by time and neglect. You kneel beside it, brushing away some dirt and algae. The box seems ancient, and the craftsmanship is intricate.

You carefully open the old box, the hinges creaking softly as you lift the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of faded velvet, lies an assortment of trinkets and curiosities. Among the items are a few old rings, a weathered journal, and a few delicate trinkets that might once have been quite valuable. The most intriguing piece, however, is a small, ornate pendant with a shimmering blue stone.

You carefully lift the pendant from its resting place, examining it in the moonlight. The blue stone catches the light in a mesmerizing way, almost like it has its own inner glow. It’s an exquisite piece, seemingly out of place among the other trinkets.

…Technically this isn’t stealing, is it? You just… found it. All on its lonesome by the shore. Of course it once belonged to someone, but these items are old, and probably long forgotten. You tug your lip between your teeth, pondering.

As you continue to examine the pendant, a voice startles you. “Found something interesting, I see?”

You glance up to see Prince Sidon standing a few paces away, his imposing figure softened by the moonlight. His tone is light, almost playful, but there’s a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

You glance back and forth between him and the box in your hands, noticing the way he eyes it too. “Believe it not, I really did just find this on the shore.” You hold out the items. “See? They’re all old. They’ve probably been moving in the waters for a long time.”

Prince Sidon steps closer, his gaze fixed on the box and its contents. His curiosity is evident, but there's also a hint of skepticism. "You have a knack for finding interesting things, it seems," he remarks, his eyes lingering on the pendant. "That piece is quite beautiful."

Sidon’s eyes narrow slightly as he inspects the pendant more closely. “The design… it’s familiar,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “This pendant resembles some ancient Zora craftsmanship, though it’s not one I recognize immediately. It could be a relic of our past.”

You frown, suddenly aware of the gravity of what you’ve found. “Really?” Does that mean you have to give it back? Bummer. “Ancient as in, long ago even for a Zora, right?”

Sidon gently takes the pendant from your hands, examining the gem held in it. Prince Sidon holds the pendant up to the moonlight, the stone casting a soft blue glow. His expression shifts from curiosity to one of deep contemplation. He nods, humming, “Yes, quite. This design is more on the simpler side of things.”

“So, I can’t keep it?” you can’t help but ask.

Sidon averts his gaze to you as you poutily finger through the rest of the box. Your eyebrows raise as you spot something. “Oh, hang on.” You hold up a ring, its engraving similar to that of the pendant. “I think this is a matching ring, or something? It’s got the same gem and everything.”

Prince Sidon’s gaze shifts from the pendant to the ring in your hand, his eyes widening slightly. His own comes up to gently grasp yours, turning it this way and that study the ring. “Yes, that does seem to match,” he says, taking a closer look.

Your brain stops working at his proximity, but you shake your head and focus. “How about this? I trade you the ring for this–” you grab the pendant from his hands, replacing it with the ring, “–your guys study that, and I get to keep this.” You’re already clasping the pendant around your neck. “Sound fair?”

Prince Sidon’s gaze lingers on the ring you offer, and then shifts to the pendant now clasped around your neck. He examines your proposal with a thoughtful expression, clearly weighing the offer.

“They’re obviously from the same set, right? Everything you can figure out from the pendant you can figure out from the ring.” You're mostly talking out of your ass, but that’s your specialty. You sigh at his hesitancy. “If it comes down to it, I’ll give it back. But unless this thing is going in a museum I want it back!”

Prince Sidon’s gaze remains thoughtful as he considers your proposal. The moonlight reflects off the pendant around your neck, casting a soft glow that seems to enhance the item’s allure. His pupils seem to dilate as he gazes upon it. The moment feels tense, and you can almost see the gears turning in his mind.

“You make a convincing argument,” he hums.

“I have a way with words. I kind of have to.”

Prince Sidon’s lips curl into a slight smile. “Very well. I’ll accept your proposal.”

You grin. “It’s been a pleasure, my prince.” You hand Sidon the box with the rest of the trinkets in it, not having any interest for it, and head back to your room to catch some rest. As you walk back to your quarters, the pendant feels warm against your chest, a reminder of your little victory.

The following days blur together in a routine of hard work and moments of unexpected community. The Zora people, initially wary of you, gradually warm up as they see your efforts to help. Your tasks vary, from assisting in the market to helping with maintenance and repairs around the Domain. You learn a great deal about Zora culture, their history, and their ways of life.

Many of the female Zora compliment your new accessory. They marvel at its beauty and craftsmanship, asking where you got it from. You just shrug and tell them you found it one day.

After a particularly sweaty day of work, you find yourself relaxing in one of the many pools around the Domain. The cool water soothes your skin. You sigh and lean your head back, closing your eyes in relaxation. the sound of gently flowing water surrounds you, creating a tranquil atmosphere.

The tranquility of the moment is interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. You lazily open one eye to see Prince Sidon walking towards you, a neutral expression on his face. “I hope you’re finding the Domain to your liking,” he says, his tone light and conversational.

“It’s definitely grown on me,” you reply, not bothering to move from your relaxed position. “The humidity is still a pain, though.”

He hums, coming to sit next to you. His eyes find the pendant, staring at the way it dips between your breasts. “Our historians have… theories. On the meaning of the ring.” You can’t help but feel a bit self-conscious under his scrutiny. You shift slightly, adjusting the pendant, noticing the way his eyes follow the movement.

You raise a brow. “Do tell.”

His hand slowly reaches out, gently taking the gem between his fingers. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he examines the pendant. His pupils dilate again.

“Nothing important. Just some personal jewelry,” he says after a moment. You’re not quite sure you believe him, but you decide not to press the issue. 

“Then there’s no need to put it on display, huh?” you chuckle. “Good for me, then.” There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, a mixture of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place.

Prince Sidon’s expression softens as he releases the pendant, his hand lingering for just a moment before pulling away. “Yes, good for you.” His voice is low, almost a whisper.

You clear your throat, breaking the tension. “So, what’s next on the agenda? More heavy lifting, or do I get a break?” You smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Sidon chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think you’ve earned a break. But if you’re looking for something to do, there’s always more to explore in Zora’s Domain. Perhaps you’d like a tour? There are parts of the Domain most visitors don’t get to see.” He seems almost hopeful, eyes eager.

A tour sounds intriguing, and you find yourself nodding before you can think it through. “Sure, why not? Lead the way, Prince Sidon.”

He stands, offering you a hand with a grin. You take it, feeling a jolt of electricity at the contact. As he guides you through the Domain, you’re struck by the beauty and intricacy of the place. Sidon shares stories and histories, his voice warm and engaging. You can’t help but be drawn to him, his presence calming and reassuring.

As the tour progresses, you find yourself in a secluded area of the Domain, a quiet garden with a small, tranquil pool. Sidon stops, turning to face you. “This is one of my favorite places,” he admits, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the water. “It’s a place of peace and reflection.”

You take in the serene beauty of the secluded garden, the gentle ripples of the small pool creating a calming effect. The lush greenery and the subtle glow of bioluminescent plants cast an enchanting light over the area, making it feel like a hidden oasis.

“This is beautiful,” you say, genuinely impressed. “I can see why it’s one of your favorite spots. It sure might be mine.”

Sidon’s eyes light up with a hint of pride. “Then you may come here as much as you’d like.”

With a little bit of teaching from Link, you think you’ve gotten the hang of fishing.

Link, the chaotic mess, prefers leaping and snatching them up with his hands, but you don’t, so he showed you how to carve small spears to throw at them. They work just fine, and you can do less work.

You’ve already acquired a good haul, but you still have some spears left, so a couple more won’t hurt. You’re crouched near the water’s edge, eyes focused on the shimmering surface as you try to spot any movement that might indicate the presence of fish. The evening sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the water. The tranquility of the moment is a stark contrast to the bustling energy of the Domain during the day.

That peace is broken by a giant figure leaping out of the water in front of you.

You gasp, grip tightening on your spears to jab it into the creature, but a firm hand stops you. Your hand is gently held as you stare into familiar golden eyes.

Your jaw falls open. “Sidon?”

He looks just as shocked as you, eyes flipping between yours and your tightly held spear. It is then you remember yourself, and drop it. “By the Goddess, Sidon, you scared the shit outta me!” you admonish. “What are you even doing?”

Sidon still holds your hand in his, failing to find the right words. “I–... I sincerely apologize for scaring you. It was not my intention.” He looks a little sad at the thought of scaring you, and you kind of feel bad.

“Aw, it’s okay big guy,” you coo, other hand coming up to pat his crest. Sidon’s head pushes up against it. “Seriously though, what are you doing here? I don’t imagine Zora’s swim in the same waters as their prey.”

Sidon’s expression softens as you pat his crest, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. He releases your hand slowly, the warmth of his touch lingering. “I was… fishing.”

You blink. “Really? Me too.”

Sidon blinks up at you, so you gesture to the basket of fish to the side. “I was catching some for others too. Y’know, being a helpful and normal person.”

“I see,” rumbles Sidon. He looks back at you, eyes roaming up and down. “You are a good provider.”

You shrug. Sidon continues on, voice lighter and imploring for your attention. “I, too, am a good provider.”

“I’m sure you are, you’re a prince after all,” you smile kindly.

“I will prove it to you.”

You wave your hands. “I already believe you–”

Sidon sinks back into the water, cutting you off. You huff and rest your head on your hand, content to watch him. You’ve seen Sidon and other Zora swim before. They are all graceful and artistic in their ways, but Sidon… seems to be extra showy today. He performs flips and turns, all seeming to be part of a grand dance.

You can’t help but be mesmerized by Sidon’s performance in the water. His movements are fluid and powerful, a testament to his strength and agility. As he dives and twists, the setting sun’s light catches on the droplets of water, creating a sparkling effect that only enhances the beauty of his display.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sidon surfaces, holding a large fish in his hands. He swims over to you, a triumphant smile on his face. “Is it to your satisfaction?”

Your laughter bubbles up before you can stop it, echoing across the water. "Very impressive, Sidon. It’ll be a good meal.”

Sidon beams at your praise, his smile wide and genuine. He places the fish in your basket, the catch even more impressive than any you’ve seen today. “I am glad to have impressed you,” he says, his tone warm and sincere.

You pick up the basket and make your way back to the Domain, Sidon on your heels. You look back at him. “I already think highly of you, Sidon. You didn’t need to do that.” When did he become just Sidon?”

Sidon’s pupils go big. “I am content to prove myself to you, my dear.” When did you become “my dear”?

The two of you make your way back to the Domain, the golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over the water and the surrounding landscape. Sidon seems to be lost in thought, his gaze occasionally flicking to the basket of fish. You can’t help but notice the way his demeanor has shifted, becoming more relaxed and at ease.

When you finally reach the entrance, you turn to face him. “Thank you for the fish, Sidon. It’s a wonderful catch, and I’m sure it will be appreciated.”

Sidon’s eyes twinkle with satisfaction. “It was my pleasure. I am glad you enjoyed the demonstration.” He pauses for a moment, his expression becoming more serious. “I… I wanted to ask if you would join me for a meal later. We could… share my catch.”

Your heart skips a beat at the invitation. It sounds like a lovely opportunity to spend time with Sidon, but there’s also something else in his tone that makes you feel warm inside. You nod, a smile forming on your lips. “I’d like that. I’ll see you later, then?”

Sidon’s smile returns, and he bows slightly. “I look forward to it. Until then.”

As he turns to leave, you head towards your quarters, feeling a mixture of anticipation and contentment. The day has been full of unexpected moments, and you can’t help but feel that there’s more to come.

Later that evening, you find yourself in a cozy dining area within the Domain. The table is set with simple yet elegant dishes, and the aroma of freshly cooked fish fills the air. Sidon is already there, waiting with a warm smile and a casual, relaxed demeanor.

As you sit down, he gestures to the dishes. “Please, make yourself comfortable. I hope you find the meal to your liking.”

You take a seat and serve yourself, the fish proving to be as delicious as it smelled. The conversation flows easily as you both share stories and experiences, and you find yourself growing more and more at ease with Sidon. A glint catches your eye, focusing your attention on the neck piece Sidon wears.

You raise a brow. “Did you clean your jewelry?”

Sidon’s eyes follow your gaze to the pendant he wears. His face splits into a satisfied grin. “No, it is a new piece. Quite eye-catching, yes?” The bastard is teasing you, but you can’t help being drawn to the allure of shiny things.

Sidon’s grin is playful, and he seems to take delight in your reaction to his new accessory. “It sure caught my eye,” you admit, fidgeting with your own pendant.

He picks up a juicy crab leg and holds it out to you. “Try this.”

You try to take it from his hand, but he gently bats it away. You spare a look at him, but all he offers is an innocent smile. You huff playful and humor him, letting him feed you.  The tenderness of the meat and the rich flavor make your taste buds dance. You savor the bite, nodding in appreciation.

“It’s good,” you affirm, feeling a dribble of sauce slide down your chin. You lift a finger to wipe it away, but you’re beaten to it by a rough touch wiping it away for you. You stare, ensnared as his claw gently pads at your lip, lingering unnecessarily.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself momentarily speechless. His gaze is intense, and the proximity of his touch feels oddly intimate. His eyes search yours, as if trying to read what’s going on in your mind.

The moment stretches between you, a charged silence filling the space. You’re acutely aware of his presence, the closeness, and the way your pulse races.

Finally, Sidon withdraws his hand, his gaze softening as he smiles gently. “Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice a bit shaky as you break the spell. “You didn’t have to–”

Sidon’s expression softens, and he retracts his hand slowly, his gaze still holding yours. “I wanted to,” he says quietly, a genuine smile gracing his lips. “It’s not every day I get to share a meal with someone as special as you.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and you feel a flutter of emotion at his words. You smile back. “Well, I appreciate it,” you reply, trying to keep the tone light. “The meal is wonderful, and the company is even better.”

The conversation continues, but there’s an underlying current of intimacy between you. The evening feels enchanted, each moment spent in Sidon’s presence creating a stronger bond. He’s attentive and caring, making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself.

Eventually, the conversation wanes, and the two of you sit in companionable silence, savoring the last of the meal. Sidon leans back, looking content and relaxed. “I’m glad you enjoyed the evening,” he says softly. “It’s been a pleasure to get to know you better.”

You nod, feeling a warmth in your chest at his words. “I’ve enjoyed it too, Sidon. Thank you for everything.”

He stands, offering you a hand. “May I accompany you back to your quarters?” he asks, his voice gentle. “It would be my honor.”

You take his hand, feeling the familiar jolt of electricity as he helps you up. “I’d like that,” you say, smiling.

When you reach your quarters, Sidon stops and turns to face you, his expression serious yet tender. “I hope tonight was as special for you as it was for me.”

You can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing something, so you’ll ignore it for now. You look up at him, feeling a surge of affection. “It definitely was, Sidon.”

Sidon gently takes your hand and lays a heart fluttering kiss upon it. The kiss lingers on your hand, his warm lips sending a flutter through your entire body. You feel a mix of exhilaration and nervousness as he releases your hand, his gaze never leaving yours. The intimate gesture is a clear declaration, and the softness in his eyes speaks volumes.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice a low murmur. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

You nod, unable to suppress a shy smile. “Goodnight, Sidon.”

As he turns and walks away, you watch him go, feeling a sense of contentment mixed with anticipation for what’s to come.

Well, you’ve always enjoyed a thrill.

The next day, as you resume your activities around the Domain, you notice a subtle shift in how the Zora people interact with you. There’s a newfound warmth in their greetings, and a few even offer small tokens of appreciation for your hard work. It’s clear that your efforts are being recognized and valued, and you can’t help but feel a sense of pride.

Sidon makes it a point to interact with you as much as possible, and people are starting to notice. You get some side-glances from those of Sidon’s “fan club”, but you pay them no mind. You still find it hard to believe that someone like you could be something with someone like Sidon. Even so, the Domain feels more like home with each passing day.

You're helping with a community project near the main plaza, and you spot Sidon approaching with a more determined look than usual. His expression holds a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

“Good evening,” Sidon greets warmly, his eyes lighting up as he sees you. “How are you today?”

“Alright, thank you.” You flap the collar of your shirt to cool yourself. “What can I do for you, Sidon?”

He holds out a hand for you to take. “Please, come with me. I’d like to show you something.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by the look on Sidon's face. Without hesitation, you take his hand, and he leads you away from the bustling plaza. His grip is firm yet gentle, and you can't help but feel a sense of excitement as you follow him through the winding paths of the Domain.

He keeps you close to him during your walk, his body language protective and attentive. Sidon’s pace is steady, and his demeanor is almost bubbling with enthusiasm. The air is cool and refreshing, and the setting sun casts a golden hue over the landscape, making everything seem even more magical. He guides you into a grand room, designed with splendor in mind, fitting for a prince.

Ah. A prince. Like Sidon.

…Is this Sidon’s room?

Your heart skips a beat as you realize where you are. The room is adorned with intricate carvings, beautiful tapestries, and delicate water features, all exuding an air of regal elegance. You can't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the grandeur.

It’s alluring, and just to your liking.

Sidon glances at you from the corner of his eye, satisfied to have captured your attention. He leads you to a large, ornate chest against one wall. With a flourish, he opens it to reveal an assortment of items: delicate jewelry, fine clothing, and intricate artifacts. You gasp at the sight, clearly impressed.

“I’m supposed to be good, Sidon,” you gape, staring at all the luxury you’d love to wear.

Sidon’s smile widens, clearly pleased with your reaction. “You may take whatever you want.” And, fuck, if that doesn’t get you going.

He reaches into the chest and pulls out a stunning necklace. It is similar to the accessories he wears, but somehow it is even more showy. In its grasp is a large tooth, catching the light in a mesmerizing way. It’s even more exquisite than the jewelry he wore during dinner.

“This is for you,” Sidon says, holding the necklace out to you with a touch of shyness in his voice. “It holds… my tooth.”

You stare at the necklace Sidon is offering, its beauty leaving you momentarily speechless. “I... I don’t know what to say,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. Surely, this doesn’t mean what you think it means?

Sidon’s eyes are warm and earnest as he watches you. “It’s a gift, to show my appreciation for everything you’ve done. I thought you might like it.”

Oh, okay, so it’s probably not what you’re thinking. Still, disappointment pools in your gut. He steps closer, gently placing the necklace around your neck. His fingers brush against your skin as he fastens it, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad you like it,” he says softly. “It suits you.”

