#unless i impulsively start something new x)

[leynaeithnea]

Trying super hard to come up with a good question and this is the best I got I fear

Four books? ( One of your all time favourites , one you really really want to read, one that fundamentally changed you and one you'll never stop recommending) ( book series are also good)

Morninggg yeah questions can be really hardbut this is a good one

let's see....mh...

1. This one is tough but I'd probably say All For The Game, I've read it about 6 to 7 times in the past 7 years or so years, something about it just hits right home

2. ...does the Odyssey count? I currently have a digital version and a german translation from 1939 that i found in an antiquity store but i wanna get an english hardcover version of both the odyseey and the illiad eventually-

3. Lord of the rings/tolkiens universe changed me and helped me through my first years of teen angst and gave me a home during a time where we just recently moved and all that

4. Mmmhhh... That changes honestly depending on what im currently obssesed with and who it asking me for it, but probably currently Captive Prince series, the worldbuilding is tough (i do recommend reading the TWs before unless you're confident in being fine with close to anything, its mostly book one; the other two in comparison are really tame)

BUT THEY'RE SO GOOD the writing is so good, the character's, their dynamic, the tension between them-

Ill add a 5. Because we already have most of my favorite books that i keep rereading and say "Author you've read the most from" because that would be Sarah J Maas, esp the Throne Of Glass series rly also touches smth in me and her stories themes of "dreamers brining the hope for a better world" rly touches me

Rb that with your favorites? 😄

[anyarose011]

The Most "Wonderful" Time of the Year {Angus Tully x Reader}

Summary: Despite a nice trip to the art gallery and ice skating rink, sometimes, Andy Williams just gets it wrong.

Part 8 of ?? (Masterlist)

Warning(s): Swearing, description of nudity (on art), suggestive conversations, minor sexual harassment, a father has issues, fighting, Reader has a knife, and ANGST.

Heyyy guys (senior year, once again, has been kicking my ass and I also started a new mini-series that should be done soon). Again, I'm so sorry for how long it took me to upload and write this, and I know this chapter is short, but I swear it's got good shit in it. It's also fitting to have more chapters around Christmas time since, you know, this be a Christmas movie (yes, Alexander Payne, this can be a standalone movie, but you set it during Christmas so....) Anywho, I hope you like it (and that it breaks your heart :)

Word Count: 5.5k

You hated to admit it, but you actually like history museums. Even though your father always dragged you to them from childhood to adulthood, you didn’t really mind them. Your father’s additional commentary only added to the experience as you walked through the Greek section. It didn’t really for Angus.

“Are we almost done?” He asked.

“Quit whining.” You reprimanded him.

“I’m not.”

Your father chuckled. “What’s your hurry? I thought you liked Antiquity?”

He sighed. “In class, maybe. But I never think about it unless I need to.”

Humming, your father pointed to a casing of ceramics behind you. “Here, what do you see?”

You and Angus turned. Of course, he said. “A bunch of pottery.”

“Look at that one.” He pointed.

You certainly weren’t expecting to see a man diving his dick into a woman as she bent over to pick something up on an ancient Grecian artifact, but there you were in the Boston Fine Arts Museum, jaw on the floor.

“Amy look, a Candy Cane!” Angus teased.

“I hate you.” Was all that managed to leave your lips.

Your father chuckled, shaking his head. “Children, there’s nothing new in human experience. Each generation thinks it invented debauchery or suffering or rebellion, but man’s every appetite and impulse, from the disgusting to the sublime, is on display right here, all around you.” He gestured around the room filled with art. “So, before you dismiss something as boring or irrelevant, remember that if you truly want to understand the present, or yourself, you must begin in the past. History is not merely the past; it’s an explanation of the present.”

Angus nodded. “See, when you say it that way, and throw in some pornography, it’s a lot easier to understand.”

Mr. Hunham glanced over at you, surprised at your lack of outburst. “You’re not going to comment on that?”

“No,” you shrugged. “porn helping men understanding things checks out.”

Angus snorted, turning back to the teacher. “You should try talking more and yelling less in class. You know, most of the kids pretty much hate you. Teachers, too. You know that, right?”

“Hey.” You glared at him as if to say, ‘Lay off’.

Your father nodded, obviously trying not to show the hurt that was apparent on his face. “Well, I appreciate your frequent candidness, Mr. Tully.”

“Sure…” He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

It was then you realized another thing about Angus Tully that reminded you about yourself: You only noticed how horrible your words were as soon as you were done saying them.

The rest of your time at the art museum wasn’t as awkward as that entire scene, thankfully. The sun had completely set by the time you had exited, and the three of you made your way to the park. It almost made you laugh how quick Angus was to the booth to rent ice skates.

“Have you been ice skating before?” He asked as you both sat on the bench, tying up your skates.

“Once when I was eight, I think. You?”

“I played hockey until high school.” He finished tying his and stood. “And I go every chance I get when I’m in the city.”

“So, you should only fall if I push you, right?”

“Right.”

You smiled after double knotting your ice skates and approached the entrance to the rink. “My feet feel weird.”

“Yeah, you haven’t been skating for almost ten years.” He teased, walking past you and standing on the ice with ease.

Sighing, you took a step out and immediately started flailing. Still, the two of you laughed when you retreated back to solid ground. “Nope.”

Angus begged. “Come on.”

“Nuh uh, not going to do it.”

“Your dad paid a good two dollars for us to skate, and you’re going to waste it?” He joked.

“Two dollars doesn’t mean anything to my father if I’m dead!”

“You’re not going to die.”

“But-.”

He said your name with the right amount of sincerity and playfulness. “You can hold onto me. I’ll cushion you if you do fall.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you still held onto the side railing, but stepped out onto the ice. Taking a deep breath, you began walking.

“You don’t want to do that.” Angus skated by your side at your pace.

“I’m alright.” You struggled to say.

He scoffed, holding out his hand. “Yeah, I can tell. Come on.”

You stared down at it as if he had never touched you before. Still, you took it. You expected him to pull you out into the center and leave you there for dead (or try to figure out how to skate on your own), but instead, you stayed by the wall.

“Okay, you’re gonna want to lean forward, and just glide; don’t walk.” He explained, showing you.

“I’ll fall.”

“No, you won’t. Just trust me.”

Against what your nervous system was saying, you decided to. Leaning forward, you tried to copy him; and it worked for like a few seconds before you started tripping over your own feet. He caught you, of course.

“Hey, not bad!” He held you up so you could stand.

“I almost died.”

“You’re standing on your own though!” He backed away, and you still were. “That’s a good start.”

You wanted to fire a nasty retort at him, but you could only girlishly giggle. You don’t know how long you spent on that ice skating rink with him. Yes, there would be times when your feet would ache, or you’d be a mix of sweaty from the physical labor of skating and freezing from the cold, Massachusetts air. Yet, as you finally gathered your footing, you felt as if you could compete in the next Olympics.

You couldn’t, of course, but you sure had the confidence to do so.

And it was fun to laugh and talk with Angus. It always was, but it felt as if you were both on an actual date as you skated together. To everyone else on that ice rink, you were. When Angus had completely fallen onto the ice (you didn’t actually push him down, he fell on his own), pulling you down with him, you’d nearly forgotten that your father was chaperoning you two as you laughed.

After leaving the rink and taking your skates back, you walked up a set of stairs with your father and Angus, discussing where to go for dinner when-.

“Paul Hunham, is that you?!” A man and a woman approached the three of you with a gleeful look. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Cavanaugh.”

Your father’s face fell for just a moment before laughing. “Yes! Yes, of course. Wow, Hugh Cavanaugh. Oh, how are you, Hugh?”

“Oh God, what’s it been? Thirty years?” He turned to the woman beside him. “Oh, uh this is my wife, Karen. Honey, this is Paul Hunham; we went to Harvard together.”

She smiled, shaking his hand, then yours, then Angus’. “Hello.”

“Yes,” your dad nodded at Hugh’s comment. “yes we did. Uh, wow; what have you been up to, Hugh? Still in the area?”

“Oh, uh, yes-yes I’m still in Boston. Cambridge.”

“Harvard.” Karen said proudly. “He just got tenure, statistics. He won’t blow his own horn, I have to blow it for him.”

“Okay,” Hugh said to change the subject. “what about you, Paul?”

“Oh, still teaching, we have that in common.” He nodded. “History, ancient history.”

“That’s great, that’s great. Where?”

“Abroad mostly.” Your father lied through his teeth on each word. “On fellowships. Privately funded fellowships. Universities and private academies. Mostly fellowships, you know. I’m currently posted in Antwerp. Just back here for the holidays.”

“So, are these your kids?” He pointed to you and Angus.

“Well-.”

“-I’m his nephew, Laurie.” Angus cut in, then looked at you. “This is my cousin, Amy.”

Karen smiled. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Hugh squinted his eyes as if to see you more clearly. Then, he chuckled. “Paul, do you know who she looks like?”

Your father hummed. “I would hope me.”

It was weird to hear your mother’s full name come out of a stranger’s mouth. He went on. “Do you see it? Same nose, same hair; you are the spitting image of beauty, young lady.”

Snickering, you didn’t even think of thanking him. “I’ve been told I have more of her temper than her looks. Although, our mouths are the same.”

“I have no doubt.” He laughed. “Paul, do you remember that one time freshman year?”

“Oh yes!” Your father pretended to. “When she-it was that one time during Roman history when Nolan-.”

“-Wouldn’t call on her when she was the only one to raise her hand,” Hugh looked back at you as if you didn’t know the story from the set up. “so she fed all the boys in the room the wrong answers for the rest of the class!”

“Yep,” Mr. Hunham nodded. “even I fell victim to it.”

Hugh was the only one who had relatively been amused by the fable. “Never put you and her together.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

The group fell into a strange silence after that. Thank God for Angus Tully.

“He’s writing a book now.” He titled his head toward your father. “Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul.”

“My book.” Your father snickered, then immediately played it off. “It’s not a book, really. Just a monograph. Nothing special.”

You decided to jump in. “Don’t be so modest, dad. It’s about, uh, cameras, right? Ancient cameras?”

Hugh hummed, a quizzical look on his face.

“What she means, of course, is the camera obscura.” Your father explained. “You know, the optical and astronomical tool that dates back to, um, the time of Anaxagoras.

“Tell him the title, Uncle Paul.” Angus went back, and you masked your smile for one of curiosity and not at the misfortune of your father.

“He’s not interested, Laurie.”

Hugh smiled. “Sure, I am.”

Sighing, Paul Hunham said with the perfect amount of enthusiasm and disinterest. “Lights and Magic in the Ancient World.”

Hugh nodded before turning back to his wife, and then to your father, clasping his hand on his shoulder. “Well, Paul, I’m so glad you landed on your feet. You look swell.”

“You too. So, swell.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Amy.” He said to you.

Thinning your lips in a tight smile, you said. “Thanks.”

Him and Karen walked away hand in hand, but he turned over his shoulder. “And we’ll keep an eye out for your book, Paul. Won’t we, honey?”

 She nodded. Of course. Merry Christmas, Paul. Bye, Laurie and Amy.”

You all wished them ‘Merry Christmas’ as you three also left. Angus wasted no time turning to you.

“What the fuck just happened?!”

“You’re asking me?!” You matched him. “You sprung into ‘Tell them about your book, Uncle Paul!’, ‘What’s the title, Uncle Paul?’.”

“I had to think of something!”

Your father sighed. “I appreciated your efforts, but I would’ve been fine on my own.”

Rolling your eyes, you asked. “Can we get dinner now?”

“I need to pick something up from the liquor store first.”

Sighing overdramatically, you and Angus stumbled behind your father. That was when you looked at the boy beside you. “Also, Laurie and Amy? Really?”

“What? They’re like brother and sister. If I said you were Jo, then that would’ve been weird.”

Oh my god, he wasn’t even halfway through the book.

You wish you had a camera solely to capture the look on your father’s face as he turned over and stared at both of you. You wonder if that was when he found out about you and Angus.

Shaking your head, you didn’t know whether to laugh or scoff as you said. “Unbelievable.”

“What do you mean ‘unbelievable’?” Angus questioned. “Jo and Laurie get married in the end, right?”

“Unbelievable.” You repeated but smiled this time.

“Right?!”

Your father sighed as you finally made it to the store. “Look, the fact of the matter is, what happened, happened, and we should just pretend it didn’t.”

Angus furrowed his brow as you all walked in. “I thought Barton men don’t lie. Don’t get me wrong, that was fun, but you just lied through your teeth.”

He held up his hand, not having it. “What I say during a private conversation is none of your goddamn business. You’re not to judge me.”

“It wasn’t a private conversation; your daughter and I were there. Besides, he brought her into it.”

“I’m right here.” You announced yourself.

“Why’d he ask if you landed on your feet?”

Your father glanced up from searching through the shelves. “What is this, Nuremberg?”

“You’re the hardass constantly telling everybody not to lie and going on about the honor code!”

Looking up at both of you, Paul Hunham sighed. “There was an incident at Harvard with my roommate.”

You gave him a look. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

“He accused me of copying from his senior thesis. Plagiarizing.”

“Well, did you?” Angus asked.

“No! He stole from me.” Your father relented. “But that blue-blooded prick’s family had allies on the faculty. I mean, their last name is on a library, so he accused me in order to sanitize his treachery. And they threw me out.”

“Holy shit,” you breathed. “you got kicked out for cheating?”

“No, I got kicked out of Harvard for hitting him.”

Angus asked. “You hit him? Like punched him out?”

“No, I hit him with a car.”

“You got kicked out of Harvard for hitting a guy with a car?!”

“By accident,” he approached the counter, talking to the cashier. “Pint of Jim Beam, please.”

You piped up, still in astonishment. “Mom said you left because your grandma was dying.”

“She was, it was just perfect timing to go and help take care of her.” He shrugged. “But my roommate broke three ribs. Which was technically his fault, because he shouldn’t have been in the road.

“Two dollars, please.” The cashier said.

Your father took his wallet out, continuing his story. “Also, he shat himself; which was the greatest indignity.”

The cashier handed him the wrapped-up bottle. “Here you go, killer.”

You couldn’t help your laughter at the sudden statement. As the three of you left and walked down the darkened, cold roads, Angus said.

“So, Mr. Hunham never even graduated college? Holy shit, you didn’t even finish up somewhere else? Who else knows?”

“Did mom even know about you hitting the guy?” You asked.

Your father nodded. “Of course she knew! She gave me an earful on the phone the first time she called me after I left. It was only Dr. Greene who knew it after that. He’d always believed in me, so he gave me a job. Adjunct faculty: zero respect and even less pay, so nobody batted an eye, and I’ve been at the school ever since.”

“Are you ashamed at how things turned out?” Angus questioned.

“Not at all. I’m proud of my work, I love history, I married the smartest and kindest woman on the planet, I helped raise a spitfire of a girl, I love Barton. Barton is my life now. I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

“Then why did you lie to that guy?”

“Because I knew he’d relish the fact that I’m a washout and never left my own high school. And he’d probably repeat that story to everybody we used to know. So, I figured he’s not entitled to my story. I am. “

Angus nodded. “Yeah. Fuck that guy.”

“Exactly. Fuck that guy!”

“Fuck him, I hope his car slides on black ice and crashes into a lamp post.” You chimed in.

“Woah,” Angus gasped.

Your father said your name scoldingly.

“What?” You scoffed. “It was weird as hell when he talked to me about my mom like he knew me.”

“I’ll admit it was strange and unnecessary.” Your father tossed his arm around your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He looked at both you and Angus. “But you’ll keep this quiet, right? No one is to know.”

“Entre nous, sir.” Angus nodded. “Entre nous.”

Your father nodded then chuckled, poking you. “‘Ancient cameras’. Where’d the hell you come up with that?”

“I tried my best!” You whined. After the men ceased in their laughter, you then said. “Can we please get dinner now?”

“Alright, alright.” Your father snorted. “Where would you like to go for your absolutely atrocious food concoction?”

“South Street.”

“I figured.”

And that is where the three of you went. It shouldn’t have surprised you it was packed the day after Christmas, which was also a Saturday. It had to have been a miracle you managed to get in line only when it was starting to go out the door; a few minutes after you arrived, the line had started to curve around to the nearest streetlight.

