#and generally somewhat overwhelming day at work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whoreforsexymen · 4 months ago

Text

The VIP Booth | Vander Smut Oneshot 🫗🤎

(Gif creds: me <3)

Pairings: Husband!Vander x Wife!Reader

Pronouns: Fem!Pronouns

Rating: NSFW, 18+, MDNI !! You WILL be blocked! 🤺

Word Count: 3.1k (whoops. got carried away with storybuilding)

Tags: Cunnilingus, Fingering, Face Fucking, Finger Sucking, Hair Pulling, Semi-Public Sexual Acts, Established Relationship, etc.

Summary: You coax your husband into eating you out in the only private area The Last Drop has to offer.

Notes: AAAA!! Idk if this idea is ANY GOOD but it came to me in a moment of delusion. The last bit was probably a little rushed, too. SORRYYYY. I’ll make it up to yall later.

Also, tell me I’m wrong when I say that Vander will go to any length to eat some pussy. Do it, cowards. I dare you. YOU KNOW JUST AS WELL AS I DO THAT THIS MAN WOULD HAPPILY DIE WITH HIS FACE IN BETWEEN A PAIR OF THIGHS.

Asks/Request fics are coming soon, as well as a few more special treats for y’all!! Enjoy, my lovelies, & stay tuned. 🤍

(I can see you, minors!! Get outta here 🤺🤺. BACK! BACK, I SAY!)

Inside the walls of The Last Drop, there was one booth unlike any other—a private, exclusive spot tucked away behind the bustling central room. It was a booth reserved for those willing to pay for top-tier service, offering a secluded escape from the usual chaos of the bar’s environment. But as co-owner of The Last Drop—and wife to the main owner—you didn’t need to fork out any cash to reserve it. Especially not on a night like this. No—tonight, luck was on your side. The booth had gone unclaimed by any paying customer.

Truthfully, the undeniably significant feature were its curtains. The enormous maroon tapestries that enveloped the entrance ensured complete privacy, shielding it from prying eyes. After all, that’s what made it the VIP booth—an oasis of solitude amidst the drunken chaos of the crowd.

With the booth left unreserved, its privacy ensuring a rare moment of seclusion, and the crowd blissfully distracted by their own drunken revelry, the opportunity was simply too perfect to pass up. You had concocted a devilish plan—one that had been simmering in your mind all night. It wasn’t just about messing with your husband—it was about messing around with him.

Your overwhelming desire for your husband was impossible to ignore on any given day, but tonight, it seemed even more intense—an insatiable hunger that gnawed at you, its cause elusive and beyond your comprehension. Whatever the reason, it gripped you with a force you couldn't obstruct, leaving you restless and consumed by pure unadulterated lust.

This, naturally, allowed your plan to unfold effortlessly, as if guided by an invisible hand, bringing it closer to fruition.

To carry out your devious plan, you had carefully cultivated the trust of one of the few individuals who worked for you and Vander. They weren’t exactly employees in the traditional sense, but rather a handful of people you kept on the fringes, offering a few coins in exchange for their occasional assistance. Their loyalty was fleeting, bought with small tokens, but it was enough to serve your purpose. Especially in a moment such as this. A seemingly crucial one—at that.

You kept things vague, framing your request as though it were purely concerning a business discussion needing to be had. You asked your employee to discreetly inform your husband that someone was calling him from behind the velvet curtains of the VIP booth. You also made it clear that the employee should mirror your discretion, avoiding any mention of your name or your connection to him.

The employee appeared curious, even somewhat uneasy, at first. That was, however, prior to you slipping a generous cash bonus their way, eliciting their cooperation without room for protest.

"Go on, please," you plead with your unsuspecting employee, your voice laced with a blend of urgency and excitement. "But remember—don’t tell him it’s me."

As the employee slips into the bustling crowd, you struggle to contain the surge of excitement building within you, all while fighting to maintain a sultry—yet composed, demeanor. You adjust your hair, breasts, and clothing, making subtle moves to enhance your allure and mystery. Every gesture is deliberate, designed to keep you as collected and captivating as possible, cultivating an air of intrigue about you as you desperately await the arrival of your beloved husband.

They fulfilled your agreement as you waited—approaching their boss and informing him that someone had entered the VIP booth, insisting on speaking with him directly.

"VIP booth? Thought nobody booked it tonight," Vander remarks, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest as he takes a moment to process the information. Normally, you were the one who handled the VIP booth, and he’d have gladly passed this task off to you—if the employee hadn’t mentioned that the VIP “customer” specifically requested Vander. Looks like he’d have to put on a more hospitable facade and give them what they wanted.

If only he knew just what this "customer" truly wanted from him.

After a series of grunts, groans, and huffs, Vander finally made his way to the booth. After forcing a welcoming smile onto his face, he slowly pushed aside the curtains.

"Sorry for the wait. You wanted to speak to the owner—"

His voice faltered, trailing off faster than it had taken him to summon the words.

You feel your own response threaten to catch in your throat, but you won’t cave. You abandon your nerves.

"Why yes, I did. Although..." you drawl, your tone laced with playful mischief, "...'speak' isn’t exactly at the top of the list of things I want to do to the owner."

Your sultry gaze locks onto his, deliciously teasing. Vander, already an imposing figure, looms even larger from your vantage point in the booth. Seated as you are, you find yourself craning your neck significantly just to meet his eyes, the angle only amplifying his commanding presence.

A slew of unidentifiable emotions cross his face in a mere flash before fading into a singularly—equally mischievous to yours—-expression.

“Well. Seein’ as how you are the VIP patron of the night, how can I oblige you?” He queries, his eyebrow raising once more.

Your heart stutters beneath your breast as his expression shifts, his eyes darkening with a lust-filled intensity that sends a shiver through you. The chemistry between you two never failing to baffle you.

"...Serve me," you murmur, your voice soft yet determined to keep the air thick with seduction.

"And what, if I may be so bold to ask, can I serve you with?" he inquires, his voice dipping low, the provocative edge in his gaze unwavering.

"Your body." you quip, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves stirring in your gut, desperate to make it quiver.

Vander eyes you carefully for a moment, savoring the way your confidence wavers. He deliberately toys with the knowledge of how easily he can unsettle you, his gaze lingering as if relishing every flicker of hesitation you try to hide. A smirk slowly spreads across his mouth—the very one you ached for—his eyes glinting with an all-knowing, deviously sexy twinge. He nods softly, his hand rising to casually caress his beard as he watches you, the tension thick in the air.

“Mmhmm. I see," he murmurs, his tone laced with teasing amusement. "Who am I, if not a man willing to care for his loyal customers?" He phrases simply, the words carrying a heavy, unspoken promise before he moves, gracefully lowering himself to his knees across from you. There’s a moment of silence, the air thick with anticipation, before he slowly begins to push himself beneath the table that had kept you both apart.

You don’t dare look beneath the table, almost afraid to meet his gaze at this moment, unsure of what you might see on his face now that the situation has shifted. The tension coils tighter, each passing second amplifying the anticipation that overwhelmed your senses.

You practically jump at the brush of his shoulders against your shins as he crawls to them, the rush of anticipation making every nerve in your body jolt. The aching desperation pulling through you draws attention to your core as you feel his strong hands gently caress your legs, the heat of his touch settling on your knees, sending a shiver through you. The way your teeth begin to tug at your bottom lip seemed like the only way you could physically process your eagerness.

Vander remains silent, his hands moving deliberately in opposite directions, the gesture designed to spread your legs—yet he did so with enough force to split you down the middle if he hadn’t been careful enough. It isn’t until he successfully parts them that he speaks again.

“No bottoms? My. What a dirty girl you are, my dear customer. What if someone else had walked in here, hmm? Did you plan on flashing your bits to any bloke who popped his head in?” He teases, practically groaning some of his words, the guttural tone an unintentional yet instinctual reaction to the sight of you so bare—-so clearly prepared for whatever scenario it was you anticipated happening in this little corner of the establishment.

It was obvious to your husband, from the way you were reacting, that the possibility of him crawling under the table to bury his face between your thighs hadn’t even crossed your mind. The surprise and hesitation in your twitches and subtle movements told him everything he needed to know.

The distant, familiar chatter of real customers beyond the thin barrier tightened the knot in your stomach, throwing you into the reality of the moment. It became an unrelenting presence, grounding you in the tension that hung in the air. Meanwhile, the hot, damp breath of your husband seethed against the cold slickness seeping from your cunt, a stark contrast that deepened the unease coursing through you.

A shiver ran up your spine, your body trembling as nervous spasms raked through your bones when he edged even closer—his hair grazing your skin in that familiar way you knew so well. It wasn’t uncommon for your husband to spend most of his time down here, yet no matter how often it happened, the anxiety it stirred within you never waned.

You had an even harder time controlling how your body writhed as you felt the warmth of his tongue flush itself against your sopping heat. Your nails pressed into the soft wood of the table, digging in as you braced yourself, your body jerking. The spasms faltered for a moment, your body going rigid once he started violently lapping his tongue against your aching clit. The abrasing way his beard rubbed against the skin of your thighs sent you into a spiral.

You had expected him to fuck you directly on the table, to take you in the way you were used to—but instead, he toyed with you from beneath it, the unanticipated choice leaving you bewildered. You had been aching for what felt like ages, the desperation almost unbearable. It was a struggle to keep your mouth from parting—your head tilting back, eyes closing as your husband began to ease the tension that had gripped you for so long.

All you wanted was to whimper, to cry out for him, but you couldn’t—not with the patrons so close, just beyond the curtains. If he had only fucked you as you’d expected, he would’ve easily pressed a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet, as he had in similar situations before. But this time, you knew he had chosen this path deliberately, testing whether you could hold your composure.

It was his unspoken way of making you atone for the ploy you used to get him here. He was a patient lover, understanding that even though you had pulled him away from his work—which he didn’t mind as much as he let on—you were just too eager to be patient. Always attuned to your needs, he was more than willing to satisfy the cravings of his most cherished wife, finding joy in fulfilling your desires—no matter the time or place. The absence of his familiar presence behind the bar, and the slight potential for upsetting customers, felt like a small price to pay in exchange for the chance to fully indulge in you. To unravel and claim you in ways only he could.

His tongue was relentless. He sloppily sucked and licked at your needy clit, his nose rubbing against the mound of flesh above as he devoured you. His hands were as equally hungry as his mouth, and in need of something to grab. He manhandles your legs, draping them roughly over his shoulders, his fingers gripping at your plush thighs as he curls his arms around them. In doing so, he pulled you closer, your back slipping against the booth as he guided you down, drawing you nearer to him with a purposeful force. His cock was begging to be set free from its cloth prison as he sunk his tongue deep into the void of your cunt. The rhythmic, wet sounds became a melody more captivating than any song he'd ever heard, especially when paired with the soft mewls of you struggling to stay collected—and most importantly—silent.

You can both hear and feel his laugh against you, a deep, low chuckle that carries a mix of arousal and amusement, vibrating through you with every huff. He found the way he could make you squirm incredibly sexy, the reaction sparking a deep sense of pride within him. There was something about the ease with which he could unsettle you that thrilled him, and he took great satisfaction in knowing how little effort it took. He knew all too well that it only took something as simple as a certain look to have you coming undone—and right now, he was determined to make you come undone. All over his tongue.

Vander knows just how wild his fingers can make you on their own— yet especially so when paired with the mastery of his expertly quick and thoughtful tongue.

He wasted no time in combining the two, intent on making you crack under the pressure. While Vander didn’t particularly want to be caught by patrons, either—or, for that matter, by one of your employees—his desire to make you scream was always his top priority.

He grips your thighs with more gusto than before, continuing to pull them further apart in hopes of expanding his ‘workspace’. He releases one of them, the fingers of that hand moving to replace the tongue that was working its familiar magic inside you. He doesn’t give you so much as a single moment to collect your thoughts as he makes the exchange, effortlessly ramming and curling two up into your cunt as his tongue continues its prior attack on your clit.

You swore you were seeing stars behind your eyelids, your grip on the table faltering just like your efforts to stay in control. You couldn't even attempt to cover your mouth, not with the relentless—yet unintentional—way your hands found their way under the table, tangling in his hair and gripping with enough force to pull some strands loose.

You greedily buck your hips down to meet the thrusting of his digits, pulling his head as far into your cunt as possible. He doesn’t complain. He never would. Maybe it was his own type of preferred masochism, but he’d consider suffocating and perishing in between your legs in this way, a noble death.

Your toes ache from the force with which you’re curling them, your legs clutching and winding around his shoulders and neck like a python.

By now, you had abandoned all caution, hope, and effort to moan quietly. You were practically screaming over the deliciously knowing way he prodded his thick fingers into your cunt. He had long forgotten to move them in and out. He knew exactly what spot drove you mad, and he made his most conscious effort to curl them into it as rapidly and frequently as possible.

As much as Vander adored your cries, they were truly becoming far too loud. He really didn’t want any curious folks to come wandering in to spoil the moment when you were so close to your inevitable peak. He has no choice but to silence you. With the hand that remained on your other thigh, he removed it from its resting place, reaching up from beneath the table as he gazes up at you. With a smirk against your cunt, and his eyes studying how your head was still thrown back against the booth, eyes shut tighter than a steel trap—-he shoves two of his free fingers into your mouth. Your eyes shoot open. You look down at him, earning a wink from your husband as he smirks harder against your cunt. The eye contact was filthy, in the most erotic way possible. It always made you feel slightly awkward, in an oddly arousing way, when you made such a type of contact with him in the heat of a moment like this.

You willingly sucked on his fingers, now understanding the purpose for his actions after a thoughtful moment. He groans against your cunt, luckily the sound being muffled by how much his mouth was buried into it. Your tongue swirls itself rapaciously around the digits, drool falling from your mouth as you did so. Vander simply can’t tear his eyes away from such a sight. He groans more as you lower your own gaze, your expression deadly with seduction. He was almost pissy that both of his hands were occupied at the moment. He was anxious to palm at his cock, desperate to find friction of his own now.

His tongue and lips were still working their relentless job on your clit, suckling every few seconds amidst the slurping. The way his facial hair brushes against it every now and then almost sends you into hysterics—bordering on a full blown frenzy.

Your legs are quaking, twitching and spasming with every harsh lick to your clit. It was so sensitive, you couldn’t help how it shocked your nerves, causing them all to fire simultaneously. Electricity burned in your veins, desperate to chase your orgasm as it made your hips flick against his mouth faster than he could lap at you.

Your orgasm burrowed itself into the pit of your stomach, commanding you to follow it down to your cunt.

It didn’t take much longer for you to keel over the edge of your impending climax. It burst through you, your legs clamping shut around his face—a move which Vander was used to by now—-hips mindlessly gyrating against his face as you brutally cum around his fingers. Vander can feel your walls clenching and relaxing back to back with each additional thrust he gave, your voice begging to slip past his fingers as you come undone. He thought you had been dripping wet at the start of this—but he had been sorely mistaken. Your arousal was seeping out of you despite his fingers plugging you up.