As he adjusts the necklace, you catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror. The necklace compliments your pendant, and perfect match, and you feel a sense of elegance and grace that you haven’t experienced before.

“It’s stunning,” you say, turning back to Sidon with a grateful smile. “Thank you–”

There’s a glow that catches your eye. It’s almost enchanting, designed to catch your eye and reel you in. Sidon. He’s glowing . The spots that adorn his crest and his blue and yellow fins, are glowing, bioluminescent.

“Have–” you stutter, completely enraptured by the sight of him. “Have you always… glowed?”

Sidon chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yes, it’s a trait of our kind. The bioluminescence only calls for… certain situations.” He seems a bit bashful admitting this, his usual confident demeanor softened by a touch of vulnerability.

The soft glow emanating from Sidon’s body casts a gentle light around the room, making the already beautiful setting even more so. You find yourself drawn to him in a way that feels both new and familiar.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “You’re beautiful.”

Sidon’s blush deepens, the glow intensifying for a moment. He looks at you with a mixture of gratitude and affection. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “It means a lot coming from you.”

The moment feels intimate, the air charged with unspoken emotions. But as a thief, you’ve been known to run away.

“I… thank you for your gift, Sidon. I think I should get some rest now.” Your smile is one of false bravery.

Sidon’s expression flickers with disappointment, but he nods understandingly. “Of course, I understand. Rest well,” he says softly, stepping back to give you space. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You offer him a small, reassuring smile before turning to leave. The hallway outside feels cooler, the grandeur of Sidon’s room fading as you walk back to your quarters. The new necklace feels both heavy and comforting around your neck.

Sidon’s touch haunts you as you fall asleep.

You could’ve sworn you saw a familiar ring on his shoulder as he left.

“Yeah, he’s definitely courting you,” hums Link casually, munching on a fish.

It’s as if he is ignorant to the storm brewing inside of you. Perhaps you should’ve kept your turmoil to yourself, but Link is more knowledgeable on normal people things than you are. Even if only by a little.

Throughout the day, you’ve noticed Sidon watching you from a distance. His presence is comforting, and you find yourself stealing glances at him, your heart skipping a beat each time your eyes meet. There’s a newfound warmth in his gaze, a silent promise of something more.

You stare at Link, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. “You must be mistaken.”

You seriously didn’t notice? Link raises a brow.

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "I thought he was just being nice! Look at how he treats you!”

He doesn’t lavish me in jewelry or give me his tooth, he snorts.

“It’s not like I knew Zora courting rituals,” you groan. “So… what do I do?”

Link shrugs. Do you like him?

“I’m a thief, and he’s a prince.”

That’s not what I asked.

You bite your lip, thinking about all the moments you’ve shared with Sidon, the way he’s made you feel. “Fuck… I think so?”

Sidon’s a good guy, he’ll understand whatever you choose, Link advises. As his best friend, you have my blessing.

You snort, hitting him softly. You pause, thinking. “Zora courting’s all about showing off, right?” Link nods. “Okay. I think I have an idea.”

The secluded garden that Sidon showed you before is as beautiful as you remembered. The lush greenery embraces you as you shed your clothes and settle into the pool. The soft glow of the surrounding plants is all that provides light at this time of night.

You let yourself relax as the water touches your skin. It is neither too cold nor too warm. You let out a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes as you let the gentle ripples of the water soothe your tired muscles. The tranquility of the garden envelops you, and for a moment, you let yourself drift away from the turmoil's of your thoughts and emotions.

The serene ambiance is interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. You open your eyes to see Sidon emerging from the shadows. His gaze falls on you with a mixture of surprise and admiration.

“[Name], I didn’t expect to see you here,” Sidon says, his voice soft and soothing. He pauses at the edge of the pool, seemingly hesitant but clearly intrigued.

You look up at him with a playful smile. “We have much to talk about.”

Sidon’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he steps closer to the pool. “May I join you?”

You nod, gesturing for him to come in. With grace, Sidon enters the pool, his movements smooth and fluid. He swims towards you with a relaxed, yet purposeful stroke, his scales lighting up, his bioluminescence creating a stunning visual effect as he moves. As he approaches, the water around him shimmers with the light of his glow.

He settles in front of you, his presence adding to the already enchanting atmosphere. His eyes trail your figure barely concealed by the water’s surface. “You… tempt me.”

“You’re one to talk,” you huff, gesturing to him in all of his glowing glory. You stand, revealing your body as the water drips off of you.

Sidon’s eyes widen as he takes in your form, his bioluminescence seeming to intensify in response to your display. The way the bioluminescent plants reflect off your wet skin and the water creates a mesmerizing effect. His gaze lingers on you, and you can sense a shift in the air.

He swims closer, the water parting around him as he moves with the grace of a dancer. “You truly are enchanting,” he says, his voice low and earnest.

“You should’ve told me your intentions. I didn’t know you felt that way.” You pause. “You… do feel the same, right?”

“Of course,” he promises, hand coming up to clutch your necklaces. “You’ll never need to doubt that.”

You reach for his hand, taking in the ring on his finger. The very one you found in that box with the pendant you now wear.

“I was not truthful earlier,” he admits, voice breathy as he speaks. “This ring and your pendant, they were a part of an ancient courtship ritual.”

The gentle ripples in the pool seem to echo the rising tension between you and Sidon as he reveals the significance of the ring and pendant. The soft glow of your environment illuminates his face, highlighting the earnest expression in his eyes.

“The pair would craft the jewelry, one the pendant, and one the ring. Then, after they were certain of each other, they would exchange the items, signifying their status as newlyweds.”

You raise a brow. “Newlyweds.” You stop holding back, approaching him and entering his arms. They wrap around your waist, holding you up. Your hands land on his crest, inspecting his glowing spots. “So, we technically exchanged them, back then. Are we married now?”

His tail wags at having you so close. He closes his eyes and sighs into your chest. “It is ancient, dear. Not so valid in this age.”

“Unfortunate,” you mumble, taken by his scales. “So then, the other stuff?”

He hums. “Other stuff?”

“The fish, the tooth.”

“Showing you I am a good provider, a good match,” he states. His claws draw gentle patterns into your skin. “Giving you my shed tooth is one of many courtship gifts. To make jewelry out of one's own self is a sign of deep commitment and affection. I fully intend on having you.”

You sigh shakily at his words. “If you’ll have me, of course,” he shyly adds.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t the case.”

“I certainly wasn’t expecting this from you.” He squeezes your naked body. “After last night, I thought I was too forward…”

“I was confused,” you whisper. “And scared. I didn’t believe that we could be a thing, but…” You rest your head on his. “I’m glad it’s true.”

You lean back, finally having had your fill of his glow. “Zora courting is all about being bold, no? Is this not bold enough for you?”

Sidon’s eyes twinkle with a mix of mischief and affection as he gazes at you. He buries his face into your neck, laughing softly.

“Then you accept? You’ll take me as yours?” His voice is filled with barely concealed glee.

You chuckle. “Yes, Sidon.”

Sidon’s laughter is light and melodious, resonating through the tranquil garden as he pulls you closer. His tail wiggles even more fiercely than before. The warmth of his body against yours is comforting, and you can feel the intensity of his affection in the way he holds you.

He shifts slightly, staring at you, and you understand. You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a long awaited kiss. His kiss is tender, filled with all the emotions he’s conveyed through his gestures and gifts. The world around you seems to melt away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours. The warmth of his affection surrounds you, and you can feel his heartbeat echoing in sync with your own.

Sidon deepens the kiss, his hands caressing your back with a reverent touch. You respond eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lose yourself in the moment. 

When you finally pull away, breathless and with hearts racing, Sidon gazes at you with a mixture of love and contentment. His eyes are filled with profound happiness.

“You’ve made me the happiest Zora in all the Domain,” he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. “I am honored you have chosen me.” Sidon’s grin widens, and he gently pulls you back into his embrace. “I promise to cherish and honor you in every way I can. You are my heart, my everything.”

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the soothing sound of his heartbeat and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. The tranquil garden, the glowing water, and the enchanting atmosphere all seem to conspire to create the perfect moment.

“That’s it then? We’re together now?” you ask, voice quiet in fear of breaking the atmosphere.

“Yes, dear,” he sighs, content. He then smirks mischievously, leaning back to look at you. “Of course, there are other ways of… sealing the deal.”

You smile at Sidon’s playful hint, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. “And what might those be?” you ask, your voice carrying a hint of teasing curiosity.

Sidon’s grin widens. “I’d be delighted to show you,” he purrs, voice rich with promise. He lays you against the pool's edge and sinks underwater. You think back on how you started, never would you have thought you’d end up here. Though, you don’t think you’d change a thing.

His sinks lower, situating between your legs. And then–

And then you don’t think much at all.

notes: hope i wrapped that up well enough. its hard to remember all the points to mention when i yap so much LOL

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

How To Adapt To Fire (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, mentions of death, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, etc.

A/N: This is based off of US Firemen just because that's what I'm most familiar with!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was an arsonist in the city, and you were going to catch them.

Getting out of your car, you slap the door closed behind you and rush out, heels clicking over the concrete as the roaring flames continue violently—orange and red going high into the air, all centered around an abandoned warehouse building. Through the darkness of night, everything was lit up like hell.

Your satchel hits against your thigh one fast step at a time, arms pumping as your eyes find the flashing lights beyond the glare, squinting. 

“MacTavish!” You shout, jogging to the line of yellow tape and slipping under it through a small crowd of locals who call to you sharply. Voices going in one ear and out the other, you only search for that familiar helmeted head and the Scottish accent that accompanies it.

“What is she doing?”

“How come she gets to go closer!?”

“Stop that woman!” 

Your white blouse does little to push back the gusts of molten heat on the roaring airwaves, and neither do your dress pants. You push on with stubborn righteousness, even as the mulling firefighters groan under their breaths when they catch sight of you, all pausing in their various duties and panic of grabbing the hoses and getting the water going. 

The iconic red trucks sit stationary, but the man beside one of the three vehicles has his head nearly snapped off when he darts it over to you in a fast instant. 

“MacTavish!” You call out again, locking onto wide blue eyes that blink rapidly at your appearance. 

An under-the-breath curse is leveled out, heard in between shouts and the spray of water, droplets hitting your hard face.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Not again.” Heavy boots jog over, tan and yellow uniform loose beside the places where the straps of his gear attach various items and tools to his body. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Pencils?” 

“My job,” you call stiffly, your finger going out to tap at the small plastic card attached to your blouse. 

‘PRESS PASS’

“So be a good informant and tell me how much damage this is going to cause,” your hand is already inside of your satchel, flicking on a hand-held recorder, as your eyes scan about. “The fire was bigger here,” you begin without wasting any time, and the firefighter in front of you sighs in exasperation, clenching his jaw. “Was it because this place was abandoned unlike the last four scenes, or because there was a different accelerant used.” 

“I’ve told you, Hen,” MacTavish’s hand moves out in appeasement gestures, glancing at the fire and the rest of the teams that rush to get the rest of the hoses going. “Ya can’t be here when the fucking fire is still ongoing. Do you want to get burnt to a damn crisp?”

“I need answers,” you level, gaze darting back to stare into cerulean blues.

John MacTavish, who everyone just calls Johnny or Soap, for some reason, had been a familiar face to you for upwards of two months. In that time, there had been an alarming amount of suspected arson cases—twelve, counting this one. There was an unprecedented spark-up, most taking place in older neighborhoods and abandoned buildings barring the previous four, of which two people had been seriously injured, and three had died. 

But now, it was back to out-of-the-way properties, and you wanted to know why. You needed to. 

Such an escalation just to suddenly drop back down to no casualties? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for your career as a journalist, then it was for your morbid curiosity of which Johnny was intently familiar with.

 The Scot clenches his jaw, dark eyebrows under his helmet stuck into a line. Around him, the others were getting the blaze under control the best they could—there was no need to go inside to search for anyone and all that had to be done was keep the fire from spreading. So, he had no trouble trying to get you to see sense yet again.

“Do you ever give it a rest,” he asks gruffly, accent thick. “Christ, I’ll be gray before you learn to stop sticking your hands where they don’t belong.” 

“You’re not my mother, MacTavish,” you speak, lowering the recorder. “Do you have anything for me?”

Johnny moves up a hand and runs it over his face, groaning. A smirk flickers to your lips. 

“You’re worse than a fly,” he breathes, unimpressed eyes opening to stick to you. “I can’t say much right now, most of it is left for forensics. Just from the blaze alone,” he glances over, taking it in. “I’d make a guess that an accelerant was used. Especially with how fast it popped up and the intensity of it. I’d have to get the dogs down here for a sniff, but it’s likely.”

“Do you think it’s—”

“Connected?” Johnny interrupts, lips twitching at the annotated gimmer in your eye. “Aye. This was man-made. There was nothing here that could start a blaze like this.” 

You click the recorder’s button and move back with a sigh. 

“Lovely.” 

The Scot raises a slow brow, looking you up and down, confused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all you can give me right now,” you mutter, sliding a look at him as your eyes squint at the rabid flames. Pieces of screeching metal fall into a heap, a loud boom of spreading smoke and lifeless coughing of material in the air. 

“Fucking hell,” you murmur to yourself. “This had to be one of the biggest ones so far.”

It was getting held back from the surrounding buildings—slowly but surely in the morning, the entire place would be a smoldering pile of ash and metal, only more questions left behind. 

Johnny sets his hands on the collar of his gear, sighing. “Won’t be the deadliest, though, will it? I’m just glad there won’t be bodies to drag out.”

You send a side-eye his way, feet shuffling. “That, I can agree with. But the pattern doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, sorry, Hen, but you’ll catch me a bit more concerned about the potential next targets than the pattern.” He grunts, rolling his shoulders. “We need to catch this prick. Soon. Resources are stretched thin.”

“It’s like the guy completely switched his M.O.,” you ignore him, eyes narrowing. “Abandoned buildings, then to taking people's lives, then right back to where he started? That doesn’t happen overnight.”

Johnny grunts. “‘Cept here.”  

You sigh, tapping your fingers against your bag. The man at your side looks over, shrugging as he takes in the firmness of your expression—the same that he usually wears to any scene he gets called to. Determination. 

“I’ll get the report to you soon as I get it,” Johnny breathes, tilting his head. “Figured with all of your connections, you’ll have a better chance at piecing it all together.” 

“Thank you,” you nod. The man hums. 

“Now, get the hell out of here, yeah? Makin’ me nervous. Tape’s there for a reason Dearie.”

Scoffing, you toss up a hand and shake your head. “I live to make people nervous, MacTavish. You don’t help bust criminals and not make people nervous.” 

You begin backing back up, studying the land one more time. Johnny’s lips are thin, and he shifts his legs to stare after you. 

“Just be careful,” he calls, fingers tightening at his collar, strong jaw moving as he fixes it. His heart stutters in its course. “Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, Hen.”

You wave a hand, and then you’re off again, disappearing into the crowd with flames rising high behind you. 

The fireman watches tightly, licking his lips before shouting, “I’m serious!”

—

Your list of enemies was seemingly endless. 

Drug busts, criminal enterprises, hitmen—there was no shortage of stories you’d broken and your name being printed into the papers; you weren’t at all unknown to the city or the various police or fire stations. Many described you as a public nuisance, but…you were viewed with a modicum of respect as well—even if it was kept under breath. 

Yet, where there was respect, there was also the less savory emotion of contempt from the related individuals of those whom you’d landed into the eyes of the law and behind bars.

Perhaps you’d taken this arsonist for a disorganized fool…but you were about to get a very violent reality shift. 

“This is the report?” You ask, Johnny sipping from his coffee cup as you both sit in the park three days later, the bench stiff as your fingers play over the manila folder you’d been passed. 

“The public one.” Soap huffs when you slide him a look, his finger pointing at you as he holds his drink. “What? Pencils, I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not about to risk my career for something I can just tell you first-hand.”

You sigh, muttering before your hand pushes open the papers. “Go on, then.” 

Johnny smugly smirks, chuckling as his free hand goes up to fix the backward ballcap on his head. Under the tight hold of his athletic shirt, gray sweatpants sharply contract your put-together and professional appearance—like night and day. He still smells of smoke and metal. 

“You’re bein’ more snappy than usual. Publisher still on your arse, Bonnie?”

“Telling me I need to drop this goose chase,” you grumble, scoffing, eyes skimming down the printed words ahead of you. “As if.”

“Ah, he’ll come round,” Johnny’s lips flicker, flesh crinkling under that stubble of his. An overgrown mohawk leaks from the sides of his hat. “C’mon, tell me what ya need. I’ve got it all up here,” he goes to tap his head, taking another gulp of his coffee. 

The morning air is cold all around you, and people pass pushing strollers or jogging—Saturday just beginning to spread over minds and wake those who’ve slept in. Johnny and you weren’t quite like that. 

“Our theory about the accelerant?”

“My theory,” Soap grumbles but nods. “Gasoline. Dogs found traces all over—there was a damn lot.” 

You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Fits the profile from the other cases except the ones involving casualties.” Your lips pull into a frown, Johnny’s face going more serious. “Weren’t those all started with matches to the curtains in the living rooms?”

“Aye,” Johnny tips his chin to you. “Couldn’t figure that out until—”

“Until you found the matchbox out in the lawn at one of the crime scenes, plus the busted locks on the front doors. All exactly the same.”

The fireman grunts, lips flickering as his face goes a bit red. “Know my job better than I do.” 

You pause, a small heat coming to your cheeks, eyes pausing in their search for new information. “I’m not the one who willingly goes into burning buildings, give yourself more credit.”

Johnny leans closer, chuckling. “Was that a compliment, Pencils?”

“No,” you slide out. 

He hums a sound of amusement, moving back as his form slouches into the bench. A bird darts past overhead, chirping. “Goin’ soft on me. ‘Bout time—I've been waiting.” 

You roll your eyes heavily, closing the manila folder and shifting it into your satchel. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You face Soap head-on, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the tease hidden in them. “The station? Home?” Your brow raises. “Animal shelter—I heard they take in strays.”

“Ah,” Johnny flinches, hand raising to his chest as he feigns hurt. “This how you thank your favorite public servant?” 

“You’ll live,” you grumble, standing and flattening out your long black coat. “Come on. Seeing as you’re not entirely lost to me, I’m getting breakfast today.”

Johnny’s beaming grin makes your lips pull in a low smile.

