#Best Window Privacy Film

[tintingmississaugaon]

Finding the Best Window Tinting Companies Near You in Mississauga

Finding the best window tinting companies in Mississauga is easy when you know what to look for. Start by checking the company's reputation through their website and customer reviews. Look for awards that show expertise and commitment to quality. Evaluate their service offerings to guarantee they meet your needs, whether it's automotive, residential, or commercial tinting. Compare prices and be on the lookout for discounts or bundle deals. Proximity matters too; local businesses can offer faster service and understand regional needs better. Discovering more insights will further help you select the perfect tinting company for your requirements.

Assessing Company Reputation

When you're looking to find the best window tinting company, evaluating their reputation is essential. You want a company that's not only skilled but also trustworthy.

Start by exploring their online presence. A well-maintained website with positive customer reviews can tell you a lot about how they operate and treat their clients.

Don't overlook social media platforms; they can offer real-time insights into customer satisfaction and company responsiveness.

Additionally, check if they've received any industry awards. These accolades can indicate a company's commitment to excellence and innovation in their field.

Awards often reflect a company's dedication to quality service and customer satisfaction, making them a valuable measure of reputation.

Evaluating Service Offerings

Exploring the range of services offered by a window tinting company is essential in determining if they're the right fit for your needs. You want to guarantee they provide the specific service types you're interested in, whether it's automotive, residential, or commercial tinting.

Investigate the details—do they offer energy-efficient films or advanced UV protection? These nuances can make all the difference.

Consider the warranty options they provide, too. A solid warranty reflects confidence in their work and offers you peace of mind. Ask about coverage duration and what's included.

Comparing Pricing Options

After evaluating a company's service offerings, it's important to take into account their pricing options.

You'll want to guarantee you're getting the best value without compromising on quality. Start by exploring various discount options they might offer. Some companies provide seasonal discounts or special promotions that could align perfectly with your needs.

Additionally, inquire about bundle deals. Bundling services, such as window tinting with other car enhancements, often leads to significant savings. This approach not only saves money but also adds a personal touch to your experience.

Comparing these options across different companies can help you make a more informed decision. Remember, a little research now can save you a lot later, guaranteeing you get the most bang for your buck.

Reviewing Customer Feedback

Customer feedback is a goldmine of information that can greatly influence your choice of window tinting companies. By diving into feedback analysis, you'll uncover firsthand experiences that reflect customer satisfaction levels and service quality.

Embrace the insights shared by others who've walked the path before you. It's like having a conversation with a friend who's enthusiastic to guide you.

When reviewing customer feedback, keep an eye out for:

- **Consistency in positive reviews** that highlight exceptional service.

- **Negative feedback patterns** that might indicate recurring issues.

- **Detailed testimonials** that provide specifics about the service.

- **Response from the company** to both positive and negative reviews.

- **Overall rating trends** to gauge general customer satisfaction.

Let these insights steer you toward a decision that guarantees you're in capable hands.

Exploring Location Proximity

Considering location proximity is essential when choosing a window tinting company, as it can markedly impact convenience and service efficiency.

Imagine the ease of having a trusted professional just around the corner. When you conduct a local search, you're not just finding nearby options; you're tapping into geographic advantages that can make a world of difference in service speed and accessibility.

Having a company close by means quicker response times, especially if you need follow-up services or adjustments. You'll save on travel time and possibly even costs.

Plus, local businesses often have a better understanding of regional weather conditions, ensuring that your tinting needs are met with expertise.

Prioritize proximity, and you'll likely enjoy a smoother, more personalized experience.

Conclusion

In your quest to find the best window tinting company in Mississauga, trust your instincts like a seasoned navigator trusts their compass. You've assessed reputations, evaluated services, and compared pricing, guaranteeing you get the best value. Customer feedback has been your guide, steering you towards quality. And with location proximity in mind, you assure convenience. Now, you're equipped to make an informed choice, ready to enhance your space with the perfect tint.

[gingersnapwolves]

Y’ALL. We have one of those cling film covers in our bathroom window for privacy and in the afternoon when the sun hits it just right, it makes rainbows, right? And today my wife sends me the best pic she’s ever taken:

[thedensworld]

Alone at Night | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, established relationship, short!

Summary: Mingyu has no idea until he had to sleepover in your house because of the rain. In fact, it hurts him.

In the dimly lit room, the soft patter of rain against the window was the only sound, punctuated occasionally by a distant rumble of thunder. Mingyu shifted on the couch, glancing at the clock on the wall. 2 a.m. already. He hadn't planned on staying this late, but fate, it seemed, had other ideas.

As he nestled deeper under the cozy comforter you had provided, Mingyu couldn't help but smile, reminiscing about the evening that led to this unexpected slumber party. Your movie date had been nothing short of perfect – a delicious dinner cooked by your own hands followed by a marathon of films, laughter, and the warmth of your presence beside him.

But as the clock struck midnight, Mingyu had made a mental note to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome or make things awkward. Yet, as if the universe conspired against his plans, the rain began to pour relentlessly, trapping him in your cozy abode for the night.

"Fourth date and already a sleepover," he mused to himself, a mixture of amusement and disbelief coloring his thoughts. Mingyu couldn't deny the flutter of excitement in his chest at the thought of spending more time with you, even if it was under somewhat unconventional circumstances.

Reflecting on how he had met you through a mutual friend, Mingyu couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected turn his life had taken. Your calm demeanor and quiet energy had drawn him in from the start, and what had begun as a simple friendship had blossomed into something deeper – something he couldn't quite put into words.

And when he finally mustered the courage to confess his feelings, Mingyu had braced himself for any outcome, never daring to hope that you might feel the same way. Your stoicism had kept him guessing, but your acceptance had filled him with a warmth he had never known before.

As he drifted off to sleep, cocooned in the comfort of your home and the promise of a new day with you, Mingyu couldn't help but feel grateful for the rain that had brought him here – and for the person who had stolen his heart in the most unexpected of ways.

In the midst of his own thoughts and worries, Mingyu couldn't shake the feeling of concern gnawing at him. He knew you had been through a lot lately – the setbacks at work, the financial burdens from family, the weight of responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. Yet, you always seemed to carry yourself with such grace and composure, never letting on just how much you were struggling.

But as he lay awake on the couch, the sound of faint sobbing drifting through the stillness of the night shattered Mingyu's facade of calm. His heart clenched with a mixture of anguish and helplessness, realizing that it was you – the person he cared for deeply – who was silently bearing the weight of your own troubles.

With cautious steps, Mingyu approached your slightly ajar door, his ears straining to catch the sound of your stifled sobs. His hand hovered over the door, torn between respecting your privacy and wanting to offer whatever comfort he could.

Inside your room, you sat on the edge of your bed, shoulders trembling as you tried to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. Despite your best efforts to reassure Mingyu and everyone else that you were okay, the facade cracked in the solitude of the night, allowing the pent-up tears to finally spill over.

Mingyu's heart clenched at the sight of you on the bed, your body trembling with silent sobs. The realization that you had been crying alone, even with him just a room away, sent a pang of guilt coursing through him. What pain had you been concealing behind that stoic facade? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a deep ache of concern for you.

Summoning his resolve, Mingyu softly knocked on your door, his hand lingering on the doorknob before gently pushing it open. The dim light of the night lamp cast a soft glow over the room as Mingyu stepped inside, his gaze drawn to your form on the bed.

"Do you need something, Mingyu?" Your voice, tinged with exhaustion and sadness, cut through the silence. You looked up at him, attempting to mask the vulnerability that lingered in your eyes, but Mingyu saw through the facade.

Without a word, he approached you, his heart heavy with the weight of your pain. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached out and switched on the night lamp, illuminating your tear-stained face. His hand moved to your cheek, gentle and tender as he wiped away the evidence of your tears.

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Mingyu hummed softly, a soothing melody meant to offer comfort and solace. There were no words to express the depth of his concern for you, but in that simple gesture, he hoped you could feel his unwavering support and the love that overflowed in his heart.

"Mingyu..." Your voice quivered as you spoke his name, a mixture of relief and vulnerability laced in those two syllables.

"It's okay... You can cry..." Mingyu's voice was gentle, his words a soothing balm to your wounded soul. With a reassuring nod, he extended his hand, offering you the comfort and understanding you so desperately needed.

As you sat in front of him, the floodgates of emotion burst open, tears streaming down your cheeks unchecked. Mingyu's heart constricted at the sight of your raw pain, but he remained steadfast, his arms opening wide to envelop you in a warm embrace.

"Baby..." Mingyu's voice was tender, filled with a depth of emotion that spoke volumes. He pulled you closer, holding you tightly against his chest as you surrendered to your tears. Each sob wracked your body, but Mingyu held you with unwavering strength, his presence a beacon of solace in the darkness of your despair.

You cried harder, the weight of your burdens feeling momentarily lighter in Mingyu's embrace. His words of reassurance washed over you like a gentle wave, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the storm of your emotions.

"It's okay, you're doing great... I'm here." Mingyu's whispered words echoed in the stillness of the room, a promise of his unwavering support and unconditional love. And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, you knew that you were not alone – that no matter how heavy the burdens you carried, Mingyu would always be there to share the load.

Wrapped in the comforting cocoon of your embrace, Mingyu held you close, his arms a steady anchor amidst the storm of your emotions. He watched as your tears gradually subsided, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm against his chest. With tender care, he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

"Is it always like this? Every night?" Mingyu's voice was soft, tinged with concern, as he finally broached the subject that had been weighing on his mind.

You shook your head, the remnants of sadness still lingering in your eyes. "Sometimes it just hits randomly at night. Without a reason."

"This time too?" Mingyu's question was gentle, his gaze searching yours for any sign of reassurance.

You nodded, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air between you. But Mingyu didn't falter ��� instead, he pulled you closer, his touch a silent vow of unwavering support.

His hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a comforting gesture as he spoke, his voice filled with determination. "If this happens again, later... Call me. I'll be by your side, like this."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Mingyu's love and the promise of his steadfast presence, you felt a glimmer of hope ignite within you. No matter how dark the night may seem, you knew that with Mingyu by your side, you would never have to face it alone.

[littlexdeaths]

we should probably hear him out, right?

older brother’s best friend eddie x fem reader

warnings: angst, miscommunication, reader is bratty and mean bc her insecurities get the best of her, eddie is far too sweet for his own good.

it’s a recipe for disaster masterlist.

a/n: ngl i did struggle a bit with this one, so i really wanna thank @strangerstilinski & @uglypastels & @undead-supernova for giving me some much needed advice. ily all 💕also this is a tad bit long… oopsie. xx.

eddie was beyond confused.

you haven’t spoken to him in days and whenever he came around to see sid, you had holed yourself up in your room. your bedroom window remained locked and despite his futile attempts to get you to open up, you ignored him.

it was such a complete 180 from how you’d been acting only a few days prior— so he couldn’t help but assume the worst.

maybe you had changed your mind, regretted this… or more specifically regretted him.

what else was he supposed to think?

but you really couldn't help yourself — too busy replaying that moment over and over in your head.

a flash of strawberry blonde hair. and the memory of eddie’s gentle gaze directed so sweetly at someone who decidedly wasn't you��

it had the green mist that clouded your mind twisting into something else entirely, something uglier. jealousy gave way to hurt, and hurt gave way to anger.

seeing eddie with her had pushed all of your insecurities to the surface. they bubbled hotly beneath your ribs and left you feeling sick to your stomach for the first few days, but that was before you realized that anger was far easier to deal with than sadness.

now, you clung to your rage like a safety blanket.

and while you wanted to be angry with both of them— it really wasn’t chrissy’s fault.

so you took that anger and frustration out on him, as childish as it was. and the more days that passed, your cold shoulder morphed into clipped words and pointed glares.

it was enough for even sid to take notice.

“dude, i don’t know what happened but i think i preferred it when she was making heart eyes at you.” he’d said after you stormed through the garage during one of their band practices.

purposefully knocking your shoulder against eddie’s while you passed by. it was so completely out of character for you that it had all the guys stunned into an uncomfortable silence.

but despite how poorly you continued to treat him, eddie kept showing up regardless. while it was always under the guise of hanging out with your brother, you knew better.

he tried his best to find a time to pull you aside to talk to you, but you were being more elusive than ever. and his own frustrations with your actions began to weigh heavily on him.

and one of these days he would explode— whether sid was there to witness it or not.

everything finally reaches a boiling point just a week later, when you came downstairs to find eddie lounging on your sofa. a random horror flick playing on the tv and your brother nowhere to be found.

while you could’ve turned around and retreated to the privacy of your room, the petty side of you wants to continue to push his buttons. so you make your way down the stairs, quietly shuffling behind the sofa and leaning your hip against it.

once you have a better view you can’t help but roll your eyes at the choice of the film, the cover art staring up at you almost mockingly.

cheerleader camp, what a surprise.

“really, munson? i thought you of all people would’ve had better taste than this shit.”

your voice sounds a beat before a dramatic score fills the room and eddie jumps in surprise. his curls bounce when his head whips around to peek up at you, and you expect to be met with a look of irritation. but you��re more than confused to see the relief that flits across his features instead.

because at least you’re talking to him.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

and you have to look away from the intensity of his gaze, already feeling your defenses start to crumble. damn him. so you advert your attention back to the movie, jaw tightening as you see a flash of brightly colored pom poms fill the screen.

“oh, nothing…” you inhale sharply, “it’s just obvious that you have a type.”

you gesture towards the tv and any lingering anger swirling in your body begins to dissipate. but before he can see the flash of hurt in your eyes, you quickly turn on your heel and start to climb the stairs back towards your room.

“whoa— whoa, sweetheart, hang on!” eddie huffs, hopping over the back of the sofa to rush after you.

only his socks slip on the hardwood floor and he almost goes tumbling to the ground. but he’s able to catch himself on the banister, and uses the momentum to skip past the first few steps to the landing.

“i really don’t want to do this right now, eddie.”

a glance over your shoulder has you quickening your pace, practically taking the stairs two at a time in an effort to put more distance between you. but eddie is a lot faster than you gave him credit for. the male was already hot on your heels once you reach the top of the staircase.

“jesus christ— slow down!”

you ignore him and continue down the hall toward your bedroom, and you’ve barely crossed the threshold before he’s tugging on your wrist to whirl you back around. eddie is practically panting as he pulls you closer and it takes everything in your power not to lean into his touch.

“will you please just tell me what the hell is going on?” he pleads, leaning against the door-jam.

“i don’t know, why don’t you ask your new girlfriend about it?” you scoff, yanking your wrist out of his grip and attempting to slam the door in his face.

but eddie sticks his foot into the crack right before it can fully close, wincing as a fiery pain shoots up into his calf. and despite the throbbing in his foot, he pushes his way into your room.

“mouse, what are you even talking about?”

you can hear the frustration that begins to bleed into his voice, but you keep your back to him. you know that seeing him was going to make this that much harder.