The diner was filled with life once you got in; families pushing tables together, friends absolutely drunk off their asses laughing, even half of the staff seemed to be enjoying the sheer joy from others. Of course, a few were understandably stressed and annoyed from the number of customers and their behavior.

The three of you were soon sitting at a booth. When Angus sat close to the window, instead of sliding into the seat across from him, you took the one beside him. Leaving your father alone on the other side. To ordinary people, it perhaps didn’t mean anything; but you still felt as if it was a signal.

“I can’t believe they’re still playing Christmas music.” Your father grumbled as The Ronettes sang about a sleigh ride and he slipped off his jacket.

You giggled, copying him. “It was just yesterday.”

“I know, but still.”

“I like this song, thank you very much.”

He held up his menu as if to hide his disgust. You and the boy beside you chucked as Angus said. “I feel like I’ve been here before.”

“You don’t know if you have?” You asked.

“It feels familiar. Maybe when I was a kid?”

“We’d always come here when we’d visit Boston.” You looked at your father. “The owner gave me a free banana split when I turned twelve, he knew us so well, right?”

That managed to pull a laugh out of him. “That he did. If he’s here tonight maybe you could get a free dinner for us.”

You and Angus looked down at the menu before you, and soon enough, an exhausted waitress came by to take your drink orders and lay down silverware. Immediately, you asked for French fries and your favorite milkshake.

“There’s no way that’s going to be good.” Angus pointed out.

“Oh, ye of little faith.” You scoffed.

“That’s not faith, that’s fact.”

“What you’re speaking of is an opinion, not even a theory. If you ever want to make it in this world, I suggest you learn the different between those two before you can even begin to comprehend what an actual fact is.”

“And what is an actual fact?”

“You’re an idiot.”

He smirked despite the fact you insulted him. You also couldn’t hide your own smile. It was apparent from anyone in that room, it was not a smile of victory; it was one synonymous with the feeling inside of your chest as it felt like your own heart would burst forth like light.

Your father had felt this feeling before, so it was not lost on him.

“You seem awfully happy to have your entire statement dismantled, Mr. Tully.” He said to Angus.

The boy looked up, still with a smile but one not as euphoric. “I mean, I wasn’t that serious about it.”

“Oh, and I didn’t think you were. It just astounds me how close you two became in a matter of a few days.” He said. “Wasn’t it only yesterday you both were at each other’s throats?”

You stepped in. “No, that was the first few days, actually. I mean, we were the only kids at Barton after that, so it’s probably best we figured how to deal with each other. I guess we both liked some of the same things too, so that made it easier.”

“Yeah.” Angus nodded.

Your father straightened his gaze between the two of you, but then smiled, getting up from the booth. “I have to use the facilities; don’t go anywhere.”

“No papa,” you teased. “we’re going to go do a line of cocaine with the homeless man a few blocks away.”

“You know, I’m beginning to believe that you’re the bad influence on Mr. Tully and not the other way around.”

With that, he left the two of you by yourselves as he walked to the back of the diner. Once he was gone, you and Angus cackled to yourselves.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked, a hint of concern mixed in with delight.

“I don’t know, probably.” He shrugged, still chuckling. “Is that so bad?”

“I mean…I’ve never had a boyfriend before.” You admitted, smiling shyly.

Even though the rest of the diner was booming with Christmas music and leftover excitement from the holidays, it all fell silent between you two. The boy who was once radiated in the happiness you shared with him, now covered in a shroud of terror.

Well…in reality, he was alarmed, not terrified; yet, that is all you saw.

“Shit I-!” You realized what you had just said. “I didn’t mean-I mean, we don’t have to be together, I just meant that I’ve never had someone like me back when I’ve liked them, and even then, it didn’t happen very often-.”

“-Hey, hey.” He stopped you. “No, I’ve never had that happen either. I mean, I’ve been to all boys’ schools since I was fourteen. I think…yeah, I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“Really?” You felt the weight from your shoulders loosen as your face brightened.

He nodded, glowing with you. “Really.”

You glanced up at the bathroom door, and when there was no sight of your father, you took his face into your hands, pulling him into a kiss. It wasn’t as intense as your previous ones, but not as quick as the one you gave him outside the bookstore.

He pulled away first, and before you could say anything about it, you saw the waitress leave from the corner of your eye. She had brought the drinks, including your milkshake and fries. Turning back towards the table, you immediately picked up a fry and dipped it into the milkshake.

“Oh my god, you weren’t joking.” Angus said with no emotion behind it.

“I know I’m funny, but this I would not joke about.” You talked as you ate. “Try it.”

“No.”

“I’ll kiss you if you do.” You took another fry.

“You’ll kiss me anyway.”

“I’ll kiss you like how the French do.”

“You already do that.”

 “I’ll do something different.”

His eyes grew, and he huffed out a surprised laugh. “‘Something different’?”

“Yeah.” You dipped a third fry. “I don’t know what, but I’ll do it.”

 “Not that you have to, but fine I’ll try it.” Angus reached for a fry, then dipped it into your milkshake and ate it.

Angus’ face went through more arrays of emotions in a short time since you met him. You grinned from ear to ear. “Well?”

“Fuck off.” He tried to hide his smile as he took another fry.

“I’m sorry, what?” You taunted.

“It’s not the best-.”

“-I’m sorry, what?!” You repeated louder, and you both were talking over each other. “It sounds like-!”

“You don’t have to be so-!”

“It sounds like you actually like it!”

“You’re so loud.”

You finished with laughter, and then kissed his cheek. You returned to your milkshake and fries as Angus talked about something funny that happened back in the fall. You can’t remember what he said to this day, because a familiar voice entered your ears as it entered the diner.

Angus kept talking to you, but it was in one ear and out the other as you tried your best not to show your discomfort at the man who laughed a little louder than the rest of the people in the diner. When you thought Angus wasn’t paying attention, you glanced over your shoulder at the entrance.

There he stood; a man around the same age as your father with a woman perhaps ten or fifteen years younger than him, holding a baby on her hip, and clutching her seven-year-old daughter’s hand.

Despite what Andy Williams was singing from the jukebox, this was not the most wonderful time of the year.

Angus tapped your shoulder, and you drew your eyes away to look at him.

“Hey, I hate this song, I’m gonna go change it.” He said. You got out of the booth for him to stand, and once he did you sat back down. Only for him to then say. “Okay, scoot over.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Scoot over.”

“You didn’t even change the song.”

“I changed my mind, it’s not that bad.”

He was bullshitting you, but you scooted over anyway, and he sat beside you. “What’s going on?”

You scoffed. “You’re the one that got up and sat down again.”

“Is that guy Daniel?”

“Angus-.”

“-Tell me.”

“Is he bothering you?”

Both you and Angus looked and saw the man from the entrance stand before you with his hands in his pockets. You dropped your gaze.

“No, he’s not.”

You had no idea what you hated more that night: hearing a man you never met say your mother’s name, or hearing a man you knew too well say yours.

“If he is, just say the word and-.”

“-He’s not bothering me.” You hissed.

Angus slipped his hand into yours as you kept your eyes down, but he kept his trained on the man standing in front of him.

He sighed, shaking his head. “Look, I just didn’t expect you to actually show up.”

You didn’t say anything, so Angus did.

“Could you go? She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He ignored him, still angling on you. “Look, sweetie, you don’t have to, and I get it if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you came and meet them. They’re all right here now; Carol, Maria, and Frankie. He just turned one last week-.”

“-Can you just fuck off?” You finally looked at him.

He tilted his head and raised his brows before looking at Angus. “Young man, could you give her and I some privacy-?”

“-No.”

The man looked at you, scoffing. “Jesus Christ, what’d you do to make him so fucking head over heels for you? Was that the issue just now between you two? Under the table action?”

Angus stood. “Fuck you, what’s your problem?”

You pulled on his sleeve, hissing his name and kneeling on top of your seat to try and get him to sit back down. The man continued to taunt him.

“My problem is that you don’t know what’s going on boy, and you’re being a little prick about all of this.”

“Get the fuck out of here or I’ll…”

“‘You’ll-you’ll what?’” He looked over at you. “I can’t tell if you picked the bravest or the stupidest kid to fool around with, Eurydice.”

You were always a strange child growing up. Perhaps it was that there are times in your life you picture music whenever a certain emotion arose within you.

As you heard him say that name, a name that you heard last when your mother was dying in her bed, a name that was only for her to use and her alone…You heard Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saëns.

You don’t even remember grabbing the stupid butter knife from your silverware, just raising it up above you and believing it would cause any harm. As Angus held you back, the man reached over you to grab your hair.

Chaos ensued for a moment in the diner as you cried out when he pulled the ribbon out of your hair, and both him and Angus engaged in a battle of expletives. Most of the diners held back and watched in shock, while only two of them came up. A man stood between him and Angus, and the wife of the yelling man pulled him away.

“Daniel, what the hell is going on?!” She hissed.

“Yes, Daniel,” all eyes fell onto Paul Hunham, who was behind Daniel. “what is the meaning of this?”

You shrunk back in the booth, Angus hugging you tightly against him as if to hide you from Daniel. Both of you stared at the scene before you.

“Paul…” Daniel nodded, standing taller and holding his wife’s hand.

Mr. Hunham nodded back. “Your Christmas went well I take it?”

“It was fine; yours?”

“Just peachy.” He gave a tight smile, looking around at everyone else. “Family matters everyone, I sincerely apologize.”

Hesitantly, the crowd went back to their own business; or they were at least good at pretending to as they eavesdropped. Mr. Hunham continued.

“Why’re you here exactly?”

“The same as you.” Daniel explained. “Dinner with my family.”

He hummed. “And you thought it wise to inform the child in the scenario but not me?”

“Now wait a minute-.”

“-I assume your wife also didn’t know about this or the letters and money you sent?”

At the mention of her, Daniel’s wife scowled. “Danny, what’s he talking about?”

He shook his head. “Hunham, you should just mind your own-.”

“-Well now you see, I can’t do that, because her mother trusted me to provide and care for her.”

It was only then did Angus Tully understand what exactly had been going on. As the adults fought, he looked down at you in his arms. It was as if it were the first time he had seen you, and it was the first time he noticed that he could not find a trace of Mr. Hunham.

The eyes he thought you had gotten from your mother stared up at him with dread, and when Angus looked back at the man seething with unspoken rage, he saw them there too.

“Look,” Paul sighed. “I don’t want to cause another scene, so let us handle this like men. You will not make contact with her again, and we can walk away.”

He took a heaving breath before responding. “Fine by me. Come on, Carrie.”

Daniel began to lead her away from your booth, but Paul stopped them. “I believe you have something of my daughter’s.”

His eyes trailed down to the ribbon in his hand. He let go of his wife to walk back to Paul who held his hand out. Instead of giving it to him, he turned to Angus, smiling. He handed it to him.

“Keep her on a short leash, boy. She’s got her mother’s mouth.”

With that, he and his wife and children left the South Street Diner. You only pulled away from Angus when he did from you. No tears had fallen onto your cheeks, but that didn’t mean they weren’t stinging your eyes as you tried to keep them at bay.

You took the ribbon from Angus only for it to hang loosely at your side. Paul softened his gaze as he began to put on his jacket.

“I think we should just settle on room service tonight.” He said gently. “I can get them to bag up the fries and let you take the milkshake glass?”

You could only nod, not wanting to look at either of the men with you. You all put on your coats in silence, and Angus, though not hugging you, hovered as Mr. Hunham spoke with the staff; both about not wanting to report the incident, and also on paying extra for you to take the glass.

It was so cold out, and everyone was so tired from not just the events of the night, but the entire day, that Paul splurged on a cab for the three of you back to the hotel.

Angus also didn’t feel shame in trying to hold you hand in front of your father; or…stepfather. You limply held his hand back, but you leaned against him as you sat in the cab, staring at the Boston Christmas lights as the city passed by you.

When the cab made it to the hotel, you led the way in a tired haze to the elevators. It wasn’t just the three of you in the elevator; there was a somewhat large family that piled in, all merry and jolly and reeking of chlorine from the pool they had just swum in.

It was as if God himself was rubbing salt into the wounds, tempting you to lick them.

When you made it onto your floor, you also led the way back to your connecting rooms. There was no ‘Goodnight’ or ‘Can we stay up just a little longer?’ to your companions; you simply opened your door and shut it in their faces.

Setting the milkshake down, you tossed off your jacket and pulled your shoes off. Collapsing on the bed, you looked down at the ribbon still in your hand…and you cried.

[burntheedges]

The Hunter

Din Djarin x f!reader | 4.2k | ao3 | masterlist

summary: you were used to seeing all sorts of beings around Daiyu, but a Mandalorian was still unexpected.

a/n: @deathwife happy @pedrostories secret santa! 🧡 I hope you like this fic! I saw "Din" and "cyberpunk" and ran with it. It was fun (let me know how I did with the aesthetic, lol). Thank you to @katareyoudrilling for beta-ing (and keeping me on track).

tags/warnings: bounty hunting, flirting, fluff, canon-typical violence (while bounty hunting, ex. shooting blasters, fighting, etc.), touching, reader is not described but wears black pants, can run and climb and sneak around, set vaguely while Din is still bounty hunting, I played fast and loose with the layout of Daiyu lol

You saw him once before he ever saw you.

Crouched on a ledge well above street level, you watched the crowds ebb and flow below. It was somehow even more crowded than usual, with the new year holiday only a week away. You were in the second-largest marketplace in one of the nicer (but still not nice) neighborhoods on Daiyu. The neon lights from the shops and stalls around you kept you hidden, out of sight behind a sign, almost camouflaged in your matte black clothing. You were alert, looking for someone, when you saw him out of the corner of your eye.

At first you thought it was just something shiny that caught your attention. You turned your head slightly to look closer and found yourself staring at the back of a shiny silver helmet. You blinked. 

A Mandalorian?

You moved silently to the other side of your small ledge, trying to get a better look at him in the crowd. He turned slowly in a circle, obviously scanning the people around him. He didn’t look up at your ledge as you took him in. The neon lights around him reflected off of his extremely shiny armor, painting him in pinks and greens and blues. He was tall and broad, and you tilted your head as you watched him move smoothly through the crowd. You weren’t sure the people around him even noticed how quickly they moved out of his way.

He turned into an alleyway and you moved to follow him without any conscious decision to do so. You scaled the short ladder to your right, jogged lightly over the balcony on the third floor of the neighboring building, and turned the corner.

By the time you got there, he was gone.

…

Two nights later, you were walking slowly through the same market, a few streets over from where you first saw him, when you saw him again.

This time, you caught sight of him in the crowd in front of you. He was moving steadily forwards, helmet turning side to side as he searched the crowd around him again. You wondered who he might be looking for – it wasn’t uncommon for bounties to hide out on Daiyu, after all. 

Your own target would be occupied for at least the next few hours. Without examining the impulse too closely, you shifted your focus to the shiny Mandalorian and started to follow him through the crowd. 

He took his time, you noticed. His steps were unhurried and his scan was thorough. As he led you closer to the eastern edge of the market, you wondered if he even knew where he was headed. 

Daiyu was essentially one big city, but the levels and neighborhoods were often so different from each other that it was like being in many different cities at once. The eastern edge of this market followed a remnant of the planet’s original topography – a river ran along the surface, far, far below where you were now. But the tall, many-storied industrial zone that sat atop the river interrupted the city streets. 

That is, unless you knew how to get through it.

As the Mandalorian approached what basically seemed like a dead-end, you turned and scaled one of the balconies to your right. You settled in about 3 meters back and 4 meters above his head, crouched in a shadow, wondering what he might do next.

He looked to either side, seeming to take in the way the buildings stopped just before the wall, leaving a tiny path along its face. 

And then, to your surprise, he turned and looked straight up at you. You masked your reaction and raised one eyebrow. “Lost, Mando?”

He tilted his head, and the deep voice that came out of the helmet made you shiver. “What makes you say that?”

You shrugged. “Well, you hit a dead end. Where are you headed?”

For a long moment, he just looked at you. You wondered what he saw. Then he shifted his weight. “It was you. The other night in the market.”