“And just like that,” he chuckles, standing up so that his boots hit the ground and his hand falls into his pocket. The empty cup in his hand is tossed into the trash. “I’m a picture-perfect specimen. Not that I wasn’t already, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you breathe, voice exasperated even as your smile breeds along the lines of your face. 

The both of you take off side by side, legs mirroring the others’ pace one slow movement at a time. Throughout your meetings for information, Johnny and yourself have grown close to one another—Violet’s Dinner one of the many places that was the unfortunate hub for your intel swapping. However, it was only unfortunate for the patrons, not you.

Soap gave what he knows about the fires and the ways they were started, and you gave over potential next targets based on whatever you can piece together from your police informants as well as others. 

You hum as you both walk the trail, slowly weaving away from the bench and down to the gated entrance of the park, slipping past the black iron as John holds it open for you. 

“Besides the ol’ fire-freak, then,” Johnny begins, smiling over at you as he itches at his neck, large arm reaching up and flexing. “Any other big breaks?”

Head turning his way, you speak easily. “In which article—the multi-generational money laundering bust at Warren’s Electrical or the murders near Fifth Ave? Or even the drug smuggling near the docks?” 

Blue eyes blink. “...Eh…any of ‘em?”

You snort, turning back to the sidewalk and shrugging. 

“You asked.” You slyly begin, before getting into the mental paper that you still had to type and send into editing. “Roy Laurence committed the murders near Fifth Avenue—my informant with the SWAT team says he was arrested and booked within an hour of the green light. DNA and fingerprints found at the scene of the last victim.” You raise a hand. “Now, I just have to try and get a spot in the courtroom when a trial date is released.”

“Well,” Johnny breathes, sending you a veiled look after a moment. “Don’t mean to brag, Pencils, but I got to help an old lady cross the street yesterday.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Soap chuckles. The sidewalk continues, men and women passing at their slow paces as cars zip past; the fireman taking the chivalrous stance of the person beside the street unconsciously.

“And I’m sure she was very pleased, MacTavish,” you push out, shifting closer to him as an individual passes by, bumping your arm into his. 

“Aye, she was,” the man huffs proudly, puffing his chest. “Called me a handsome bloke and kissed my cheek. Blushed a bit.”

“Playboy,” you tease, eyes narrowed over at him. “Cheating on the mutts back at the station?”

Johnny gasps, putting on a serious face. “Don’t you call Mr. Spots a mutt, Dearie—that’s too far.”

“Christ,” you breathe, and an arm settles over your shoulders, shaking you a bit and squeezing your flesh before chuckles follow. 

Trying not to sink into the feeling of heat and the promise of fire, you live in this moment of nearly something. There was the close sensation of borderline affection—just brushing the sense of care and…pining. 

You knew the Scot was interested in you, or, at the very least, knew he had some modicum of attraction to you. Hell, the way he’d flirted with you when you’d propositioned him to be your link to the fire department was nearly laughable even today. All smirks and glinting eyes.

John was funny, no one was denying it. 

There was that firm push and pull between the two of you, a string attached to your wrists that wouldn’t snap—that had seemingly only grown stronger over the months of mystery. But the arsonist took precedence. 

Play can only come after work, and you were the picture of professionalism. Or maybe just stubbornness.

“The regular?” Johnny asks, letting you go as he pushes open the front door of Violet’s with his shoulder, keeping it there as you move inside and nod. 

“Sure. Same seats?” 

The fireman smirks. “Always.” 

You smile, walking off to the corner booth as John goes up to the front, waving down the familiar face of the waitress to let her know that the both of you are here. The two exchange pleasantries as you sigh and lean back into the red-cushioned seats, letting your satchel drop near your feet. Sending a text to your editor, you tell him that you’ll have an article written up about one of your ongoing fixations by Monday.

Johnny’s broad shadow soon graces you once more, carrying a plate of fresh bread with butter on it. 

“Lady’s a fuckin’ lifesaver,” he breathes. “Gave us free bread today.”

Your eyes dart over to Tammy, the waitress, who winks at you before disappearing to help another customer. Hiding the twitch of your lips, you raise a brow at John. 

“Don’t you usually get pancakes, too? Your stomach will explode,” you huff. 

“Ah,” his face scrunches in dismissal. “There’s always room for fresh bread.”

His large fingers are already around the body of a knife, slathering gooey butter on a steaming piece of the carb, chomping down and swallowing before he speaks—reaching for another.

 “So, spill it on me.”

Your fingers reach out, grasping some bread and bringing it to your lips. You chew, swallow, and ease out, “I think there are two arsonists.” 

Johnny pauses, wide eyes stuck on you as he stops his hand from bringing up the next piece of food. He blinks, his face tightens as he wonders over the information that you have, and then the groans out a long, “Fucking hell… one who’s doing it for kicks, the other who’s settling scores.”

“Precisely,” you shrug. “It explains the complete break in character, and we have enough fires to show that not only is the way the flames started different, but for different reasons as well. One wants to kill, the other can’t control it. Impulse.” 

“Makes sense,” Johnny grumbles, amused mood for the moment dropping to one of flashing anger. He taps his knuckles slowly on the table, thinking. “You tell the police this theory?”

“Nah,” you shake your head as your legs shift along the seat. “You know how the chief gets about me—I need to do some of my own leg-work. Get more evidence.”

The Fireman is already shaking his head with a chuckle that has no ounce of tease or jest in it. “Nah ah, no fuckin’ way am I letting you get involved with two arsonists—certainly not one that kills people, Hen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking permission,” you smirk as your breakfast plates are brought over. Johnny’s is full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and you, your regular. You thank Tammy with a nod and take a sip of your small drink. “There has to be a connection between the victims. I’ve written about them before, my notes have the answers, I’m sure. I need to focus on one at a time—”

“Bonnie—”

“A possible Revenge-Motivated Arsonist is a far bigger threat than one that only has an impulse to light fires and not harm others. I’ll leave the ladder to you—”

A hand grabs at your own, grasping it firmly. Head snapping up to the square jaw ahead of you, which is tight, the stubble moving the scar along his chin one frown line at a time, you pause your quick rant. Face steadily heating as callouses run along your flesh like un-cut granite, your heart stutters.

“You’ll do nothing without me.” Johnny’s expression leaves no room for discussion. 

Mouth slightly parted, your eyelids blink before a squeeze is leveled out on your hand, and the Fireman shifts back. Your eyes follow, stuck on how his shirt hugs his large biceps and the gentleness of how he held you—how he always held you. 

Focus.

“You’re not getting dragged into this,” you chuckle, tilting your head seriously. “It could cost you your job.”

Johnny shrugs. “Only if I’m caught. If you're half as stubborn, as I already know you to be, Pencils,” he sighs, low smile coming to his lips. “Then I know you’ll be needing my level head.” Cobalt eyes twinkle.

You stare at him, blinking. Ignoring that skip in your pulse. As hard as you would like to try, you can’t say no to that face of his—that open expectation and firm choice.

“As level as a steep decline,” your grumble meets Soap’s ears, and the man’s face twists with an ingrained amusement that breeds the closer you are to him. It was easy to bounce jokes with you—like a pair of birds, squawking and puffing feathers, only stopping at strange intervals to preen one another before the loud chatter started anew. 

“And stop it with the dumb nickname already,” you glare. “It happened once.”

John drags his plate closer, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite out of it. “It isn’t every day you see a bonnie Hen with seven pencils in her breast pocket, is it? Hell of a first meeting with that serious face of yours and the sight of fabric practically ripping open.”

“I was in a rush,” your face burns, jaw rotating. “At least I was prepared, MacTavish.”

“Well, who’s sayin’ I wasn’t prepared?”

“Me!” Your fingers grab at your fork, pointing it at him. “You were practically covered head-to-toe in ashes!”

Red cheeks on his part, but always that adorning sheen to his expression.

“I was just in from a damn fire!”

Breakfast went as it usually did—good food and better company—but there was a deeper level to it now; a sharp edge of purpose. By the time the both of you were done, you’d already made up your mind to make it back to your apartment and gather the intel that you had. Find a starting point.

But, as mysteries like these always go, the good times came to a rapid cliff-drop. Johnny was muttering about his work schedule back on the sidewalk when he got the call. 

Phone to ear, you’d seen his face tighten—feet going completely still as you have to halt and look back at him, confused. A breeze goes by on the air, and your nose twitches to a sharp tang that leaves your fingers twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘fire on third street?’” Your body locks up, and Johnny’s face becomes devoid of pigment, watching yours closely. It was a strange emotion on his face; a hard and hesitant thing all at once. He was staring, brows pulled in as your lungs seemingly went to concrete inside of your ribs.

Third street? Fire? 

Soap’s voice goes even lower. Spine even more straight. “...Stillview apartments?” 

You’re already running before you can understand the severity of the revelation—dashing as Johnny yells after you to stop. 

That was your apartment building.

“Dearie!” The fireman shouts, his boots pounding after, but you had a head start, shoving through the crowds, dodging strollers and trash cans—bags and thrown curses. “Fucking hell, stop!”

Your form darts fast, heart hammering. Already your mind is running through every possibility and explanation. How could this be happening? Why? Has one of the arsonists found you out? But even then, it could only be the one intent on murder—countless others lived in your building; this was more than intent…it was a massacre.

Fires don’t just spark at a time like this to not be called connected.

Even over the air, you could hear sirens above Johnny’s loud pleas to slow down, moving as well as he could through the rush of people. 

He’s still on the phone, barking questions and the will of his legs to take him in the direction of the department building. But you. The back of your head in his black-sided vision. 

The man knows that if he doesn’t catch you, you’ll run straight into that blaze not only for the principal but your evidence. Your cork boards and their red strings—your pictures and printed articles. Johnny knew you had them, he wasn’t an idiot. 

You were too smart for your own good.

He was nearly there—just a few more steps and he could grab the back of your jacket like some stray cat, pull you back until you were in his arms. A fireman, yes, but he’d never get used to the inferno that was you; you consumed him utterly. It was an instant feeling for him, and even with the initial flirting, the immediate latching of his attention held fast. A bird to a wire. Hopeless, he was. Johnny was afraid at how much you trapped him in your ways—your looks and your…you-ness.

And you were only making him more afraid at this very instant. 

Soap was the only person ever supposed to be walking into fire.

“Hen!” The fireman barks, sharp and visceral. But you only take the next corner faster, satchel slapping against your thigh. 

“No,” you pant, legs dashing. “No, no, no. I left everything I need for this case in my filing cabinet!” 

This is what you get for trying to be organized for once.

You smell the smoke before you see it, and feel the heavy hand on your coat collar not a moment after you lock on it.

“MacTavish!” Your angered voice moves out, but it’s all strangled away in a fast moment of the screaming of sirens and the visible fire from your tall apartment building strikes you. Watching blankly, your face falls as strong arms reel you back into a chest. 

“Fuck,” Johnny growls, eyes wide as he looks on, phone clenched tightly in one hand. His jaw writhes with tension, vision darting from one fire truck to another and the men available to help. People were doing a myriad of things—screaming, running, watching—but through it all, there was the presence of fear coupled with a static anticipation. 

Panting heavily, you watch your life’s work go up in flames, and feel the tight arms of your informant keep you close.

You learn that if you don’t adapt to this fire sooner or later, it’s going to consume you. And still, you can’t understand if you’re talking about Johnny, who murmurs quick words of comfort into your ear, or the case that just locked you in with chains of commitment and rage.

The real work had just begun as ashes fell like snow to the street; the spray of the firetruck’s water flew with sure aim. Your face hardens, and you feel that worried grip tighten, bringing you into a ramshackle hug.

You have an arsonist to catch, and not a single person would stop you now.

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[keehomania]

Mark with big tits reader was craaazyy good 😵‍💫 what about mark with insecure reader bc she has tiny bitty titty (me)✌️

this is not a love story — mark lee (마크 리)

✧ WC: 15.8K

✧ SYN: you’ve never known love, no matter how much you believed you did. maybe it was never fated for you to cross paths, maybe it was never really there.

✧*. 18+

if there was anything you refused to allow yourself to believe in, it was a happy ending. taking things for granted seemed to come easy for humans, you thought. or rather, you knew, because you were a part of the majority. times were simpler when you were blissfully unaware. back then, you were just blissful, unaware of just how complicated life would get after those trial years.

you got your happy ending, you lived it until you turned fourteen, ready for a cruel beginning. it was easy to take the simple things for granted, and if you could turn back time, the first thing you would do is make sure to cherish it all. cherish staying up an hour past your bedtime, cuddled up with your mother, watching whatever show she had turned on. you didn’t care at the time, you didn't care for her midday soap operas or her nightly detective shows, but it was different now. now, you would give anything to watch just one more episode, curled up in her lap. you would give anything to get up early and get ready for school with your mother’s makeup, even though you hated going. you would give anything to watch cinderella one more time, to believe that happy endings really did exist.

your makeshift happy ending came to its final act when you turned fifteen. you had moved from busan to seoul just a few years back, and you were unable to adapt. a new school, new friends and a new way of life was awaitng you, but you had no idea how to make peace with it. it wasn’t too hard the first few years, all you had to do was keep to yourself. the thought of it was what kept you away from the other students, away from their cliques and personal politics, kept your grades steady and you to yourself. you were never in the eye of the storm, nobody had a reason to pick on you. like many other things, you had taken the peace for granted.

most of it started when you were fifteen, your own hormones teaming up against you. nothing had changed—not the silence, not the way those around you acted. nothing changed except your approach; you felt insignificant, like nothing you said or did mattered. you noticed the attention fall on the other girls from your class, the way nearly every boy was fond of them, showered them with praise. everything you had deemed irrelevant before had come back and hit you like a ton of bricks. why did nobody bother to give you that kind of attention? were you that ugly? was puberty doing everybody but you justice?

those kind of thoughts had started to flood your mind, seeping into every crack and crevice of your attention and ultimately stealing it from the things that really mattered. you started to focus more on your physical appearance, waking up an hour too early just to touch yourself up. you wanted to turn yourself into someone you knew you weren’t, to live somebody else's life just to feel better about yourself. everybody questioned the sudden change, no matter how little of important you deemed yourself. why was your hair straightened? had your lashes grown overnight? what was with the skimpy clothes? in a way, it was effective. more people had started talking to you, even if it was small talk. it made you feel good, but you knew you could do better.

you had traded what would later be a piece of your soul in exchange for temporary security. you entered your first real relationship that same year—it wasn’t real, it lasted five months. to a fifteen year-old girl with less than no experience, it was real. it was real when you held hands, kissed, when you lied to your parents to see him—even if it was for just twenty minutes, when he made you feel like you were the most important girl in the world. it was just as real to you when you had started smoking, drinking, doing all the things you swore not to do with him. it didn’t count if it was with him, right?

it became real when reality hit you like a physical blow to your stomach. ultimately, you had lost your virginity to him in a way that was so sudden, you knew in your head that it wasn’t love, but you weren’t thinking with your head. not when you wore your heart on your sleeve so proudly. it didn’t seem like a big deal to you, you didn’t even like it all that much. you just wanted to feel the love you so badly chased after, even if it only lasted five minutes. you told your friend all about it the next day, but you were so worked up and eager to share the news that you had forgotten just how much the kids your aged liked to blabber, and it was exactly what he did. you didn’t realize just how fast the news had spread, you didn’t register the dirty looks and condescending stares for a good while, until you had to.

the news of your distasteful encounter had reached the staff. the principal, the secretary, and the guidance counselor. when you were called into her office, you didn't know what it was you were expecting. the office itself put you off—white, sleek walls, a tidy desk, three chairs alligned perfectly to the side, and the sharp, pungent stench of medical supplies. everything about it made your stomach twist with fear, even though you didn’t know what it was that you were so afraid of. the silence only put you off further, but then, she finally cut through it. the sole start was just to ask you basic questions—how were you doing? have you been experiencing any issues lately? what was your life like at home, any concerns? it was meant to make you comfortable, to spread your soul open and go after its most tainted parts, but it only made you more queasy.

you wished the small talk had lasted longer, because you were absolutely unprepared for what followed. when she asked you if it was true that you had lost your virginity, you felt your world turn upside down. you were sure she had seen the way your face paled and heard the way your heart thumped in your ears, you were positive. your throat had started to close up and your lips grew chapped, no matter how many times you ran your tongue over them. in the end, you had to admit it, there was absolutely no way out of it. you had finished your confession with what worried you the most, begging her to honor the counselor code and to keep your parents uninformed. she promised to keep it a secret, but never intended on taking it to her grave.

in all fairness, you were fifteen. it wasn’t morally right to lie to you, but lying to your parents about such a situation would've been even worse. your mother threw a fit, broke down in the worst way possible and cried herself to sleep three nights in a row. your father had shut down—he was never mad, he was just disappointed. your mother had gone off like a time bomb waiting to explode, and she finally did. she exploded in a way that made you feel like you were the epitome of everything wrong with the world, and in a way that made her feel like she was the reason for it. you had blamed her for taking advantage of your future for so long, for forcing you to move with her just because she wanted to—because she longed for her city even if you liked yours better. you didn't think you resented her for it, even though she knew you did. she made peace with it, with the fact that you had both found a way to put a strain on your relationship.

your boyfriend was the first to break things off with you, even though you were the one instructed to do so. you had no intention of doing it, telling him all about what happened and his response being something generic and typical for a boy his age—you’d find a way out of it, he'd stay by your side, he’d wait as long as possible for you. you didn’t know it then but when you looked back at it, you felt like a fool. none of his promises were fulfilled, and you were left with a void in your heart for the first time in your life. it was a void you had filled with cheap cigarettes, shots of groccery store tequila, red hair dye and an absolute punch to your youth.

you were sixteen by then, and you had lost any and all touch with reality. the void in your soul was blocked by going to parties you swore you would never come across, befriending the hosts even though you knew they were shitty people, expanding your circle of friends you knew hated you deep down—but you didn’t care. it was a phase that took a toll on you and your reputation. during that phase, you had gotten yourself entangled in two more relationships. they were short-lived, shorter than your first one, but you didn’t wanna be alone. if you weren't with your friends or drinking, you wanted to feel loved. even if you knew it was temporary. you had given yourself up two more times to feel the love you thought you deserved, even though it wasn’t love. it didn’t faze you until people started talking about it, again.