“please just cut the bullshit eddie, i saw you with her,” you voice cracks as you try to swallow down the emotions threatening to burst from your chest.

“with who?”

“— chrissy!”

it’s silent for a beat, besides the sounds of your heavy breathing. so when you finally muster the courage to face him. that confused, yet hurt expression doesn’t falter.

“sweetheart, i honestly don’t know what you’re so upset about.”

he rubs a hand down his face with a deep sigh.

“i’m not blind, eddie,” you’re almost offended that he thinks he might be able to get away with pretending that it never happened. “i saw how she looked at you.”

eddie just stares at you for a moment, bewildered and unblinking. until he suddenly bursts into a fit of laughter, which only re-ignites the hurt and fury that’s been swirling in your gut for the past week and a half.

“i really don’t see how any of this is funny, eddie,” you snap.

“it’s just….” he practically wheezes, taking a step toward you. “you’ve got this whole thing wrong, baby.”

the slip of the pet name has your insides fluttering, despite your lingering resentment.

“well enlighten me, then.”

it takes him a minute to calm down completely, but once he does he’s reaching out for your hands and closes the lingering space between your bodies.

“i promise you, mouse. i’m really not her type.”

your snort has him sighing deeply before he cradles your cheeks between his palms. while you’re not satisfied with that answer, your anger starts to fizzle under the warmth of his gaze.

eddie then licks his lips while he attempts to collect his thoughts and your eyes can’t help but follow the motion.

“let’s just say… we bat for the same team.”

embarrassment immediately floods through you as the weight of his words begin to sink in.

and now you feel like a total idiot.

“oh.” you breathe.

“yeah, oh,” he chuckles.

“oh my god, i’m so stupid,” you groan, letting your head fall forward to bump into his shoulder.

“hey, you’re not stupid, mouse. just maybe… a little prone to jumping to conclusions.”

you can feel him laugh again as he envelopes you completely in his arms. and you gladly bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck in an effort to hide your warm cheeks.

“however…” he continues, “next time, if i do something that makes you worry like that. will you promise to just come and talk to me?”

he can feel you nod your head, his body relaxing when your lips press into his clothed shoulder.

“while i know i can an asshole sometimes, i’m not a total prick.”

eddie grins when that pulls a giggle out of you, having missed that sound more than he’d care to admit. the male then gently grips your chin between his thumb and fore finger, coaxing you up until you meet his eyes.

and there’s nothing but sincerity that shines through them.

“so, what do you say?” he muses.

your head tilts in slight confusion as he leans in to nudge his nose with yours, your breath mingling together.

“be my girl?”

series taglist: @nailbatanddungeon @angel-eyes-and-devil-hearts @mugloversonly @eddiemunsonfuxks @munsonhoneybaby @alagalaska @creative1writings @missmarch-99 @stolen-in-moonlight @xxbimbobunnyxx @calumfmu @bastardstevie @prestinalove @indigosparkle444 @tlclick73 @hellfire--cult @take-everything-you-can

let me know if you’d like to join the taglist!

[capquinn]

Do you have any of your own dad!quinn daydreams with him and Bug in the Amazon episode? Is he the type of parent to completely avoid her being posted or he’s okay with a small amount like pictures and candid moments

oh i've been waiting for this one!!!!!

Quinn’s online presence has basically become non-existent since he became captain, which makes total sense. When he does post or share something, it’s almost entirely about his career — the odd Insta story repost from the Canucks, like charity work or celebrating a teammate's milestone, or occasionally something promotional for the Canucks or NHL posted to his feed. I mean, we didn’t even get a summer dump this year, so it’s clear he’s become much more private. The idea of him posting something personal would feel so out of character now, you know? Honestly, I’d have to wonder if he was being held at gunpoint if it happened lol

With that in mind, I feel like dad!quinn would take that privacy even further when it comes to Bug. He wouldn’t post her on social media at all — there’s no way he’d want her out there for public consumption. Maybe he’d share the occasional snippet on a private or close friends Instagram story, but even then, he’d be incredibly careful about what he shows. Think faceless photos — like a shot of her little sunhat shielding her face as she sits on the dock at the lake house in the summer, or a picture she drew of him, proudly displayed on the fridge with a caption like, “she’s pretty critical of my stick handling.” Those little moments that mean everything to him, but he’d keep them just for the people closest to him.

With the Face Off stuff, He’d want to keep her out of it entirely, likely requesting that they not film her or include anything too personal, doing his best to protect that part of his life. Instead, there’d just be traces of his family in the background — things that suggest without showing. A toy box tucked into the corner of the living room, a teddy bear left on the sofa, a colouring book and crayons on the dining table, family photos on the mantle but filmed at a distance so nothing is truly decipherable.

At most, maybe there’d be one sweet, subtle moment near the end. Like a clip of him on the boat with Jack, wakeboarding, and you hear Bug’s tiny voice calling, “daddy!” from the dock. The camera wouldn’t even show her — just her voice floating across the water while the shot stays focused on Quinn. His reaction would say everything, though: his big, unrestrained smile, the way his eyes would light up as he waves back toward her standing beside you on the shore. It’d be the perfect glimpse into his life as a dad without crossing the line into showing too much.

They might ask him during the interview part of filming what it’s been like balancing being a captain and a first-time dad, and his lips would twitch into that soft, shy smile, his gaze dropping for a moment like he’s carefully choosing what not to say. His answer would be thoughtful yet still so reserved. Something like, “it’s been amazing. It’s definitely a balance — wanting to give everything I can to both — but being her dad is the best thing I’ve ever done. She's pretty great.” And I can just imagine his smile growing as he talks about it, like he’s holding back from saying more because he wants to protect that part of his life so fiercely. The cameras might linger on him for a moment after his answer, his expression so sweet and so vulnerable, almost distant, like he’s thinking about Bug back home, probably drawing another masterpiece for the fridge.

It feels like exactly the kind of balance Quinn would strive for — protecting his family’s privacy while still giving the smallest, most heartfelt window into the joy of what being a dad brings him.

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

He Canceled Hot Girl Summer 🔥

18+mdni series master list

The night before Aries season…|

You paced back and forth in the hospital room, trying to walk through the discomfort of early labor. Your mom and dad had traveled to see you and be with you during the birth of your son. Your dad, being the man that he was, couldn't stand seeing his baby girl in pain and went to harass the nurses to do something about it (despite your mom saying it was all in God's hands).

You sit down on the bed and groan in frustration. You start crazy laughing. It was only five hours in, and Omari was taking his sweet time. “He's such a drama queen.” You huff, “Of course, his little ass is doing things on his terms, like I'm not sitting here hungry for more than ice.”

Your mom just laughs and shakes her head, “It's the only time he's ever gonna be able to tell you to wait, and you gotta.”

“But if I let him call the shots now, he'll expect to keep calling the shots.” You grumble and rub your back.

“Sweetie?”

“Yeah mom?” You look at her, and your breath hitches at another contraction.

“How are you feeling? I know the last few months you and Ricky haven't been the best.” She says.

She's not really asking how you are right now physically, she's got four kids, she knows. You roll your eyes and look up at the ceiling in thought, “Dad is just being Dad, I don't even care for real.”

“You know he just didn't want this for you, neither of us did.”

“Yeah, but my baby is almost here, and Dad, I suppose, is deciding to pay my rent for the year instead of apologizing to me for what he said.” Your voice wavers slightly at the memory of what was supposed to be the happiest moment of your pregnancy. Telling your parents they were going to be grandparents.

“He's here now, and he wants to make it up to you. Ya know he never stopped, during that six month stretch, never did he stopped asking about you and the baby.” She moves to sit next to you and holds your hand. “Pray on it and forgive him.”

Your eyes close, and you chuckle sadly, “Prayer doesn't fix other people's shitty actions.”

Your mom opens her mouth and closes it multiple times. She's trying to say something, anything profound to smooth over an already tense relationship. Rehabilitate, like most mothers do when their family has been smashed on the rocks.

You hope that Omari doesn't ever have to pray for the strength to forgive you. You'd rather eat hot nails than ever guilt trip him for your actions. You think briefly that having your father here instead of his father may be his villain origin story. So maybe it's already in motion. Who knows?

Another contraction takes hold of you, and you pray for a healthy baby that will never need to be told to pray.

Chapter 4: The thing about video calls…is that you can hang up. 📱

It's been two weeks of Johnny inserting himself into Omari's life and, by extension, your life, too. On days that you don't work from home, he's at your apartment and helping you by getting Omari ready. You can always hear him speaking that strange language to him, and when you asked Johnny what it was, he told you with a sly smile.

“Gaelic chuilein.” He then went back to softly speaking to Omari as if you're not even there.

And you thought Aaliyah spoiled Omari? (Despite her telling you to send him to glory in the beginning, she comes over, and when she does, her first greeting is “Where's Big Mari? Aunty has a gift for him.” And then she produces another pair of baby Jordans that he will grow out of.) Johnny goes absolutely wild with daddy duties. The man doesn't even like the idea of his mini me being even slightly uncomfortable or upset. He bought a towel warmer just so Omari wouldn't have to leave a warm bath and use a cold towel. He didn't like that Omari's nursery had street facing windows (and the only reason his nursery faced the street is because you and him would people watch on Sunday morning) and while he fussed and complained, he got privacy film so his baby and his woman could see out but people couldn't see in.

He applied that film to all of the windows.

And then he bought you a ring camera doorbell for his peace of mind.

You've heard him on the phone with his mom or one of his three sisters. All of them sounded cheerful about Omari, asking to see his chubby little face and cooing about his features and how he looks like some man named Johnathan (who you correctly assume is his father). His mother, a sweet woman with bright blue eyes and a warm smile, speaks to you each and every time she's on the phone. She'd asked about your diet, admonished you about not eating enough, and then promptly began scolding Johnny about the importance of making sure you ate enough. She explained that a breastfeeding mother needed to eat hearty and healthy and that she was sending him a list of foods for him to get and cook. The whole time, Johnny sat there nodding his head, cheeks flushed pink, and a little bit embarrassed.

You give him credit though, you thought he'd give you bland British Food, but he was making family recipes, and they were surprisingly good.

That's when he asked if he should know your parents. Which led to you calling them up on Skype one Saturday afternoon and your mom answering with a smile.

“Sweetie!” She smiles, “And how are you doing? Are you still having trouble with your depression?” She's asking before you can even shake your head no and switch the subject. “And did you speak with your therapist and psych about getting on new meds?”

Johnny is in the kitchen, Omari strapped to his chest (once again, that baby doesn't sit on his own ass…ever) and he's looking at you with concern. His blue eyes are unreadable, but you spy the clench in his jaw as he quietly listens along. He's warming up a bottle on the stove since Omari is more demanding for being fed more often, and your nipples are too sore to handle his little gummy gnawing. It's clear from the looks he keeps giving you that a conversation will be had.

“Nah, mom. I haven't seen them in the past three weeks since work picked up and stuff.” You lean back on the sofa and situate the laptop on the coffee table.

Your mom frowns and opens her mouth, but then she stops when she hears Omari start crying offscreen. “Where's the baby? Is Autumn with you? Tell that boy that he needs to call more.”

“No, Autumn isn't here…” You take a deep breath, “Omari's father John is here.”

She stares for a moment, “now don't you going pullin' my leg.”

“No really, he is. It's a long and interesting story, but we, and really I mean Aaliyah, found him by accident, and he wants in.” You try to sum it all up neatly, and the way you purse your lips, clearly say you won't be explaining much more.

“Ricky!” Your mom gets up and calls for your father, “Richard Knights!” She's walking offscreen, and you can hear the familiar squeak of the screen door and the distant sound of the lawnmower.

Johnny comes over and sits down. He's got Omari eating. He's a bit tense, and you understand him, meeting Davina over FaceTime was stressful. The woman wasn't the same as happy and go-lucky as Johnny or his other two sisters Fiona and Blair. You chalk it up to her being the eldest daughter as she acts similarly to Aaliyah.

“How does mah hair look?” His free hand messes with the front of his hair. The bottle is leaning against his chest.

“Johnny, you're holding your son, and you are about to meet my father and mother, and you wanna worry about hair?” You smack his hand away and fix it right for him. He leans into your touch and smiles at you. That smile makes your stomach flip, and he knows that it does because the smile becomes a bit devilish.

“Chuilein,” He whispers, his eyes are half lidded, “You smell nice.”

“I smell like milk.” You playfully push him away.

“You smell like a mother, and I'm trying to hold myself back from making Irish twins with you.”

“John really?” You shriek. At this time, both of your parent's are sitting down, and you're praying they didn't hear him. (The angry look on your father's face says otherwise.)

“What did you call me in here for Portia?” Your father says.

“She saying that this is Omari's father.” Portia smiles, “Hi darling, I'm Portia, and this is my husband Richard, but we call him Ricky.”

“You can call me Colonel.” Your father flat out denies Johnny of any familiarity. You can only groan and roll your eyes heavenward.

“Daddy, please don't be difficult.” The sigh you let out can be no less dramatic if you try.

“Nice to meet you, sir, Sergeant John MacTavish.” Johnny sits up straighter, and you are reminded that he is indeed an army soldier. He fell into the roll so easily.

“Hn.” Ricky grunts and nods his head once, “a sergeant? Can't say I'm displeased. Better than what I initially thought only by a margin.” His arms are folded across his chest. He watches from beneath his heavy brows, and his eyes squint just slightly. “Can you say what branch, or are there a bunch of NDAs involved?”

“Daddy would you-”

“A bunch of NDAs, but I do serve in S.A.S. sir.” He answers coolly. Omari starts to whine and cry slightly, and Johnny is immediately tuning into what he wants. He whispers softly to him and asks if he's tired of eating and wants to burp. Your mom is smiling and looks moved. Your father not so much.

“Hm.” Ricky nods his head again, “At least my daughter got pregnant by a decent man. Can't wait to see and learn if you're respectable and responsible.”

“Ricky, be nice.” Portia frowns, “He's here now, and it's a prayer answered that she won't be on her own and Omari will have his father.”

“He's black ops. I know their kind.” He doesn't budge, and he looks down at your mom with a knowing look.

“Anyway-” Portia rolls her eyes, “John, are you planning to come to the States for Omari's baptism?” She smiles at him, “Unless you and my daughter have decided to not get him baptized.”

“ah'm actually a Catholic ma'am.” He sits Omari up after burping him so he can see the screen.

“There's Mimi's little fat man!” Portia squealed, “and you're Catholic? I'm not all that familiar with the Catholic faith, but I suppose a baptism is a baptism for you all, too? Does it matter the denomination?”

“Mom, I still haven't decided if I want to get Omari baptized.” You try gently reminding her. You've all had this conversation multiple times, and you really don't wanna go all the way back home for a baptism.

“You know your GiGi already started picking out fabric for his suit.” Portia sighs.

“She's sewing it? Good lord.” Ricky huffs, “That sewing machine is gonna catch on fire. It's so old.”