“Attagirl..” He whispers against you, giving your clit a few final licks before reluctantly pulling away. The grip on his hair finally loosened as your body went almost completely limp. Your breathing came in rapid, shallow gasps, just as desperate as Vander, himself, now was. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was being choked by his trousers. But he had the patience of a saint. He could wait as long as needed for you to collect yourself once again.

“So, was the service to your liking?” he asks, his tone teasing—and entirely rhetorical—as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The fingers that had been in your mouth slide free as he takes a moment to compose himself.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, clearly amused by how speechless you’ve become.

“Just don’t forget to tip your server..” He teases, alluding to the painfully obvious fact, that this situation is far from over.

#arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane #vander x reader #arcane imagine #arcane x reader smut #vander arcane #vander x reader arcane #vander x reader smut #Vander smut #Vander smut imagine #Vander x reader imagine smut #Vander smut Drabble #Vander x reader smut oneshot

1K notes · View notes

reidrum · 8 months ago

Text

porcelain doll | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

a/n: writers block is a bitch fr but somehow this came out! i just wanna say that if you relate to reader or just have qualms in general about intercourse that its okay and its normal and you're still a wonderful human being at the end of the day ok that is all i love you mwah

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, fingering, making out, no p in v sex but talks about it, reader has an ambiguous reason for it hurting cuz there are like so many gdm reasons it can hurt it's ridiculous, hurt/comfort, fluff, afab reader, spencer is a loving and supportive boyfriend, i proofread this once sorry

summary: you'd been keeping quiet about something personal that you knew you should tell spencer but just couldn't find the right time for, but now it's all come to a head in a hot heat of the moment and you're forced to confront it

wc: 2.6k

_______________________________________________

you meant to tell spencer about it when you first started dating.

it’s not something that comes up to discuss in a natural context, like over coffee or at work. by the time you and spencer had actually started dating, you hoped there would be a quiet moment where you could tell him, but even when soft moments came and went your anxiety was the ruling emotion and prevented you from telling him.

that brings you to this moment right now— you straddled over spencer’s lap on his couch with your arms around his neck, his on your waist, wildly kissing him. you had just come home from the bar with the girls, and spencer couldn’t help himself with how pretty you looked as he pulled you to the couch and perched you on his lap.

still being in the somewhat early stages of your relationship, your intimacy with him never went past making out, with you most of the time tapping out after getting too overwhelmed. and spencer always respected your boundaries.

don’t get it wrong, you both still had a lot of fun when things got heated. if you could kiss him every second of the day you would. but being able to feel how much fun he was having always left a pang of guilt in your heart after always stopping. he’d always be heavily panting, trying so hard to hide the discomfort in his pants, and the most you could do in return was dissociate and live in false ignorance about it. it didn’t help that he still so devastatingly kind to you after.

but here you were on his couch tonight, and something felt different. a desire you hadn’t felt before taking over your senses as your bodies intertwined. it’s like every time you’re with him, he makes you almost forget all the insecurities that eat away at you.

almost.

spencer moves his mouth down your neck, leaving a trail of hot love bites before he finds your sweet spot. you angle your head more so he can get better access, and moan out at how fucking good it feels.

he moves his hand to the waist of your shorts, looks up at you silently asking for permission to remove them. you nod and he maneuvers them off, returning to straddle him. his hands move to knead the flesh where your hips meet your thighs, every movement delicate and intentional. it’s like with every touch he transfers his love for you through his fingertips to drive you absolutely crazy.

you subconsciously grind down on him, putting a pressure he wasn’t expecting as he groans lowly in your ear, “fu-uck.” it warms your heart a little, knowing the effect you have on him. your hands tangle in hair and pull firmly letting spencer moan into your mouth as he moves a hand further down your body.

“this okay still?” he breathlessly asks as he toys with the lining of your panties.

you nod again, not trusting your words at the moment. a sinking feeling starts to brew in your gut, as you can easily predict where the next events are going. he’s being so kind to you, and you feel sexy with the way he’s eating you alive with his eyes and touches. the guilt would chip you away if you had led him on this long only to stop right before the good part, just because you couldn’t handle it or something.

but he starts to stroke you outside your panties, and you have to admit that it feels vaguely good. you continue to bury your head in the crook of his neck in the hopes of masquerading any facial expressions contradictory to your words. you just want spencer to feel good, and this is the first step to reaching that goal.

spencer takes the soft breaths blowing in his ear as a sign to keep going, and hooks a finger on the cloth to pull it aside. he runs a single digit up and down your slit, swiping by your entrance to gather the wetness to spread around. when he circles back to give your clit attention you shakily moan out his name and his arm grips you tighter around your waist. you feel his finger descend again and prods around for the entrance again before gently sliding in.

the last five minutes you had been praying repeatedly and silently in your head, please let it be different this time, please don’t let me ruin this perfectly great relationship, please let my body just do what it’s meant to do.

but your prayers are left unheard, and all you can feel is hot, burning pain.

it tears through you, a feeling incomparable to walking on fire rocks even. it’s overwhelming, all consuming, things you would typically describe a normal sexual experience but here your body was, in a cruel twist of fate by being on the complete opposite end of that spectrum.

most of all, it just fucking hurts. point blank, you don’t see it subsiding anytime soon. you hoped the sentiment of making this good for spencer would overtake the signals being sent to your pain receptors. but it doesn’t, it actually intensifies the emotional pain in your heart that you know will weigh on you once this is over.

spencer being the darling lover he is holding you so gently, and yet instead your body betrays his gentle loving touches and receives them with malice.

how dare you?

after a couple minutes, you can’t take it anymore. the panic starts to rise in your chest— from the pain, the guilt, all crashing down like an avalanche preparing to leave you stranded in the rubble.

“spencer…” you grit out.

“yeah baby?” he hums.

“can we-, i think i need to…” you strain. the pain is spreading throughout your body like a forest fire, uncontainable and devastating.

spencer slows his ministrations and pulls back a little, noticing the faint red rings forming in your eyes from the unshed tears, “hey, what’s wrong?” he pulls out his finger complete, subtly wiping it on his pants (which you’ll gawk at later because, who is this man?). even after the removal it’s left you scorned, and you feel it breaking your resolve fast.

“are you okay?” spencer tries to peer into your eyes again, voice laced with worry and dread.

you open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. you’re in shock, you think. and you’re feeling a lot of emotions, too many emotions all huddled up in your head begging for control.

spencer sits still below you deeply concerned and confused, “sweetheart, what’s going on?” he desperately tries one more time.

you think your brain has finally settled on what to feel.

mortification.

you squeeze your eyes shut, harshly rubbing them with sweaty hands, “i’m okay, i’ll be right back.” and you don’t give him time to rebuttal as you swing off him and bolt to the bathroom in record speed. after you shut the door and lock it, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. and then everything else falls out too.

your arms clutch your stomach in distress as the panic settles in you, sliding down the wall as you sit on the floor with your knees tucked under your chin. tears blur your vision, and the deep breaths are counterintuitive as they seem to make you more and more lightheaded.

a faint knocking seems to cast a line to bring you back down, and another firmer knock solidifying it.

spencer softly says your name, “can we talk? i just want to know that you’re okay.”

a pang of guilty shoots up your heart and you let out a big sniffle inadvertently, and spencer finds an unknowingly matching pang shooting up his own heart.

“i’m sorry if i hurt you, sweetheart.”

that was the final blow, and you fully begin to sob on the bathroom floor. how selfish of a person were you to let him feel guilty for something that was entirely your fault?

“you didn’t do anything,” you say between cries, “i’m just, being weird.”

spencer isn’t convinced, “will you let me in?” he says softly.

you contemplate the outcomes. he comes in, you tell him about your irregularity, he gets upset with you for not telling him and because you don’t work. or you don’t let him in, he gets upset with you and your stubbornness, deciding it’s no longer worth it to deal with you and he leaves.

solid choices, you think.

swiping at the tears falling still, you think you can’t feel any lower than you do right now. so you reach up and unlock the door but don’t move to open it.

he hears the click of the lock turning and knows he has to open the door. the handle turns and spencer pokes his head through, “i’m coming in, okay?”

you don’t respond, your head still finding solace in your bunched up knees. you faintly hear the door creak open and a figure move in.

if spencer’s heart wasn’t clenching before, someone’s now got it in a death grip with how distraught you look is making him feel. he doesn’t enter your bubble, he doesn’t feel it’s appropriate at the moment. instead he sits in the open doorway, hoping it offers you a comfortable space to know that he’s there but not enough to overwhelm you.

you both sit in silence for what feels like forever, spencer knows it’s ten minutes and thirty two seconds, when you let out the smallest and faintest, “i’m sorry.”

“you didn’t do anything,” he immediately says, itching to move closer to you, “i just want to know what happened, angel.”

your eyes scrunch up in frustration, “ugh, it’s not-“ you falter, this was not how you pictured this conversation going.

he waits for you to continue. “i have this…thing.” you start.

“thing..?”

why does it feel so embarrassing to say out loud, he has three phds and hunts serial killers this cannot be the worst thing he’s heard.

it’s definitely the most vulnerable though.

you turn your body 180 degrees so you’re not facing him, thinking it would be easier to confess to him if he’s not staring you down, “when i like, put things down there… it hurts.”

“what kind of hurt?”

“it’s like a…really intense pain. that doesn’t go away.”

spencer ponders for a couple seconds, “is that what happened a couple minutes ago?”

you nod your head into your knees, letting the fresh hot tears wet your kneecaps. it’s humiliating.

he inches closer, “angel, did you think i was going to be mad?”

you sniffle, “are you not?”

a tentative hand rests on your back, “not at all,” he whispers, “i was just really worried about you.”

worried. people have been angry, apathetic, even sad (for themselves) when you told them. but never worried.

you suppose spencer reid has always been different, defying any preconceptions anyone previous had imposed on you. he always offered you kindness and love when you couldn’t find any for yourself. it was unfair, how much he loved you, and how you couldn’t show him how much you loved him back.

you clear your throat, “it just makes me feel…broken? to not be able to do the one thing my body is made to do. in the past it’s been a dealbreaker for a lot of people, and understandably so.”

spencer has moved to sit in front of you, inches away. he reaches a hand up to push a tendril of hair behind your ear, letting his palm rest upon your jaw. his eyes hold nothing but love, and he waits patiently for you to continue.

“i’m really sorry i didn’t say anything, i meant to tell you when we first started dating,” your voice gets higher as the emotion floods your throat, “but everything was going so good, i didn’t want to ruin it.”

you add one final blow before receding, “i thought when i told you, i would offer you an out to go sleep with some other girl just so you could have that experience.” you lament.

spencer lets your words sit in the air for a few moments before softly saying, “can i hold you?”

he thinks it’s better to have you in his arms before he talks, because as much as his words could comfort you he thinks it can’t hurt for you to feel physically held together after all that’s torn you down.

if he wasn’t watching you so intently he would’ve missed the faint nod you give him. you’re scooped into his embrace with your head tucked under his chin and into his neck. he has one hand supporting your back and the other drawing letters into your thighs, and leans his chin to rest atop your head.

“first of all, please don’t ever feel like you have to ‘offer me an out’, especially for things that are really serious like this.”

“but it’s not fai-“ you try to argue.

“no. you can’t do that. you won’t do that. i don’t care what you’ve been told in the past, but loving and having you means holding every part of you, especially the ones you try to hide. i am not here to pick and choose what i want.”

he holds you the way you would a porcelain doll, achingly beautiful yet terrifyingly fragile.

“my sweet girl, you are not broken. i promise. penetration is not the end all for sex, and it’s not the only way to have sex. studies show that 75% of women feel pain during penetration, sometimes it can be related to stress or anxiety, which i’m sure on top of all that you deal with, that me leaving for cases all the time can’t help.”

he cups your cheek with his warm palm and angles your face to meet his eyes.

“what matters to me the most is that you feel good, and if you don’t feel good then it’s not worth doing in the first place.” he whispers, “if this is something you want to work on in the future, i will be there to help and support you however i can. but if you don’t want to do anything, i will still be there to support you. always. there is no dealbreaker for me, you are it.”

with red stained eyes you look up at him, “are you sure?”

“i’m sure,” he reinforces, “i love you. i don’t think a version of me exists where i am not loving you. you occupy an embarrassingly large amount of my brain, and there’s a lot of stuff in there.” you giggle and spencer feels flowers blooming in his chest.

you sigh and wrap your arms tighter around him, “i love you too, spence.”

you both sit in silence, basking in each others presence.

“you looked so beautiful tonight, i don’t think i told you when you came home.” he softly speaks, stroking your hair.

fiddling with a button on his shirt you reply, “thank you, honey. penny told me to buy that dress, said it’d drive you insane.”

he breathes out, “she was right. i don’t even know if i said anything to you, i was borderline delirious seeing you come home to me.”

you lean up to place a smiley kiss on his neck, “i’ll always come home to you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“i think i’ll be having you forever.”

“woah,” you smirk, “that sounds borderline stalkerish. better be careful, my boyfriend’s an fbi agent.”

spencer’s eyes narrow, “i could probably take him.”

“eh.”

“eh?”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fandom

1K notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 2 months ago

Text

Comfort Headcanons for Frank, Matt, and Mikey

A/n: so I am ridiculously overwhelmed by personal and political stuff right now. And I told myself I was going to write every day this week if possible, but my brain was being difficult today. So instead of working on a longer fic I wrote some self-indulgent headcanons about Frank, Matt, and Mikey caring for an overwhelmed partner. I hope you all enjoy. Please feel free to send me other headcanon requests!

How would they’d react to you being overwhelmed

Frank

Frank would pick up on this IMMEDIATELY

the second your self care habits change, he’s onto you. You stay up later than normal two nights in a row, or run out the door with a granola bar instead of eating a real breakfast, and he is concerned™️

He’s willing to entertain it for three days max. He knows life gets tough sometimes, and he doesn’t want to encroach on your process—but we all know that once this man is worried, he’s minutes away from taking control. He has issues but we love him for it.

On the 4th day, when you’re waking up exhausted after far too little sleep and rejecting his offer to take you out for breakfast, he puts his foot down.

“Gonna order in for dinner tonight, ok? We can watch that movie you wanted to see and turn in early.”

You hastily agree, bolting out the door before you end up late to your job.

When you finally arrive home, he’s all over you in an instant. Murmuring his hellos while helping you out of your coat and shoes, ushering you over the couch.

He’s insisting that you sit in his lap while the two of you pick out dinner, offering suggestions for restaurants instead of leaving the choice open-ended. Given how tired and generally stressed you seem, he wants to take as much weight off your shoulders as possible.

Once dinner has been ordered, he tucks you close to his chest, practically burying you in a jumble of muscular limbs, humming appreciatively when you nuzzle further into his space. His hand is cupped around your nape, thumb gently brushing over your spine as you hunch toward him.

“Ready to talk about what’s botherin’ ya, doll?” The question leaves room to decline, but his stern tone suggests you choose to answer.

He listens carefully as you tell him what’s on your mind, brushing silent kisses against your forehead whenever your breath wavers around a stifled sob. His hands never move from your skin, cradling you to him like he’s trying to absorb your pain.