this would happen four more times. four more times would you give yourself up to four different people you thought loved you. maybe some of them did, you didn’t know anymore. you had stopped believing in it a long time ago, you had stopped chasing the happy ending you thought awaited you. maybe you struggles weren’t all for nothing, you hoped, maybe the sun was hidden behind the clouds, but it wasn't. the sun had fallen and it was dark, and your only source of light was what was familiar. it wasn’t a good kind of familiar, no matter how useful the light seemed. it was a blinding kind of light and it, too, would succumb to the darkness at some point.

the cycle repeated itself four times, but you were too numb to realize just how bad it had gotten. the only time you had fallen in love during the whole ordeal was with the fourth guy. you were seventeen at the time, and he was a year younger than you. anybody listening would’ve assumed it was your shot at a happy ending, that it was everything you’ve ever wanted, and it almost was. almost. you were out with your friend and her boyfriend, and he had insisted on going to one of the many bars in town, but your friend was reluctant. you had been texting a guy at the time and, though it was rather casual, he happened to be in the same bar. it was the only reason you agreed, promising her you’d be there for just a bit. the guy you had been texting wasn’t too eager to see you, thinking it was too soon, but it all changed when you walked in. as corny as it was, it was the truth. he hadn’t expected you to be so pretty, so charming and so gentle with him. you barely noticed him at first—when you walked into the bar, the first thing you felt was the stench of medical equipment in the bathroom assaulting your nostrils.

despite the rough start, it was a relationship that blossomed into something that was as beautiful as a foxglove. it came in different shades, patterns and shapes, but it was beautiful. it was beautiful when you took a glance at it, even a good stare. it was beautiful when you embraced it, even for a long while, but it was just as deadly if you held onto it for too long. that was exactly what you did. you held onto it until you had nothing to hold onto anymore, until the stem had snapped and the petals danced in the air. the petals were all that was left, but even they showed no mercy. he had broken it off after six months, claiming to have done it because you were dishonest with him about how many people you had slept with prior to him, but you knew that it wasn't true. you knew he had just gotten bored of you.

your breaking point came just after, and you grieved him far longer than you should have. eight months proceeding the split had been spent drinking, pondering and making a fool out of yourself—all because of a man. it made you spiral, shift and it was the sole reason you fell apart. nothing mattered anymore, not even the people that made it their mission to turn your the intimate details about your life into a public spectacle. you let yourself fall apart with nothing to catch you but your own too arms, and even they weren’t enough to carry the weight of your burdens. had you ever known love? what was the point of feeling the warmth of a home if it was built with cards? you hadn’t known love, and you were sure you never would.

you started to take yourself seriously when you turned eighteen. the people hated you, all the people your age. they all knew you based on the mistakes you had made, the most intricate details of your life that you prayed would never come to light, and the poor decisions on your behalf. your name had become such a taboo topic that you had detached yourself from the rest of the city. you spent a summer away in japan with your uncle, searching for a way to put your mind at ease. upon coming back, you were quick and pleased to discover that everybody had forgotten about you. you were no longer relevant, your scandals were no longer interesting to talk about. it was something that one of your exes, kim dongyoung, assured you that it was as if people has forgotten about you entirely. despite having a rough split with him, one that was entirely your fault, you remained friends with him, and he was good to you.

your final year of high school came to a peaceful and successful close. all of your time was devoted to your classes and extracurriculars, and nobody said a word about it. you had assumed tens of thousands of derogatory words would roll off their tongues, at least behind your back, but there was nothing. once again, you didn't matter, and you couldn't have been happier about it. you graduated as best as you could, and absolutely everything had changed, but you didn’t feel at ease. you didn't feel like you would get your happy ending, no matter how well you were doing.

the pressure that once felt distant was now inescapable, crushing you under its weight. you thought the relief would come after graduation, that somehow this looming sense of duty would evaporate as you took the next logical step—studying law, following in the footsteps your family had silently mapped out for you. but instead, the silence from everyone around you only added to your disquiet. the silence wasn’t praise, it wasn’t encouragement, it was indifference. you had worked so hard for nothing more than a polite smile, a generic “congratulations.” no one cared.

that was when the contract came in—a modeling gig, of all things. It was meant to be temporary, a short detour from the expected path. you figured it would be easy. why wouldn’t it be? pose for a few pictures, walk down a runway. In and out, no mess. you’d take some time, maybe earn a little money before heading to law school like you had always planned. you signed your name on the dotted line, not fully realizing what it meant. suddenly, you were in it—korea’s newest face, the nation’s ‘princess.’ the transformation wasn’t gradual; it was like waking up in someone else’s body. one minute you were a student, scandalous, spat on. the next, you were everywhere. billboards, magazines, flashing cameras. thhe whole country seemed to know your name, and for the first time, you felt like you existed.

but existence always came at a price. at first, it was small sacrifices. a skipped meal here, an extra workout there. you told yourself it was temporary, just until the next shoot, just until the next campaign. soon, celery and ice cubes became your daily staples, the only things you allowed yourself to consume. the emptiness inside you wasn’t just hunger anymore—it was something deeper, more insidious. your reflection in the mirror grew sharper, more defined, as if every pound you shed stripped away another layer of who you used to be.

the people around you noticed the changes, but not in the way you expected. the criticisms came, not from the people who mattered to you, but from strangers. overweight men with sagging bellies, women who would never fit into the clothes you wore—they all felt entitled to say something. a comment about your posture, the way your hips didn’t quite match their idea of perfection, how your eyes looked too tired. their words clung to you like grease, seeping into every pore until you began to believe them. but you didn’t stop. you couldn’t stop. the insults only fueled you, driving you to work harder, push further, just to prove them wrong.

there were moments when you wanted to quit, when the exhaustion from endless workouts and starvation weighed you down so heavily that you felt your bones might snap under the strain. there were nights when you stared at the ceiling, wondering if you had made the right choice, if modeling had been easier than law—or if this was just another cage, more gilded but no less suffocating. yet, despite it all, something began to shift. it started with the way people looked at you. at first, you didn’t notice. you were too busy hiding your exhaustion behind perfect makeup, too focused on pretending that everything was fine. but then, you began to see it—the looks that weren’t pitying, weren’t dismissive. people weren’t looking at you like they used to, with that thin layer of contempt, the way they had in school. it wasn’t hatred anymore. this time, when they looked at you, it was admiration.

the way their eyes lingered on you wasn’t like before. It was different—soft, almost reverent. you could feel it in the way they stood a little straighter when you walked into a room, the way conversations quieted, as if your mere presence demanded attention. you started to recognize that look. it was the one you had given others, the untouchable, the perfect. they didn’t see you as human anymore, but as something beyond that. they saw perfection, or the closest thing to it that they could grasp.

it felt good. addictively good. the power that came with their admiration, their respect, it washed over you like a warm current, and you couldn’t deny how much you craved it. it filled the hollow places inside you that no amount of food or rest could fix. you had always wanted to be seen, to matter, and now you did. it didn’t matter if you were starving. it didn’t matter if you felt like you were falling apart behind the scenes. as long as they looked at you like that, it was worth it, wasn’t it? you had become korea’s ‘princess,’ but deep down, you knew. the crown was heavy, and it wasn’t yours to keep forever. you just didn’t know how long you could carry it.

the studio was a cavernous space, its high ceilings disappearing into soft shadows cast by the industrial lighting rigged above. a haze of white light bathed the room, diffusing over every surface, amplifying the sharpness of the scene in front of you. rows of expensive cameras clicked in perfect rhythm, each shutter a drumbeat to your performance. the set was minimal—sleek, modern, monochrome—a backdrop of muted grays and blacks that made your crimson gown blaze like fire.

you were the centerpiece, draped in a figure-hugging satin dress that pooled dramatically around your feet. the fabric clung to every curve, shimmering under the lights with every subtle movement. a slit ran high up your thigh, a calculated element of the designer’s vision. the neckline dipped just enough to tease, but not to scandalize. everything was deliberate, down to the last stitch. you had become a canvas, an embodiment of elegance, allure, and untouchable sophistication.

“alright, beautiful, chin up. yes, just like that,” the photographer’s voice echoed, smooth and precise. his name was han minseok, and he had a reputation for bringing out the best in his models. his praise came easy, but you knew better than to let it sink in too deep. you held your pose, lifting your chin slightly, eyes half-lidded as you stared down the lens with calculated indifference. “perfect, darling,” minseok murmured. the camera clicked again, rapid-fire. “you’re nailing it. hold it right there—perfect!”

your manager, jeong jaehyun, stood off to the side, arms crossed, observing the shoot with an approving smile. his eyes followed every movement you made, calculating, critiquing, but also proud. he knew how to push you, knew exactly how far you could go before breaking. and today, you were flawless. you could feel his approval radiating from him without him needing to say a word. you shifted your weight slightly, allowing the dress to catch the light in a new way. the faintest smirk tugged at your lips—a hint of danger, a whisper of seduction. you manqged to embody the theme of the shoot effortlessly. minseok lowered the camera, grinning wide. “that’s a wrap. fantastic work as always.”

jaehyun approached you, his smile soft but pleased. he handed you a bottle of water, and you accepted it with a gracious nod, twisting the cap off to take a slow sip. the cold liquid hit your parched throat, refreshing but momentarily distracting. when you looked back at him, you noticed it—the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes today. there was a sadness, a shadow lingering behind his usually confident demeanor. “jaehyun,” you said softly, eyebrows furrowing. “what’s wrong?”

his smile wavered. “sit down for a second,” he said, gesturing toward one of the nearby makeup chairs. your heart skipped a beat, a subtle prickle of worry crawling up your spine. you did as he asked, sitting gingerly, suddenly aware of the hum of the studio around you—the muffled conversations, the clinking of equipment being packed away, the janitor scrubbing at a stubborn stain on the floor in the corner. the sharp smell of cleaning chemicals stung your nostrils, cutting through the faint scent of hairspray still lingering in the air. you tried to ignore it, forcing your attention back to jaehyun.

“what’s going on?” you asked, your voice low and uneasy. he hesitated, a brief flicker of discomfort crossing his features before he spoke. “i’m being relocated. back to connecticut. it’s for a while—maybe a few months.”

you blinked, the words sinking in like a slow, cold weight. “what?” your voice came out quieter than you intended. he saw the look on your face, and he immediately stepped forward, taking your hands into his, his grip firm but comforting. “i’ll be back,” he assured you, his tone gentle. “you’ll be fine, better than fine. you’re doing better than ever.”

the disappointment hit you like a punch to the chest, sharp and unexpected. “i can’t do it without you,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking. he shook his head, his expression softening even more. “it’s not me, it’s you. i’m the one who can’t do this without you.”

his words should have been comforting, but they only deepened the sense of dread coiling in your stomach. jaehyun had been with you since the beginning, guiding you through every high and low, through every mistake and every victory. the thought of him not being there, even for a little while, made the ground beneath your feet feel unsteady. he paused for a moment, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles before he continued. “you’ll have someone new. a friend of mine, just as experienced as me. i trust him completely.” you frowned, skeptical. “who?”

“you’ll meet him tonight,” he said, offering a small smile. “the whole team is going out for drinks, and he’ll be there.” you nodded, though the knot of anxiety in your chest tightened. even with his reassurances, the idea of working with someone new didn’t sit well with you. the trust you had in him wasn’t something that could be replaced so easily. sensing your unease, jaehyun leaned down, wrapping you in a hug. his arms were warm, familiar, grounding. “you’ll always be a star,” he murmured against your ear, his voice low and comforting. “with or without me.”

you hated how much those words hurt. hated how much you had allowed yourself to rely on him. it wasn’t supposed to be this way. you weren’t supposed to get attached—not to anyone. but history had a cruel way of repeating itself, didn’t it? all you ever did was get attached. you didn’t trust yourself to say anything, so you nodded silently, letting him hold you for a moment longer before he pulled away, his hand squeezing yours one last time. he gave you a final smile—sad, but reassuring—before he turned and walked toward the door, leaving you alone with the weight of his absence already settling over you, even if he hadn’t left you yet. they all left, why was it so shocking that his turn had come?

your apartment was a modern contradiction—beautiful, sleek, but hollow. the wide windows let in a gentle glow from the streetlights outside, casting long shadows against the pristine white walls. it was elegant, like something out of a design magazine, all clean lines and expensive furniture. the kind of place that should have felt like home but never quite did. every corner was curated, from the marble countertops to the velvet sectional sofa that sat untouched most days. everything looked perfect, yet the emptiness inside you felt sharper here, in this space that was too big for just one person.

your parents hadn’t been to your apartment, hadn’t seen this life you had built for yourself. not that they cared to. you hadn’t spoken to them in months, not since they’d made it clear that your choice to model, rather than pursue law, was unforgivable. their silence hung over you like a cloud, heavy and oppressive, yet familiar. you were used to being left behind. your father’s words still echoed in your head, dismissive and final, “you’re wasting your potential.” your mother hadn’t said anything at all—her disapproval was cold, passive, like she had washed her hands of you.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, hands delicately applying makeup with a precision you had perfected over the years. the foundation smoothed over your skin, covering every flaw, creating the illusion of perfection you’d mastered long ago. the emptiness in your chest collided with the fullness of your apartment—so much space, so little meaning. it felt like you had filled your life with things, with a career that demanded all of you, and yet somehow you remained empty inside, hollowed out by the silence from the people who should have cared the most. your hands moved almost mechanically as you styled your hair, pulling it into loose waves that fell over your shoulders in soft, effortless curls. your outfit for the night was simple but striking—an off-the-shoulder black dress that hugged your frame, the fabric slinking around your body like it was made for you. it was elegant, understated, but you knew it would turn heads. you always turned heads.

as you stepped out of your apartment and into the waiting car, you felt a strange sense of detachment. the city lights blurred outside the tinted windows, a constant stream of life and movement, yet you felt removed from it all. the car ride to the bar was short, but the knot of anxiety in your stomach twisted tighter with each passing minute. you weren’t sure what tonight would bring, but something told you things were about to change. jaehyun was supposed to meet you, introduce you to your new manager. the thought made you feel uneasy.

when the car pulled up to the bar, you were immediately greeted by the flash of cameras. it never ceased to unnerve you, the sudden explosion of light, the shouts from photographers who called your name like they knew you. you squinted against the brightness, stepping out of the car as gracefully as you could manage, though the onslaught of attention left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. you half-expected jaehyun to come out and handle the situation, to shield you like he always did, but he didn’t. the door to the bar opened, and for a brief moment, you thought it was him. but it wasn’t.

instead, a man appeared, a bit shorter than jaehyun but striking in his own way. he wore a leather jacket rather than jaehyun’s usual denim, the dark material catching the light in a way that made him look almost dangerous. his jawline was sharper, more distinct, and his dark hair was swept down in front, framing his forehead. his eyes met yours, and there was something in the way he looked at you—something unreadable, intense. he didn’t say a word as he approached, discarding his jacket and spreading it open to shield you from the cameras. his movements were smooth, confident, as he draped the jacket over your shoulders and guided you inside. the warmth of the leather was a stark contrast to the cold, clinical detachment you’d felt all evening.

“who are you?” you asked, your voice soft but firm, laced with confusion. his eyes stayed locked on yours, his gaze steady, unreadable. “mark lee,” he said, his tone calm, measured. he paused, and for a moment, you thought he might say more, but instead, he let the silence hang between you. then, as if deciding to answer the question you hadn’t asked, he added, “i’m your new manager. didn’t jaehyun tell you?”

your heart sank slightly, the pieces falling into place—he was the one jaehyun had spoken about. mark studied your face as though he were trying to read you, to understand something you hadn’t yet said. a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, almost amused by your reaction. “it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said softly. you blinked, unsure of how to respond. the words you spoke felt disconnected from the thoughts in your mind. “the pleasure’s all mine,” you mumbled, though the uncertainty in your voice betrayed you.

mark’s gaze lingered a second longer before he turned, leading you further inside, away from the flashes of the cameras. the air inside the bar was warmer, thick with the chatter of people and the clinking of glasses, but you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that had settled in your chest. even as he guided you to a table, the leather of his jacket still draped over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was shifting beneath your feet. and you weren’t sure you liked it.

the bar was vaguely lit, the low hum of conversation blending with the soft clink of glasses. a few members of the team were already gathered around a table near the back, the familiar faces of the makeup artist, the stylist, and the photographer who had been on set earlier. they greeted you with warm smiles and the easy familiarity of people who had spent long hours together under bright studio lights. it was strange how these people had become your family of sorts, even if it wasn’t a family you had chosen.

jaehyun spotted you first, standing up with that easy grin of his, arms already open for a hug. “there she is,” he murmured, pulling you in tightly. his embrace was warm and comforting, but the knowledge that this might be one of the last times he’d be there for you made it bittersweet. “have you met your new manager yet?” he asked as he released you, his eyes glancing over at mark, who stood just a few steps behind you.

you nodded, unsure of what to say, the words getting caught somewhere between your mind and your mouth. you could still feel the weight of mark’s jacket on your shoulders, the leather warm against your skin, grounding you as you stood between the two men. you wanted to say something that sounded more certain, but you were scared of how it might come out—scared it might sound like you didn’t want this. mark stepped forward, a casual confidence in his movements. “she ran into a bit of paparazzi trouble outside,” he said with a slight chuckle, as if it was nothing new.

jaehyun clapped him on the back, laughing. “always on duty, huh? you must have eyes everywhere.” mark grinned, his laugh coming easy. “you have no idea.”

he pulled out a chair for you, the gesture small but thoughtful, as he motioned for you to sit between him and jaehyun. as you lowered yourself into the seat, your eyes met his for a moment, and there was something in the way he smiled at you that eased the tension in your chest just a little bit. you settled in, the low buzz of the bar around you offering some comfort, though you still couldn’t shake the feeling of change looming in the air. the drinks came quickly—classic cocktails, neat whiskey, and bottles of soju. jaehyun was the first to raise his glass, and you followed suit. “i’m going to miss having soju while i’m away,” he said with a sigh, swirling the glass in his hand.

you clinked your glass against his, a smile tugging at your lips. “we’ll drink it in your honor.” he laughed, and as you turned to clink your glass with mark’s, your eyes met his again. he smiled back at you, that same easy warmth from earlier. for a second, you forgot about the looming goodbye, about the shift that was about to happen. you let yourself smile, feeling a strange sense of calm in the moment. the drinks were strong, stronger than you’d realized at first. the warmth of the alcohol spread through your chest, loosening the tightness in your muscles, and you allowed yourself to relax into the night. laughter flowed easily among the group, the conversation light and comfortable, even as the weight of jaehyun’s upcoming departure lingered on the edges.

but eventually, the night began to wind down. one by one, the team started to tap out, heading home with promises of seeing each other soon. jaehyun was the last to stand, his expression softening as he looked at you. “i’ve gotta head out. my flight’s tomorrow,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of the goodbye that neither of you wanted to say.

you stood with him, the alcohol making you feel just tipsy enough that the world seemed to blur a little around the edges. as you hugged him, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around you, and you realized just how much you were going to miss him. “mark will take good care of you,” he whispered, his voice low and reassuring. all you could do was nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. he pulled away, giving you one last look before turning to leave. you watched him go, the door closing behind him with a finality that made your heart sink.

you sat back down, the world feeling a little off-kilter now that jaehyun was gone. the noise of the bar seemed distant, the voices around you a dull hum. but then you felt a reassuring hand on your shoulder, and when you turned, you found mark looking at you, his expression gentle. “i know you aren’t thrilled about this,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “but he’ll be back.”

you nodded, trying to steady the emotions swirling in your chest. “don’t be offended,” you said, your words a little slurred from the alcohol. “i must sound like an asshole. i’ve just known jay a long time.” mark laughed softly, shaking his head. “the models i work with are usually blunt and awful. you’re like a breath of fresh air.”

your heart fluttered at his words, though you weren’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or something else. either way, you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a blush you couldn’t quite control. “really?” you asked, your voice soft. he nodded, taking a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. “yeah. it’s hard to meet someone genuine like that.” it caught you off guard, the way he said it. he hadn’t called you hot or beautiful—the usual compliments that were thrown at you without much thought. he hadn’t treated you like you were something to admire from a distance, something polished and perfect. he thought you were genuine. nice, even. and for the first time in what felt like forever, something mattered other than how you looked.

mark stood outside the bar with you, his hand wrapped loosely around his phone as he called for a cab. the air was cool, the kind of breeze that bit at your skin just enough to remind you you’d had too much to drink. the world felt like it was swaying beneath you, the soft blur of neon lights and city sounds blending into the haze of alcohol that had settled deep into your bones. you barely noticed the cab pulling up, but mark did. he grimaced the moment he saw the driver, his jaw tightening as he clocked the smirk tugging at the corners of the man’s lips.