You blinked. “Me?”

“Following me.” You scoffed, but he stepped back to scan you up and down. “Looking for me?” 

There was an edge to his voice, and you heard the potential threat underlying the question. You laughed. “Mando, it’s not my fault you’re shiny. How do you sneak anywhere, when you light up like that?” You gestured at his armor, which was still reflecting the neon lights hanging everywhere along the street. 

He didn’t answer your question. “Then why follow me? Again?”

“What, a girl can’t be curious?” You sighed. “My stakeout got a little boring. And you really are very shiny, you know.”

He stared at you, but you noticed some of the tension leave his shoulders. “Go back to your stakeout.”

You stood on the balcony as he turned back towards the wall. “You can’t get through that way.” He looked over his shoulder at you and seemed surprised to find you standing. You dropped down from the balcony as he watched. “You need to go about 10 minutes south,” you pointed to the right, “that entrance is usually less well guarded.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.”

You shrugged. “Local,” you said, gesturing at yourself. You wondered if he would ask for help, but he started to walk away from you. 

Just before he turned the corner, he looked back again. “Thanks.”

Before you could say anything in response, he was gone. 

…

To your surprise, you didn’t have to wait long to see the mysterious Mandalorian again.

The next night you were loitering outside of a bar (technically, you were sitting and having a drink at the stall across the street, completely blending in with your surroundings), tracking your target inside, when a familiar shiny reflection caught your eye. 

He was lit up in orange and purple, this time, and he was walking straight towards you.

“Mando,” you greeted when he stopped next to your table. “Still on the hunt?”

“As are you.” His voice was even, but it was an interesting observation. You wondered if he was as intrigued by you as you were by him. 

You gestured at the bar across the street, which had a line down the block of people waiting to get in. “On another stakeout.”

He tilted his head and shifted his weight. “Who are you?”

You smiled. “Figured out I’m not a bounty hunter?” When he didn’t answer, you continued, “a bit of a freelancer. I find people. Information. Not like you, though.”

He seemed to think about that for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Thanks for the tip, about the factory.”

“Anytime.”

For a moment you both said nothing as you looked at each other, but you seemed to gather your courage at the same time.

“Mando, d’you–”

“I should–”

You both stopped, and you laughed. “Do you want a drink?”

He shook his head and stook a step back. “I should go.” Before you could respond, he turned and started down the street. You wanted to call after him, but your target surprised you by slipping out of the door across the street before you could think of what to say. You turned your attention back to your job and tried to put your mysterious, shiny Mandalorian out of your mind.

…

You didn’t see him for a couple of days, and as you wrapped up your own case, you figured he must have located his bounty. You put together the data packet for your client and tried not to dwell on the fact that he was probably off planet, already. 

You don’t even know his name.

Sighing, you stood from your desk in your tiny office and decided to treat yourself to your favorite cheap street food, from the stall that was kind of out of the way but always so good. You locked up and headed out.

You weren’t sure why the Mandalorian seemed to fill your thoughts, but you found yourself thinking about him again the entire walk to your dinner. He was obviously fit – those shoulders - but that didn’t change the fact that he was a bounty hunter you barely knew. You didn’t really know him at all.

As you joined the line at the stall, you resolved to put him out of your mind.

Of course, right at that moment you felt a presence fall into step with you. You smiled as you looked to your right, already knowing what you would find.

“Mando,” you greeted, crossing your arms. “Figured you’d be gone by now.”

He made a little huffing noise, and you wondered if you’d just made him laugh.

“Still here.” You moved forward in line and he moved with you. “I…” he trailed off, and you noticed the tension in his arms. Was he nervous? “I could use your help.”

Your eyebrows flew upwards and you knew your shock was written all over your face. “Me? I’m not a bounty hunter.”

He shook his head. “I know. But you’re good. And you know this place.” He gestured at the city around you. “He keeps slipping through my fingers, he clearly knows his way around.”

You took a moment to study him. You wanted to say yes and jump right in, but you reminded yourself you still didn’t know this man. No matter how interesting he seemed. “Alright, Mando. Buy me dinner and we’ll talk.” He tensed, but you smiled. “Don’t worry, Mando. Wait ‘til you see the prices.”

He did, in fact, seem relieved when he saw how cheap the stall was. There was a reason it was so popular.

Dinner in hand, though he refused to get something for himself, you led him around the corner and upwards until you were perched on a half-roof that jutted out from where two buildings had been combined in some sort of wonky construction merger that left just part of the original roof alone. You knew there was no roof access from the inside, so it was a great place to sit if you knew how to get to it otherwise. It was even partially hidden by a large advertisement. He followed, scaling the wall behind you effortlessly.

“Alright,” you said, once you and the Mandalorian had settled into your new surroundings. “What’s the problem?”

He retrieved a bounty puck from a pouch at his waist and turned it on. You noticed how big his hands were in comparison with the puck, but brushed the thought aside. “Bounty’s local – a Twi’lek named Lidar Tas. He knows this place too well, knows just where to hide.”

You nodded. You’d heard of Tas and his gang of mudscuffers. “Never met him, but, well. His name is pretty well-known.”

He nodded. “I’ve heard people talking about him, been chasing him for almost two weeks. Almost had him in the factory, but I swear he went into one of the water chutes on purpose.”

The Mandalorian sounded incredulous, and you couldn’t help but smile. “He probably did. Some of them are kept empty, but you wouldn’t know the schedule or which ones without an in at the factory. Or a local. It’s still dangerous but I can see why he’d go for it, running from you.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I figured. Couldn’t even tell which one he went into, though.”

You hummed sympathetically. “Any idea where he’s going next?”

He nodded, and put away the puck. “He’ll be over in the western market again, for the festival. I was hoping you could help me prepare for whatever escape routes he might take.”

You tilted your head, unable to hold back your question any longer. “Why me?”

He turned toward you slightly. “I can tell you know what you’re doing. That first night, I knew someone was tailing me, but I couldn’t find you. And you clearly know your way around.”

You smiled again, a bit flattered. “Really? Just from that?” 

“I know real skill when I see it.” 

“Alright,” you agreed. “Well, then how do you feel about having a second set of eyes?”

He stiffened. “I can’t–”

But you were already shaking your head. “No payment necessary, Mando. I’m happy to help.”

He moved his head in such a way that you thought he might be frowning. “No, I can pay you a fair share of the bounty. I don’t want to put you in danger.”

You scoffed. “Which one of us knows this place? I’ll be fine. People are used to seeing me, the locals won’t even blink if they do. I promise.” He hesitated, and you smiled again. “Come on, Mando. It’ll be fun.”

He made that small huffing noise again, and you were certain this time it was a laugh. You grinned.

“Alright, but if I tell you to back off, promise you’ll do it? I don’t want you hurt.”

You nodded. That seemed fair, even though you knew you could take care of yourself. In agreement, you settled in to plan.

…

The next night you resolutely ignored the fact that you were putting on the black pants that made your ass look amazing. And the jacket that you knew made you look cool and tough (according to your friends). 

You met up with the Mandalorian well away from the market, and found him leaning against the corner of a repair shop. You smiled, knowing he was trying to be inconspicuous, but he couldn’t hide from the neon lights and the way they reflected off of his armor. 

“You know, he probably saw you coming,” you said, gesturing at his armor. 

He sighed. “He did, early on. Tipped him off.”

“You’re just too shiny, Mando.” You laughed and you swore he must have rolled his eyes at you. 

His helmet tilted as he looked you up and down, and you ignored the heat that rose in your face. “It’s impressive, you know. That you can hide around here as well as you do.”

You shrugged. “The secret is to only wear black, obviously.” You smiled. “Should we get started?” You both knew the plan, and you knew where you’d be as a lookout. He nodded and turned to walk towards the festival. 

“Hey, Mando, wait,” you said. He stopped and turned to look at you. “I just realized, I never told you my name.”

He turned back towards you and regarded you silently for a moment. “I won’t tell you mine.”

This didn’t surprise you. “That’s alright. I can keep calling you Mando.” You told him your name and did not fidget. 

He nodded, once, and repeated it. You tried to hide the way you shivered at the sound. “Let’s go.”

…

You split up as you headed to the market, and soon enough you were in one of your normal perches – a balcony well hidden by a neon sign. It gave you a good vantage point without being too bright, at least from the back. The colors and flashing lights also obscured the fact that you were lurking behind them.

“In position,” Mando murmured over your comm. You’d dug up an old ear piece so you didn’t have to fidget with anything. You realized suddenly that maybe this wasn’t the best choice. HIs voice was deep and gravely and it felt like he was right next to you, speaking lowly into your ear. “No sign yet.”

You shook yourself lightly and cleared your throat. “Nothing here.”

You were both silent for a moment. You forced yourself to scan the crowded street below and do your job.

“Target spotted, moving north past the theater,” his low voice murmured in your ear. You shivered as you turned left to look. Sure enough, Tas was walking with a small group past the theater. He looked strangely carefree for someone who knew he was being hunted by a Mandalorian. Maybe he thought the hunter had given up?

“I see him,” you replied. “He’ll pass me soon.”

The Mandalorian was further up the road to your right, staying out of sight (and away from the neon lights). You knew he had to be using some sort of fancy equipment to spot Tas from so far away. 

Tas and his group stopped, suddenly, and you realized where they were going before they turned. “Mando, Tas must be doing a deal tonight. He’s going inside the casino, just him and one of his lackeys.”

The casino was decorated for the holiday with even brighter lights than normal. The facade was almost obscured by the number of moving lights and shapes. You knew people like Tas used it to do business rather than gamble. Though maybe they did both – you wouldn’t know, as you’d never been inside.

“I’m heading your way,” he replied, and you could hear the crowd on the street in the background. “Do you know where they’d go?”

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ve never been inside. Kriff, I’m sorry, Mando. I just know there’s a back door down the alley, I’ve had to watch it before.”

For a moment the Mandalorian didn’t respond, and you felt your own disappointment start to roil in your gut. But then he surprised you.

“I don’t want to ask this of you.” His voice was low and apologetic. “I can’t go inside, they’ve seen me. Do you think you can without attracting notice? If it’s too dangerous, tell me.”

You hesitated, thinking about it. There were people streaming in and out of the casino – it was probably crowded for the festival. It should be easy to hide inside, with all those people. 

You’d been silent too long, you realized, when the Mandalorian started to say your name.

“I can do it,” you cut him off. “It’s way more crowded than usual, with all the people here for the festival. No one’ll look twice at me.” You looked down at your outfit and nodded. It could pass, you thought. 

He said your name again. “Only if you’re sure you can stay under the radar. I don’t want–”

But you were already moving. You dropped down into an alley a block over and made your way back to the casino. “I’ll be ok, Mando. I’ll check in soon.”

“Be careful. Don’t take any risks.” You tried not to read into the emotion you could hear in his voice.

It was too late for you to respond as you stepped up to the door. The Bothan working the door looked you up and down and then waved you in, looking bored.

You took a deep breath as you stepped inside.

It was about what you’d expected. Not quite seedy, but not exactly opulent. Everything was lit up in lurid red and purple lights. It was decorated for the festival but that didn’t hide the fact that overall, the place had seen better days. You scanned the room as you walked and headed towards the bar along the south wall.

When you ordered a drink, you let the Mandalorian hear it over the comm. You settled in at the bar and thanked whoever designed the tacky interior for all the mirrors they’d installed above the bar. You scanned the room slowly. There were tables for every gambling game you could name and many you couldn’t. Your eyes caught on a door in the back corner, hidden in shadow. Tas’s lackey was hoving right outside of it.

You let your gaze keep wandering across the mirrors as you brought your drink to your mouth. “Northeast corner. Guy outside the door,” you murmured, barely moving your mouth. You heard a sharp intake of breath.

“The side door?” he sounded out of breath, and you wondered what he was up to.

“Think so,” you agreed, taking another sip. “Right spot.”

“Stay there,” he said, voice firm. “I’m going in.”

You didn’t respond, afraid to distract him. Your mind played you images of the Mandalorian bursting into a room and being outnumbered, and you took a deep breath. He knows what he’s doing. You kept an eye on the door.

The next few minutes were excruciating. You waited, straining to hear anything, but unable to, over the crowd and the ringing of the games.

You didn’t hear anything, but you noticed when the lackey outside the door went suddenly tense. You watched as he turned towards the door and without hesitation, you got up and moved to follow.

The room seemed much larger when you turned, ready to cross it towards the door. There were people in your way, people you had to shove past, and by the time you shouldered and elbowed your way to the other side of the floor the lackey was gone and the door was shut. You eyed it, wondering if you should go through. 

The unmistakable sound of a blaster made the decision for you.

Before you realized you were moving, your hand was on the door and you were yanking it open. You were surprised to find a hallway, rather than a room, but there was only one door at the other end. You ran to it.

You took a deep breath instead of barreling through the second door. You pressed your ear to it, but you didn’t hear anything inside. Easing it open, you found a room full of storage shelves. You heard rustling towards the back. 

Stepping softly, you started to edge around the first shelf. You looked down the row and your heart started racing.

The Mandalorian was at the far end of the room, tying the hands of Lidar Tas. He was surrounded by bodies, all clearly down, except for one man sneaking out from between two shelves about halfway between you and Mando. It was the lackey who had been outside the door.

You froze, but only for a moment.

When the man turned and silently lifted his blaster, you were already there, tackling him to the ground. You knocked the blaster away before he even realized what was happening. By the time you’d knocked him out and looked up at Mando, he was already looking at you. 

You grinned. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He laughed. You could tell, even though you couldn’t hear it.

“You’re alright?” he asked, and you felt your face heat, though you weren’t sure why. 

You nodded. “Just fine. Came when I saw him move, and then heard the blasters.”

He stood and tugged Tas up, throwing the unconscious Twi’lek over his shoulder. You were a bit taken aback at his strength. “I need to get him to my ship. Could you, well. It would be easier if I could get there without going through the crowds.”

“I can help with that.” You smiled as you walked past him to the back door. “Come on, Mando. Where’s your ship?”

You heard a blaster fire, and whirled around. The Mandalorian was already putting his blaster back in its holster, and you realized he’d just shot the man you knocked out. “Mando?” You weren’t exactly sad to see one of Tas’ men dead, but you were a bit surprised.

“He might have seen you,” he said. “I told you, I won’t put you in danger.”

You looked down, trying not to see that as sweet.

“Alright. Come on, Mando.”

Your trip to the shipyard was surprisingly uneventful. Once you arrived, you weren’t sure what to do, so you followed him up the ramp of his ship and watched as he put Tas in carbonite.

You realized, suddenly, that he was going to leave. The disappointment you felt at the realization seemed hugely out of proportion with the short time you’d known him, and yet… your stomach sank, and you bit your lip.

You didn’t want him to go.

He turned from the freezer, and you could see it in the angle of his shoulders. He was about to say goodbye. So you spoke before he could.

“Well, Mando,” you said, aiming for a lighter tone and missing by a mile, “you sure you have to go? It’s been fun, having you around.”

He shifted his weight. “I have to turn him in.” He sounded reluctant, and you felt something like excitement start to build in your chest. Maybe he didn’t want to go yet.

“Of course,” you agreed. “But, you know, it is a holiday. If you wanted to stick around for another night.” You tried not to fidget as you looked at him. He didn’t respond, and as his silence started to stretch, the excitement started to turn to embarrassment. 

You sucked in a sharp breath and started to turn away. “I’ll just–”

Before you could even take a step, there was a gloved hand on your arm. A large, warm hand. You shivered.

“One more night?” he murmured, and you felt him step up behind you. The warmth of his body made you want to lean back into him. He squeezed your arm. 

“Yes,” you said, and you were surprised at how breathy your voice sounded.

He stepped even closer, somehow, and his armor brushed your back. You felt him lean towards you and when he spoke, it was like he was whispering in your ear. “With you?” His voice was deep, so deep.

“Yes,” you said again. 

His helmet came to rest against the side of your head and his free arm slipped around your waist. “The helmet stays on.”

You sighed and leaned back into him. You nodded. “Alright.”

“Then lead the way, mesh’la.” 

You grinned and reached down to lace your fingers together. 

...