“Point is, Sweetie, that we gotta schedule the baptism soon. Don't want that baby coming up on six months without it.” She says.

“We aren' doin’ a baptism.” Johnny says before you even open your mouth, he's still smiling down at Omari and tickling his little toes.

“Huh?” You and your mother speak at the same time.

“Yea, me an’ mah chuilein are more focused on get'n tha family thing right.” He looks up. His eyes are bright, but his smile is more like a tight grimace. Then, without prompting, he leans over and kisses you on the cheek. “‘Sides” He continues, “wouldnae be right to baptize him if his his mum an’ da are livin’ in sin aye?”

“Wait, he's living with you?” Your Dad growls.

You quickly go right into damage control, “No he ain't. It's an expression.”

“Aaww” your mother is crying now, “he's a God-fearing man, I was so worried she'd end up with a heathen.”

“Portia please…” Ricky sighs, “not every man who has religion is God-fearing…” he's trying to console her cries and praises of ‘Won't he do it.”

Johnny is watching the two of them with a raised brow and a crooked grin. He looks at you and nudges your side. “The're quite tha characters.” He whispers to you. He's leaning close to you, the warmth of his breath on the shell of your ear. “An’ donnae think we aren' gonna talk ‘bout yur depression an’ mental health.”

You meet his serious gaze, and those blue eyes aren't as playful and sweet. Instead, they are worried and his lips in a firm line. The moment is tense, and you feel sorta like you're in trouble, but that can't be right. It can't be right because you're a grown woman and who the fuck is he? So before you can even stop yourself the words come out of your mouth.

“John,” you say, the corner of your lip raised a bit, “last time I checked, I'm grown.”

He doesn't say anything, and his grimace only tightens. He won't be backing down on this one. His best mates all have abysmal mental health, and while he's semi adjusted, he too suffers, and he knows it's no joke. Your mom breaks the tension with a wail, and you just now realize the woman has started speaking in tongues.

“Mom, what?” You say watching the woman cry and sob. Some of the words are ‘Thank you Jesus.’

Your father is rubbing her back, “we will talk later, Baby girl…seems your mom has decided to work herself into a frenzy.” He looks at Johnny and hums. “Give him my number, I'd like to chat with him one on one.” And before you can rebuff anything, the screen goes blank.

“Does she do that often?” Johnny asks, clearly confused.

“She's probably in the middle of a spiritual psychosis episode.” You say with a sigh, “also please don't call my father Colonel. He's retired. And on a second note, when you inevitably meet my eldest brother Junior, don't call him anything but Junior.”

“Yur family sounds fun.” He laughed.

“They are…but we all love each other. Also, did you mean what you said about the baptism thing?” You ask.

“Aye, ah did.” He looks back at Omari, who at this point has decided to chew on his shirt and doze. “Alla tha stuff can be handle’ later. Mah own mum an’ sisters ‘ave been hintin’ at a catholic baptism an’ already itchin’ about first communion.”

You watch as he rocks and soothes the baby to sleep. He's really different from what you remembered. He didn't seem like the party boy that drank shots off of you and had dipped his tongue into your navel while you laid on the bar top. He didn't seem like the good fuck that spit in your mouth and made you call him daddy (and boy was that a self fulfilling prophecy). Johnny didn't even seem like some army dude, though he was somewhat paranoid about the windows and the front door and balcony door, even though your place was on the second floor. Right now, he painted the pretty picture as a guy who just wanted to take care of his son, affectionately whispering to him in his mother tongue the tune of some lullaby.

Your phone is out, and you've already snapped a photo.

“Don't post it to your insta.” He says just as you opened the app.

“Why not?” You ask.

“Because…” there is hesitation in him as he looks at you, “yur da mentioned he knows mah type.”

You scoff, “He knows the military, I guess.”

“He specifically ask'd ‘f ah was an NDA soldier or a regular one.”

“Okay and? So you can't talk about your work? How's that a big deal?”

“Chuilein…we gotta talk ‘bout mah job, an’ safety, ‘an we gotta talk ‘bout how I wan’ tae keep ya both safe an’ move ya both somewhere safe.” He is tense now and watching your face for every bit of reaction. Slowly, you understand what he's referring to. Your own father was that type of secretive, never spoke about work unless it was just your mom. It only became worse after he made Colonel. It really didn't relax until he retired, and everyone changed their last names to Knights.

You groan and place your head into your hands. Not only did you fuck a army boy, you fucked a spec ops army boy.

“You have gots to be fucking with me.” You whine.

Because, of course, your baby daddy is a shady war criminal, NDA soldier.

A/N: Plot in this story? Say it ain't so. Lol, IDK how the plot showed up, but it's still comedy and a hint of drama. There won't be any kidnappings or his job coming back to physically harm the reader and Omari. Thank you all for following.

Tag list: @evergreenlake @royalty-cashinout @leahnicole1219 @gxuxhdjdu @daft-queen

[ghouldtime]

Bit of a humorous ask. What would happen if König accidentally saw his neighbor compromised? Like, they are doing something embarrassing in their home and doesn't realize their window is open and they happened to glance up at each other at the same time 😭😭

I may or may not have been dancing to ABBA in my bathrobe and my neighbor was walking past and we made solid eye contact with each other for at least 10 seconds before we started laughing. I was in my bathrobe and my nightgown I was so embarrassed. Luckily she laughed with me and danced a little too.

(Anon, in your defense, ABBA is absolute PEAK for that kind of thing. Anyone who wouldn't do the same is either a liar or has no sense of joy in their lives. I'm glad that it was short lived embarrassment and your neighbor has a great sense of humor but still 😭)

Oh man, he'd be mortified.

His social anxiety, as well managed as it is, has him in a chokehold with those things. Second hand embarrassment is one of his worst enemies. As in, he will pause a movie and will exit it if it relies on it for "humor". It's just TOO painful for him to sit and squirm through, he hates it.

He cannot and does not want to deal with it, he'd rather pretend those things don't exist if it's that level of embarrassing. Alas life has a cruel sense of humor and things like that are bound to happen. So he goes the classic route of action: immediately diverts his eyes, pretends like he was conveniently doing something else, and acts like he never saw anything in the first place. He's never going to bring it up or mention it. Even if you swear he saw it, he won't say a word and forces it from his mind.

That being said, it really depends what it is and what happened though - because if it's something endearing where they're just enjoying themselves, living their life, it's really bad! What's "embarassing" usually depends on our own perceptions anyhow.

He may watch for a few moments with a small smile on his face before he diverts his attention before he can be caught. Since we all have those moments where we do things like that and it's a part of our nature to just be silly and to live our lives, it's something to enjoy. It's a moment of calm, normalcy, and tranquility in his otherwise tumultuous life, that he can savor because that can be gone in an instant. He knows that all too well. It's just humans being humans in the absolute best way and THAT is heartwarming and nothing to be embarrassed about. He'll cherish that and the good that he sees whenever he finds it in this world.

He's all for being yourself and enjoying life as you see fit. Go splash in those puddles, go feed the birds, go talk to the little flowers you see growing. Life is too short to waste in on worrying what others think when doing so would hinder your own. His cheeks might tinge a bit crimson if you make eye contact and he's looking away instantly, but that's not from embarrassment - those are just other, more heart warming feelings that are making him flush.

Still, he doesn't like to intrude on private moments (his curtains are usually drawn and he has privacy film on most of his windows) so you're usually going to be in the clear anyhow! But either way, nothing to be embarrassed about. He's not bringing it up either way and if it's bad, it's scrubbed from his mind. If not, he's instead doing his damn best to memorize it and cherish it, among the other small moments that you share together 💚

[myoddessy]

CONEY ISLAND | cl16 —THE PRELUDE.

series masterlist

summary —an article on y/n l/n and all that entails.

WHO IS Y/N L/N? by Louise Kelly

April 29th 2017.

By now, everyone and their mother has heard the name Y/n L/n. With the awards and the acclaims, it's a surprise to find that she isn't an old Hollywood legend, but instead an 19 year old girl with raw, unfiltered talent.

Although, as brilliant as L/n's work is, many fans and followers have noticed a distinct pattern in her projects: she releases something legendary (i.e. an Academy Award for directing after her debut, topping charts with her first album, etc.) and ghosts all media for six months minimum before returning with another knockout. This reputation has lead many tabloids and reporters to refer to her as "Star" an abbreviated version of what was "The Shooting Star" in reference to the fleeting moments of brightness of her career.

Many people over the years have speculated that this nature has been brought on by a lack of media privacy, as paparazzi and obsessive fans alike tracked her down and documented what was near to her every move in the two years before she began her complete media lockdown—outside of promotions, of course.

Due to this private nature of hers, there's a lot of room for speculation when it comes to her life—something news outlets and tabloids such as enews and entertainment weekly have taken advantage of too many times to count over the years by starting rumors and spreading gossip through clickbaited headlines.

In fact, most things people have come to know for certain about the young woman are through speeches she makes or posts from her friends and family's accounts.

In her 2013 Oscar acceptance speech, she went out of her way to thank her mother and brothers, saying they were the only reason she was standing there and their support meant more than any award ever could. Since then, she's never skipped a chance to praise and credit them for her success.

She has also spoken very fondly of her boyfriend and racing car driver, Charles Leclerc, with whom she's been dating for little over three years and grew up living beside. While she does not credit him by name in her speeches, she often dedicates her awards to "her love". Because of this, most information on the pair's relationship has come through both party's instagram accounts, and the accounts of their friends.

Y/n's closest friend, Amalie Billard, has been the public's window into the life of L/n, sharing sweet and funny moments through Instagram stories and posts. Amalie herself is a photographer who grew up with Y/n and has worked closely with her since an internship and ELLE magazine two years ago. Y/n has been the subject of a vast majority of Billard's work and has said that she "feels more comfortable around Amalie than she has with anyone else in the industry and treasures that bond greatly."

Gossip and drama aside, Y/n has build up an impressive reputation in the world's of cinema and music. She has won a total of 5 Academy Awards; Best Leading Actress (2012), Best Supporting actress (2014), Best Leading Actress (2016), Best Director (2017), Best Supporting Actress (2017). And has one 4 Grammys for her music; Pop Solo Performance (2014), Pop Vocal Album (2014), New Artist (2014), Best Alternative Music Album (2017).

She's been praised by some of Hollywood's greatest over the years for both her work ethic and work itself. "She's an incredibly talented young woman who has the sort of grace you'd see in Old Hollywood and the humour you wish you'd see in everyone now. She's truly a great role model for all—young and old." Said Meryl Streep in an interview for "Call for me", a film that she and Y/n starred in in 2015.

taglist— @whoetoshaw @formula-hamilton @lilsiz @sad1esgf @deviltsunoda @tall-tanned-tattoo @briboweee @uh-oh-spaghetti-oh-my-gosh @meetmeaftersix

if you would like to be tagged in future series parts, either comment, dm me, or send a message into my inbox! 💞💞

[heartvshand]

No One Can Force Us Out of Our Pajamas Chapter 2: Coffee

No One Can Force Us Out of Our Pajamas

Chapter 1: No One Can Force Us Out of Our Pajamas

Chapter 2: Coffee

Rio picked her up around ten the next morning to ensure Evanora wouldn’t be home to notice. A wave of relief washed over Agatha upon sliding into the passenger seat of Rio’s black car with tinted windows.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly feeling a different kind of nerves.

“Hey,” Rio said, smiling. “Is it stupid that I’m kind of nervous?”

Agatha laughed and shook her head, buckling her seatbelt. “If it’s stupid, I’m right there with you.”

Rio laughed with her. “Okay, well, at least we’re both nervous. I’m sure it’ll balance out.”

She smiled, nodding. She spun the ring on her finger around with her thumb. “Yeah.”

“This coffee shop is a little far away, because I like privacy.” She turned on to the highway and headed north.

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Oh, now I’m very curious. What is this place?”

She smiled, keeping her eyes on the road. “It’s this quiet place called La Petite, and this little, old French lady runs the place. It’s really nice.”

Agatha watched the traffic and the sky and tried to imagine the place.

“And, um, it’s close to the storage unit I rent where I keep my painting and film equipment.” Rio tapped the steering wheel, nervously. “That’s how I found the place.”

“Yeah?” Agatha tilted her head, watching the nerves ooze off Rio as she drove. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and subtly shifted in the seat. Agatha noticed her black jeans and t-shirt and smiled at the stark contrast of the suit from yesterday.

Rio licked her lips. “I was filming and needed a warm drink.”

She shrugged and shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying all this. The point is I hope you like the place. But if you don’t, we can go somewhere else.”

Agatha reached over and gingerly placed her hand on Rio’s shoulder. “Thanks for sharing. Don’t be sorry. I like learning…real things about you. I’m sure it will be great.”

Rio took the next exit and focused on driving for a few minutes while the radio played.

Agatha tried to come up with something of her own to share. She twisted the fabric of her lightweight jacket sleeve and tried to think of anything to say.

“Um,” she said, clearing her throat. “I don’t have any secrets. I’m kinda jealous you have this whole…secret life your parents can’t take away from you. I wish I had that.”

Rio parked the car and glanced at her. She unbuckled her seatbelt and winked.  “Now you do. You’re here with me, and your mom doesn’t know.”

Agatha undid her seatbelt and met Rio around the car. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Of course,” she said. “That’s it over there.”

She pointed at the row of shops: a bookstore, the coffee shop, and a little bakery all wedged on to the same street.

“This is really cute,” Agatha said. “Could we go to all the shops?”

“Sure, let’s get coffee and explore.” Rio smiled.

When they headed into the coffee shop, the little, old French lady that Rio had mentioned appeared, pulling her in for a hug while Agatha watched. “Ah! Rio! Bonjour!”

She pulled away and held on to Rio’s elbows for a moment. “Oh! Who do we have here?”

Rio gestured to Agatha and said, “This is Agatha.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Agatha. I’m Leslie.” She pulled her in for a hug.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, hugging the lady back while looking at Rio with a mixture of surprise and warmth.

Once they’d ordered drinks, Rio and Agatha said their goodbyes and headed back out to explore as promised. They fell into step, wandering the bookshelves at the bookstore. Agatha scanned the titles of the books and sipped her coffee.

“This is really good,” she said.

“Yeah, she’s got the best coffee!” Rio said, biting her lip. “I’m glad you like it.”

Agatha nodded. “I’m glad you shared it with me. I don’t think I’ll be able to get coffee anywhere else ever again.”

Rio laughed and ducked her head, running her finger over the lid of her cup.

“What do you do for fun?” Rio paused briefly to pull a book out to see the cover. She slid it back inline and kept walking with Agatha.

“Oh. Um. I don’t know. I read, I guess. Play a lot of solitaire or games on my phone. I graduated college in the spring.” Agatha ran her hand through her hair. “I don’t know.”

Rio chewed on her lip. She wanted to ask other questions but thought better of it on their first real hang out. She filed away those questions for a later time.