He wouldn’t let you lift a finger the rest of the night. Retrieving the take out, dishing it up for you, drawing you a bath, tucking you into bed

When you’re beginning to drift off atop his giant shoulder, he’d rest his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s tough right now. But we’ll get through. I promise.”

“Please don’t leave, Frank.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, babydoll.”

Matt

Matt isn’t as observant of your habits and routines, but he can sure as hell pick up changes in body language.

Gritting teeth, blinking back tears, frustrated sighs—he notices all of it. He might not act on it immediately, brushing it off when you explain that you just had a bad day, but when your fatigue and growing apathy persist…

I think you hiding something from him would spook him for sure, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be determined to get answers out of you. He’d set his personal anxieties aside and prepare for a serious talk.

He’d leave the office somewhat early, asking you to meet him at his apartment. He’d offer you a beer, or whatever you were in the mood for (if his lacking fridge and pantry allowed for it), and he’d ask you the big question.

“You aren’t yourself lately. What’s going on?”

He’s not happy when you start crying, but he’s definitely relieved when you collapse into his arms and explain your recent mood. Even more so when you confess it had nothing to do with him.

As always, he harbors immense guilt for not being there, not being endlessly supportive, not being able to solve the issues gnawing at you with his own two fists.

But what he doesn’t realize is that he’s helping just by being there. By being present and absentmindedly squeezing you with his tree-trunk arms. By acknowledging your struggles and offering what he could.

He’d cut his patrols short for a few days, nearly begging you to sleep at his loft instead of in your own bed, so he could keep a metaphorical eye on you. He sleeps better with you by his side anyway.

Mikey

You’re Michael’s whole world, so he’d know you were overwhelmed before you realized it yourself.

As soon as he spotted the stress lines on your face, he’d be on his feet, trying his best to lighten the burden.

He’d walk you to and from work, as always, maybe even stopping by to keep you company on your lunch hour.

When he wasn’t with you, or ignoring his family, he’d be constantly cleaning the house and working through your joint to do list, taking task after task off your plate so you could properly decompress.

He wouldn’t pressure you to talk to him about it, but he’d give you the option.

“I’m here if ya want to talk, pet. Anytime ya need.”

And, of course, you’d take him up on it. Explaining that you could handle everything and you didn’t want him to overwhelm himself trying to help you because it was just a pile of small things that were wearing you down. But he’d have none of it.

“I wanna do this fer ya. Let me help, love.”

He’d bundle you in a knit blanket on the couch and set the tv to your favorite show, kissing the top of your head before heading to the kitchen to clean up after dinner.

I hope you enjoyed! And I hope you’re all doing ok this week. It’s rough out there.

#matt murdock #daredevil #frank castle #matt murdock x reader #my writing #charlie cox #marvel #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x reader #frank castle x reader #headcanons

214 notes · View notes

ryusuisloveinterest · 2 months ago

Note

Hii, it's 🚙anon. Thanks for the last headcanon!

And so with the new idea (will write more later)

The Five Wise Generals and their s/o who has bad hearing/is deaf. How would the guys treat them, interact, learn to communicate and what will be the reason they fall in love w/them? (Ukyo will be interesting)

Welcome back 🚙 anon!! I had such a fun time writing this so I hope you like it! Let me know if you’d like anything else!

5 wise generals with a deaf S/o💖🌷

Senku:

I feel like he would know basic sign language

Like hello, yes, no, etc.

He’s definitely down to learn

Will probably pick up everything in like one or two days

He’d also make you hearing aids if you want them (or whatever implant thing people get I don’t remember what it is)

If you start crying when you hear for the first time, he’ll smirk and place a hand on your back

“Heh, what wrong? Already tired of hearing all the noise?”

I don’t think he’d just sit down and teach you how pronounce things

He’d just throw you in random situations and sign to you on the side what people are saying

If you don’t want hearing aids then he doesn’t mind occasionally being your interpreter, but there are some times he is too busy to help out

Wouldn’t treat you like your fragile, expects the same thing from you as he expects of everything else

He doesn’t really react when you first say I love you

Just smiles and nods

“Yknow I love you too”

Chrome:

“Soooo you don’t have the fuzzy eye sickness but you have the stuffy eye sickness????”

He’s really trying his best

Definitely wants to learn sign language, it just might take him longer to learn than senku

It still might not click to him fully that you’re deaf cause he still kinda shouts to get your attention

“y/n…. Y/n…Y/N…!!!”

Everyone just looks at him like wtf is your deal bro then it clicks to him again lol

He’d have no problem being your translator, but like I said before he’d have a harder time learning than senku, so he might be a bit frustrated with HIMSELF (he’d never be frustrated with you!) that he can’t help you more

If you want hearing aids/surgery then he’ll do everything in his power to get it for you

Has no idea what to do if you start tearing up from hearing

“Wha- I don’t- is something wrong??? Is it too loud????” He asks in the loudest voice possible

Definitely teaches you words and phrases one by one, contrasting from senku

Will definitely start off with phrases like, “chrome is my boyfriend” or “chrome is so cute”

When he hears you say you love him he immediately gets overwhelmed with love and emotion and starts to cry

“S-sorry… I don’t know whats gotten over me… I love you too my gem…!”

Stop bro chrome is so freakin cute!!!

Gen:

This MORON

Does not give a flip that your deaf, but he uses you so much to get out of working

“Sorry dear Senku-Chan~ but my sweet y/n needs help communicating with Francois so I’ll be on my way then” he says knowing damn well that Francois knows way more sign language than Gen could ever dream of of course Senku knows this and still makes him work

He loooooovees whispering somewhat dirty things in your ear because he knows you can’t hear it, but he always does it when he’s behind you cause he doesn’t want you reading his lips

“My sweet y/n If you only knew what you did to me. All I wanna do is kiss every inch of your beautiful body until I’ve covered every last in of you”

And then he just walks off like nothing ever happened 💀

Like Senku he probably already knows basic sign language and of course is willing to learn more, but just cannot grasp anything being taught to him

If you’re really good at reading lips he’ll just stick to that

If not then he’ll keep learning but mainly write you notes

If you get hearing aids/surgery then he’ll quickly begin teaching you how to speak

You remember how I said he just randomly comes up from behind you and whispers perverted things in your ear?

There was a time he forgot you had hearing aids and said all those things😗

The only reason he remembered was because of the deep shade of red that spread all over your face

When you are able to say I love you, his face is just shocked

But it soon fades into a sincere smile

“I love you too my heart”

Ukyo:

Ukyo would love you no matter what

Has no problem using sign language or writing things down on a piece of paper

If he learns sign language then he’d learn it faster than chrome but not as fast as senku

I still think Ukyo would want you to speak though

I’m not saying the other generals wouldn’t want to hear your voice, but Ukyo NEEDS to hear it

Doesn’t matter what you think your voice would sound like, Ukyo thinks it’s beautiful because it’s part of you

If you’re self conscious about it then he’ll definitely reassure you with rubbing your hands or soft forehead and cheek kisses

Every time you speak he signs “beautiful” or “lovely” for extra encouragement

Loves being your translator

He likes how he’s basically become your voice for everyone to hear

If you chose to get hearing aids/surgery then he’s immediately teaching you basic phrases to get around

As much as he would love to hear you say “I love you” or “I’m happy with you” he knows he needs to teach you phrases that’ll actually help you

But one day as both are heading to bed he hears what he’s always wanted to hear

“U-uku-Ukyo… i lo-love you….”

He just freezes, his eyes are already overflowing when he turns to look at you

“Can you please say that again…?”

He makes you repeat it over and over as he holds you and cries

He’s so happy, he never thought he’d hear those words come out of your mouth yet here we are

“Thank you y/n… I love you so much… more than you’ll ever know…”

Ryusui:

Ryusui might be a little overdramatic on how he cares for you 💀

Will NOT let you out of his sight

Worried about you getting in trouble or getting hurt because you couldn’t hear something coming this is also just an excuse to be around you too lol

Im not saying the other guys wouldn’t be concerned, Ryusui just takes it to the EXTREME

already learned sign language when he first found out you were deaf

He was all like, “I desire to speak with you, which way is easiest for you???” And then learned sign language lol

Besides being overprotective he’s still normal, obnoxious Ryusui

Always down to be your translator, whatever you need he’s there

Ryusui doesn’t care if you get hearing aids/surgery or not, he just wants what you want

If you don’t want any then that’s that, he’s not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to

If you do then you get it within seconds

So very patient and supportive when teaching you to speak

“Amazing job love! That’s one more word than yesterday!”

Whenever you first say I love you to him he’s the happiest he’s ever been in his life

He just picks you up and spins you around laughing and kissing all over your face

“HAHAH! I love you more my beautiful y/n! I love you love you love you!”

#dr stone #dcst #dr stone headcanons #senku ishigami #senku ishigami x reader #senku ishigami headcanons #chrome dr stone #chrome x reader #chrome headcanons #gen asagiri x reader #gen asagiri #gen asagiri headcanons #ukyo saionji #ukyo saionji headcanons #ukyo saionji x reader #ryusui nanami #ryusui nanami headcanons #ryusui nanami x reader

198 notes · View notes

v4mpiirew1tch · 19 days ago

Text

cg masaru, cg mitsuki & little bakugo headcanons!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

after the heat of the villan's invasion at the training camp died down, it was decided by mitsuki that although she trusted the school, she needed her son to be home with her and his father instead of an hour away

although she didn't want her son to be poked and prodded, especially after the horrible experience he just went through, masaru suggested that bakugo go to a therapist for a while. ( this especially became important after he suffered a major breakdown )

tdlr; after several weeks of sessions, the therapist found that bakugo was starting to age regress involuntarily as a result of his trauma, his overwhelming, self induced pressure to be the absolute best, and the general stress of going to a relatively new school that wasn't exactly going how he planned

at first, they had absolutely no idea how to go about helping bakugo heal, especially when he didn't want to participate in the healing, so he suppress the hell out of it which ultimately his regressive episodes way worse

mitsuki has to learn how to be gentler to him; not jumping to yelling at him when he misbehaves, keeping the motherly teasing to minimum and trying her hardest to get him to open up about how he's feeling

masaru is naturally soft spoken so he has no issue being gentle with his son when he happens to be regressed--however, the chances of bakugo opening up about his emotions or even listening to his father when he's being told to do something are little to zero

to combat his newly developed insomnia, they've tried putting him in the backseat of their car while he's wrapped in a blanket and driving him around the neighborhood to get him to doze off. sometimes it works!!

masaru and mitsuki never threw out bakugo's old pacifiers or baby bottles, his old baby blankets from when he was a baby are still stashed safely in a box someplace in their bedroom, so whenever he really needs them, they have it ready for him

adding onto this!!! ^^^ although bakugo's age range is about 4-8 years old, it is very easy for him to drop lower when he's triggered by something like a loud noise or someone touching him unexpectedly ( like on the back of his neck...... )

no matter what age he's regressed to, his go-to names for his parents are " momma " and " dada/daddy "

of course, because they raised bakugo, they're already somewhat familiar with his behavioral patterns; like which crying means his hungry or tired, ect.

it isn't exceptionally rare that bakugo wakes up from nightmares about his kidnapping and has to hold himself back from running to his parents room

because masaru is such a pushover, especially with his traumatized, regressed son, he usually has to call mitsuki into the room to help him a little

even though bakugo is suddenly so much bigger, muscular and heavier than the last time masaru held him in his arms ( bakugo hasn't wanted to be held since he was three years old ), he still holds him like he's a baby, like he hasn't aged a day

at times where bakugo doesn't want to eat, mitsuki will give him a baby bottle filled with vanilla ensure so he'll at least be getting some nutrients

masaru always make sure to sneak a blanket on top of bakugo when he inevitably tires himself out

fun fact; the manga panels used were pictures i took from my copy of my hero academia: team-up missions vol one!! bc i couldnt find better screenshots....

#vamp's rambles #vamp's headcanons #woo!!!!#idk why i felt the need to make this so quickly but here it is!!#little bakugo #bakugo katuski #cg masaru #cg mitsuki #mitsuki bakugou #masaru bakugou #mha agere #bnha agere #fandom agere #sfw age regression #sfw agere #age regression

113 notes · View notes

pulisicsgirl · 1 year ago

Text

christmas on my own - mason mount

summary: when Y/N finds herself spending Christmas alone for the first time in her life, a chance encounter with Mason may prove to be just the cure she needed for her holiday blues

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 6.3k

warnings/tags: semi-established relationship, the tiniest bit of angst at the beginning but overwhelming fluff for the rest of it, Christmas celebrations, awkward encounters with meeting the family for the first time

requested: no

notes: surprise!! Please ignore the fact that it's been three months since I last posted a fic. Life has been coming at me pretty fast this year, and it's made it incredibly difficult for me to find the time or motivation to write. But I've been thinking about and planning this one since almost October, so I wanted to be sure I was able to put this out as a little Christmas gift for you all!! Thank you for being so patient with my inconsistent posting schedule this year, and I hope you're all able to enjoy some time with your loved ones this holiday season! Also I know that Mila is still a baby, but for the sake of the fic, please pretend she's a toddler Merry Christmas to all of you, my loves!!

You blew hot air into your clenched fists in an attempt to warm them as you stood in the small Manchester café. The biting cold of the outdoors was still making your fingertips ache as you lingered near the counter, long after you had finished placing your order and paying.

You briefly surveyed the somewhat empty café, admiring the glowing lights and cheerful decorations that the owners had put out for the holiday season. A few sets of what you assumed to be grandparents and their grandchildren were also waiting alongside you, some of the children pressing their faces up against the glass display case as they relayed which pastries and treats they wanted to take home with them.

Today was the first Christmas that you had ever spent alone, and seeing the families happy and smiling together made your heart ache a bit, longing for your childhood when the season still felt magical and joyous.

To say that it had stung when your parents told you they would be travelling to spend the holiday with your brother would be an understatement. It had been unexpected, and they had only given you a little less than a week’s notice, meaning that as you were expected to work both the day before and after Christmas, you didn’t have enough time to make arrangements to go on the trip with them. You knew that your parents missed your brother as he had moved away a couple of years ago, and you understood why they would want to go see him and his wife that he had recently married. But it was hard to get left behind to spend the holiday that’s all about being together and giving to one another alone.

So now, on the afternoon of Christmas, you found yourself standing in a small bakery in Manchester, the very one that your family would always stop by on Christmas Day to get a few smalls treats to take back home after you had opened all of your gifts.

You had spent the morning at home, watching a couple Christmas films to try to put yourself in a festive mood and generally just feeling sorry for yourself. You had tried your best not to just mope about all day, but it proved difficult. By the time the afternoon rolled around, you decided that it just didn’t feel right to not make your annual trip to the bakery, even if it would be by yourself this year. So you had dragged yourself out of bed, put on a nice sweater and some black leggings and styled your hair a bit in the hopes of making yourself feel better, and decided to walk to the bakery in order to get a bit of fresh air.

You were lost in your own thoughts, fantasizing about the sweet taste of the coffee and pastry that would surely be coming your way soon when the bell above the entrance rang out. Your eyes naturally jumped over to the door to see where the noise was coming from, and your stomach sank to your feet when you saw who had stepped in.

It was Mason.