Three months later your comm pinged while you were on a stakeout. When you looked at the message, you couldn’t help but smile.

Heading your way for a hunt. You in?

...

a/n: happy holidays!

[leaawrites]

can u write about noel going all out for your one year anniversary, can u write it all romantic and fluffy.. im yearning for lover boy gallagher

Lover Boy Gallagher

Noel Gallagher x fem!reader

Summary: in which, Noel goes all out for their one year anniversary.

Warnings: a bit angst (sorry, can't help myself), swearing, established relationship, fluff, I hope this is how you imagined it!

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist

The house was empty, like most days this time around. With the recording of their new album, all Oasis members were constantly in the studio and rarely anywhere else. Especially not home with their girlfriends or family.

At the beginning of their relationship, Y/n assured Noel that she was fine with being home alone and that her time without him wouldn’t change the love she felt for him. She promised him that exactly a year ago and still held it to this day. Falling for him a bit more with every longing touch they shared when he finally arrived back in their bed late at night. The nights falling short for them both, when they remembered that Noel had to be in the studio the next day and Y/n had a job of her own.

Even with the house being empty, she still tiptoed down the stairs towards the kitchen. For her, there were no expectations as to what Noel might’ve done for their anniversary, though she didn’t expect a lot. Maybe some flowers, a card at best. He was never the best at giving gifts, he knew what he wanted, but knowing what those around him wanted was most often not his strong suit, unless it was something were specific he’d see one day and just buy while waiting for the next opportunity to gift it to someone. If it wasn’t accidental or impulsive, it wouldn’t be much. The biggest present he gave her once for her birthday were a pair of shoes she’d wanted for quite some time already. He’d seen them in a store one day and bought them. Other times, it were just chocolates she’d receive from him.

Still, when she peaked into the living room and onto their dinner table, there was no trace that he even lived there, beside the usual empty coffee mugs or the shoes and coats at the front door. He hadn’t forgotten, had he? He surely hadn’t, Y/n tried to convince herself as she took the empty empty coffee mugs and put them in the sink to clean later. Settling on the sofa and turning the TV on, she thought back to what was hidden in her part of the closet, behind what seemed to be an endless row of dresses. One of them bought just for tonight. Maybe he’d take her out for dinner. A simple reservation could be made quickly with his connections, she thought.

She had noticed his absence, which seemed to be more apparent now than with the album before. Having been friends before, she knew how long he’d usually spent in the studio and how much time he used to spent with his other girlfriends. He was attentive at the beginning of their relationship, what would happen to them after already breaking apart in a year? How much further could they fall? She didn’t want to think about it, but in the quiet of their shared house, there was no around it at some point of the day. Were they truly meant to be like she always believed them to be? Was he truly the man worth fighting for even when her friends told her about all the amazing things their boyfriends - or even husbands - did for them, sacrificing their own time for them? Noel never gave a reason to doubt it, until she spent more time with the TV than him.

The world outside wore a dark grey over the usual green and blue blur of earth and sky. It looked like it might rain in an hour or so. Shutting off the TV, she made her way upstairs again. With a thicker sweater over her body to stay warm and her laptop in her lap, she started getting comfortable on the little patio they had, overlooking their garden and those beyond. She needed to clear her head even when she would freeze while doing so. Working from home was a privilege only the fewest had, but working as a journalist made it all a bit more available for her. The papers she took home from work laid next to her, held safely by an ashtray. Starting to type she started getting lost in the words and stories. Stories that weren’t her own completely, which made it easier to escape reality.

Only coming back once she heard his voice from behind, her fingers stopped typing and felt cold for the first time in two hours. The blood stopped pumping through them like it’d done before, circulating slower and making her hands shake.

“Are you fucking mental?” he asked her, taking the laptop from her lap and pulling her inside. “Are you trying to kill yourself outside in the cold?”

“It’s not even that bad,” she tried to tell him, though her argument was worthless the moment he took her freezing hands in his own, warming them up like he’d always do. Shaking his head he continued cursing her under his breath for behaving like that. ‘How can you do stuff this stupid?’ she could hear him muttering. ‘Scaring me like this.’

“I’m fine,” she tried to convince him once more, smiling in assurance and holding his face with her cold hands, making him shiver at the cold touch. Laughing at his reaction she fell into him, leaning closer and ultimately hugging him. Snuggling her face into his chest and sighing in contempt. “I missed you though.”

“I missed you too, love,” Noel said back, holding her close like he was afraid she’d slip away, into the cold again, leaving the warmth all to himself. What was warmth worth if you were lonely?

Angling her head up, she could see his () eyes already watching her, his eyebrows racing in question as he saw the uncertain look on her face. He’d always know whenever there was something on her mind and he never held her back from speaking her mind. Taking in a deep breath, she let out in a small voice, “You’re gone now more often than before.”

“I know, love.” His hand started rubbing up and down her lower back, heating her up. “But it will stop now, I promise.”

“But, you’re not done with the album yet, are you?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then why won’t you be gone for longer now?”

What was he doing instead? Y/n could feel her insides twist and turn. Churning in fear and exploding with anxiety building up inside of her. Her heart as racing, the beat quickening. If this was a song it would be played in the club, she was sure of it. The blood pumping through her quicker now but she felt colder than before.

What was he doing instead? The words repeated in her head, doubling every second into more question. But this one stayed in the front all the time. Hypothesis after hypothesis appearing in front of her inner eye, playing like a movie she wanted to turn off but couldn’t look away from. It was just too disturbing.

And Noel seemed to notice none of her feelings beside confusion.

“Needed to finish your gift.” Seeing her eyes widen like the movie finally ended, he only laughed at her reaction. “Don’t say you forgot what day it is.”

‘I thought you did,’ she wanted to say. “How could I forget the first time you talked to me with your back turned out of nervousness?” she said instead, bringing a blush to creep up his neck. Noel’s face hiding in the crook of her neck as he laughed in embarrassment just thinking about the situation that took place outside of a pub they were all at.

The two of them had been flirting for some time already, though neither wanted to put a label on what they were doing. With the surprising success of ‘Definitely, Maybe’ Y/n was thankful for even the smallest second she got to spent with two of her favourite people. As one could’ve seen coming from the beginning though, having less than something hurt more than having nothing, at least then she would’ve known where she was at. They both would’ve. Having to watch Y/n dance with some random guy over him and having Liam slur in his ear as to ‘how fucking childish’ he was behaving was the last straw for Noel and the reason why he found himself outside with Y/n by his side in the cold London streets. And then it all just happened. The words flew from his mouth like they’ve never done before, not even when writing songs, and after a long pause from the woman’s side, their lips finally touched in a way they’ve never done before. True passion and love being exchanged between them.

To her, he spoke poetry without thinking much about it.

A talent she hadn’t seen before. One she could never learn. So, listening to him making it feel so easy was an addiction she would never feel guilty of.

“You wanna open your present?” His words were muffled against the skin of her neck, where he laid little kisses for her. His lips travelling further up, over her jaw and cheek until they reached her lips.

“Yes.”

“Wait here,” he instructed her, losing his body from hers and walking back into the kitchen where he left it to go look for her the moment he came back. It wasn’t wrapped nicely, but Liam wanted to help so he let him.

When he came back, Y/n was sat on the sofa, hands clasped together like a child on Christmas. Excitement rushing through her veins. The present was a thin, poorly wrapped, square that was light in her hands. Scrunching her eyebrows together without a clue of what was in her hands, Noel urged her to open it, leaning on the cushion behind the headrest and watching her every move as she neatly loosened the tape from the wrapping material. Grasping the gift, she pulled it out, revealing a vinyl she’d never seen before. A simple white record sleeve over it with a message written on it. A message for her. ‘An apology for all the nights I’ve missed because of this,’ she read.

“What is it?” she asked, gently taking the record from the sleeve, separating them and letting the paper-like material drop to the cushion she sat on. Turning it, she read the tiles first, none of which she recognized, before reading the singer. Noel Gallagher.

Turning her head sharply his way she felt tears prick in her eyes. Mouth agape and her fingers holding the record tight to not drop it. Noel laughed at her reaction, the blush reappearing to his face. “All for you. All eight of them only for you.”

“You produced your own album?”

“Not mine. Ours.

“Nobody will ever hear this beside you, you know? These are just for you.”

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐇 ˊˎ - ☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: This has been a draft for a while but I decided to finish it today hehe 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: sugar daddy! Pantalone | Regrator x sugar baby! Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.7k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, NSFW content, dom/sub dynamics, sugar daddy au, spanks, whips, slight degradation (slut used), praise

You knew you shouldn’t have done it but the dinner had just been so boring and you were craving a little excitement, something to look forward to in order to get through this dreadfully dull meeting. 

You’re the sugar baby to the richest man in Teyvat; Pantalone, ninth of the Fatui Harbingers. You both appreciate each other’s company and he pays you to stay by his side and not fool around with other men. You don’t ask questions about his status as a harbinger and nor do you ask for things unless offered, things he appreciates as a man so generous with you. He’s started to bring you along to work lunches and dinners when it’s to do with the bank and not his rank as a harbinger – you think it’s a sign he’s starting to trust you more, maybe that he’s considering a new proposal for your relationship, but you’ve found he can be as strategic as he is impulsive, making him unpredictable and so you just live in the moment when you’re around him. 

But this particular dinner had been a dreadfully long moment indeed. With a few cocktails in you, you excused yourself to the bathroom to touch up your hair and reapply some lip gloss. It was as you were admiring your reflection that an idea struck you. It was an idea that you knew would land you in trouble and yet you needed something, anything, to anticipate so that this dinner could be somewhat less dull.

With the bathroom being empty, you reached up under your cocktail dress and slid your panties down your legs, off over your heels. You bunched the little lacy garment up in your hand and made your way back to your seat at the table. Your sugar daddy welcomed you back with a soft smile and a hand on your knee. Seizing your opportunity, you had pushed your panties into his hand, making it clear that you now had nothing under your dress. He had to clear his throat and take a sip of his drink to compose himself as a brief moment of surprise overtook him. You were then shot a look that warned you this action would have consequences as he rubbed his thumb over the soft lace before sliding it into his pocket. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And so, you find yourself bent over his large bed back at his mansion, your dress removed so that he has a perfect view of your ass, your skin covered with silky stockings and a garter belt for him. 

“There is a time and a place to be a little tease,” He lectures as he kicks your ankles apart, leaning over you so that his voice rumbles lowly against your ear, breath fanning against your skin in a way that makes your skin prickle, “and my meetings qualify for neither of such things.” He’s still fully dressed in his three-piece suit, though he’s removed the blazer and laid it on the bed beside you, shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. “I’m sure you understand by now that your actions have consequences.” 

“Yessir.” You reply, hearing the dragging sound of a drawer being opened from behind you. You don’t need to look to know which it is.

“So how many spanks do you think is appropriate for trying to distract me in such a lewd way, hm?” You ponder for a moment, trying to decide an answer that will both please him and not cause you too much pain when you next wish to sit down. 

“Ten…?” You ask hesitantly, but feel a wash of relief when he lets out an approving little hum. 

“Yes, that seems like enough to teach you a lesson. One, two or three, darling?” You know this game too: you’re to blindly pick what he’ll be spanking you with. 

“Three.” You reply. Three is a good number, stable, strong, triangular. And hopefully not the damn paddle. 

“The whip it is.” He replies and you internally let out a little sigh of relief. The small whip with its various tails is placed down on the bed beside your head as his gloved hands cup your hips. He strokes your skin with his thumbs for a moment before squeezing and propping them up higher so that you’re perfectly presented for him to punish. “Just look at you, sweet girl…” He lets out an appreciative groan as his palm roams over the curve of your ass, giving it an appreciative little squeeze. “What a shame you have to be such a brat at times, I’d much rather see you squirming under my tongue…” His fingers glide over your slit in a barely-there touch, showing you exactly where he’d put his tongue.

You see his hand take the whip and it vanishes from your field of vision. Preparing yourself mentally, your teeth graze your lower lip and hands clutch at the silken sheets beneath you. But it’s been a while since he punished you like this and, as it cracks over the plush flesh of your ass, you realise it hurts more than you remember. You let out a short cry and flinch away before composing yourself and propping your hips up again. 

“Good girl…” He praises you for immediately getting back in position, soothing the sting of the developing welt on your rear with a gentle brush of his fingers. “Ready for the next?” You give a curt nod, more prepared now that you’ve been reminded of just how much it hurts to be spanked with the whip like this. “Good.” You only suck in a sharp gasp when the whip comes down on your ass the second time. 

“You always take this so well. At least you accept your punishments after you’ve been a brat~” You can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him over your shoulder. You feel his fingers slide into the top of your stocking and leave something there. You turn your head and realise he’s tucked a thick wad of cash into the elastic of your stocking, patting his hand against it to reaffirm that it’s all yours. You bite back a delighted smile as he looks down at you with a mix of dominance and appreciation. 

Pantalone respects the arrangement your relationship is built upon and he’s grateful that you allow him to do these sorts of things to you, to play out his fantasies. He’s the richest man on the continent and so material things no longer impress him. But intangible things? Submission, loyalty, obedience? Those are precious gifts to him, especially from a woman as pretty as you. He doesn’t forget to show his appreciation by rewarding you with money, luxuries, holidays. You respect his boundaries and he respects yours so he believes the best thing he can do for you is shower you with his wealth. 

“Let’s continue…” You face forwards once again, a hot sting on your right asscheek. He brings the whip down on your skin another three times, giving you a few moments to prepare yourself between each one. 

“Halfway…” You murmur to ease yourself. You’ve already done five, you can do five more… 

“And you’re taking it so well, pretty girl~” He purrs, tucking more cash into your stockings, even more now. You can’t help but smile happily at the sight of all the notes sticking out of the top of the silky material, tucked under your garters too. “We can go to the bank tomorrow to deposit all this. I’ll take you out for lunch, treat you to some shopping – maybe to that little lingerie store you love, hm?~” He offers and gently glides the tail of the whip over your stinging ass. 

“Mh, yes please~” You say softly, knowing it pleases him. 

“You’ll need to show me you’ve learned how to behave tonight though, can you do that for me, little one?” He leans over your back to murmur in your ear, his voice as deep and rich as his pockets, a syrupy aphrodisiac to your body. You can’t help but squirm a little and he presses his knee between your legs to assure you don’t close them. You nod your head eagerly.

“Yessir.” 

“That’s my girl.” He stands up straight again. Three more spanks later, more cash is being tucked into your other stocking. “Look at you, perfect little sugar baby, aren’t you?~” He croons, his eyes raking over your figure: you’re in just your lingerie – minus your panties – bent over his bed, hips propped up in the air and your plush criss-crossed with light welts from the whip in his gloved hand, your silky stockings stuffed with his cash. But he groans as he looks at how your pretty slit is already dripping. He swipes your thumb against your pussy, smearing your wetness over your clit, amused that you’ve become so turned on from being spanked and spoiled rotten by him, “Such a perfect little slut too…” You let out a little mewl at how he rubs sticky circles against your sensitive pearl, whining slightly when he pulls his hand away. 

“Perhaps I can find a fitting reward for you once you’ve finished your punishment…” Eager to get this all done with so he can move on to dealing with the needy heat building between your thighs, you prop your hips up for him, a silent cue that you’re ready for the final two spanks. You feel a wave of relief wash over you as the initial sting of the ninth one fizzles out into a familiar hot hurting that you’ve already grown used to this far into your punishment; one more left and you’ll be rewarded. 

But you weren’t prepared for him to stop holding back for the tenth and final blow, the crack of the whip sounding our mere milliseconds before a cry erupts from your lips. “There you go, good girl, all done~” He croons and leans over you once again as he stuffs more cash in your stocking, setting the whip down in favour of brushing your hair away from your neck. His lips press hot kisses along the side of your neck until he can teasingly nibble at your ear. His other hand reaches down to cup the underside of your knee and bring your one leg up onto the bed, causing you to spread your thighs apart as you’re bent over under him. 

“And good girls get rewarded.” 

