#your dark fics truly make me jump up and down and giggle and kick my feet

[grackleshells]

Does she accept card payment, by chance??😩😩

tarot ࿏ wm

summary: in which you visit a psychic for a tarot card reading and find that her tricks seem too real.

words: 4.9K

warnings: dark!wanda, fem!reader, non-con/dubcon, tummy riding, scissoring, dildo (r receiving), size kink, use of magic for mind manipulation, dumbification, degradation

this post is a dark!fic and is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

The loose rocks of the pavement scuffed under your heel as you mindlessly kicked them with your shoe, taking a long, slow drag from the cigarette. It was cold that night, and the smoke that you exhaled through your lips was dense with the fog from your warm breath.

Nat reached forward and took the cigarette that you were sharing from your fingers. “It’s been months, y/n.” Her leather jacket squeaked as she curled her arm to bring the cigarette to her lips. The air was damp and the music from the bar muffled as Nat leaned against her truck. “I don’t mean to be that friend who just tells you to just get over it and move on, but just get over it and move on.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved your numb fingers into the pockets of your coat. “I have moved on.”

Nat squinted at you as she turned the cigarette back to you, and you took it, breathing in the smoke she exhaled. “You fled the bar as soon as you saw her across the room.”

You glanced around, hoping that your ex was still inside and nowhere near you. It had been two months since the nasty and dramatic breakup between you and the woman you had been with for over three years. It was sudden and unexpected, and she really gave you no other reason for it besides “I think we should see other people.” You knew that meant she had been or planned to cheat on you, which just made the entire ordeal even more sickening.

“Is it so bad that I don’t want to be around the person who dumped me after three years together? I mean, c’mon, maybe two months is a long time for you but on the time scale of relationships, it’s still very fresh to me.”

“Aha! So you haven’t moved on, like I said,” Nat countered, taking the cigarette right as you were about to take a second draw.

“No, I—I have moved on. I mean, I don’t care about her anymore. It’s not like I still love her. It just hurts seeing her.” You tried to explain it the best you could. You truly did not love her anymore and would never even fantasize or contemplate getting back with her after how crudely she had left you, but seeing her reminded you of all the hurtful words she had said and how she had betrayed your trust so cruelly. It was a reminder that you were heartbroken.

Nat only nodded, looking down at the pavement and crossing her legs. There were a few beats of silence as you stared up at the full moon and she stared at the side of your face. “You know, I would say you should try therapy, but why waste a thousand dollars when you could get a psychic reading for 20 bucks.”

“Huh?” You turned to look at her incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

Nat shrugged and handed you the cigarette. “Maybe to give you some clarity, or the closure that she never gave you. You know I don’t believe in all that holistic spiritual shit, but I do think something like a tarot card reading could help you move forward, even if it’s just by placebo effect.”

“How?”

She shrugged. “I mean, they tell you what you want to hear. It’s fake, you know. They figure out what you’re in there for and they tell you everything they can so that you leave with a smile on your face and their pockets full. Nonetheless, it’s some pretty good bullshit they spew. Better than anything I could tell you, with how shit I am at words.” She kicked at the rocks and chuckled. “It’s either that or going to church.”

You raised your eyebrows and laughed. “Church makes a psychic reading sound like heaven.”

“There’s one in town, you know?” she added, turning and pointing West. “Down at the end of Ellis Avenue.”

“Ellis Avenue?” you echoed. In all the years of your life you had lived in that small town, you’d never heard of that street. “What’s down there?”

“A shit load of nothing. It’s where the town turns into all woods. But I know there’s a tiny psychic shop down there. It’s got a purple sign that says 20 dollars for a tarot card reading.”

“Tarot cards,” you laughed. “Why have I never heard of it?”

“It used to be owned by some lady named Agatha, but there’s a new woman there now that took her place. Wendy, I think she’s called. Wait, no—Wanda! That’s it.”

“Wanda,” you sounded out the name, and you noticed how the wind picked up and caught the word from your lips, whistling it into the air eerily. “That’s a fitting name for a psychic.”

Nat flicked the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with her boot, rocks crackling under her heel. “You should go tonight. I’m sure it stays open pretty late.”

You glanced back to the bar, knowing that your ex was somewhere still inside. You certainly weren’t going back in there, and Natasha didn’t seem like she was willing to go home yet, so your only other options were to either go home and sleep or go test out this psychic.

“Fine,” you finally said, digging your car keys out of your pockets. “I’ll go check it out.”

Nat hesitated suddenly. “Well, actually it’s a little late. Maybe we can go tomorrow, and I’ll go with you.”

You were already walking to your car. “I’m not getting any sleep tonight after seeing her, anyway. I might as well just go.”

Nat looked around and scratched her head. “Well, just be safe. There really is nothing on that end of town, and I have no idea who this woman is. Keep your phone on you and text me when you get there and when you leave.”

“Okay, mother,” you joked, to which she grinned. You waved her goodbye and got in your car, watching as Nat walked back into the bar.

“Ellis Avenue,” you whispered as you typed the words into the map app on your phone. Nothing came up. “Huh?” You deleted it and typed it again, but still nothing showed. Did Nat get the name wrong?

You glanced out your window in the direction that Nat had pointed. She said it was on the far West end of town, where the woods started. You supposed you could just drive around until you found it—the town was too incredibly small for you to not find it. You imagined that you were so used to the town that you never looked hard enough to notice new things, and that’s why you had never seen the shop before.

Buckling up, you pulled out of the bar and onto the road. You drove West across town, taking a few turns that you knew would lead you to the woods. After a while of seeing nothing, you thought maybe Nat was pranking you, but finally, you saw a dingy street sign that read Ellis Avenue and a tiny little shop with a purple sign that read $20 for tarot card reading above a hand with an eye in the palm.

There were no cars in the parking lot. The place barely looked open if it weren’t for the blinking purple sign. You paused, wondering if this was really safe. It was late at night, and this shop was way out of town, alone and isolated on a road where there were no other shops or houses.

It seemed intriguing, though. As you stopped in the middle of the road and stared at the shop, you felt something pulling you towards it. Maybe it was the universe telling you that this was going to be good for you, that whatever this psychic could tell you would be the key to unlocking your grief and moving forward with your life. Whether it was placebo or not, maybe this would help you be in the same room as your ex without freaking out and fleeing.

Trusting what you believed to be your intuition, you cut your wheel and turned into the gravel driveway, your headlights reflecting off the dark tinted front windows. Shutting off your car, you walked up the crickety front steps to the door. You paused, feeling almost as if you should knock before entering. Considering that it was a public shop, you just helped yourself inside, gently opening the door to be met with the intensely strong smell of incense.

A cough scratched at your throat as you stepped inside and closed the door. The air was smoky from an incense stick burning in the corner and from probably two dozen candles burning all around the room. Your eyebrows sewed together as you looked around curiously.

Everywhere you looked were little trinkets and whatnots—crystals of varying sizes and shapes and colors, tiny bottles of strange colored liquids, little jars filled with herbs and flowers and sealed shut with melted wax, bundles of sage and other herbs and leaves, and other little things that you could not recognize. Whoever this psychic was, she truly put on the act and made her shop part of the show. It would be impossible for someone to walk in and not feel like they were being handled by someone who knew what they were doing in the realm of spirituality.

You jumped when you heard a shifting sound, your eyes flickering to a curtain of beads that separated this room and another. Through the curtain that was parted by a ringed hand came a woman, a young woman with long brown curls and smokey green eyes.

“Hello,” she greeted you with a low, accented voice. “How may I be of service to you tonight?” Her voice was pleasant but careful, and her narrowed eyes looked you up and down as if she were suspicious of you.

“Hi,” you squeaked, knowing how silly you probably looked standing in her room of witchy tools. She wore a black dress with a red scarf wrapped around her arms, her fingers fiddling together as she neared you. “Um, are you Wendy—I mean, Wanda?”

An amused look crossed her eyes. “I am. And you’re y/n.”

Your spine jumped out of your skin. How did she know your name? You looked down at yourself, wondering if maybe your wallet was hanging out and showing your ID, but there was no reason she could have known your name. You chalked it up to it just being a small town and everybody knowing everybody. “Yeah.”

“Sit,” she spoke, gesturing to the table sat in the center of the room with candles lining it. You saw a crimson set of tarot cards sitting perfectly on the tabletop. “You’re here for a tarot card reading.” She simply said it rather than asking it.

“I suppose,” you slowly began, feeling your nerves tingling. You tried to remind yourself that psychics were like magicians. They used tricks you were unaware of to make it look like they can read your mind or have supernatural abilities.

You carefully sat down at the circular table, and once you were sitting, she gracefully sat down opposite from you, letting the red scarf slip off her arms and hang over the seat of her chair. The smell of the incense was almost nauseating as you watched her fingers take the tarot cards and begin shuffling them expertly.

The silence was loud as she eyed you while shuffling. You supposed she was pretending to look hard into your mind, so you just stared back at her.

“It must have been hard seeing your ex at the bar,” she said simply as she started to cut the deck into thirds. Her hands were moving so swiftly you couldn’t keep up with them, only seeing a blur of rings and cards.

Your lips parted in shock. “Um… I know you’re a ‘psychic’ or whatever, but how the hell did you know that?”

She didn’t answer you. She laid the cards into three decks in front of you and then withdrew her hands, leaning back in her seat. You noticed then how quiet and solitary the shop was, how intimate with its low lighting and flickering candles and smoke.

“Draw the top card from each pile,” she instructed, a sultry tone in her voice.

You wanted to press her question further, but you reached forward and took the top card from each pile as she said, laying them face-down on the table in front of you. When you were finished, she slid the remaining piles to the side and flipped over the first card to your left. You were confused when you saw that the card was upside down.

“The Chariot,” she read, her eyes blinking thoughtfully. “Reversed. Your future has been carried away from you.”

You tried not to scoff, but she noticed anyway, sharply eyeing you and pursing her lips. She continued anyway, flipping over the second card which was upright.

“Death.”

Your heart started to pound in your chest, your brain already calculating what that card meant. It was eerie, the way it looked, drawn in a smudgy black and white sketch of a body laying dead on the ground and a horseback knight, assumedly the murderer, jumping high over its victim.

“Your relationship ended abruptly, and you find grief a difficult transition.”

You still did not know how she knew you had been through a breakup, but maybe it was an easy guess for a young girl walking into a psychic shop. A part of you, a very gullible part, started to wonder if maybe she really was a psychic.

Finally, she turned over the last card. Chills pierced your spine as you recognized the Satanic image on the card—Baphomet, a horned man, drawn with an unnerving smile over the words The Devil.

“Ah,” she smiled, her lips curling into a pearly smile that caught your eye. She was a beautiful feigned sorceress, that was for sure. “You’ve been tricked.”

Your face scrunched at her words. “Tricked? How?” You were genuinely curious what she meant, even if you were starting to fall for her illusions.

She paused for a thoughtful moment, fiddling with the rings on her fingers as she stared at the card. “She was judgmental, wasn’t she?”

You held your breath, silently urging her to go on.

“She made you feel ashamed of yourself and manipulated you into thinking you were nothing without her. She even made you feel like you were unworthy of her love, though she suffocated you with it before taking it away abruptly. She tricked you into thinking you could not breathe without her, and then she took away your oxygen. And you didn’t even know it was happening, did you, detka?”

She was staring at you now, her misty eyes gazing into your own. A drowsy feeling overtook you, and you couldn’t keep hold of your thoughts. They were rushing past you, plucked just before you could think them, scrambled out of your reach. You didn’t know it was the crimson glow on her fingertips under the table giving you this blank and dazed feeling.

“I…” you trailed, your head starting to pound. “How did you…”

“I am a psychic,” she spoke, and her voice started to sound far away from you, though she was sitting just across the small table. “Says it on the door. You knew it before you came in.”

Tilting your head, you squinted at her, your mouth forming words that your brain would not let your tongue speak. Suddenly, you felt like you had forgotten completely how to speak.

It was then that every candle in the room except for the few on the table were snuffed suddenly by a gushing wind that tickled your hair across your cheek. In the dark, under the glow of the table’s remaining candles, you saw a scarlet light in her eyes.

“You… you’re…”

“I am everything you think I am and more,” she interrupted you. “And you are more than you think.” She leaned forward, bringing her hand out of the table. You watched as she twisted and curled her fingers around in the air, sparkly red magic dancing between them as she scrambled your brain with a tilted head and a curious stare.

Suddenly, flashing memories of your ex passed through your mind. The fights, the arguments, the words you had pushed down and forgotten about under your ex’s manipulative gaslighting.

Wanda spoke, “She made you think the relationship was perfect so you would stay with her for as long as she wanted you, and so that when she didn’t want you anymore, she got to have the upper hand while you suffered. Evil little cunt.”

“That’s not true—”

“I’m seeing it right here, detka.” She twisted her fingers, and the moments were clear in your mind. Your head started to feel fuzzy, your vision dim as you gripped the table, losing all sense of balance like you might fall right out of the chair. “How could someone treat a perfect little kitten like that? Take you for granted so, and leave you out on the road like a discarded dog.”

Now your heart was starting to hurt as much as your head, and before you realized it, you were crying. The smell of incense was burning hard through your nostrils as the witch picked her way through your brain and scrambled the rest. She was surprised at how easy it was to get in your head from the moment you had walked through the front door. She heard your thoughts before she even stepped in the room and looked at you. Now, seeing how easily a non-magical human had broken you down, she gleamed at the thought of how easy it would be for her and her powers to dumb you down even further.

“Stand up.”

Control over your own body was way past you. You moved at her words, standing sharply to your feet. She grinned in satisfaction and stood slowly, walking towards the curtain of beads she had first came through. She didn’t even have to speak or move her fingers for you to follow, floating mindlessly after her through the long strings of beads into the next room.

The back room was small, a sort of bedroom with a crimson velvet bed and a few pieces of furniture. More candles were lit back there, and the smell of incense was even stronger.

“Take off your clothes, detka, and lay down.”

Your body submitted to her voice. Mind far from matter, you peeled your own clothes away until you were bare naked and laid down on the bed, feeling the velvety red sheets on your nude skin.

Wanda sauntered towards the end of the bed, feasting upon your nudity with her darkened orbs. Her hands sinking into the mattress, she crawled on all fours onto the bed and towards you. You couldn’t describe what it was you were feeling. The state of your mind was both entranced and clear, sunk deep into murky waters while also soaring high in the clouds. It felt like static buzzing within and around you, and between blimps of momentary unconsciousness you suddenly saw that Wanda was now straddling you, her short black dress resting high on her thighs. You could feel her bare pussy resting on your lower stomach, her hands gliding across your upper abdomen.

“The most perfect thing to have fallen in my hands,” she whispered, her hands snaking over your tits and squeezing them eagerly. A whine escaped your throat, and she looked surprised to see that you were still present. “Still with me, detka? Let’s have a little fun before you go. I like playing with my new toys right out of the package.”

Her magic infiltrating your conscience was hot and feverish like fire, like bits of ember and ash sizzling away at the mass of your cognizance. It trickled down through your skull like lava and burned the inside of your throat. What piece of you was still there tried to file through which exact moment it was that she caught you—as soon as you walked in? When you inhaled the strong incense? Or was it when you sat at the table? Or when you touched the cards? Was it the very moment when you stopped your car in the middle of the road and stared at the blinking purple sign? Could it possibly be the very moment that you looked up at the full moon outside the bar as Nat told you about this place? Which moment was it that she found her way inside your head and stapled the roots of her magic to your mind?

It felt like you were lucid dreaming as the witch’s hands scoured your body, groping at your tits, squeezing the soft flesh of your waist, tickling over your collarbones and neck. You felt pressure on your lower tummy and saw that she was grinding her bare cunt against you, her wetness sliding easily over your skin.

“Silly puppy,” she taunted with a sharp laugh, her hands fondling your breasts as she undulated her hips against you, skirt catching on your waist. Your skin was growing sweaty under her fingers as her magic coursed through your blood like a venomous infection. “A witch doesn’t reveal her tricks, does she?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as she let out a soft moan, grinding harder on your stomach as she pinched and tugged harshly at your nipples. Your body reacted with a small gasp and a jolt through your muscles, and she smiled.

Lifting up, she backed herself between your legs and then spread them open wide at an angle, casting one leg over yours. Your breathing picked up as she pressed her clit against yours, grinding her cunt into you.

“Fuck, puppy,” she moaned, throwing her head back as dirty squelching noises filled the room. You were wetter than you had realized, and it was evident by the feeling of both yours and Wanda’s juices mixing together. She pushed your hips upward so that she was at a better angle, halfway folding your body as she used your pussy to get herself off. A drop of your mixed wetness started to slide down your tummy, running over the spot that was still wet from when she had grinded herself there.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing, detka,” she grunted, her eyebrows sewing together as the bed started to squeak with her motions. “You just be a good toy and let me use you, and I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to worry about your ex anymore, or your job, or your friends, or even your life. It’s in my hands now.”

Her feelings of pleasure allowed her focus to slip momentarily, and you took the opportunity to string together words of your own will, still struggling to speak. “P-Please,” you said coarsely, looking at her with pleading eyes. She knew exactly what you meant, because she was inside you with her own mind in yours, and she could feel that coil of pressure in your belly, and you could feel hers, too.

She grinned, grinding her clit harder against yours, reaching up to pinch at your nipples. Your body squirmed, teeth piercing into your own lip as a moan escaped your throat, heavenly pleasure washing over you in an orgasm like a warm ocean wave. Wanda moaned and her hips stuttered as she came, her hand that was holding your leg up squeezing your flesh painfully.

She panted as she came down, and you thought maybe that would satisfy her and she would let you go, but now she was crawling down between your open legs and shoving her face between them.

“Ah!” you whined as her tongue lapped over your throbbing clit, slipping down to push deep inside you and tasting you there. Your body reacted outside of your control, trying to jerk away.

“Be still,” she ordered in a whisper, and your body commanded like a machine, stilling as she continued lapping at your sensitive clit. She suckled and pulled away to spit right on your slit before returning her mouth to you again.

“W-Wanda,” you mouthed, hands squeezing at the sheets as another coil of pressure sprung within your belly. It tightened and tightened as she devoured you, and before you knew it, you were blinded with another orgasm, eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling open as you cried out.

Coming back up, she licked her lips and moaned at your taste, wiping your remnants from her mouth and spreading it over your belly. Your legs were trembling now, clit throbbing painfully, but by the look in her eyes, she was not done.

“You saw all my toys in there,” she spoke as she leaned over you to reach to the nighstand beside the bed, one of her necklaces tickling your nose in a cool metal graze. “But I keep some in here for special pets like you.”

Dumbed down, you didn’t know what she meant until, after hearing her open a drawer and rummage around, she kneeled back down between your legs, holding an uncomfortably large dildo in her hands.

You had the urge to jump off the bed and run away, but her magic had been keeping you pinned to the bed this whole time. You watched with wide eyes as she spit on the dildo and smeared her saliva around it, lowering herself down between your legs again and running the tip of the toy through your folds. Jolts of electricity went through you at the touch on your overstimulated pussy, your voice strings cracking together to sound out a pathetic whine.

“If you’re going to be a good toy, you will take whatever I give you,” she whispered, eyes concentrated on your bright red clit and the way your wet folds moved around the dildo as she teased it through them. “Be a good pet.”

She pushed the tip into your entrance, and for a moment, pleasure coursed through you, but as she pushed it in further and your hole ached to stretch around its girth, you cried out, “T-too b…big.”

“Take it, my dirty slut,” she husked, grabbing your thigh and jerking your legs open wider. Sharp pain filled you as she stuffed your pussy full of the dildo, sinking it all the way inside until the hilt touched your skin, and the tip of it was braced against your cervix. Your mouth fell open at how full you felt, how deep it was, at how much your walls ached and throbbed around it. “That’s it,” she praised, “That’s so good, detka.”

She eased it out, earning a hiss from you, and then forced it back in, doing this slowly until the resistance eased and she started to thrust it harshly into you.

“Look at you, taking the whole thing,” she spoke as she grabbed your knees with her free hand and bent them against your stomach so she could fuck you deeper. Using her magic to keep your knees bent, she placed her free hand on your clit and started to rub it hard.

“No!” you exclaimed, your clit hurting from the contact that it was ultra-sensitive to. You tried to squirm, but you couldn’t, and the dildo was hammering hard into you and poking through the skin of your lower tummy and making your legs turn to jelly. “W-Wanda,” you cried, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks.

She smirked at you, feasting on the sight of you crying and begging her to stop, wanting to squirm away from the overstimulation. She was trying to break you down even more, dwindle and dumb you down into a messy puddle of nothing, and she was doing a great job of that.

Squelching noises filled the air as she pivoted the dildo into your hole at a rough speed with one hand and rubbed hard at your clit with the other, pausing only to spit on your rubbed raw clit before rubbing it again.

“W-w-w…” You tried to speak, but your mind was so scrambled, and you were in so deep under her spell and her cruel administrations to your body that you couldn’t do anything but scream as two orgasms violently crashed over you one right after the other. You didn’t even notice that you squirted upon the second one, shooting the warm liquid right upon the skin of Wanda’s chest where her dress did not cover.

She twisted the dildo inside you as you came, urging more liquid out of you until finally there was no more, and you were on the brink of blacking out. Finally, she pulled the dildo out of you and put it away, putting your legs back down on the bed and climbing off you.

Your core ached and throbbed as more tears slid down your cheeks, your legs violently trembling. Wanda rounded the bed to place a hand over your forehead. Through teary vision, you took one last glimpse of her.

“You will be my best toy,” she whispered, a dimple forming in her cheek as she smiled before whispering, “Sleep.”

[headkiss]

anna <3 honey <3 hiii <3 i have a request if you’re up for it?

inspired by your latest shy!reader x eddie fic where it’s her first day at hawkins high— shy!reader being all heart eyes for eddie who pretty much worships the ground she walks on but somehow is oblivious to her feelings even though he flirts constantly just to see her get flustered. he doesn’t notice she’s only all sweet and giggly and nervous around him, though. she’s generally extremely shy so eddie figures that’s why, but it’s truly because she’s head over heels for him 🥹 a cutesy friends to lovers

harmonia my love !!! thank u sm for requesting i hope u like it this one’s for u <333 (the other shy!reader blurb) | 0.7k of fluff and shy!reader

You walk the unfamiliar halls in search of your next class. So far, unsuccessfully.

There’s a debate in your head: is it more embarrassing to be late to your class because you couldn’t find it, or to ask for directions like you’re a tourist in a new city?

You figure that embarrassing yourself in front of a class full of people is much, much worse than just one person. The next part is just figuring out who to ask.

Deciding to avoid any groups (even looking at them makes your heartbeat jump a little), you scan the hall for anyone that looks approachable.

For some reason, you land on the boy with long, dark curls and a tattoo of bats on his forearm. Yeah, super approachable. He’s alone, leaning next to what you’re guessing is his open locker.

You force your feet to carry you towards him.

“Sorry, could you maybe tell me where English is?”

“Wha- oh.” Eddie turns around to find you, a face he's never seen—a pretty one, at that—talking to him of all people. “Hi. Yeah, why don’t I walk you?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Your voice is soft, quiet enough that Eddie probably wouldn’t have heard you if he wasn’t so focused on listening.

“Who’s your teacher?” You tell him, and he smiles, “me too. See, I’m going there anyway. It’s no problem.”

It’s then that you’re hit with the realization of how attractive he is. His eyes and the lashes that frame them, the smile that’s extra sweet compared to his style, the guitar pick that hangs from a chain around his neck.

The best you can do then is nod, untucking your hair from behind your ears to try and hide your face.

“So, why’d you move to Hawkins?” He asks, shutting his locker and nodding for you to follow him.

“Um, for my mom’s work.”

“Yeah? Do you like it here?”

“It’s different.”

You stick to short answers, not because you don’t want to give him better ones, but because you’re terrified of doing something you’ll kick yourself over for days.

“That’s one way of putting it,” he says, sending you a wink.

You laugh softly, a girlish giggle. It’s music to his ears, and he plans to draw the sound from you again and again.

You nod, looking down at your feet in the silence that follows, unsure how to fill the gaps. In your distraction, you bump shoulders with someone. A boy, probably an athlete, because it’s enough to knock you into Eddie.

He holds your upper arm gently to steady you, his hand warm, his rings cool.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. You okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

Despite your answer he keeps his hand where it is. He’s not dragging you along, nor is his hold tight. It’s so soft that you peek down at your shoes again to hide the look on your face.

Eddie thinks he might have dreamt you up. You in your sweet dress and mary-janes. You with a small smile he wants to see widen. He thinks you’re adorable, and he plans to keep talking if only to make you cutely flustered again.

He drops his hand from your arm when you make it to the door of your classroom to hold an arm out welcoming you inside. You miss the warmth of it.

You sit down at the back of the class, in the corner closest to the windows, hoping it’s not somebody else’s spot.

Eddie follows you and sits atop of your desk until the bell rings.

The teacher walks in and seems to notice Eddie’s presence right away, “Munson, what are you doing in my class?”

“I thought you had this class?” You whisper. He sends you a wink in return.