“stay here,” he murmured, his voice low as he helped you toward the back seat, his hand resting at the small of your back to steady you. the driver’s smirk grew as you stumbled slightly, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. mark’s patience snapped, his eyes narrowing into a glare that could cut through steel. Without a word, he climbed into the cab beside you, his presence filling the small space in an instant. the driver’s smirk faltered, his bravado crumbling under the weight of mark’s glare, and he turned his eyes to the road, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“how much has she had to drink?” the driver asked, his tone casual, though there was an undercurrent of something slimy beneath it, something that made mark’s blood boil. “you’re being paid to drive, not make small talk,” mark snapped, his voice sharp enough to make the driver flinch. silence fell over the cab, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional shuffle of the tires against the pavement. you, oblivious to the tension, rested your head back, your eyes fluttering closed as the night swirled around you. you were out of it, the world fading in and out, each moment blurred by the alcohol in your system. you didn’t notice the way mark was watching you, his gaze softening, his features smoothing as he made sure you were okay.

if you had been more aware, you might have seen it for yourself—something tender in the way he looked at you, something protective. it wasn’t the predatory gaze you had come to expect from men, the one that made you feel small and vulnerable, like something to be taken. no, this was different. this gaze made you feel watched over, cared for. like, for the first time, you weren’t alone. “you’re taking me home?” you slurred, your voice breaking through the fog as you turned to him, disrupting his thoughts. mark glanced down at you, his brow furrowing for a second before he nodded. “yeah,” he said softly, “gonna make sure you get there safely, then i’ll head back.”

you frowned, your eyes half-lidded as you tried to focus on him. “you’re being too nice,” you murmured, your words a little wobbly, childlike. he chuckled, the sound low and rich, a warmth that spread through your chest despite the alcohol’s numbing grip. “this is just the tip of the iceberg,” he replied, teasing but gentle. the cab pulled over in front of your building, the harsh overhead light inside flickering slightly as mark handed the driver his money, glaring one last time before slamming the door shut behind him. he helped you out, his arm around your waist as he guided you toward the entrance. you leaned into him, your steps unsteady, but his grip was firm, holding you upright, never letting you fall.

when you reached your apartment door, you fumbled for your keys, your fingers clumsy as they searched through your bag. you couldn’t find them, frustration bubbling up in your chest, but before you could say anything, he reached in and pulled the keys out for you. he unlocked the door, holding it open as you stumbled inside, expecting—fearing—that this was when things would change. this was when history would repeat itself, when he would become just like the others, just like every man who had ever taken advantage of you in your weakest moments. but it never happened.

instead, he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt both firm and soft, his warmth seeping into your skin. the scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of alcohol, filling your senses. there was no pressure in the way he held you, no expectation. just comfort. when he pulled away, he bent slightly at the knees, his eyes level with yours as he spoke, his voice soft but clear. “get some rest, okay?” he said, pausing as his gaze flickered over your face. “we have work tomorrow.”

you nodded, your body too tired, too heavy to respond with anything more. he gave you one final smile, that same smile that had put you at ease earlier in the night, and then he turned on his heel, walking away without looking back. you stood there in your apartment, the door closing softly behind him, your mind struggling to piece together what had just happened. you had expected a lot, but not this. not someone who cared without asking for anything in return. not someone who saw you for more than just how you looked.

the pounding in your head felt like it would split your skull in two. you groaned, dragging yourself upright, the weight of exhaustion heavy in your limbs. the throbbing didn’t let up as you stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in a futile attempt to chase away the hangover. the mirror reflected a face you barely recognized—dark circles under your eyes, skin pale and drawn. it was a far cry from the pristine, polished image you had to maintain in front of the cameras. right now, you were just tired. so tired.

you grabbed the bottle of painkillers from the medicine cabinet, shaking two pills into your hand and downing them with a gulp of water. the cold liquid soothed your dry throat, but it did little to chase away the hollow ache settling in your chest. you drank another glass, hoping it would make you feel less fragile, less breakable. your hands trembled as you set the glass down, the weight of the night before pressing on you, heavy and inescapable.

you wandered back to your bed, sinking into the comfort of the soft sheets, pulling them around you as if they could shield you from the world. but the world had already broken in. with a sigh, you reached for your phone, not ready but too curious to resist. you needed a distraction, something to pull you out of this haze. but as the screen lit up, you felt your stomach lurch. the first headline caught your eye, and the blood drained from your face as you read it.

your dark past—an anonymous ex airing out the ugly details of a relationship you thought you had buried years ago. the words stared back at you, cold and unforgiving, and each one cut deeper than the last. attention-seeking slut, slept her way through the scene and life itself. the accusations swirled around you, each one a dagger to the chest, every headline worse than the one before. it felt like the world was closing in, shrinking around you until there was nowhere left to hide.

you scrolled through the article, your hands shaking, your breath coming faster as the memories you had tried so hard to forget were dragged back into the light. this was worse than anything you could’ve imagined. you had been bracing yourself for the usual scandals—the kind of things models made headlines for. a wardrobe malfunction, a bad night out, maybe a ridiculous diet rumor. but this? this felt personal. too personal. and the worst part was, it was all out there, for everyone to see. you kept scrolling, hoping there was some way to stop the flood of accusations, but it didn’t stop. it never did. your heart pounded in your chest as the articles piled on, one after another, each one worse than the last. you reached the bottom of the page, bracing yourself for another wave of vitriol—but what you found was something different.

a response from your company. you froze, your breath catching in your throat as you saw the name attached to the statement—mark lee. your fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before you clicked. his words were like a lifeline, pulling you out of the darkness for just a second. “her past has nothing to do with her present, her career or her heart,” he had stated firmly. “anyone making defamatory statements will face legal action.”

it was a short, direct statement, but it hit you like a bolt of lightning. mark had acted fast—so fast that it stunned you. you hadn’t even had the chance to process what was happening, but he had already stepped in to protect you, to shield you from the fallout. your company hadn’t hung you out to dry. he hadn’t hung you out to dry. and it wasn’t even morning yet. you let the phone slip from your hand, your heart still racing, but for a different reason now. mark hadn’t just stood by and watched as your name got dragged through the mud. he had taken action, defended you without hesitation. the weight of last night’s events came rushing back—the way he’d walked you home, the way he had been so kind, so careful, without expecting anything in return. and now, this.

how had he managed to do it so quickly, without so much as a second thought? how had he known to step in before things got even worse? you didn’t know, but what you did know was that mark wasn’t like the others. he wasn’t just your new manager. he was someone who had your back. the room felt too quiet, too still, as you lay there, staring up at the ceiling. you couldn’t believe this was the impression you were leaving behind—a model being defended for her humanity rather than her appearance. a woman with someone in her corner, fighting for her, when she had never expected it.

you pulled the front door shut behind you, squinting at the early morning sun filtering through the leaves, casting soft dappled light across the pavement. you adjusted your sunglasses, preparing yourself for the day, your mind still tangled with the weight of the headlines and mark’s words from last night. but as you stepped down the front stairs, something caught your eye—a car parked just a few feet away. the sleek black paint gleamed under the sunlight, and as your eyes adjusted, you saw him. mark, leaning casually against the hood, a small, gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. “you look like you could use a ride,” he said, his voice carrying over the stillness of the morning.

your heart fluttered, the ease in his tone making the heaviness in your chest feel a little lighter. was it possible for someone to be this kind, this genuine, without asking for anything in return? you hesitated for a moment, still unsure, still caught in the confusion of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. “are you sure?” you asked, trying to mask the uncertainty in your voice. mark rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, but that smile never wavered. “just get in,” he said, moving to the passenger side and pulling the door open for you. he gestured toward the seat, a playful look in his eyes, like he couldn’t understand why you were hesitating.

you gave in, sliding into the car, letting the plush leather seat envelop you. the inside was immaculate—black leather, clean lines, the scent of something warm and subtle, maybe sandalwood, lingering in the air. it was the kind of car that screamed understated elegance, not the flashy, attention-grabbing kind you were used to seeing in this city. everything about it felt intentional, like mark himself, composed and thoughtful without ever needing to prove anything.

as he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine, you kept your gaze forward, unable to meet his eyes. shame clung to you like a second skin, the weight of yesterday’s headlines still too fresh. but you could feel his eyes on you, watching you in that quiet, gentle way that made you feel both seen and safe. the silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words, until mark’s voice broke through. “you saw, didn’t you?” his tone was soft, almost apologetic, like he wished you didn’t have to bear the weight of it.

you swallowed hard, your throat tight as you nodded. “thank you,” you murmured, surprising yourself with how much you meant it. “i’m sorry you had to see those comments.” he paused, pulling out of the driveway, his eyes flicking toward you for a moment before returning to the road. “i can’t believe you’re the one apologizing,” he said, his voice laced with disbelief.

you frowned, confused by his response. “you were the one who had to deal with it,” you said, your voice a little firmer now. “you had to read those comments, engage with them.” mark glanced at you again, just for a second, but there was something in his gaze—something that made your heart ache, though you couldn’t quite place why. “you’re the one they were talking about,” he said quietly, the weight of his words sinking into the air between you.

you bit your lip, the familiar shame rising in your chest. “they didn’t lie about much,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. mark’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “what do you mean?” your fingers fidgeted in your lap, the memories of your past flickering in your mind like painful old photographs. “i slept around when i was younger,” you said, the words tasting bitter as they left your mouth. “i was ashamed. thought i was being loved, but it was the opposite.”

the silence that followed felt deafening. you braced yourself, preparing for the inevitable—a lecture, a judgment, the same disgust you had faced so many times before. you could almost hear the harsh words before they even came, could feel the sting of the shame that would follow. but instead, what came was something else entirely. “so what?” mark asked, his tone matter-of-fact, as if it were the most inconsequential thing in the world. you blinked, your breath catching in your throat. “what?” you asked, your voice small, barely able to comprehend what you had just heard.

he shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “you live, you learn. you make mistakes and move on from them. what about it? why would i hate you for it instead of hunting down those assholes one by one?” you were shocked. completely and utterly floored. you had spent so long believing that your past made you disgusting, that no one could ever look at you the same if they knew. and yet here was mark, looking at you like none of it mattered—like none of it could ever change how he saw you.

“you don’t think i’m disgusting?” you asked, your voice breaking just a little, your heart in your throat. he let out a dry laugh, the kind that held no real humor, only disbelief. “i could never think that about you,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a balm. the tears that had been threatening to spill over finally broke free, but this time they weren’t out of shame. for the first time in a long time, they were tears of relief. a small smile broke through the sadness, and you turned your head to the window, letting the tears fall in silence, feeling something you hadn’t felt in years.

mark’s presence felt like a shield as the crowd of paparazzi closed in around you, their cameras flashing incessantly. you could feel their hands tugging at your sleeves, jostling to get closer, to snap that perfect shot. their voices were a blur, shouting questions, making demands, their lights blinding you through your sunglasses. you froze, feeling trapped in the chaos, your breath catching in your throat.

but he was there, right beside you, his body tense and protective. his arm wrapped around you, and with a low, dangerous tone, he snapped, “back off.” his patience seemed to have worn thin, and his words cut through the air like a knife. the paparazzi hesitated, a few taking a step back, but some were still relentless. mark didn’t falter. he shifted, his hand moving to shield your face from the barrage of cameras, guiding you firmly toward the studio door. no one was getting a glimpse of you—not today, not like this.

by the time you made it inside, your head was spinning, your heart pounding in your chest. you felt exposed, even though he had done everything he could to protect you. as the door clicked shut behind you, the noise from outside was silenced, leaving only the soft hum of the studio’s air conditioning and the quiet, comforting sound of mark’s breathing beside you. “thank you,” you murmured, your voice small, barely audible. his smile was soft, but it reached his eyes as he reached up, gently sliding your sunglasses to the top of your head. his fingers brushed your hair back, and then, with the same tenderness, he removed the mask from your face, revealing the features you’d hidden from the world. “look at you,” he said quietly, his voice warm, “so pretty.”

it was a compliment, but not the kind that made you feel objectified or cheapened. it wasn’t the kind of praise you’d grown accustomed to—words that were always laced with lust, with ulterior motives. this felt different. it felt sweet, genuine. you smiled, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little as you savored the softness of his touch. before you could respond, the director called you into the room. you walked together, side by side, mark never leaving your side. his hand hovered protectively at your back, tracing small, soothing circles that grounded you. the nerves that had gripped you so tightly just moments ago began to ease, the tension in your shoulders melting away with each gentle motion.

as you entered the room, the director didn’t waste any time. “so, about the scandal,” he began, his voice clinical, detached, like it was just another problem to solve. “we need to do damage control.” his gaze flickered between you and mark, and you could feel the weight of his scrutiny. “what do you have in mind?” mark asked, his voice calm, though you could sense the tension simmering beneath the surface.

the director’s next words were like a punch to the gut. “a blind date,” he said, his tone as if it were the most logical solution in the world. “with someone just as famous and prestigious. it’ll take the heat off the story.” your heart sank, your throat closing up. you wanted to object, to say something, anything, but your voice betrayed you. you couldn’t get the words out. why was it always like this? why did you always lose your voice when men made decisions about your life? why did you always fall first, always bend to their will?

but this time, mark spoke up for you. “no,” he said firmly, his voice filled with quiet conviction. “she’s not gonna do that.” the director shot him a sharp glance, his brow furrowing in annoyance. “what makes you so sure?” he asked, a hint of challenge in his voice.

he scoffed, the warmth in his expression fading as his hand dropped from your back. “i’m her manager,” he said, his tone cold. “i’m not gonna let you pimp her out to the press over a scandal.” you blinked, stunned by his words. you tugged at his sleeve, trying to get him to stop, terrified that he was digging his own grave by standing up for you. you couldn’t bear the thought of him losing everything because of you, of him falling short just like everyone else had. but he didn’t budge. the director removed his glasses, staring him down. “watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low. “you’re only here because of jaehyun.”

mark smiled, but it wasn’t the warm, playful smile he usually gave you. it was something harder, more condescending, though when he looked at you, that hardness softened. “i’m not,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “i’m here because of her.” his words made your heart skip a beat, a smile tugging at your lips despite the tension in the room.

the director scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “is that so?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. when mark simply nodded in response, the director leaned back in his chair, considering for a moment before speaking again. “fine. then you’ll date her. make it convincing for the cameras.” shock washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless. your eyes widened, your mind reeling. date him? publicly? it was absurd, and yet you couldn’t find your voice to object. you were frozen in place, trying to process what had just been said.

the director dismissed you both with a wave of his hand, as though you were mere pawns in his game. as you left the room, you could feel the anger radiating off mark. not at you, never at you, but at the way the director had reduced you to a tool, something to be used for publicity. it made his blood boil, and you could see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “i’m sorry,” he said as you walked down the hallway together, his voice low, filled with frustration.

you stopped, turning to face him. “you gotta stop apologizing,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “i’d rather be your fake girlfriend than anyone else’s.” his lips curved into a small, almost sad smile, but it wasn’t convincing. you could see the guilt still weighing on him, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. but he nodded, accepting your words, even if he couldn’t fully believe them himself. and despite everything, despite the absurdity of the situation, you couldn’t help but smile, too.

the photoshoot dawned bright and clear, the studio awash with sunlight that filtered through large, high windows. the space was a hive of activity, filled with the muted hum of chatter and the clinking of equipment. the walls were adorned with a pristine white backdrop that could be transformed into any setting the imagination could conjure. spotlights were carefully positioned to cast a flattering glow, creating a perfect balance between shadow and light.

you arrived once more feeling a mix of trepidation and anticipation. the scandal was still fresh, its edges raw and jagged, but you tried to set it aside, focusing on the task ahead. the concept for the shoot was a glamorous vintage look—a nostalgic nod to the old hollywood starlets, with a modern twist. the wardrobe was exquisite: a shimmering gown in deep emerald green that hugged your figure before flaring out into a dramatic skirt. the bodice was adorned with delicate beadwork that caught the light with every movement, creating a subtle sparkle that seemed to dance across your skin. your hair was styled in voluminous waves, cascading down your back with a glossy sheen. the makeup was equally flawless—classic winged eyeliner and a nude lip, complemented by a subtle, radiant glow on your cheeks. as you stepped in front of the camera, you felt the energy of the room shift. the crew's murmurs fell silent as they focused on their work, adjusting lights and angles to best capture the vision. mark was there, of course, standing just off to the side. his gaze was fixed on you, and in that moment, it felt as though he was the only person in the room who truly saw you.

the photographer directed you with practiced ease, calling for different poses and expressions. you moved fluidly, slipping into character with a grace that felt almost effortless. the camera clicked rhythmically, its shutter capturing each fleeting moment of your performance. you felt a growing confidence, bolstered by the soft, encouraging murmurs from the crew.

throughout it all, mark’s eyes never strayed from you. his gaze was unwavering, filled with a tenderness that spoke volumes. it wasn’t just that he was watching; he was absorbing, cherishing each glance, each expression. his eyes held a warmth that transcended mere admiration. there was a softness, a depth that suggested he saw something in you that went beyond the surface, beyond the glittering gown and the carefully applied makeup. as the photographer called for a brief break, he approached, his footsteps light, his expression a mix of admiration and something deeper.

he reached out, gently adjusting a stray strand of hair from your face with a touch that was both respectful and intimate. “you’re doing incredible,” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm against the backdrop of the studio’s ambient noise. “you’ve got this natural grace about you.” his words were more than just praise; they were a recognition of your essence, of the way you moved and carried yourself. you could see it in his eyes—his admiration was palpable, sincere. it was a gaze that lingered with affection, with a hint of something that bordered on reverence.

the photographer resumed the shoot, and with each click of the camera, mark’s gaze followed, unwavering. there was no objectification in his stare, no hint of lust or superficial desire. instead, it was as though he was seeing you for who you truly were—a person who, despite the chaos and scandal, was captivating, beautiful, and worthy of admiration. there was someone who saw past the headlines and the flashing cameras, who saw you as more than just a face on a magazine cover.

when the session finally concluded, and you stepped away from the set, you felt a profound sense of relief and accomplishment. mark was there to offer you a genuine smile, one that spoke of pride and support. “you were amazing today,” he said, his voice laced with admiration. “i’m really proud of you.” you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a warmth spread through you that had little to do with the shoot and everything to do with the way he looked at you.