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ comms. ∘ taglist ∘ follow/reblog

🏷️@firagirl @ghostofpolaris @jofie-does-things @sarah22447

[veraoli]

Aspects that show if you’re dating a cheater in astrology

(Remember, not all people with these aspects are cheaters. These are just aspects that are PRONE to cheating if they aren’t self-aware.)

Uranus conjunct venus: A person with this aspect isn’t really comfortable with long-term relationships because they like their independence and freedom. They also get bored easily and can suddenly start liking someone completely different out of the blue because it excites them. They are the type to: “oops” I didn’t mean to kiss them. The impulsive cheaters. But as long as you both keep the spark in this relationship or you are open to letting this person having their freedom and independance, you don’t have to worry.

Neptune square mars: These people can be flirtatious and act like they want you. The truth is they might just be leading you on. They are the type of people to be f*ckin with 5 people at the same time and lying about it if they think you would get hurt by it. People with this aspect are also confused about what they desire and are attracted to. They are the go with the flow type of people and that’s why they can also cheat. Especially when alcohol or drugs are involved. I would suggest only dating them if they show you with actions that they want you because words or s*x isnt really proof that someone loves you.

Lack of saturn aspects to personal planets in the chart: if the person you are dating has no saturn aspects to personal placements (ascendant, venus, moon, mercury, mars, sun) this can create an individual who isnt serious, trust-worthy or reliable. They can lack discipline and might not be able to stay faithful because of this.

Venus in 8H: these people LOVE s*x. That doesn’t mean that they will cheat (this one depends on the aspects). It’s just that they can’t be in a relationship if the s*x is lacking and might go looking elsewhere. So if they suddenly don’t want to have s*x with you, I would be worried if I were you, because…They might have found a new supply😭

Venus square moon: They want a pretty woman/man by their side but once they have it they feel empty. This is because they aren’t connected with their inner emotions and this disconnects them from getting what they actually need. Only liking things for the aesthetic wont make a person happy and thats what they might not really realize. These people might also take you for granted. Sometimes they have an unrealistic view of love and what it truly means. This person can cheat because something is just “missing” from your relationship.

Neptune square venus: they might use love as a form of escapism. They might be dreamy, charming and perfect on the outside but that is because they only tell you what you want to hear. They also really like living in a romantic fantasy story where everything they do is ”for the plot”. Type of people to tell you ”lets get married tomorrow” only to break up with you two weeks later. You can’t trust them because they can’t even trust themselves tbh. I would personally stay away from people with this aspect unless you want to get hurt.

Like for a part 2💜

[sergeantnex]

König x Reader: The Uniform (Smut)

Being a new member of 141, I had very little knowledge of who all were our allies, merely being told I'll meet them when the time is right. So, being placed on the lookout in a new territory and being told someone from our allied faction team called KorTac would come check on me did little to soothe my nerves. A smooth German accent came through my earpiece, informing me the male was headed in my direction. I could hear the male's footsteps as he approached my position from behind. Glancing back, my eyes widened as I took in the sight of a 6' 10" male approached. Red night vision goggles resting over his eyes, his tan uniform accented by the black and red colored gear he wore.

Normally, being surrounded by men in uniforms was one thing, but this guy and his uniform? This was completely different. The sheer size of him and his lean figure graced with such a dominating aura that followed him sent tingles of excitement and arousal down my spine. I studied him as he approached my prone form, his cocks outline visible through his pants. The sight made my mouth water with eagerness to have such a monster of a cock however he would be willing give it. The male moved to lay prone with me and lifted his night vision goggles. With how close he was, I could make out his sapphire blue hues surrounded by black grease paint.

"I'm König, I will be your teammate for this mission." He greeted, his voice sounding calm while his blue hues swirled with anxiety. I offered a gentle and welcoming smile as I greeted him back, giving him my callsign. His name rang a bell, I remember hearing the team talk about him sure. I thought Soap was joking, and he called the man a mountain, but damn! Something about this man excited me, made me feel submissive and eager to please. Was it how much smaller I was? Maybe it was his aura? It could be a million and one thing, that's for sure, but the mission came first.

I kept a quiet casual conversation going with him, talking about where he was from, even talking about him teaching me some German. He seemed to relax the more we quietly spoke, which made me feel warm and jittery. Although this giant male had one thing I didn't. Those sick night vision goggles. I open my mouth to speak only for him to wrap his hand over my mouth and adjust himself over my back. The front of his vest resting against my back and his hips resting flush against my own. His flaccid cock pressing against my ass only drove me to want to press back into him. I could hear the footsteps and quiet talking in a different language, I couldn't understand, as he laid over me.

My uniform wasn't exactly the best to be trying to blend in with the darkness of the night. His did a better job at blending in with the surroundings than my own, and with his goggles, he could see the enemies to see if we were in any trouble. The more he softly rested on me, the more I felt the desire and impulse to seek sexual contact. I took a risk and gently licked his gloved palm, quickly drawing his attention. I could see his blue eyes widen with shock as I peered up at him innocently. His attention quickly went back to the soldiers patrolling the path near our position. We weren't supposed to engage unless they spotted us or got too close. So feeling pretty in the clear, I softly lifted my ass agaisnt his clothed flaccid cock.

He softly grunts as I keep softly grinding my hips back against his. König presses his gloved middle finger into my mouth, letting me wet the fabric as I softly started sucking. I could feel his cock twitch and begin to harden as I lightly moan around his finger. König gently grinds his hips against my own letting his cock rut against my ass smoothly. Once we were in the clear, König groaned out and pressed against me harder. I learned very quickly that most men in the military were eager for sexual contact. Especially men in higher ranks, they were always stressed and needed something to take that stress away. I had slept with my Lieutenant many times due to how stressed he was after missions of after long days of training recruits. I wasn't sure what König's rank was, but at this point, I honestly didn't care.

"Scheiße... you little minx." König growled as he pulled his hand away to tug at my uniform pants. I quickly and quietly undid my pants, tugging them and my underwear down just enough to expose myself to him. I could hear him doing the same before the heavy weight of his thick cock tapped against my ass. He used his hand to press his whole length against my ass as he ruts his hips softly. I slightly pant as I do my best to stay quiet, letting him lift my hips up slightly. The sound of him spitting reached my ears as his spit dripped down my ass. I gasp as he begins pressing his tip into me, and I feel my walls stretching to accommodate him.

"Tell me, luder, do you let anyone do this?" He mocked sinking his cock into me until he was fully seated in me. His cock feeling better than anything I had used in the past week to seek the pleasure of being fucked. König was thick and long, his pretty cock carrying a weight that would satisfy anyone. His heavy balls rested on the back of my thighs from how I was positioned below him.

"No sir, you're special~" I purred, arching my lower back to allow him better access to fuck me. He growled something in German as he began pulling out only to press forward again. The pace was slower than either of us wanted, but we couldn't risk being caught. Of course, we weren't supposed to be having sex either, but neither of us could pass this up. König's voice was low, his breath mixing with soft moans. Hearing such an intimidating guy make such noises in my ear only drove me closer to my orgasm. It was like when Ghost and I had sex, hearing the gruff noises and low moans from my lieutenant were such a weak spot for me. My walls flutter around him as his cock began twitching with his own approaching orgasm. I whine out his name as I began cumming, his hips changing to grind into me as he begins cumming as well.

"Open your mouth, luder. Clean my cock for me ja?" König commanded lightly as he pulls out and moves to press his cock in my mouth. I moan softly around his girth as I take him as deep as I can manage. Licking and sucking away any mess we made until he hissed and pulled away. König and I quickly fixed our clothes before he moved back to my side. His hand softly lingered on my lower back as he checked our surroundings. Once, he was satisfied with it being clear and laid back next to me.

"What made you decide to act such a way? You just met me, luder." König asked, seeming more curious now than nervous as he sees we are safe.

"At first, it was your uniform, the way it frames you in all the right places. It gives you a certain... aura. But now, you can fuck me anytime we work together again." I tease softly but showing that I mean my words. König chuckles softly as he resumes overwatch with me. My excited jittery energy came to a harsh halt when I heard Ghost come over my earpiece.

"Are you done fucking the Colonel?" His gravelly British voice mocked into my ear. I tensed and felt a heavy stone of mixed emotions hit my guts. Embarrassment because I forgot Ghost was on my channel in case I ran into any trouble and shock because this gentle giant of a man was the Colonel of our allied faction. I looked in the direction of where I knew Ghost's position was.

"Ghost... you-.." I started only to be cut off by my lieutenant.

"Yes, Private, I saw and heard every bit of that. Perhaps you'd like a lesson in what I meant when I said I don't share toys." He remarked before going quiet. My body filled with excitment at the thoughts of what he would do to me when the mission was over. Maybe I could convince him to share me with König...

[eletricheart]

Hii i wanted to ask if you could do Donna Beneviento with a fem! s/o whos like Alastor from Hazbin Hotel? You dont have to do this request if you dont want to, no pressure!

Me and the Devil

(Donna Beneviento x fem!reader)

*pic from pinterest

Word count: 757

So, I've never seen this show so this was a bit hard to write, sorry for the short lenght. I hope it's good, i tried to make some research on the character but wiki only goes so far😭

ps: sorry for the long wait too😔✌

ps2: its fluff btw, i promise

ps3: not proofread pls lmk any mistakes

------------------------------------

Donna met…well…noticed your presence at her workshop every week when she worked with human subjects. The dollmaker was afraid at first but chose to remain calm, silently working and observing your moves. It went on for months, making Donna even used to your hidden company.

You met her after three months of stalking, finally deciding to ask the purpose of her actions, which she didn't answer. So you kept returning, week after week, slowly getting closer and asking more questions.

Angie met you once she noticed the dollmaker taking longer to leave the workshop. The doll was distrustful at first but soon enough you won her over by playing with her shadow. You regretted that decision after her chasing you around demanding you played with her.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

You found yourself following the directions of a doll into the village.

Earlier on the day Donna had expressed her wish for new tolls to which you responded by saying why she didn't buy it before it ended, to which started an argument on responsibility.

Now, you pride yourself in being the strongest being alive and dead, taking orders from no one. Therefore, your current predicament was completely your choice.

You had easily found the man named Duke, his carriage surrounded by commoners who quickly made way once seeing Angie. You didn't like the people around you, in fact was close enough to hating them.

You were watching Angie speaking to the Duke when a villager touched your shoulder. You weren't impulsive, of course not, he just dropped dead, on his own.

With the noise of the body falling followed by the townsfolk screaming and running off. Angie turned to look at your smiling face. “What the hell did you?!”

You smiled looking from the body to the doll. “Well…I sucked the soul out of his body, obviously. Touching someone without their consent is very impolite.”

After this occurrence the doll loved going out with you, getting more excited every time you killed someone, by accident of course.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Rainy day

You were sitting on Donna’s couch fixing the radio while the dollmaker knitted on a nearby armchair.

Donna turned to stare at you shaking the radio. “Why don't you sing yourself? It’ll sound the same.”

You looked up with furrowed eyebrows, blinking slowly while staring back at her. “No. Unless you’d give me something in return.” You said, turning your confused face into a smile.

Donna rolled her eyes behind her veil. “No.”

You shrugged and returned to your task, successfully fixing the radio.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Angie’s birthday

After questioning Donna on how a doll has a birthday, you fell into an easy silence while baking a cake and some sweets for the dolls.

The dollmaker noticed your apparent skills, slowly trusting you more with her kitchen. “I didn't think demons had baking lessons in hell.”

You turned to her with a sly smile. “Making jokes, huh. Well, I didn't learn it in hell.”

Donna smiled and threw some flour at you. “How did you learn it then?”

You chuckled, cleaning your face from the attack. “My mother taught me, you would've liked her.”

The Lady nodded. “I’m sure I would've.”

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Something new

You were standing in front of her workshop, holding a pot with a single flower in your hands. You stayed still for a few minutes before having the courage to knock.

It didn't take long for you to hear the ‘come in’ and make your way around the hanging wood pieces.

You stood in front of her, holding the flower to her face. “I made it.”

Donna stared back and forth between your face and the floor before speaking. “I don't recognize it.”

You scuffed. “Because I made it, it’s mine.”

The dollmaker gently took the pot from your hands, holding it dearly. “You made me a flower.”

You tilted your head at her. “Yes, I’ve said it twice.”

Donna nodded. “Wait outside, please.”

And so you did, walking around in circles in the hall waiting for her to open the door again. You weren't nervous, you didn't have a reason to be since not fully understood why you felt the need to make her a flower. You were bored, and so you walked.

The dollmaker opened the door after an hour, holding a wooden flower. “I could've made you a normal flower too, but you’ve already seen all of the ones I can do. So…here’s something new.”

You carefully took the flower from her hands and smiled sincerely. “It’s mine now.”

Donna laughed. “It’s yours.”

------------------------------------

requests are open: masterlist

[garamdx]

: / / LOADING … OH GARAM / /

20021106, 05:58 AM

INCUBUS PHYSIOLOGY

SUPERNATURAL BEAUTY

DEMONIC HELEN OF TROY

: / / LOADING … AUTHOR'S NOTE / /

hello, everyone! my name is ryan (he/him, 28+) and i'm so excited to be here with all of you. 🤍 garam is a beloved muse of mine and while he's here to raise a little hell here and there, i hope that he'll smoothly fit in with all your muses. if you're interested in plotting, please 🖤 this post and i'll reach out to you as soon as possible. i have d//scord available by request, so lmk if that's easier! ngl, it's easier for me, so... there's that! 💜

: / / LOADING … BACKGROUND / /

born in bum-fuck nowhere south korea to a family of cultists.

he’s the disappointment, the “defect”, in his family.

his physiology is that of an incubus, much like the rest of his brothers, but his demonic abilities are basically non-existent.

garam’s beautiful to behold, always has been. that’s about it.

at 16, his lust aura made itself apparent. it… was awkward.

once he turned 20, he was banished from his home, and he arrived in seoul—specifically district x—to start a new life.

he seduced plenty of rich men to survive, but now lives on his own and works as an influencer; bewitching his followers.

he was recently diagnosed with impulsive bpd.

he’s currently being treated for it; takes it a day at a time.

above all, garam really just wants to be loved for who he is.

: / / LOADING … PERSONALITY / /

garam is someone who possesses immense passions. even outside of his mental health issues, his emotions are felt deeply; profoundly. sometimes they feel heavy, but other times, especially in blissful moments, they bring him such pure, unadulterated joy that making good memories comes easily. when he's fun, he's fun. he lilts unexpected, crazy things; he orbits around his loved ones; he learns everyone's secrets, their desires, and their aspirations, and if he's loyal to you, he'll make sure you receive every single once; he's like lightning. however, he's someone who doesn't make himself easy to know, and that's for a variety of reasons. above all, he just doesn't like when people are all up his ass about things that don't involve them. if he has something to tell you, then he'll tell you. if he wants to keep something to himself, he will. that said, what makes him hypocritical is, despite concealing parts of himself, he wants to know everything about you. literally everything. he doesn't give a fuck about what you ate for lunch, he wants to know who you'd die for. i'll warn you now, he's hyper-sexual. even if he's not pursuing someone, he loves talking about sex and debauchery. again, he loves the taboo and the things that people don't often open up about. that, and at his core, he's a fucking sex demon. he won't apologize, but i'll apologize in advance for his perversion. he was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, and he's been in therapy for it for a few months now. there's for sure been improvements, but it's still a daily struggle. he's vowed to try to be better, though. he doesn't want his past to affect him as badly as it does, so learning to cope/moving on is his top priority. there's one thing about him that'll be obvious upon first meeting. you will find him beautiful. unless you have abilities that make you immune, his beauty is obvious and striking. as he's homosexual, it tends to rouse much more intense responses by members of the same sex, but the opposite often find him appealing, as well. don't touch his horns without permission.

: / / LOADING … PLOTLINES / /

i prefer to brainstorm plots! 💜 talk to you soon!

[autisticprentiss]

Sleepover

Emily Prentiss X reader, part 2/?

Reader cats are named after my rats lol

/ Thursday 8th, 11:45pm. Seattle / 

It strikes Emily as quietly domestic, sitting in bed next to each other, doing your own thing on your tablets in companionable silence. 

She checks her watch and discovers it's almost midnight again, and reaches down to pull her tablet on the charger. You see her starting to move out of the corner of your eye and follow suit, leaning over Emily to place your tablet next to hers on the nightstand. 