“Just visiting, sir,” he says, standing up and letting the attention fall on him. He can tell you’d be uncomfortable if it was on you more than it already is as a new student. Besides, he’s used to it, even if it’s usually in a negative way.

“Get to your own class, won't you?”

Eddie salutes, strolling to the door seemingly without a care at all. You watch him the whole time, and just before he turns the corner, he looks over his shoulder and smiles at you.

Did he really lie about being in your class just so you’d let him walk you? You sink down in your chair and smile at your desk.

[goobiegoobert]

maybe im just,,,, thirsty and requesting sm but like SINCE YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE THIRSTY FROM MINE I HAVE TO SEND YOU SOMETHING IVE BEEN THINKIN OF,, how would sun/moon react to a parent!reader? (kinda like the milf!reader and dilf!reader fics going around) and theyre just feral for reader because they just know how to take care of the kids and when they offer to help?? makes sun/moon short circuit and fight the urge to foam at the mouth for parent!reader

i love the thought of them going crazy for the hottie that parent!reader is sighh

What a lovely dream...

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A/N: I'm not the dad friend for no reason, time to put my dilfery to use <333

Warnings: Smut, Dubcon, brief overstim, obsessive behavior, light daddy mention, Dom reader

18+ DNI with this post if underage, you will be blocked

Word Count: 1.2k words

[ Male Reader, will post female version later. Request if you'd like trans reader versions! ]

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It wasn't expected for this to happen, but to whatever creator was above watching it truly blessed the two daycare attendants. See, most of the day had run past as usual of hassling kids around and forcing them down for a nap at this point, it felt quite tedious. That was until you'd arrived at least!

Sun was busy helping a child with their glitter glue by opening the bottle and passing it back staring intently at what they were gonna do, only to have the child's head perk up and start to beam for the first time all day! Oh, joyous day! Children smiling was always something to make the attendant melt at the wires, so badly did he want to scoop one up and keep them all night to have a friend to play with, this child simply did just that.

Though it took moment to face and giggle at whatever the child was seeing the toddler jumped up from their seat across the room latching onto the leg of something, raising their eyes slowly began to overwhelm the poor sun mas the fans kicked on once seeing their processors heat up significantly. Oh, dear. ❝ Daddy, look! sun sun helped! ❞

There you were, Mister. Y/n, standing above the children with an all too familiar expression as you'd bend down to pick up your child with a grunt spinning them around remarking how big they'd gotten since you saw em this morning! The child was full of buzzing with excitement and clinging to your pant legs practically ready to climb on top of you, and to be honest Sunny was too. His head was spinning in a delight almost kin towards how children described feeling sick.

How come he was sick? Oh, oh no were the mechanics gonna have to fix him?? Sunny didn't like being away from the daycare it was always too dark!

But the fluttery feeling as their circuits fried left him far too gone to exactly care, but then it happened. Sunny shut down from overheating and fell to the foamy mats below with a hard thud of their long tangly limbs.

By the time everything has been repaired from frayed clothing to melted wires you'd long since been gone, which saddened the daycare attendant to bits. But what really made it up was the next morning when you'd dropped off your kid.

Just the right size for him, sure you were smaller everyone was, but to Sunny seeing you hold up a tray of cookies to the various children with their parent's consent made the poor man's heart swell beyond anything, you were perfect. A work of art, something colorful and shimmery with glitter glue everything he liked in a man! Well.. You currently seemed to be the only person capable of keeping such an infatuation going for more than a day. Time flew by and Sunny desperately was a lost puppy trying to gain your love in return, from pulling you into a giant hug lifting you above the rest. Even giving you drawings he'd spent the day fumbling over as he thought about you, each word from his voice box struggling to come out when you'd speak.

One day you'd came to the daycare when your ex-spouse had the child, Sunny was confused why you'd come out here? It was surely a bit silly, it wasn't until everyone, and I mean everyone, had left did the daycare attendant understand why you'd come here. Understanding the way you'd been pressing soft kisses along his casing praising each ridge of texture into the wide plastered smile. Sunny felt like he could die at this moment, you'd guide a caring hand towards your pants mentioning he could touch there if wanted, and boy did he do just that. Eagerly touching your cock curious beyond anything trying to remember the sweet sighs and rumbles of noise being heard. Practically begging as any words slipped out to try and let him closer to you

❝ Mean, mean! Please, oh please love you so much, much love let me take care of you! ❞

Sunny didn't want to ever hear anyone else make such beautiful sounds, nor did they want to share. Almost wanting to cry out about how he wanted to try and please you more than anything only for your grip to loosen allowing feathery light hands to press against the wires along his neck causing a high pitched squeak to emit out of the daycare attendant. You wanted to hear more allowing him to direct you to what felt like heaven to him and abusing those areas to your hearts content.

You weren't going to let him please you like the attendant so graciously craved but you offered so much more in return that made his head spin with a ticklish delight. Such a lovely game!

❝ Such a good plaything you are, right dear? ❞

A short cry erupted from Sunny as their system started to reach its peak sparks flying off the back of his head as an odd wave of white flashed over, unable to comprehend your kind words talking him down back to everything. Putty in your arms he truly was crying about how he wanted more and to please give it to him, but being quite the meanie it was decided against as you'd fix them up to what you could know pressing small kisses to the flaps of his sun rays. Truly feeling upset at this Sun began to throw a bit of a tantrum lightly hitting his hands on the floor wanting to cry at this. Sun just wanted to make love with you and have millions and millions of kids like everyone else does! how come he can't now? This little hissy fit was quickly cut off with the lights turning off, it was silent for a bit but you could clearly recognize the foamy hands pulling harshly on your arm to the point it truly began to sting. ❝ Naughty, naughty boy. It's past your bedtime. ❞

[pixy-stix-art]

Can I have hugs and maybe noms I'm really touch starved- anxious anon

Same anon. I almost cried the other day because my cat cuddled with me. Anyway….here’s a unedited really soft touch starved fic for ya. I’m surprised I haven’t written something like this before.

Finally safe

(Warnings: safe vore, talk of past trauma)

———————————————————————

Ranboo sighed as he huddled up in his bed in the walls. The weather was getting cold again. And even with all the extra blankets he had now, it was still too cold. He shivered wrapping the blankets around himself.

Ranboo wanted to be warm. And he knew he could ask Tubbo for help. But he already asked for so much, he didn’t want to be a burden. He had always been a burden to others. The other borrowers he had been raised with had made that clear. He was born differently, with half black and half white hair. Along with odd black spots on his skin. He was different and that was bad.

He frowned remembering all the harsh words and nights spent alone as a kid. After his parents had their accident, he was left to fend for himself. Never getting the hugs or affection he wanted so bad. He had gone this long without any, he didn’t need them. Once he was claimed to be old enough he was kicked out of the colony. He found a good home, but was then found by a cat. He moved again and found Tubbo’s home.

He was injured from his run in with the cat and passed out in the middle of Tubbo’s floor. He was lucky Tubbo didn’t step on him. He was definitely surprised to wake up, let alone wake up to a young goat hybrid hovering over him looking worried. He was scared but soon learned to trust Tubbo. Even after Tubbo scared him really bad that one time Tubbo’s dad almost found him….. that had definitely not been fun.

Ranboo did his best to be well behaved and and always laugh and joke around with Tubbo. He didn’t want him to regret helping him if he realized how broken Ranboo was.

Ranboo gave up trying to get warm sitting in his bed. He wrapped a blanket around himself and walked down the chilly, dark and dusty path to Tubbo’s room. If anything he could distract himself from the cold by talking to Tubbo.

He stumbled out of the small exit he had carved out underneath the bed in Tubbo’s room. He could already feel it was warmer. He walked out from underneath the bed looking for Tubbo.

“Tubbo?” He called out to the hybrid.

Tubbo’s was working on home work at his desk when he heard his name be called. He smiled recognizing the voice. Ranboo. He turned around to look down at the ground to his his little friend wrapped in a blanket.

“Hey, what’s up?” He smiled happily. He wanted to scoop up the borrower, but ranboo had said he doesn’t like being touched. But Tubbo thought otherwise with how Ranboo leaned into him anytime he did pick up the borrower.

“Not a lot.” Ranboo said walking closer.

“I’m just doing homework if you want to sit on the desk while I work?” He asked.

“Yeah. That works.” Ranboo nodded.

“Want a ride?” Tubbo hesitantly offered his hand to Ranboo.

Ranboo was going to say no but, he could feel the warmth comes off his hand. Maybe he could get a ride just this once. “Ok.” He nodded stepping onto Tubbo’s hand.

Tubbo was pleasantly surprised when ranboo stepped into his hand. He couldn’t help but notice how chilly Ranboo was though. He picked up and set back in this chair. He didn’t want to set down Ranboo with how cold he was.

“Umm… Tubbo?” Ranboo asked when he wasn’t set down like he thought he would be.

“Why are you so cold?” Tubbo asked getting to the point.

“W-what?” Ranboo stuttered. He shook his head. “No, I’m not cold.” He tried to hide his shivers.

“I can feel how cold you are. And you’re shivering….” Tubbo frowned.

“I- I guess it’s a little chilly…” Ranboo shrugged trying to play it off. “You don’t have to worry about me though.” He smiled.

“But I am worried, why wouldn’t I be worried about you?” Tubbo questioned.

“Because…..” Ranboo trailed off. They where friends why shouldn’t Tubbo worry? Is that what friends where supposed to do?

Tubbo frowned softly. “You ok boss man?” He asked gently bringing him closer to be held.

“I- I don’t know…. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. I probably already take up to much for your time…”

“Take up my time?” Tubbo shook his head. “No, that’s-” he shook his head. Is that really how Ranboo feels? “You could never take up my time Boo, I love spending time with you.”

Ranboo paused looking up at Tubbo. “Really? I’m annoying and useless though…” He mumbled.

“What?! Who told you that?” Tubbo curled up his fingers at the idea of someone saying such hurtful and untrue things to his friend.

“My colony, the other borrowers I lived with. I was different and I couldn’t borrow the right way…. So I was useless.” He said like it was a fact.

“You are not useless Ranboo….” He said sadly gently using a finger to pet Ranboo’s head. “And whatever else those people said to you, it isn’t true.”

Ranboo crumbled as Tubbo put a finger on his head. The soft pressure and warmth made him melt. He looked down at his hands realizing Tubbo really and truly cared about him. That fact made him start sobbing. But for once, it was happy tears.

Tubbo panicked as Ranboo began to cry. Had he hurt him?! “Boo?” He softly asked holding him closer to his face. He jumped a little as Ranboo latched onto his face giving him a hug. He gladly cupped his hands over his back hugging him back. He used his thumb to rub Ranboo’s back as he sobbed.

“It’s ok, I got you now. Your ok.” He mumbled softly trying to comfort his smaller friend.

Ranboo hugged Tubbo tight. He had needed this so bad. A hug, someone to talk to, and a real friend. He slowly calmed down. He pulled away from Tubbo. “S-sorry…” He mumbled.

“You don’t have to apologize.” Tubbo said.

“Oh….” Ranboo blinked looking at Tubbo. He almost said sorry again.

“It’s ok.” He smiled still holding Ranboo close.

Ranboo sighed leaning back in Tubbo hand. He let himself curl up enjoying the warmth.

“You are still cold though.” He curled his fingers around Ranboo.

“Better then before.” He replied.

“I still need to get you warmer Boo.” He shook his head. He hummed thinking of a easy way to keep him warm.

Ranboo didn’t want to be alone right now. And he just wanted comfort and warmth from Tubbo. He frowned getting a idea. Would Tubbo even be ok with that?

“You got a idea?” Tubbo asked seeing the look on Ranboo’s face.

“Kinda? I don’t know if it’s a good one though.” He shrugged.

“Well, what is it?” Tubbo asked.

“Um… you remember how you hide me from your dad that one time?” He said hoping Tubbo would catch on.

Tubbo froze realizing what Ranboo was suggesting. “Are you sure about that? You where so scared before.”

“I was scared because you just ate me. But now I know it’s safe and I trust you.” He smiled softly.

“Aw, you trust me that much?” Tubbo grinned. He was glad Ranboo wasn’t scared of the idea anymore.

“I do.” He giggled. “Plus it’s warm and I’ll be able to rest while you work.”

“True…” Tubbo nodded. “So you really want to do this?”

“Yeah I do.” He said making his decision.

“Ok, just tell me if you want out at any point.” Tubbo said before carefully placing Ranboo in his mouth closing his teeth behind him with a click.

Being gentle placed in was definitely better then how he was shoved in before. He smiled feeling the warmth from Tubbo. He was so focused on the warmth he didn’t panic like he thought he would.

Tubbo gently licked over Ranboo feeling just how cold the little borrower had been. It was like sucking on a ice cube. He slowly tilted his head back and swallowed Ranboo.

Ranboo froze as gravity shifted and he slipped back into Tubbo’s throat. He struggled a little but forced himself to be still not wanting to hurt Tubbo. He soon slipped into Tubbo’s stomach. He went completely limp at the feeling. He was surrounded by soft muscle gently hugging him as he leaned back. It was a amazing feeling.

Tubbo sighed as he felt Ranboo slip into his stomach. He pressed a hand to where he was. “You ok?” He asked making sure Ranboo was alright.

“Yeah….I’m ok.” He replied. He was getting sleepy from being so cozy. He hadn’t been able to really feel what it was like in here before, he had passed out from his panic. But now he was calm and finally warm.

“Ok, just making sure. I’m going to keep working. Let me know when you want out.” He really hoped Ranboo would want to stay for a while. He liked having him so close and safe.

“Mmhmm…” He hummed snuggling against Tubbo more. He didn’t have to worry about anything in here. He could just sleep and not wake up worrying about bugs or the cold. He was safe. With that thought he finally was able to sleep.

Tubbo continued to do his homework and smiled softly feeling Ranboo get comfortable. His small weight got heavier as he fell asleep tucked away deep inside where he could keep his friend safe. Tubbo hoped they would do this more now.

[jaskierswolf]

No Regrets

A noble!Jaskier A/B/O arranged marriage fic for @greyduckgreygoose as part of a server exchange. - AO3

Ship: Jaskier x Aiden

Rating: E

Length: 2.8k

CW: Smut, Alpha Aiden/Omega Jask, scent kink, fingering, oral sex, penetrative sex, knotting, mating bites

_

If there was one thing in life that Jaskier regretted, it was that he was a noble. Without the ties of his blood, being an omega wouldn’t be so bad. He could have chosen his own alpha, been happily mated if he wished, or stayed free and wild as he roamed the Continent to his heart’s desire. As a child he’d declared that he would be a travelling bard or a merchent, renouncing all claim to the stupid title that now bound his dear sister to the estate. He’d dreamed of his life as a barker to some witcher or other adventurer, strumming tunes on his lute and spreading his music all across the Continent.

A pipe dream.

Jaskier didn’t even regret being an omega. It was actually quite thrilling, the sex was easier with the slick he produced and the desperation his heats brought was really quite incomparable. There was nothing quite like getting fucked within an inch of his life and knotted by some strapping alpha, lost in orgasm after orgasm until he quite literally passed out.

He knew the real thief of his freedom was his blood, his nobility, his dear old parents caught in their archaic ways. Only, now he was to be married to some mysterious alpha that had saved his father’s life a few weeks ago and Jaskier was kicking up a fuss, purposely not looking his best for the wedding. His neck was littered with hickies from a rather lovely beta he’d fucked the night before, but when the alpha, his alpha, walked into the room, Jaskier regretted every decision he’d made that morning.

The bastard was handsome, unbelievably so, and he was wild. Jaskier had been expecting some stuck up noble alpha that only cared about the pups Jaskier could provide, but, oh, ho, ho, gods, this man was a work of art! Long dark hair was pulled back into a messy half updo, long waves falling down past his shoulders. He had tanned skin, covered in scars, from what Jaskier could see, a particularly nasty one striking along his left eye and cutting into his cheek, but gods, those eyes… startling gold like the sweetest honey. Most interesting were his clothes, pretty dark blue garments that Jaskier could have sworn were armoured, and a hood resting on his shoulders. He seemed to be unarmed but something in Jaskier’s gut told him that the man was still dangerous, and that thought had him pressing his thighs together as he felt another rush of slick escape him.

The alpha’s nostrils flared and those gorgeous molten eyes met his from across the room. Jaskier felt as though he had been hit by lightning as he basked in the heat of his alpha’s stare. From beside him, Jaskier heard his mother gasp, the bitter scent of her anger clouding the air, but it was far too late for mother dearest to back out now.

Jaskier was going to marry a witcher!

Maybe his plans of travelling the Continent hadn’t been so far fetched after all. Destiny had truly blessed him on this day, he would be free from the society he hated so much, travelling by this fine specimen’s side until death.

Oh, ho, ho!

He was thrilled.

The alpha didn’t seem too displeased either as he winked at Jaskier from across the room, his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. The man bowed deeply to Jaskier’s parents but there was something in his manner that made Jaskier laugh. There was nothing sincere in his greeting, and the Viscount of Lettenhove knew this, that much was clear from the sneer on his face, the nasty curl of his lips.

And oh didn’t that make Jaskier’s victory all the sweeter. He wondered what the alpha had done or said to convince his old man to give up his only son, and a precious omega to boot. Jaskier supposed a life debt was hard to argue against.

The witcher seemed like a bit of a cad, all flirty winks and mockery of nobility that made Jaskier swoon, his knees buckling a little underneath him under the heavy musk of the alpha’s scent. Slick soaked through his underclothes and he wriggled uncomfortably, his hands itching to slip beneath his breeches and tease at his cock, his hole, anything that could relieve him of the aching arousal in his gut. The alpha let out a wave of pheromones, calming Jaskier’s mind and subduing him. Even his poor mother seemed to relax beside him, but the strong scent of alpha, had his father growling low in his chest. The deluded fool, as if he could take on a witcher, although he probably knew he couldn’t and that was the only reason Jaskier was allowed to marry this god of a man.

“You came,” Lord Alfred of Lettenhove hissed through gritted teeth.

To Jaskier’s surprise, the alpha just laughed, one hand resting on his hips. “I told you I would. I don’t lie, human.”

“Not my son, Alfred, please. You can’t give my son to a witcher!” Jaskier’s mother begged, falling to her knees in front of her husband. “Anyone but a witcher, I’ll even agree to that lass from Nilfgaard, please, alpha.”

It was a pitiful display, one Jaskier hadn’t expected from his mother, but one that truly showed her desperation. Jaskier almost felt sorry for her…

Almost.

“What’s done is done, mother, now please, introduce me to my new husband!” Jaskier trilled happily, subconsciously baring his neck to the stranger that he was about to bind himself to, eyeing up the cat head on the silver chain around the witcher’s neck.

He’d heard rumours about those witchers; feral, insane… assassins.

Gods, Jaskier was weak.

He always had liked an alpha that could tear him in two, but it was rarer than it should have been. Jaskier was not a timid and fragile omega, in fact most people that met him confused him for a beta at first. He had a less sweet and floral scent than most omegas, and his chest was covered in thick dark hair that was almost unheard of even in male omegas, but he liked to feel small and dainty once in a while.

“Julian, I presume,” the witcher greeted, reaching out his hand which Jaskier gladly took, his heart fluttering as his alpha kissed his fingers with a surprising amount of grace. Heat prickled over his skin, as their eyes met, and that thick scent of alpha arousal almost had Jaskier on his knees, ready to worship this man’s cock in front of the entire household.

As it was he was barely able to suppress a moan, as the alpha brought Jaskier’s wrist to his neck, pressing it against the scent gland, making Jaskier whine softly at the gentle waves of pleasure that rolled over him. Fuck, the bastard was going to trigger his heat two weeks early at this rate. He bit his lip as he let his gaze roam over the Alpha’s body, hot and heavy.

“My friends call me Jaskier,” he shot back with a wink.

“And what about your husband?”

Jaskier smirked, “Darling, you can call me whatever you like.”

“Julian, you’re being indecent!” his mother snapped, scandalised in a manner that only nobility could manage.

Jaskier scoffed, “I am talking to my future husband, the man that daddy dearest picked out for me. Although,” Jaskier smirked as he turned to face the witcher, “he has been terribly rude and not even told me his name.”

“Darling, you can call me whatever you like,” the alpha winked and Jaskier gasped, stumbling back in mock offence, “but my name is Aiden.”

After that, the wedding went off without a hitch, all the necessary paperwork being completed, as their hands were tied together. It was sealed by a rather enthusiastic kiss as Jaskier jumped into his alpha’s arms, crashing his lips against his new husband’s in a mess of teeth and tongues, finally getting to inhale the alpha’s scent from up close.

His alpha.

His husband.

Jaskier had never anticipated that he would enjoy even thinking those words, but the look of despair on his parents’ faces made everything worth it. He giggled, taking his new husband by the hand and leading him to his bedchambers, thrilled by the protests from his parents who were trying to stop him from consummating the marriage, but there was no fucking way that Jaskier was going to turn down such a tempting cornucopia of delights.

“Eager, pretty little omega, aren’t you?” Aiden growled, a purr rumbling in his chest as he grazed his teeth over the scent gland on Jaskier’s neck, sending a rush of pleasure through him, slick leaking down his thighs.

“Not what you were expecting, witcher?” Jaskier teased, pulling at the ties on Aiden’s trousers.

“Not some stuck up little prick,” Aiden hummed, groping Jaskier’s arse as he pushed down Jaskier’s breeches, leaving him in just a shirt. One hand moved to run through Jaskier’s chest hair, fingers pinching at his nipples, eliciting a moan from his lips that was better suited to a whore house. “Not exactly the fragile flower you claim to be either, omega.”

“Not as easy to break, alpha,” Jaskier hummed as Aiden’s lips nipped along his neck, teeth pulling at his ear.

His scent, fuck, his scent was almost overpowering, strong, rich, sending all of Jaskier’s reason out of the window to be replaced with the desire to be fucked, knotted, mated. A now familiar tug of pre-heat clouded his mind, his cock aching, his hole empty and wanting. With a soft sigh, he ran his fingers through his own slick before pushing them inside, not nearly enough, but it took the edge off as he rocked against his own hand, pressing his body flush against his alpha’s.

He smirked as he mouthed over Aiden’s scent gland, his husband shivering under his touch. He brought his slick covered hand up to Aiden’s lips and the alpha sucked at the digits with a needy moan, his grip on Jaskier’s waist almost bruising. “Now are you going to talk all day, or are you going to fuck me? It’s been far too long since I’ve had the pleasure of an alpha’s knot.”

Jaskier’s words made something snap in Aiden, a fearsome snarl tearing from the alpha’s throat, and Jaskier was thrown onto the bed, barely able to catch his breath before Aiden’s hands were on him, calloused fingers running through the mess of slick on his thighs before pressing inside his leaking hole. Aiden’s fingers were thicker than Jaskier’s, caressing, searching, stroking until he hit that sweet spot inside of Jaskier, making him keen.

“Mine,” Aiden growled.

Jaskier moaned, bucking up off the mattress, pushing back on Aiden’s hand. “Yours, alpha, my alpha.”

Any other words Jaskier might have said were muffled by a bruising kiss, Aiden’s tongue licking into his mouth fervently. Oh and it was blissful, the alpha’s fingers fucking him so beautifully, until he was a panting mess on the bed, sweat and slick sticking to his skin. The fog of heat ruined him, turning him into nothing more than a whore, begging to be filled, knotted, claimed, and Jaskier barely recognised his own voice, hoarse, wrecked, as he cursed, and pleaded with his alpha. His fingers scraped down Aiden’s back as he thrust against his alpha’s hand, trying to get more, more, more, but Aiden had the patience rivaling the priestesses of Melitele.

Aiden pulled his fingers out, leaving Jaskier feeling so achingly empty, pitiful cries resounding in the bedchamber, howling as he was denied everything he needed.

“Fucking bastard!” he slurred, as his building pleasure eased, leaving him wanting.

“Patience, omega,” Aiden hummed, kissing the corner of Jaskier’s mouth before trailing his lips down Jaskier’s chest, sucking and nibbling at each of his nipples as he passed them, chuckling at the needy sounds Jaskier was making. He pressed soft kisses to Jaskier’s belly, nuzzling at the curve of his stomach almost reverently until Jaskier huffed, threading his fingers through his alpha’s hair and pushing his head down further. Finally, Jaskier was rewarded with his alpha’s lips around his cock, hot and wet and oh so good.

Jaskier didn’t know many alpha’s who would suck their omega’s cock, but this gorgeous stranger, seemed more than content to get lost in Jaskier’s pleasure, purring around Jaskier’s cock as if he were the most beautiful thing in the world. His fingers gripped at Jaskier’s thighs, keeping them spread as his tongue flicked over the head, lapping up the pre-cum that was leaking from the tip.

But omegas were meant to be filled, and as much as he was enjoying the heat of Aiden’s mouth around him, it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t cum like this, not whilst he was feeling so fucking empty, and gods, he needed to cum, he needed it so much he could barely think of anything else. He whined, writhing underneath Aiden’s ministrations desperate for something else, something more.

“Alpha, I need- I need,” he whimpered, his words cut off by another moan as Aiden’s tongue delved inside him, the alpha moaning into him as he tasted sweet omega slick.