Instead, she said, “What’s your degree?”

Agatha gave a small laugh. “Well, I had a double major. I got a degree in business and art therapy.”

Rio’s eyes went wide. “Those feel so far apart. How’d you wind up with those?”

Agatha stopped and ran her hand over a row of books. “I don’t know. My mom wanted me to major in business. I wanted to do art therapy.”

“Is that your dream job, then? Art therapy?” Rio tilted her head and leaned on the edge of the bookshelf.

Agatha turned to face her. “Maybe. I-I don’t really get to think about that. Mom alternates between wanting me in every single meeting with her and telling me to mind my own business. If your parents buy our company, then I think I’m expected to be as involved or uninvolved as you or your family want.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, careful not to spill her coffee. “I think if my mom had it her way, I’d be your trophy wife and nothing else. She’d never have to think about me again.” She paused, her mom’s voice suddenly echoing in her head. “Yesterday, she said the stupidest thing in the car after we left. She said, ‘maybe she can keep you in line,’ as if I’m unruly…as if I’m your pet or something.”

Her eyes glistened and she looked away, dabbing at her eyes quickly.

Rio frowned and pulled her into a hug. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

“So, yeah, I guess, um if I could do anything, maybe it would be art therapy. But. I don’t know. It was the only thing I could get her to approve,” Agatha said, resting her head on Rio’s shoulder.  “Sorry. I-I don’t know why that all came out. I’ve never said that to anyone. It was like…word vomit. I don’t know. You’re easy to talk to.”

“Don’t be sorry. I asked, and I’m glad you shared. I’m happy you felt like you could.”  Rio held her. Her heart pounded. She hated that this was Agatha’s home life. She sighed and rubbed her back. “And for the record, I’m not keeping you in line and you’re not my pet or property. Just so you know that.”

Agatha pulled away just enough to look at her face. “Thank you.”

Rio nodded, a serious look in her eyes. “I mean it. We’re equals. I don’t care what they think or say or whatever. You’re not less than or-or a trophy…you aren’t my property just because your mom wants a merger.”

Agatha nodded, new tears stinging her eyes. “Thanks, Rio.”

“Um, I know I said I’d propose after the fifth date, but...maybe after the second or third date, you could, I don’t know…you could stay with me sometimes. It’d be at my parents’ place.” She paused and shook her head. “They’re…strict but not like your mom. They’d be cool about you staying over. Or we could get a hotel.”

She rubbed her neck with one hand while holding on to Agatha with the other. “No pressure. And we wouldn’t have to do anything. I mean, sexually. It could just be…a sleepover. No sex dungeons or whatever. Just wanted you to get some extra time away from all of that nonsense if you wanted it.”

Agatha laughed, feeling her heart swell up at the thoughtfulness. “Thanks. That would be really cool honestly.”

Rio gave a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

They untangled themselves and resumed walking through the bookstore. Once they’d made a lap, they headed for the bakery.

After they told the teen working the counter that they’d need a minute, he disappeared to the back, leaving them to look at the displays.

“What’s your favorite sweet treat?” Agatha said, eyeing the little cakes, cookies, and other desserts in the display case.

Rio scanned the rows of snacks. “Ice cream cake, as silly as that sounds.”

“Not silly at all. That’s a good one.” Agatha examined the bright, light blue counters and the checked floor tiles. “This place has character.”

“Yeah, it does. What’s your favorite?” Rio said.

Agatha laughed. “I’m not sure if this is anything, but I like throwing snickerdoodles or graham crackers in a good root beer float. It’s way too sweet and it gives me a stomachache sometimes, but I enjoy it on a hot, summer day. My favorite in the wintertime is probably a warm, fudge brownie.”

“That first one sounds very fun. I don’t know if it has a name, but I’m going to call it RBF a la Agatha. Your wintertime one is a classic.” Rio tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash and looked at the menu hanging overhead.

“RBF?” Agatha tilted her head, trying to figure out what she meant. “Oh. Root beer float?”

Rio nodded, shrugging.

Agatha laughed and shook her head, heading to the trash to toss her own empty cup. “It’s better than what I call it.”

“What do you call it?” she said.

“Agatha’s Trash Snack.” Her face warmed. “I’ve never said it out loud.”

When Agatha returned to stand next to her, she stood a little closer. Their shoulders touched as they stared at the menu together.

Agatha could feel Rio’s body jostle with the laughter. “Trash snack?”

There was amusement in her tone, not judgement, and Agatha laughed along with her.

“Yeah. I don’t know. It was just what I called it in my head.” Agatha shrugged. “It’s silly.”

“It’s definitely silly but precious.” Rio pointed to the counter. “Did you want any of this?”

“Would you split that with me?” Agatha pointed to a piece of cake.

“Sure.” Rio glanced around, looking for the worker who had left them alone.

He emerged from the back room with his hands full of cups. Rio watched him refill the cup station behind the counter and waited for him to check on them. Once he was done, he walked over and took their order.

Agatha hung back a little, nervous to see how Rio treated a stranger waiting on her. She watched Rio with him, feeling a strange relief. She was polite, treated him like a person, chatted with him, joked. She even put a tip in the tip jar. Agatha chewed on her lip, feeling a strong affection for the woman. Everything about the interaction was a stark contrast to how her mother treated “the help” or anyone she perceived as beneath her.

Rio turned around with a wide smile, holding a small plate with the piece of cake on it with two forks and napkins. “Do you want to eat inside or outside?”

Agatha blinked several times, trying to hide her smile. “Um, outside if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. What’s with the smile?” Rio scanned her face.

“You are…” Agatha held the door open for her. “A breath of fresh air.”

Rio cocked her head to the side. She set the cake down on the table and sat down.

Agatha sat down across from her.

“What do you mean?” She handed her the other fork and a napkin.

“Thanks,” Agatha said, taking the fork and napkin. “I mean that you are really good with people. And you’re just…nice to be around and interact with. You’re…pleasant.”

Rio laughed. Her face scrunched up with amusement. “I’m pleasant?”

Agatha’s face warmed again. “Yeah. Again, my mom just sucks.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, understanding coming to her. “Oh, I see. Your mom would have been a dick in there, huh?”

“Yeah.” Agatha nodded and took a bite of the cake. She focused on her bite, deciding whether she wanted to say anything else about her mom in that moment. She shrugged and swallowed.

“This is really good cake,” she said.

Rio was chewing her first bite. She nodded and wiped her mouth. They ate the cake in silence. After several bites, Rio stood up.

“I’ll be right back.” She went inside and spoke to the guy at the counter. She came back with a bottle of water.

“We’re eating cake without anything to drink. Absolute goober move.” She took a sip from the water and then offered it to Agatha. “Oh, if you don’t want to drink after me, I won’t be offended. I can get you your own!”

Agatha took the bottle being offered before Rio could run back inside. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m assuming we’ll be expected to be seen kissing in public at some point soon. I can drink after you no problem.”

Rio laughed and sat down. “Right, right. Um, also, about that. I’ve got a clean bill of health in that department. But if it would make you more comfortable, I can get tested again.”

“Oh, right.” Agatha took her final bite of cake. “Um, yeah, we could go get tested together. I haven’t had a chance since breaking it off with Jen.”

Rio nodded, finishing off her last bite. “Okay, works for me.”

Agatha grabbed the water bottle sitting between them on the table and took another drink, taking in the cars passing by and the shops on the other side of the street. She saw a record store and gasped.

Rio jerked her head in that direction, following Agatha’s gaze. “What?”

“Could we go there?” she said, subtly pointing to the Penny’s Records.

“Oh my god, I thought something crazy had happened,” she said, laughing. “Yeah, of course. Do you like records?”

“Yeah, I’m not allowed to have a whole collection or anything, because ‘it takes up too much space’ or whatever.” She rolled her eyes, waving away the thought.

“We’ll get a record player when we get our own place,” Rio said, looking both ways before crossing the street.

Agatha walked along beside her. “Thanks. I’m really looking forward to this place of ours.”

“Me, too.” Rio noticed the way the sun caught in Agatha’s hair and refrained from reaching out to touch it as they stepped on to the shadow-ridden sidewalk. “I was thinking more about the place last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Agatha glanced at her, wondering what it would be like to hold her hand.

“Yeah,” Rio said, opening the door to the record shop. “I was thinking we could have like a front room, where it looks exactly as our parents expect. Then, if you move a particular book on the bookshelf, it opens up into our real home. Where everything is all the way we want it to be.”

With the door open, the record store had warm lighting and rows and rows of records. Agatha was so focused on the image Rio was painting that she missed the sign that said, “Watch Your Step!” right inside the front door.

Agatha stumbled, and Rio caught her quickly.

“I’ve got you.” Rio helped her regain her balance, holding on until Agatha slowly let go.

“Thank you.” Agatha gingerly stepped up and pointed down at the step. “Careful, some people trip on that their first time here.”

Laughing, Rio very mindfully took the step and linked arms with Agatha. “Mind being my buddy for the remainder of this? Just in case there are more unexpected steps.”

Agatha chuckled, sliding her eyes over to Rio. “Sure.”

“Hello, welcome to Penny’s Records. Let me know if you need anything!” An older guy with long hair said from behind a cart full of records. He was hidden behind the cart, pulling something from the bottom shelf.

“Thank you!” Rio said. “We will.”

Agatha held on to Rio’s arm, realizing it was the first time she was touching her bare skin. She swallowed and eyed the records, suddenly unable to remember how to speak. She ran her fingers over Rio’s forearm, feeling a rush at how nice it felt. She felt goosebumps break out across Rio’s skin.

Agatha glanced at her. Rio was watching her with curiosity in her eyes and a gentle smile on her lips. She quickly looked away, but her fingers were still tracing small patterns on her arm. She felt stuck in the motion.

“Sorry,” she said, quietly. “I can stop.”

“Don’t be. You’re fine.” Rio shrugged. “My body reacted. It feels nice. Don’t stop on my account.”

Agatha continued letting her fingers wander over her skin as they walked. She looked at the different records. “What’s your favorite music or musician or what do you listen to?”

She stopped in front of a set of records and riffled through with her free hand, letting Agatha keep her other arm.

She said, “Hm, that’s a tough one. I’ll give you my top three: Lana Del Rey, Taylor Swift, and Fall Out Boy. What about you?”

Agatha flipped through the records in front of her, reluctantly letting go of Rio to do so. She considered the question, unsure what to pick. Finally, she said, “Hm, my top three right now are probably Chappell Roan, Florence and the Machine, and Taylor Swift.”

Rio nodded. “Nice, those are fun.”

“Same to yours.” Agatha had stopped rummaging through the records and was staring at Rio, who had moved to using two hands for her perusal. “What are you looking for?”

Rio shrugged. “Nothing in particular, just kind of looking.”

She nodded glanced at her arm. “Nice.”

Rio noticed the glance and held her hand out for Agatha. Gently, she said, “Want my arm or my hand?”

Agatha laughed and took her hand. “Sorry. Your skin’s soft and it…felt nice.”

Rio squeezed her hand. “Don’t be sorry. I said it felt nice, too. I’ll give you my arm again in a second, okay? I wasn’t trying to tease you. I was genuinely asking your preference.”

Rio finished looking through the row of records and linked arms with Agatha. “Wanna walk over to my makeshift studio?”

“Walk?” Agatha’s eyes went wide. “Is it nearby?”

“Yeah, that’s how I found this area.” Rio didn’t comment on Agatha’s wandering fingers, but she smiled when she felt fingers sliding up her elbow and back down her forearm.

“I’d love to see it.” Agatha felt goosebumps erupt under her fingertips and smiled, following Rio out the door, both of them careful not to trip.

They rounded the corner where restaurants and shops lined both sides of the street. They wandered until the shops and restaurants turned into residential homes and businesses disguised as houses. Eventually, they came to an intersection where a storage unit facility advertised climate-controlled units.

They hurried across the crosswalk and walked through the parking lot for the facility. Rio led her to a keypad where she entered a code, causing the gate to open.

“Mine is in that building,” Rio said, pointing at a tall building near the back of the complex, behind the outside units.

“Very cool,” she said, feeling an excitement grow in her chest. Her fingers had stilled on the walk, but she continued to grip Rio’s forearm securely. She gave her arm a squeeze. “This is really exciting.”

Once they arrived at the unit, Rio pulled the door open and revealed a stack of canvases, an easel, a toolbox full of art supplies, and several black cases with padlocks on them.

“Art stuff is all the stuff that’s out, and the padlocked boxes are my cameras.” She pulled out a lawn chair and opened it. “I usually just come here by myself, so I just have the one chair, but I can get a second one if you want to have one here.”

Rio felt her neck and face warming at the suggestion; she gestured to the chair and rubbed her neck and avoided looking at Agatha. “That’s if you wanted to spend time here with me. You don’t have to, of course. I just wanted to offer.”

Agatha tilted her head, watching the other woman get flustered. She licked her lips.

“That would be great, Rio. I’d love to spend time with you here. But hopefully, it won’t be for long. Hopefully, we can find a house quickly.”

Rio spun around and faced her, dropping her hand from her hair. “Right!”

Rio’s smile was so bright that it caused Agatha to smile back just as big. Agatha felt the urge to be near her. She stepped forward and hugged Rio, who hugged her back enthusiastically, as the breath got knocked from her just a little.

“What’s this for?” Rio said, catching her breath.

“For being endearing.” Agatha breathed in deeply, holding on to her tightly.

Rio held her, rubbing her back gently. She looked around the unit and wondered what it would be like to have her own studio at home.

[teaandransacking]

I loved your lockwood x reader smut. Could you possibly do another one where anthony is being really needy and loud and the reader is teasing him about it?

There are NOT enough lockwood x reader spicy fics so it would be great if‘d give it a go.

Btw you’re very talented

Thanks so much!

I did stray a bit from the brief but I hope you like this.

Wrecked

Words: 997 ~ Content: heavy petting, allusions to sex, curse words

a/n: I feel like a little gremlin in this Lockwood pit, but I don't want to be thrown a ladder. Maybe ever.

There’s no fucking privacy in this house.

Usually, you don’t mind. It’s fun and comforting, normally, for you, George, Lucy and Lockwood to live in each other’s pockets, always eating three meals a day together, doing laundry together, watching films together.

But sometimes, especially since you and Lockwood confessed your feelings for each other, you just want to have the house to yourself.

To do things you really can’t do in close proximity to the others.

So, when some eccentric billionaire on the South Bank throws a party in his mansion and Flo invites you all to watch the fireworks from the bank of the Thames, you and Lockwood politely decline.

George gives you the side-eye. Lucy says, “Probably best that we’re out. I don’t want to hear what you’re going to get up to.”

The day seems to drag until finally, the clock creeps around to six, and Lucy and George leave in a flurry of goodbyes and the clunking of boots and coats being dragged on.

Lockwood closes the door and leans his back against it, his gaze finding yours. “At last.”