“so, see you tomorrow?” he asked, his tone warm, laced with a hint of casual curiosity. you hesitated, a fleeting moment of uncertainty crossing your mind. “actually,” you began, “would you like to get lunch with me now? i mean, if you’re not too busy, of course.” you trailed off, feeling a pang of self-consciousness. “i don’t want to impose or sound desperate,” you added quickly, feeling the need to clarify.

mark’s smile widened, a reassuring glimmer in his eyes. “i’d love to,” he replied. “it’s no imposition at all. let’s go.” you felt a wave of relief wash over you as he guided you towards his car. outside, the sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden hue over the city streets. mark’s car—a sleek, black luxury sedan with tinted windows—stood out in the midst of the bustling parking lot. it had an understated elegance, the kind that spoke of both comfort and refinement. the interior was plush, with leather seats that exuded a sense of sophistication.

he opened the door for you and, once you were settled inside, slid into the driver’s seat with practiced ease. his movements were smooth and confident, and as he started the engine, you noticed his demeanor had shifted. he was more focused, more protective, shielding you from the cameras that lingered at the studio’s entrance. his eyes remained sharp, scanning the area to ensure you weren’t bothered.

the drive to the restaurant was marked by a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional hum of street traffic. mark took a scenic route, passing through tree-lined streets and past elegant boutiques, showcasing a side of the city that felt both serene and refined. you glanced at him occasionally, catching glimpses of his profile illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights.

eventually, you arrived at a spot tucked away in a quieter part of the city. its exterior was a blend of modern chic and classic charm, with large windows framed by delicate drapery and a welcoming sign that hinted at the warm atmosphere inside. mark escorted you in, and the hostess, recognizing him, offered a discreet nod and led you to a cozy corner table away from the prying eyes of the street. the restaurant exuded a quiet elegance—soft ambient lighting, tasteful decor featuring muted colors, and a faint, inviting aroma of gourmet dishes being prepared. as you settled into your seat, mark pulled out a chair for you with a courteous gesture, his attention never straying far from you.

over the course of the meal, the conversation flowed easily. his presence was soothing, and his attentive listening made you feel at ease. the menu offered a range of refined dishes, and you both opted for light, comforting fare—fresh salads, tender grilled fish, and a selection of artisanal bread. the food was delicious, but it was the company that truly made the experience special. as you ate, you found yourself opening up to mark in a way you hadn’t anticipated. “you know,” you began, your voice tentative but earnest, “i’ve been used all my life. it’s like people see me as something to exploit, and it’s only made them think less of me.”

mark’s eyes softened as he listened, his gaze attentive and caring. he didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to offer empty reassurances. instead, he simply took in your words, his expression reflecting a mix of empathy and understanding. “i’m sorry you’ve had to go through that,” he said quietly. “no one deserves to be treated that way.”

you felt a lump form in your throat as his words sank in. the vulnerability you had shared was met with genuine compassion, something you hadn’t expected. mark reached across the table, his hand extending to yours with a tender, reassuring touch. “use me,” he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. “use me until you love yourself.”

you were stunned, the weight of his words leaving you momentarily speechless. the promise in his voice was profound, a gesture of support that went beyond mere words. you stared at him, trying to process the depth of his offer. but before you could respond, his hands enveloped yours in a gentle embrace. in that moment, you were acutely aware of the contrast between the performance you had to put on and the genuine connection you were experiencing. the touch of his hands, the way he stroked your fingers with a tenderness that was both comforting and intimate, spoke of something deeper. it was as though the boundaries of your staged relationship were dissolving, giving way to a reality that was more genuine than you had anticipated.

the conversation continued, but the focus shifted to lighter topics. you both shared stories and laughter, the tension of the earlier events seeming to melt away. mark’s presence was a balm, soothing your frayed nerves and providing a sense of security you hadn’t known you needed. as the meal came to an end, he paid the bill, his hand still holding yours as you walked out. the sun had set, and the city lights were beginning to twinkle, casting a warm glow over the streets. you were acutely aware of the contrast between the authenticity of your time with him and the world outside, which seemed to linger with its judgment and scrutiny.

when you reached his car, he opened the door for you once more, his touch gentle and respectful. as you settled back into the plush interior, you couldn’t help but reflect on the day’s events. the lines between your staged relationship and the genuine affection you felt were blurring, and while you knew that you were still performing for the cameras, the moments of sincerity you shared with him were undeniable.

as he drove you back to your house, the evening air outside was crisp, a gentle reminder that the day was drawing to a close. the glow of streetlights cast a warm, comforting light through the windows of the car, creating a cocoon of serenity around you both. the drive was quiet, filled with a comfortable silence that spoke volumes more than words could. when you arrived at your front door, he walked with you, his presence a steady comfort against the backdrop of your otherwise solitary home. the hallway was lit, adding a soft ambiance to the moment. he stopped at your door, his expression softening into a genuine smile as he wished you a good night.

but as he turned on his heel to leave, something inside you surged—a reluctance to let him go, a sudden, overwhelming desire for him to stay. “wait,” you called out, your voice barely above a whisper. “spend the night.”

mark paused, his demeanor shifting as he turned back towards you. the smile on his face faltered, and his gaze became serious, filled with a mixture of tenderness and something you couldn’t quite place. “i can’t do that,” he said softly, almost apologetically. your heart sank. Were you so off-putting to him? was he so disgusted by you that he couldn’t even stay? the thought pierced you, and you had to ask, “why?”

his eyes met yours, and despite the gentleness that still lingered, there was an undertone of something raw and sincere. “because,” he began, taking a step closer, “i don’t think i’ll be able to control myself if i do.”

the distance between you was minimal now, so close that you could almost feel the heat radiating off him. his proximity made your heart race, the thump in your chest loud enough that you thought he might hear it. you swallowed hard, struggling to understand why you felt this way, why he was so close yet seemingly so far. “there are no cameras,” you reminded him, your voice trembling slightly as you attempted to reassure him of the privacy you both had.

mark chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that made your breath catch. “i don’t care about the cameras,” he said, his voice a soothing murmur. “it’s not about that.” the weight of his words, the gentle touch, and the unspoken emotions that seemed to fill the space between you made you feel a sudden surge of vulnerability. you hated yourself for feeling so exposed, for being so willing to give in, to risk it all, and to let someone see you so completely.

in that vulnerable moment, driven by an impulse you couldn’t quite control, you closed the distance between you and pressed your lips to his. it was a kiss filled with raw emotion, a desperate plea for connection. to your surprise, mark’s response wasn’t fueled by lust or urgency. Instead, his kiss was tender, patient, as though he was savoring every second. his hands cupped your face with a gentle care, his lips moving against yours with a softness that spoke of deep affection rather than fleeting desire.

when he finally pulled away, it was with a smile that seemed to reflect genuine fondness. “look at you,” he cooed, his fingers lightly ruffling your hair. “so cute.” you frowned slightly, still trying to process the unexpected tenderness. as he leaned against the doorway, his smile widening, you asked, “are you gonna leave?”

mark shook his head, his eyes gleaming with a playful warmth. “no way,” he murmured, his voice filled with determination. “someone has to make sure you get some rest.” the way he spoke, the care in his actions, almost felt surreal. it was as if the affection he showed was almost too good to be true. yet, as he stepped inside, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, you felt the house grow warmer, more inviting with his presence.

he watched you from the couch as you moved around the kitchen, preparing tea. the dim light from the overhead fixture cast a soft glow over you, highlighting the delicate way your hands trembled as you worked. he noticed how thin you looked, the hollowness of your cheeks and the way your clothes hung loosely on your frame. it made him wonder whether this was always the way you were or if it was a consequence of the relentless demands of your career.

“do you need help?” he asked, his voice filled with concern as he stood up and walked toward you. the distance between you seemed to shrink with every step he took. as he approached, he gently took hold of your wrists, guiding your hands to pour the boiling water over the tea bags. the warmth of the steam contrasted sharply with the coldness he felt in his chest as he observed your fragile state.

you turned to face him as you finished, giving him a soft, appreciative smile. “thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. he could see the tremors in your hands, which you tried to hide by gripping the mug tightly. “you’re shaking,” he said gently. “shouldn’t you eat more?”

a sad smile crossed your lips as you shrugged. “i should be eating less.” mark’s smile faded, and he set the mugs back on the table with a determined clink. the realization hit him hard, the idea that you were expected to adhere to a standard that demanded you to shrink, not only in size but in presence. it was unfathomable to him that someone as perfect as you should be subjected to such dehumanizing expectations.

“why did you take up such a job?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration and concern. as you sipped your tea, you reflected on the question, your eyes distant as if searching for the right words. “everybody likes the surface,” you said, your smile fragile. “nobody cares about what goes beyond it. it’s always been like that, so i may as well get some money out of it.”

mark’s heart ached at the thought of you being reduced to eye candy, your worth dictated by your appearance rather than your true self. the notion that your life’s goal was to be admired rather than valued for who you were made him sick. “quit your job,” he said abruptly, the words escaping before he could fully process them. you looked at him in shock, the tea still hot on your tongue. “are you crazy?” you asked, incredulous.

he shook his head, his expression earnest but troubled. “quit your job,” he repeated. “you should be doing something you love instead of being everything you hate about yourself.” his words carried a raw truth that stung deeply. no one had ever told you to quit before; it had always been about encouragement, about pushing through. his opposition was startling because it was clear he saw you for more than just your looks, something no one else had done. it clicked for you then—mark was the only person who seemed to understand and care about the essence of who you were beyond the superficial.

“you mean it?” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mixture of hope and disbelief. he didn’t answer with words but instead set his tea down and leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle kiss. the contact was so tender that it made your knees weak, tears threatening to spill over. it was a kiss devoid of urgency, filled with care and an earnest desire to comfort.

when he finally pulled away, his frown deepened at the sight of your tear-filled eyes. “how could anyone be cruel to you?” he murmured, his voice filled with sorrow. “so cruel that you cry at the slightest affection?”

your tears began to fall freely, unable to hold them back any longer. mark, seeing the depth of your pain, gathered you into his arms without hesitation. “don’t cry,” he whispered, though it was the exact thing that made you let go, burying your face in his chest as the tears flowed. he held you tightly, his arms a sanctuary from the world’s cruelties. cry, he thought, let it all out. as if sensing his silent encouragement, you did just that, clinging to him as you let your emotions pour out. for the first time, you felt truly cared for, not for how you looked but for who you were.

as you pulled back from him, your eyes still glistening with the remnants of tears, he reached up with his rough fingers to tenderly brush them away. his touch was surprisingly gentle, the contrast between the coarseness of his hands and the softness of his touch creating an intimacy that felt both intimate and profound. small, reassuring smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked at you, his gaze filled with an affection that was deeply comforting.

you leaned in to kiss him again, but this time, it was different. the kiss was infused with a hunger that transcended the need for love or the fear of loneliness. it was driven by a genuine feeling of being cherished, an intensity that came from truly feeling valued. the kiss full of passion, and you could hear the heavy breaths escaping from him, proof of the fervor that both of you were experiencing. despite the heat between you, mark pulled away, his face flushed, and his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“don’t,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, their closeness adding to the depth of his emotions. the word was almost a plea, a desperate attempt to maintain control despite the overwhelming feelings. you frowned, confused and yearning for more. “why?” you asked, your voice laced with vulnerability.

he shook his head, his fingers gently stroking your hair in a soothing motion. “i don’t wanna be like them,” he whispered. “i don’t wanna break you.”

the sincerity in his voice was audible, his hesitation evident in the way he caressed your hair. the thought of him being so considerate, so concerned about not causing you pain, only made you feel even more secure and cherished. you took a step back, but his fingers remained entangled in your hair, a subtle reminder of his presence and his care. “break me,” you encouraged softly, your eyes locked onto his. “i’m yours to break.”

the words hung in the air, laden with an openness that surprised even yourself. mark’s hesitation deepened. he was overwhelmed by your fragility, the softness in your eyes, and the way you looked at him with such trust. he didn’t want to cause you any harm, didn’t want you to feel used or sullied. “i don’t want you to feel used,” he admitted, his voice betraying his internal conflict. the tenderness in his voice and the way he looked at you with such genuine concern only made you feel more at ease. you didn’t respond verbally; instead, you kissed him again, your hands exploring the contours of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the fabric.

his resolve wavered as he felt the intensity of your touch. his initial urge to hold back dissolved as you made it difficult for him to resist. his arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap, never breaking the kiss. in his mind, he battled with the thought of being gentle versus the desire to give in fully to the moment. his struggle was open, yet he knew he could be gentle, that he could offer you the care and affection you deserved. his thoughts raced as he navigated this delicate balance, his love and concern for you making him want to be as gentle as possible while also embracing the passion that surged between you.

his hands moved from your hair to your shoulders, then down to your breasts, cupping the small mounds of flesh tenderly. you gasped into the kiss as his thumbs brushed over your sensitive nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. his touch grew bolder, kneading and caressing, as you arched into his palms, your desire growing more urgent. the fabric of your shirt was the only barrier, and it was clear that it wouldn’t be enough for much longer.

mark felt your urgency, and his own desire grew stronger. he broke the kiss to gaze into your eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation or fear. all he saw was the same trust and need that had been there before. with trembling hands, he began to unbutton your shirt, one button at a time, his eyes never leaving yours. the anticipation was present, a heady mix of excitement and emotion that made your heart race. as he undid the last button, his eyes shamefully drifted to the sides of your shirt covering your bare breasts, but he didn’t have time to feel shame, not when he wanted you to feel loved.

his hands slid inside your shirt, pushing the fabric aside to expose your soft, perfect skin. he took a moment to just look, his breath hitching at the sight of your nipples, pebbled and begging for his touch. his eyes filled with tears, not of pain or regret, but of pure love and the depth of his feelings. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. you didn’t speak; instead, you leaned in to kiss him again, this time more urgently, your tongue dancing with his, as your hands found the hem of his shirt, eager to feel his bare chest against yours.

his own shirt was soon discarded, and you both sat there, breathing heavily, skin to skin. his strong hands continued to massage your breasts, his thumbs playing with your sensitive peaks, driving you wild with every touch. your own hands roamed over his shoulders, his arms, feeling the strength and warmth of his body. the connection between you was sickening, a silent conversation of love and lust that didn’t need words. “fuck,” you exhaled as his thumbs danced around your erect nipples, kneading the thin flesh of your breasts. you felt ashamed for a second, ashamed at the lack of what you had to offer him, at the dainty size of your breasts. you felt the need to cover up, to hide yourself from him, thinking it wouldn't be enough for him to enjoy. you crossed your arms over your small breasts, a shy look of embrassment in your face, but mark wasn’t having any of it.

his hands gently moved yours aside. “no, baby, don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his eyes filled with adoration. “you’re perfect. absolutely perfect. i love every inch of you, these too,” he said, tracing his fingers over your breasts again. his words were like a balm to your insecurities, a gentle caress to your ego. his warm mouth found one of your nipples, suckling it with surprising gentleness. the sensation was like a lightning bolt straight to your core, and you felt yourself getting wetter by the second. your hands found his hair, threading through the soft strands as he worked his magic on your breasts. the way he looked at you, like you were the most precious thing in the world, made you feel so cherished, so loved. you lacked what other girls could easily offer him, yet he didn’t seem to care.

his other hand found its way down your body, tracing the curve of your waist, over your hips, and down to the button of your pants. with a gentle tug, he encouraged you to lift your hips, allowing him to pull them off. you were now fully exposed to him, vulnerable in a way that was thrilling and terrifying all at once. his eyes took in the sight of you, his gaze lingering on your bare pussy, glistening with arousal. he groaned, his own desire thick in the air. “so beautiful,” he murmured, his hand moving to touch you lightly.