The bastard had the audacity to laugh, nuzzling against Jaskier’s thigh as his lips pressed against the soft tender skin. “What do you need, little omega?” he asked before biting at the skin beneath his lips. There was a sharp pain, the alpha’s fangs not quite breaking skin but enough to hurt in the best possible way.

“F-fuck you!” Jaskier hissed, his cheeks heating up but gods, he would not let his alpha gain the upper hand.

Faster than lightning, Aiden was gone from between Jaskier’s leg, straddling Jaskier’s hips and pinning him to the bed. Fingers threaded through Jaskier’s hair and his head was yanked backwards. “Try again, buttercup.”

“Fuck me, knot me, Aiden, alpha.”

“Better,” Aiden growled, one hand moving to pin Jaskier’s wrists onto the mattress and in one swift movement had pushed inside Jaskier.

The stretch felt so good, pleasure and lustful fire burning through him, as he arched off the bed, keening as their scents mixed around him, soothing his omega, his need to get as close to his alpha as possible. Every thrust had Aiden’s cock buried deep inside him, filling him up until he could see a slight bulge on his stomach, the alpha hitting Jaskier’s sweet spot with every snap of his hips, until Jaskier was crying, tears streaming down his face as he begged for release. His alpha’s hand wrapped around his cock, tiny in comparison, pulling his orgasm from him with a start, sparks flying as he gasped, panting into Aiden’s shoulder, biting down gently as his alpha fucked him through the waves of pleasure, but it still wasn’t enough. He ground back against Aiden’s cock, sounding desperately needy, pathetic. In his heat hazed mind, he wondered how many times he could cum on his alpha’s cock. He wanted that, wanted to please his husband, his alpha, his Aiden. Jaskier would be the prettiest omega, filled with his alpha’s cum. No one would mistake Jaskier as belonging to anyone else. He was Aiden’s now, and there was nothing anyone in the world could do about it.

“Alpha,” he whined, “please. Your knot, I need it, please, fuck… gods, alpha!”

Aiden purred, a deep rumbling in his chest, pressing his lips against Jaskier’s scent gland and nuzzling into his neck until Jaskier melted against his chest, fingers digging into his Alpha’s back. Despite his orgasm, he felt more aroused than he had ever been before, a mantra of alpha, fuck, please, falling from his lips in a dizzying blur, until finally, he felt the press of Aiden’s knot teasing at his rim.

“Gods, yes,” Jaskier moaned. “Knot me, fuck, please, Alpha.”

“My omega.”

“Yours,” Jaskier agreed, “my alpha.”

Aiden growled, his fangs latching onto Jaskier’s neck, turning Jaskier’s world upside down as the mating bond snapped into place in a rush of pheromones and emotions, triggering Jaskier’s orgasm from out of the blue. One moment he’d been blissfully sated on his alpha’s cock, the next pleasure tore through him like lightning, cum spilling over his stomach for a second time as Aiden pumped him full, breeding him, the knot popping into place and tying them together.

“Oh- oh fuck,” Jaskier groaned, falling back against the mattress and Aiden collapsed on top of him, still rolling his hips in shallow thrusts to push the knot deeper inside. “Bloody hell, that was good.”

Aiden snorted, not bothering to lift his head from Jaskier’s chest. “Good?”

“Perfect,” Jaskier sighed, running his hands through Aiden’s hair until the witcher was purring happily, nuzzling against him, murmuring soft praise into Jaskier’s skin.

Perhaps being a noble wasn’t so bad, not when your parents married you off to a gorgeous and charming witcher.

_

Taglist: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @unyielding-as-the-sea @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

My friend is a big fan of you as well and asked me to request this:

A Janus fic based on the song Monster by Dev https://youtu.be/5iA_oFDNt9E

I think the song could fit him quite well, maybe with the others being like “out of all of us, h i m???”

-🦑

Songfic?? With Janus angst?? My time has come *ascends*

CW: Unsympathetic Light Sides (they're not assholes but they're basically unsupportive, concerned for Reader, and hateful/distrustful of Janus)

...........

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

"What?!! [Y/n] this..this cannot possibly be true!"

"Roman-"

"You could've had any one of the fine gentlemen here...but more importantly me.."

"Roman, just calm-"

"And yet you chose him?! That wretched slimy snake?!" The princely Side pointed rudely at Janus, who was just sitting on the couch beside you. He frowned as he fiddled with the chain of his capelet, finding more interest in that than the uncomfortable conversation currently taking place.

This wasn't even the direction you nor him expected it to take. It was already going south..straight towards hell.

All because Remus couldn't keep his mouth shut and blurted out the revelation that you and Janus were dating.

Ironically, he was the one who confessed to you first--something that you're certain no Side would ever believe.

"There's got to be something wrong with your head." Roman shook his head in dismay, before approaching you. "Come now. We'll find you a true Prince Charming! One that's not a vile fibber like-"

Suddenly you sprang up, moving away from him. "You don't get to choose who I fall in love with. Remus.." You glared at the dark half of creativity. "I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't leave right now."

"Do ya promise~?" He giggled, refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. "You know I'm into that."

"Let it go, [y/n]." Janus tried to assure you. "They're both bumbling fools."

"A fool?!" Roman gasped. "The only fool here is YOU!! Trying to tempt them with your false promises of love and affection! What do you know about romance?!"

"Apparently more than you." You interrupted, standing by your lover in a defensive manner. "I know this isn't exactly how I planned to tell you but god just calm down for a minute."

You definitely didn't anticipate this kind of freakout from him. You thought he'd be asking about the how's and when's of falling in love, as one would expect from the "romantic expert" of the Sides.

You had a plan to tell all of them individually, but..starting with the guy who was deceived most and openly mocked his name probably wasn't a good idea.

Eventually the two halves of creativity left you both alone. And only then did you sit back down next to the now-dejected Janus, holding his hand. "Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Oh don't worry, it'sss new to me." He muttered, squeezing your hand in turn. "I'm sure Roman will have a tough time realizing he's definitely the most handsome one around here." The smirk he gave made you chuckle.

"Yeah, well..he'll get over it. We got off on the wrong foot with him, but I'm sure the others will be more accepting."

He's a monster He's a monster That boy, he's a motherfucking monster But I love him, yeah I love him Ooh ah, ooh ah ah

"Seriously? That guy?"

"Just hear me out, Virgil-"

"Oh I've heard plenty. I'm just warning you that it's a bad idea." Virgil huffed as he put his phone down. "He's a monster who's gonna use you for some selfish gain. You've seen it. He only cares about himself and hurts people to keep it that way."

"I know you've known him longest but...I'm pretty sure at this point he's moved past all of that." You pointed out. "Honestly, the only one being hurt here is him. First Roman, and now you?"

Despite your arguments, he just didn't seem convinced. "I'm not doing this to give you anxiety...I can only do that to Thomas. And I'm not gonna say "breakup with him right now". I'm just telling you that he's not what he seems."

"I appreciate your worries, but I love him and that's that." You insisted, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood defiant. Obviously it was in his nature to tell you to stay cautious, and he'd probably say the same if you were dating anyone else.

But calling Janus a monster seemed awfully harsh. You haven't even heard him call Remus that, which was odd.

'Seriously why is he being such a prick?'

"..whatever you say." Virgil shrugged before sinking out, leaving you alone by the staircase.

"I wouldn't worry. His opinion of me has never changed."

You realized Janus was eavesdropping and turned to face him, sighing. "Jan, are you doing something that's making them be so... brutally honest? This just seems unusual for them."

"Not that I'm aware of." He had briefly removed his glove, indicating he was tell you the truth.

"Hm..then again, Roman and Virgil are sorta the least-rational ones. One's jealous that he doesn't have a date and the other overthinks a lot."

"Wonderful observations, my dear."

"Patton and Logan are more down-to-earth and clear-headed so they might have more understanding."

"I'm sure they will." Janus' tone didn't match the optimistic words he uttered as he slipped the glove back on. "Oh and..I'll try not eavesdrop anymore."

Little did you know, that would be two lies.

Most people are scared When they look him in the eyes, all they see is fear (but) Let me make this clear I want him near

"How can you look into his eyes and..and.."

"Go on."

"And not be scared?! I know I would be, kiddo."

"...Patton, is that seriously your only argument? That he looks creepy?"

"No, no! I just..." For a moment the fatherly Side paused, before he sighed and patted your shoulder. "Listen, I do think you're being a good influence on that wriggly snake but...I only worry he's being a bad influence on you. Every time he's near you I-"

"It sounds like your only argument is "he's a creepy crawly snake so I shouldn't trust or love him". Is that all?"

"It's...a bit more complicated than-"

"It's a yes or no, Pat."

"...I'm trying to look at the bigger picture and, sure there's some good in him but..I worry he's gonna hurt you in the end, that's all. Like he hurt us several times by impersonating us." He tried to reason, but you just brushed his hand off your shoulder in disbelief.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd be one to judge books by their covers." You frowned slightly. "Well let me make this clear: I want him near me. I feel safe around him. I love him, outward appearances and all. So if you can't accept the way I see him then...we're done here."

With no more defenses, Patton sank out as you left the room. But in the hallway you spotted a familiar capelet vanish around the corner, and you found Janus, who manifested a brown eye contact over his snake eye. His scales almost vanished under his skin, but you called out to him before they could disappear entirely.

"Janus? I thought you weren't going to-"

"I..n-never expected Patton of all people to say that.." He held the side of his face shakily, keeping his head lowered so you didn't see the gradually forming tears. Only now he was starting to feel the impact of everyone's words. "If..it's my looks then...I can surely make adjusssstments.."

"No, sweetheart. You don't have to change your looks or be anyone else for me." You cupped a hand over the one that still covered the scales. "C'mon. You can't seriously believe Patton's dumb reasoning, right?"

"........."

All you got was a silent nod.

Most people can't sleep Feeling he's out, on the streets (but) He is my creep He is my creep

"While I see your relationship to Janus is beneficial-"

"Actually, nevermind. You're just gonna tell me the same shit everyone else did."

"...now [y/n], remember what we've discussed on cognitive distortions-"

"Jumping to conclusions? Overgeneralizing? I know. But I have valid reasons for those. You all think Janus is gonna hurt me because he's some "freaky selfish snake". But he's not, alright? He's been more truthful with me lately and I'm sick of the others not believing anything we say. So please, Logan..can you take my side for once?"

Logan was surprised by your outburst. He didn't even know you've talked to the others about Janus and assumed he'd respond in a similar fashion.

But he adjusted his glasses and looked at his notebook, all traces of emotion vanishing. "Logic can't take sides. If you would just listen..I've observed that your interactions with him have been generally positive, and that's helped Thomas-"

"There you go again..why does everything always gotta lead back to Thomas? Can't you just recognize Janus as his own person without assuming I'm only dating him to help-?"

"Because he can't be distracted from his core function!!"

You jumped a bit as he slammed down the notebook, scowling at you with a slight orange tinge behind his glasses. Though it was quick to disappear as he sighed. "He can never be his own person. You two will never have a truly normal relationship. I only advise that you keep that in the back of your mind."

And just like that, he left.

Every discussion you've had with a "Light" Side only left the bitter taste of frustration in your mouth...

Now what should you-?

You were startled again as you heard a nearby door slam shut, before realizing who overheard this conversation.

"Shit."

Is he human, does it matter I know he's what I'm after I can reel him, from disaster I know

"So..th-that's how they all see me, huh? A monster..n-not even a person."

"Jan.." Joining your boyfriend on the king-sized mattress, decorated in black and gold much like himself, you could finally see those walls he built up now crumbling to pieces.

One way or another, he heard what every Side had to say about him. And it was more than enough for him to realize they not only shun him for simply existing..

But they refuse to accept the idea that he's worthy of love, too. He can take the name-calling and insults in the videos, but this is what truly broke him.

He just scratched at his scales, his human eye already red and raw from crying as he wondered why you went through all of this just for him.

Any sane person would listen to the others and just breakup with him. He wasn't worth the effort.

You clearly deserved better.

You deserved someone who's more handsome, chill, kindhearted, or sensible-

"I know you can't truly be human but..does it matter?"

"...does it?" He sniffled, leaning into your touch more as you ran a hand through his hair. "Because apparently not. I know I'm not a perfect, flawless individual..I-I don't expect any of us to be. But if only I-I never-"

"Jan..you can't focus on what you can't change. I know you feel guilty, and if the others can't see that...it's their own fault. I won't stop fighting for us and for your happiness. I love you, okay?" Turning to him fully, you cupped both sides of his face and looked into his eyes.

"And in case you think I'm lying, I'll say it again: I. Love. You. None of their words will change that."

Hearing you become so determined to love him despite all odds made him sob again, this time from relief, as you put your arms around him.

Nobody's ever taken his side on anything...and certainly never defended him the way you did.

You felt several extra arms manifest to hug you back, and you smiled, closing your eyes.

Maybe in time the others will understand. But while it's true he looked like a monster and had his deceitful ways..

You knew what you were after.

And so did he.

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

[rosy-cheekx]

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling. 

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

--

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

--

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

[unlikelymilkshakedream]

A/n: Hello! Here is part 3 for the Charlie Weasley fic I promised. Sorry this took so long. I promised angst, so I'm giving it. Hope you enjoy!

Another day, another exam, or so it seemed that way at Hogwarts. As May came to a close, and June starts, your O.W.L.s were giving you more stress than you had ever felt. Your future was on the line if you didn't do well with your exams.

Not only were your exams crushing you, your relationship had been rocky for a couple of months. After the valentines day dance with your date, Charlie Weasley, nothing could have made your life better. You were dating your best friend, all of your friends supported you, and you had no tests coming up. In other words, very different from your life currently.

You were still technically dating your best friend, but from long classes and homework that came with them, to Charlie's quiditch practices lasting forever in hopes of winning the house cup, you hadn't had time to spend a moment alone together in what felt like years.

Your friends would always be there for you and you knew that, you cared about them with your whole heart and knew they felt the same way, but they had their own exams and futures just as you did. You would never ask them for anything because you didn't want to be a burden.

And of course, your exams. Your dreams of becoming a curse breaker were very important to you. You wanted nothing more than to help people, on top of finding your brother and protecting hogwarts. You were a natural curse breaker so it only makes sense that you would pursue your passion. However, if you wanted to do that, you needed to not only pass your exams, but exceed the expectations.

With that responsibility came nights on end in the library, studying, preparing and hoping that it would all work out. Your exams, finding your brother, hell, even your relationship with Charlie. You knew how rocky it was and you were devastated by that, but you knew if you two truly wanted to, it would work out, or so you hoped.

So, another night in the library, was your fate. You wanted to be with Charlie, but you knew he had quiditch practice, and you had a potions exam in the morning that you weren't ready for. As you flipped through your book, trying to soak up as much information as you could, you didn't notice a certain redhead sneak behind you.

"Hey baby," you felt the hot breathe on your neck and jumped more than out of your skin.

"Blimey Charlie, you scared me." He chuckled as he pulled a chair beside you.

"Sorry, I just wanted to see you after practice, and I haven't seen you all weekend." He smiled at you, which you couldn't help but smile back.

"I know, its just tomorrow starts like the most stressful week of the year. If I don't do well on my exams, my future can be forgotten. Speaking of, I am not ready for potions tomorrow, hence why I'm here." You smiled as you looked back towards your book.

"Hey, you're gonna do great on your exam because you are great, and smart, and beautiful," Charlie said as you rolled your eyes and laughed. "Its just we haven't seen each other in a while, thought i could keep you company." You sighed.

"Look, I know we haven't been the most talkative lately, but what exactly do you want me to say, you know how important this is to me." He put his hand on yours.

"I know, I get it baby, I do, and after this week, we're gonna celebrate." He said with the biggest grin on his face. Suddenly, Madame Pince came around the corner with the dirtiest look on her face.

"Shh!" You smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry Madam-"

"Shh!!!" You sighed as she walked away. You turned back to charlie.

"You better go, I have to study and don't wanna get kicked out." You smiled at him.

"Okay, but I meant what I said about celebrating." He smiled hugley. You returned the smile, only a fraction of what he had given you. That made his smile falter and eventually he turned and walked back to his dorm.

Eventually you had to except the time as 11pm rolled around and Madam Pince kicked you out of the library. You took the book along with all your other stuff and headed towards your common room.

Once you were in, you sat down near the fireplace and opened your potions book once again, flipping to the section about dragon livers and how they were hard to get.

Eventually, you heard the clock strike 2am and had to call it a night. As you closed your booka nd sat back, looking into the fire, you thought of your life as a cursebreaker, how great it would be, how much you wanted to do it, and what you were willing to do to achieve that goal.

As you stood up and headed towards the stairwell, your way was blocked by charlie, the last person you expected to see, especially at this hour.

"Hey, what're you doing up?" Charlie asked groggy.

"I could ask you the same thing. I was just going to bed." You said as you pushed past him and climbed the stairs. He followed you up.

"I thought you'd be up, I was just checking on you." You turned around as you got to the last step before your dorm and smiled.

"Thats sweet, but go back to bed. Goodnight." You leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, then headed into your dorm, falling on your bed and instantly falling asleep.

The next morning, you woke at around 8. Shit. You were late. You quickly got up and dressed faster than ever and ran to the dungeons. You mad either to class just in time, not eating or anything.

"Well, well, Ms. Brooks, you have decided to grace us with your presence, how considerate." Snape sneered at you as you walked to your seat beside Rowan, breathing heavily, across the room, you saw Charlie looking worriedly at you, which was the last thing you wanted in that moment.

Once your potion exam was finished, you walked out of the room, feeling exhausted and like you failed. You started walking to your next exam, which was charms, the easiest of your exams. Soon enough a certain redhead caught up with you.

"Hey, y/n, why were you late today?" You turned to him.

"I over slept, which I dont do, so I didn't realize at which point I had to sprint to make it, which I didnt." You sighed tired lying. "Why?"

"Just wondering, I missed you at breakfast. Did you eat anything?" You smiled softly.

"No, I haven't but its fine, look i have to go to charms and I really don't wanna be late again, see you." Without another word from either of you, you walked away to charms.

At charms, you felt most confident of all classes, which honestly wasn't saying a lot. You finished your exam pretty easily and walked to the great hall, intending on studying until your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam in an hour. Once the clock struck the time to take your next exam, you left the great hall.

Once you reached DADA, you walked in with Tulip and took your seat. You should feel bad, but you just were so glad charlie wasn't there, staring at you like a sorry case. He meant well and you knew it but you just wanted space.

As you finished your final exam of the day, you headed to the library, studying for transfigurations next. When you reached the library, unfortunately you fell into the same pattern as the previous night, except this time no charlie.

When the clock struck midnight, you went to the dorm room and headed straight for bed, not bothering to study anymore. Once your head hit the pillow, you were out.

When you woke up the next morning, the sun was shining into your window nicely. It was a good way to wake up honestly. You say up and saw Rowan asleep. You figured you had a few minutes before breakfast so you got up and got dressed.

You and Rowan walked to breakfast while revising your transfiguration knowledge. You didn't feel as bad about it as potions but you also didn't feel as great about it as charms. Walking into the great hall, you found Charlie sitting with his younger brothers. You knew you had to go sit with him.

"Hey y/n, how'd you sleep?" Charlie asked as he saw you sit next to him and his brothers giggled at him, to which he sent a dirty look.

"Um, not the best but ye know. Its whatever." As you sat down you ate the blandest breakfast ever, granola and coffee, it would just have to do for today.

"Are you guys ready for the big game tomorrow night?" Fred asked the table. You looked at him with a confused expression whereas everyone else seemed to understand.

"What game fred?" He turned to you.

"Uh, the house cup game, we are so gonna kick hufflepuffs ass." Ah.

"Right, good luck." Charlie turned to you.

"You'll come right love? What me win?" You smiled as you sipped your coffee.

"Uh yeah, maybe, I might have to study for History of magic but we'll see." Charlie stopped.

"Y/n, you can't miss the game, its only the biggest game of the year. Please come." Ugh when he gave you those puppy dog eyes, you knew you were done for.

"Okay, yes I will go, of course I will." You smiled and kissed his cheek.

As breakfast finished and you and Rowan made your way to transfiguration, you felt confident in the upcoming essay. Going over info with Rowan definitely helped.

Once you were finished with the exam, you went to the great hall, being assigned twenty five inches of parchment for the second half of the exam was not ideal. You were stressed out, but at least you only had care of magical creatures left for the day, something you were sure you'd excel in thanks to charlie.

As you walked down the grounds for your exam, you felt very confident that you'd do well. Your confidence was correctly placed as you walked to the common room to start on you parchment for transfiguration, doing very well on your exam in care of magical creatures.

The real problems didn't start until the following day, charlies big game was today and you hadn't made a dent in your parchment, due to not being able to focus and eventually falling asleep far earlier than you would have liked. Today you had exams in astronomy, history of magic and a regular potions class. You were extremely busy today, it didn't help you woke up 20 minutes before your exam in astronomy so you had to sprint once again to be on time.

Once you were seated in astronomy, your exam begun and you didnt feel very confident. You gave it your all and after about 75 minutes, you were done. You walked out and saw your boyfriend charlie who lit up when he saw you. You walked over to him with a small smile on your face.

"Hey babe, whats up?" You asked him.

"Not much now that your hear, just nervous for later." You looked at his smiling face confused.

"Later?" His smile dropped. You had forgotten about the quitditch match.

"The match that determines who wins the house cup? I thought you were coming, its really important to me." Shit. Right, yeah of course you would go.

"Right, of course I will be there, sorry I'm just tired you know how it is. I will be there, but right now I have to go to potions, ill see you later." Damn, how had you forgotten?

Potions seemed to last forever as Snape lectured on Beatle brains, you swore you were going to die of boredom, all you wanted to do was study for history of magic.

When class was finally dismissed, you headed straight for the library, not having your final exam for an hour and a half. When you sat down in the library, you immediately fell into studying, the time slipping by quickly until it was time to go to your exam.

Arriving to your exam, you set your things down and got ready for it, feeling confident as you had spent a lot of time studying for this. You finished your exam in 65 minutes and headed to the great hall, feeling hungry.

When you got to the great hall and saw what was happening inside, all hunger left your body.

Shit.

Inside, Gryffindor students were celebrating the win of the house cup, you had forgotten the game. You walked in to the great hall and saw Charlie, held up by his teammates above everyone like a king. You smiled at how happy he looked, but when he saw you, its like every drop of happiness was taken from him and you felt your heart break.

Charlie told his team mates to let him down which they did as he made his way over to you, looking hurt and disappointed. You couldn't do much besides stand there and look at him sheepishly.

"Y/n, why didn't you come to the game, you knew how important it was to me and how much I could have used your support." He said loudly, causing those near you to look on at the conversation.

"Charlie, can we go in the hallway?" He looked pissed but didn't object. Once you were away from everyone, you turned to him.

"Charlie, I am so sorry I didn't go to your game, I was in the library studying and the time just got away from me and before I knew it I had to go to my exam and I completely forgot l. I'm so sorry. But you won anyway so you didn't need me at all, cause your just that good." You said with a smile, trying to defuse his anger. It didn't work.

"Y/n, that's not the point, you said you would be there and I wanted you there. You didn't need to study for your exam, you've been studying all week, this is all I asked of you and you couldn't even give me this." As he finished, you felt sorrow drain and anger rise.

"What exactly do you mean I didnt need to study for my exam? I have been studying all week, unlike you, because I care about getting good grades. You know how badly I need to do on my exams to have a future! I didnt go to your match, because I wanted to make sure I did well. I apologized but now your being irrational." He scoffed.

"Irrational? I asked one thing of you, I asked you to attend a quiditch match to support your boyfriend, but apparently if it doesn't benefit you, it doesn't matter, huh is that it?" You were now fully screaming at each other, thank god the hallway was deserted.

"Are you serious? You know maybe if you cared more about your future and grades like I do, you would see where I'm coming from, but all you care about is a God damn match and dragons! No wonder we've been like this for months. You say im selfish, I've done everything for you. I miss one thing and the worlds over to you." Charlie turned away and scoffed.

"You're right, we have been like this for a long time, because we just don't work anymore." You froze. "Y/n, you can't even support your own boyfriend, you care more about tests than anything, this clearly isn't working." You looked at him while a tear rolled down your cheek, which you quickly wiped away. You didn't want to break up with Charlie, God no. But he didn't seem to want to stay together.

"Charlie, it's not like that, you know how stressed I've been, I'm sorry I didn't come to your game, I truly meant to go. I care a lot about my future, but you don't and thats not on me. You can't put this on me, its not just the match, you've been like this ever since the dance, its not only me." More tears rolled down your cheeks as one slid out from his eye.

"Y/n, this just isn't working, I'm sorry." No, God no please.

"Charlie, no, please, don't do this. I swear I-" he cut you off.

"I'm sorry, its already done." He turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in an empty corridor, feeling your heart leaving your soul. You don't know how it happened, you don't know where it went wrong. Was it truly the match? Or was it ever since the day of the dance? Did he even ever like you?

As you stood in that corridor, you felt cold, you felt like you soul left you. You watched him walk away and eventually out of eyesight, thinking about how you would never feel his kiss again, never feel the comfort of his embrace, never feel his love again.