Emily basically manhandles you into the same spooning position you started in last night,smiling as she pulls and tugs at you until she's comfortable. You don't think you can get more comfortable than being in her arms, anyway she wants you. 

Emily breaks the silence, "You think it's bad that I like cuddling you more than Sergio?" 

You laugh and shake your head slightly, "Nope, unless I wake up with you headbutting me because you're hungry, I think I prefer you over my cat too." 

"You have a cat too?" She asks.

You nod, "I have two, they stay with my neighbours while we're away." 

"What are their names?" 

"The oldest is Janeway, she's almost 10." You pause at the look Emily's giving you, she stares at you, before laughing, "Janeway? You nerd."

"Hey!" You exclaim, "She's a very well respected captain. Asimov is 4, I call her 'Azi' mostly. They were both strays that claimed me as their human not long after I moved to D.C." 

"Janeway and Asimov." Emily shakes her head,  she's smiling, "Does Reid know he has nerd competition?" 

You roll your eyes, and turn yourself back onto your side, body tucked into Emily's. 

"Goodnight, Em."

Tonight you fall asleep first, Emily's fingers tracing a figure 8 on your arm lulling you into a peaceful sleep. 

Only once she's very very sure you're asleep, does Emily change her pattern to hearts, a small, invisible, expression of her growing feelings for you, an attempt to acknowledge those feelings silently, but still outside the privacy of her mind. 

When she'd invited you to share her bed last night, it had been an impulse, no thought given to her crush on you but it was becoming undeniable, and Emily is sure when the team returns to Quantico Penelope will see right through her and double down her efforts to convince Emily to ask you out. 

Emily tries to push the thoughts from her mind, forces herself to breathe evenly and falls asleep. 

In her dream, Emily gently headbutts your shoulder a couple times until you stir, laughing at her and turning to face her. 

"I'm hungry." She whines with a smirk. 

"You're not actually a cat, you can get up and get your own food." You try to tuck yourself back into her body, but Emily pushes your shoulder down, until you're on your back and she's hovering above you, hands next to your head.

"Maybe what I want to eat is already in bed with me." 

/ 2:22am /

Suddenly you're awake, the bed shakes with the force of Emily sitting up.

"Bad dream?" You ask. 

She mumbles something and nods slightly, her eyes look heavy. You pull her back down under the blanket and into you, making her the little spoon and hoping it might help her feel safe enough to fall back asleep. 

You both fall back asleep quickly, Emily's 'bad dream' temporarily forgotten as she melts into you. 

/ 7:30am / 

Emily's been avoiding eye contact with you all morning, she turned the small TV on almost as soon as you both woke up, the news the only thing stopping the room from drowning in silence. 

You glance at her again, she's pulling her boots on and you figure you have to ask now before she leaves the room and you both get swept up in the case details again. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?" 

Emily finally looks up at you, and for the first time in a while, you actually find eye contact comforting instead of stressful.

"Talk about what?"

"Your bad dream? It can help to talk it out," You've had plenty of bad dreams yourself, and while you've never talked about them you've always appreciated when someone offers to listen.

Emily shakes her head, her shoulders relaxing slightly from how she's had her whole body tensed, on edge and jumpy all morning. 

"It wasn't really a bad dream," She clocks your disbelief before you can school your face into a neutral expression, "More like a jumpscare really." 

You just nod, knowing she's not telling you the whole truth, and follow her out the door to the lobby for another day of crime fighting. 

/ 

[angelsworks]

Hi, thank you so much for your posts. Based on your previous post about yandere Mikaelsons I feel there is a high chance of them actually break their obsession. Then how will they react if they do? Reader is not just broken in a sense of being completely compliant, but they also lost interest and hope in life as well, and will not do anything unless they are given instructions to do so.

Lost Obsession

Yandere! Mikaelson Brothers x reader (separate)

Type: headcannon

Request: Yes

Summary: What it’s like for each of the Mikaelson brothers darlings if they break their obsession.

Warnings: death, yandere themes, dark themes, generally a bit sad, etc

This is kind of like a part two to this headcannon. This headcannon will reference points made then.

Here’s a link.

In the likely hood that they do break their obsession, it’s not going to be good.

If you thought being their darling was bad, being their ex-darling could be worse.

Each brother reacts differently.

Klaus Mikaelson

Maybe Klaus has found someone new. A new obsession.

It leads to him to moving you out and moving them in.

Depending on how good you’ve been will depend on how gradual the process is.

Or his current emotional state.

He might rip the band aid off and leave you alone with a new apartment.

But it’s not his nature to just leave things alone.

In some way he’ll still be connected to you.

Like how he is with Rebekah.

You can have your own life but he’ll come and go as he pleases. He doesn’t allow you to have any sort of romantic relationship. The thought of you being happy without him, even if you aren’t his darling, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

His treatment both during your relationship and after leads you to feeling completely isolated

You could live in the busiest town in the world. But you know that forming connections to anyone will leads to Klaus taking it away.

The only person you can talk to is once again him. It doesn’t matter whether you’re his darling or not.

You get to live; but it’s not much of a life.

Elijah Mikaelson

Elijah is always so kind to everyone. It’s no surprise someone new caught his eye. They take his attention away from you of course.

You don’t notice it until his behaviour starts to change.

Usually he does everything for you, his dominance being a key part of your relationship. Yet slowly that starts to change.

He asks you to cook your own meals, bathe yourself, feed yourself, dress yourself. Over the course of time you have to start to grow more independent.

Something which you thought would be a good thing.

Yet after being in Elijah’s hold for so long, it creates a sense of anxiety within you.

He’s made you so sure that you’re incompetent, doing anything yourself feels wrong.

Like Klaus, Elijah has the common decency to set you up with a house and all the necessities to live.

All he asks is that you don’t contact him again.

He completely severs ties, as to not affect his new obsession.

He’s gone from being your only source of comfort, to a complete stranger.

You survive of course. And after a long period of time you can final start to heal and become yourself.

Kol Mikaelson

Kol was a cruel yandere. Extremely sadistic and manipulative.

Yet he was impulsive.

He’s still a child at heart and doesn’t think things through.

So when he misjudged his strength one day, it doesn’t end well for you.

He’d grown bored anyway. You didn’t do much. You cried and begged and sometimes just sat and stared at walls.

He expects you to get up after a while.

But he realises you won’t be waking up, ever

At first he’s angry, angry at you for dying.

Then he’s angry at himself, for not feeding you his blood.

Then he’s sad. Then he’s angry. Then his feelings continue to fluctuate like an emotional yo-yo.

It takes him a while to get over you. A few murder sprees, some one night stands and lots of alcohol.

But he does, eventually.

Finn Mikaelson

Finn hates his vampire nature. He hates the fact that he’s stuck eternally as a murderous monster.

But you help him to break those thoughts.

When he lives with you, pretending he’s back in his time, back to a more primitive life, everything disappears.

As cruel as it sounds, it’s you who breaks his obsession. Your humanness reminds him of what he is.

It’s when he starts to see noticeable signs of ageing that he’s broken out of his false reality and realised of what he’s done.

Instead of facing it, he bolts.

He leaves you in the cave. Alone.

With no way to get down as a human, your death certificate has been signed.

He feels bad for his actions. For taking your life away from you.

He adds it to the ever growing pile of reasons he loathes himself.

A/N: I don’t know why the images are blocked. It won’t be an issue next time.

[im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons]

Day 9: Collaring

Warnings: none

Rating: T

Pairing: Boyd x Raylan x Tim

Boyd and Raylan give him the collar together.

It’s the first. Tim's never been a proper submissive, not for as long as he's known he was a submissive – he's too headstrong, too independent. People tend to peg him wrong, when they first meet him, and as it turns out, most doms aren't interested in a sub who can put a bullet through their eye at 1000 yards.

Boyd and Raylan aren't most doms, though. Tim knows that from the beginning, from when Raylan doesn't bat an eyelash at working next to a submissive – from when he realizes the two of them are together, despite the fact that they both have clear, bold D's on their driver's licenses.

And, really, it shouldn't be surprising that the three of them fit. Tim's about as nontraditional as they come, and Boyd and Raylan are just a half-step behind him. They don't expect Tim to kneel or defer in public – and they don't expect it from him in private, either, not unless they're putting him under.

So the collar is a surprise.

A collared sub is a claimed one. A wanted one. And if Tim’s ever been wanted in his life, it was despite the fact that he was a sub, not because of it. 

Tim stares down at the box in Boyd’s hands – at the strip of leather laying inside it. It’s innocuous enough, and Tim might even be able to brush it off if it was just Raylan in front of him. Impulsively buying a collar is something that’s right up Raylan’s alley, and they both know it – but it’s Boyd, too. And Boyd might be his own brand of impulsive, but not about things like this.

"You don't have to wear it," Raylan says, when all Tim does is swallow and stare. "Not if you don't want to. Not never, if it's not your thing. We just…" He ducks his head in an uncharacteristic show of shyness, and that more than anything convinces Tim that this is real, that the two of them aren't making a pointed comment about how he doesn't measure up. “You’re ours, Tim,” Raylan finishes after a moment. “We thought that you could use the reminder, sometimes.”

A year ago, Tim might have bristled at those words, taken them the wrong way and made Raylan bleed for them, but now… now he knows what Raylan means. That he’s not putting Tim in his place, but assuring him of it, reminding him less that he’s claimed and more that he’s wanted. 

The distinctions are important. So is the fact that Boyd and Raylan know him well enough to make them.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice is even rougher than it normally is. “Yeah, okay.”

He imagines it’s not the enthusiasm Boyd and Raylan were hoping for, but the both of them just relax, losing tension Tim didn’t even realize they were carrying. And it occurs to him that, for all this is monumental for him, it might not exactly be commonplace for them, either. 

"Would you allow us to put it on you?" Boyd asks, and Tim nods tightly, not trusting his voice. In response, he just gets two of the softest smiles he's ever seen. Boyd takes the collar out of the box, and Raylan reaches out, gently tipping Tim’s head back with a thumb on his jaw. It’s a vulnerable position, one that makes Tim’s teeth itch on the wrong kind of day, but today it just feels… steadying.

“Good boy,” Boyd says, and Tim huffs. 

He can’t glare the way he wants to, not with his eyes fixed on the ceiling, so he settles for muttering, “That’s not playing fair,” while Boyd sets the collar against his neck, carefully buckling the strap.

“I have been accused of being many things,” Boyd says, and Tim can hear the smile in his voice. “But I don’t believe anyone’s ever felt the need to label me as fair.”

He cinches the collar, not so tight that Tim can’t breathe, but just tight enough that he can feel it, the reassuring pressure like a hand on his throat. Tim shudders at the thought, feels need start to pull at the corners of his mind even as he reaches up, brushing his fingers over the leather covering his throat. It's a new feeling, but it's… not a bad one. He doesn't hate it. And when he allows himself, briefly, to think about wearing it again, maybe while kneeling at Boyd’s feet or letting Raylan pin him to the bed, well – he doesn’t hate that, either. 

No, he doesn’t hate it at all.

find this fic on AO3 here:

[fountainpenguin]

"It's like a dagger hanging over my head... Every day is just the same; I always have to hang my head in shame..." (x)

---

New Criminal Experience chapter today!

Chapter 4 - “Marked”

Read on AO3

Start from Chapter 1

---

Impulse is in a fight. Mumbo didn't get to watch. After all, Skizz teleported him out of there before long. But while hiding in Skizz's spawn room, Mumbo realizes that a few very important "somethings" got left behind.

Skizz, however, seems oddly reluctant to poof back to look for them. Between that and the whole "Skizz is a wanted man" thing, it would seem these two have a lot to talk about…

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

Marked

Three seconds later…

---

Is this what it feels like to be… carried? To be held not like a package, but like a precious thing? Mumbo curls in on himself, shivering, and reaches for the sleeves of his robes. They aren't there. And his fingers aren't there because they don't exist. Or they do… but not in solid form. It's the idea of fingers, and the idea of Mumbo, and he's hurtling through a river like an arrow shot through stars. He has nothing to hold, and nothing to hold with… so he wraps himself around Skizzleman in his nonexistent way, and Skizz - who doesn't exist - pulls him closer with one arm.

They explode like bursting TNT. Blots of shadow and bright purple sparkles rain around them. Mumbo flops on a bed with a grunt. Is it a bed? He touches it, dragging his fingertips across the quilt. When he blinks, pink lanterns glow back at him. He's huddled in his own robes and silky black bedsheets. One arm clenches his stomach. His fingers curl through it, pinching skin.

Where am I?

It's… familiar, in a way he can't describe. There is something very comfortable about the walls pressing in all around. This room feels like a perfect cube. Is it perfect? Mumbo sits up, nice and slow, bracing himself with his palms. He breathes… He breathes through the pounding in his head.

"It's my spawn room," Skizz says behind him. Mumbo turns his head. Skizz stands in the far corner of the room, fingering the collar of his blue jumper. Mumbo almost makes eye contact, then remembers to drop his gaze. Skizz grimaces in reply. Long fingers pinch the hem of that sleeve. Mumbo watches that instead, just because he doesn't know what else to do with his eyes.

"We're… in the ender-spawn temple?"

"Yeah. You'll be safe here, buddy… No one can get in unless I bring them. Although I wouldn't recommend stepping through the door. I'm, uh… pretty sure that got griefed."

Mumbo's fingers curl tighter in the sheets. Skizz is staring at him with those big ol' eyes. He can feel them tracing up his back, but he can't just look… Or he shouldn't look, anyway. He cringes inward, breathing hard.

Deep breathes. Really, really deep breaths.

"This… this is your room? Isn't that, uhh… kinda…?"

Skizz's fingers fidget in the corner of Mumbo's eye. He takes a breath of his own. "Don't be like that…"

"Right. Yes. Just… a thing. That regular… buddies… do. Yeah. This is, um…." Oh dear…

He breathes again and takes a more careful look around. The room is lit by a single lantern of purple endflame. It's pretty… Much more contained in its little frosted glass than the bare soul sconces back in Little Sun. The glow is so low, Mumbo stares directly at it for several seconds before tearing his eyes away. He doesn't even need to blink to clear any spots from his vision.

This room is 5 blocks across and 5 blocks wide, just like his own spawn room back home. Taller, though, with a higher ceiling. That's only to be expected (body stereotypes and all). It's been cleared out of everything. Bare shelves. Empty trash bin. No clutter on the side table. Double-U stands in the corner, neck bent. Buzz nuzzles against her face with her soft little head.

"… It's quite nice in here, actually. What a lovely little place."

He's not been living here… He's making appearances. Where's all his supplies?

Skizz says nothing. Mumbo looks down at the bed he's kneeling on. The covers are mostly on the floor, like someone kicked them off in a hurry. He slides off the bed, right beside a pair of slipper. This is familiar. It's familiar in a way his beating hearts can stand, straining at his insides they may be.

Oh my goodness, I'm in another man's spawn room. Mumbo's eyelids twitch up. He leans forward, grabbing his hood, and drags it down over his face.

"Mumbles?" Quick little footsteps cross the room. Skizz's arms must be folded, because Mumbo can hear the lurching way he moves- the way his arms aren't swinging, jumper pressed tight like he's holding back a wound. "Talk to me, buddy. Are you hurt? If anybody hurt you, Impulse and I can mess 'em up."

"… N-not that this isn't charming, but can we go somewhere else?"

"Somewhere else?"

Mumbo closes his eyes. He listens to noises outside the spawn room. It sounds like people are moving through the hall, mostly zinging back and forth as they poof away. No one's yelling, though. The glow of the default lights will indicate the room is occupied, but there's nothing to be done about that.

"… Um. Well, this is awkward. Did you not see my wanted poster? I'm a marked man, dude."

"Yes, but… Skizz, this is really very…"

"Hey." Skizz lowers himself, reaching for Mumbo's face. Mumbo flinches back, knuckles tight around his hood. He keeps his face away, keeps his eyes down, and tries not to look at him. Even when his eyes are glowing and it's very, very tempting to look at him right now. "Look, it's… I know it's not super-duper-pooper-scooper, but I'm still your bodyguard. I'm not- I'm not gonna, like, disintegrate you."