You and Mason had been going out for the last few weeks—not long enough to put an official label on it, but long enough that the two of you had gotten to know each other better and knew that you were both serious about this.

You had no idea what he was doing at the small bakery, but the last thing you wanted was for him to find out how pitiful you were, spending Christmas at home, alone on your couch.

Your hand darted up, scratching the side of your head in an attempt to hide your face from him as he approached the register only 10 feet away from you. Hoping that was enough to make sure he wouldn’t see you, your heart began to race as you realized that the worker would be calling out your name when your order was ready, and there would surely be no escape then.

You were beginning to contemplate the possibility of just leaving without the items you had paid for when his soft voice cut through your thoughts, thwarting any plans you’d had to run.

“Y/N?” he asked sweetly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Fancy seeing you here! Happy Christmas!”

You glanced up at him, his eyes bright as you tried to feign surprise at the sight of him.

“Mason, hi!” He drew you into a quick embrace, his scent surrounding you almost immediately. “Happy Christmas!” you mumbled into his chest before he released you.

“W-What are you doing here?” you rushed to ask, hoping to avoid any questions about your holiday celebrations.

“I’m actually on my way back home from training,” he spoke, scratching the back of his neck.

“Training? On Christmas?” you exclaimed. “That’s cruel!”

He laughed shortly, nodding along as he spoke. “I know, but we actually have a match tomorrow, so they couldn’t afford us a day off, unfortunately.” He shrugged, seeming like his cheery mood hadn’t been too phased by the interruption from his job. “But anyway, my family all came to mine for the holidays, and my nieces insisted I bring back a treat for them when I came home. I remembered you had mentioned this place, so I thought I should give it a try.”

Your heart fluttered at his mention of your conversation from a couple weeks ago. You had told him about the tradition in passing on a date when he had asked about how you and your family usually celebrated Christmas, and the fact that he had even remembered that detail meant the world to you.

“Oh, that’s so lovely that they were all still able to come up to celebrate with you,” you smiled at him.

“Yeah, they all arrived yesterday, and we did stockings this morning, but I’m sure my nieces are itching for me to get home so they can open the rest of their presents.”

Your chest felt warm at the way he always spoke about his family—especially his young nieces. Anyone could see from a mile off that he loved them all dearly.

“Are they going to be able to stay long?”

“They’ll be here for a couple of days, actually! Gonna be able to go to the game tomorrow as well, so I’m really excited to be able to have them there.” His grin spread nearly from ear to ear, the crinkles by his eyes becoming more pronounced. “But what about you? I’m assuming you’re here picking up the traditional Christmas pastries?”

Your heart sank, trying to find a way around the fact that you were alone for the holidays. You didn’t want him to pity you or to feel bad for expressing his joy over having his family with him. “Well, actually, I—um—”

“Y/N!” one of the bakery’s employees called out, placing a small to-go cup of coffee and a single, wrapped pastry on the counter. Your head dipped low, you walked over to the counter, picking up your order and quietly thanking the employee before you turned to walk back over to Mason. The look of confusion was unmistakable on his face as he looked at the single pastry in your hands, rather than the bulk order of treats that you had told him about weeks prior.

“My… parents actually went to visit my brother for the holidays,” you spoke quietly, having to force each word of your admission out. “So the order’s just for me today.” You forced a smile onto your face, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been on your own today,” Mason spoke, and you rushed to assure him that you were fine.

“I mean, yeah, but it’s—”

“Y/N, there’s no use in that. We have plenty of food and space at mine! You should’ve said something!”

“I—what?” His response caught you completely off-guard, not at all what you had expected him to say.

“Come over! We’d love to have you!” A huge smile spread across his face as he spoke to you. “There’s no reason for you to spend the holidays alone.”

“Mason, I couldn’t,” you immediately began trying to track back, but he didn’t seem at all discouraged by your protest. “I wouldn’t want to impose, and—”

“You’re not imposing, I’m inviting you,” he stated, matter-of-factly, as if it was just a simple matter. “My family would love to have you, and my nieces will be overjoyed to have someone new around!”

You were stumbling over your words, unable to fight against his persistence. “But… But I…”

“Look, we don’t have to say anything about us at all,” Mason said, sensing your resolve crumbling bit by bit. “You don’t have to meet my family as the girl that I’m dating, I’ll just introduce you as a friend. It’ll be completely fine.”

You bit your lip as you searched his face for any sign of hesitation. You couldn’t deny that the idea of joining in his family’s festivities did lift your spirits a little bit. The idea of being gathered around a Christmas tree and watching everyone opening gifts, maybe wrapped up in a warm blanket as you shared laughs with the others.

The final nail in the coffin for you was thinking about going back to your dreary apartment with the half-hearted decorations and spending the rest of the day by yourself.

“Please?” Mason pleaded with you one last time, his eyebrows raised as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes to convince you.

“You’re sure no one will mind?”

“I’m positive. My mum would be more upset with me if she found out I knew you were spending Christmas alone and didn’t bring you home.” The grin resumed its place on his lips as soon as you agreed, Mason bouncing slightly on his toes in giddy excitement.

Just at that moment, a voice rang out, calling Mason’s name, signaling that his order was ready to go. He quickly moved to the counter, scooping up the rather large box of pastries and holding it in one hand while he grabbed yours with the other and nearly dragged you out of the door of the bakery. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips at his almost child-like glee at your agreement to join his family for the rest of their Christmas celebrations.

“Alright, you want to just follow me there?” he asked as the two of you strode into the parking lot. You had been to his place once before for a movie night, but he wanted to be certain you got there safely and didn’t lose your way.

“I actually walked here from my apartment, so would you mind if I just rode with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“Of course, love.” The pet name slipped out without him even thinking about it as he led you to the passenger side of his car, opening the door for you. Testing his luck a bit, Mason pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head as you stepped past him to get into the car, and you felt the heat rushing into your cheeks as he closed the door behind you.

He popped in the driver’s seat, starting the engine and turning the radio onto some station playing nonstop Christmas music, and the two of you were off, heading in the direction of his home.

You were thankful that his house was a little while away as it gave you time to collect yourself before walking into a room full of Mason’s closest family members. You thanked your lucky stars that you had gotten to urge to dress at least a little bit nice before leaving your apartment that morning so that you’d be presentable for meeting them.

After all, even if he introduced you to them as his friend this time around, if things with Mason went the way you hoped they would, you’d be seeing them many times again in the future, and you wanted to make a good first impression.

The drive to his house was comfortable. The moments of silence were peaceful and never tense. The two of you caught up a bit since you hadn’t seen each other for a few days, and you tried your best not to think too hard about the nerve-wracking evening ahead of you. Mason kept glancing over at your bouncing knee—he could tell that you were nervous, and you could tell that he was fighting the urge to hold your hand.

So, in a moment of bravery, you reached over, bringing his free hand into your lap and intertwining your fingers. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the slight blush that crept up his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose as he began stroking his thumb across your knuckles, back and forth in a soothing motion.

Sooner than you were prepared for, Mason turned into the long driveway that wound back to his house, and you swallowed a nervous lump as his house came into view.

“You’re sure this is okay?” you asked as he put the car in park and turned off the engine, still somewhat nervous about intruding on their family holiday.

“Y/N, it’s fine,” Mason held your face in both of his hands for a moment, trying to reassure you to the best of his ability. “My mum loves hosting new people, so she’s gonna be super excited when I bring you in there!”

Something about the way he said that made your ears perk up. “Wait, Mason—Mason!” you exclaimed as he quickly got out of the driver’s seat. You threw open your door, leaping to your feet despite the fact that Mason was on his way around to your side to open the door for you. “Did you not at least text them to let them know I was coming with you?” you asked, exasperated.

Mason shrugged as if he didn’t see what the big deal was, shaking his head ‘no.’

“Mason! I can’t just—”

He cut you off by pressing his finger to your lips, gently shushing you. “Hey, trust me,” he looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s okay,” he said slowly.

Your shoulders slumped slightly, resigning yourself to him as you whispered a soft “okay.”

He tapped the tip of your nose and a quiet giggle escaped from your lips. You hated and loved how this boy could turn you into complete mush in mere moments. It made you feel so giddy but also so vulnerable at the same time, and it was a feeling you were still getting used to.

He held onto the car door, letting you step out from behind it before closing it and gestured for you to head toward his front door once he had retrieved the box of pastries from his back seat. He reassured you of his presence just behind you with his hand placed gently on the small of your back.

You hesitated at the front door, letting out a shuddery breath.

“Hey, it’s no biggie. Don’t freak yourself out, okay?” Mason spoke as if he had been able to read your mind, sneaking one final kiss to your forehead before stepping toward the door and reaching for the doorknob. Even though you hadn’t been seeing each other for very long, you noticed how Mason couldn’t seem to help himself from those small touches—the little gestures of reassurance like the forehead kisses, a hand on your back, and gentle touch on your knee—and it kind of surprised you how much they settled you, as you had never been big on copious amounts of physical touch in your past relationships.

Mason stepped through the doorway into his home, and you followed behind him, doing your best to still your racing heart.

It was only seconds after the sound of the door opening could be heard within the house that you hear the sound of tiny feet slapping on the floor, heading in your direction. Moments later, two little girls rounded the corner and came bolting toward you and Mason as he closed the door behind the two of you, the air filled with their squeals and giggles.

“Uncle Masey! Uncle Masey!” they screamed, wrapping their arms around each of his legs. Mason immediately matched their energy, clearly just as excited to be coming home to them as he squeezed them close to his body with his free hand. You took the box of pastries from him so that he could bend down, scooping them both up in his arms and pressing kisses all over their faces. The girls giggled and screamed as he told them how much he had missed them between kisses.

Mason finally pulled back after one final, dramatic kiss that had the older of the two wiping at her cheek and she laughed at him. If you had thought the way Mason spoke about his nieces was sweet, it was nothing compared to the way he acted around them.

“Summer, Mila, this is Y/N,” Mason spoke once the girls’ giggles had quieted.

“Is she your wife?” the older girl asked, and your mouth dropped open in shock.

Mason, clearly amused by her question, threw his head back and laughed. “No, Summer. Y/N is just my friend.”

“Oh, okay,” Summer shrugged, quickly moving on from the conversation, wiggling so that Mason would set her back on the floor. Immediately she took off, running out of sight and Mason followed behind her with Mila still in his arms.

Voices could be heard coming from the kitchen, and you remained just behind Mason as you followed him, hoping that his body would shield you from the rest of his family.

When you found the others, you first saw Summer crawling up into one of the tall chairs at the kitchen bar, surrounded by numerous others. Perfectly-shaped gingerbread cookies lined the countertop, placed on sheets of wax paper, and bags of differently-colored icing were strewn around the countertop, along with various shapes and sizes of sprinkles. Cheerful Christmas music was ringing out through the room, and a warm feeling spread through your chest at the sight of it all.

Several of Mason’s family members greeted him as soon as the three of you entered the spacious kitchen, happy to see him back home from training.

Mason wasted no time in bringing you around to his side with a gentle hand between your shoulders before he let his hand fall to his side, not wanting to make you feel self-conscious in front of his family.

“Guys, this is my friend, Y/N,” Mason smiled at you reassuringly. “She’s gonna be joining us for the rest of the day.”

His introduction irked you slightly, wanting to give more of an explanation for why you were crashing their holiday when Summer piped up from where she was very focused on decorating her gingerbread man. “And she’s not Uncle Masey’s wife.”

A chorus of laughs rang through the room, and you felt your cheeks heat up, forcing a laugh to try to play off the fact that you felt like you were about to pee your pants.

A woman who you could only assume was Mason’s mother wiped her hands off on a dish towel, walking in your direction with open arms.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you, Y/N! I’m Debbie—Mason’s mum,” she spoke, confirming your guess. Mason quickly snatched the box of pastries from you so your hands were free and Debbie pulled you into a tight embrace—it was one of those hugs where you felt every muscle in your body relax a bit, and immediately you felt a little bit more settled in the unfamiliar environment.

“Thank you so much for having me.” You felt a bit silly, thanking her for being willing to do something she hadn’t even really agreed to in the first place.

“No, no, it’s nothing!” Debbie pulled back from the hug, waving her hand at you before she led you further into the kitchen, beginning to introduce you to everyone. You met Mason’s father, Tony, who had greeted you with the same warm embrace that Debbie had, and then she introduced you to Mason’s brother, Lewis, and his sister Jaz and her husband before repeating the young girls’ names to you. Everyone had greeted you cheerfully, not even blinking an eye at the fact that Mason had brought a stranger home to join their Christmas celebration.

It wasn’t long before Debbie had you set up with your own sheet of wax paper and a cookie to decorate. You caught Mason’s eye, a sweet smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye that said I told you so.

You were surprised at how easy it was to settle in with Mason’s family. You had never been someone that was good at meeting new people, and it typically took you a while to warm up to them. But Mason’s family wasted no time in treating you as one of their own, and it almost felt natural to be there with them within minutes.

Playful banter was exchanged, Summer and Mila were shouting for everyone to look at their sprinkle-covered cookies, and everyone was laughing. Mason settled into his spot next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder.

Mason’s family asked a little bit about yourself, but they kept the questions light, and you were thankful that they didn’t try to dig into why Mason had brought you home.

Once all the cookies had been decorated, the girls began shouting that it was time to open presents and Jaz had to wrestle them into wiping their hands and faces clean of icing before they took off, sprinting in the direction of the living room.

Once everyone had settled in the living room, some on the couch, some sitting on the floor, Tony donned a large Santa hat and beard before he began to distribute the gifts that were under and around the tree. You had kicked your shoes off by the door and tucked your legs up under you as you settled into the cushions next to Mason, a respectable amount of space still between you as you still didn’t really know how to handle yourselves around his family.

Each person opened their presents as Tony handed them out, one by one, and everyone ooh-ed and ahh-ed as each gift was uncovered. Debbie and Jaz were taking lots of photos of everyone as they tore into their gifts. Your heart swelled at the thoughtful gifts that were exchanged. It became quickly apparent that remembering small details about the things people said was something that Mason had gotten from his family.

Mason kept silently checking in on you, glancing over to make sure you doing okay. You could feel his gaze on the side of your face, glancing over and making eye contact with him before shooting him an assuring smile.

By the time all of the presents were open and the wrapping paper and ribbons had been collected and put into trash bags, it was nearing dinner time and Debbie disappeared back into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the food. You sprang to your feet, naturally wanting to help her as a thank you for having you as a guest (despite her insistence that you didn’t need to), and Jaz joined the two of you soon after.

Conversation flowed naturally between the three of you, and you felt completely at ease talking with them as you worked to finish the finals bits of the Christmas dinner, most of it having been prepared before and very little needing to be done to finish it.

The fated question finally came up as the three of you were carrying everything to the table.

“So, Y/N, I don’t mean to pry, but I’ve got to ask.” Your heart leapt immediately at Debbie’s words. “Are you and Mason only friends, or is there something more going on there?”

You pondered for a moment how to answer her question. At the beginning of the day, you would never have dreamed of admitting the nature of your relationship with Mason to his mother. But now, after the time you had spent with him, you settled on telling her the truth. You knew you were serious about the budding relationship between the two of you, and you knew he was, too. Though you hadn’t officially put any labels on it, having decided to take things slow, you had started being more open about it with your circle of friends.