You didn't want this, God no, but your gut told you it had to happen, you just wish it didn't hurt this much. As you wrapped your arms around yourself and sank to the floor with tears on your face, you felt nothing but hollow, wishing the presence of charlie was still there. Wishing he could hold you and tell you he loved you again, as you loved him still.

You didn't know how you were going to go on without him, but you knew one thing for sure, the last thing you cared about was your fucking grades, because you just lost the best thing in your life.

A/n: okay, sorry this took so long, I suck i know! Im sorry this was shitty, I will try to finish the series relatively soon, there will be 2 more parts. I hope you like it, thanks for reading!

[thesightstoshowyou]

ok so i’ve just bulldozed your jason and penny wise fanfics so you probably know who i am but this is going to stay anonymous lmao anyways. what i want to say for one; your penny wise stories are flawless. like your word play and imagery made me imagine everything so easily. i’m over here gasping at how you twist the words.

two, can i request a penny wise nfws i think that’s what it’s called. you can go to the moon with it and how you want it to play out. but can it be where the reader is not dating penny wise but is kind of in the same circumstances as your other readers in the other fanfic. anyways i adore you your amazing at writing keep up he good work.

Wow, thank you so much! I really appreciate your kind words. And don’t worry, anon. Discretion is my middle name ;) Honestly, Penny is one of my favs to write. He’s just so truly chaotic evil. There are no limits to what he can do!

Also, you can thank my husband for the hilarious idea for this fic. I was so stuck and he just comes out of left field with this and I’m like, “BRILLIANT!”

~~

Pennywise x F Reader (NSFW) Warnings: Noncon, horror elements, blood, painful sex, alien anatomy, creampie

            “See you!” you wave to your coworkers as they lock up. You head down the sidewalk, wrapping your jacket tighter around you to stave off the evening chill. Overhead, stars twinkle, a thin slice of crescent moon winking down at you from the night sky.

             As you walk past the park, a quiet giggle reaches your ears. You freeze, looking around nervously. When you glance across the street, you startle, hand going to your chest in surprise.

             There’s a man standing in the center of the street, tall and gangly and…he’s wearing a fucking clown costume. His yellow eyes seem to glow in the darkness and stringy drool drips from his full, crimson lips. You stumble back, looking wildly around you for someone else to affirm what you’re seeing is real.

             When you look back, the clown gives you a little half-bow, invisible bells jingling when he moves. You back away slowly, every hair on your body standing on end. Something…something isn’t right. He’s too tall, his head is turning, tilting, jesus christ, tilting too far, his chin is pointed at the sky—

             You turn on your heel and flee, shoes crunching on gravel as you flee into the park. You sprint, almost to the other end of the lawn when you skid to a halt, heart jumping into your throat. He’s there, the clown, peeking at you around a tree. He waves and you shriek, darting to the left, crashing through bushes, vaulting over a fence.

             Landing with a thud, your eyes dart around, taking stock of your surroundings. You find yourself at a playground. In the dark, the jungle gym looks more like a torture device than a fun afternoon activity.

             You stumble, push yourself to your feet, keep running. You’re about to pass the slide when a white, gloved hand darts out from the opening, grasping you around the shin and sending you sprawling, skidding on gravel until your palms break open and bleed.

             You scream when your tugged backwards, into the slide, your chin smacking against the plastic lip, static crackling when you’re pulled all the way to the top. You thrash, kicking your legs, but a heavy weight sits on your calves, pinning you. You twist around, finding the clown grinning through the opening of the slide at you with way too many jagged teeth.

             “Pretty little thing, walking home allllll alone. Slippery, wet thing.” His voice is bizarre, lilting and gruff all at once.

             “What do you want?” you screech, clawing at sides of the slide, fingers unable to find a grip on the slippery surface. The clown inhales noisily and you feel chilly drool drip onto the exposed skin of your lower back.

             “Want to smell more of that pretty, pretty little cunt, yes, slurp you up and spit out the bones.” You scream at that, writhing when claws hook into your jeans and shred the fabric. You sob, scream for help, your shouts bouncing off the walls of the slide and assaulting your eardrums.

             The weight lifts from your calves, but immediately your hips are hoisted in the air and a slick, wet appendage buries itself between your trembling thighs, dragging across your bare pussy until you gasp. Sharp teeth nick the flesh of your ass. You scream at the sting, feeling warmth—blood—trickling down your thighs. The appendage, a tongue, laps at your wound and the creature behind you groans deep in his chest.

             “Tasty, sweet treat. Be good for Pennywise, now. No wiggling.” You’re shoved forward again, your upper half pushed back into the opening of the slide, your lower half positioned on its knees. Something else, something thick, dripping, and wriggling brushes against your entrance and you choke on a scream, fear and disgust making your throat seize.

             “One, two, threeeeee!” he sings, slamming his hips forward and burying his alien cock deep in your unprepared cunt. Your jaw drops open and you wheeze, feeling like all the air has been knocked from your lungs. Pain blossoms in your gut, a deep, spasming ache that brings tears to your eyes.

             “Hahhh, a tight fit,” he comments, snickering. You gasp when Pennywise rears back, only to ram forward again, pushing your further into the slide. You scramble to catch yourself but the claws digging into your hips hold you fast.

             Soon the wet slap of skin against skin echoes down the plastic tube, mingling with your huffs and cries. The drag of his slippery cock along your walls quickly becomes too much, too stimulating, too painful, too good. Nonsensical words tumble from your mouth, half-garbled pleas and strangled shouts mixing until you don’t know what’s what.

             Pennywise cackles wildly. The bells of his costume jingle absurdly in time with the thrust of his hips. Tears and spit spill from your face, pooling onto the cold plastic beneath you and slipping down the slide.

             Distantly, you hear something over your own haggard breathing and desperate cries. Music? No singing, words, voices floating up from the bottom of the slide. You can’t make them out, or rather, you don’t want to, but their meaning comes anyway.

             Float, float, we all float, we all float down here….

             “P-Please!” you scream, feeling pressure mounting in your gut with each wild snap of the clown’s hips. Fear mounts in the same way as your impending orgasm and threatens to push you into hysteria.

             “Better cum, little pet, little treat, time to cum, time to cum and float, float away!” You clamp your eyes shut as hot, spine-numbing pleasure rips through you so hard you shake. It’s painful and exhilarating all at once, the way your cunt clenches around the thick intrusion within you. The clown grunts, a rumbling growl your only warning before he’s fucking a second orgasm out of you like it’s his purpose in life.

             Your arms give you and your head falls against the slide with a thud when Pennywise groans, liquid heat painting your insides until it’s leaking down your thighs, your stomach, and dripping down the slide to join your tears and drool. Your breath comes in shuddering gasps and, deliriously, you wonder what happens next.

             “Bye, bye, pet! Weeee!” he shouts, shoving your forward. Your stomach jolts as you tumble down and out of the slide, flopping onto the cold gravel in a sore, wet heap.

             Silence greets your ears. Just like that, the clown is gone, vanished like a magic trick.

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

I've been so excited to write for the Mystic Messenger Reverse Big Bang 2021 (go check out other amazing fics and art in the collection at @mysme-rbb), and it's the first fanfic/art event I've participated in! @madiebelleadventures and I teamed up to brainstorm this beast, so her art is at the very end (because I ain't spoilin nothin)!

-

Rating: T

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: One day after the end of a work week, Vanderwood surprises MC with some husband-wife baking time—with a twist. Inspired by his agent training, he suggests that they bake as a team but have MC blindfolded. In order to make a cake that's actually edible, she must follow his directions to the letter. All that's left after that is chaos, banter, and spouse-flustering. And figuring out how to actually make a cake.

A/N: Fyi MC is definitely more of her own character than a reader-insert on this one. Also as per usual with me, I headcanon Vanderwood as British, so I tried heavily to align his phrasing accordingly, despite being an American myself. Enjoy seeing exactly how much fluff I can possibly cram into 5k words!

MC sighed happily at the feeling of the wind in her hair as she drove home from work one Friday evening. Windows down, jacket off, music blasting—the air itself felt like freedom. She had nothing against her job—in fact, she enjoyed it for the most part. She prided herself in a job well done, she liked being able to manage a team of her own, and the paycheck and benefits were good. Nothing extravagant, of course, but enough to comfortably support a couple newlyweds.

And that was the real reason MC nearly jumped out the door every day when everything wrapped up at the office. Who wouldn't, with a husband as unfairly hot as Vanderwood? Completely unfair how he could make leopard print and what was practically a mullet actually look attractive. Thank goodness his fashion sense had mellowed out over time, if only a little bit. With Vanderwood's past being what it was, they had mutually come to the conclusion that it would be best for their well-being if he stayed at their apartment during the day to keep the household running. He was very particular about how he cooked, cleaned, and did the laundry, and he handled their finances conscientiously and precisely. Admittedly, she did have to occasionally remind him that as sleek as that new top-of-the-line taser was, there was no real need for it, but that was just part of her husband's charm.

And boy, was he charming.

She truly couldn't wait to get home, past this rush hour traffic. She'd get home and be pulled in for a deep kiss moments after walking in the door. Maybe he'd slip a gentle but insistent hand into her hair. Maybe they'd take it a little further. Or a lot further.

"HOLY FUDGE NUGGETS ON BACON ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME???"

MC swerved to avoid a collision and waited for her heartbeat to settle down again. There was no freaking way she was going to die in some stupid car wreck before their date tonight. A surprise, he'd said. No matter how hard she'd tried to weasel more out of him, he wouldn’t bend. Darn agent training. Good thing it wouldn't be a surprise for much longer. Within minutes, the streets got smaller and quieter as she neared her apartment building. Another minute, and she flung open the apartment door and leapt on her husband.

MC's fantasies were soon replaced by an even better reality when Vanderwood's lips landed on hers. Kissing back enthusiastically, MC wrapped her arms around his middle so tight that a less sturdy man would be coughing for air. Vanderwood snatched her keys and purse and hung them by the doorway, never breaking his focus for a second. His kisses grew slower, but no less fervent, as he smoothed her wind-strewn hair. Eventually, their lips reluctantly parted, and MC broke the silence.

"How did I manage to snag the best kisser on earth on top of marrying the most insanely attractive man on earth?"

Vanderwood smirked. "Good taste, I guess." He kissed her once more soundly for good measure.

"Maybe. Will my insanely attractive husband tell me what our surprise date is now?"

"Perhaps."

"No perhapses! I've been dying waiting!"

"Very well. Start by changing your clothes, because I am not scrubbing stains out of your good work clothes."

"Do I otherwise have to wear anything in particular? That's not a lot to go off of."

"Doesn't matter to me. Now go change before I do the job myself."

"I wouldn't complain."

"This is not that kind of date! Go!"

"Fine, Sir Panties-in-a-bunch."

MC went to the bedroom and took stock of her clothing options. She had to choose something practical that could be easily washed, but she still wanted to look a little cute. After all, it was a date. It was a tough balance to strike. Eh, she could always stick an apron or an old shirt over it. She grabbed her oversized paint shirt just in case before snagging a light pink shirt. Now for the bottoms. She debated on a simple skirt, but decided to go for it. After all, if it didn't fit with Vanderwood's plans, he would tell her. MC changed quickly and weaved her hair into a side braid, slipping a tendril out on each side to frame her face. Mirror-MC nodded in approval. Time to see what on earth her husband had been planning.

She cracked open the door and peeked through before skipping over to Vanderwood, who had made himself comfortable on the couch. His amber eyes widened in interest.

"You have no business looking this pretty for a baking date."

MC grinned. "Ha! I did get it out of you! A baking date sounds cute. What made you think of that? Are you just really getting into the whole house husband gig?"

"It was my agent training, actually." Seeing the puzzled look on his wife's face, Vanderwood continued, "There's a bit of a twist to it, you see. I will hardly be doing any of the actual baking. You, my dear, on the other hand, will be completely blindfolded. You will have to follow my instructions explicitly, or else the result will be completely inedible."

"I still fail to see how the setup doesn't sound like 'that kind of date', but it sounds like fun! What does this have to do with your agent training, though?"

"Various exercises used similar techniques. Many times in the field, we had to follow orders to the letter with no questions asked if we wanted to make it out in one piece. We also did training to be able to operate blindly or in the dark if our vision was compromised. But none of it was as enjoyable as watching a beautiful woman bake a cake by pure trust."

"You're such a flatterer. Keep it coming," MC smirked.

"At least get into the kitchen first," Vanderwood said, handing her a blindfold that looked suspiciously like his nap mask.

"Okay, but if you don't want me in the kitchen until I'm blindfolded, you're gonna have to get my apron yourself."

"I thought I was the one giving out orders tonight?"

"A girl's gotta get her kicks somewhere."

"Such a docile wife I have. Never difficult, never demanding."

"You think it's sexy. Don't even try to deny it."

"I would have filed for immediate divorce if the description 'docile' actually fit you." He stepped into the kitchen and emerged a moment later with the apron. MC slipped it on and, after ducking briefly into the bathroom to wash her hands, covered her eyes with the blindfold.

"I'm at your mercy now. Don't abuse that privilege."

He materialized behind her, winding his arms around her waist. "I wouldn't dream of it," he murmured into her ear before attacking her stomach. MC burst into uncontrollable giggles.

"I swear—!" she giggled "—I swear I'm going to punch the living daylights out of you!"

"You're certainly welcome to try. You know I wouldn't even feel it."

"But I could try. How am I supposed to trust you to give me decent directions to bake whatever the heck we're making if I can't even trust you not to tickle me?"

"You don't. That's the thrill of it."

"You'd better have me make something actually edible for all our trouble."

"That all depends on how well you follow my instructions."

"And how decent your instructions are. Let's not forget that tiny detail," she reminded.

"Hmm, we'll see," The smile was evident in his voice. "Now if we're going to start, we need to go ahead and do it."

"Probably."

He guided MC by her upper arms into the narrow kitchen.

"Fortunately," he said, halting and holding her in place, "we're only baking a cake and not an entire meal, so it won't take an eternity."

"I sure hope not! It's pizza night and I'm already a little hungry!"

He wound his hands around his wife's waist, lightly patting her stomach. "Well, the faster we start, the faster we can eat. I've already laid everything out for you as best I can, so you just have to follow my directions, all right, love?"

"Got it."

"All right, can you feel the worktop?" A nod. "Raise your right hand just a bit...and over…now grab the box with the cake mix, because heaven knows neither of us knows or cares enough to make it from scratch. Got it? Now open it up. The mixing bowl is straight to the left. Go ahead and pour it in."

"Just so you know, if I spill anything, you're the one taking responsibility."

"And why is that, darling?" Vanderwood asked, feigning shock.

"Because you're the one who had this idea in the first place! Not to mention if I make a mess it’s because of your faulty directions."

Unfortunately, MC failed to prove her point, pouring the mix into the bowl and barely spilling a few crumbs.

"Looks like we may not have to worry about that," Vanderwood smirked.

"You have met me, right? You know something's going to get spilled, right?"

Ignoring her, he moved the empty box toward the back and continued, "The milk should be right around where the cake mix was, if you can remember where you just were. The measuring jug is right next to it. Do you think you can pour it in correctly?"

"We'll see, now won't we?"

"There you go. Just try to take it slowly, just in case, and stop when I say so."

MC obeyed, gradually tilting the milk jug until a thin stream hit the center of the measuring cup.

"Brilliant! Now careful, careful, slightly to the left...that's it! Now slow down...almost done...stop!" He kissed her cheek. "That was amazing. Now pour it into the bowl."

MC felt around for the mixing bowl again. She managed to find it and poured in the milk. "Where's the cap for the milk jug?"

"Hm...where did it go? Oh, there it is. Right by the sink."

She batted at the air around her right side to find the inside of the sink. Instead, her hand bumped the side of the milk jug. Vanderwood's hand shot out to catch it, but a small puddle had already sloshed onto the counter. MC's hand shot up to take off the blindfold, but Vanderwood caught her wrist first. She sighed.

"Vandy, give it to me straight. How bad is it?"

"Not bad at all. I caught it before much got out. Stay put for a moment while I wipe it up so it doesn't start to smell or dry up."

"Not to say I told you, but I definitely told you."

Her husband stuck out his tongue at her—one of the few ways he had begun to let himself be childish lately. Then the obvious dawned on him. "I'm sticking out my tongue. I thought you ought to know that."

"Crucial information. Are you done yet?"

"Yep. You ready to get your hands a little dirty?"

"Isn't that expected in all this?"

"That's probably a large part of why you demanded an apron first, yes."

"You would be right about that, also yes. And you're so dramatic. I did not demand."

"Up to interpretation. Reach up to the left of the mixing bowl and just grab it off the plate and toss it in."

As instructed, MC reached over and let out a tiny shriek when her hand came into contact with the soft butter. Vanderwood guffawed.

"I was waiting for that."

MC gasped. "You did this on purpose!" She flung the butter into the bowl with an extra dash of vindictiveness.

"Maybe so. I like hearing your reactions," he purred.

"Don't try to be all smooth when you're being a twit. It doesn't suit you," MC sniffed, then muttered under her breath, "actually it totally works for you but it doesn't make me less ticked at you."

"By the way, don't bother trying to wash your hands just yet. The next part is probably going to be the messiest. I'll go get the bin so it'll be close by for you."

"Appreciated. What's the next part?"

"Eggs."

"Yikes, okay. That's why I needed the trash can, then. And where are the eggs?"

"To your left. You're going to need four of them. I read somewhere that adding an extra egg makes it better, hypothetically."

"You're the one giving the instructions."

"Alright, the bin is to your left, whenever you're ready."

"I could hear the thunk when you set it down, but thank you," MC said wryly.

"I live to serve."

There was silence for a moment as MC cracked the first egg into the bowl, and a soft smile rose on her face like the dawn. "Not anymore, you don't. I thank God every day that you and Saeyoung were able to free yourselves from the agency. I never could have forgotten you even if you hadn't, but I never would have known the immense joy I've gotten to have by being your wife." She sniffed, then laughed. "Sorry for being so sentimental all of a sudden, I don't know what got into me. It's just that knowing how many things could have gotten between us makes me that much more grateful for what we have."

"Ah!" Vanderwood shot a hand out to correct the second egg's trajectory into the mixing bowl.

"Oops, thank you."

"No problem, love. We're a team." He settled against her back, rubbing her arms lightly and placing a tender kiss on her cheek. "And never feel sorry for your so-called sentimentality. In fact, I really think you hold back sometimes. You shouldn't. I know that I used to scoff at these things, but locking out your emotions for job after job really takes a toll on a man. The agency had no room for love of any sort, and I've long come to the realization that every person is hardwired to desire love of one kind or another. I know I'm still unlearning all of my coping mechanisms, and I know I'm still sharp with some people, but with you?" He smoothed a hair back from her face. "I'll take whatever love you can give me."

She cracked the third egg into the bowl and threw out the shell. "I always knew you could be a softie, very deep down. I'm just glad that I get to be the one to see it."

After the fourth egg was in the bowl, Vanderwood directed, "Okay, time to wash up. The next thing is mixing for two minutes. While I love you, I do not trust you to use an electric mixer while blindfolded, so you're going to use a whisk for that job."

"I suppose that's fair. Can you put away the trash can while I wash my hands?"

"Already on it."

"Where's the whisk, again?"

"I kind of put it toward the back, so either be careful or wait for me to move a few things."

"Oh, I've got it. Don't worry," MC waved a hand in dismissal and groped around for the whisk, but her arm was a bit too low, and she dipped her clothed elbow in the plate where the butter had been. She sighed. "What did I just decorate my elbow with?"

"Butter. Try it. It might be tasty," he teased.

"Come on, Vandy, this is not the time. Help me get it off before it soaks in too much."

"Alright, alright, I just had to pick on you a little bit for not listening to me." He carefully scooped off the top layer of the butter with a paper towel before trying to absorb the rest. "I'm going to roll up your sleeves a bit more so that this hopefully won't happen again."

"Well, not until I slosh half the cake out of this bowl trying and failing to mix it."

"You'll be fine. Just stick to mixing the center and bringing the outside of it toward the center so everything gets mixed. But mix it well and mix it fast. The timer starts...now!"

MC held the bowl against her stomach to steady it while she mixed the batter vigorously. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one trying to mix furiously while keeping it all in the bowl on top of being blindfolded!"

"Calm down, you're doing great. A couple drips, maybe, but it's staying in."

"So far, anyway. But that's good, I guess."

"No guessing. It's quite good." Vanderwood leaned against the counter. "We've got a minute and a half to kill. Should I spend it telling you how you look right now?"

"Oh gosh, do I even want to know?"

He shook his head in near disbelief, smiling. "Magnetic. Adorable. More delicious than the cake we're making."

MC cackled. "You cannot be serious. I've got to be a mess right now."

"You act as if that's a contradiction. It's the mess that makes you more beautiful. Is every single hair of yours in place? No. But they fall around your face in the most delicately beautiful way. Even the places where the ingredients got smudged on you somehow add to your charm." He leaned in so that his lips touched her ear, his voice lowering to a gravelly timbre. "Did you know that your cheeks are all rosy from the effort you're putting into stirring? It's unbelievably attractive. And the way your lips press together when you're concentrating? It makes me want to kiss them apart. In fact—"

"Vanderwood, how much time is left?" MC interrupted, suppressing a vivid blush and a shiver.

"Our entire lives," he said, happily ignoring the real question.

"The timer, Vanderwood. How much is left on the timer?"

The sound of the timer going off answered the question for him. "None," he grinned. "I'll go spray the cake pan while you rest for a moment. You've earned it."

She exhaled, set the mixing bowl aside, and stretched. Then a thought made her panic. "Vandy, we forgot to preheat the oven."

He held her face in his hands. "MC. Darling. Breathe. I set the oven when I grabbed the apron."

Her breathing gradually slowed. "Sorry, love. I'm just really hungry and kind of tired and I think not being able to see is doing weird things to my brain and you kind of flustered me a minute ago with what you were saying and I'm sorry, I—" her voice cracked, but Vanderwood cut her off and held her close.

"Hey...hey...you're alright. There's nothing to be sorry about. I kept you going after a long day of work without feeding you first. I should have known better." He smoothed her hair and tucked it into her braid. "I'll tell you what. How about we get this cake in the oven and then order some pizza and watch another episode of Cucumber Fish?"

MC sniffled and hummed in agreement. Vanderwood loosened his hold around her and gently brought her hands to the bowl again before grabbing the cake pan. "Okay, all you've got to do now is pour it into the pan that I've put just to the left of the bowl. Just take it nice and easy. There you go. Perfect. You're almost done. Now let me get a spatula to scoop the last of it out." After he finished, he slid the cake pan into the oven and started the timer. "There. All done." He slipped the mask off her eyes and gave her a peck on the lips as she blinked to adjust to the light. "I'll clean all this up, alright? Go ahead and relax on the sofa. You can order the pizza and get Cucumber Fish queued up while I finish up in here."

"Okay," she murmured. Another peck, and she curled up on the couch. She pulled out her phone to order the pizza and smiled at the notifications she'd gotten from the RFA chatroom. They were up to their normal antics again. Hopefully, Saeyoung wouldn't exasperate Saeran too much with his crazy propositions. But there was nothing she could do about that, and she was starving and in desperate need of pizza. Once it was ordered, she turned on the TV and selected the episode, making sure to let it run past the ads before pausing it.

After Vanderwood joined her on the couch, the next forty-five minutes was filled with lots of cuddling and pizza devouring, more kissing than watching the show, a few glances at the cake's progress, an agreement to actually watch the episode while they ate the cake, and several minutes of cooling time after the cake was removed from the oven. Vanderwood emerged from the kitchen after a few minutes of setting up to decorate.

"Are you sure you want to put on the mask again?" he asked. "I don't want it to mess with your head like it did last time."

"I'll be fine, babe. I'm pretty sure it was like that last time just because I was starving."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"If you say so. Go ahead and get them on, then," he said, handing MC the apron and mask.

"Just make sure to lead me into the kitchen again."

"Hmm, we'll see."

"We'll see?" she repeated, but shrieked soon after when she no longer felt the ground beneath her feet. Vanderwood had scooped her up to carry her into the kitchen bridal-style and sank his lips against hers with intentionality. He bumped into the counter but managed to avoid any damage to his wife. He deposited one last kiss on her lips before setting her down.

"What have you done to me, woman? Years and years of agent skills, undone in a moment. If it were anything or anyone else, I never would have bumped into that worktop. But when it's you kissing me, you're the only thing that exists." He grinned. "It's a shame, really. I thought my dexterity was an impressive skill, but I don't even have that anymore, it seems."

"Shame indeed," MC parroted, trying to steal another kiss from his lips and stealing one from his nostrils instead. She made a face, causing Vanderwood to laugh.

"Well, at least I still have the ability to order you around." MC smacked him in response, and he continued, "Alright, alright, let's get to it then. This is where it'll get really interesting, since decorating requires more precision. Which, no offense, is a skill you don't have, since you're not exactly used to being blind."

"Now wait just a—okay, I can't argue that," MC sighed. He placed a spatula in one hand and a jar of frosting in her other.

"Turn around. Can you find where the cake is?"

"Ye—wait, Vandy! I thought you said you cleaned up!"

"I did…sort of." Before she could protest, he interjected, "I wiped the worktop! I just pushed all the dishes to one side so we could put all of it in the dishwasher at once when we were done!" He added with a mumble, "I just wanted to get back to you."