his fingertips grazed your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. you moaned, unable to hold back the sound, your legs spreading wider to give him better access. he took his time, teasing and exploring, his touch as tender as if you were made of the most delicate glass. he parted your folds, his finger sliding in easily, feeling the slickness of your arousal. you were so wet for him, and the sight of his finger disappearing into you made him even harder. “you’re so ready for me, fuck, like you were made for me,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

his thumb continued to circle your clit as his finger began to move in and out, his pace increasing gradually. your hips rocked in sync with his movements, the pleasure building inside you like a crescendo. he watched your face, reading your every expression, ensuring that he was giving you exactly what you needed. his eyes never left yours, filled with a fierce love and protection that made your heart swell. you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your breath coming in short gasps, but he wasn’t done yet. he needed to feel you, to have you with him filling you up to the brim.

mark leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours as he unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and slid them off. his cock, hard and demanding, sprang free, and you couldn’t help but stare. he was big, much bigger than you had anticipated, and the sight of him made you both nervous and incredibly turned on. he noticed your gaze and smirked slightly, a hint of pride flashing in his eyes. “aren’t scared, are you?” he asked playfully, his voice a seductive whisper.

you shook your head, trying to play it cool despite the nervousness that bubbled up inside you. “not at all,” you lied, your voice a little shaky. he chuckled, his hand moving to stroke himself slowly, the sight of his hand on his cock making your stomach flip. “you sure?” he questioned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. you nodded, your eyes locked onto his hand, watching the way his shaft grew even more as he touched himself. no matter how scared you were, you knew he would take care of you.

mark leaned in, his mouth capturing yours again, his kiss gentle yet filled with a burning need. you felt his hand move away from your pussy and the loss of his touch made you whine into the kiss. but the sound was soon muffled by his groan as he pulled away, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. the tip of his dick was slick with precum, and you felt a thrill of anticipation as he pushed against you, just the tip teasing you. it had barely grazed your slit, yet you were soaking around him, the sight of it only clouding his mind even more.

his eyes searched yours for any sign of doubt, but all he saw was the same eagerness that reflected his own. with a deep breath, he pushed in, inch by inch, his big cock stretching you wider than you’ve ever been. it was a delicious pain, a sweet agony that you couldn’t get enough of. your nails dug into his shoulders as he filled you up, his gentle strokes becoming deeper, more insistent. your walls tightened around him, trying to hold onto his length as if afraid to let go. “you’re okay, baby, just hold on,” he encouraged softly as you whined, nails clawing at his skin.

his praise, his tenderness, it all felt so overwhelming that tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes. it was too much, too beautiful, and it hurt in the most exquisite way. you nodded, your breath hitching as he reached down to kiss you again, his tongue delving into your mouth as his cock pushed deeper into your pussy. your moans grew louder as he found a rhythm that had you writhing in his lap, your body moving with the gentle ebb and flow of his hips. “look at you, taking me so well,” he cooed at the sight of his cock tucked into the swell of your cunt, his fingers grazing the small creases of your breasts as you tightened around him.

his strokes grew more deliberate, his movements more powerful, yet never crossing the line into roughness. he was worried that his size might be too much for you, so he held back, trying to give you as much pleasure as possible without causing any discomfort. but you could feel the tension in his body, the restraint that was clear in every line of his face, the cords of his neck standing out as he held back. you didn’t want that; you wanted all of him, the beast that lurked beneath his tender exterior. “i can take it, break me, please,” you panted. his hands reached down, your hands wrapping around his, urging him to go deeper, to move faster.

his eyes searched yours, looking for confirmation, and what he saw there was all he needed. he let go of the last of his restraint, his hips moving with more force. your pussy stretched around his thick cock, the feeling of fullness making you dizzy. each thrust was met with a wet slap, the sound echoing in the quiet room, mingling with your cries of pleasure. your walls clenched around him, trying to hold onto him, to keep him deep inside you, to never let him go. his thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles that had you bucking your hips, trying to get closer, trying to get more. he was so sweet, his hair tickling your skin as he wrapped his tongue around your nipple, his tongue probing at the flesh. you wanted to feel insecure, but he was making it impossible.

his hand found yours again, his fingers interlocking with yours, as if to remind you that he was there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. the connection was strong, and it only grew stronger with each passing moment. your orgasm was approaching like a freight train, and you could feel it building in the pit of your stomach. your breath grew shallower, your eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in the feeling of him inside you. his free hand was in your hair, tugging gently, his teeth grazing your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

his thrusts grew deeper, and the pressure on your g-spot was intense. you felt yourself tightening around him, your pussy gripping him like a vice. “cum for me, baby, cum on my cock,” he whispered in your ear, his voice a seductive rumble that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body. the words alone were enough to send you over the edge, your climax washing over you like a tidal wave. your body tensed, your pussy pulsing around him as you screamed out his name, your eyes squeezed shut, tears of joy streaming down your face.

his own orgasm was building, the feel of you tightening around him was too much. with one final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, groaning as he released his seed, filling you up without a single thought of protection. he watched as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your climax, his heart racing with the intensity of his own feelings. the sight of you, coming apart in his arms, was more than he could handle. his own eyes filled with tears, his love for you so overwhelming that he couldn’t help but cry with you.

he held you tightly as he pulled out, his cock still hard and glistening with your juices. his hand moved to stroke your hair, his eyes never leaving your face. “i love you,” he whispered, the words coming out in a choked sob. the weight of his emotions was palpable, and you felt your own heart swell in response. you leaned into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his cum leaking out of you, a testament to the intimacy you had just shared. “i love you too,” you whispered back, your frail fingers wiping away the tears that stained his cheeks.

there was no shame in it anymore. there were no cameras waiting to capture the moment, no witnesses. there was nobody but the two of you. there were no mocking looks or harsh words to battle your self-esteem, nothing to fuel your insecurities. he was as raw as you were, but he was stronger than you. he didn’t cry because of the sex, he cried because of the love. you weren't too sure about a happy ending just yet, but a beginning was more than you could’ve asked for.

✧*.

a/n: to the doll that requested, hope u know ur absolutely perfect no matter what. never let anybody’s subjective opinion or the standards perpetuated dictate how beautiful you are and how beautiful you should feel. this goes to anybody reading, because i know there’s too many of you scrolling through tiktok and thinking, “why cant i look like that?” or “why do i have hip dips, why doesn’t my ass looks like that, why does she look like that and i don’t?” i promise all of your insecurities are illusions purposely projected by the media to make you give into what they’re feeding you. no, starving yourself won’t make you beautiful. neither will overused lips fillers or heavy botox or that botched bbl. there’s nothing wrong with the way you look, there never was and there never will be. cherish every part of yourself, you never know who may be looking at you and wishing they had what you do.

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk--------

-and remember my coffee order.

p12 to Just don't talk

summary: First outing in public, as the two don't even try to hide that they're in love with each other.

As far as bizarre goes, this meeting was up there at the top, yet again.

The comms team had a big chart put up in the meeting room, with timelines, platforms, twists and turns - it was like watching someone explain a plot for some movie script. This is where you'll be spotted kissing for the first time, this is when you post a photo with a family member, this is when you'll go on a vacation together (faked, obviously) and this is when you'll part on separate vacation and soft launch your break up - and this is your break up note for social media. It was funny, yet a little overwhelming.

"Obviously, this will be adapted as we move forward. As you can see here on the next slide, these are the numbers we are setting as our targets. The amount of revenue generated by this will be affecting the schedule," the assistant presenting this seemed to have a little too much fun with it, up to the point when Lando thought they were getting off on it. He saved his comments - why would he stir the pot too much? Now that he has what he wanted. This is just a charade that they will have to get through. And if all goes according to their plan, all of the people making these presentations will be very surprised one day. He was sort of looking forward to wiping their smiles off.

"talk about romance," Y/N texted Lando secretly. He chuckled and shared a look with her, as if to say "we got this".

The numbers part was where it reached the peak of weird. The pair sat, watching people calculating how much money they will make out of them sharing few kisses in public and estimating how much will this affect their marketability.

Y/N had few issues with their plan. Mainly, it seemed to avoid anything really personal. As if a relationship was only about sharing a holiday and flaunting around with family pictures. She for one hated this part and made it very clear that no family of hers will be involved. But where were the shared streams, the dinner dates and shared hotel rooms? If this was a blueprint of their relationship, then it would have been a very shit one. But then again, this was the fake dating public part - they could not control what they did in their own real relationship. But she really hoped it would not be like that.

//

Their first public scheduled public outing - a very simple coffee run together, no hiding, little cute chat and holding hands. Those were the instruction they'd received.

It was one of the rare free days between races. She woke up at his place after spending first stressless night with him after few hard days. They both woke up early, still processing the time difference.

"Hello, sunshine," he whispered, as they laid side by side, legs tangled together. He watched her attentively, studying her face as she let a smile out upon hearing him.

"I don't wanna get up," she mumbled and wiggled her way deeper into his embrace. "Let's just stay here, like this."

She was just too cute to resist, stuck somewhere between sleep and awake. So honest and unguarded. Lando hasn't felt this relaxed in years. He held her tightly as her breath tickled him in his chest.

"I'd love nothing more that to stay here, my dear. But we gotta go out today, remember?"

"But it's just so comfortable here, please," she set her voice higher than usual, as if to convince him to skip school with her.

"Don't be a little tease, otherwise I'll never get anything done ever again," he joked and pulled away a bit in order to give her few pecks on her cheek.

"I'm a tease? What a double standard," she remarked curiously, as she traced his morning wood with her fingers.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather all the morale he had in him. "I can't exactly control that," he said heavily.

"I like it. Can you be my breakfast?" she asked, suddenly full of life. She abruptly sat up on him and demonstratively licked her lips, morning hair all tangled up, no clothes or make up on. How was he supposed to resist that? She smirked as she saw his determination leave and went on to suck him off while holding his hand.

His moans were louder that what she used from him. It was like entering a different room this time. A very pretty one.

//

"Did I ever tell you that you have really beautiful eyes?" she asked all of a sudden, as they were heading towards his fridge for a premade breakfast.

He looked at her as he opened the door. "I don't think so," he answered shyly. She could melt right then and there.

Lando took out two chai bowls and put them on his table. All very casual and comfortable.

She took her first spoon and immediately noticed her favorite smell. "My chef always skips on cinnamon. He believes it's bad for the gut."

"Do you not like it?" he asked, worried he unintentionally fucked up.

She licked her spoon, reminiscing of having his cock in her mouth just moments ago. "No, I really love it. Miss it, actually."

"You need to get a different chef, what kind of a bullshit is that?"

"Life is full of bullshit, Lando."

"Well aren't you a philosopher," he teased her once again.

They made sure to be at the top of their game. Tried on few outfits, trying to find something that might fit them both, Y/N being in her full on follicular phase and focusing more on removing the outfits from him, rather than putting them on. He acted annoyed, but was over the moon she finds him attractive as well. Once they finally rolled out his apartment, they were quite sight to see.

"Do you realize we did not decide on the most important thing," she said as Lando casually walked over to the driver's seat of one of his cars.

"Hm?"

She gave him a look instead of speaking, letting him figure it out on his own.

He was usually quite oblivious to these hints, but this one dropped fast.

"Absolutely not."

"I share your sentiment, absolutely not. I know how you drive, Lando."

"More podiums than you, so I get the driver's privileges. Stop overthinking and get it the car."

It was a matter of principles - she was not going to let them fall into relationship stereotypes automatically. And also she just did not accept other people driving, making her awfully similar to Lando.

"Have we never sat in a car together before?" he lost track a bit, trying to recall any other time they'd share a car.

"Nope."

It was becoming a stare down at this point. Neither of them backing down.

"My car is parked nearby. We can go separately," she bargained, waiting for him to back off. But he saw right through her, his ego not letting him get her away with that.

He replied without blinking. "Sure. Why the hell not." She wanted him to back down and he wanted the same from her. "Do you want me to drive you to your car?"

He was mocking her and she was not having it.

"Nope, just text me the location and we'll see who gets there first," she challenged, still sort of hoping for him to fold.

"Great, I'll give you a five minute head start," and he nonchalantly sat into his car.

"Fucking idiot," she mumbled under her breath. He heard her and had to bite his lips to stop himself smiling.

She tried to race there first while not breaking that many laws and not endangering anyone, but he still won. He was standing there, leaning on his car with all his glory, as he watched her park angrily.

"Hi, baby," he greeted her and took his hat off. "Better luck next time." He gave her a mocking pseudo-sad pout.

"For each speeding ticket you'll get 30 seconds penalty," she hit him back.

"Worth it and still first," he winked. "Ready?"

"I guess so." He walked over to her and took her hand in his. Already there were few bystanders noticing them.

"We'll be ok," he reassured more himself than her probably.

"I was kinda hoping for more than that," she tried to lighten up the mood, as sudden nerves washed over her.

"You just never stop, do you," he laughed as they walked over to the café and he held the door open for her.

"You wish."

As they entered, he asked about her coffee order and made sure to memorize it for the future. If he was to be a boyfriend, he would be the best one. She kept looking to the ground as he order for both of them. He saw her slight distress and hoped that she was not regretting this - being out in the open with him. Even though their teams thought this was all fake, it was more than real for him. He would not admit this to anyone, but he was also kind of nervous. But there was not a doubt in his mind about this being worth it. She stood next to him, practically glued to his side and it felt nice as they waited for their order. He had to find a way to cheer her, main reason being that he cared about her mood and the second being their first pictures had to have looking at least little bit like having fun.

"It's actually quite exciting, isn't it?" Lando asked, unsuccessfully fighting his smile. The more he thought about them, the more was starting to like this whole thing.

"What is, Lando?" she replied, coming back to reality and locking eyes with him. It worked like magic. Within seconds, she was smitten through the roof.

He held her hand as a lover would. It was like touching a life wire. Sending impulses throughout their bodies.

"Being able to do this in public," he mumbled under his breath and stepped just a little bit closer. Time to break the rules.

He licked his lips "Ready?"

She was on the same wavelength as him. "Will this be our first kiss?" she teased, shifting towards him.

He put his arm around her waist, pushing her as close as possible. "Uhm."

"But this is ahead of the schedule they'd planned," she teased, totally on board with him.

"And you can watch me try to give a damn." There was fire dancing in his eyes. She put her arms on his chest, letting herself go into his embrace and closed her eyes, as he put his lips onto hers and kissed her. It was a gentle peck, their lips slowly brushing onto each other, the way that they had many times before. Yet, it still felt special. Carefree. Bold and confident.

There weren't many people in the cafe and the kiss wasn't exactly a long one, but it was enough. They had it documented from several angles. Y/N searched for the photos and saved them all. Neither of them quite ready for the storm coming their way.

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak @chonkybonky @bicchaan @saachiep81 @chezmardybum @a-beaverhausen @tbsloneely @iamkaku @amberpanda99

[bunnyreaper]

johnny maintains his yearly christmas tradition with you, this time with a twist.

(18+/MNDI, f!reader, breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, established relationship, brief mention of reader having a specific hair type. Originally written for @soapsgf as part of the secret santa I hosted, but adapted for tumblr!)

Johnny's enthusiasm for Christmas truly knows no bounds. Coming from a large family, he was surrounded by siblings, cousins, aunts, and uncles who all loved the festive season, and it created an impression that lasted a lifetime. By the time he was old enough to get weary of the holiday, deployments reminded him of how special that time of year was.

When deployments became old hat, little nieces and nephews were there to remind him of what it was all about. But now there was an itch inside him.

Last Christmas saw Johnny proposing to you under the sparkling lights of your flat's dinky little Christmas tree—and this year he needed to match the excitement that last year had given both of you.

Luckily, up in a snow-topped cabin in the Highlands, with a real fir tree and private hot tub—John MacTavish has a plan.

The sound of the radio and your gentle humming carry through from the kitchenette, filling Johnny with a warmth inside that not even the roaring fireplace can provide.

Johnny rushes around the living room of the cabin, grabbing the supplies he'd snuck in earlier from his truck—extra candles, blankets, and the red ribbon he has tucked in the back of his jeans.

Even the mere thought of his impending gift has him half-hard as he kneels on the fluffy rug, ready to go as he unzips his jeans, pulls down his boxers, and gets to work tying the ribbon around his rapidly hardening cock.

Johnny calls out for you, hoping his voice carries enough to be heard over the noise. When he doesn't hear you coming, he calls out louder, his voice booming and cheery as it so often is. "Bonnie!"

Finally, he hears you pause the music and set down the dishes in the sink—moments later, you appear around the door, bright-eyed and content with a dish towel still drying off your hands.

"Yes?" You call out, before you finally take in all of Johnny and his state of undress.

Johnny's smile is infectious, just as it always is—but under the sparkling lights it shines extra bright with a swirl of mischief, Christmas spirit, and arousal. "One last gift."

"Johnny..." You laugh, blushing ever so slightly as your hungry stare settles on where Johnny starts to stroke his leaking cock.

"Yearly tradition, c'mon." He smirks, thrusting his hips into the air slightly as if to tempt his love.

"Fuck. Hard already, Johnny." You tease him with ease, having done this sweet song and dance with him before. After all, it was a yearly tradition Johnny all but insisted upon keeping, even the year you'd spent at his parents where he'd fucked you oh so quietly and oh so dirtily in his childhood bedroom.

"Extra excited to give you this gift, doll." He growls, eyes clouding over with lust. "Get over here."

You quickly find your way to your knees, your hand falling to Johnny's velvety, hard dick in an instant as you begins to stroke him lovingly.

Johnny's hand strokes across your curves, embracing your figure before his fingers find their way lower—across silky thighs, with teasing touches as he goes. Each inch he edges up the hem of your dress, the more shivers wrack your body, and arousal flows through your veins.

When Johnny's fingers dip below the waistband of your lacy panties, the thick pads are greeted with your dripping slick. "Wet already?" Johnny teases back.

"Fuck off." You whisper, just before your lips capture his.

Both of your eyes flutter shut as you fall into each other's embrace, hands caressing each other's most intimate parts as your lips intertwine sweetly.

The kiss between you two escalates, lips and teeth growing hungry as your hands move over each other with enthusiasm.

"Merry Christmas, Johnny," you mumble against your fiance's lips, the hand not on his dick coming up to stroke across his stubbled cheek.

Johnny returns the favour, rough palm settling on your soft skin and caressing. "Haven't even given ye the gift yet."

"The gift wasn't your dick?"

"Not quite, lass." He smirks, fingers curling expertly inside you, against your most sensitive spot inside. His lips fall to your neck as he continues to stroke, nibbling at the one point he knows drives you wildest. "Lay back and find out."