"Skizz, that's not- That's not the part that worries me, dude…"

Skizz pauses, breathing against Mumbo's hair. "That doesn't worry you?"

"I mean, yeah! I mean, I'm glad you led with that, but…" I wasn't afraid you'd rip me apart to bulk up your form. You didn't give me that impression. Mumbo's fingers tremble anyway. He removes his satchel. This moves his elbows, forcing Skizz to back off just a hair without being real offensive. "Dude, this is your spawn room. You… You have full control of every pixel in here. I don't think it's a good idea…"

Skizz does not touch him. His hands float in empty space and Mumbo can pick up on the hot glow of his eyes even through his crunched-up eyelids. "I'm sorry… But it's the only place we can be safe. I know it's… Like, yeah, there's some really messed up stuff that could happen in here… but I'm not gonna dooo that. You're safe with me, Mumbo. I promise."

[Cnt'd on AO3 - Link at top]

[the-starry-seas]

I wanna know more about your chaotic neutral human?!

Oh man where do I begin 😂

I started writing him in 2015, and that kinda blows my mind when I think about it. I've played him as a faerie prince, Utahraptor shifter, dragon shifter, werewolf, alien, Titan pilot, X-Men style mutant, and normal human. Well, as normal as he can get.

His name is Rowan Castañeda. He's Catalan (when he's from Earth, anyway). The 'default' version of him is the one where he's a raptor shifter, because that's where it started all those years ago. That version also goes by the name Red, because his dinosaur form has red feathers and reptilian eyes. His human form has red eyes and sharp canines, which are hidden by a magical charm that gives him brown eyes and normal teeth.

The best way to sum up Rowan is by saying he's a little crazy and a lot of fun. Very loud and outgoing, loves people. Has more than enough intellect and common sense to clearly and easily grasp something is a Bad Idea, and enough chaotic dumbass energy to decide he's gotta just go ahead with it anyway. Way too fond of bad puns, incapable of keeping his mouth shut when he can comment on something he shouldn't. Loyal to the death, curious about everything, isn't sure how he hasn't been poisoned by food from sketchy street vendors, and interrupts conversations to point out cats. His main interests include dinosaurs, space, Star Trek, historical novels, and monster movies (the cheesier the better). Don't touch his hat or invade his personal space unless you're looking to get your ass kicked, which will almost certainly involve biting. Fluent in Latin and will bitch people out in it (or will ramble about how unbelievably smoking his wife is, Gomez Addams style).

His playby is Óscar Jaenada, originally from The Losers. This BTS gif from (it was an interview I think?) immediately cemented the idea of a playby for him bc it was so exactly what I had in mind. Cocky little fucker who would suckerpunch God to protect his family, or even if it just seemed like a good idea at the time.

He's bisexual and nonbinary, and grew up in Ripley, California with an older sister (Laura) and twin brother (Raul). His brother disappeared when they were sixteen, and a year later, Rowan was kicked out by his parents for being queer. He moved to Los Angeles to live with his uncle, a Marine Corps veteran, and Rowan followed in his footsteps by enlisting at eighteen. He became a highly skilled sniper but turned down promotions because he liked the job he had.

At twenty-one he impulsively married a girl named Amber, who he'd known for three hours. The next year, they had a daughter named Elena. She was born partially deaf and Rowan became fluent in ASL to communicate with her.

At twenty-nine, he was injured in the line of duty and got a medical discharge. His sister divorced a few months ago, and she and her daughter Alejandra moved to a new house with Rowan's family, since her ex was being a dipshit and Rowan wanted her to be protected.

He started college courses to become a paleontologist. (Yes, the dinosaur shifter has a dinosaur-related job. I think I'm funny.) He was active in fieldwork for another 5-10 years, depending on the timeline, before taking a job as a curator at a dinosaur museum so he could be home more and have more regular hours.

In my favourite version of his character, his new curator job was at a museum in Gotham, cause that town is clearly the first choice of any normal and well-adjusted individual. He was also an active vigilante, bc nobody believed the criminals saying a dinosaur attacked them, and he had zero concern of being connected to his illegal activities.

Bonus Rowan art from when he's older in his forties:

[wuxiaphoenix]

On Writing: History and the Fantastic

I love fantasy and SF worlds, where weirdness abounds and there’s a new monster or alien around every labyrinth corner. But I favor grounding the fantastic in as much history, science, and biology as you can handle. It adds depth and backstory to your world, and there are plenty of readers out there hungry not just for entertainment, but for information. When they read a story, they want to learn something.

For me, learning the history of Northeast Asia started with Blockbuster and Samurai X.

Note, prior to that I’d seen some anime; Sailor Moon, Monster Rancher, a few others. But they were all dubs on TV, and I had no idea they were anything beyond “new cartoons”.

(The internet was not something I could get easy access to at the time. Or I’d have found out otherwise.)

Samurai X, though - that was something completely different. The animation was beautiful, the swordfights like nothing I had seen before, and the apparent historical details (samurai and people in late 19th century uniforms, really?) were intriguing enough that I wanted to see if they were anything close to real. And so started my poking into manga (Rurouni Kenshin first, others later) and early modern Japan.

(Blockbuster is also how I got to see Gundam Wing, Princess Mononoke, Howl’s Moving Castle, and Spirited Away. I miss that store.)

Finding out that the Bakumatsu was real, not an invention of the writer, and samurai had indeed been running around killing each other with swords (and guns) about the same time as the American Civl War was... well. World-shaking isn’t exactly accurate. But it certainly shook up my view of history.

I also admit to a deep sympathy with anyone who wants to tell the rest of the world, “get off my lawn and stop bothering me”. In the long term it doesn’t work, other humans being first-class botherers, especially if they think you might be weaker than they are. But the impulse is real, and relatable.

This led to a lot of digging. A lot, and probably pulling out every book in nearby libraries related to that place and time.

Eventually this led to the MDZS animation, and then various c-dramas and k-dramas. Unfortunately library books on Ming, Yuan, Qing, Goryeo and Joseon are... locally nonexistent. But between internet niche articles and JSTOR, I can keep digging and filling in the gaps as I get one book at a time. Because this part of the past is a foreign world, and makes everything you thought familiar take on a new light. With that you reconsider your own history, how place makes a difference, and how the past leaves ghosts of customs, foods, attitudes, and fears in its wake.

The past was different. But often it’s presented as “more of the same, people just didn’t know as much”... unless you look at the past in a foreign land, where historians are more willing to focus on “this is how it was, wasn’t it weird?”

But humans are humans. If you can see how weird that past over there was, you know your own must be equally weird. And then you can start finding the cracks and oddities that were glossed over in the history “everyone knows”.

Here’s a tame example. Cattle drives and cowboys, the quintessential image of the Old West. Except prior to the Civil War, cattle drives were a major thing in the Southeast, stock being driven to the railheads for points north. Meaning after the war a lot of Southern drovers headed west away from Reconstruction and picked up their old job in a new place. Sometimes bringing their old grudges and a fair amount of PTSD with them

(Yes, the Civil War had PTSD. They called it “heatstroke”. It was considered serious and sufficient explanation for rare lethal shooting sprees years or decades later.)

Knowing all this, you can see that while the character of Nathan Algren in The Last Samurai may not be a historical person, he is a very historically plausible character. And that makes the story so much better.

Steal from the best. Give your worlds reality. Your stories will last with the reader, long after they close the book.

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Pink Pen - Rafe Cameron

Words: 5.8k+ Type: Smut Summary: You've been Wheezie's tutor for more than a year now, and that means that you've been in the presence of her brother as well. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Dark!Rafe [+ mentions slight obsession from both characters]. The reader is very impulsive. Slight mentions of drinking alcohol, drug consumption, and fighting. Good Girl x Bad Boy trope. SMUT (fingering, dom!Rafe, sub!reader, risk of getting caught, rough touching?).

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You intrigue him. You intrigue him to the point of driving Rafe to insanity. He has had his eyes on you for some time, and you are, absolutely, everything he has ever wanted to have.

You are gentle, nice, sincere, and even a little shy. You are a good student, a good friend, and a good person overall. Rafe is nothing of what he just described. He is not nice to people, probably even to his own friends. He doesn’t see any pleasure in helping other people and he doesn’t see the deal with studying. He has never worked hard for almost anything in his life, because he always had a way to get to where he wanted to be, no matter what. And that is why you are always in his mind.

You started tutoring his youngest sister almost a year and a half ago. His dad, his sister, and his step-mom absolutely love you. Wheezie’s grades have never been so high, and, even, Wheezie herself has never been so excited about school. You are, many times, invited to stay over for dinner - to which you always do that adorable expression before saying something along the lines of “you are too kind”.

Rafe has forced himself to control his staring and his somewhat obsession over you. Over dinner, he only looks at you sometimes. He doesn’t come into Wheezie’s room when you’re there, even if he needs something from his sister. And he has never, ever, spoken a word to you.

The only reason why he has never said anything is that he has never really had many chances. Someone is always near you. In his house, there’s always one of his family members. And outside of the house, you always have a friend nearby. Rafe doesn’t have a good reputation. Your friends would come running to your rescue if they ever saw you talking to him.

He’s not good news, and never will be.

And even when the reality is told this way, you also can’t help but feel something towards Rafe too. Everyone knows he’s bad news. Before even taking the job as a tutor, all of your friends told you to refuse to work under the same roof Rafe Cameron lives. Same thing with your parents.

You have heard all of the rumors around the island about Rafe’s activities. He fights a lot, sometimes with random people for no reason. Most of those fights are provoked by him too. He does drugs, specifically cocaine, and occasionally smokes weed. Both of which he has never bothered to hide from the public, as he supposedly does them at parties. He drinks too much at those same parties. You have heard some of his arguments with his father, on accident, and some of his with Sarah.

He is not a good person, and he has never said anything close to a word to you. You’ve never even heard him talk about you to someone else, either in a good or bad light. Not like how you’ve heard him speak of other people. Yet, still, something makes your heart speed up, and your insides awaken with some sort of flame every time you see him.

The closest thing you two have to an actual interaction is what happens almost every single day that you tutor. It doesn’t have any words, or anything close to that.

The door to Wheezie’s room is always left slightly open when you two are studying. It’s very rare for you to close it. Unless Sarah has her friends over, and you prefer Wheezie to have some silence when she’s preparing for an important test. Rafe’s room is just down the wall. This means that he has to cross the hallway to get to his room, therefore, walking right past the door.

Every time he walks in front of it, you look up and your eyes meet right away. The first time it happened, it was extremely scary for you. You had never met Rafe, it was just your 3rd time tutoring Wheezie, and all you knew about her brother is the stories everyone tells. When he looked at you through that space between the doorway and door, you felt your heart fall to your feet. You were terrified.

And then, it happened again, and again. As mentioned before, it almost happens every day that you tutor. And, slowly, with every time you locked eyes with him, your fear evaporated and some sort of attraction grew inside you.

The feelings you have for him have always been indescribable. You don’t know how they started and why they did, but they’ve gotten worse with every day that passes. You’ve even resorted to searching it on Google, at one point, and all that came up are the cliché answers of “opposites attract” and about how common it is for people to be attracted to scary/dangerous individuals. You didn’t dive too much into that research. Not only because the results were getting weird, but because that only resulted in the confirmation that you are wholeheartedly attracted to Rafe Cameron.

Yesterday, you walked over to the Cameron’s household and tutored Wheezie like any other day. And it happened again. You had lifted your gaze when you heard the footsteps over the stairs and then saw Rafe lifting his eyes from his phone to look at you. The looks never last more than 1 to 2 seconds, but, every time you do it, it’s like the time slows down and everything is silenced. You almost feel dazed when it's over.

You’ve always thought this attraction was ridiculous. As if Rafe Cameron would ever look at someone like you in that way. If anything, you are a little ashamed of your feelings. You haven’t even come close to telling your friends. All you’ve done is sometimes stare at him in public and, consequently, get told off by your friends, every single time.

“Call me whenever you’re done.” Your best friend tells you, right as you jump out of her car.

“I will.” You tell her with a smile, “Thank you for the ride.”

She smiles back at you as an answer and, before you could close the door, she speaks.

“Remember!” You open the door completely, “Don’t spend any more time in this crazy house than you need to, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” You say playfully at her.

She rolls her eyes at your lack of judgment towards the Cameron’s, and you finally close the car’s door. You turn around and begin to make your way towards the front door. As your friend’s car drives off, you automatically look over to the side to see Rafe’s bike missing.

Your chest squeezes at the lack of his presence, and you push the front door open. Rose, who was just crossing the hallway, looks up at you as you come in and a smile grows on her face.

“Hi!” She says happily before walking toward you and giving you a quick hug, “Wheezie is already upstairs.”

“Thank you.” You tell her with a smile before beginning to make your way towards the stairs.

“I love the dress.” You hear Rose say from behind you, and you look over your shoulder.

Your smile grows at the compliment, and you look down at the flowery summer dress. You thank her once more, and she smiles back at you. You make your way up the stairs, backpack over one of your shoulders, and walk to Wheezie’s room.

The door is closed, and your eyes lift over to the closed door at the end of the hallway. He’s not home yet, but disappointment returns to your mind as you don’t get to see him walk out of the room.

You shake your head, trying to get the scenarios out of your mind, and you finally bring yourself to knock on Wheezie’s bedroom door.

“Come in!” She says.

You open the door softly and push it open. Wheezie is sitting on her bed, phone in hand, while Sarah is laying across the bed, staring at the ceiling. The two sisters look over and smiles grow on their faces as soon as they see that it’s you.

The three of you share your greetings as you put down your backpack on the ground, and you walk over to take a seat by Sarah. The conversation is light and more than comfortable. Sarah also compliments your dress and even asks you where you bought it. You all spent at least 20 minutes talking to each other until Sarah decided to leave you guys to work.

“See you in 2 hours!” Wheezie tells her sister as Sarah walks over to the door.

“If you survive…” She says suspensefully, and you smile at her.

Sarah grabs onto the doorknob as she walks, and you stare at her with absolute devastation in your heart as she closes the door fully. You, realistically, have no reason to go over there and reopen it. And this only means one thing: you will not be seeing Rafe today.

You get up from the bed slowly and walk over to the ground, where you usually study with Wheezie. It’s a rather weird thing the two of you have been doing. It's due to Wheezie feeling too comfortable everywhere else, which leads to her getting sleepy and wanting to stop working for the day. The floor became your best friend in your almost 2 years of being her tutor.

You begin to take out everything that you need from your backpack, and Wheezie does the same thing, as you two sit side by side. You pull out your laptop as well - to see if you can find any other practice tests for her as soon as you have her entertained with something else.

Wheezie hands you her corrected homework, as she always does, and you carefully read what the teacher wrote in the notes. Wheezie sits in silence while you read and whenever you’re done, you hand it back to her.

“What do you have to do for tomorrow?” You ask her.

“Nothing.” She tells you, “Only day without homework.”

You don’t hesitate in believing her and quickly fetch a practice test from your bag. She gives you a glare as you hand it to her, and her expression quickly cracks into a smile when you mimic her.

You stay silent as she does the test, and you look through your computer. You begin to try, without looking, to get your pen from your bag, but you don’t seem to find it. You look away from your screen to look for your pen, and you empty your whole bag to not find it.

“What is it?” Wheezie whispers softly.

“I can’t find my pen, for some reason.” You tell her, “I swear that I used it yesterday when I was here, but I don’t think I put it in my bag.”

Wheezie thinks for a bit, and then the realization hits her.

“You forgot it, yesterday.” Her eyes move over to her desk, “I think I put it up there but… Rafe was in here last night and needed to sign something down for Dad, so he used it.”

“He has it?” You conclude for her.

“I think so?” She says, unsure, “I don’t think he gave it back to me.”

You nod and open your mouth to say something, but she beats you to it.

“Never thought my brother would keep a bright pink pen, but...” She says, and you laugh with her. “If you want me to go grab it, it might be in his room.”

“No, it’s okay!” You tell her, “Keep working, I can go grab it.”

“Are you sure?” She asks.

“Of course.”