You waste no time, grasping the open edges of his hoodie and dragging him into you. Your mouths meet and it feels like forever since you’ve kissed, properly, without worrying about being interrupted by one of your housemates or a call from Inspector Barnes or a request to dispatch a haunting.

“I feel like it’s been forever since I had you alone,” you agree.

His arms come around you and then slide down to your hips, settling you against him, and it’s clear that his body has gone from 0 to 60 in a heartbeat.

“You’re keen,” you purr against his mouth.

“Darling, you have no idea, he says huskily. “Bedroom, if you please. As distracting as the thought of bending you over a stair is-”

“You’ve thought about that?”

He gestures to the window above the door. “Do you remember that day last week? It was early afternoon. Sunny. You came down the stairs just as I got home. The sunshine hit your hair just so…” He strokes his fingers through the strands “..and I was transfixed. I’m used to seeing you in the dark, and you’re beautiful, but in the daylight….” He swallows and kisses your forehead. “You’re unforgettable.”

Emotion surges inside you at his sentimentality. It’s one of the things you love about him. He’s been through so much, but he still loves with his whole heart, has still opened himself to Lucy and George and you, even though it must be scary to do so.

“Stop. I can barely handle how gorgeous your voice is. When you’re saying stuff like that, I can’t think.”

His mouth drops to your cheek, and his hand in your hair moves to cup the back of your neck. “Maybe I like it when you can’t think straight. Maybe I want you wrecked.”

Oh, God.

The mouth on this man is going to destroy you. 

“Bed, bed, bed,” you chant, tugging his hoodie and walking backwards until your heels meet the stairs.

“No backwards walking,” Lockwood admonishes softly. “I want you there in one piece.”

You reluctantly turn, taking his hand, and you rush up the stairs, fingers tangled together, like excited children running towards a playground.

By unspoken agreement you go to Lockwood’s room (it’s closer). You both reach the bed and then you push him down on it, and he looks up at you breathlessly, like you’re his beginning and end. Like you’re everything, and in that moment you look into his big brown eyes and you think you can see his soul.

“Please,” he murmurs. “Please, touch me. Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Promise you won’t shut up?” you smile, lying down beside him.

“Promise that I won’t?” he asks, softly, flashing that megawatt grin.

You trail your index finger from his collarbone down to his belly button and watch as his breath hitches. 

“Promise that you won’t,” you repeat. “We’re alone for the first time in bloody ages, and the way you were last time…” You trace your finger along the waistband of his jeans. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

A rosy flush creeps up his neck. “I was loud.”

“I loved it.” You resume your exploration, taking your finger on the path delineated by the zipper of his jeans,

He bucks under you. “Please.”

His voice gets like this when he’s needy - half an octave lower, huskier. His pupils get lust blown, his cheeks get just a little pink, and he’s even more beautiful like this. He might have teased you earlier about wanting you wrecked, but it’s he who is now, spread out like an offering, primed to blow at your touch and your touch alone.

You pull the zipper down. “Use your words.”

“Please touch me,” he keens, and his hands are balled into fists at his sides, and he’s struggling for control.

You watch his face as you gently part the slit in his boxers and free him out, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip as you palm him greedily. 

“Oh, fuck yes. Do that. Please.”

His eyes flutter closed. He really does have that whole long-lashes-high-cheekbone thing going on, and it does it for you in a big way.

You take your time pleasuring him, your gaze on his face, drinking up all his lip-biting and uttered curses and best of all, his needy pleas, and for the rest of the evening, you completely and thoroughly rock his world.

Turnabout is fair play, though, and in the morning, he makes good on his promise to absolutely wreck you. 

You don’t make it downstairs for breakfast.

[redheadspark]

Barry Keoghan March Prompt 2 please and thank you 💙

A/N - Aww this is adorable! I made this nice and short and cute for you to read, I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting!

Hold

Summary - Barry loves holding your hand

Warning - Just fluff :)

“Alright, how does your month look for our holiday?” 

“Looks, good. The awards season is done and I have a solid month open before my next project,”

“Perfect!  And….done, we’re officially going on holiday,”

Barry chuckled as you slammed the Laptop shut in relief, he reached over to lace your fingers together from across the tiny coffee table between the pair of you.  The rest of the shop was mostly deserted, except for a few patrons who were working on their own computers or reading. With the pattering of rain and the sun attempting to push through the storm clouds that were rolling by, you and Barry wanted to hide out in a coffee shop and have some one-on-one time together.  It was one of your favorite coffee shops, you found a spot tucked away from the windows and out of the public eye since Barry was not being recognized out and about.  He loved his stardom, he truly did, but he also loved having time away from set or paparazzi could be your boyfriend.

One of his favorite things to do with you was hold your hand.

Sure it seemed like it was such a simple thing to do, but he loved having your hand in his.  Anytime he could, he would hold your hand and keep it tucked tight.  Walking together shoulder to shoulder, watching a movie together cuddled on the couch, even falling asleep together when he would cuddle you close in his embrace.  Something about having your hand in his, it felt like Ana char for him with how fast things were moving in his life.

“Where are we goin’?” He asked you as you took a long sip from your latte.

“Not going to tell you,” You hummed as an answer, seeing him cock up an eyebrow at you, “As someone who has connections to travel agents, this holiday is going to be amazing for us.  Just be prepared to dress for warmth,”

“Ah, so I need my speedo?” He joked, and you giggled as he grinned from ear to ear.

“You would want to bring your speedo when we go under the sun,” You teased, “But you can’t get a sunburn or else your publicist will kill me,”

“Eh, she won’t do a thing to you,” Barry reassured you as he scooted over to be right next to you, wrapping a spare arm around your shoulders to tuck you in a bit closer next to him.  Your hands were still connected on top of the table, his thumb stroking your skin back and forth along our hand as he spoke again, “She’s a great publicist, but wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I know, that’s why I like her: she's kind but she keeps you in check when you’re away,” You explained, Barry kissing the top of your head.

“You make it seem like I’m a bad boy,” he commented, though he saw you smile as he poked your side, “You think I am, don’t ya?”

“Never said that,” You replied with a laugh as he poked your side again. Barry loved this banter between the pair of you, ever since you met two years ago thanks to a mutual friend who introduced the pair of you at a wrap party from one of his independent films.  Barry instantly liked you, from how you laughed at one of the corny pickup lines another bloke tried on you, to how you were asking him plenty of questions about acting and what method he liked the best.  He could tell you genuinely liked him as a person, not as an actor or a movie star.  He asked you for your number, and you two have been a pair since then.

He was an actor who thrived and craved privacy, especially when it came to his personal life.  He wanted to have his relationship with you as private as possible, not wanting to have public dates or extravagant vacations.  In fact, he was the opposite, wanting to find little tucked-away restaurants to eat at or small getaways with no prying eyes.  He saw now that acting life can tear families and relationships apart, and the one main thing he never wished for was to have his life with you tainted and ruined.  But you never cared, not when you had your own life to deal with and your workload keeping you busy most days.

Still, little by little, you were known as his girlfriend.  Barry taking you to a couple of premiers, dropping your name at interviews and talk shows, even walking with you side by side with the paparazzi catching the image at the right moment.  He could see that you were no wallflower when it came to being in the spotlight from time to time.  Sometimes the gossip columns and tabloids did get to you once or twice, but you were they were lies and not even close to the truth.  

Barry loved having your hand in his when times were tough or when he was too stressed, It brought him inner peace and tranquility.  If he could, he would hold your hand all the time and never let you go.  Sure it seemed possessive, but he didn’t care. Barry cared about you and how you moved him from the inside out.  Even seeing pictures of the two of you holding hands out in public, at a premiere or a party would always put butterflies in his stomach and make his heart swell.  

He never felt like this with any other girlfriend, not for a long time.  

“So, this warm holiday, am I going to be seeing you in a gorgeous swimsuit?” He asked you in a coy tone.

“Maybe, along with some of my favorite books to read and plenty of sunshine for the pair of us to share together,” You explained, “And it’s going to be at least 5 days too, so pack plenty of clothes…or not.”

“Hey!” He snorted, the pair of you laughing at the light antics between you two in your booth. He looked down at your joined hands, feeling the warmth of your palm against his own and your soft hands against his calloused fingers.  He knew he wanted to hold your hand forever and beyond that as well.  

Inwardly, he was glad that you planned this holiday out for the pair of you to enjoy.  He had other plans that he was going to make with you, given the small ring box that he stored away in his dresser drawer back at his flat.  He dreamed of placing a tiny diamond on your finger, for some time actually. 

But you planning the holiday made it just a pinch sweeter.

The End

Spring Prompt Session

[labialockercolourised]

Ultra-modern tasteful gay-core Sims 4 Phouse (or rather, my take on a Phouse)

I love building in the Sims and I felt inspired to build a house based off what Dan has shared he likes in decor. Then I thought what even was the point of building a house inspired by Dan if Phil is not a part of it, so I built a phouse. I think I demolished my build around 5 times before I finally got something I was happy with.

Also check out @danisnotonfirebrand's Phouse build as well as @vampiregway's Dan and Phil Sims :D I used a fair amount of cc (Harrie and Felix, Myshuno Sun, Pierisim, The Clutter Cat, My Cup of CC)

Here's the house from the front. There are minimal windows on the outer sides of the house largely for privacy reasons. I still didn't close off the front of the house because aesthetics and it is the Sims

Here's a top-down view of the house and the floorplan. The house is constructed in a C-shape around a central courtyard with a Japanese oak in the center. This allows for floor-to-ceiling windows and an indoor-outdoor feel/view of nature without compromising on privacy.

The entryway and hallways are fairly minimal, I didn't want to clutter them up with too much furniture. The downstairs toilet and stairs are housed in the entryway. The black walls carry up to the first floor. This is also the first time I've used that side table from Blooming Rooms

The sexy, moody watercloset. POV you're shitting. I ended up using the labia lights...they're funny but also...some of the best ceiling lights in the game. Sorry for the fish-eye in a few of these screenshots, it was the only way

The hallway comes off the entryway and leads to the kitchen. It also houses the doorway to the office and an exit the courtyard with a moss lawn

The office.... I'll be honest, I didn't do much with the office. There is a "video station" but it's ugly and didn't fit so I didn't use it. I didn't feel like creating a filming set-up either ( Designer chair #1 (Grete Jalk Bow Chair)

The kitchen. They used the barstools from Harrie in the new sims house and that made me happy so I used them here too. Sexy under-cabinet lighting, a coffee bar, a spacious island, a view to the outside, and an indoor plant wall. I'm not showing the pantry because..boring, but it's there

The dining room... I realised trying to put the grand piano in the living room was way too ambitious and the dining room was looking a bit bare, so it ended up in the dining room.

The living room. Look, I built the house with a picture window in the living room to frame the Christmas tree from the outside so here's a shot with the tree and without the tree. It feels a bit bare to me but it was also the last room I decorated (Samsung framed TV) (Designer Chair #2 (Eames Loung chair))

Upstairs hallway/stair landing. Another picture window this time actually framing a view of the outside as opposed to the inside. A built-in succulent planter. Also leads to the only bathroom and the front balcony

The bathroom. This room was such a pain and I'm still not fully satisfied with it but alas (there was not enough wall space for all the towels). A large walk-in shower, a backlit mirror, closed storage under the sink, and a bathtub in front of a window overlooking the courtyard. (I chose the largest tub I could find even though it doesn't matter since all sims are the same height

Phil's bedroom. Went for more colour in here. The tiny twavellers tree bookcase has a lion plushy on one of the shelves :D Also I wanted just the slightest hints of post-modern design. Look, I know they said they're "carpet in the bedroom" kind of people, but I simply refuse, so I gave them fluffy rugs instead.

Phil's room has a balcony with a lounger and a small fountain which overlooks the green roof over the dining room.

Dan's bedroom. I regret not being able to fit walk-in closets but oh well. Instead of a balcony, this room has a fireplace (I figured it was best to not give Phil the room with the fireplace), there is a balcony right outside this bedroom tho, so that's basically Dan's balcony. Also the ZZ plant whoops. (Designer Chair #3 (Eames rocking chair))

[kaiso-woo]

Sunshine to the Moon

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> Masterlist　

PART 4 of my ‘Stay Series’ - a long hypothesised journey of a relationship between Bang Chan and Reader.

WC: 4.2k | Synopsis: Slice of Life, another night after closing shop. Your Café has gotten busier thanks to that Skz-Code Episode filmed there finally being released. Tonight however, Chris is here to brighten the night. This is the first time you both admit to loving each other by the way - but it’s cute I promise.

Notes: FLUFF, Angst (if you squint, and I mean really squint), Second Person Narration, Skz Fluent in English, Swearing, Idol!Chan, Barista!Chan, CaféOwner!Reader, Fem!Reader, Cringe Cringe-Cheesy-Corny-Slight Suggestiveness-Insufferable Flirt (Thanks Chris), Shirtless!Chan (IT’S BED TIME), Swearing, Pet Names Used (Jagiya, Jagi, Baby, Sweetie, Love), Kisses (Duh)

Here for a reading marathon? Head right back to the start!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Overall ‘Stay Series’ Synopsis: Bang Chan experiences the suic!des of Stays, so when you lot choose to die, he dies right along with you. Reader is the “antidote” to this condition - NOT MENTIONED IN THIS PARTICULAR FIC

PART 4

!!Casual reminder this is entirely fictitious - Chris/Christopher in my work does not represent the actual Bang Chan - this is purely my imagination and nothing more - this goes for all other SKZ-Members too!!

—

It’s been another tiring day. Perhaps even more chaotic than ever before. Chris had given you warning, but JYPE had only just released the Skz Code Episode that they filmed ages ago here. Chris had argued to have it released at a later date, to protect your privacy and give you more time to live normally before things suddenly changed.

He was right of course, with Stay’s being the detectives they are, and Stray Kids being the famous idols they are, your Café was soon discovered, and before long you had a stream of customers flowing in and out practically around the clock. They’d take photos where the members sat, ask if they left messages around the place, ask you so many questions about them that you didn’t feel you had the right to answer.

Even with Ashley by your side, doing her best to help keep the business afloat on a daily basis things were strained. You’ve just recently set up an application process for new employees because dear lord, you needed them. Ashley even suggested adjusting your usual policy, which you were hesitant to do at first, but eventually caved at the exhaustion evident in your poor, younger friend and employee. 

Customers were no longer allowed to stay overnight, and you closed at 11pm rather than 1am now. It was perhaps your least favourite thing to do – going around to wake up sleeping customers when it was time to close shop. Chris was right, Ashley is bright… and awfully considerate. She even considered that it’d be beneficial for your relationship with Chris, closing shop early, so you can spend more time together when he’s here.

Naturally, Chris can no longer help you at the coffee machine, even if he wears a full disguise, Stay’s would recognise him immediately. Whenever he visits, he can’t do much except lounge around in your upstairs apartment. It pains you to have to lock him up, but both of you know you can’t risk a scandal. Previously, Ashley would be able to hold the fort, allowing you and Chris to escape out on a little date, but not now… now you’re too busy to leave Ash by herself. You really really need new employees. Preferably people who aren’t Stay’s… so you can explain your relationship with Chris and not have them leak any information. 