"You think you can charm your way out of anything," MC responded airily. "Well, you're right." She squared up as best she could with a frosting jar in hand. "I found the cake. I'll try to do my best."

"Well, in this part, I won't let you go completely solo. I can rotate the cake for you as you go, if you want."

"Please."

MC scooped a large helping of frosting from the jar and started spreading around the perimeter. Her spatula made a slight detour for a moment to donate some frosting to the top of the cake, and Vanderwood halted and reversed his rotation slightly to avoid confusion. A few seconds later, she went for another, slightly smaller, scoop to finish frosting the circumference of the cake. Another scoop, added to the deposit from the first, finished off the top.

"Is there a big corner around the top edge? Or any dry spots?" she asked.

"Just a slight corner. Grab a little bit more frosting to round it off a bit and thicken the top."

She did as directed while he helped rotate, and stepped back. "Better?"

"Much better. Maybe we can add a little artistic touch by making some...what do you call them? Swoops? Around the sides from the top?"

"Sounds great. You're definitely going to have to help me, though."

"Alright, I'll rotate again and stop you when you're done. Then you can smooth off the top edge again quick."

Six slightly lopsided arcs later, he stepped back for a moment, observing. "This is certainly not the prettiest cake I've seen, but it all adds to the fun, yeah?"

"I guess," she laughed.

"Now here's the part that'll really get a laugh when you take off the blindfold. I've got a bowl over here with some frosting for smaller decorating, and you get to pick the food coloring that goes in it."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," he snickered while guiding her over to a trio of colored bottles that she couldn't discern. "Take your pick," he said cheerily. MC gingerly selected one, and he suppressed a snort poorly. "Excellent choice!"

MC groaned. "I'm going to regret all my life choices, aren't I?"

"Of course not! Only your decision to marry me."

"Hey." She squeezed his wrist. "I could never regret that."

"You might reevaluate that statement when you take off the blindfold and see the cake. Or at least my ugly mug."

"Vanderwood. Don't you even start with me. You're so hot that if we were working with chocolate instead of a cake, we wouldn't need the microwave to melt it."

"You're so hot that the beach would need sunblock instead of you."

"You're so hot that the sun goes to you when it needs to warm up."

They collapsed against each other, gasping for air. Vanderwood caught his breath first. "Let's get this food coloring in the bowl, shall we? The spoon and frosting are already in it. All you have to do is put a few drops in and stir until I say so. The bowl's on your left."

"As you wish," she said as she did so.

After a few moments, he spoke. "That's enough. Let me get you back over to the cake, and I'll get the frosting in the decorating bag. Which is really just an ordinary plastic bag, but I did pick up some cheap decorating tips when I got the ingredients."

"Splendid. How am I going to decorate, though? Even if I could see, I don't know the first thing about cake decorating. Oh yeah, and I can't see."

"Don't get your 'panties in a bunch,' as you like to tell me so often. I'll do it with you this time."

"But you don't know how to decorate cakes, either!"

"Ah-ah-ah!” he chided. “Do you trust me or not?"

"Not particularly."

"Hey!"

"But! We should just go ahead and do it anyway, because even though neither of us knows what we're doing, we're the only ones in this apartment who can. And the frosting smells too good not to eat soon."

"That's my girl." Vanderwood curled around her. He molded one hand around hers and slid the other over her stomach. As they formed a few swirls on the top, he murmured, "We did this whole thing together. How impressive is that? Was it as fun for you as it was for me?"

MC smiled. "Of course it was. I know I got a little hangry for a bit there, but I know how much thought you put into this. None of my old deadbeat ex-boyfriends ever would have cared so much, let alone shown it. These are the things that make me love you that much more."

"I never experienced any permanent love until you showed it to me. And it's been so...world-altering—that I've been trying to wrap my head around it ever since. I still can't. But I swear I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to give you the same love you've given me. I certainly don't deserve it, after the things I've done. But you do. You deserve all the happiness a person can have."

MC paused and blushed slightly. "Vandy…" She exhaled. "We've gone over this whole 'not deserving it' thing. Whether you deserve it or not doesn't matter. To me, what matters is your heart. You have such a beautiful heart, Vandy. I love the kind of man you've become. I've seen you strive every day to be better than you were the day before, and that is so inspiring."

"Well, whether or not I deserve happiness, I would choose to be happy every day if my being happy made you happy." He squeezed her hip affectionately and pulled her in for a tender kiss.

"It would." She kissed him back. They added one last swirl and a border before they set down the bag of frosting. He uncurled her fingers and fiddled with her wedding ring.

"Are you ready to see it?"

"Sure."

He slipped off the blindfold, and she gasped.

"What have we done?" she exclaimed as her laughing grew louder by the second.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Vanderwood asked, feigning ignorance.

"The cake is bright flaming orange, Vandy!" She let out a snort, then covered her face. "Hey, wait! All the food coloring was the same color too, you little twit!"

He shrugged innocently. MC sputtered. "Nuh-uh. Don't you shrug at me, mister. Saeyoung has rubbed off on you way too much."

"Has not."

She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe the tiniest bit."

"Uh huh, that's what I thought. Now are you as ready as I am to eat this cake and watch Cucumber Fish?"

"Let me take a picture first. And another one with you in it? You look so lovely, I can't not have one with you in it."

She tried desperately to keep a frown on her face as he snapped a picture but couldn't quite hold back the quirk at the corner of her mouth. He cut a slice for each of them and handed one to her. He curled the paper plate around his slice, and she did likewise. They looked each other in the eyes, both knowing exactly what would come next. Vanderwood solidified his stance. "Ready...steady...GO!" The couple raced to the living room and took a running jump onto the couch, ready for the wonderful night ahead.

[hazel-writes]

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female OC

Summary: Aristeia, an ambitious and self-reliant journalist on Tatooine, crosses paths with a Mandalorian after a harrowing encounter with Imperial remnants.

Word Count: 5,000

Warnings: canon-typical violence, death

A/N: Oh my gosh, I finally did it. After months of reading some absolutely incredible Mando fanfics, I took the plunge and started writing my own. I'm so excited to share this with all of you!

This fic starts during episode 1x5 and will loosely follow the show's timeline (I will be taking many creative liberties). The first chapter is from Aristeia's point of view, but I'll be going back and forth between her POV and Din's afterwards. I jump straight into the action in this fic, so if things seem a little crazy at first, don't worry, all will be explained soon :)

This is my first time writing for our favorite space cowboy, so any and all feedback is welcomed! If you want to keep updated on this fic between updates, check my bio for other places you can find me. Also, a Spotify playlist to accompany this fic is coming soon!

Without further ado, please enjoy this chaotic mess of a chapter! ♥︎

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Aristeia sighed as she weaved her way through the busy streets of Mos Eisley, Tatooine. It was almost sunset and most people were heading home after long days at work. A layer of dust rose around the feet of those attending to last-minute errands. She watched as a woman bought a large red fruit from one of the street-side vendors. A soot-covered teenaged boy stood by the neighboring building, stocking up on mechanical supplies. Near his feet, two sunburnt children fought over a small toy. The scene was normal to her: ever since settling on Tatooine years ago, Aristeia had slowly grown accustomed to the slow and gritty flow of the planet.

As she continued walking, she kept her head down, eyes always focused a few steps ahead of her feet. However, whenever someone neared, she would look up briefly to offer them a small smile. Most of the time they ignored her, scowled, or rolled their eyes, but every now and then, someone would return her gesture. Those moments made the effort worth it.

Unlike the people who meandered around her, Aristeia was just starting her work for the day. She kicked up clouds of dirt as she made her way to the recently-abandoned mechanic’s shop. She used to frequent it back when she had a speeder, but after the owners passed away, it had unfortunately turned into a popular site of criminal activity. A few days back, she had intercepted a transmission that mentioned a meeting at the location, and as a journalist, she had to be there to see what was going on. Armed with a small notebook and stylus, she was prepared to document the whole thing.

Turning the corner of a dusty alley, which was littered with miscellaneous tools and sheets of scrap metal, the old mechanic’s place finally came into view. Its exterior architecture was similar to that of the rest of Tatooine, however its dark and doorless entrance led to an underground network of small rooms. With every step Aristeia took towards the building, her anxiety grew. Unlike her other investigative stakeouts, she was going into the mechanic’s blind. The transmission didn’t reveal a whole lot about the nature of the meeting, which she knew meant it was of special importance. These were the kind of meetings that could provide her with a groundbreaking story. They were also the kind of meetings where someone could get hurt.

Aristeia had never been good at fighting – physically, at least – but she did give herself credit for not having died so far, especially in her line of work. Put a blaster in her hand and she’d probably shoot her own foot off. However, put a pen in her hand, and she was a force to be reckoned with.

Aristeia had been writing ever since she was young. It started with little stories: she would go into a crowd of people, find a quiet place to sit, and observe each person that passed by. She would notice what they were wearing, how they carried themselves, who they were with, where they were going, and then she would make up the ‘why’: Why were they dressed like that? Why did they walk like that? Why were they with this person or that person? Her imagination would stitch together the missing pieces of their backstories, creating life narratives of people she had never even met. She did the same thing now from time to time. In fact, people watching was imperative to her role as a journalist.

As Aristeia grew older, she and a few friends decided to start a local newsletter that got sent out to residents of Mos Eisley every month. It was by no means a ‘professional’ establishment. The writers were all residents, many of them barely adults, who wanted to keep their friends and family informed about any activity that could threaten the freedom they had fought so hard to gain after the fall of the Empire.

A group of giggling children ran around the corner, pulling Aristeia out of her thoughts. She watched as they kicked around a near-deflated ball with bare, dust-covered feet. Sighing, she turned back around to peer down the steps of the abandoned mechanic’s. It was just beginning to get dark and the suns had nearly reached the edge of the horizon, casting eerie shadows on the stairwell walls. She looked for any sign of movement in the space below and when nothing seemed to be stirring, she made her way down the packed-dirt stairs and entered into the main room.

The area was small with not very many places to hide, immediately making her anxious. She had never been a fan of tiny spaces. But this was too important of a mission for her to give up now. She looked to her left and spotted a large plant, which obviously hadn’t seen any light or water for quite some time. However, its pot and leaves could be big enough to hide her if she was able to fit behind it. It’s not like she had very many options to choose from.

A noise from above forced her into action. She darted behind the plant as fast as she could, curling herself up against the corner of the wall. The sounds of heavy footfalls met her ears. There were at least five people making their way into the room she was in. From between the leaves of the plant, she could make out the forms of two stormtroopers and a tall, lanky man in a gray uniform. Imperials.

After the fall of the Empire, most people on Tatooine had celebrated immensely. They believed they had finally achieved freedom. It was hard for Aristeia to share their excitement, knowing how many lives had been lost on both sides. She also had always been a realist, never letting herself get too comfortable when everything seemed to be coming up roses. She had been tracking the movements of rogue troopers around the city for a while, trying to figure out who they took orders from and where they were located. In recent weeks, she had intercepted a few transmissions referencing what the Imps called ‘the asset’. Just one day before, she had caught word of a meeting scheduled to take place in the room where she was now hiding. She knew she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get more intel. Once she had enough information, she planned on writing a massive expose, informing all of Mos Eisley to her discoveries.

A raspy voice broke her train of thought: “Have you found the asset?” Peering around the plant’s leaves, she saw that it was the man in gray who had spoken.

“No, not yet,” a Klatoonian replied gruffly. “We tracked the ship to this city. As far as we know, the Mandalorian still has it.”

A Mandalorian… Aristeia shuddered. There wasn’t much in the galaxy that she was terrified of anymore. Sure, she often felt scared. In fact, she was scared most of the time; it’s part of what kept her alive for so long. But there was very little that truly terrified her. Mandalorians were one of those things.

She shook her head, forcing herself out of her spiraling panic. Focus on the facts, she thought – it was a phrase she repeated often when overwhelmed with her work. Focus on the Facts. The Imperial man’s mention of the Mandalorian was new info to her. All she knew from previous transmissions was that the Imps needed the asset for some sort of experiment. She didn’t understand it too much – she was never very good at science.

Aristeia reached into her bag, pulling out her notebook and stylus so she could document her new discovery. As quietly as she could, she opened the front cover of the journal, flipping to the next blank page.

As she did so, her finger caught on one of the pages, slicing a thin cut across the pad of her pointer finger. Kriff, she whispered, accidentally dropping her stylus as she moved to nurse her injured finger. She realized her fatal mistake too late.

“What do we have here?” she heard a voice drawl from above her. The Klatooinian, who had taken a few steps toward Aristeia, peered around the edge of the plant before looking back at the Rodian. “Is this one yours?”

Aristeia scowled at the suggestion. “No, I most certainly am not.”

The two men chuckled, infuriating her even more. “Why don’t you come out so we can take a better look at you?” the Rodian suggested with a devilish smirk.

“Yeah, cause that sounds like it would end well for me…” she mumbled, trying to think of a way to escape the predicament she had gotten herself into.

The uniformed man and his two stormtroopers stayed quiet throughout the ordeal, seemingly bored by the other mens’ interaction.

“She must be terminated. She has heard too much,” the man in gray finally chimed in.

At this, Aristeia started to panic. She was in deep bantha munk this time. Sure, she had been in tricky positions before – it was kind of a requirement of living on Tatooine – but this was bad.

“I didn’t hear anything, I swear! I was just…” She stood up slowly and looked around the room, trying to find an alibi. “...admiring the plants?”

She mentally facepalmed at her attempt of a lie, something she was never very good at. It helped her in a journalistic sense, as she always did her best to remain objective in her articles. She recognised the power that came with telling the truth, especially now, in the wake of an empire founded largely on lies. However, in this case, she could’ve used a good fib. Admiring the plants, really? she scolded herself. After a moment of silence, the uniformed man directed a curt nod at the stormtroopers, who then advanced on her quickly.

Springing into action, she attempted to kick the chestplate of the trooper closest to her, but missed, only managing to clip his knee. Nonetheless, it threw him off-balance, sending him stumbling into his fellow trooper. She took the brief opening to run as fast as she could towards the stairs that led back up to the main street. She got halfway up, mere feet away from freedom, before a large hand yanked her back down the steps harshly. She fell backwards, scraping her elbows and knees on the hard dirt before hitting her head on the floor, hard.

She couldn’t see anything but blurry spots of white and orange as strong and grimy hands pulled her across the floor, back to the troopers. The one she kicked earlier returned the favor, sending sparks of pain through her abdomen. Footsteps approached and a heavy boot landed between her shoulder blades, forcing her against the floor. Another second passed before she heard the charging up of a blaster from above her head.

Aristeia closed her eyes, cheek pressed to the dirt, accepting her fate. She forced warm memories into her mind, not wanting her last thoughts to be of the man whose heavy boot currently pinned her to the ground. Her mind danced from memory to memory, finding it hard to focus on any one image for too long: a familiar, tender hand ran its fingers along the curves of her face; trees towered over her like arrows aimed for the stars; a single candle cast a warm glow over pieces of parchment; a sweet smile, one she probably would never see again, beamed through the darkness...

A burst of blaster fire sounded from above her head. As if shooting her once wasn’t enough, she thought, before realizing that it wasn’t possible for her to make sarcastic quips if she was dead. She opened one eye, then the other, only to stare right into the lifeless face of the man in the gray uniform. It was a sight she was sure would stay with her forever.

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

She finally looked up, not recognising the deep modulated voice that sounded from above her.

A shining wall of silver met her eyes, his blaster pointed at the Klatoonian. A Mandalorian, she thought. Waves of terror flooded Aristeia’s body. It was almost as if the universe had plucked him straight out of one of her nightmares and dumped him deliberately at her feet. She was familiar with the Mandalorians, more than most, but seeing one after so many years still managed to send shivers down her spine.

Focus on the facts. Focus on the facts. she repeated to herself.

Something about the way the armored man carried himself made her realize that this wasn’t just any Mandalorian: this was the Mandalorian, the one her attackers had been discussing moments earlier.

His presence seemed to fill the whole room. She found her eyes involuntarily moving up his figure, taking in the pure power that emanated from his armored form. Her gaze landed on his face, or where his face should’ve been. Instead, all she could see was her own terrified reflection in his dark, deadly visor.

When the Klatoonian didn’t make any effort to move, the shiny man looked down and gave her a barely perceptible nod to the side. She knew exactly what he was telling her to do.

As fast as she could, she rolled to her right, hearing blaster shots fire above her as she did so. She scrambled back towards the plant she was hiding behind earlier and watched as the armored man fought the others. While the Mandalorian was distracted with the Rodian, the Klatoonian aimed his blaster towards his silver chestplate. Aristeia considered shouting to the metal-clad man in warning, but didn’t want to draw any more attention to herself. To her horror, she watched as the Klatoonian pulled the trigger.

The Mandalorian, however, sensed what was coming and ducked. The blaster beam rebounded off of a large metal sheet that stood propped up against the wall behind him and hit the Klatoonian square in the chest. He fell to the floor, lifeless. To Aristeia’s surprise, she heard the Mandalorian curse, seemingly frustrated by the death of his attacker. The stormtroopers took his moment of annoyed distraction as a sign to run, bolting back up the stairs before the Mandalorian could stop them.

Aristeia’s senses slowly started to come back to her, as did the pain in her stomach, hands and knees. Unsure of the Mandalorian’s intentions, she scrambled on the packed dirt, trying to find the notebook she had brought with her. She finally found it tucked between the wall and the nearby plant pot.

She turned to see the armored man, having knocked the Rodian unconscious, finally focus his attention on her. She grabbed the stylus that she always kept clipped to the side of her notebook, the one that had caused all this trouble to begin with, and held it out in front of her as threateningly as possible.

The Mandalorian casually put a hand on his hip and popped one of his legs out slightly. His helmet tilted to the side incredulously. If she wasn’t so scared, she might have laughed at his almost-lazy posture.

“Hey, they say the pen is mightier than the sword, right?” Aristeia shrugged nervously, still directing the stylus towards the silver mass in front of her.

He ignored her comment and dipped his helmet towards the bodies on the floor. “What were you doing with them?”

She debated whether or not to tell him. His low, warning tone made it seem like she didn’t have much of a choice. So far, he hadn’t made any move to hurt her, despite the fact that he had every opportunity to. Even now he kept his distance, almost like he was trying not to startle her any further. That, or the stylus really had scared him.

“I’m a journalist,” Aristeia responded. “I was trying to get some information for my next story when they found me.”

She shifted on her feet when he didn’t respond right away.

“Story?” he finally repeated, almost like he was skeptical of the word.

“Yeah.”

She knew it must sound silly. Her stories, and journalism as a whole, probably weren’t on this man’s radar. A lot of people thought that her profession was impractical and meddling, but obviously the work she did was important enough to gain the attention of the Imps.

Whatever the Mandalorian was thinking prompted him to mumble something, turn on his heel, and start back up the stairs. Aristeia was left speechless, her hair settling back into place after being disheveled by the sudden billowing of the Mandalorian’s cape.

She looked around the room at the bodies littering the floor, remembering briefly that the troopers had escaped. That alone almost ensured her certain death. They had seen her face – it was only a matter of time before they would find her. Already regretting her decision, she heard herself calling out to the Mandalorian who had reached the top of the stairs: “Wait!”

He stopped his movement, pausing briefly before slowly turning to face Aristeia, who now stood at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up at his figure, which from her angle looked more commanding than ever, his silver armor backlit by the setting suns.

Finally finding her words, she spoke. “Please, I… I need to get off this planet. You have a ship, right? The troopers who ran, they’ll tell the others, they’ll come after me.”

She hated how desperate she sounded, but she didn’t know what else to do. Her friends barely had enough money for speeders. Most of them had never even been off the planet. All she knew was that she needed to leave, and soon.

“Why would they waste your time on you?” the Mandalorian asked, probably unsure how a girl armed with a stylus could possibly pose a threat to the Imps.

She ignored his underestimating tone before replying. “Because I overheard what they were talking about. Once they find out who I am, they’ll kill me.”

“And who exactly are you?”

Kriff, she thought. If the Mandalorian found out just how invested she was in her recent investigations, he could use that against her. “Well… I’m Aristeia.”

The Mandalorian voiced a frustrated sigh. “And?”

“And…”

She was about to answer when she spotted a blinking red light out of the corner of her eye. Upon further inspection, she found its source: a tracking fob held in the Mandalorian’s left hand. Of course, she thought. He’s a bounty hunter. The Klatoonian must have been his bounty – that’s why he was upset when he was accidentally killed in the crossfire.

Aristeia felt her heart rate spike as she devised the best way to backtrack on her previous request for help.

She slowly made her way towards the Mandalorian, subtly attempting to get back up to street level. “...and I really should be getting back to work, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just head back up those stairs now.”

The Mandalorian, unfortunately, noticed the unusual change in her disposition.

“What’s the sudden rush?” he asked as the arm carrying the fob shot out to stop her escape.

“No, no, it’s nothing! I really should go. My… husband is waiting for me,” Aristeia lied. The Mandalorian just stared, his arm remaining in place. “He gets upset when I’m late.” She offered with a fake smile, trying desperately to alleviate the tension. When he still didn’t move, she continued. “He’s very big. And uhh… He’s a sheriff!” she added, for good measure. The Mandalorian cocked his head slightly to the left in response, as if seeing how far she would take her lie. “And he has lots and lots of weapons. A whole armory with guns and knives and other… spiky things.”

“Spiky things?” he asked, almost amused.

“Well, yeah.” she replied, but it came out as more of a question.

“Well, you know what I think?” he said, taking a few sauntering steps forward. His posture oozed confidence – one hand was hooked on his belt, just in front of his blaster, while the other hung casually at his side.

Aristeia took a small step backwards. “W-what?”

“I think you have a bounty on your head.”

Kriff, she thought. He’s good.

Aristeia took another step back, but the Mandalorian closed the distance quickly. She held up her hands placatedly.

“Look, I don’t… know if there’s a price on my head. I’ve always just assumed . Over the past few years, my friends, the other journalists here, they’ve been going missing. It was pretty obvious that the Imps didn’t want us sharing their activities with the whole planet. Recently, things had been pretty quiet, at least until they started freaking out about this whole ‘asset’ thing.”

The Mandalorian’s posture straightened and his towering body leaned towards hers menacingly. When he spoke, his voice lacked all the nonchalance it had earlier and instead radiated a seriousness that chilled her to the core. “What do you know about the ki- the asset?”

Aristeia, regarding his sudden change in demeanor, stuttered in response: “N-nothing really – Shouldn’t you know?”

“Nothing really?” he repeated, completely ignoring her question.

“Just what I’ve heard over the coms.” Shoot, she thought. Shouldn’t have said that.

“You have access to their coms?” he asked, a sliver of surprise peeking through his gruffness.

She did. It was one of her biggest accomplishments since arriving on Tatooine. One evening, she had been at her desk, listening to random transmissions on an old faulty comlink her mother gave her years ago. She would do this every night, never once picking up on the voice she was desperately waiting to hear. Instead, she usually caught onto feeds from people nearby: small business dealings, calls to family working out in the dunes, even the occasional secret teenage correspondence. Aristeia enjoyed listening to the small snippets of the others’ lives; it gave her hope in a world that she seemed more and more disconnected to with each new day.

But on this night, she had intercepted a transmission that was far more concerning than her typical listening content. Two voices, one that she now knew was the man in the gray suit and another who she assumed was a stormtrooper, crackled over the comlink. Within a few minutes, she not only knew that the Empire wasn’t dead, but that they were also situated right on her doorstep . After making this discovery, she made sure to keep her com set to that specific feed, which is how she ended up finding out about the meeting that led to her current encounter with the Mandalorian.

“Sometimes I have access,” she responded to the Mandalorian’s question with a nonchalant shrug. She basked in the power that this information seemed to give her over him. “It depends on how close they are, the wind levels, and if my tech is even working that day-”

“Where do you live?” he interrupted hurriedly.

Aristeia suppressed a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“Where do you live?” he repeated slowly, though this time it came out as a more of a modulated growl.

She laughed nervously. “No way, you seriously think I’d tell a bounty hunter where I lived? That’s like breaking every single rule of common sense. I mean, come on, think of this from my perspective.”

His posture relaxed minutely and he released another sigh, this one less frustrated than the previous. “If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done it by now.”

She recognised the truth in his statement, but that didn’t mean she was willing to go out of her way to help him. For all she knew, he could take the coms and turn her in afterwards. Aristeia tried to get a better read of him, but unlike most people she met, she couldn’t. She didn’t have any guesses as to who he was, what his intentions were, or why the ‘asset’ was so important to him. In a universe of starry galaxies, he was a black hole.

“What do I get out of it?” she asked, trying her best to sound confident. She countered the slight relaxation of his own stance with the newfound boldness of her own. “Helping you, I mean.”

The Mandalorian scoffed beneath his helmet. “I saved your life, I think that’s qualifying enough.”

“You were just going after the Klatooinian.”

“And if I hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

“Wow, consider me comforted.”

He sighed, clearly agitated by her retorts. “If you show me the coms, then I won’t tell the Guild about the little notebook operation you’ve got going on down here,” he said, waving a gloved hand towards the bag that carried her journal.