“Well, I… we’ve… gone on a few dates,” you started, and a pleased smile took over Debbie’s face. “We’re taking things slow, but he’s been an absolute gentleman and he’s been nothing short of amazing to me.”

Debbie beamed with pride at your words. “Well, I didn’t raise him to be anything less than that, so I’m glad to hear it.”

“We haven’t been going out for very long, and I really wasn’t planning on crashing your family’s Christmas today,” you felt the need to explain yourself, now that you were putting all of your cards on the table. “My family… they actually are out of town visiting my brother this holiday season, and I happened to run into Mason at the bakery this afternoon. As soon as he found out I was spending Christmas on my own, he insisted I come back here with him, and he was not taking no for an answer,” you chuckled at the recent memory.

“Oh, love,” Debbie’s face held a slight pout as she instantly read the sadness that you tried to hide over not spending the holiday with your family. She pulled you into another of her amazing hugs, placing a quick kiss on your cheek as she drew away. “Well I speak for everyone when I say we’ve loved having you here with us.”

Your mind flashed back to how unphased everyone had been by your arrival. “Does Mason do this a lot? Picking up strays for the holidays?” you tried to play off your question with a laugh, momentarily wondering if you were just another girl on a long list.

Debbie shook her head. “No, he’s never done anything like this before. And he’s certainly never brought a girl home for something like this,” she spoke, calming your nerves. You had felt a bit silly for asking in the first place, but her words soothed your fleeting insecurities. “But hopefully we can look forward to having you at many Christmases in the future,” she beamed, patting your cheek before she wandered back into the kitchen and refraining from prying any further.

You blew out a long breath that you didn’t even realize you had been holding, trying to wrap your head around the conversation you had just had—with a woman you had only met a few hours ago. And it wasn’t just some normal thing for Mason to bring girls home during the holidays, but everyone had just been that welcoming to you, despite showing up without warning. Your chest felt full, swelling with love for Mason and his family.

Debbie called the others to the table to eat, and you wandered in the direction of the living room, hoping to catch Mason for a moment before you joined the others. The rest of his family filtered out of the room, leaving you and Mason alone for the first time in the last few hours.

“You doing okay?” Mason asked, and you wordlessly wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and holding onto him tighter than you ever had before. Caught a bit off-guard by the affection, Mason wrapped his arms gently around your body, running his fingers up and down your spine.

His heart sank when you pulled your head back to look at him, arms still wrapped around his torso, and he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

“What happened, love?! Did someone say something—”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your lower lip trembling.

“For what, love?” Mason cradled your cheek in one of his hands, swiping his thumb under your eye to wipe away a tear. You noticed that he used the pet name more frequently when he was concerned.

“For bringing me here. For introducing me to your family. They’re amazing, Mason.”

A look of relief and adoration washed over Mason’s face and he smiled at you, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you let your eyes slip closed, allowing yourself to take a moment to yourselves and let your heart settle a bit.

“You know your mom asked me about us?” you broke the silence after a few seconds.

“Yeah?” he pulled back to look at your face, trying to gauge your reaction. “And what did you tell her?”

“The truth,” you gently shrugged your shoulders. “That we’ve gone out a few times and we’re taking things pretty slow, but that I think I’ll probably keep you around.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, and you nodded in response.

“Come on, we should probably head in there before Summer comes looking,” you pulled back, wiping away any stray tears with the sleeve of your sweater, hoping that no one would be able to tell how emotional you had just gotten.

The two of you joined the others at the table, taking your place between Mason and Summer after she had insisted you sit beside her, much to Mason’s fake offense. The food was incredible, as it had been a while since you’d had a big home-cooked meal like this, and you were sure to let Debbie know how much you enjoyed it. When everyone’s plates were empty, everyone took part in the freshly-decorated cookies and Mason and Lewis cleared the dishes, being sure to push you, Debbie, and Jaz toward the living room before any of you tried to help.

You were just returning from a quick trip to the bathroom when the boys walked back in from the kitchen, and you noticed everyone settling back down on the couch.

“We always watch a Christmas film after dinner, but I can take you home if you’re ready to leave,” Mason explained to you.

You thought over the offer for a moment, deciding you weren’t really ready to part from Mason and his family just yet.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind sticking around a little while longer—unless you guys were wanting it to be just a family thing,” you rushed to add, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

Your words were met with immediate protest from the rest of Mason’s family, each of them insisting that you stay, and Mason smiled down at you. “Yeah, what they said.”

You giggled, letting him lead you around to sit next to him on the couch, allowing yourself to sit a bit closer to him than you had earlier that afternoon.

Tony even offered for you to pick the film, but as soon as Summer had shouted her desire to watch Elf, you were all agreed.

Mason threw a fluffy blanket over both of your legs as the movie’s opening scene played. “Is this okay?” he whispered, trying not to draw anyone else’s attention and you nodded in return.

You tucked your legs under your body, allowing your knee to rest slightly on his thigh and your shoulder to lean onto his, now feeling more comfortable showing some affection around Mason’s family.

The movie played on, and your heart soared listening to Summer and Mila giggle and clap their hands at their favorite bits. You felt at home there with Mason and his family, all cozied up in his living room on the night of Christmas as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Your heart swelled with the love that you already felt for all of them, and though you knew it was still a bit soon, you couldn’t wait to get to know them and get to spend more time with them as your relationship with Mason developed.

As comfortable as you were and with all of the lights in the house turned off for the movie, you didn’t even realize your eyes were slipping closed until you jolted awake, recognizing the scene on the TV as one that was near to the end of the movie. Mason must have felt the sudden movement from where your head was resting on his shoulder, and he took your hand in his, running his thumbs over your knuckles to calm you, the same way he had done in the car earlier that day.

You nestled your head further into his shoulder, savoring the last few moments you had with Mason and his family before the movie ended.

It was over sooner than you would have liked, and everyone sat up from where they had sunk into the couch cushions, stretching and yawning. It was clear that everyone was exhausted from the day’s festivities. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, noticing Jaz and her husband quietly scooping up the girls from where they, too, had fallen asleep, and carried them down the hallway, seemingly to put them to bed.

“You ready to go home?” Mason asked you quietly as everyone began to rise from the couch. You nodded. “Okay, let me go grab my keys and we can head out.”

“Oh, Mason, I can just call an Uber or something, I don’t want to take you away from your family—”

“Absolutely not,” he cut you off. “You think I’m gonna let some stranger come pick you up and drive your back to your apartment?” You grinned at him, unable to find the words to answer him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His voice held an air of playful sarcasm.

Slowly, the two of you made your way to the front entrance. Everyone bade you goodbye as you made to leave. Debbie was sure to get a couple more hugs in before you left, insisting that you come around the next time they were up to visit, and you promised that you would.

Before long, you found yourself sitting in Mason’s car once again as he backed out into the street and set out on the route to your apartment. You were leaning across the center console of his car, leaning your head on his shoulder, and holding his free hand in yours.

You were feeling especially affectionate after the day you had, full of love for him and his family. The drive was silent as you listened to the music softly playing from his radio, no words needed to communicate to each other how you were feeling.

Before long, Mason pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex and insisted upon walking you up to your door, like the gentleman he always was.

As you reached your door, you turned to face him, giggling at the cliché of it all as you wrapped your arms around his torso. He pulled you in close to him, holding you tightly as he beamed down at you.

“Was your Christmas okay, then? Even though you didn’t get to spend it the way you usually do?”

“Mason, it was wonderful,” you smiled up at him, feeling like there were no words that would do justice for how the day had made you feel. “It was better than I ever could have imagined. Thank you for bringing me home with you today. I was honestly feeling awful after spending the morning by myself and this was the best Christmas miracle I could’ve ever dreamed up.”

Mason squeezed you a little tighter, pleased that his impulsive decision at the bakery to invite you to his home had worked out. “I’m so glad you were there. I’m so glad you got to meet them.”

“I am, too. And I’m glad I got to share this day with you.” Your heart felt like it was overflowing, and you could barely hold yourself together.

You snaked one of your hands around the back of Mason’s neck, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling him down to join your lips in a long but gentle kiss. It was the first one you had shared all day, as Mason had been waiting for you to initiate it first, but you couldn’t refrain from indulging yourself any longer. This was surely your favorite kiss that the two of you had shared, even more so than your first. It was so full of unspoken passion and love, and it left your head spinning when you finally pulled apart for air, foreheads still pressed together.

Mason couldn’t help but press two more quick pecks on your lips before finally pulling back to look at you. The two of you just smiled at each other for a moment, and you studied Mason’s features as you stood there.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Mason whispered, breaking the silence.

“Goodnight, Mason,” you replied. “Thank you for everything today.” Mason’s only response was a firm kiss on your forehead before he unwound his arms from your body, taking a couple of steps backward as he began heading back to his car.

You watched him walk down the hallway, glancing back at you with a wave before he rounded the corner, and you entered your apartment.

Closing your eyes and leaning against the closed door, you smiled to yourself. You may not have known Mason for long, but already, you were certain that this boy meant the absolute world to you, and his family had found their place securely in your heart.

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @mm-vii @captainpulisic

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount fic #footballer fic #footballer imagine #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount blurb

638 notes · View notes

dangraccoon · 15 days ago

Text

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE

Chapter 12 - Oblivious

Word Count: 2011

Content: No Order 66 fix it style, end of the war, Obi-Wan finds it

For @literallyjustanerd, based on this post

It had been a hectic day. Cody had barely any time to think, let alone really pay attention to anything beyond the scope of the war's end.

With General Skywalker and Kenobi’s discovery of the Sith plot, things were wrapping up quickly.

A few senators–as well as the new Chancellor Organa–pulled together Cody and several other clone officers to form a make-shift Clone Senate to discuss the creation of a Clone Rights Bill, so of course there were those meetings to deal with.

Battles still raged on some planets as ceasefires were negotiated. Not every Separatist planet was involved with the Sith, and some had very real grievances to be settled.

Alderaan, Naboo, Pantora, and Chandrila had all opened their planets to the incoming waves of refugees and the overwhelming number of vode with no home planet as Kamino faced sanctions for their crimes against the clones and the Republic.

One night, Cody was done early. He’d gotten through his list of formwork and finished all his meetings, so now he simply sat in his office. It was odd, having a moment to breathe a few months into “the end” of the war.

He picked up his datapad, his hands following the path they had so many times before until he reached a spreadsheet– the spreadsheet. He took a breath. It had been so long since he’d opened it.

He scanned through the entries, reading through them carefully, so he wouldn’t miss any detail of the memories. Soon that all-encompassing passion that he’d worked so hard to suppress since that morning after 79s would come flooding back into him, but maybe this time he wouldn’t have to hide it. Maybe he could stop shutting down any interaction with the General that wasn’t purely professional. Maybe they could be friends again.

Is that what they’d been - friends? A knot formed in his stomach. Cody had turned away from the General. He was still as polite and professional as he could be but he had to make himself almost robotic. Surely, General Kenobi would have noticed that. Maybe he wouldn’t mind, but what if he did and now he didn’t want to be friends–or anything else–with Cody?

The General was due back on The Negotiator any minute now so they could ship out on a relief mission.

As if on cue, there was a knock at his door.

“Yes?” he called, setting his datapad to the side to stand.

“Hello Commander,” that smooth voice said as the General entered. “I do hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all, sir,” he answered. “I’ve just finished for the evening.”

“I see,” Kenobi said. “We can discuss the next mission in the morning then.”

Kenobi smiled softly, then turned to leave.

Cody crossed the room to him, catching him by the wrist. Kenobi gasped softly and Cody let go of him immediately. He could feel his cheeks warming.

“Actually, sir,” he started, somewhat apprehensively. “I was just heading to the mess. Perhaps we could discuss it there?”

The General blinked in surprise for a moment and Cody felt as though he were teetering on the edge of a high cliff, but then he smiled and he was suddenly thrust under a warm afternoon sun.

“I would enjoy that immensely, Commander.”

Cody felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest as they walked through the halls of their ship side by side.

“So,” Kenobi said simply.

“So, sir?” Cody echoed.

Kenobi smiled softly. “It appears the end of the war is upon us,” he said. “Whatever will you do with yourself when you no longer have me bossing you about?”

Cody bit his tongue so hard it bled just a little. He’d nearly blurted out that he’d happily live the rest of his short, natural life with his General bossing him about. Hell, they could find a way to transfer his consciousness to a droid and he’d still follow his General to the ends of the galaxy.

He shouldn’t say that. He couldn’t put that on Kenobi’s shoulders, not now, not with everything going on. The General had enough on his plate.

“I suppose that depends on what they decide to do with us,” Cody said, eventually. He did his best not to sound bitter. “They’ll likely have us as a workforce for reconstruction on the war-torn worlds, if they keep us around at all.”

Kenobi went silent, his gentle smile gone.

Regret boiled up in Cody’s gut. He shouldn’t have said that either.

“I-I didn’t mean to upset you, Sir,” he said. “The lives of my brothers are… grimly set in stone. I shouldn’t have said–”

“No, no- I shouldn’t have asked that,” Kenobi said quickly. “But I do want to tell you–”

The General stopped his feet along with his sentence. Cody paused and searched his face, finding it almost pained.

“Tell me what?” he breathed. Adding after a moment, “Sir.”

Kenobi looked away, resting his hand on his chin as he often did when contemplating battle plans. In that situation, however, his eyes appeared determined. Now, they seemed distant, even worried, as he glanced around.

Cody looked around at the hallway that bustled with activity as their troops prepared the ship for their next mission.

Maybe it was a rash decision. Maybe, just for a moment, he didn’t care.

He grabbed the General by the arm, pulling him into the storage closet behind them.

“Cody! What–”

“Please, General,” he said. “What were you going to tell me?”

Kenobi’s eyes searched his face, dropped down to where Cody’s hand still rested on his arm, then back up. Cody dropped it to his side, feeling somewhat self conscious.

“I’m afraid I shouldn’t say much,” he murmured, his eyes not quite meeting Cody’s anymore. He tried not to feel the loss. “I– Well, I wouldn’t want to get your hopes up too high if it ends up being all for nothing.”

“Sir–”

“Oh, I do wish you wouldn’t call me that anymore,” the General muttered, his brow furrowing. “I’m not a General any longer.”

Before Cody could even think of a reply–aside from letting Kenobi’s first name fall from his lips the way he’d been dreaming of for the past two years–the General seemed to wave the thought away.

“My apologies, Cody, I know that is quite a lot to ask,” he continued. “And really, I shouldn’t be telling you anything, however I believe I must– that I owe that much to you given my feel–” Kenobi gasped softly to stop himself. “That is, given how well we’ve worked together these past few years,” he concluded.

Cody swallowed. He couldn’t explain why, but his throat suddenly felt very dry. “Sir, are you in trouble?”

“What?” the General asked. Then he laughed, the sound like music to Cody’s ears. “No, my dear– well, I suppose I usually am in trouble, but you’re always there to come and rescue me, aren’t you?”