This… this is too much.

–

You sigh and rest your forehead on the cold glass of the window. You’re meant to be pulling down the shutters, having finally kicked James out of your Café. As per usual, he was asking too many questions, wondering why you’re suddenly so busy. He asked you out again the other day, and you finally snapped. You told him, straight and clear, that you were taken. In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea, because he now spends a lot of his time asking you who you’re dating; of course, you can’t tell him.

A pitiful groan rumbles through your throat, and you try to quell the hurricane of thoughts swirling incessantly in your mind. The chill of the glass is a small reprieve, but it still hurts to think.

“Jagiya… baby, are you okay?” someone calls out to you. Your heart leaps into your throat at the endearment, and you muster the energy to spin yourself around, eyes lazily falling onto the man standing at the bottom of the staircase, his face distorted in concern.

“Another boring day for you, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, Chris,” you murmur, dragging yourself towards him with your head drooping. He meets you halfway, immediately pulling you into a tight embrace and placing an affectionate kiss on the top of your head, “Sweetie it’s okay. I’m perfectly happy to work on our songs all day.”

You sigh into his shirt and twist the fabric in your hands desperately, your heart aching, “You might be but I’m not…” you pull away so you can see his face and pout sadly, “You’re meant to be here on break, not working away.”

His soft smile causes your heart to melt, the ache only intensifying after he pecks your nose with a delicate kiss, “Jagi. You’re working, so why can’t I?”

You frown at him and lightly thump your forehead into his chest several times, frustrated, “We both shouldn’t be working.” His hand drifts up to knot itself in your hair, stopping your actions, “Shhh shh, don’t be like that baby.” You grumble and pull away from him properly, but not before he swoops in to kiss your cheek. 

“It isn’t so bad… once you finish closing up we can hang out, yeah?” his eyes are sparkling mischievously, and you sigh in resignation, knowing that he’s right. You turn to finish closing the shutters, and Chris continues to talk, “Besides, I’m the one who should be apologising…” The shutter hits the ground with a little click, “Why?”

“If I hadn’t asked to film that episode here your business would never have gotten this busy,” he frowns, absently fiddling with the sleeve of his hoodie. You swivel on your heel and stalk up to him, “Don’t-” you lightly pinch his arm, “-you say that. Ever.”

Chris smiles shyly down at you, his gaze sorrowful, guilty. You shake your head at him, grab his wrist and tug him along up the stairs, “Come on, you go wash up and I’ll whip up a late dinner, if you haven’t eaten already.” 

Chris pushes ahead of you suddenly, opening your apartment door with an elegant twist of the door handle, “There’s no need baby, dinner’s in the fridge. I’ll heat your share up for you.”  You blink at him in confusion, but he merely grins back at you. “You… cooked me dinner?”

Chris snatches at your waist and pulls you in for a swift kiss, stunning you, “Anything to make your life easier.”

–

After half an hour of arguing with Chris about why he shouldn’t have cooked dinner for you (in which you only shut up after he physically shoved food into your mouth), you’re now sitting comfortably in your bed, blankets pulled over your knees, as your eyes skim the page of the book you’re reading. Chris insisted you wash up first, so you’re currently waiting for him to finish up in the bathroom.

“Tomorrow’s Wednesday isn’t it?” He asks, emerging from the bathroom in only his boxers. Your eyes briefly flicker from your book to the defined lines of his abs, before you return to nonchalantly reading, “Yeah. Café’s closed tomorrow.” “You can look longer you know,” Chris grins, his arms crossed over his chest. “Shut up,” you grumble back, turning to the next page of your book.

Chris giggles happily and crawls into the bed next to you, his arms immediately taking residence around your waist despite you sitting upright. “Mmh you smell good,” he mumbles, and you spare him a glance. His nose is buried in your shirt, his hair askew over his eyes. Carefully, you brush the curls away, and he snuggles even closer, “I just showered.” 

Chris’ voice comes out muffled, “Okay and? I just showered and I don’t smell as good as you.”  This elicits a small chuckle from you, “Maybe you should start using my products then.” He inhales obnoxiously and then sighs in content, “I think I will.”

“Chris, I’ll be back, I've got to turn the lights off,” you murmur, massaging his scalp briefly. He only tightens his hold on you, a little whine escaping, “No. You stay.” “Baby let me go please.” “No.” “You literally left them on.”  Chris sighs and rolls away from you, his displeasure evident on his face, “Fineeee.”

You roll your eyes at him and pad over to the bathroom, hyper aware of your boyfriend watching your every movement. He sits up as you amble over to turn off the light for the bedroom, your thumb holding the current page in the book you’re reading. Finally, in the darkness, you fumble around for the lamp beside your bed so you can continue reading for a little longer. Its warm glow reveals Chris still watching you, a half-smile, half-smirk plastered on his face.

As you crawl back into bed and try to get comfortable, Chris chuckles and leans his head back onto the headboard, “You might as well call me that lamp,” he begins, eyes boring into the ceiling as though something fascinating was up there.

“Why…?” you pause, preparing yourself for the inevitable joke you’re about to hear. Chris grins evilly, and tilts his head towards you lazily, “Because you turn me on.” You hiss and make to whack him on the head with your book, but his reflexes kick in and he swiftly grabs your wrist.

“Oh I knew you were going to do that,” he laughs, leaning over so he can kiss a trail of warmth down your trapped arm. Your eyes are wide as he grins sinfully up at you, his tongue poking his cheek playfully. “Go to bed you little shit,” you gripe, yanking your wrist away from him and turning the lamp off in a rash decision. 

At least he can’t see the crimson blush on your face now.

“Awh… you don’t want to read anymore?” he mocks, his arms finding home around your waist again, pulling you in close so he’s spooning you, his breath tickling the back of your neck. “Nope. We’re sleeping now,” you demand, linking one of your hands with one of his that’s on your stomach.

The pair of you settle into silence, your mind drifting off into haze at the steady sound of Chris’ breathing, the rise and fall of his chest pressed against your back. You’ve been absently tracing his knuckles, trying to memorise the specific rise and fall of each, and the spacing between them. After a while, you stop, not because you want to, but because your mind has fallen deep into that state of fuzziness between almost falling asleep and being barely conscious.

“Is it possible to get… water hungry?” Chris murmurs, dragging you out of your semi-slumber. “Hmm?” you croak, as Chris adoringly rubs his nose on the back of your neck, making you shiver. You can feel him grin at your reaction, and you’re half tempted to shove him away from you so you can sleep in peace.

“Water hungry. Is that a thing?” he repeats, and the question properly registers in your brain.  You frown and shimmy yourself around, so your noses are now touching. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you squint to try and see his eyes in the darkness, “Do you mean thirsty?” 

A small smile cracks onto your face when Chris inhales sharply and stops breathing. After a loud silence, he makes a noise of embarrassment, and you giggle lightly. “I think I’m tired,” he whispers, trying to inch himself even closer to you. “Then go to sleep,” you scoff, closing your eyes again. “Can’t,” he bites back. “Why not?”

“You’re not hugging me,” Chris’ leg shifts to tangle itself in between yours, and after another little giggle, you wrap your arms around his waist, resuming your soothing rubs on his back this time. “Your hands are cold,” he complains against your lips.

“Then put on a damn shirt.”  “Awh but you like it when I’m not wearing one.” Stomach swooping, you blow sharply on his face in feigned annoyance, causing him to draw back slightly with a laugh. “Go to fucking sleep,” you say once more, because clearly he didn’t understand you the first time.

–

Later on in the night, the bathroom summons you, and with a quiet grumble, you roll yourself out of bed. Thankfully, Chris has drifted over to his side of the bed in his sleep and doesn’t have himself tangled around you. Carefully, you click on your lamp and tiptoe to use the toilet. 

When you’re done, you decide you don’t really want to go back to bed yet. Instead, you crawl over to sit cross-legged on the floor, analysing your boyfriend’s face in the half-light of the room. He’s snoring gently, his lips slightly parted. Your heart softens at the way his cheek is squished up against his arm, strands of his curly hair clinging adorably to his forehead.

You hoist yourself up onto your knees and brush the strands back, heart swelling as your gratitude for his existence threatens to tumble out of your mouth. No, you must stay quiet. Don’t wake him, he needs to sleep. You’re still stroking his hair back softly, your thumb brushing his forehead delicately when his snoring stops.

You gulp and pull away from him, hurrying back around the bed so you can crawl back under the covers, Chris’ back to you. Still, you don’t turn the lamp off, not entirely finished with admiring him, even from behind. His back is slightly exposed to you after you had pulled the covers down to get out of bed, and you make no move to hide it again. 

It’s in this moment, smiling gently at his figure, your heart full to the brim, that you realise it all over again. He’s yours. You’re his. You’d die for this man. You’d play limbo with the devil just to crawl your way back up to him. You’d pledge your life to counting the stars if he so asked. It doesn’t matter that it would take forever, because your forever lies within him.

You shuffle closer, and after a brief hesitation, begin to happily trace the lines of his back muscles, relishing in the softness of his skin. You pause, checking to make sure he’s still sleeping, and then continue your drawing motions. You’re lost in thought, thinking about where you could possibly take him out to tomorrow because you’re finally free. Your gaze is watching your fingers absently move, but you’re not really paying attention. It’s after a minute of repeating the same action that you realise what you’ve done.

Subconsciously, you’ve been writing the same words over and over on his back. You stop, fingers ghosting his skin, and swallow. Then one more time, confirming it for yourself, you rewrite the same words.

I Love You

You do. You love him. You love- you love him. This sudden understanding causes you to gasp slightly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You trace the lines again, a little faster this time, fully picturing the words on his back. 

Chris abruptly rolls over, his eyes immediately boring into yours, and your hand snaps up to your mouth in an attempt to stifle your surprise. He’s smiling softly, eyes crinkling in delight.vSlowly, he reaches for the hand covering your mouth, opening your palm out to him. With a single finger, he lightly traces your palm, and you realise almost instantly that he’s writing letters, one by one. 

He's nibbling his bottom lip slightly in concentration, and when he finishes, his eyes flicker back up to you. You know of course, exactly what he’s written there, each stroke of his finger sending the letters jolting towards your heart. You had just spent the past few minutes writing the exact same thing on his back. You’re still silent though, trying to process, mind whirring faster than it ever has before. Chris takes your silence as confusion and begins to write the words again, as gentle as the first time.

He's halfway through writing “love” when you slip your wrist out from his hand and promptly bury your face into his chest, hands snaking around his back tightly.

“Are you serious?” you whisper, curling up on yourself, face burning. “Are you?” he whispers back, caressing the back of your head. You pull away from him and sit up, eyes wide with shock. He stares right back at you, waiting for your answer, his dark eyes searching yours. You lean down and peck his forehead, “I love you,” then his right cheek, “I love you,” his nose, “I love you,” his chin. 

You kiss him everywhere you can possibly reach from his shoulders up, avoiding his lips for whatever instinctive reason, repeating those same words over and over again, a mantra.  Your actions reduce Chris to a mess of giggles and happy laughs, “Okay, okay, okay!”

He grabs the back of your head and roughly pulls you in for a real kiss, but his lips are soft against yours, tender. When you pull away, your lips still linger, and it is like this that you feel and hear him say the disastrous words back, “I love you too.” Your laugh comes out as a breathy giggle, and suddenly you’re kissing him again, everywhere you can. “Baby, baby,” he laughs, “Stop it.”

But you can’t. You literally, physically can’t. Somehow you’ve managed to crawl on top of him, straddling his bare chest. Chris grabs your shoulders and pushes you up, grinning at you from below, “Since when were you this affectionate?” he coos, hands sliding over to cup your face and squish your cheeks. You roll your eyes at him and press on his chest lightly, again, feigning annoyance.

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs with a dopey expression, “My love is adorable.” “Shut up,” you whine, collapsing on top of him and hiding in his neck. My love. My love. My fucking love. “I love you. So much. And you love me back,” Chris laughs, wrapping his arms securely around you, “Wow! You love me back. Wow… This is the best day of my life.” “I said shut up,” you grumble.

–

You wake in the darkness, mind immediately tracking back to your moment of “I love you’s” earlier, butterflies swirling intensely in your stomach. Then you realise the reason you’ve woken up in the dead of night again, is because Chris isn’t sleeping with his arms around you. You roll over and find him sitting up in bed, his headphones snug around his ears, forehead creased in concentration as he clicks away on his laptop. You sit up and place your chin on his shoulder, staring at him with googly eyes. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Chris mumbles, turning his head slightly. “What’re you doing awake?” you ask, carefully slipping the headphones off his head to rest around his neck. “Mmh… inspiration struck me, so I wrote a new song,” his eyes haven’t left his computer screen, even without his headphones on he continues to work.

“Chris it’s 2am,” you sigh, taking over the touchpad to check the time in the top right hand corner, “go back to sleep, love.”  He inhales sharply and fully turns towards you, a slow grin emerging, “You see, that is exactly why I cannot sleep.” You blink at him in confusion, and he elaborates, “You can’t just brush my hair out of my face, spend the next five minutes writing ‘I love you’ over and over again on my back, pepper me with a billion kisses, and then expect me to sleep.”

You grin shyly at him, your head drooping, “Now you’re just making me feel bad because I fell asleep.” “No. No that is not what I-” You interrupt him by reaching over and sliding his computer out of his hands. Carefully, you hit the command to save his work, eyes briefly skimming over the saved title ‘For My Love’. 

“You were inspired to write a song for me?” you chuckle, closing the laptop and removing his headphones from his neck.  Carefully, you place them both on your bedside table, and grope around to pull him down into the bed. You can tell by how warm his face is when you press close that he’s blushing.

“So what if I was?” he asks. “So… I think you’re really cute, but your love wants you to get more sleep,” you giggle, pulling his head underneath your chin.  “Okay…” he mumbles, breath growing laboured with sleep.

–

Chris wakes with his nose buried in your hair, and he immediately grins. He abandons your warmth to grab his phone and check the time. It’s just past 9am, you both should really get up and get going, but he doesn’t particularly feel like it. You roll onto your back in your sleep, and a mischievous glint catches his eye when he notices your shirt hike up a little, revealing your bare stomach.

Chris swiftly scampers into the adjacent office, plucks a random marker from your desk, and then carefully crawls back onto the bed, doing his best to not wake you. He lifts your shirt up a little higher, then with his tongue sticking out, uncaps the marker and writes the message ‘Chris was here!!’ on your stomach, complete with his little dino-worm drawing.

Just as he’s finishing up, you groan and your eyes flutter open, noting the sharp prod of something on your stomach. In a second however, it disappears, and Chris has crawled on top of you. He moves to kiss your cheek, but still hazy with sleep, you don’t register what he’s doing and accidentally move your head.