“And now I’m being blackmailed. Fantastic.” she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Aristeia stilled, evaluating her options. She could either ignore the Mandalorian and risk having him reveal her, and her work, to the Guild, or help him and hope he returned the favor. Neither option was ideal.

“Fine ,” she relented. “Just give me a second.”

Aristeia took the Mandalorian’s lack of response as a signal to go ahead, and made her way back into the darkness of the room that now reeked of death. She tried to think back to the days when she would come to the mechanic’s to repair the many malfunctions her speeder frequently sustained. She always enjoyed the loud and hectic bustle of the establishment. Its owners were kind and would always let the neighborhood kids hang out and watch them work on one project or another, occasionally even letting them help out. Those times seemed distant as Aristeia approached the body of the fallen Imp.

“Hey, you wanna hurry it up down there?” a gruff voice sounded from above.

“Really?” Aristeia replied, astonished at the Mandalorian’s near-childlike impatience.

“I thought you had some husband with a large collection of spiky things who doesn’t like it when you’re late?”

Hearing him repeat her previous lie out loud made it seem even more ridiculous, but she ignored him and continued to move towards the gray-suited man.

“What are you doing?” he called from above, seemingly untrusting of her retreat back to the main room.

Oh my stars, she thought, surprised by her own annoyance at the Mandalorian. Her initial fear had evolved into irritation at his constant attempts at intimidation and control. She couldn’t let her guard down though – she could lose her leverage at any moment and then who knows what he’d do with her.

Aristeia reigned in the sarcastic comment she was about to make and instead answered his question with a restrained sigh. “Seeing if they have any information.”

“In case you didn’t notice, they’re dead. They can’t help you.”

Obviously, she thought with a roll of her eyes, but didn’t say so out loud.

“Yeah, but their pockets can.”

Aristeia stared at the man in gray. Even though the blaster bolt to his chest all but guaranteed his death, she still approached his body warily, as if it could come back to life at any moment. Avoiding his hollow gaze, she dug through his pockets, searching for any more information that could prove useful to her future articles. All she found was a handwritten note containing some sort of coded language she didn’t recognise. She folded it carefully and put it in her own pocket for safekeeping before heading back towards the Mandalorian.

By the time she joined him at street level, the suns had already set. He took a few steps forward but paused when he felt her hesitate behind him. She felt weird leaving behind the mangled bodies of the men in the darkness below.

“We should move the bodies,” she said cautiously, her eyebrows furrowed in confliction.

“No time,” the Mandalorian replied simply, turning back towards the street.

“Please,” she pleaded, looking to her left where a group of children played in the distance. “I- I don’t want any kids finding that.”

He silently followed her gaze and stood completely still for a moment, as if debating his own response. Aristeia tried, and once again failed, to get a good read of what was going through his head.

“Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll get them in the morning.”

She would’ve liked them taken care of sooner, but it seemed that there was no room for negotiation. To be honest, she was surprised he agreed to her request at all. Something was different about this Mandalorian, and she couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

“Which way?” he asked, referencing her house. The one she stupidly agreed to take him to, Aristeia thought.

“Uh…” She paused briefly, but it was a moment too long for the Mandalorian’s liking. “This way,” she finished, pointing down an alley to her left. She hiked the bag she carried higher up on her shoulder and took a few steps forward before feeling a hard tug on her arm.

“Hey, I wouldn’t recommend trying anything. It wouldn’t end well for you,” the Mandalorian said threateningly. His visor stared down at her coldly and she suddenly grew extremely frustrated by the fact that she couldn’t see his eyes. She felt vulnerable under his gaze and didn’t like it one bit.

“Let go of my arm,” Aristeia replied, her voice low and serious. His grip remained strong. She stared daggers up at his helmet and it was the first time since meeting him that she was truly angry. “I said, let go.”

To her surprise, she felt his grip loosen and she promptly tugged her arm away from him. Her posture radiated confidence, but the fear in her eyes betrayed her. Without a word, she spun around and continued heading in the direction of her small house, not sparing another look behind her to see if the Mandalorian was following.

He was.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Masterlist || Next (coming soon!)

[until-theend-oftheline]

Two Hearts as One

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader 

Warnings: Explicit Sex, language, Dorks in love.

Squares Filled: Movie Night for @marvelfluffbingo​

Word Count: 2800ish

A/N: This is part of my LLL universe - it takes place in December 2011 and Y/N and Seb just started dating. It can also be read as a one-shot just as always.  

Betaed by: @ifyougetkilled-walk-it-off​ - thank you, sis

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

You and Sebastian had gone out several times since the two of you had finally admitted how you felt. You had been ice skating, to a Christmas market, he had asked you over to help him decorate his place, and last Friday he had taken you to see a movie. This was your first movie night at your place since he had kissed you at his place two weeks ago. 

You were nervous as you looked in the mirror. You were wearing a deep blue lace bra with matching panties. You had showered using your favorite shower gel, cream, and shampoo. You had shaved every inch of your body even if you knew deep down it wouldn’t matter to Sebastian. You had curled your hair, letting it hang loose down the silk robe you were currently trying to decide if you wanted to tie or not. 

After tying and untying it a few times you decided it was best to have it closed. You didn’t want to overwhelm him or seem pushy. Or have one of your neighbors spot you in next to nothing when you opened the door for him for that matter. 

Your heart skipped a beat as your door phone rang and you gave yourself one last look in the mirror. The light make-up you were wearing framed your face perfectly and brought out your eyes. Your skin felt smooth and you felt amazing about yourself. You pictured the way Sebastian would look at you when he saw you and your smile widened as your confidence grew. 

You rushed barefoot down the stairs, clicking the mic on the door phone, greeting him. 

“Come on up, Seba,” you spoke, not waiting for him to say anything and smiled when he teased you for it. 

“What if you just let in a burglar, darlin’. Might wanna wait for a guy to say hello,” Sebastian’s voice sounded through the speakers. 

“Well, I haven’t opened the second door yet, so leave him out there would ya,” you giggled, causing Sebastian to laugh as you heard the door close behind him and you knew he was on his way up. 

Normally, you would have opened the door, before Sebastian had a chance to knock, but given what you were wearing, or weren’t wearing, today you waited. 

“It’s just me, Y/N/N. Burglar is sulking on the sidewalk, you can open the door,” Sebastian played as he knocked your front door. 

You took a deep breath, running your hands down your robe before opening the door, showing yourself to him. 

Sebastian’s mouth dried up when he saw you. He sure as hell hadn’t expected the sight that met him. You were absolutely breathtaking. You always were of course, but the amount of skin you were showing almost gave him a heart attack. 

“Fuck,” Sebastian muttered, still standing frozen outside the door. 

His eyes traveled your body before meeting yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle. The way he looked at you made your confidence soar, as you reached out grabbing his hand and pulling him inside. 

“Come on in. I can’t keep the door open all day dressed like this,” you laughed, which seemed to unfreeze your boyfriend. 

The door hadn't even closed behind the two of you before his hands were on you. He gripped your hips, pulling you into him and his lips crashed against yours. He kissed you like you were oxygen and he was a man suffocating. 

You were heaving for breath when Sebastian finally broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. He looked deeply into your eyes, as his hands gave your hips a small squeeze. 

“I take it you’re not in the mood for a movie then?” Sebastian tried to tease, as he swallowed thickly. 

You reached up running your hands through his hair, smiling when he momentarily closed his eyes enjoying your touch. 

“Maybe later,” you smiled, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Suddenly a wave of doubt crashed down on you. You didn’t usually do this sort of thing. You and Sebastian hadn’t had sex yet. Well, at least not in the past year. Not since the night, you had first met and before he had become your best friend. You had come on strong but the last thing you wanted was to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. 

“I mean, we can watch one now… if you don’t want too….” 

Sebastian smiled when you started rambling. He loved how easily you could switch between this confident sexy woman into a cute rambling mess and back again in a matter of seconds. He loved how you had thought of him getting ready, but all of a sudden was scared you were pushing him to move faster than he wanted. You weren’t. He had wanted this for a long time, so instead of answering, he let his hands slide down to your thighs, lifting you into the air. 

He laughed as you squealed in surprise, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. He backed you against the wall, kissing you deeply before you could say anything. The dazed look in your eyes, when he pulled back to let you both breathe, made his already hardening cock jump in his pants. He’d never seen a woman as gorgeous as you, and knowing the effect he had on you was absolutely intoxicating. 

“I want you. I want this. Us. So badly,” Sebastian confessed, groaning as your fingers dug into his shoulders with your words. 

“Take me upstairs, Seba,” you pleaded, wanting, needing his hands all over you. You wanted to feel him and for him to feel you. You never loved anyone as deeply and truly as you loved Sebastian and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him again and again as he walked you up the stairs. 

“Careful. Can’t see,” Sebastian laughed as he stumbled against the wall as he reached the top of the stairs. You laughed with him clinging to him, as you buried your face against his neck. 

“Don’t fall on me again,” you teased, playfully biting his neck as he walked through the door to your bedroom. You screamed in surprise as Sebastian suddenly tossed you onto the bed, causing you to bounce a few times on the mattress as he laughed at you.  

“Seb!” you scolded trying to keep the smile off your face, but you were sure you failed. It was very hard not to smile when a man that handsome was looking down at you as if you were his entire world. And was ridding himself of his jacket and shirts at the same time. 

“That’s what you get for being a smartass,” Sebastian winked at you, kicking off his shoes before crawling onto the bed, hovering over you with a smirk on his face. 

You ran your hands down his chest, around his sides, and up his back, attempting to draw him closer to you. Sebastian did as you silently begged, leaning down to kiss you. You stayed like that for ages. Just kissing and letting your hands wander without rushing for more. You could barely breathe from how good he made you feel a simple touch and his kiss. You knew he was good, but this was different. This wasn’t just about sex. It was about deepening your connection with him. It was to show him how deeply you loved him and have him show you the same in return.  

After almost half an hour making out with you Sebastian couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to take his time; to make you feel special and to show you how much he loved you. He slowly untied your robe, letting his hands gently caress your skin as he pulled back looking deeply into your eyes. 

“I love you, Y/N/N,” Sebastian whispered, before ducking down to kiss your neck, down the valley of your breasts, gently squeezing and them as he moved his lips down your stomach. 

“Seba…” you gasped when he pressed a kiss against your panties, gently hooking his fingers into the waistband. He looked up at you with a smirk on his face, but you knew he was also asking for permission. Just like you hadn’t wanted to push him, he was giving you an out. Just like he had over and over again that night so long ago. Sebastian was a good man and you knew without a shadow of a doubt one word would always make him stop no matter what. 

“Please,” you begged. “Seba, I need you.”

That was all the permission he needed and Sebastian slowly slid the panties down your legs. He shoved them into his back pocket with a wicked grin on his face, causing you to laugh and give his shoulder a push with your barefoot. 

“Perv,” you teased, giggling as he gripped your ankle holding your foot against him as he began kissing his way down your leg. 

“Only for you,” he winked, looking up at you as he reached his goal. His hot breath fanned over your cunt.

You gasped as he flattened his tongue running it over your lips. The knot in your stomach tightened as he continued his ministrations eating you out like a man starving, never once taking his eyes off you. 

The look in his eyes, dark with lust but so filled with emotions, love and adoration only added to your high. No man had ever looked at you like that and most certainly not when buried between your legs. 

Sebastian’s jeans felt uncomfortably tight as he watched you writhe and gasp beneath him. He didn’t care though. This wasn’t about him. It was about you. He wanted nothing more than to make you feel good; amazing. 

You screamed his name in ecstasy, trashing and gripping his hair as he pushed first one, then two fingers inside you, working your clit with his tongue. Your pleasure built and built until you couldn’t take it any longer. Your orgasm ripped through your body and white light blinded your vision. 

Sebastian kept his fingers inside you gently working you through your high as he kissed his way back up your body until he reached your lips. You moaned softly against his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him impossibly closer. 

Your body ached for him even harder than ever as you came down from your high. You needed to feel him. You ran your hands around his shoulders, down his chest, smiling as you felt his abs flex beneath your touch. 

“Off,” you mumbled against his lips as your hands started pulling at his belt, causing Sebastian to pull back with a laugh. 

“Still bossy huh?” Sebastian teased you as he gently removed his fingers from your cunt. You groaned half from the sudden emptiness you were feeling and half from his teasing. 

Sebastian only smiled, looking down at you. You were beautiful lying there on the bed in your bra, your robe half off and your hair a mess, glowing from your recent orgasm and eyes hungry for more as you watched him. 

He quickly undid his pants pushing them off along with his boxers and shorts. His cock jumped as you sat up reaching behind you, undoing your bra before tossing it onto the floor to join the rest of your clothes along with your robe. 

“Sweetheart...” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse as he watched you move to sit on the edge of the bed. You moved to sit directly in front of him on your knees.

You just smiled up at him, running your hands up his thighs as you leaning in kissing his cock. It proudly jumped under your lips and you grinned up at him as you gently took him into your hand. 

“Honey you don’t have too….” Sebastian started, closing his eyes from pleasure as you ran your tongue from the root to the tip of his cock before gently pulling back his foreskin. 

“I want, too. Let me?” You asked, looking up into his eyes and Sebastian gently cupped your face. 

He ran his thumb over your lips before he nodded and you smiled. You kept looking up at him as you flattened your tongue, running it up his cock a few times before taking him into your mouth. You sucked, causing Sebastian to gasp and his muscles to flex, struggling to keep still. 

The loving way you looked up at him along with the pleasure you brought him as you alternated between slowly bobbing your head up and down and sucking. It wasn’t until you released his cock with a wet pop, running your tongue over the slit his legs buckled and he almost blew his load right then and there. 

“Fuck! Jeez Y/N. You can’t do that if you don’t want to have to wash your hair,” Sebastian groaned, causing you to laugh. 

You lifted yourself up onto your knees. You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Charming, Seba,” you giggled as he groaned and pulled you tightly against him. 

The feeling of your soft skin and curves against his, did nothing to slow down the beat of his heart but he also didn’t care. He needed you badly. He pulled you into a bruising kiss, before slowly lowering you back onto the bed, following you down. He kept kissing you, loving the feel over your hands, running over his body anywhere you could reach, but he couldn’t hang on much longer. He needed to be inside you. 

“Y/N…” Sebastian gasped resting his forehead against hers, afraid that if he moved as much as an inch he would blow. 

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill and I’m safe. Are you?” you asked so sweetly as if you had no idea what your words were doing to him. As if you had no idea what your touch, your soft body beneath him and the way you looked at him was doing to him. 

“Yeah… I’m safe. Are you sure, darlin’?” Sebastian asked, gasping as you reached for him. He quickly reached for your wrist to stop you, kissing you. 

“Sorry… Let me… if you touch me I might…,” Sebastian started to explain, pulling a face at you when you started to giggle. You had no idea you had affected him that strongly and as much as you wanted to tease him about it, it also gave you a strange rush. This gorgeous, amazing sweet man, was so affected by you that he was afraid he was going to come too soon if you touched him again. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through his hair before kissing him again. 

“Make love to me Seba,” you asked, smiling as he leaned down to kiss you again. 

You gasped against his lips as he slowly sank into you. You stayed like that, kissing and gently caressing each other as you gave each other the time you needed to adjust. After a few minutes, Sebastian slowly began to move, rolling his hips against yours, never pulling out more than halfway before sinking back into you. You gasped against each other’s lips, no longer really kissing but breathing each other’s air as you looked deeply into his eyes. 

You never felt more connected, more loved than you did at that moment. When you came apart in his arms, Sebastian was mere seconds behind. His arms buckled and his weight crushed you, but you didn’t mind. His weight was as comforting as the feeling of his warm skin radiating against your own. 

It took a few minutes before he moved, but when he did it was to kiss your neck, your cheek, and your lips, causing you to giggle, before gasping as he gently pulled out. Sebastian rolled onto his back, pulling you with him into his arms and you more than willingly snuggled up to him. 

“Wow,” Sebastian breath, making you laugh and look up at him with a roll of your eyes. 

“Wow? Don’t be such a guy,” you teased, squealing when Sebastian pinched you butt, before shutting you up with a kiss. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he spoke softly, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“I love you too, Seba,” you snuggled up to him again resting your head over his heart, smiling as you felt it beat in the same rhythm as your own. 

“So… Movie Night naked in bed and pizza delivery?” Sebastian suggested, giving you a small squeeze as you laughed. 

“Only if you get the door,” you grinned looking up at him and Sebastian laughed. 

“Deal! I might have to borrow a sheet though.”

Reblogs spread my work and make me happy. Got a favorite part/line? Did something touch you? Do you relate in some way? Please tell me and make my day.  

Sebastian Stan Tag Team

@feelmyroarrrr​ @sleepretreat​ @roxyspearing​ @jewels2876​  @hellaqueerangelofthelord​ @danijimenezv​ @rumoured-whispers​ @becs-bunker​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @blacktithe7​ @grace-for-sale​ @averyrogers83​ @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​ @sorenmarie87​ @docharleythegeekqueen​ @erosbellarke​ @the-wayward-robot​ @super100012​ @myfanficlibrarium​ @winchesters-favorite-girl​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @igotkatiepowers​ @dottirose​ @deathofmissjackson​ @miraclesoflove​ @badassbaker​

[turtletimewriting]

TickleTober Day 11: Death Spot

Summary: There’s a new villain on the streets, and despite his friendly manner, he has found the most effective weapons! 

Note: This is inspired by fluffymary piece about a supervillain Patton! Just in case, this is shockingly a tickle fic! Not written as platonic or romantic so read either way! Ler Patton and Lee Roman, Logan and Virgil. 

_._._

Night fell upon Sanders City. The lights peering from the few windows did little but exaggerate how cold and dark the streets truly were. Streetlights had just flicked off. Families were now all settled into bed, waiting to fall asleep. The roar of an occasional car was the only sound that rumbled through the city. Yet, there was one man walking confidently through the streets. Clearly he had been doing this for years. 

This was Roman Prince, or simply just the Prince. The stark white of his hero costume looked a dark blue in the night, but his reflective red sash made him clear. He’d been protecting this city for going on two years now. His summoning abilities proving effective against any foe that dared set his sights against the city. 

But little did he know, there was another man walking around as well. 

The Prince paused once he circled round back into the town centre. He had only been circling around for fifteen minutes but somehow, someone had vandalised the entire main square. 

Toilet roll was flung pretty effectively to cover every inch on the place, there was chalk messages scrawled across many surfaces and there was one figure standing in the direct middle of the carnage. 

He was dressed... very casually. In a grey cat jumper with the hood drawn over his head, which perfectly showed off the jumper’s floppy grey cat ears. He was wearing a cat mask and seemed to be shivering in the cold a little. His hands sat in his hips. Everything about his pose screamed confidence but everything else screamed tired dad who wanted to go back to bed. 

Roman felt his stomach tighten. He couldn’t deal with fans at the moment. There had been rumours of another villain planning to run amok and he had to keep his eyes peeled. He was about to greet the man when the words died in his throat. What if this was a distraction! He stepped closer but now with his hands cupped in front of him, already summoning a perfect orb of water to protect himself. 

“Hello there! It’s a bit late to be out isn't it?” 

“It’s never to late for villainy, Prince!” The figure shouted back but didn't take any steps closer. Waiting for the prince to come to him.

“Easy there, that could be seen as uh a bit incriminating?” Roman was completely off guard. He didn't want to arrest the guy! He wanted to offer him his jacket and escort him home. But clearly he had done this... vandalism? But... real villains would use spray paint and break things.... cause actual damage. “I’m guessing you did all this then?”

“This city has had it easy for too long! It’s time Sanders got a better... Moral Compass!” The man now jumped forward. Roman could finally get a better look at him and every single first impression he had proved right. He had bouncy beautiful blond curls, partnered with a freckled face and him being a good few inches smaller than him all added up to the idea of this ‘villain’ being adorable. 

“I dunno… I feel like even on a good day that Fear Eater guy can give me the run around. I think Sanders has enough villains for the mean time.”

“Oh, you poor fool, Prince! You haven’t even asked what my grand plan is,” Moral Compass chuckled before slowly pulling out a weapon. It clearly wasn’t a normal gun. It glowed that same light blue as the chalk and he could hear it whirring away from where he was standing. “Meet my friend here, the death spot ray!” 

Roman frowned, he really didn’t want to fight this guy. He looked so unprepared for this. All Roman would have to do is throw that orb of water he still held and the man would be pushed back and soaked and even colder. Frozen cold water plus the October night would be quick to end to the fight. 

But even the title of death spot ray clearly screamed danger... he couldn’t afford to risk anything.

“I don’t want to fight! What are your demands?” Roman concentrated and prayed that Moral Compass wouldn’t see his new summon. It was more rushed than he’d like to admit but the last thing he’d want is his first impression to genuinely put people in danger. His summoned owl quickly appeared from his hands and he threw it behind him. Smiling when he finally heard it flap away into the night, he didn’t dare lift his eyes away from Moral Compass. 

“Demands? Oh um... Wait!” Moral Compass suddenly straightened before fumbling through the hoodie’s pockets, withdrawing a crumpled cluster of paper. “Oh yeah, Sanders City surrenders to me!” Roman waited a few moments to see if this was a list but no other response came. 

“Well. I can’t allow that Moral.”

“Then I demand you laugh!” 

Moral Compass thrusted the weapon upwards as he pulled the trigger. A sound went off and a cylinder of cyan blue quickly emptied but nothing was released. Roman had summoned a shield but frowned when nothing hit it. He waited a few more moments before peeking his head out the shield. 

Moral Compass stood there proudly with a wide smile. 

“Uh... hate to spoil the fun, but did it hit me?” Roman asked as he brushed down his costume. He wasn’t too panicked, he could hear the police sirens from the other side of the town. Good timing! 

“Oh you’ll see! You’ll become a laughing stock of the city Prince!” 

Well that wasn’t helpful but Roman brushed down his costume again, feeling a strange sensation run through him. Now, he wasn’t that much of an idiot, he knew what he was feeling was surely a result of the weapon. But for such a scarily named weapon, he expected more. He just kinda felt itchy. But he was also aware that the sensation was increasing slowly. 

From a faint sensation to a definite presence poking around his stomach. 

He huffed a sigh of relief once Logan finally got his act together and ran over. The summoned owl following after him. It wasn’t often that Roman wanted to drag police officers into his messes but he also knew better than to deal out his own punishments. And maybe also he liked the idea of someone having his back in case things went south.

“Prince! Any injuries?” Logan called before sliding to sit under Roman’s shield where he was also kneeling until he could gain a sense of what’s happening. 

“Uh, don’t thihink so...” He trailed off when he felt a stab of ticklishness shoot through him. Oh no... Death spot ray... Uh oh. “Um okay I know what he dhihihi heh did!”

“Prince?” Logan asked, now lifting his arms so he could at least double check the Prince’s abdomen since that’s what he was clutching. 

“No!” Roman cried out before feeling the laughter being punched from him. He was never good at hiding his laugh when people got his death spot. “HahahaHAAHAAHA!” 

Moral Compass smiled upon hearing that laughter. The laughter born from chaos and helplessness. He placed the weapon back in its holster and casually skipped over to the shield. 

“Okay? Right. Well, we need to get you out of here. There’s been reports of-” Logan started, pulling the Prince’s flailing arms around his neck but now this new bad guy was standing behind them. An excited, almost evil, grin started back at him. 

“Oh hello there officer! I just want to make a point here. Leave him be!” 

“Not a chance,” Logan snarled back and reached to grab his radio. Admittedly a tickle gun wasn’t dangerous but it was more if he had a tickle gun then what else could he have. But he didn't think about what that would look like from the villain’s perspective. 

He was shot with the bizarre weapon before he could even blink. 

Logan trusted his instinct and simply grabbed a hysterical Prince and ran for the car. But what started as confident running soon turned into dragging his feet like he had an itch. Before long, Logan was forced to a stop just right beside the police vehicle. “Heh! Uh, c’mon hah um Princeheheee!” 

“LOHOHAHAHAHAAA! MAHAKE IT STOHOHIAHAHA STOP!” Roman squealed, unable to focus on literally anything but the tickles digging into his ticklish tummy. Now that Logan was now hunching over, he slipped from his grip and fell on to the floor. Kicking his feet wildly like that would stop the frantic scribbling on his stomach. His face was a tomato at this point. 

“I cahahaaaaaaaa aAHAHAHAAHAAAHAHA! I CAN’T! HAHAHAA!” Logan finally gave in, there felt like they’re were fluffy brushes, light but firm tickles, swamping his feet. He leaned against the police car, hoping that he would at least stay on his feet. 

They were both laughing too hard to see the silhouette standing on a building overlooking the wrecked town square. A very familiar and dangerous silhouette...

“Now what’s going on h-”

“AH!” Moral Compass shrieked before firing blindly at the voice. 

Fear Eater stood there with an incredulous look on his face. “What was that for?”

“Oh! Fear Eater! Sorry! I uh just panicked?” Moral Compass now lowered the weapon. Finally sounding like how he looked. 