“Always,” Cody breathed. “I’d always be there for you.”

He watched a deep blush bloom across Kenobi’s face, like it had when he’d complimented him all that time ago.

Kenobi huffed out a small breath as he smiled again. “You’re a good man, Cody. All I can tell you is that, whatever happens, you mustn’t lose hope for you and your brothers’ futures.”

Cody would have tried to find something–literally anything–to say, but then Kenobi’s hand was on his shoulder.

“Shall we continue?” the General smiled. “We have much to discuss in preparation for tomorrow, and I’d hate for anyone to think we were up to something rather different in here.”

“Would you?” Cody blurted out, taking a small step towards Kenobi in the already tight space. “Would you hate for others to think we were… something more?”

The General’s expression shifted rapidly. Cody could’ve sworn the deep red hue that colored his cheeks darkened slightly. Just like before, his lips seemed to form words that wouldn’t come out.

“General?” Cody prompted.

“Right,” he said, seeming to come back to his senses. “Shall we then?”

Once again before Cody could answer, Kenobi nodded, then quickly turned to leave the closet. Cody followed close behind him.

They walked in silence to the mess hall and as Cody got a tray and Kenobi fixed himself a cup of tea. When they sat, Kenobi launched right into the mission. They picked up their normal back and forth just as they had all through the war, and Cody would be lying if he wasn’t at least a little grateful for it.

They’d moved on to discussing the timeline of the projects they’d be leading when Cody’s brow furrowed.

“I suppose this would be much easier if I’d brought my datapad,” he grumbled. “I’ll just go grab it quickly and–”

“Don’t be silly, my dear,” the General scoffed, glancing down at the tray. “You’ve hardly eaten anything. I’ll go.”

“General, I don’t–”

Kenobi held a hand up to quiet him. “Please, Cody. It’s no bother.”

And with that, he was off.

Cody waited until the General had crossed the threshold back into the hall before tapping Rex’s code into the comm on his wrist.

“Code? Wh’s goin’ on?” his brother mumbled when he answered. He sounded as though he’d just woken up.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. “I’m sorry, kih’vod,” he sighed. “I forgot you were off-world.”

“‘It's fine, ‘m awake now. Never call, though. What’s wrong?”

“Ah, well, I might’ve dragged the General into a storage closet.”

The line was silent.

Cody scowled at the comm. “Rex, are you there? Did you he–”

“No, I heard you,” Rex scoffed. “Would I be wrong to say ‘finally’?”

Cody huffed, then quickly ran through the entire interaction.

Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to pry, of course. He respected Cody and his privacy, but then he glimpsed his own name in an unfamiliar document, and couldn’t help the way he was drawn in.

He read through each carefully entered observation, as well as the explanations and notes.

But then he got to the last two supposedly irrational explanations.

He was sure his face was redder than Dathomir. All this time, he thought Cody knew how he felt and just hadn’t returned the feelings. Sure, his Commander would flirt back from time to time, but now Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure if Cody even realized he had been flirting with him.

But the soft mando’a Cody had whispered to him that night after 79s still echoed in his mind. “Gar cuyir ori'jaon'yc bal ori'mesh'la par ni at digur mayen be'gar, ner cyar’ika.”

No one had ever spoken so reverently about him before. He’d never been told he was important. And until now, he thought the only person who’d ever wanted to speak such lovely things to him had forgotten all about it.

Ultimately, Obi-Wan was grateful Cody hadn’t vocalized anything about the subject since then. He’d realized after that night that while he was hopelessly in love with the man, he could never tell him.

Being his commanding officer, Obi-Wan could bear the idea that maybe Cody was just going along with it out of either pre-programmed loyalty to him or because he felt he had no choice. Guilt had gnawed at Obi-Wan after every interaction after that.

Then… everything happened. The discovery and subsequent defeat of Sidious meant an end to the war. Their duties pulled them apart, but slowly, he’d felt some hope well up in his chest. An end to the war meant he wasn’t a General anymore. So perhaps, now…?

Before he realized what he was doing, Obi-Wan had created a new entry to Cody’s very organized spreadsheet. He read over the words he’d written a few times, then highlighted the whole entry, highlighting it in a light blue.

He closed out of the document, hoping Cody wouldn’t find his addition until he was alone, then made his way back to the mess hall.

Cody smiled when he saw Obi-Wan walking back to him and he felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

Event: My dear, oblivious Commander left his datapad unattended on his desk with this document still open

Rational explanation: Cody is once again overtired from working so incredibly hard (as he is wont to do) and simply forgot to power down the datapad, too distracted by his sense of duty and work ethic, as admirable as they are detrimental to his sleep

Irrational explanation: The Commander shares in my affections but is simply so oblivious to my (rather obvious) signals that he feels the need to rationalise our interactions instead of accepting that we are, and indeed have been, flirting

Additional notes: In regard to the above: it meant everything and more to me, my darling x

↫ Previous Chapter

Next Chapter ↬

Thanks for reading! - River

Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE Master List DangRaccoon Master List Tag List Form Read on AO3

Tags: @nekotaetae @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @lokigirlszendaya @nomercyforthewarrior @Padawancat97 @idoubleswearimawriter @wishyouthetest @orangez3st @Amiacatholicoracat-holic @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

#DangRaccoon #Dang writing #commander cody #obi-wan kenobi #codywan #the clone wars #the clone wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfiction #tcw #tcw fanfiction #Untitled Spreadsheet - PRIVATE

35 notes · View notes

vesanal · 4 months ago

Text

ʚɞ ~Blog Introduction Post~ ʚɞ

Howdy there!! Ok. So. It’s been long enough. Probably should have done this earlier but here it is now!

Anyways, hello! You can call me Ves/Vesanal or some variant of that! I love to write and do art because I like to suffer creatively twice. I am getting back into writing after a while and I will be using this blog to share my works as they come along!! I have some projects I’m working on that I am very excited to share with y’all!!

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

→Quick Links:

Side Account!

Join The Taglist!!

Writemas Masterlist!!

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

→Here is some info about me:

I love love love making art and writing. Those are two of my greatest passions in life

Pronouns are She/Her

Plotter by heart, I cannot call a story finished if I do not know every minute detail. Quite overwhelming at times but I get by!

I am a stressed out college student who probably shouldn't be scrolling tumblr all day long but here I am.

Computer Science/Math Major, I couldn’t decide on which subject to drain my soul from so I picked both. If I am a bit inactive at times it is due to this

Love to yap and listen to certified yappers about fandoms and OC’s. Infodump about WIPs to me!!! I will gladly listen!!

Proud lesbian, and yes the lgbt girl in CS stereotype is alive and true. If you have a problem with this you are on the wrong website friend

Some of my favorite genres are Fantasy, Sci-Fi, and Drama. Gotta love TV shows and movies to absolutely nerd out over :D

The type of music I like is all over the place but mostly I stick to hard rock, heavy metal, and thrash metal (I would be more than happy to tell y'all about the bands and like and even recommend some)

My MBTI personality type is INTP-T

I am a complete Tumblr NOOB. Please bear with me here while i try to figure out the hellsite <3

My time zone is CST/CT (Central Time)

You can DM me anytime. Along with asks too, but please do not send me any promotions or begs for money. PLEASE. I have gotten a few of those recently and I just want to say that is not what my blog is for. Other than that, asks are completely open! If you have a question, please ask me!!! :) <3

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

→Some of the wips of mine:

(There will be separate intro/masterposts for each of these when i get to them

The Bone-Binder’s Covenant

(click link to see masterpost)

Basic Premise: The Bone-Binder has broken his promise with the land of Pytharios, and is now terrorizing the region to get what he wants. Chosen directly by the Queen, Aerlyra Ghorne–a promising yet incredibly unsure woman–is tasked to stop him for once and for all. With the help of her assigned crew and companions who join alongside her during the journey, she hopes to do just that.

Tags: #The Bone-Binder’s Covenant or #TBBC

Genre: Dark Fantasy; Adventure

Status: Active (Somewhat done and planned, still getting a feel for everything, still brainstorming some ideas)

I will be adding more links as I post!!

We Die As One

(Adding masterpost soon)

Basic Premise: Tells the story from a series of ancient journals that are uncovered showing the events following up the total wipeout of all magic. The journal entries focus on a group of scrappy, young heroes who are on a mission against the world, and fail to stop the evils of the world from taking over. All that is left of them is the journals, leaving the ways of the past to be seen as a distant memory and an inspiration to the new generation, who see how the world came to what it has become.

Tags: #We Die As One or #WDAO

Genre: High Fantasy; Action-Adventure

Status: Active (ish, still in idea-phase)

I will be adding more links as I post!!

I still have more WIPS but those are secrets for later ;)

I’ll be posting mainly about my wips, ask games, the occasional art, and writing memes so stay if you are into that!! You can ask me questions any time, don’t be afraid to ask!

Taglist under the cut (interreact with this post here to be +, notify me if you want to be -)

@seastarblue @seafloor507 @stars-forever @viridis-icithus @estrellasxxminis @synthesistoagreatercreation @ink-stains-and-constellations @wyked-rebellion @satohqbanana @amatowriting @riverstixx @theodora47 @selfemployedmess @thebookishkiwi @17panicattacksinatrenchcoat @memento-morianon @the-ellia-west @write-with-will @jwritesalright @sunflowerrosy @myniceisniceblogbloglog @corinneglass

58 notes · View notes

elysiansparadise · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Elysian! I hope you're having a great day ^^

May I ask for your opinion on Mercury in the 10th house?

Thankyou!

Hello love! I am, I hope you are having a great day too.

Mercury in the 10th house

These people are usually seen as very capable and intelligent by other people, it is likely that they have a skill or talent that makes them stand out greatly in one of their circles. Many of these natives tend to be a recurring topic of conversation for people, whether in their family or work area. Since I mentioned work, these people can find it very easy to climb the ladder, achieve promotions or get close to bosses. They may have in mind that they must progress, that they must be constantly doing something and that they have to be productive. The idea of not continuing to improve or stagnating can make them very nervous. They tend to have an inner perfectionism that makes them not believe or accept their own abilities or demand a lot from themselves. Burnouts and stress are very common with this placement. They have an insatiable curiosity and enjoy continuing to learn, so it is very important that they look for jobs that allow them to expand their mind, acquire new knowledge, or that it’s not so rutinary.

They tend to be people who are anxious about the future, they are also somewhat restless both physically and intellectually. I have noticed that many people with this placement do not seem as sociable as they really are, even if they fall into the introvert category, people may feel that it is easy to talk to them about any topic. They have very diverse interests and in different categories, and they can stand out in more than a single interest. It is precisely for this reason that in terms of the labor field, they can have quite a few options, some of the most common are: writers, communicators of any type, public relations, sales sector, teachers and even public figures. Many of them tend to look younger than they are and can be very good at communicating with all types of people regardless of their age. However, they may enjoy talking more with people older than them or with more experience on topics that awaken their interest. Despite their open nature, they are people who, when they have a problem or moment of tension, may prefer to isolate themselves to resolve it. They have difficulties with the idea of being able to rely on or ask for advice [and even help at times] from others. They have learned to figure things out. out by themselves.

Their way of speaking arouses the interest and curiosity of others easily. They are very dual people in their communication, oscillating between charisma and professionalism. It is very likely that their words frequently inspire others or that their advice remains impregnated in the minds of those who listen. These people prefer to stay realistic and can be very objective in their way of seeing things. They like to have things told to them clearly, as they take their time to make people understand their point. Despite being very realistic people, they have a high degree of creativity and can be quite inventive. They understand and learn things through practice and things that are only theoretical can seem overwhelming to them. They think very carefully before making a decision and do not usually allow themselves to be influenced by others. Ironically, many may turn to them when they do not know where to go, what to do, or generally feel clueless/lost. They are people capable of understanding the points of view of others without changing their way of thinking, they can see the same situation in different ways.

-> Go back to the masterlist

#astrology #mercury in the 10th house #mercury #10th house #natal chart #astro note #mercury in the 10th #mercury in 10h #mercury in 10th #birth chart #astro observation

367 notes · View notes

v3nusstardust · 4 months ago

Text

How close can best friends get?🫶

|| Beomgyu x Reader ||

Genre : fluff 🤍

Warnings : none ho

You had a long rough day , but your bestie beomgyu came to the rescue! Long story short.. after work you called him crying about all the stress and pain you’d been keeping in for a while.

He’s always there to listen ,he always has been there. That’s what made him so special to you. He wasn’t just your best friend but.. he was also your crush.. somewhat. You loved him like a best friend but also like a lover ..

It had been a tough day…. work was overwhelming, and everything seemed to be falling apart. You felt exhausted and lost, like the weight of it all was too much to carry alone. So, you did what you always did when you needed someone, you called your best friend Beomgyu.

When you called him, he picked up right away. You could barely speak through the tears, but Beomgyu didn’t rush you. He just listened, his calmness making you feel safe enough to let everything out.

“I’m sorry, Gyu,” you cried, your voice shaking. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything just feels like too much.”

“It’s okay.. Don’t apologize for the way you feel y/n .. I’m here to listen, Im not going anywhere, Kay?” Beomgyu’s voice was steady and warm.

You told him about the stress from work, the pressure you’d been feeling from life in general, and the weight of everything you’d been keeping to yourself for so long. It felt good to say it all out loud, even though it was hard. Beomgyu listened through it all. He was always so patient with you. That’s what made him so special.

Beomgyu has always meant so much to you. It’s hard to ignore the truth but.. you’ve always had feelings for him. Just a little.

You’d always been so careful not to blur the lines between friendship and something more. Beomgyu was your best friend, the one who could make you laugh when you felt like crying, the one who would listen to your rants late into the night. But over time, those feelings had deepened into something else. You’d tried to suppress it, to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when he laughed, or how you always found yourself thinking of him when you were alone.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you," you whispered. "You’re always there when I need you... m-more than anyone else. I just don’t know how to say it.” Your voice was shaky with emotion.

He was quiet for a moment, the silence almost deafening. You worried for a second that you had said too much, but then you heard his soft and gentle laugh.

“You don’t have to say anything, really. I get it,” he replied, his tone warm and reassuring. “I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

“I’m so glad you’re in my life,” you said. And for a moment, you wondered if he felt the same way too.

"Hey, why don’t we hang out tonight?" he suggested. "I don’t think it’s good if you’re alone with your thoughts tonight y/n… I know how you can get sometimes.. I can come over, we can eat snacks, and watch some movies. What do you say?”

“I’d love that,” you said, the exhaustion in your voice mixing with a bit of relief. “That sounds perfect, Gyu! But.. it’s like 1 am right now”

"I know," he said . "I'll be there in 20 minutes, okay? Get comfy, we're doing a full movie marathon.”

—————

You sighed and leaned back in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts still spiraled. The rattling sound of the wind outside was oddly comforting.

You were grateful for Beomgyu, though. He always knew how to show up, even when you didn’t ask for it. He never pushed when you needed space, but he also never hesitated when you needed someone to remind you that you weren’t alone.

|| 1:47 am ||

You continued to just zone out for a while , until you heard a knock on your door.

You put on your cute slippers and fixed yourself a little as you made your way to the door. You took a deep breath in before opening the door.