What was meant to be a wholesome good morning peck turns into a surprising peck on the lips. You stare at him with wide eyes, and his cheeks immediately bloom red. You grin at how embarrassed he is and lean up to give him a legitimate kiss good morning. You’re both grinning like idiots now, and you’ve completely forgotten about whatever it was that Chris was doing on your stomach earlier.

Exactly Chris’ plan. Distraction… successful.

“Good morning sunshine…” he happily chirps, the familiar endearment causing you to smile happily. This time though, you have an idea. “Good morning moonlight,” your smile intensifies as Chris pauses, stunned, and you wriggle your way into a seated position, forcing him to do the same.

“Moonlight?” he questions, his voice cracking slightly in the early morning. “Yeah. Moonlight. ‘Cause even in the darkness you still shine.” Chris blinks at you, then after a second, grabs your arm to pull you into his lap, “Okay sure,” he pecks the top of your head, a favourite action of his, “but you got one thing wrong. If you’re my sunshine and I’m your moonlight… then I shine because you do.”

You laugh and let Chris drag you both under the blankets again, hugging you tightly as if his life depended on it. After a minute of tranquil silence, you yawn, stretch and move to get up and out of bed. Chris doesn't crack open an eye as he grabs your head and forces you back down into the pillow, causing you to yelp.

“Chris! We’ve got to get up now,” you chide, pushing yourself back up and glaring at him. He’s smirking cheekily but his eyes are still closed, and you shake your head at him, “C’mon.” "Who says we have to get up?” he asks, finally staring back at you.

“I do.” You demand, and a little staring contest is initiated, neither of you blinking. Chris begins to pull faces and tease you, but you refuse to give in to his antics. “Okay fine fine,” he relents, “I’m getting up. But come here first.” You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Please,” he adds with a tiny nod. Bewildered, you shuffle over to him, only to scream in shock when he swiftly grabs your shirt and pulls it up over your head. The act is so out of the blue, and he’s unnecessarily strong that you can’t do anything about it. He runs off with your shirt and you curse, chasing him out of the bedroom and into the lounge room.

Chris grins like a mad man, sticking his tongue out at you from the other side of the couch. “Give me my shirt you fucking rascal,” you spit, but you’re grinning just as hard.

“Come and get it,” he teases, waving it around like it’s a flag. You move to one side of the couch, and he moves to the other. You both run in circles around the couch, giggling and yelling. Eventually, out of breath and panting, Chris laughing his heart out with his hands resting on his knees, you decide that this game should come to an end. While he’s occupied, you leap over the top of the couch and tackle him to the ground.

“Oh shit-” Chris wheezes as you wrangle your shirt out of his fist. You’re about to put it back on, when Chris sits up and stops you, struggling to talk properly through his laughter, “Hang on, babe wait. Look down.”

You do, your arms up in the air, halfway through the sleeves of your shirt. It takes you a moment to read his little message, and then with a yell, you use your shirt to whack him repeatedly.

His laughter doesn’t cease even after he’s pulled you on top of him to stop your playful, indignant hits. “God I love you,” he chokes out, resting his head back onto the floor, “Don’t rub it off, leave it there for the rest of today.” “I love you too, but I can’t leave it there, what if people see?” “Who’s going to see it underneath your shirt?” “What if I wanted to wear something cropped today?” “Then wear something cropped. Let the whole world know who you belong to.” “Chris. You know I can’t do that.” “Mmh but I want the whole world to know.” “Christopher.” “Fine fineeeee, okayyyyy. Just don’t wear anything cropped then. Want one of my hoodies?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

-> PART 5 　 -> Masterlist

A/N: Yay! Milestone Event 4 Check!

Feedback is always appreciated, negative and positive alike. I apologise for any editing errors, I’m forever learning.

Until next read! - Kaisowoo

[hereticpriest]

Mercy Chapter 9.5 Knotted

Rating: Explicit 18+

MDNI

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Read on AO3

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

This chapter is entirely porn with zero plot. It is not necessary to read this chapter to continue reading the story. It may not be your cup of tea, so please move on to the next chapter if it isn't something you're interested in. This chapter contains very little science that makes any sense, and runs off the idea of inclusivity that all females and Omegas can get pregnant, and all males and Alphas can get someone pregnant. Thus, the reader is capable of temporarily (or continuously, if desired) growing a phallus. I believe that technically, if I were trying to adhere to existing science, Obi-Wan would be labelled as having a cloaca, but I did not put that much thought into it.

Chapter warnings: PWP, dubious science at best, alien dicks and description thereof, anal sex, rimming, anal fingering, knotting, handjobs (m and f receiving), blowjobs (f receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, body worship, muscle worship, discussion and contemplation of mpreg (male pregnancy), contemplation of removing protection for the purpose of procreation which has technically been previously discussed and agreed to but hasn't been agreed to in this specific instance (though this does not occur, it is just contemplated). Let me know if I missed anything please!

Chapter Nine Point Five - Knotted

The scent of starfruit and forest fires mingles throughout the darkened chambers, spice and sweetness blending in a heavy haze. The door to the chamber has been heavily scented, spice and smoke clinging to the frame to ward off anyone who might dare to come close. The windows of transparisteel have been switched to a frosted privacy film that allows light in while keeping out watchful eyes, and the door has been locked with an emergency code. There’s a dark, wet spot on the settee, and the door to one of the bedrooms is covered in a ray shield generally used for maintaining the sanctity of other bedrooms when some apartment occupants are going through their heat.

“You’re still sure?” You ask, your voice a harsh but desperate whisper as you guide your Omega back towards his nest. He lets out a broken whine instead of answering, frantic as he ruts against your hip, desperate for contact. His trousers are undone, the waistband of his underwear partway down his thighs somewhat restricting his movement and tucked under his balls. The head of his cock is flushed dark red and weeping a steady stream of slick, and your nostrils flare at the heady, sweet scent of his heat pouring from him. Your hands slip into the back of his pants, grabbing handfuls of his ass and parting his cheeks.

I need you to answer me, Omega.

Yes! Yes, I’m sure Alpha, I want you to knot me. Need it! Please, need you inside.

Obi-Wan shivers in your grip, leaning in to bury his face in your neck so he can kiss his way around your mating gland while his hands slide under your tunic to feel your bare skin under his palms. Your fingertips brush across his hole, and you chuff as you find it wet with slick, circling it teasingly with just the barest pressure. Your Omega whimpers against your throat, letting you pull him away from you so that you can turn him around and urge him up into his nest.

”Take your clothes off, baby. Then, I wanna see you present for me, and I want you to ask for it with that pretty voice of yours. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” You ask, and Obi-Wan eagerly obeys, kicking his trousers off his legs while he peels off his overtunic. You watch him as you strip off the remainder of your own clothing - an undertunic, brown trousers that still somehow weren’t dark enough to hide the wet patch on your thigh, and your underwear. With your rut came options unavailable to you at other times. Your last rut was unexpected, and you’d gone with the safest option at the time to avoid any discomfort, but this time you had plenty of time to plan. Female Alphas could, should they desire it, grow a phallus for mating purposes. You’d obviously never had the experience, though it truly wasn’t an uncommon thing at all. When you had discussed having a planned heat and rut together with your Omega when your vacation time lined up conveniently, Obi-Wan had shyly mentioned an interest in being knotted. Reluctantly, of course, blushing the whole way and promising that you didn’t have to if you weren’t interested.

Unsurprisingly, you’d jumped on the opportunity. Which led you to where you were now, examining yourself with curious hands. Your cock isn’t as thick as Obi-Wan’s, thankfully closer to average, but you were around the same length. The skin is a darker pink than the rest of you, flushed purple at the tip, and beading precum. A brief moment of panic overtook you at the sight of your cock when you realized that it didn’t look the same as your Omega’s. You’d never seen a Haelan’s dick before, for obvious reasons, and it only occurred to you while you were examining yourself in a panic that you wouldn’t look the same due to your species. Hopefully, your mate didn’t mind. It’s a nice cock, you acknowledge, despite the differences. The head is fatter than a human, with more of a smooth wedge shape than the typical taper, and three prominent ridges right underneath it. A thick vein runs up the base, and it curves more prominently than your mate’s, though you figure that’ll only help you rub against his prostate so hopefully he won’t have any complaints there.

The rough skin of your deflated knot feels a little odd under your fingertips, but it’s a nice kind of odd. Along the top of your cock are a line of softer, rounder ridges that you imagine will probably feel nice. Truthfully, your cock looks a lot like some of the sex toys you’ve seen in holoads around the lower levels of Coruscant late at night, and those ads always emphasize the concept of toys being ‘ribbed for your pleasure’, so clearly what you have going on is a good thing. Right? Your testicles are internal, but clearly functioning considering the thick drip of precum running down the base of your cock. You’re not as wet as Obi-Wan, but that’s to be expected, you think.

A sharp intake of breath draws you out of your quiet contemplation, and you look up at your Omega for signs of distress, only to find him finally naked and staring at your dick with blown pupils and a gaping mouth. Your cheeks flush purple, and you hesitate where you normally wouldn’t, suddenly self-conscious. Biting your lower lip, you stroke yourself from base to tip, and his gaze follows your hand.

“Is it okay?” You ask, and Obi-Wan purrs, glancing up at your face briefly before returning his gaze to your cock. You feel him reach out to you through the bond, letting you feel his desire, his hunger, and his pleasure at the sight of you ready to take him. You feel his intrigue, and his curiosity at the shape of you.

“Oh, darling. Of course it is. Look at you. Come here, let me taste you.” Your Omega requests, and you approach gingerly. You’ll have him present for you afterwards. For now, you want to know what it feels like to have his mouth on your cock, while you can still handle being gentle with him. Obi-Wan reaches for you the second you’re close enough, hand closing around you and stroking you from base to tip while he leans in to roll the flat of his tongue over the head of your cock. A quiet hum at the taste of you vibrates through him, and thus through you, drawing a groan from your lips. He moans as he takes the tip into his mouth, and you sigh as he begins to suck, running your fingers through his hair gently as he starts to carefully bob his head. You hiss as his tongue rolls over the ridges below the head, taking his hand away from the base so you can spit into it, and snickering as his cheeks turn red. Poor, shy little Omega struggling with lewd acts even when he’s lost in his heat. You know it’s at least somewhat because he’s ashamed of his own desires, and how much he enjoys indulging in them with you, though he’s been getting better at accepting his own sexuality. He begins to stroke what he can’t fit in his mouth, and you groan, running your fingertips over the bulge of his cheek. You’ve never felt anything similar, even when he puts his perfect little mouth on your cunt.

“You look pretty like this, baby.” You murmur, and Obi-Wan looks up at you with those beautiful blue eyes as he begins to bob his head a little faster. His hand works eagerly over the base of your dick while he tries to figure out how to work his tongue while sucking, his cheeks growing redder at the obscene sounds his slurping causes. It takes all of your self control to keep yourself restrained, but you let every moan and growl out without shame, feeling through the bond how even the smallest sounds encourage your Omega in the same way that praise does. You can’t help but laugh as he takes a little bit more than he can handle and gags, the feeling of which sends pleasure racing like lightning through your veins. He sits back, coughing, and you stroke his cheek as you admire the pretty pink of his spit-slicked lips.

“You did so good, baby. Come on, up, present for me, Omega. I gotta stretch you open a little so I don’t hurt you.” You coo, and he lets out a little moan as he lays down on his stomach with his knees up, back arched to keep his bottom in the air. Humming to yourself, you crawl up into your Omega’s nest, giving his bum a gentle slap that makes him whine, then grabbing both cheeks in your hands to give him a firm squeeze. You use your thumbs to part him, breathing in the scent of slick while bending to run your tongue over his twitching hole. The taste of his slick is electric on your tongue, and he moans loudly as you reach between his legs to wrap your hand around his cock while you lap at him. Stroking sloppily, you spit in your other hand, rubbing it into his desperate little hole to mix with the slick that starts to leak steadily.

“Looks like your body knows what it wants, baby. I just licked you clean, and slick is already dripping down your balls.” You tease, lapping up his slick before it can drip on the nest and laughing as Obi-Wan jolts with a whimper.

“Please, Alpha. Want it in me.” He begs, and you smile, running your thumb over the tight ring of muscle. You’d done your research before this, desperate not to hurt your Omega even though you knew logically that his body was made to take you. It had been shameful to watch dirty holovids, but as soon as you noticed how embarrassed Obi-Wan got, it became less nerve-wracking for you and more a point of entertainment. Your shy but curious Omega would blush and stammer if you watched them next to him in bed, but he always ended up watching with you, often sliding into you from behind so you could watch together while he took his pleasure from you. The naughty research helped you feel more comfortable with taking your Omega in this manner, and you felt prepared. A low whine brings you back to yourself, and you smile, pushing the pad of your thumb against his hole just to watch him shiver. Your index finger slides in surprisingly easily, and Obi-Wan moans lowly as you breach him, digging his hands into the bedding.

I want to lay on my back. Need to see you. Please, Alpha.

Of course, baby, if that’s what you need. I’ll give you anything you want, my sweet little Omega. Anything you ask for.

You help Obi-Wan roll over and smile down at his flushed face, licking your lips at the sight of him. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, and you still wonder sometimes how he could possibly be yours, staring up at you with half-lidded eyes full of love and lust. Your Omega spreads his legs and hikes up his knees so you have clear access to him, but you simply admire his perfect little body instead. His nipples are pink and puffy in his heat, and the left one is adorned with a bite mark around it. His chest hair is shiny with sweat, skin flushed pink with his racing passions, and his mating mark is purple from the kissing and biting you’ve been doing throughout his pre-heat. You stroke your hand over his tummy, tracing his treasure trail down to his pubic hair, pointedly ignoring the way his cock throbs for attention and oozes slick.

“Alpha, stop staring. It’s embarrassing.” Obi-Wan complains, and you grin down at him, ignoring his protests as you squeeze his pecs. Despite his soft whimpers for relief, you take the time to continue admiring him, stroking his sides, chest and stomach just to keep him from being too upset. His physical strength, evident in his musculature, has always drawn your eye. You could spend hours worshiping his body, kissing his biceps, leaving lovebites on his lats, and sinking your teeth into his quads. You love his little tummy, the meat on his pecs, and the softness over the muscles in his thighs. He doesn’t really show his age much at all, though he often claims otherwise, pinching at his sides and belly in the mirror like that isn’t one of your favourite parts of him.

A strong leg nudges against your side, and you snap out of your admiration, looking up into his pretty blues. He looks near tears, lips pink and swollen from kisses, panting with desire. You give him a faux pout, pushing his knees up so you could press your middle finger into him. It slides in easily, slick dripping out around your knuckles as you pull out, then push two fingers back in. Obi-Wan groans, throwing an arm over his face to hide as he rolls his hips down into you. You wave your hand and his arm flies away from his face, hands pinned above his head with the Force, though you release him immediately after despite the flush of pink to his cheeks and desire through the bond that says he definitely enjoyed that.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart? You’re nice and relaxed, making it so easy on me baby.” Your voice is low and syrupy, and you watch your Omega’s eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones as he rocks against you. Wrapping your free hand around his cock, you stroke him nice and slow, in pace with your fingers as you stretch him open.