“You dare challenge me? You think you’re cut out for all this villainy stuff huh?” Fear Eater was clearly fuming but his hands were shaking and he was nervously looking away, “You wanna have an honest go at making a meaningful change to this city then you’re going to have to actually just try and steel your nerves. What a... what ar- What do you thihink you’re heh doing waving thahat thiihihihih hehahahahaahaaa!” 

Now, if Prince was under the influence of the all powerful death spot ray himself then this day would be the best day of his entire existence!

The all powerful Fear Eater, with his stupid edgy name and emo style, was curled up on the floor giggling away like a maniac! 

Now, if Fear Eater wasn’t currently laughing his ass off, he would have treasured this day for the rest of his life. 

The all powerful Prince, with his fake title and pompous style, was collapsed on the floor snorting away. 

But at the end of the day, all of them were being tickle tortured on their absolute death spots and it was only Moral Compass left standing. It was with way more people than he first intended, and his vandalism had kinda been forgotten, but he had achieved what he wanted. 

The heroes and villains of Sanders City now looked as ridiculous as they all acted.  

[sodamvelvets]

“best in the world”

son seungwan x fem reader 

word count: 1,860

warnings: one swear?

a/n: ahhhh, I kinda hate this one ngl, but I hope you all enjoy anyways! I hope to be releasing an Irene and then a Seulgi fic in the following weeks :D

Son Seungwan has always loved you, ever since the moment she laid eyes on you eight months ago, she knew her world would become all about you, and indeed it has. Every free second she has, her thoughts only ever seem to be about you. How she loves the way your body fits so perfectly with hers or your uncanny ability to always know just the thing to say to make the older girl smile even on her worst days. To Seungwan, you are the very definition of perfect. 

But lately, Wendy has been worrying that you don’t quite know how much she truly loves you, and maybe you’re beginning to lose interest in her. Don’t get her wrong though, it’s not because of anything you’re outwardly doing, in fact, you’re so perfect that it’s as Yerim puts it “devastating and sickening”. It’s just that sometimes Seungwan feels like a burden. It’s not exactly easy dating her, something she especially realizes whenever she goes on tour, leaving you alone in your Seoul apartment. Or the times when she returns to her dorm at one in the morning after staying late at the practice rooms to perfect her part, only to find you waiting sleepily in the kitchen with a soft smile, a gesture that is always oh so sweet of you but also makes Seungwan feel endlessly guilty. 

Her life as an idol has always made it hard to spend time with you, but whenever she can find that moment, she always makes sure to spoil you, taking you to lavish restaurants and buying you expensive gifts, because after all money isn’t really a problem for Seungwan. But despite this, Wendy still feels like she’s not quite doing enough, and that maybe you think she’s just trying to buy your affection when the reality is she’s simply worried that doing mundane things together like watching a movie or baking cookies will make you think she’s boring and want to leave her. 

You could do better, Seungwan believes, and you probably know that too. Which is why she finds herself sitting alone in the darkness of her Fukuoka hotel room, mindlessly singing along to her current favorite song, her members having left over an hour ago for a post-performance dinner that Wendy had politely declined. Seungwan had, of course, considered calling you, but eventually decided against it, knowing you probably have some form of work to do tonight and you’d most likely be better off without her distracting you. So instead she opted to lay down and plug in her earbuds, drowning herself in her favorite album, that, as usual, reminds her of you, and thus leading her down the rabbit hole of insecurities where she currently resides. 

She is so lost in her music and thoughts in fact, that she doesn’t quite hear the electronic click of the lock as her group leader, Joohyun, lets herself into the hotel room, and it isn’t until the older girl flicks the lights on causing Wendy to jump, that Seungwan realizes she’s no longer alone. 

“I figured you’d be hungry,” Irene says as she kicks off her shoes, holding up a bag of takeout and a pair of disposable chopsticks before gently setting it on the kitchen counter. “It’s spicy noodles.”

Wendy only smiles gratefully in response, truthfully feeling a little too anxious to eat, but still, she mumbles thanks to Joohyun, secretly touched by her leader’s thoughtfulness. And as Seungwan moves over slightly, feeling Joohyun sit down beside her, she can’t help but think to herself that you’d be much better off with someone like Joohyun. 

For a moment, the two sit in comfortable silence, Joohyun watching Wendy with furrowed brows, seemingly getting a read for the younger girl’s current state. 

“Seungwan,” Irene says slowly, rubbing her neck and looking at Wendy with a sort of worried smile. “Do you want to talk?”

Honestly, Wendy isn’t really all too surprised by Joohyun’s offer, she herself knows she’s been off all day, especially during their concert, where the blonde was much more reserved than usual, something her sometimes too perceptive leader was bound to notice.

And perhaps, Seungwan thinks to herself, she should talk about what she’s feeling because it wouldn’t hurt to do so, and besides, it wasn’t like it could go any worse than the last time when she made the mistake of going to Sooyoung about it, only to be promptly slapped upside the head and called an “overthinking pompous idiot”. 

So Wendy somewhat hesitantly tells Joohyun everything, and maybe Irene rolls her eyes when Seungwan isn’t looking because even the slightest mention of you not loving Wendy anymore makes Joohyun want to laugh aloud at her younger friends obliviousness. It is impossible, Irene thinks, that Seungwan has never once noticed the way you look at her with so much adoration as if Wendy herself personally hung every star in the night sky. But instead, like Sooyoung, Irene settles on calling Seungwan an idiot.

“Really Joohyun?” Wendy groans burying her head in her pillow. “I spill my heart out and that’s all you have to say?”

“I’m sorry,” Irene says with a laugh, placing her hand in Seungwan’s shoulder. “But there is just no way that girl doesn’t love you, she literally looks at you as if you’re an angel sent from above. Hell, just the other day she told Seulgi she wanted to marry you!”

Seungwan’s eyes widen. She’s at a loss for words. “Really?”

Joohyun chuckles, shaking her head in an exasperated way. “Yes, really. Y/n loves you, Wendy, so much, but if you’re worried she doesn’t know that you love her, then just tell her.”

Seungwan nods, suddenly hugging the older girl. “I will. Thank you, Joohyun.”

“You guys are so cute!” Wendy yelps as she tears herself out of Irene’s arms, eyes landing on Kang Seulgi, who is watching at the two with a bemused expression, before suddenly tackling Seungwan and tousling the blonde’s hair into a knotted mess, all as Joohyun cackles at her younger members’ childish behavior. 

“I really don’t miss sharing a room with you two,” Wendy mumbles, and Irene smacks the back of her head, causing Seulgi to laugh. 

///

Seungwan immediately smiles when she sees you. Despite the fact that you had texted her earlier that you would be waiting for her in her dorm, she can’t help the excitement that fills her stomach as she runs a hand through your hair, taking a moment to admire your sleeping form. “Y/N,” She whispers lowly, softly shaking you awake, her heart melting as your eyes blink open slowly. 

“Wendy!” You exclaim, the sleepiness lacing your body instantly gone as you launch yourself into Seungwan’s arms, causing the older girl to stumble back in shock at the sudden force, taking a moment to adjust herself as her hands move to support you at your waistline, while you rapidly place kisses everywhere you can. “I missed you so much!”

Wendy laughs heartily, hugging you tightly and nuzzling the top of your head before placing you back on her bed. She quickly climbs in beside you and rapidly moves to straddle you, a look of adoration filling her eyes as she hangs above you. You only giggle in response, Wendy’s blonde locks tickling your cheeks as she slowly leans down and captures your lips with her own in a slow and purposeful kiss. “I missed you more.” She breathes out, resting her forehead against yours, a lopsided grin spreading across her face. 

Your fingers reach up to gently trace her jawline and then down to the base of her neck, causing her to shiver as you tenderly pull her into you, shifting yourself so the two of you are laying face to face, noses just barely touching. “I doubt that,” You tease. “How was Japan?”

Wendy’s smile almost instantly fades into an expression of unsureness, as she remembers the night before. “Hey,” You say, alarmed by the change in the older girl’s mood. “What’s wrong?”

Wendy looks at you, her brown eyes filled with worry as she gently grabs your hands. “I guess,” The older girl closes her eyes for a moment searching for the right word. “It’s just, I love you so much y/n, and I’m sorry if I don’t say it enough, but I really want you to know that. I feel like I never have enough time for us, and that when I do, I’m always trying to spoil you and it makes it seem like I’m trying to purchase your love.” Wendy has started crying by now, and as hard as she tries, she can’t stop the mess of words spilling from her mouth as she continues to ramble. “But I promise it’s not like that, it’s just because of my job I can’t be with you as much as I want and I feel like I have to make up for that by always doing exciting things with you so you don’t get bored of me, but in reality, I really just want to like, bake some cookies together or something, and god y/n, I just love you so freaking much and every day I‘m so scared that I’ll lose you.” 

As Seungwan finishes, she finally looks at you in the eyes, which are filled with shock and something else she can’t quite read. “I’m so sorry.” Wendy quickly says, regretting her words. She laughs softly, clearly choking back a sob. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Your eyes widen, realizing she’s mistaken your dumbfounded silence as something else, and you find yourself pulling the older girl into your side, clutching her tightly as she begins to cry into your shoulder. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” You mumble, wiping her tears away and running your fingers through her hair. “Seungwan, I swear I will never leave you. I love you so much, not because of the things you buy me, but because of you. I promise you there was never even a single second where I thought you didn’t love me,” You chuckle suddenly, poking Seungwan’s side causing the older girl to giggle. “Plus let’s be real, If any of us should be worrying about not being good enough it should be me, you’re not only a gorgeous and talented woman but also one of Korea’s favorite idols, you could literally be with anyone but you chose me.”

Wendy laughs into your neck, unable to believe that you’re even real. “I wouldn’t choose anyone else Y/N.”

“Me neither.” Wendy's smile only widens as she feels you lightly press a kiss into her head. “And Honestly?” You say, moving so you can look Wendy in the eyes. “Baking cookies sounds fucking awesome.”

Wendy grins. “I have a day off tomorrow if you want to.”

You beam at her, nodding excitedly. “You, Son Seungwan,” you say, suddenly cupping the older girl's face, “Are the best in the world.”

And maybe it’s only your opinion, but as Wendy kisses you she realizes she doesn’t really care, because in the end, you’re the only one who’s word matters. 

[searchingwardrobes]

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 11/11

I can't believe we are at the end of this fic! I am immensely proud of it, and I am so thankful for those who were willing to go on the journey with me to re-imagine Someone to Watch Over Me. I feel like the original was just a germ of an idea, and this event gave me the courage to build an entire world around it. A world similar to canon, yet unique. World building has never been my strength, and this re-write stretched me and helped me grow. In that way, I am so thankful to the ladies in the csrt discord chat, especially @optomisticgirl​ who stepped in as one of my last minute betas. B, you are the queen of world-building, and you have no idea how many times you helped me in chats to work out my own world in this story! Character development was also a big challenge in this fic, and for that I thank @shippingtheswann​, my other beta. Emma and Killian's relationship wouldn't be as rich if not for you! And thank you to @distant-rose​ for helping me with the Lost Boys, the pirate crew, and the Neverland mythos. (If you ever need any info on pirates and ships, she's your girl!) I was nervous to take the story into some dark places, but you cheered me on and helped me trust my instincts. And of course, tons of thanks to the mods of this event at @captainswanbigbang​. I was contemplating abandoning this fic until I saw you were organizing this, so massive kudos for putting this on!

One final thing, and I'll shut up and get to the actual chapter. My original vision for this fic was to take it where people had been begging me to - with Emma reuniting with her parents and the fall out from that - yet with my own version of the Enchanted Forest and the curse. However, as I worked on the story, I realized I had bitten off way too much. Therefore, I decided to split up the story. Sooo, this isn't the end! There will be a part two, which I am already working on. I will not be posting it until it is complete. It is shorter than this story, however, so hopefully the wait won't be too long!

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons …

Rating: M for sexy times, violence, canonical character death, and attempted rape (all in previous chapters - this last chapter is mostly fluff)

Words: 6k and some change in this chapter

** Complete and updated every Monday** Also on Ao3

Emma and Killian: Age 24

When Emma was a little girl, she had found a book of fairy tale stories at the school library. Inside was a picture of a little cottage by the sea made of a hodgepodge of stones and a thatched roof, and rolling all around it were hills of soft grass. She can no longer remember what story the illustration accompanied, but she does remember how often she would stare at that picture, thinking how cozy the family must have been who lived in that house. She checked the book out every chance she got, and when she was moved yet again to a new foster family and a new school, she had committed a grievous sin: she had ripped the picture out of the library book.

Well, it had felt like a grievous sin to her seven year old self. Especially when the sweet librarian, Miss Stacy, had reminded them gently on numerous occasions of the proper way to treat the books. Ripping pages was definitely not the proper way.

Somewhere along the line, she had lost that ripped page. Yet here, below her now, nestled in the dip of the hills and facing the sea along the shores of Avalon, is that dream house of her childhood.

“Killian,” is all she can manage to say.

“Do you like it?” he asks, dipping his chin and scratching behind his ear. How can he be nervous giving her such a gift? Henry yells in delight and races down the hill towards the cottage.

Finally, she finds her voice again. “Like it? I dreamed of a house like this. When I was a kid.”

“Truly?” he asks incredulously, eyes bright with hope.

“Yes!” she exults, throwing her arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. She shakes her head as she pulls back, cupping his face with her hands. “But we can’t live here. Won’t you miss the sea?”

“A pirate ship is no place to raise our son, and besides . . . “ he pulls her closer to the quaint home. Once they crest the hill, the land levels out, and the view is breathtaking. “ . . . there’s the sea right at our back door,” he finishes with a wide grin.

“Mama,” Henry cries as he comes flying out the front door, “can I pick out my room? There are three. Cause I want the one upstairs. Can I have the one upstairs?”

Emma laughs at her son’s barrage of questions. Killian reaches down and scoops up the wriggling child.

“Sorry, my boy, but you’re mum gets first choice.” He successfully cuts off the lad’s whines by tickling him. Then he sets Henry down upon his feet and ruffles his hair. “In the meantime, why don’t you pick some flowers for your mother? The field over there is carpeted with them.”

Killian points west away from the sea, and Henry eagerly scampers off. Emma calls after him to be careful.

“Don’t go too far! Make sure you can still see the house!”

“He’ll be fine, Swan,” Killian assures her, pulling her inside the house. “He never fell overboard on the Jolly despite your worrying, now did he?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Haha, that really puts my mind at ease.”

Killian winks at her, then gives her a tour of the first floor, which is bigger than she would have expected. There’s a small foyer, then a formal sitting room to the right and a formal dining room to the left. At the end of the hall is a kitchen that opens up into a family room with a stone fireplace identical to the one in the parlor. Next to the stove in the kitchen is a door that opens out onto a patio with an even better view of the rocky sea below. Between the hallway and the kitchen is another door that leads into the master bedroom. The bed is tucked right beneath the window, and Emma can imagine falling asleep to the soothing sounds of the crashing waves.

“There’s no indoor plumbing like in your realm,” Killian explains as Emma circles the room, her hand skimming over the furnishings, “but there is a stream practically in our backyard, and the kitchen is large enough to put a tub in one corner.”

Emma pauses in her explorations and arches a brow at him. “You think I’m going to complain about a lack of plumbing after six months on the Jolly Roger?”

Killian manages another nervous laugh. “So you like it?”

She steps close to him, resting both of her palms on his chest. “I’m more worried if you’ll like it. You won’t miss the adventures at sea?”

“As I’ve said many times, piracy is ten percent adventure, ninety percent sheer boredom.” He lifts one of her hands and kisses it. “I’m ready for a life with you and Henry. I’m ready for the family I haven’t had since my mother passed.”

Tears well in Emma’s eyes. It’s still hard to believe sometimes that anyone would choose her, put her first. Yet this man isn’t just anyone, is he?

“Besides,” Killian says, thumbing her chin, “the Jolly still belongs to us.”

“But are you really satisfied turning her into a merchant ship? Is your crew?”

He draws her close, tucking her head beneath his chin. “Mason has always wanted to go to the naval academy, and with a year or two on a respectable merchant ship, he can. Hawkins wants to go to university, and Curly is looking at a plot of land to purchase and farm. Starkey has a sweetheart in Camelot, though he’s tried to hide it. As captain of my vessel, he can now ask for her hand. They’ve all grown up, Swan, and they have dreams and plans of their own.”

“And they’re loyal to their first captain,” Emma amends with a smile.

“I don’t know why.”

“I do,” she tells him, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “Are you sure you won’t get bored doing ledgers, placing orders, or whatever else merchants do?”

Killian shakes his head and bops her nose. “Quit doubting me, love! Besides,” he leans closer and stage whispers in her ear, “don’t tell anyone this, but I rather enjoy keeping the ledgers.”

Emma finds the nerd beneath his swashbuckling swagger incredibly sexy for some reason. “Well then,” she teases, stepping away from him to saunter over to the large bed. She grasps one of the bedposts and drapes herself around it in what she hopes is a sexy maneuver. “In that case, Mister Jones, maybe we should christen this bed.”

Killian growls and pounces, yanking her close and claiming her lips hungrily. Emma’s just dropped to the bed with a giggle when Henry comes pounding inside.

“Watcha doin?”

Emma almost falls to the floor in her haste to push Killian off her and jump to her feet. “Um, Papa’s just . . . tickling me.”

Killian chokes as he tries to hold back a laugh, but Henry is oblivious. Their son sticks out his hand, and clenched in his fist are a bunch of small yellow flowers.

“Oh, well, I did what Papa said and got you some flowers, Mama!”

“Buttercups!” Emma can’t help the tears that spill down her cheeks. “Thank you Henry!”

She picks up her son as Killian steps closer. He embraces both of them, brushing kisses to the tops of their heads.

“Welcome home, my loves,” he tells them.

******************************

After removing his boots by the door, Killian tiptoes through the cottage, the light of the full moon helping him avoid the furniture, Henry’s toys, and Emma’s shoes which she always leaves wherever she happens to kick them off. When he gets to the kitchen, he’s able to light a lamp so he can find the supper that Emma promised to leave on the stove. The Jolly was late coming into port, and going through the inventory took much longer than he had anticipated. Luckily, Emma is used by now to that most unpredictable of mistresses: the sea.

“Killian?”

The sound of his name is weak, yet he can still make it out on the other side of their bedroom door. He crosses to the bedroom, opening the door as quietly as possible. Emma’s curled up on the bed, her hair lit gold by the moon, and she’s so still he thinks maybe he didn’t hear her after all. He wants to reach out and touch her, yet he doesn’t want to wake her.

“Killian? Killian?”

She stirs slightly, but it’s clear she is still half asleep as she mumbles his name.

“Aye love, it’s me.”

“Killian?”

“Yes?” He touches her lightly through the blankets.

She says his name a few more times, like a question, and he can’t help smiling at how disoriented she is. He’s learned over the past year that she does in fact talk in her sleep. She finally seems satisfied that he’s here, and that he’s Killian. Her body relaxes and she mumbles good on a sigh. He pats her gently again and turns to go, but before he can, she reaches out and manages to find his hook in the dark.

“But you’re not leaving?” she asks, still in that sleepy voice.

The question makes his heart swell. “No love, I’m not leaving.”

“Henry’s not leaving?”

He lifts his hook and brushes his lips across her hand, which clings to the metal tightly. “No, Swan.”

She lets out a little shudder and releases his hook. He bends, brushes a kiss to her brow, then turns back to the kitchen.

“Killian, have we done this before?”

The question has him frozen with his hand on the doorknob. He isn’t sure what she means by the question.

“I only just got home, Emma,” he tells her gently.

“Oh,” she murmurs, sleep finally beginning to claim her fully and slurring her words. “I guess I dreamed it, then.”

Killian tiptoes out and slowly closes the door behind him. He chuckles to himself as he sits down at the table with the food Emma had left on the stove. Yet as he takes a bite of the roast on his plate, he sobers. He hates the fears that sometimes plague Emma. He wonders how long it will take for the love in their little home to ease them.

******************************

Killian awakes the next morning to the banging of pots and pans, sometimes punctuated by curses in their small kitchen. He may have had second thoughts about the location of the master bedroom if he had been aware of the fact that Emma was completely incapable of moving about quietly.

“Can I have more strawberries, Mama?” Henry calls out, far louder than necessary, and Killian groans as he shoves the pillow over his head.

“Shhh,” Emma admonishes, in the exact same volume as their son, “you’ll wake up Papa.”

“Why’s he not up? He said he’d bring home more paper for me.”

“You know the ship doesn’t always arrive on time. Now eat.”

Killian flings aside the pillow with a sigh, knowing that getting any more shut eye is impossible. Yet as he buckles his brace and slips into his shirt, he only feels joy well inside his chest. He did get Henry more paper for his scribbles, and he can’t wait to hear what tall tales the lad will weave next. He can’t, at only six, truly write yet, but he feels with fatherly pride that it’s merely a prelude of what is to come.

Once he’s dressed, he grabs the parcels wrapped in brown paper and string that he’d hidden in the nightstand before he went to bed. He tucks them under his hooked arm, then bursts through the bedroom door. “Making an entrance,” as Emma would say.

“Papa!” Henry cries out, tossing aside his fork and jumping up from the kitchen table.

“Killian!” Emma admonishes, turning from the stove with a spatula in her hand. “I was trying to let you sleep.”

“A pointless endeavor, love,” he quips with a wink. Emma rolls her eyes and turns back to the stove. Henry leaps onto his back, trying to grab the parcels.

“Whaddya get me, Papa?”

“Well, get off me, you little monkey, and I’ll show you.” Henry slides to the floor, and Killian hands him the largest parcel. “Paper, as requested.”

“Yay! But what’s the other one?”

Killian hands him the small, compact, rectangular package and grins as Henry rips into it. The paper falls away to reveal a leather bound book with beautiful gilt-edged pages and hand painted illustrations in deep hues.

“That, my boy, is a book of tales from Agrabah where the air smells like spices and the sultanese keeps a tiger for a pet!”

“Wow! Will you read it to me right now?”

Killian glances over his shoulder at his wife. “Not until after you eat your breakfast.”

He ruffles Henry’s hair, and the boy obeys. Killian turns to the stove where Emma is purposefully keeping her back to him, though he can’t fathom why. He saunters up behind her and leans over her shoulder, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair.

“Mmm, something smells delicious.”

“It’s just pancakes,” she retorts, but she is unable to hide her smile.

“I wasn’t talking about breakfast,” he growls lower against her skin. He feels her shiver beneath him, but when he tries to grab her around the waist, she dodges him. She grabs the plate of pancakes and carries them to the table.

“Eat them before they get cold,” she says with forced cheerfulness, and he frowns. She sits next to Henry, sliding a pancake onto the boy’s plate, and Killian sits as well.

“I got you something too,” he tells her, sliding a small parcel across the table with his hook.

Emma still refuses to meet his gaze, fiddling with the string around the square package that could fit in the palm of her hand. “You know I never need anything but you.”

“Yet a man likes to spoil his bride. Go ahead, open it.”

She glances up at him from beneath her lashes, then tears into the paper with a tentative smile. It falls away to reveal a small velvet box, and Emma gasps before she’s even lifted the lid. When she does finally open it with trembling fingers, she breathes out his name. Killian slides off his chair and falls to his knees next to her. He pulls the gold ring with its simple jade stone reverently from the velvet and slides it onto the ring finger of her left hand.

“I promised you I would get you a ring the day we wed, remember?”

Emma nods, staring at the gem and turning it in the light.

“I know diamonds are the usual choice, but this immediately made me think of your eyes. Then the gold like your hair . . . “ he trails off worriedly. “Emma?”

She looks up at him finally - and promptly bursts into tears. Killian glances at Henry worriedly.

“Take your breakfast outside on the patio, okay?”

Henry nods and scurries off without argument, his brown eyes wide as he glances at his mother. Killian rubs his wife’s back and whispers soothing words, most of them nonsense. He hands Emma his handkerchief, and she wipes it across her eyes, then blows her nose loudly. She cocks her head at him, and the words out of her mouth are the last ones he expected.

“Did we have a conversation when you came home last night?”

“Um . . . yes, love. You said my name about a hundred times then asked if I was staying.”

Emma nods, twisting his handkerchief in her hands. “I thought so. Did I ask if we’d done this before?”

Killian laughs and rubs her back again. “Yes, you did. I wasn’t sure if you meant last night, our entire marriage, or since we were ten.”

Emma nods, but says nothing. He’s entirely confused. It isn’t like Emma to cry out of nowhere. Or refuse to look at him. Or dodge his touch. He’s beginning to become concerned, truth be told.

“If you don’t like the ring -”

“Of course I like it! It’s perfect!”

“What then?”

“Oh God,” Emma pants, hugging her middle and looking up at the ceiling. “Last night, I dreamed about this conversation. In my dream - my nightmare - you got angry and left.”

Killian’s brow furrows. “I can assure you, Swan, nothing you can tell me would ever make me leave.”

She levels him with a steady gaze. “You used to. Through the wardrobe.” He starts to open his mouth, but she lifts her hand to stop him. “I know it wasn’t intentional, and I’m not blaming you, I just . . . I just . . .”

He grasps her hand firmly in his. “Breathe, love, it’s okay. You just get scared sometimes. It’s okay. So do I.”

“You do?” her voice sounds so small and fragile that it breaks his heart.