“Hi gyu “ you gave him a warm smile. Beomgyu stood there, a bag of snacks in one hand, his other hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie. He grinned as soon as he saw you, the familiar twinkle in his eyes making you feel a little lighter. “Hey, Y/n,” he said. “Got you some chips, candy, and..” He paused, holding up a cup of (your fav drink).

You smiled a little wider, stepping aside to let him in. “Ugh gyu you’re literally the best. What would I do without you” you sighed as you both made your way to your room.

“Sorry about the mess.. ha..” you chuckled nervously. You forgot to pick up a bit before he came , but whatever he’s your best friend. He didn't comment on it though, just tossed the bag of snacks onto your bed and flopped down next to it.

“Movie marathon?” he asked, reaching for the remote. "I'll pick the first one, and no falling asleep during the movie! " he teased.

“I never do!” You giggled as you took a seat beside him on the bed.

He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not buying it. “Mhm.. sure y/n” he replied. You laughed.

“What movie do you wanna watch? “ he asked while scrolling with the remote.

You thought for a moment before answering, grinning a little. "How about (your fav movie) ?" you suggested, the one movie you could watch over and over again without ever getting bored.

“Ahh good choice,” he said before clicking play on the remote. You leaned back into the pillows, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders as the opening scene began.

As the movie played on, you found yourself not really paying attention to the plot, but rather.. Beomgyu's presence. The lighting was dim in your room .. and it just made him glow. His side profile was gorgeous and his beautiful blonde mullet was the cherry on top.

You found yourself staring a little longer than you should, trying to pinpoint what was making your heart race in a way that felt unfamiliar. The warmth of his presence was always comforting, but this felt different.

His blonde mullet, slightly messy , framed his face so delicately . The dim lighting of the room made him look almost ethereal… like something out of a dream. You blinked again, trying to snap yourself out of it.

What’s going on with me? You shifted uncomfortably on the bed, maybe it’s because how close you were to him

You told yourself it was just the exhaustion of the late hour, the cozy atmosphere, or maybe just how close the two of you were that made everything feel a little too... intimate.

But… he was your best friend. You’d always felt safe with him, always had fun with him. You could talk about anything, and he always knew exactly how to make you laugh. There’s no way this could be anything more, you thought, trying to rationalize it. Right?

You glanced at the clock—3:56 am. A yawn escaped your lips, and you tried to stifle it, but it was no use. The tiredness was finally catching up with you.

Beomgyu caught onto it. "Tired, huh?" He smiled at you . "Told you , you wouldn’t last."

You rubbed your eyes and let out a small laugh. "I guess so..." Your head felt heavy, your body sinking deeper into the bed. Maybe I was a little more tired than I thought.

You rested your eyes. and then.. you fell asleep.

————————

|| 8:41 am.. ||

Your mind was still foggy from sleep, and for a moment, everything felt like a blur. The soft rays of morning light filtered through your window, but it wasn’t until you felt the warmth next to you that you realized something was off. you felt something or other.. someone beside you. Your mind was still hazy from sleep. You froze for a moment.

Wait, what? You thought, suddenly very aware of the weight on your shoulder and the arm draped gently across your waist. Beomgyu. You could tell by the soft breathing that he was still asleep.

You carefully shifted, but Beomgyu’s arm tightened around you, pulling you closer in his sleep. He picked up his leg and draped it over yours. Oh my god, you thought, panic rising. This is so not how I imagined waking up. You tried to remember how you’d ended up like this. The last thing you remembered was falling asleep, your eyes getting heavy and then… but how did he end up so close beside you?

You were tangled up with him, literally and emotionally, and you had no idea what to do with the sudden rush of warmth flooding your chest. You carefully tried to shift your body away from his.

This made it so much worse.

Beomgyu scooted closer to you. Resting his head on your chest and cuddling you like a little teddy bear. His warm breath tickled your neck as he scooted even closer. You felt your face flush at the closeness. You bit your lip, trying to calm your racing heart. For a moment, you simply laid there, his warmth against you, listening to the soft sound of his breathing. Maybe you could just stay in this moment forever, pretending everything was fine, pretending you weren’t questioning everything about your feelings for him.

The way he fit so perfectly against you, his body pressed up against yours like he belonged there. You had never felt this kind of closeness with him before, and it was making everything inside you feel... confusing.

This isn’t right. He's just my best friend. He’s always been my best friend, you tried to remind yourself, but it was hard to focus on anything other than the way his body felt against yours. The beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin, the way he seemed so at ease with you...

You shifted slightly, trying to adjust without waking him. But Beomgyu stirred, his head moving against your chest, and then he murmured your name in his sleep. “Y/n…”

You froze again, your heart skipping a beat.

You glanced down at him, his messy blonde hair falling across his face, his features soft in sleep. For a second, you just stared at him, wondering if he could feel the same pull you felt. Could he?

You shifted slightly again, carefully, and Beomgyu's eyes fluttered open, barely. He blinked lazily, then mumbled, “Hmm? Are you okay?”

You tried to swallow the nervous lump in your throat, your mind still spinning. “Yeah,” you whispered, voice barely above a murmur. “Just... tired.”

He hummed in response, snuggling deeper into you, as if THIS was perfectly normal. “Good,” he whispered, then relaxed back into his position, his head resting on your chest again. You could feel his breath, slow and steady, against your skin.

“Are you sure you’re okay y/n? Your heartbeat is very fast..” he said with a concerned tone.

“Maybe... maybe I’m just... overthinking,” you said quickly, your voice was shaky.

He shifted, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look directly at you.

“Y/n… If you’re not okay, you know you can tell me, right?” His voice was gentle, filled with understanding.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… just tired, like I said.” You continued to lay straight on your back, staring at the ceiling.

Beomgyu didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he didn’t push any further. Instead, he just gave you a soft smile and laid back down. This time he laid closely next to you. His body turned to face yours. His fingers traced every strand of your hair.

"You're not usually this quiet," he said after a while, his voice softer now. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I just don’t want to mess things up. I don’t want things to change between us."

“Y/n, nothing’s going to change,” he said quietly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was light, gentle, but the way it made your skin tingle only made your heart beat harder. "You’re my best friend, and that’s never going to change. No matter what.”

“Are you sure?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if the slightest doubt would shatter the fragile moment between you. You turned your head to face him, your breath catching when his eyes met yours again.

Beomgyu smiled, his gaze gentle but filled with sincerity. "I’m sure," he said. "I’ll always be here, Y/n. Nothing’s going to change that."

But as you stared into his eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder… what if it already had?….

(a/n : my bad for not writing the last several months. I had a bf but he treated me like shit …🗿 butttt now I’m back fr 🌜 also sorry for mistakes I never reread ts after im done writing fr)

50 notes · View notes

cardiac-agreste · 2 months ago

Text

The Demon Takes Two Chairs (Ao3)

Après moi, le déluge.

I'm excited to announce the release of chapter one of my new Miraculous longfic for @mlbigbang2024.

First, I want to thank @uptoolateart for generously beta reading this story. @supergirl9130 has provided art for the first chapter (click through to the work to see it!).

Thanks to @amarilke for some last-minute help as a fact-checker on ch1.

The story is canon divergent, but also somewhat canon adjacent given that much of canon has happened, but some of it in different ways. But, crucially, most of the identity reveals have not happened. I'd rather do those myself :) Think of it as Justice League meets Twelve Angry Men. Superheroes weighing the fate of the accused, except they all have reasons to resent each other (when you start thinking about it, there's a shocking amount of reasons in canon for there to be grudges and grievances!).

Blurb

Nathalie Sancoeur has turned on Gabriel and gave information to Ladybug that led to his downfall. Now, her ragtag team of Miraculous holders must decide what to do with her while she is being held prisoner by Bunnyx in her time burrow.

Ladybug feels overwhelmed by all her allies’ differing opinions and by the revelation tonight that her boyfriend is a sentibeing. She sets out to convince them that Adrien Agreste’s closest quasi-family should be shown leniency. As the team debates Mme Sancoeur’s fate, old wounds are re-opened, and the team feels like it's falling apart.

Most painful of all is that Ladybug hasn’t seen Chat Noir in days.

Image: Mahna no Varua Ino (The Demon Speaks) [verso] by Paul Gauguin, 1893–94

37 notes · View notes

drefear · 2 years ago

Text

Hail to the King

Chapter 1: The Spider Man

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: smut, oral (m receiving) cursing, Miguel is a bit of a creep and a dick.

You stood outside the restaurant for a moment, staring at the dark night sky.

What just happened?!

Tears fill your eyes, threatening to spill over as you grind your teeth for a moment, practicing self control over your overwhelming upset and hurt. Was that even legal?

You sniffled and balled your fists. Fuck this guy, with his expensive looking suit and obvious God Complex.

You muttered obscenities as you walked home, not getting in the car and waiting like he ordered you to. Fucking ordered!

Two blocks down and you sighed, getting to the subway and finding a train to take you to your apartment, located in a less-than-safe part of Nueva York. But you didn’t care, you could take care of yourself.

Eyes tired from holding back your need to cry, you walked up a few flights of stairs to your floor, you convinced yourself it was good exercise. Twisting your key in the somewhat broken lock, you pushed into your doorway and slammed it shut behind you with the deadbolt.

That’s when the dam broke and the water works started. You’d gotten so lucky with such a great job, and now some power-drunk prick with a nice face ruined it without a solid reason.

He didn’t like you, so he decided to hire you? What backwards bullshit was that?

Not bothering to take your makeup off, you pulled off your clothing and slumped into bed with no plans of doing anything tomorrow morning. It was going to be a day to process and plan your next move.

Loud banging on your door made you fall out of bed, practically jumping out of your skin as the sudden thunderous sound was terrifying without warning. Grabbing your baseball bat from your coat closet, you tugged your hair into a messy bun and swung the door open.

“You’re late.” The big guy from last night? “And you apparently don’t answer your phone either.” His voice was unamused, blunt, and you didn’t care for it.

“How the fuck did you-“ you yelled, then remembering that apparently he was close to Peter, who had all of your information from hiring you. “You’re a sick fuck, now you’re stalking me?”

“Watch it, I’ll fire you.”

“I don’t wanna work for you, now leave!” You screamed and moved to slam the door, only to be stopped by a large hand holding it back. Miguel opened the door with a swift push and you stumbled backwards, caught off guard and off balance from his strength. It was like he was barely moving a cup, not even moving a muscle.

“I’ve decided that you’re going to work for me, and I always get what I want.” He spoke, stepping inside of your small apartment. “Now get dressed, so you can get to work.”

“Go fuck yourself.” You spit back at him with venom you didn’t know you hate. You hated him. “Go find some other girl to obsess over and creep out.” You continued and swung the bat, him catching the wood and staring down at you.

“Obey me and I’ll reward you generously.”

“I’m not your dog, I don’t need to ‘obey’ you!” You groaned out as you yanked the bat backwards.

“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year plus bonuses when you complete certain tasks.” He spoke almost too fast.

The words passed by your ears in a blurt as white-hot rage filled your mind. The devil and angel on your shoulder fought and you didn’t know which one was fighting for what.

“Fine. Three hundred thousand a year. Bonuses, access to our facilities, a new phone, and an apartment on the west side.” He added.

“What the hell will I be doing? You don’t even know if I’m qualified, or if I’m a normal person. I could be a murderer.”

“That’s doubtful, as you couldn’t even hit me with a bat, and I’ve seen all I needed to. You’re most definitely qualified.” He answered, still offending you in a strange way. “Now get ready. I’m late because of you, and if I weren’t the boss, I’d rat you out.” He fixed his suit and sat in one of your dining chairs, the squeak of its legs making him scrunch his eyebrows in annoyance.

You huffed and moved, accepting that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’ll call the cops.”

“That won’t work. La policía and I have an understanding.” It seemed like nothing was working and he knew it. “Are you done?”

Maybe if you played along for a bit, he’d get the idea and fuck off. Grumbling, you trudged into your bedroom.

“So what will I be doing?” You called to him as you went to your closet and pulled out a random blue dress shirt and black pants.

“You’ll be my right hand. Like an assistant but much more involved. You’ll work closely with my second, Lyla, and head operator, Jess.” He gave a full debriefing as you slipped on the clothes and moved towards the bathroom. “I’ll send a few of my men to help you move tonight, I don’t need you getting jumped out here in the slums.” He spoke with a certain disgust in his tone and you rolled your eyes.

“Your men? Second? Are we in a war or something?” You laughed, but he was quiet. No sense of humor, noted.

“Something like that.” His voice was lower, almost like it was a secret he didn’t want anyone around him to hear except you.

“Not that I care, but why me?” You brushed your teeth and waited for his answer, but nothing came. “Hello?”

“You’ll figure it out soon enough. Just know that I will not accept your refusal. You will work for me.” His speech was almost flattering, if he weren’t so infuriating. You dotted on some makeup and walked out to meet him. Slipping on a pair of low, black heels, he was already at the door. “Let’s go.” He nodded and opened your front door once more before walking ahead of you into the elevator. You hurried behind and almost missed the door as he stuck a hand through to stop them from closing. Your eyes didn’t meet him, avoiding having to thank him for such a small gesture of kindness after all the rudeness you’d endured. “And by the way, they call me Spider Man.” He said calmly as the doors shut and suddenly, your pounding blood was in your ears.

Spider man…?

As in… the most dangerous Mafia leader in Nueva York? The leader of the O’Hara family and the rumored Spider Society? A man infamous for murdering people with his bare hands, constructing some of the greatest hits on politicians and leaders all over the state?

Your body turned cold as you began to sweat. You were in the presence of a man known for being a brutal killer and a money-hungry demon who ruthlessly destroyed lives.

And he wanted you.

The trip to his headquarters was silent, sweating nervously as all of the rumors you’d heard about him came back to you. How he once almost killed a fifteen year old because he “ran out on a tab,” but luckily Peter paid it for the poor boy. Now, apparently, that same boy works for him. Peter told you the story on your first day, how some of the Spider Society frequented their restaurant, but it never occurred to you that this was him.

You remembered Gwen telling you over drinks after your first shift about how a lot of the staff of your restaurant had once been or still were low ranking members of the Society. You had said you just wanted to make your money and get on with your day, to which she laughed and said “that’s how I was too.” You left the conversation there and talked about other things, but now you couldn’t stop repeating her words over and over.

It was like the city was overrun by Spiders, all answering to the Spider Man himself. A man you were currently trapped in a moving vehicle with. A man you knew wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if you even so much as messed up his coffee order.

Nothing felt real as your leg bounced with anxiety. Sure, you’d always been mouthy and stubborn, but the idea that those small flaws could have made you a target for him, it was almost too much to understand.

“Hello?” He called out and you turned your face to him. “Are you listening?”

“Sorry, I was thinking about… what I have to pack tonight.” You lied, to which it was obvious he didn’t believe you, but he ignored it anyway.