“Feels nice.” Obi-Wan murmurs, though his entire body stiffens up when you crook your fingers and brush against his prostate. He gasps for breath, jerking beneath you, and you coo at him as you roll your fingers into his sweet spot, licking your lips hungrily. Your tail wraps around Obi-Wan’s thigh, yanking his legs open when he tries to close them, and you stroke him faster.

Good boy, baby, let me make you come. Wanna see you paint your cute little belly white. Give it to me, Omega. Then I’ll give you what you want, put my cock in you and breed you in your soft little nest. D’you want that? Want me to fuck a baby into you, Obi?

YES! Alpha, please, please, need you to breed me. Just your fingers feels so good, I can’t wait to feel your cock inside me.

“Naughty little Omega.” You tease, adding a third finger just to stretch him out a little bit more. Obi-Wan cries out as your fingertips rub hard over his prostate, and combined with the firm grip on his cock, he can’t take it any longer. He jerks beneath you, sticky white cum splattering across his stomach and nearly up his chest. By the time he’s done, his cum has begun to pool in the dip of his belly, and you lean down to lick it out, drawing a whimper from your Omega. Gentle as can be, you pull your fingers free of him, wiping your hands on the towel you’d thrown into the nest earlier expressly for this purpose. Blanketing him with your body, you lay a couple of kisses across his throat, ignoring the throbbing in your aching cock in order to give him a breather.

Too quickly, he begins pressing down into the weight of it, eyes half-lidded as he purrs for you. You smile down at him, pecking his lips, then reaching between you to guide the head of your cock to press against his hole, rubbing gently to coat it in slick. Your Omega may normally be a patient man, but his heat clearly makes him lose his head, as he begins to roll his hips eagerly, trying to push you into him. You pet his hip soothingly, but give him what he wants, pressing against the tight ring of muscle until it begins to give for you. You slide inside somewhat smoothly, his insides parting around you as you sink in slowly, inch by inch until you’re fully sheathed.

He’s searing hot around you, wet and tight enough that it’s almost painful, bordering on overstimulation. For a second, you worry you might come early, but you grit your teeth and anchor your hands into the nest on either side of his head, your thighs under his, pushing him up a little to get comfortable. Obi-Wan clings to you, shaky moans falling from his lips as you grind yourself into him, then slowly begin to pull your hips back. You watch as the ridges of your dick catch at his hole, and he whimpers with every single one, his dick twitching to life against his tummy. When only the tip remains inside of him, you press a kiss to your Omega’s mating mark, then plant your knees and thrust back into him sharply. You start with slow, long thrusts that have Obi-Wan whimpering and clinging to you, trembling at the way his insides cling to your cock.

You don’t feel any pain from him when you delve into his mind, just pure, mind-melting pleasure. He’s so soaked that you’d be shocked if it hurt, dripping so much slick it makes a squelching sound with every thrust. You don’t know if all Omegas get as wet as Obi-Wan, but you love being surrounded by the salty-sweet smell of his slick. Each time your pelvis meets his ass, you feel his whole body shudder, his calves hooking around behind you to keep you from pulling out completely. His head is tipped back, lips parted around moans of your name, and his force signature is the same bright blue of his lightsaber, nearly blinding in his pleasure. You nuzzle against his mating mark, speeding up your thrusts despite the spine-melting heat of him, holding on as much as you can even as you feel your knot start to swell.

“I’m not going to last much longer, Omega.” You murmur against his skin, and he nods, unable to voice more than a moan in response. He’s a vision of pleasure, chest heaving with every breath, skin flushed pink from the rushing blood, his muscles twitching as he works to meet your thrusts. You love him. You would do anything for him, anything he ever asked, because you trust he’d never ask anything of you that you couldn’t give him with a clear conscience and the approving warmth of the Force. He’s perfect, and he’s all yours, but you know he holds all of the power in your relationship. Such is the truth of an Omega - you are a slave to his pleasure and happiness.

Me neither, Alpha. If you touch my cock, I’ll explode.

You grin, and he whines, knowing exactly what’s about to happen. You slow your thrusts as your knot starts to catch on his rim, digging your nails into the blankets below your Omega to keep some semblance of control, and you seat yourself fully within him just in time to lock together. Your hand closes around Obi-Wan’s cock as you start to spill inside him, moaning as you sloppily jerk him off. It takes nearly nothing for him to come in your hand, his mind a flurry of how good it feels as your hot cum fills him, hoping that it would somehow take, and the pleasure of being locked with you until your knot deflates.

It takes a moment to roll Obi-Wan onto his side, carefully so that you don’t pull on him or your knot too much, until you can curl up against his back. You nuzzle into his neck, kissing his shoulders, and using the Force to dip your towel in the water set on the night table so that you can clean the both of you up. Your Omega dozes in your arms, and you feel proud to have fucked him well enough that you could put him to sleep on your knot. He needs it. His heat will have him raring to go again soon enough, so it’s best if he gets some rest while he can.

You find yourself kissing along the line of his deltoids, pausing as you feel the soft metal line of his birth control implant under your lips. You could bite it out. Soothe the pain with the Force, make a cut with one of your obscenely sharp canines, then heal it once you’ve got the useless little thing out. It only takes 24 hours to lose effect. You could breed him this heat, if you wanted to. You would even let him breed you, if he preferred, since you were of more use while stuck at the Jedi Temple than he was. You’d tear your own implant out too, let him sink his perfect cock into you and breed you in his comfortable nest that he made for you both. He’d said he wanted children, hadn’t he?

A shiver runs down your spine, and something whispers over the roar of your instincts, a gentle urging to be patient. Not now. Soon, but not yet. You lean into the embrace of the will of the Force, closing your eyes and holding Obi-Wan a little closer to you, your lips against his mating mark. You fall asleep nestled against him, completely at peace with your Omega safe in your arms, your Force signatures blending together in a gentle but loving dance.

[akookminsupporter]

No pero de donde viene the fucking entitlement of some fans like. How the fuck is anyone going around talking about this video proving x y or z when, if you really believe that is a video of jk, you should be talking about nothing but the gross and terrifying violation of privacy. No matter who is in that video that is a private moment in a private home filmed through a window using a long range camera (based on the video quality/movement). That is HORRIFYING. It is stalking in the very best case scenario. And people are going around demanding explanations or reactions from other fans, JK, JM, BH, or anyone else. Puta madre these are fucking people not your playthings — try acting like a human being for once.

THIS. ALL FUCKING THIS!

[lively-potter]

— trials of athena ; two

— genre ; enemies to lovers, kinda slow burn, friends to lovers

— warnings ; a hella lot of cursing, some typos ( of course 🙄😬 ), mature themes, smut, athena doesn’t like feelings, fluff, smut, angst, some violence, a teeny bit of blood and gore, JK’s a dick fr

— intro, teaser, part one

— find me on Wattpad ; LivelyPotter

— 2024 © LivelyPotter all rights reserved

— word count ; 1.5k

— taglist ; @ahgasegotarmy116 @jk97bam

— chapter two ; a continuum of bad choices

♡

May 21st, 2023 9 PM

"Huh, what made you decide to call after leaving me on fucking open for three hours, bitch?" Sawyer hollered through the phone, making me yelp.

"Ow, you cabbage head! You scared the hell out of me." I whined, pressing my hand to my ear – risking a glare out my window.

Sawyer snickered, "Well, I am naturally terrifying."

"—No, you're not." I retorted dryly, "You act like a kicked puppy most of the time."

My reply had Sawyer huffing and puffing on the other line.

"Fine, I'll let you have that one, cunt."

"Hoe."

"Proud of it!" He swung back, causing me to laugh. My best friend Sawyer never failed to make me laugh when I was pissed, sad, or depressed. "So, what brings you here?"

"A continuum of bad choices and a neighbor that I want to shank." I sighed, throwing myself down on my pillow when Sawyer tutted. "He's such an asshole," I grunted, still thoroughly bothered by the daft beaver nugget next door.

"Spill." Sawyer ordered brightly – he, like my mom (and me) loved to hear all the latest gossip. With a sigh, I told him every little detail of this morning, and I definitely didn't forget to add the part where the mothereffer was half naked.

"Soooo....lemme get this straight; this dude – although fine as fuck and looked like he was created specially in God's image – was rude and slammed the door in your face?"

"Yep," I giggled, sounds about right. "and I can't forget to add that the bastard's bedroom is across from mine." I spoke suddenly, remembering I saw that bitch next door making his bed up. Gosh, I needed to stop spying out my window...until he got curtains, of course.

"At least you have the privacy film on your windows at home." Sawyer chuckled, "maybe you'll get lucky and see his dick next time."

My face flushed heavily, "Ew! Ohmygod! Sawyer, you nasty little bitch." I squealed out a loud giggle, wishing more than anything he was back in the states.

Sawyer left a month ago with Raven (one of his dads) to Russia for father/son bonding. I missed him desperately – but apparently, he'll be back home soon.

Sawyer sighed lowly, "Dude, I wish I was back home so I can get a look at this handsome bastard. Do you think he's gay?" he asked wistfully.

My eyes widened, "I don't know! I don't make assumptions like that; plus, why would you want to date that ass?" I asked, kicking my shoes off my feet, and sitting up.

"From what you told me about him, he'd be a good fuck." He laughed; I imagined my crazy bestie shrugging his shoulders.

"How do you know what a good fuck is, bitch? You're a virgin... but he definitely would be – he's got a lot of piercings; you think he's got his you-know-what pierced?" I asked, biting down on my lip as wild thoughts raced through my brain. I don't know why I was telling him this, but Sawyer was my other half, I could talk to him about anything.

"C'mon babe, don't be a prude." Sawyer mocked, "It's called a cock."

"Shut the hell up," I choked out through my embarrassment. A noise down below distracted me from Sawyer's howling laughter. My lips parted when I crawled across my bed, knees digging into my pillows to peer out the window.

And there he was.

I watched my insanely attractive neighbor dressed in jeans, big black combat boots and a black oversized hoodie lock his door and jog to his sleek black Mercedes.

Sawyer's voice grew muffled in my ears as my neighbor turned and looked up. A squeak left my lips when his eyes looked in the direction of my window.

"Shit." I scrambled away from the window before stopping shot. "Wait a fuckin' minute..." I mumbled, crawling back towards my window, "He can't see me." I murmured, now remembering I had a privacy film over my window.

Quite a handy thing to have, they can't see in, but you can see through it.

I'm kinda nosey (not in a bad way, I hope).

"Hold on just a wee bit, Sawyer." I called, "the dickwad next door just left." I said, seeing him jump in his car and drive off.

I backed away from my window and picked my phone up.

"Sorry 'bout that, what were you saying?" I asked, resuming my conversation with Sawyer.

"I wonder where he's headed off to so late." Sawyer mused causing me to roll my eyes playfully.

"Don't know, don't care."

(I was lying to myself)

*** May 22nd, 2023

3:15 AM

The loud thumping of a door closing from next door roused me from my sleep.

Cursing myself for being such a light sleeper, I rolled over and threw my weighted blanket back over my head and closed my eyes once more; hoping sleep would claim me once more.

Minutes passed; I was snoozing once more.

...until drunken giggle (more like a shriek) startled me once more.

Ugh, shut up and lemme sleep...

My thoughts became jumbled as I breathed deeply, on the precipice of falling into a deeper slumber.

The stumbling of drunken feet grew louder and louder, as if they were nearing me, until a door flew open and banged against the wall in the house next to mine. My eyes flew open and darkened in anger once I realized the annoying noises and fuckin' giggling next door wouldn't be stopping anytime soon.

"Sweet daughter of Zeus." I mumbled, flinging off my warm blanket off my body and stumbling to my feet. My brain was half awake and half alert when I nearly tripped over my phone charger.

"Owwww!"

"Shit. Fuck. Damn it," I hissed, doubling over in absolute agony as my pinky toe caught the edge of my bedframe. I fell down on my ass – momentarily forgetting the shuffling next door – to cradle my throbbing toe.

"Stupid fucking neighbors." I huffed, carefully getting to my feet, wincing once I applied pressure to my foot. I paced for a second until the pain wore off and wiped the sleep out of my eyes.

A tired groan left my lips as I pressed a knee on my bed, leaned over my bedframe and peered out my bedroom window, into the one across from mine.

One glance was all it took for every ounce of exhaustion to leave my body. All that was left was shocked, mortification, and disgust (with a slight sprinkle of envy, but I'd die before I would ever admit it).

I was unable to tear my eyes away as I witnessed a gorgeous woman with long blonde hair and tan legs that seemed to go on for miles fall down onto her knees in front of my neighbor.

Wut. The. Fucking. Hell.

A embarrassed squeak left my lips and I threw a hand over my innocent eyes to shield myself from this display.

Ohmygod.

I had never seen anything like this in my life.

Slowly, I peeked through my parted fingers and choked.

And nearly die as I watched my hotter than the sun neighbor ruffle his hands through his dark hair and peer down at his lady of the night. I watched, transfixed on his face as his mouth parted and he started speaking, I watched his lips open and move as he pronounced each syllable.

Gods, I wanted to know what he was saying.

But I kinda got the gist of what he had said when the lady immediately went into action and started unzipping his tight pants that clung to his rock-solid thighs. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't look away.

My dickwad neighbor peered down at her with a dirty little smirk, as he was enjoying the way she was entirely at his mercy. I gulped when he bit down on his lip – the silver hoops threaded through his lips made the action even more attractive.

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME????

LOOK AWAY YOU STUPID BITCH.

THIS IS A VIOLATION OF PRIVACY.

But why! Just why was my dickwad neighbor getting a BJ in front of his fucking window? A window without curtains concealing his gorgeous body from view. A squeak left my lips once his pants were to his knees...along with his boxers.

And then his you-know-what was out in the open...for all eyes to see.

I almost choked to death on my spit as I saw the fucking beast he had concealed underneath his clothes.

It was fucking huge. The biggest I've ever seen.

I pitied the poor girl next door.

He'd tear her in two.

A glint of silver caught my eye and I had enough.

I flew away in an instant and tripped over myself to get to my bed.

I threw the blanket over my head and grabbed at my phone. Once it was in my hands, I cringed at the brightness and immediately turned it down.

With trembling fingers, I tapped on Sawyer's contact and waited for the bitch to answer.

"Yo."

"I was right! I was fucking right, Sawyer!"

"Ohhhh..." he hummed before stopping, "Wait. What were you right about again?" he asked, causing me to roll my eyes.

"That dick pickle neighbor of mine has got his dick pierced." 

author’s note ; ✨

hi, everyone! Ihope you all had a great day! thanks for reading.