“Aye, of course. It has nothing to do with love or trust. The wounds of childhood tend to linger.”

“But I do trust you!” she exclaims.

He draws nearer and cups her cheek. “I know that. That’s my point entirely. The fears are irrational, for both of us. Now, what is it you have to tell -”

He stills when Emma takes his hand and places it on her abdomen. It’s different somehow, and he freezes. He had noticed the last time they made love, but couldn’t quite put his finger on the change. Now he gazes into Emma’s blushing face - how had he not noticed the sudden roundness in her cheeks? The pieces begin to fall into place - her fatigue lately, that illness that seemed to linger far too long . . .

“Emma, are you . . . “

She nods, her eyes welling up with tears again. Her tears - of course! He swallows thickly.

“Emma you’re . . . “

She grins wider, cocking her head saucily. “I’m rather proud that I’ve rendered you speechless. I think the word you’re looking for is pregnant.”

A grin fills his face, a goofy, joyous grin. “Well, I was going to say with child, actually.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course you were, my old fashioned sailor who -”

He cuts her off with a passionate kiss, and when it ends, he scoops her up and spins her around with joy.

“Careful there, buddy. The morning sickness is mostly gone, but I make no promises that I won’t puke on you.”

“Wait,” he says, shaking his head, “how long have you known about this?”

“Well,” she hedges, “this realm doesn’t exactly have a stick you can pee on.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs, “Never mind. Let’s just say it took me awhile to figure it out, and then it took me a bit longer to get up the nerve to tell you. I’d say I’m at least twelve weeks along, probably more.”

Killian cups her face with his hand and locks his eyes intently on hers. “Do you honestly believe I would leave you over this?”

She bites her lower lip and shakes her head.

“Can’t you see now how happy this makes me?”

“Well,” she says with a shrug, “you spinning me around the kitchen sort of convinced me, I guess.”

He throws his head back and laughs before kissing her soundly again. But he doesn't do any more spinning.

No sense testing fate.

***************************

“I’m sorry, Captain Jones, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The midwife has the audacity to grab Kilian by the arm and try to forcibly remove him from his own bedroom. On the bed, Emma is crying out as her next contraction hits.

“I’m not leaving,” Killian says firmly.

“It isn’t proper for a man to be present,” the midwife argues, though her words are almost drowned out by Emma’s cries.

“Bullshit,” Emma interrupts the argument, her breaths coming raggedly as her

birthing pains abate for the moment.

“Mrs. Jones, it just isn’t done,” the midwife snaps back, aghast.

“Well it is in the realm I come from,” Emma tells her, “not to mention the whole

impropriety thing is ridiculous. He’s obviously intimately familiar with my vagina.”

The midwife���s eyes grow impossibly large, and Killian can’t stop the chuckle that escapes him.

“Mrs Jones! It isn’t ladylike to -”

“Yeah, well ladylike has never described me anyway.”

The midwife presses her lips together in a disapproving way as she draws closer to the bed. She lowers her voice, but the woman is seventy-three and hard of hearing, so Killian can hear every word.

“I’m aware that your husband isn’t the biological father of your son, so I’m going to assume this is a bit new to you. If your husband sees you in this state, well . . . it may . . . turn him away from you, if you catch my meaning.”

Emma’s face turns a deeper shade of red that has nothing to do with her labor, and her eyes blaze in a way Killian knows well. He grins wider, knowing that his wife is about to render this woman speechless.

“My husband wasn’t complaining about my pussy when he was between my thighs last night, so I think I’m safe.”

Yep, speechless. Killian can’t help winking at the midwife as he saunters past her. The woman looks like she might faint. Killian kneels beside the bed and brushes a kiss to Emma’s forehead. Her face crumples as she clutches desperately at his hand.

“She was trying to make you leave!”

“Nothing could tear me away, love.”

“Oh God!” Emma yells, drawing her knees up as another contraction rolls through her. Emma releases Killian’s hand and grabs onto his hook instead as she groans in pain. This one is stronger than the last, and just as Killian is about to lose his mind because he can’t help her, she collapses against the mattress.

“I didn’t want to break your one good hand,” she tells him with a wane smile.

“I appreciate that,” he quips back with a lopsided grin.

The midwife has pushed the sheets back and is examining Emma. “Well, Mrs. Jones, your contractions are longer and closer together, but the baby isn’t crowning yet. We’ve got a while still.”

Emma whimpers and shakes her head. “It didn’t take this long when Henry came.”

Killian puts his arm around her and whispers that he loves her. She drops her head wearily to his chest, and he kisses her sweaty brow. Another hour goes by the same way, and it feels like time has stopped altogether. Killian feels her labor is unceasing, so he can’t imagine what it must be like for her. Though she’s clearly exhausted, he’s amazed at her strength.

“I see the head!” the midwife finally says excitedly, and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. “Can you push for me when the next contraction hits, Emma?”

The look on his wife’s face is full of determination as she draws her knees up. He sees her tense when the pain comes again, but she bears down with a scream. She has to do the same thing again, and again, and yet again before the midwife laughs out that the baby’s head is out. The midwife shocks him when she pushes back the sheets further and asks if he wants to see. Killian does, and he blinks back tears when he sees their baby.

“It’s almost over, Emma,” he encourages her.

Emma pushes a few more times, and finally, cries fill the air. Emma laughs even as she collapses in exhaustion. Killian kisses her and murmurs over and over how bloody brilliant she is.

“It’s a girl!” the midwife announces as she rubs the baby down with salt to fend off infection.

“A girl,” Kilian breathes and kisses his wife again.

The midwife then washes the baby off with the water Killian had boiled for her hours ago. The little thing is red, screaming, and oh so tiny, but the midwife is all business as she cleans her up and wraps her in a blanket. The woman only softens when she gently places the baby girl in Emma’s arms.

“Oh Killian, she’s so beautiful,” Emma whispers as she brushes her fingers over the baby’s cheeks.

Killian lays down sideways on the bed next to his wife and gazes in wonder down at the tiny baby. She has a tuft of dark hair on her head, and her skin is damp and feather soft beneath his fingers. She’s ceased her crying, her eyes wide as she gazes up at Emma, as if she recognizes her mother instantly.

“She has your eyes,” Emma whispers with a smile.

“And your chin and nose,” Killian adds.

“And your ears,” Emma says, her thumb tracing over them.

“Poor thing.”

“Hey,” Emma admonishes, tearing her gaze away from the baby, “I love your ears.”

They just gaze down at her for several moments, Killian grinning broadly when the baby’s tiny fingers wrap around his pinkie. A tear slips down his face, and Emma reaches up to wipe it away.

“Do you want to hold her, Papa?”

He can only nod, his emotions overwhelming him. He gathers the bundle into his arms, holding her close to his chest and out of the way of his hook.

“What shall we name her, Swan?”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot, actually. I sort of had a feeling she was a girl, and well . . . there’s only one name that seems fitting. A name that I will always associate with love and home.”

“I know exactly what you’re referring to, my love, and I think it’s absolutely perfect.”

There’s a soft knock at the door, and they both turn their heads to see Starkey in the doorway with Henry in tow. Kilian grins.

“Henry, would you like to come meet your baby sister Martha?”

Henry’s eyes are wide as he draws closer to the bed. Emma reaches out and encourages her son to climb up and join them. He settles in next to his mother and leans over to look at the baby.

“She’s pink,” he observes, and they laugh.

“She won’t be forever,” Killian explains, “all babies are that way at first.”

“Even me?”

“Yes,” Emma teases, kissing his cheek, “even you.”

Henry gets bored of the baby fairly quickly and asks if he can go back down to the beach with Starkey. After he leaves, Emma and Killian cuddle together to love on Martha, until she starts to fuss.

“Okay,” the midwife says briskly, “Papa needs to leave so Mama can nurse.”

She let’s Killian stay the minute she sees Emma’s scowl.

Emma and Killian: Age 28

“Papa, again, again!”

Killian laughs as his three-year-old daughter makes futile attempts to move the rocking horse back and forth. “Okay, okay, anything for my cygnet.” He presses his hook down on the horse’s tail, setting it in motion again as his little girl squeals with delight.

Emma laughs too from her chair by the fireplace. “That’s the truth. You know the kids don’t need you to bring gifts every time you’re away.”

“It’s part of the inventory I own, love, I can do what I please with it.”

“You spoil us.”

“Happily.”

He winks at his wife as she settles back into her chair and sips contentedly on her mug of hot chocolate - another gift from his latest shipment. Business is booming with the addition of a second ship. Starkey is still the captain of the Jolly while Nibs has taken the helm of the Jewel II. The Jolly is what sets Killian’s business apart, however. With the pegasus sail, it’s able to bring exotic goods from far away realms that no other merchants can acquire. Though Hawkins, Mason, and Curly all left to pursue their respective dreams, Killian had no trouble replacing them nor acquiring a crew for Captain Nibs. Jones Shipping has developed a reputation for treating their sailors well, and Killian has been able to hire the very best at sea.

The Jones family enjoys frequent trips on the Jolly as well, with renovated accommodations that Killian made specifically to make his family more comfortable. Henry and Martha are just as content at sea as they are on land, though this little cottage of theirs is always a joy to come home to.

Killian continues to rock Martha on her new toy as his gaze lands on Henry, now nine years old. As usual, he wanted more paper and pencils, which he goes through at an alarming pace. His writing is incredibly engaging and complex for a boy his age, and Killian couldn’t be more proud. Henry’s no slouch behind the wheel of the Jolly, either, and can read the stars as well as any of Killian’s crew. No father has ever been more blessed than he.

Their domestic evening scene is disrupted by a knock at the door. Emma frowns as she rises to her feet, setting her mug down on the coffee table.

“Who could that be?”

When Emma opens the door, she lets out a pleasantly surprised gasp to find Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily standing there. Despite Martha’s protests, Killian joins Emma at the door with his little girl balanced on his hip. There’s the typical round of greetings, hugs, and exclamations over how much the children have grown, but Emma and Killian both get the feeling this isn’t just a social visit. Not at this time of day, and not by the looks of those nervous expressions on the fairies’ faces.

“I just brought home cocoa and tea from Agrabah,” Killian tells his old friends. “Would you like some?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Tiger Lily says, “tea for me, please.”

“I’ll take some cocoa,” Tink adds, “remember how Wendy used to love it?”

“Yes, she sure did,” Killan says, his mind going back in time to a frightened little girl with leaves in her hair. He hopes wherever she is, that Wendy is happy.

“Um, Henry,” Emma says slowly, “why don’t you take Martha upstairs with her new rocking horse?”

Killian holds his breath for the lad to protest. His baby sister in his room isn’t his favorite thing in the world, but the boy must pick up on the tension radiating off the fairies because he immediately agrees.

“Come on, Martha,” Henry tells her as he hoists up the rocking horse, “I bet I can rock you even faster than Papa.”

Martha squeals in delight and eagerly follows the big brother she idolizes up the stairs. Emma settles in at the kitchen table with the fairies while Killian goes to the stove.

“What’s this all about?”

That’s his wife, direct as always. Tiger Lily sighs and cuts a quick glance over to Tink.

“Emma . . . “ she says slowly.

“We found your parents!” Tink interrupts, practically vibrating with excitement. Tiger Lily rolls her eyes.

“What?” Emm breathes, and Killian abandons the tea pot to rush to her side and take her hand. “Are you sure?”

“Well, lost princesses are more common than you might think,” Tiger Lily says dryly, “but in the case of the lost princess of Misthaven, it all adds up.”

“Adds up to you, Emma,” Tink put in. “The birthmark, the princess’s birthdate, the wardrobe - all of it!”

“Wait,’ Killian interjects, “did you just say wardrobe?”

He’s cut off by the whistling of the teapot, and he goes quickly to retrieve it from the stove.

“I think we need to start from the beginning, Tink,” Tiger Lily says as Killian sets out the tea and cocoa on the table. When he joins the women, he draws his chair as close as he can to his wife so he can put his arm around her and take her hand.

“You may have heard the tales about Snow White, her Prince Charming, and their battles with the Evil Queen,” Tiger Lily begins.

“Snow White and Prince Charming?” Emma asks. “You mean they’re real?”

“Says the woman married to Captain Hook and having tea with Tinkerbell and Tiger Lily,” Killian quips, earning him an eye roll from his wife. She’s told him the version of Neverland in her former realm - a ridiculous version, in his opinion.

“Yes, they’re real, silly,” Tink says with a shake of her blond curls.

“I’ve heard of them,” Killian says, “go on.”

“Well,” Tiger Lily continues, “you may have heard that though they banished the Evil Queen after taking back the kingdom, she returned when Snow was with child. She cursed the baby with an evil spell.”

“Yes,” Killian says with a shake of his head, “and it came to pass. The child came too soon and died.”

“No, she did come too soon, but the child did not die. Secretly, the Blue Fairy helped the court woodworker fashion an enchanted wardrobe -”

Emma gasps and clutches her husband’s hand tighter. “Killian! A wardrobe!”

“I know, love,” he whispers.

“The wardrobe was supposed to send Snow safely to a land without magic where the curse couldn’t touch the unborn child,” Tiger Lily says.

“It could only carry one,” Tink clarifies.

“But the baby came too soon, so they had no choice but to send the child through alone. The Evil Queen and her minions were mounting an attack on the castle, so they had no more time.”

Killian nods. “I’ve heard of that battle. It’s a favorite tale in every realm, though not one with a happy ending. The Evil Queen was slain, and everyone was led to believe that in the chaos, Queen Snow lost the child.”

“And you believe this baby was me?” Emma asks softly.

Tiger Lily reaches across the table and gently turns over Emma’s left wrist. “The Blue Fairy cast a spell over you in the womb so that when you were born, this mark would be upon you. So your parents would know you when you found them.”

Emma’s eyes well up with tears. “How did they know I would ever find them?”

“They had faith and hope. Even with the Evil Queen dead, her curse still remained until your 21st birthday.”

Tink jumps in, bouncing on her seat. “The best part, Tiger Lily, tell them the best part!”

Tiger Lily smiles indulgently at the blonde. “I think you’d like to tell them, so go ahead.”

“The Rose Fairy imparted a gift to you, Emma - that the wardrobe would bring you your true love, and that when the time was right, he would lead you home.”

Emma turns to Killian, her eyes bright with tears as she cups his face. “Our wardrobe, Killian, that’s why it appeared to us.”

He shakes his head in wonder. “Emma, I know how you feel about me, but true love? That’s the strongest magic of all. Surely someone more worthy . . . “

Emma’s face softens as tears slip free and roll down her cheeks. “Don’t you see? The wardrobe brought us together right when we needed one another the most. Right before I lost Martha, right before you lost your brother and Milah. Then it brought us together for good when you found Henry.”

Killian lets out a breath of wonder as Emma’s thumb traces the scar on his cheek. “We always find one another, don’t we?”

Tiger Lily and Tink both beam as they speak again.

“It’s funny you should say that -”

“Because it’s kind of your family motto.”

To Be Continued . . . . 😉

Tagging: @snowbellewells​​​​  @kmomof4​​​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​​​ @teamhook​​​​ @bethacaciakay​​​​ @let-it-raines​​​​ @welllpthisishappening​​​​ @wellhellotragic​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​​ @xhookswenchx​​​​ @courtorderedcake​​​​ @branlovestowrite​​​​ @hollyethecurious​​​​ @vvbooklady1256​​​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​​​ @carpedzem​​​​ @ekr032-blog-blog​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​ @spartanguard​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​ @scientificapricot​​​​​ @stahlop​​​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​​​​ @snidgetsafan​​​​​ @ohmakemeahercules​​​​​ @thislassishooked​​​​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​​ @nikkiemms​​​​​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​​

[chuckbass-love]

Why Him? | Ransom Drysdale | Part 5

A/N : I’ll be uploading a masterlist for this fic once i’ve uploaded part 6 as this is going to be at least 20 or more parts and it’ll be easier to have all the parts in one place. 

Disclaimer: My work is not to be reposted anywhere else other than my Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3. However, reblogs are welcome.

Why Him? MASTERLIST

Warning: SMUT

*LAST DAY OF FASHION WEEK*

Claudia’s POV

As i finish up dressing this mode, i feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket, i pull it out to reveal a text from Ransom. I smile as i see his name upon my screen ‘Hi doll, just wanted to check if you’re coming to the afterparty tonight x’ i blush at the nickname before typing my reply ‘i have an early flight back to Boston tomorrow so i can only stay for a lil while but yes x’ send. I put my phone back into my pocket and start organising the models in number order for the show.

I can’t believe it, i have almost made it through my first New York Fashion Week. From start to finish, it’s been hectic and challenging but i needed this to push me. This experience has really opened up and boosted major future opportunities for me to pursue in the future.

The show starts and i send the models out one by one, being careful to get every one correct. I’ve also made it to the end of the week with no fuck ups. Thank the Lord. It’s time to go out onto the runway but i avoid it. I want to get a head start on clearing up so i can get out on time. Once everyone is backstage it’s all hands on deck to get everything cleared away. 

I grab my bag once we finish and say my goodbyes to everyone, making sure to thank them for this opportunity. This truly has been an experience. I head out the front and see Ransom sat there. I thought i was meeting him at the party. “Hey” i say in confusion “I figured we should head to the party together you know save money on cab fairs and all that” i nod before taking his much larger hand in mine. 

We arrive and Ransom instantly takes two flutes of champagne, handing one to me. “What time is your flight tomorrow?” he asks, sipping his drink “6am” my eyes widen when i check the time, it’s already 10:30pm. I can probably only afford to stay here for an hour at most. “So where are your friends?” he looks around the room, shaking his head and gesturing for me to turn around. His friends are on the dance floor, grinding with some models. I’ve not met his friends but from what Ransom told me the other night and from what i’m witnessing now. They look like a couple of jokers.

We finish our drinks and i lead him onto to the dance floor. He places his hands on my waist as he stands behind me, i start to sway my hips, purposely grinding my ass into him. I’m having way too much fun. I get caught up with the music when i feel a hot breath on the back of my neck “You’re such a tease doll” he whispers. Making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck “I know” my smug smile coming out to play now. I shoot him a wink. I can see his eyes turn dark with hunger. I brush it off and continue to dance. Song after song, making him want me more and more.

I don’t give it up easily and Ransom is no exception. But he sure does make it difficult to keep to my rules. This is merely me building the sexual tension. I pull my phone out of my bag and notice the time. 11:45pm. SHIT.  “I have to go” i lean closer to his ear so he can hear me. He motions for me to wait there as he walks over to his friends. I’m assuming to tell them he’s leaving. Once he returns we exit the party. I hold onto his hand as we walk towards a cab.

Ransom gives the cabbie the name of my hotel and he speeds off instantly. I can feel the tension, i’ve done nothing but tease him all night, i can see it in his eyes. His cheeks are flushed and he’s fiddling with his pinky ring. He pays the guy and then opens the cab door open for me. When we reach my room i turn to face him. I never sleep with guys this early on. He looks down at me with those eyes, making my legs turn to jelly. “I best get to bed now Ransom” i state, turning round to open my door but he stops me. Turning me back to face him “You can’t just tease me like that and then leave” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “And why not?” placing my hands on my hips in a sassy motion, raising my eyebrows at him.

He leans down and connect his lips to mine, almost making me forget my rules. I place my hands on his chest, slowly pushing him away. “We can’t do this now” he just stares down at me ‘If you’re worried about me leaving afterwards and never hearing from me again then stop. I have no intention of going anywhere” he’s saying all the right things. Kissing me once again “I just don’t wanna rush this” he leans his forehead on mine. I take a deep breath out. Maybe i am too worried about him leaving me. If he leaves he leaves but i need to trust that he won’t. I want this so much and i think it’s about time i lived in the moment. With that thought, i look deep into his eyes and crash my lips to his. He takes the key card from me as we continue kissing, only breaking so he can open the door.

He walks me backwards into the room, kicking the door shut as we start to discard items of clothing, leaving a trail from the door to the bed until we are only in our underwear. His lips feel so good against mine. We’ve only been on two dates hence my concerns on doing this now. But it feels so right. He reaches behind me, tapping my naked thighs signalling for me to jump. I do as i’m told. Wrapping my legs around his muscly torso, grabbing onto his arms first before moving them loosely around his neck. 

“You have no idea how long i’ve wanted to have you under me like this” he whispers as he lays me down onto the bed. He leans down to kiss my neck, biting it in the process “Marking your territory Drysdale?” i push him away so he can look at me “Dam right i am”. 

He kisses from my lips to my chest, i lift up slightly so he can unhook my bra. He throws it to the floor and leans back to take in all of me “Your body. Wow. Just wow” i giggle. His hands settle on the hem of my panties. “You won’t be needing these anymore” i lift my ass off the bed so he can slide them off. I immediately shut my legs, getting insecure about how i look. Don’t get me wrong, i’m shaven and clean i just always get insecure about how my body looks. 

He parts my legs “Don’t start hiding from me now doll” i bite my lip as i watch his eyes stare. “Such a pretty pussy baby” his voice deepens. I hide my face with my hands in a sudden wave of embarrassment. He notices and pulls my hands away. He gets off the bed to rid himself of his boxers and my eyes grow wide. He’s so big. I’m a little scared. He looks down at his erection and back up to me “Like what you see doll” i nod, unaware that the worried look on my face is showing. 

He picks up his coat, taking a condom out of one of the pockets. He came prepared. He hovers over me, one hand at the side of my head and the other starts rubbing my clit suddenly, making my body jolt under his touch. “Fuck Ransom” i cry out in pleasure. He slides his fingers in between my folds, feeling the pool of wetness that he caused. “So wet for me already i see” he smirks as he lays on his stomach, his head inching closer to my sex. 

“Let’s see if you taste as good as you look” my whole body goes into over drive as i feel his tongue all over my pussy. Sucking on my clit one second and fucking me with his tongue the next. This can’t be real. “OMG” i scream out, not giving a shit how loud i’m being. “You like that doll, like it when i eat your pussy like this” i prop myself up on my elbows as i watch him, he doesn’t break eye contact for a second. “That’s it, look into my eyes. I wanna see that pretty little face when you cum on my tongue” his words, sending me over the edge. “Don’t stop I’m gonna cum” and with one last suck on my clit, my orgasm washes over me like a tsunami. Shit. I throw my head back, falling down onto the bed. Running my fingers through his hair, tugging at it. 

He makes his way back up to my face, looking me in the eyes. I pull him into a heated kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. “Fuck me, that was amazing” i pant. He definitely has unmatched skills. “What can i say? I know my way around a pussy” i giggle at his joke as he picks up the condom, “Now normally i’d take even longer to tease you before i fuck you but seeing as it’s 12:30am and you need to be up in a few hours. I’m gonna skip straight to the fucking” he slides the condom down onto his large size. He lifts my legs up slightly, wrapping them around his torso, lining himself up with my entrance. 

“You ready doll?” i give him the go ahead and he slams into me, not giving me a chance to get adjust to his size. “FUCK” i dig my nails into his back as he continues to thrust in and out of me at a fast pace. “You’re taking me so well baby doll” he grunts, slamming into me harder than the last time. “That’s it. Take. This. Dick” i rest my hands on his face, cupping it. “Fuck daddy, don’t stop, you’re gonna make me cum” i moan out, making him come to a halt. He stares at me with a look of amusement. “Daddy huh” fuck. I feel my cheeks heat up in embarrassment, He flips us over so i’m on top of him “Show daddy how you ride then princess” i lean forward, grinding on his dick occasionally bouncing up and down. He throws his head back “Shit doll” he bites down on his bottom lip, using one hand to grip my ass and the other to smack it. “That’s it baby. Keep going” i feel my second orgasm inching closer with each slap and moan that falls off of his beautiful lips.

I pick up the pace, bouncing up and down, getting faster and faster. Feeling my orgasm coming. “Fuck daddy. I’m cumming” i scream out, arching my back, making him thrust into me to chase his own peak. “Cum with me baby doll” it doesn’t take long. His thrusts start to slow down and i feel him twitch inside of me, causing my orgasm to follow. He lets out a breathy moan, pulling my body close to his as he sits up whilst he’s still inside of me. We come down from our intense highs and he pulls out, i fall onto the bed beside him.

We lay there for a couple of minutes, catching our breath. “WOW” he chuckles, trying to get his breath back. “That felt amazing” i turn to face him. Lying on my side. He traces his finger across my body. “I enjoyed every second of that” i nod in agreement, leaning in to kiss him. We both smile into the kiss. I sit up slowly and attempt to make a trip to the bathroom to sort myself out for bed but my legs don’t allow it. I fall back onto the bed causing Ransom to burst out laughing at my failed attempt “You’ve ruined me” he reaches over to me “Let me help you” he picks me up and walks me to the bathroom. 

We both get ourselves sorted and he helps me back into bed. “Please stay the night” i plead “Did you think i was going to leave?” i look down at my hands “I hoped you wouldn’t” he lifts my chin up so i look at him. “I’m not going anywhere” he leaves a soft kiss on my forehead. We turn the lights off and i lay my head onto his chest. “Goodnight” he whispers, kissing my hand. “Goodnight Ransom”.

A/N : I hope you guys like this. I’ve not written smut for years so i was a little nervous about this incase it didn’t turn out well. Feedback is welcome.