You stand up from the ground and, with slow steps, you open the door of Wheezie’s bedroom. You walk out, closing the door after you, and look over to the infamous one at the end of the hallway. Rafe isn’t home yet. At least you didn’t hear his bike outside. So, it will be fine. You won’t be caught. It will be quick. Just an in-and-out situation!

Step after step, you feel your heart begin to beat quicker than before. Your steps are slow and almost inaudible. When you get there, your hand lays over the cold door knob. You hesitate as the consequences of your actions run through your mind. You don’t want to anger someone who is already naturally angry. And movies always make it seem like boys hate when you go over into their rooms... Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this. Why did you not let Wheezie do it?

You turn the knob and push the door open slowly. A fresh breeze from an open window hits you as you walk in, and you take a look around.

The room is clean, the bed is made, and everything seems overall neat. There isn’t much of a personality to the room, but you’re also not quite sure what else you were expecting.

You notice, now, that you stand just by his bed, right in the middle of the room. Therefore, not, in any way, looking for your pen. Your heart is still going at frantic beats, but you’re not really caring about it.

You left the bedroom door just slightly open when you came in, so, no one really will see you from across the hall. You turn around, looking now at the door that you can only assume leads to his bathroom. You take a few more steps, staring at some books that he has, and even some clothes that he has on top of his wardrobe.

A gray jacket is folded and laid over the wardrobe. You walk to it and can’t help but lift your hand to touch it. It seems soft, and you remember that Rafe wore it last week. He had come home late that day, and you had just finished dinner with his family. You remember that you also thought it looked soft on him.

Your fingertips touch it and you feel the smooth material. A strange excitement courses through you as you do this. It's something that you shouldn’t do, in a place where you probably shouldn’t be. It’s weird, but indeed exciting.

A little smile grows on your face, but something breaks the silence.

“What are you doing?” A voice asks.

You pull your hand away quickly and look over at the door. Your eyes widen and your heart almost feels like it’s going to explode, pounding in your chest. Rafe looks back at you with a serious expression while he stands by the door. The one he pushed open, and you didn’t even hear.

“I- Uhm…” You try to speak but it feels harder than you expected, “I- I was just looking for my pen.”

“What pen?” He asks, still with a straight face.

“A pink pen.” You tell him quickly, scared that you’ll anger him if you take too long, “Wheezie told me that it could be here.”

Rafe stares at you for a few extra seconds and his expression is completely unreadable. You can’t tell if he’s mad or not. He just stares and does nothing else. You do a step to the side to distance yourself from the wardrobe but are too scared to look away from him.

Rafe finally looks away from you and looks around his room quickly. For a bit, you almost think that he’s trying to see if you broke or stole anything. But, his eyes then stop right where his desk is. In two steps, Rafe slightly closes the door back up and is standing near the desk, eyeing something. He grabs whatever it is and turns back to you. Your pink pen.

“This one?” He asks in a rhetorical tone since he has just found the pen in the most obvious spot.

“Yes.” You say quickly, walking over to him, “I didn’t see it there for some reason.” You lie.

Rafe lets you take the pen from his hand and he looks down at you as you do it. You look at him hesitatingly, and your eyes meet. You’ve never stood this close to him. A mere foot away from each other, and it all feels… weird. Something you shouldn’t be doing.

“Thank you.” You tell him.

Your voice broke into a whisper right as you began to speak. Since the distance between the two of you is so short, it was easy for Rafe to hear every syllable. He looks down at you and admires your face for quite a bit.

Innocently, you wait for any sort of response from Rafe, but he never really does anything. You force yourself to look away from him as you continuously find yourself feeling intimidated, and Rafe continues to stare at you, awaiting your next move.

“I should probably get back to your sister.” You break the silence but don’t reconnect your eyes just yet.

As you take a step towards your exit, Rafe blocks the door with one step to the side. You look up at him to find some sort of short smirk on his face as he looks down at you. You’re not sure what he’s finding so entertaining all of a sudden, but as soon as you try to walk around him again, he blocks your way once more.

Before you can try it, Rafe takes a step forward, leaving you two to be extremely close to one another. You are about to take a step back, but Rafe opens his mouth to speak before you’re able to. He leans down slightly, making your faces stay close, and you stare back at him in a slight panic.

Your heart is beating quickly, his presence is making your skin heat up and your insides turn in familiar ways. You stare into his eyes in a way you’ve never done it before and hate how you find yourself admiring their color.

“What were you doing with my jacket?” He asks you, rudely snapping you awake.

Randomly, you look over your shoulder to the jacket behind you, forcing yourself to think of something that doesn’t sound as creepy as the real reason. You turn your head back to the front to find Rafe even closer to your face, now. Your heart pounds, and your mouth becomes dry.

“I- I…” You pause to compose yourself, “I was just straightening it.”

An actual smile appears on his face, and you force yourself to pay attention to what his next words will be. Instead of his stupid perfect smile - the one you’ve never seen before this day.

“Straightening it?” He repeats it as a question.

You nod quickly.

“Why?” He asks you, sounding genuinely confused, but his smile never breaks.

“I, uhm…” You scan through your thoughts for a stupid reason, “I like to organize stuff?”

You really tried to sound sincere with what you said but all it did was make it come out as a question. It actually sounds as if you are questioning yourself. Rafe stares at you as you break under his stare, all because of your own disappointment in your worst lie yet.

He stops smiling but still has a bit of a small grin. You can see it only because of how close you stand near him.

“Organizing stuff or just my stuff?” He asks you, and you stare at him in slight surprise.

You are awful at hiding your emotions. 

You decide to not answer his questions, knowing that you will incriminate yourself further if you keep going, and decide to also look away from him. You stare at the fabric of his polo shirt and try to ignore the faint scent of his cologne. Your insides squeeze themselves, and you ignore how your mind is severely thinking of non-appropriate ways of ending this conversation. Your friends would be disgusted if they even knew a fraction of it.

You stay quiet, and he hums in question to re-grab your attention. You look up at his eyes again, and you two stare at one another in silence. You can tell he’s looking at every bit of your face, but, most of the time, his eyes glance over your lips.

“I just felt like touching it.” You whisper extremely soft, admitting, yet not confident in your own words, “So, I touched it.”

He nods with a little bit of amusement growing on his face, and you suddenly feel embarrassment run its way through your body. You look away from him completely and over at the door, ready to leave the room.

“I should really g-” You begin to say, but Rafe stops you.

“No, no.” He frowns slightly, “No need to leave. We can talk for a little longer. I’m sure Wheezie is entertained.”

He’s strangely right. You gave her a quite big practice test, she might take a bit more time to be done with it than usual. But, at the same time, you don’t want to stay here for much longer.

Your brain has been telling you to run ever since he blocked the door. All while the whole rest of your body is screaming at the mere fact that Rafe Cameron is staring at you.

Rafe notices how you give him a somewhat confused look. His eyes move away from any other part of your face to look at your body quickly. He has seen you in dresses before, but he has never seen you in this dress.

Your nervous self, noticing his eyes over your body, does probably the most embarrassing thing you could think of and decides to open your mouth. You don’t want the conversation to die out awkwardly, but, sometimes, you really shouldn’t say the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s a new dress.” You let him know.

“I know.” Rafe tells you quickly, bringing his eyes back to yours, “Never saw you in this one before.”

If your heart could be beating any faster or harder, it would’ve killed you by now. You swallow your emotions, keeping yourself calm, and try not to overthink anything he just said. It’s not every day that your crush (the one no one should ever have, for their own safety) admits that he actually looks at you.

Your eyes light up in the most ridiculous way possible, and Rafe notices it. You open your mouth to ask him if he’s serious because it all seems like something out of your dreams but decide against it. Rafe doesn’t notice that, but he does stare at your mouth once more. He moves his head a little. He gets closer to you, and you, without even thinking, do the first thing that comes to your head.

Your lips touch Rafe’s in a matter of a second and you are able to catch Rafe by surprise. It takes him just short seconds to react, and even when those seconds were the slowest ones you’ve ever experienced, what came next, sure made up for it.

His hands are quick and they grab onto your waist, pulling you against him. The soft fabric of your dress is tight to your torso, and he can feel the warmth of your skin from underneath.

The room is silent but all you can hear is the sounds of the kissing. The kiss was so innocent, at first. Lips to lips, which obviously became a makeout session that is progressively getting more and more heated. Rafe's intentions before this weren't to kiss you, but simply to tease you. This result wasn't what he expected, yet he's not backing out now.

One of your hands stays over Rafe’s shoulder, while the other one is on the back of his head. You can feel his shorter hair underneath your hand. The same hair you’ve seen from afar for so long and always wanted to touch.

Rafe’s hands are rough as they hold onto you, but you don’t mind it one bit. It’s different from what you’ve ever experienced before with other guys, but you like it.

Rafe makes the two of you move without disconnecting your lips, and, with a few slow steps, you feel the desk hit the back of your legs.

Rafe pulls away from the kiss and begins to kiss down your jaw and neck. Your insides are burning with everything that is going on and that seems to make every touch feel better than it naturally would. The flame is overall pleasure. The same one that seems to appear whenever you have to correct yourself for being attracted to the man kissing you because... he is not a good man.

You gasp at the sensation of Rafe’s lips over a sensitive spot on your neck and he hears it, reacting by giving the same spot a bite before moving back to your lips.

You comfortably lean back on the desk while your lips and tongues touch again and you feel Rafe’s hands pull on the fabric of your dress. You pull away from the kiss, slightly startled, and Rafe looks down at you.

“We can’t.” You whisper at him.

“No one will know.”

His breath hits your lips and you look over at the door, the same one that isn’t completely closed and has a little bit of a crack facing the other side of the room. You bring your eyes back to Rafe and he hasn’t moved. You give him a short nod and you notice an emotion wash over his face before he speaks.

“Just try and be quiet.”

He brings you back to the kiss after those words and it’s sad to say that you really didn’t need any more convincing after that. He kisses you for a few more seconds before doing what he was doing before.

Rafe pulls on the dress’s skirt, pulling it up over your hips, and you can hear your own heart in your ears, pounding over whatever situation you’re finding yourself in. The fabric comes up completely over your hips and stays by your waist. You almost jump at the feeling of Rafe’s hands over your naked skin, but that only made you pull him closer by his head to deepen the kiss.

His hands squeeze at the flesh on your hips and, when he lets go, one of his hands moves over to push your underwear down. The breeze coming from the open window hits your warm skin and you feel the burning of your insides worsen by the second.

Your underwear falls to the ground after Rafe pulls away from the kiss to do that, and you gasp against his mouth as soon as his hand lays over your inner thigh. He smiles against your lips and, with one finger through your slit, he feels how wet you are.

Rafe looks down at you as his finger moves and his smile worsens when he sees how your expression changes when he finds your clit. His finger begins to circle it slowly, making a good amount of pressure, just to see the reaction that you give him, and when your mouth opens, Rafe fastens it. You breathe heavily at the sensation and cling onto his shirt while you lean back on the desk.

“Feels good?” He asks in a whisper and you nod, right away.

Rafe smiles and slides his finger away. Your expression changes into quick disappointment, but Rafe moves down over to your soaked entrance, letting his finger slide with extreme ease inside you. His fingers are bigger than yours, and you sense the difference right away.

You let out a breathy moan, and Rafe muffles it with his kiss. He moves his finger back and forth slowly and then easily slides in his ring finger as well. The end of his palm moves over your clit as his movements remain slow and he continues with his mouth near yours, muffling whatever loud sound you let out.

He looks down at your face, already frowned with pleasure, and you look back at him. It’s a sight he swore he would never see but in his dreams. He was wrong. So very wrong.

Rafe quickens his fingers, finally, and now the silence of the room is broken with the sounds of your wetness whenever he moves. The squelching worsens as he curves them. His fingers move quickly, going back and forth, and your moans get breathier and, slowly, turn into whimpers of pleasure.

The sounds themselves almost make Rafe feel lightheaded, like some sort of drug he is just first experiencing and he loves every second of it. Your hold on his shoulder moves over to his hair, and he notices that even though you pull at it, you’re gentle, much gentler than him.

The bubble of pleasure begins to grow on your lower stomach and Rafe lifts his other hand from your hip to play with your clit. With his two fingers ramming into your wet cunt, his movements get quicker and much, much rougher. His circling of your clit is fast, enough for you to almost let out a loud moan, but you beat yourself to it by closing your mouth tightly. Your breathing is heavy and uncontrollable and your orgasm is already so near.

“Rafe.” You let out a broken whisper while looking up at him.

He only moves his hands quicker this time and he looks at you in absolute bliss when you hold yourself from moaning all over again. The squelching noises are just enough to drive him to final insanity. His fingers are soaked to his knuckles and he swears that he doesn’t ever want to stop moving his fingers inside of you.

He curves them and scissors a few times and, finally, finds and touches a specific spot inside of you. He has his lips on yours, muffling your obvious moans, this time, and you cry out into his mouth.

“Wanna cum?” He asks against your lips in a low tone.

You nod at him quickly, giving him a look that almost drives the man feral. He kisses you again, making you just moan at the mere feeling of his lips and tongue against yours, and he decides to let you have it.

“Then do it, princess.” He whispers against your swollen lips before doing some last absurdly quick thrusts with his hand and driving you over the edge. “Come all over my fingers.”

Your whole body explodes with pleasure, and Rafe muffles your moans with the best of his ability, yet never stops his hands. The flame you have felt burning deep in your body finally ascends enough throughout your limbs and fingertips, and you close your eyes, letting yourself be taken over by it.

You slowly come back, and Rafe slows down to a stop. You open your eyes slowly and feel the warmth of your body descend. You feel like you're shaking all over. Rafe looks down at you as you slowly come back from the intense orgasm, and you look back at him. Your eyes have this type of dazed look over them. Your chest moves up and down slower than before.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and you bite your lips to keep quiet, feeling sensitive to his touch. You look down at his wet fingers, and Rafe’s mind sparks with an idea. He brings his fingers to your mouth, and you open it almost right away. His fingers are taken by the warmth of your mouth and you suck them clean.

Rafe pulls his hand away and quickly kisses you, tasting you in your own mouth. He groans against your lips and your other hand comes to cling onto his polo on his chest.

A door at the end of the hallway opens and you two separate from the kiss right away. Rafe pulls down the skirt of your dress and helps you lean away from the desk. 

The footsteps are heard over the hardwood flooring but they soon disappear when they're near the stairs. You look back at Rafe when the sound disappears and you watch him as he adjusts your dress ever so slightly before looking back up at your face.

“I still need my underwear.” You whisper at him.

“No, you don’t.” He tells you.

You look at him with widened eyes, and he smiles down at you. He moves away to grab something from the ground and you look down to see that it’s your pink pen. You grab it, and he looks down at you.

“I should go.”

He doesn’t say anything but looks down at you, and, this time, you don’t find yourself intimidated from being under his stare, even when a smirk begins to grow on his face. A sudden urge fills in your chest as you’re about to walk away and a question repeats in your mind. What if this was just a one-time thing? Is it over now?

You stop yourself from moving, reach him, and kiss Rafe one last time, following your urge. He kisses back, and you notice how you pull yourself closer to him, having your body glued to his. His hands come back to you and they squeeze roughly onto your body. It’s strange to like touch as rough as his, but you're beginning to need it whenever you're near him.

You pull away from the kiss with a little proud smile. Rafe is only able to get a glimpse of it before you turn around and leave the room. You walk down the hallway and disappear into his sister's bedroom.

Rafe walks and closes his door, bringing his hands to his face. It has been so long since he first wanted this, and, now, he finally had it. He can still feel your soft lips against his, your fingers on his hair, your moans repeating in his ears, and your warm skin under his palms.

He groans to himself at the mere thought of some things that seem to be engraved in his mind and uncovers his face. He stares at the floor for a few seconds in absolute silence, still thinking, and something catches his eye.

He closes his eyes as he takes a deep breath and reopens them to look at the open window. The breeze touches his face and his mind runs loose, worse than ever before. He's not done with you.

It's finally posted!! Do you like this type of story? Pls let me know, I have a lot more ideas for this universe - 2 of which are already written. Hope you enjoyed this <3

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