The two of you part slowly, exchanging a few more pecks before Johnny helps lay you down. Your locks cascade around your head like a halo as Johnny settles you into the shaggy rug. His hands take the time to rove over your figure, appreciating every inch of your body under the twinkle of the fairy lights and the flicker of the candlelight.

He pushes the skirt of your dress down your thighs delicately, kissing at the sensitive inner flesh before peeling off your panties. His eyes hold yours the entire time in an intense gaze, but especially so when he pauses with his mouth latched onto your skin, sucking a mark into your flesh. Blue eyes burn into yours, bearing his hunger to you.

"I don't think eating me out counts as a Christmas gift either when you do it every time we fuck." You sigh, overcome with the anticipation and pleasure of Johnny's mouth hovering just inches from your exposed folds.

"Tha's no' the gift, doll." He purrs, quickly dipping down to press a kiss to your swollen clit—he smirks when the action draws a wanton moan from you. "Just getting you ready for the real deal."

Johnny spurs into action, pulling away and scrambling to push off his jeans and boxers. He pulls the ribbon from where it's tied at the root of his dick and tosses it at you, delighting when he draws out your giggles. You brush the ribbon off your face, curling it in your fist as Johnny spreads open your legs, setting your feet on his shoulders.

He's quick to line himself up with your wet cunt, swiping the head of his dick through your folds with a hungry grin and delighting in the way your legs quiver.

As he's about to push himself into the tight heat of your pussy, a weakly protesting hand comes to press against his muscled chest—one that speaks to a rationality neither of you really wants to listen to.

"No condom, Johnny."

"Not this time, bonnie." Johnny circles his cock around your entrance, waiting for permission for you both to give in to your more carnal urges. "Tha's your gift, if you want it."

"Johnny... are you serious?" You gasp, a smile spreading across your face, completely unrestrained. You'd talked about it before, yet you were just waiting for Johnny to come around to the idea.

"Dead serious, gonna make ye a ma..." He growls, before sinking into you fully in one thrust, making sure his cock is snug inside and filling you so completely.

"Fuck, Johnny!" You gasp, struggling to catch your breath as Johnny's hips start moving at a brutal pace inside you. All you can do is lie back and take it, watching as the gorgeous wall of muscle that is your fiance hammers his dick deep inside you.

Still, you need to get out your next words.

"Have something... to tell you." Johnny's eyes flicker to yours, yet he remains quiet and focused. "I'm... already pregnant."

For a moment, Johnny stills, eyes going wide before they're overtaken with an even wilder hunger in his gaze. His hips snap harder and deeper than they did before, as he practically turns into a feral beast on top of his you.

"All the more reason to fuck ye full of my cum, eh?" He growls, his voice desperate and strained as he strokes across your stomach where his seed has already taken hold. "Gonna fill you again, make sure it really takes."

Your eyes roll back in your skull, overwhelmed at the idea of being bred all over again by Johnny, this time with purpose.

You two cling to each other desperately, animal instincts driving you together, as you both desperately seek to make sure you're knocked up good and proper.

It isn't long before your cunt is being flooded with rope after rope of Johnny's potent cum—the man himself not pulling out, instead peppering your face with kisses as he keeps your hole plugged up and his load deep inside.

"Merry Christmas, bonnie."

[604to647]

Safest with You (The Epilogue)

3.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din welcome a new member to your family.

Warnings: All fluff - just the way we started this series! Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).

A/N: A cute little glimpse into the lives of our happy couple around two years after the series finale. 112 Carlota Galgos is a real Galgo rescue in Spain! I won't go into the circumstances that make the rescue work they do so important, but many of you know that I have a greyhound, and the plight of the Galgo is well known in the sighthound community. These dogs deserve the world!! If you have an opportunity to check out organizations that aid Spanish Galgos or even help - I promise these gentle giants deserve it. Lisette is a real galgo I knew! She passed last year and this epilogue is dedicated to her (cute pics included at the end!)

I’m posting this on the one year anniversary of Chapter 1!! I can’t believe it’s been a whole year of writing these bbs 🥹 Thank you thank you everyone who has supported and followed along with this series - you are all as dear to me as Pretty Bird's garlic knots are to Mayfeld 🥹🥰 (I still plan on publishing that recipe!)

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always! 🥰 / Series Masterlist

Just before your finger is about to press down the call button on the outside of the closed metal gate, you retract your hand and look questioningly at Din.

“How many am I allowed to get again?”

Din stares at you for a second to ascertain if you’re kidding and when he sees you’re not, a little panic sets in on his face, “One, pretty bird.  Just one.”

“But…”

“We only made arrangements with the airline for one, baby.”

You pout a little, but know Din’s right, “Okay. Fine. One.”

Somewhat dejectedly you press the button, though the chorus of barks and yelps from the other side of the gate resulting from the chime of the bell perk you up immediately, and by the time the gate is buzzed open with a loud brrrrzzzt, you’re giddy with excitement again.

This is the last planned destination of the European trip you and Din have been on for the last three weeks, both of you looking forward to flying home in just a few days.

The vacation has been an absolute dream.  You and Din have eaten your way through Amsterdam (Stroopwafels! Bitterballen!), then Paris (Steak frites! Macarons! Croissants!  One, sometimes two baguettes a day!), followed by Rome (Gelato! Pasta until you exploded!), and then finally Barcelona (Paella! Bombas!) before ending up where you are now: Andalucia, Spain, outside the gates of the 112 Carlota Galgos dog rescue.

The happy and excited woofs from the still unseen pups remind you so much of Alfredo.  Gosh, you miss your best guy so much – although, if the daily photos and videos you’ve been receiving are to be believed, he might be hard pressed to leave Paz’s when you get back.  By now a minor celebrity in Din and Paz’s neighbourhood, you’re happy to see that Al’s been making the rounds at the local shops (and accepting generous samples everywhere he goes), enjoying fun road trips to nearby hiking trails, and most importantly, helping Paz cement his image as an attractive, eligible bachelor about town.  You’re sure if you were to peek at Paz’s dating app profile, you’d see it updated with copious pictures of him fawning over your dog. 

Originally, you had been hesitant to have Paz take Al to his place for three whole weeks, wondering if it was better if instead, Paz could come and dog-sit at your and Din’s place – but Al does seem to be adjusting to being away from home just fine.  Though Alfredo is generally super easy going and adaptable, you nevertheless recognized that it had been quite a year of transition and multiple upheavals for your pup and worried about how he might cope with yet another change in scenery. 

Nearly a year ago, you and Din moved in together and Al had been uprooted from the only home he’s ever known.  Though it wasn’t without some understandable disinclination that you left your beautiful and much-loved apartment, both of you agreed it made perfect sense for you to move into Din’s place above Mando’s.  Of course you loved your old place – you had poured so much of your heart and soul into making it your refuge and the perfect home for you and Al, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to regret leaving – Din is your home now, as you are his.   The only safe haven you need is the one with him, and though you’re sure he would have moved without hesitation if you had asked, the idea of Din leaving a residence right above his place of work, in a building he already owned, was too silly to even entertain.

To try and make the adjustment as smooth as possible for his pretty bird, Din had given you free reign to redecorate, bring in your furniture, and make whatever changes you wanted in order to make his, now your, apartment feel more like home.  The third floor of Mando’s would always hold his most cherished memories of his childhood and father – he didn’t need it to look a certain way or have it maintained as some kind of physical shrine in order for that to be true; Din was ready to make a home and new memories with you.  It was sweet and you appreciated the gesture prodigiously, but aside from adding your own bookshelves and swapping out a couch, the only thing you had asked for was a bigger kitchen.  Din had readily agreed and even suggested he build you an expanded closet and turn the second bedroom into a home office-dog den for you and Al.  Din’s enthusiasm and eagerness for the project was enough to have you agreeing to his considerate suggestions.

What had followed was seven months of renovation chaos, living out of and tripping over boxes as a slew of tradespeople and workmen paraded in and out of what was supposed to be your new sanctuary. 

You love Din with all your heart, and one of the things you love most and find endlessly attractive is just how good he is at the things he does: taking care of you and Al, supporting the community, running Mando’s – to say nothing of the skill and prowess he displays in his work in and out of the ring; just the sight of Din running drills with his boxers or deftly commanding the Mandos gets you weak in the knees. 

But elaborate home improvements and remodelling?  Unfortunately, not part of Din’s impressive skill set.  Nor any of the Mandos for that matter.  For two weeks, every Mando on payroll seemed to be over at your place “helping” with measurements and the demolition of the kitchen and the wall between the two bedrooms.  Only after a burst pipe and the subsequent three weeks of living with drying fans running 24/7, did Din concede it was time to call in professionals.  Then came a parade of contractors and their respective plumbers, cabinet guys, drywall, tile and marble contacts, electricians, etc. – who all seemed to owe some kind of “favour” to Boba.  The good thing about that was they were committed to doing a good job; the bad thing was that no one was particularly dedicated to doing a fast job.  For the next five months, you, Din and Al lived in a construction zone of various partially started and finished projects with different strangers coming in and out of your place at all hours of the day – it had stressed Al out endlessly.

A little over half a year after moving in with Din, you hit a breaking point and, with Din’s encouragement, packed a suitcase and took Al to stay at Bea’s until a firm completion deadline could be negotiated with the various contractors.  Din had insisted on staying behind to lead the "negotiations" and "supervise" the follow through; lo and behold, everything had been completed to perfection and cleaned up thoroughly two weeks after.  Upon seeing the beautiful finished space, you finally felt at home – though frustrated, you hadn’t ever been terribly mad about the whole situation, but it had been a very confusing time for your pup.

Din had felt awful – this wasn’t the symbolic big step and storybook start to your lives together that he had envisioned.  You either, if you were being honest, but it genuinely mattered very little in the grand scheme of things; you reminded Din, as the two of you christened every surface of your brand new kitchen, that your lives together had really started a year before moving in together, when he had taken his own big step and shown up outside of your office, making you the promise to be open and honest about everything.

And he had.  Din had forgiven himself and won you back, and these last two years have been the happiest of your lives, even with the renovations. 

In that time a lot’s happened.  Jimmy won another two division championships and moved up a weight class.  Cass announced that her and Rikard were expecting.  Rory’s bridal boutique expanded to a second even more successful location and to her chagrin, she was promoted to manager.  The second book in Bea’s series came out to amazing reviews and the anticipation and hype for the third (due out later this year) was through the roof.  Poe decided to pursue and then successfully obtained his pilot license.  You went up in his Cessna just once – the views had been unforgettable, Lisa getting sick in your lap no lesser so.  Katie guest starred on Law and Order – twice (two different characters).  You met the Mods.  And Al finally settled into his new home, overseeing his new kingdom from the plush and cozy dog den that his dad lovingly built for him.

And now you and Din are about to take another big step together.

Greeted enthusiastically by one of the women who runs the Spanish hunting dog haven with whom you’ve been conversing with over the past few months about adoption, you and Din take a tour of the facility before being led out back to meet the dogs.

Per Elenna’s guidance, you sit in a chair near the water bowls and let the galgos come to you on their own terms.  Some, understandably, are shy and timid, wary of strangers – tentatively, they come and investigate you with their snoots, eventually accepting your gentle pats and scritches once they feel comfortable enough.  Others have no such hesitation - tails wagging, curious and excited, they enthusiastically crowd you, nosing in for pets and try to sniff out the treats you have in your pocket.  Your chest expands, heart nearly tripling in size to see these dogs get to be dogs again, as you rub their little faces and coo endless words of deserved praise at them for their bravery.

Maybe the plane will have room for another crate, you think, or two?  You can’t stop giggling as your face is licked and poked with wet noses, or when those same noses goose your tummy and legs, competing for the attention of your busy hands – you’re in heaven, nearly overwhelmed by all this furry cuteness.  Surely Din cannot possibly expect you to limit yourself to one! Knowing the marshmallow squish that resides beneath his hard and steely frame, you’re willing to bet that Din has already softened his stance on taking home multiple pups.  You crane your neck to see over the dogs, looking around the property to see if you can locate your boyfriend.

To your surprise, you find him not being surrounded by enthusiastic, bounding galgos, but alone - crouching near the ground and gently scratching a smaller fawn coloured dog who’s laying on her side, her slender head lifted just slightly off the ground to lean into Din’s hand.

“That’s Lisette,” Elenna says when she notices you looking at Din and the fawn girl, “she’s just come to us after this last hunting season - we found her in the street with a broken leg.  She’s all healed up now but is still quite skittish, especially around men.  This is actually the first time I’ve ever seen her let a man touch her, never mind a stranger.  Your husband must have a very calming touch.”

“Oh, he’s not my husb-” your voice trails off as you watch Lisette continue to happily receive Din’s attention.  Walking over, you hear him speaking quietly to her in Spanish.

“What are you telling her, Din?”

Din looks up, eyes soft and shiny, “Just telling her what a good girl she is.  That’s she so brave and sweet.  And that she doesn’t have anything to be afraid of anymore.  She’s safe now.”

There is no question as to which (one) dog you’ll be adopting today.

Lisette settles in quickly when you and Din get her back home, especially with Al immediately taking up his role as big brother.  Lisette falls into the easy comfort of following his lead, regularly looking to Alfredo for guidance – he never leads her astray and the two of them become inseparable.  With growing pride, you watch Lisette tentatively explore her new environment and slowly over the next few months, becomes more and more comfortable in her forever home: first your and Din’s apartment, then the gym, whose enthusiastic occupants always greet her like the princess she is, and eventually the entire neighbourhood where she’s never without her protective brother by her side.  When she’s ready, you and Din take her and Al out on further away adventures: to your and Din’s favourite farmers’ market, Poe and Lisa’s (where you learn in their pool that Lisette can swim!) or to Boba and Fennec’s where she can run and play with Mochi and the other Daimyo Dogs.  Your heart positively kvells as Lisette’s confidence grows and she becomes the happy pup she deserves to be, putting her less than ideal start to life behind her.

The only thing you wish you could change, though you would never push, is that Lisette won’t cuddle with you - she only ever cuddles with Din.  You know she loves you, but she’s very much a daddy’s girl and he’s the only one with whom she feels safe enough to have in such close proximity while sleeping or relaxing.  You don’t begrudge Lisette at all for feeling this way; Din is her protector, she trusts him to keep her safe - you understand the comfort of that feeling better than anyone.

And in truth, you love watching them together – seeing your sweet girl so at ease and your strong, formidable warrior melt into a puddle of goo when she burrows into the warmth of his lap.  Din talks to Lisette in Spanish all the time, repeating what he told her back in Andalucia: she’s safe now, she doesn’t have to be scared anymore - this is her home.

Your home feels complete now – there’s nowhere you would rather be than cuddled up on the couch with Din, each respectively loving on the pups that have curled up against you: you, Al and Din, Lisette.

Then one day, you’re on the couch tapping away on your laptop when Lisette saunters up to you.  You rub her little head and give her a little smooch on her snoot as she walks by, fully expecting her to wander away but she surprises you to no end when she hops up on the couch and curls up by your feet.  Terribly delighted but not wanting to spook her, you pretend like it’s no big deal – your heart, however, is doing jumping jacks; looking up with a big smile you see Din nodding encouragingly at the both of you.

And then she does it again.  And again.  At first still staying arms length from you, she inches closer and closer, little by little.  Though your chest is exploding and you want to shout with joy, you always remain calm and give Lisette copious amounts of quiet praise after she’s settled.  To celebrate this progress, Din will eventually come over to shower Lisette with additional treats and Spanish words of adulation that she happily accepts.  Sometimes you even catch him encouraging her before she comes over to you or see her looking back at him for reassurance before she climbs onto the bed or couch to sit with you.  Always her protector, her safe space.

It's slow going, but worth it.

Today, you’re on the couch having just finished a book, funnily enough it’s the most recent in the fantasy series that Din had bought you and your friends on that first day you met nearly four years ago, when you see Lisette moseying on over to you.  You swing your legs off the couch and pat the spot next to you, and to your delight, she hops up and starts to do her little nesting circles, prepping for her laydown spot.  When she finally settles, she lays her little head in your lap and you think your heart might burst.  You look up and see Din, handsome and relaxed, leaning against one of the bookshelves looking at the both of you with an adoring expression on his face.  You beam back - yep, the two of you are his girls.  The ones he takes care of.  Looks after.  Loves.

Lisette nuzzles her furry little face deeper into your thigh and you can’t help but giggle at the sensation.  “Okay, okay,” you chuckle, as if you needed any invitation to pet and love on her.  Dispensing gentle scritches all over her head and little ear rubs, you notice that your sweet girl has an extra collar on.  Normally Lisette wears just a martingale and sometimes nothing at all when she’s at home, but today, she’s got a thin rope collar encircling her neck as well.  Rubbing it between your fingers, you say to Din, “This is pretty!  When did she get this house collar?”

“Got it for her a while ago, but thought I’d wait for the right moment to put it on.  Do you like it?”

Lisette lifts her head and you take the opportunity to take a closer look at the pretty pink collar; admiring the delicate metalware and the luxurious feeling fibres of the rope, you run your fingers over the collar until you get to the small clasp in the front and feel something you don’t expect.  Rotating the collar around Lisette’s slender neck so you can get a better look at the thin object, you gasp when it comes into view.

A diamond ring.

Din, with Al by his side, starts to walk towards you, the look in his eyes clear and so easy to read: Devotion.  Adoration.  Love.

“Pretty bird…” he starts.  Din has an entire speech planned.  He needs to thank you for coming into his life and showing him what true strength and power is.  Grace, honesty, and compassion have been your gifts to him, and he’s a better man, a stronger man, for your kindness and generosity.  He wants to promise you that your faith in him will never be misplace – that he will cherish you and your heart to the very last beat of his own and beyond.  He loves you, admires you, trusts you, is in awe of you, and remains forever grateful for you.  Grateful for every smile you throw his way, every laugh you pull from him and allow him to draw from you, thankful for all the ways you’ve woven yourself into his life and made it better.  And above all, grateful for your acceptance and love for him and all that he is, was, and ever will be.  He needs to ask you if you will allow him the honour of spending the remainder of his days showing you his gratitude and loving you the way you deserve.

Din’s heart is overflowing and he has so much he wishes to express; he’s not entirely sure he’s going to be able to make any sense.  But Din’s not nervous - the radiant smile on your beautiful face as he approaches already telling him everything he needs to know.

Real life Lisette!! 🥰🥰

Very last tag for this series!! Thank you all forever for your support 🥹😘

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