“I was saying, when we get there, I have a meeting with a few of my subordinates. I need you to stay and listen. Lyla will be recording the meeting, but you just need hear it and start understanding everything. It won’t be hard, but it might be a lot so pay attention, entiendes?” He spoke and you nodded. “Once the meeting is over, I’ll introduce you to Jess and she’ll give you a tour of the building and your office. You’ll be working a room over from me. While that’s going on, I have an appointment, and once that’s over, I’ll start explaining the rest of your work.” His words felt unreal, like you were having an outer body experience. Nothing could have prepared you for this and now you were thrown into his web with no way out. Was the universe playing some sick joke on you? Throw you into the arms of a cold blooded killer and laugh about it later?

The numbness in your bones began to settle in and you sighed inwardly.

This was going to be a long day.

Walking into a bustling lobby, your eyes were overwhelmed with an excitement you couldn’t help to feel. The smell of clean air, the crisp modern design, everything screamed class and high end. Almost as if this wasn’t a den of crime and murder. Who would let a kingpin rent such a beautiful and upscale building? And didn’t mafia bosses usually do business out of their homes or secret offices hidden behind a bookshelf?

Ok, maybe you watched too many movies…

No, this was the next level of an efficiently run business. Everyone looked focused and intelligent, some seeming like they were educated at an Ivy League college or politically invested.

You followed the largest man and watched as everyone parted to make way for him, scanning him and then dropping their gaze to you.

You, who looked so out of place and childlike next to the refined crowd.

Your name broke you from your trance and you bumped into Miguel, who was no longer walking. “Stop looking around like a lost puppy. I hired you because of your fire and bite, now bring her back or I’ll toss you back out of here on your ass.” His threat was obvious, and you puffed up your chest after he turned around.

He was somewhat right. You belonged here, you got here by accident and that had to count for something. Other people around you seemed like they wanted to be here, strived for their positions and fought to climb up the latter. Meanwhile, you didn’t even want your position and you got it because of your loud mouth. As much as you hated this all, you knew that some of the roughest and cruelest human beings stood in this building, but he decided to pick you.

“But we will need to buy you new clothes if you’re going to work here. I don’t want to see you in anything less than a thousand dollars. Is that clear?” He said as you two walked into the elevator.

“And where am I getting these thousands of dollars from? You got me fired.” You grumbled, annoyed at his arrogance and assumptions.

“I’ll have Lyla put it as a tax write-off and give you a company card. Your limit is fifty thousand, and you’ll only shop at places from a list she’ll give you.” He stared straight ahead as he spoke, barely even seeming like he was speaking to you. What a dick. You rolled your eyes and he glanced downward, a brow quirked upwards. “And save that attitude for the meeting. Everyone here is cut-throat, and you’re here to give them a humbling piece of your mind. I don’t do politically correct-ness. If you think it, say it. The only person you need to answer to is me, and I want you to give some of these sons of bitches a good verbal beat down. If they get out of line, I’ll give them something to really be scared of, so don’t hold back.” His words seemed to hold weight as the elevator doors opened once more and people separated like the Red Sea to let him and you through. Catching up to walk by his side instead of behind him, you kept a straight face and put your shoulders back.

Reaching your new office was exhilarating, seeing as you hated the situation, but began hating everything less and less. Miguel had been right about the meeting, ignoring what everyone else said as you sat and listened to him discuss plans for a new import deal and a possible new business venture. His words were sharp and sliced through everyone in the room, so there wasn’t much room for conversation as most of the people in the room didn’t want to pull the trigger and be the target. You nodded along and made mental notes, adding certain ideas to your cavalry and deciding between when to speak up or not to.

After that, he’d introduced you to Jess and Lyla, who both seemed too kind and cheery to be in this business. How could such funny and smiley women work for a man with so much blood on his hands?

Jess gave you a proper tour as Lyla followed and made snarky comments about certain people, places, and things. Often times, they were about Mr. O’Hara and every time, it made Jess snort with laughter. The three of you talked and laughed, even trading phone numbers with both of them. Lyla excused herself when she was summoned to the fourth floor for a call about a transport, and you and Jess finished the tour back at your office. She showed you briefly how to use your new computer and tablet, both of which had a schedule that you, Lyla, and Mr. O’Hara could see and edit.

“Alright, I have a gynecologist appointment in 30 minutes, so I’ll be gone for the rest of the day, but call me if you have any questions.” She waved and you gave her a goodbye before beginning to type up some of those mental notes from the meeting, sharing them with Miguel’s email to add him in and let him look.

An hour went by and you heard a ding on your tablet, signaling a private meeting in Miguel’s office that had started 20 minutes ago. You rushed, seeing as you didn’t get the notification earlier and now we’re late. Pushing open his office door, you blinked at the sight in front of you and gulped down a new feeling. Dread. Embarrassment. Pure fucking confusion and unshakable mortification.

A woman, thin and blonde, had her back to the door and was kneeling before Miguel. Hands on his thighs as he spread his legs, she bobbed her head up and down as he had both of his arms around the expanse of the couch, head back a bit in enjoyment.

The shock finally settled into humiliation and you felt your stomach lurch with anxiety. He must have heard you step backwards as his eyes opened to stare into yours, an unreadable expression on his face. You shifted your thighs, moving to take another step as your face burned with a blush that could rival most makeup brands. Eyes as wide as saucers, you kept eye contact with him to avoid watching the woman’s mouth move up and down his cock. And he didn’t dare look away either.

He slipped a hand from the back of the couch to her hair and shoved her head down a bit, making her gag, and as the sound reached your ears, you choked a bit in sympathy. He hissed out a soft ‘good girl’ and you felt drool pool on your tongue, closing your mouth before it could drip out. He fucked up into her mouth as his eyes stayed on yours and before you could register it, he was groaning with a tight jaw and finishing. She sputtered as he came down her throat and as the realization of what you’d walked in on had hit you, you’d spun on your heels and slammed the door shut behind you.

Hands shaky, you wobbled back to your own office and sat in your chair, hands holding up your head as if it were too heavy to stay upright on its own.

What the fuck is going on?

Prologue Chapter 2

#miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara smut #miguel fluff #atsv miguel

578 notes · View notes

heylittleriotact · 1 month ago

Text

𝐢 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐄𝐦𝐦𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐀𝐔

“If you’d like to bring in Mr. Kaminski’s clothing today, someone will be in until five… yes, I’ll be here till five too… oh, okay - go ahead…” Rook hit ‘print’ on the open Funeral Director Statement of Death document and adjusted the phone against her ear to hear better over the sound of the nearby printer coming to life.

Emmrich was standing in front of the raised ledge of her desk, tucking his business card into the inside cover of the folder that Rook was preparing that they gave to families during arrangements. It contained a number of helpful checklists and pamphlets containing grief counselling resources, estate administration assistance, urn catalogues, memorial jewelry offerings, and of course, the Funeral Director’s Statements of Death that were generally required by banks and businesses in order to close accounts on behalf of the deceased.

“Undergarments? Completely up to you, and not required. Many choose to provide socks and underwear for their loved ones because they were just part of what they normally wore day-to-day. There’s no need to go out and purchase new ones if you don’t want to.” Rook finished, listened, smiled. “Oh no, don’t worry - lots of people ask the same question. It’s not weird at all.” She quirked an eyebrow at Emmrich who looked amused as he stepped behind the desk and took the freshly printed stack of Statements of Death, returning to his side of the desk, and reaching under the overhang in front of Rook, feeling around for the desk seal.

“Okay, thank you, Glenn… see you before five. Take care.” Rook hung up the desk phone and started signing the Statements of Death that Emmrich had managed to seal while she was on the phone. “You guys do tell people during arrangements that it’s fine and completely normal to bring underwear for their loved ones, don’t you? Because I feel like people are constantly asking me that question.”

“We do,” Emmrich sighed, still smirking slightly. “But they tend to forget - much is discussed during arrangements and it can be overwhelming, given the circumstances.”

He handed Rook another stack of sealed Statements of Death and lifted his gaze to the window behind her. It was Saturday so there was only one administrator scheduled to work over the weekend, and it was Rook’s turn. Truth be told, he got the impression that she preferred her solitary weekends, even if it meant being a bit more strategic with her time management when things got busy. She seemed perfectly confident and capable, however, as she ran the office on her own, fielding calls from families, writing and submitting obituaries to the local paper, setting up and running identifications, and whatever else may come up - which in this profession could be nearly anything.

“It’s still snowing,” Emmrich observed before resuming his task of sealing the Statements of Death, slipping the bottom corner of a page between the plates of the seal and pressing down on the handle; withdrawing the paper, then doing the same with the next. “I could drive you home again, if you don’t feel like standing around in the snow?”

If he drove her home today, it would make it the third day in a row since the first day he managed to coax her into his car earlier in the week. He really didn’t mind doing it - even if it was very much out of his way. He did enjoy driving, and he knew that even though she hadn’t said as much, Rook appreciated getting home in half an hour instead of the usual hour-plus her regular commute stole from her day.

She had been much less combative the day before as well, which surprised Emmrich. She was still far from chatty, and remained somewhat guarded when he asked questions or made conversation, but she hadn’t called him a creep once yesterday, and that had to be some sort of progress.

“Um… oh. You don’t have to,” was her reply - he knew it would be.

“I know I don’t have to. I’m asking you.”

She didn’t like burdening people with herself, he’d discovered. She was stubbornly independent: a useful trait to have for one pursuing this calling - taking initiative was not something that could be taught.

“I… yeah, okay. I guess if it’s not any trouble for you. I know it’s really out of the way for you…”

This was word-for-word the exact same thing she’d said yesterday. It was like she was worried that because it wasn’t necessarily convenient for him, he was going to turn around and demand gas money for his troubles… or something else.

“No trouble at all,” he assured her, accepting the signed Funeral Director’s Statements of Death from her and slipping them into the folder.

“Alright then. That would be awesome. It’s still really shitty out there and weekend transit service means there’s even more time between buses, so it was gonna take me forever to get home and I’m going out tonight.” She set her pen down and updated the checklist she had open on the computer monitor on her right. “Thanks, Emmrich.”

And then she smiled. A real, genuine, proper smile - the kind she gave families.

He couldn’t help feeling like he’d won some long-fought battle. Unlocked some great secret that dwelled within the simplicity of the expression.

“Of course, Rook,” he tipped his head politely, and picked up the folder. The office administrators were supposed to bring them in and hand them to the funeral director so they could be introduced to the family as they would be working with them a fair bit in the coming days, but Emmrich always thought it felt rather archaic to accept the package from the obedient administrator and introduce her like she was the Girl Friday of the death-care profession: instead he just mentioned the administrator by name, and told the family that they would be in touch to assist in the coming days, and that they would physically at the chapel each day to assist, even if he wasn’t.

The doorbell chimed, indicating someone had just entered the front doors. Rook looked up at the chapel schedule displayed on the large monitor mounted on the wall and stood from the desk, smoothing the front of her skirt.

“I think that’s the Lawrence family here for Mr. Lawrence’s urn.” She breezed past Emmrich out into the foyer without another word. “Hello,” he heard her say to whoever was there in the same friendly, amiable tone she’d used on the phone.

He picked up the folder and returned to the arrangement office, still feeling like he had accomplished something.

He pulled into the garage, put the car in park, and set the parking brake before cutting the ignition. The interior lights blinked on when he opened the door to get out, but he paused when his eyes landed on a small, round object sitting on the passenger seat that hadn’t been there before.

Rook’s headphones. Oh dear.

They must have slipped out of her coat pocket without her noticing.

Emmrich picked up the smooth blue case and sighed, not quite sure what to do: he knew Rook was incredibly attached to her headphones - he’d seen her walk through the doors in the morning with them in her ears enough. Had seen her jam them in her ears as she walked out the doors at the end of her shift. She even had them in during her breaks, where she could be found in the staff room at the end of the table, eschewing conversation with co-workers in favour of her music as she tucked into her daily styrofoam bowl of instant noodles.

She’d be gutted when she discovered that she’d lost them…

He could drive them back over to her apartment, he supposed, but she’d mentioned that she was going out tonight, so she might be gone by the time he made it all the way across town again. Besides, he got the feeling that showing up unannounced in her lobby might net a negative reaction from the already defensive and guarded young woman.

At the very least he should tell her that she forgot them in his car, and they were safe and accounted for, and he’d return them to her in the morning.

Yes.

She couldn’t possibly take offense to that.

Of course she could, he reminded himself, closing the door and withdrawing his phone from his breast pocket and pulling up the shared internal company directory that included the personal home and cell numbers of every employee of McDermott & Rafferty. She’s not going to be pleased that I’m taking it upon myself to text her.

I could call her instead.

No… no that would be worse.

Or I could simply not say anything and just return her headphones in the morning without crossing a boundary and imposing myself on her evening.

But if I do that, she’ll be taking the bus into work in the morning without any music to listen to, and no idea where her headphones have gone. At the very least if I tell her she won’t have to worry, right?

His thumb hovered over her number on the spreadsheet as he continued to weigh the pros and cons of his intentions.

“‘Creepy dude’ indeed,” he admonished himself, copying the number and pasting it into the To: field of a new message.

‘Hello, Rook. This is Emmrich. I’m very sorry for the intrusion of your privacy: I got your number from the company directory. I just wanted to let you know that you left your headphones in my car in case you were looking for them and were worried you’d lost them. I’ll hold onto them tonight and give them back when I see you at work tomorrow. Take care. Emmrich.’

Not allowing himself to think about it and doubt himself any further, he hit Send, and with the affirmative and cheery ‘bwoop’ indicating the message had gone through, he tensed, waiting for the response that would surely be something along the lines of: ‘Wow. I let you drive me home three times and suddenly you think that’s an invitation to start texting me? God you’re so creepy.’

But no such response came.

No response came at all.

He stared at the message: the little footer under the bubble of text that said ‘Delivered - 6:46 PM’ stayed that way until 7:03 when he finally blackened the screen and pocketed the phone. It was entirely possible she had read receipts turned off and had read his message and was currently sending a screenshot of it to all of her friends with the accompanying text: ‘Look at what this horny old pervert from work just sent me - he thinks he’s being subtle’ punctuated by a number of emojis or something to that effect.

So be it - at least he’d done the right thing. If she chose to misinterpret that, it was her problem, not his.

He’d been nothing but courteous and professional in their dealings: it was hardly his fault if she perceived every kind word from another person as a threat. If anything it was rather sad.

He unlocked the garage door and entered the darkness of his townhouse, light flooding the entryway from the garage behind him as he was greeted with the pulsing trill of the alarm system telling him he had thirty seconds to disarm it, and the harmonized meows of Manfred as the bone-white cat emerged from the darkness, paws pitter-pattering over the hardwood as he looked up at Emmrich and began to regale him with the events of his day.

He keyed in the code to the alarm system and crouched down to scratch under Manfred’s chin.

“Hello Manfred. Did you have a good day?”

“Mraaaaow!” The feline responded brightly, rubbing his cheeks against Emmrich’s hand.

Emmrich beamed and straightened, his knees cracking audibly.

“Now let’s see what you’ve gotten into today, shall we?” He pocketed the headphones which were still in his other hand and flipped on the lights, thoroughly wiping his shoes on the mat before embarking down the hallway, Manfred trailing eagerly behind him, tail stuck straight up in the air, chattering merrily.

It didn’t take him long to find today’s target: a phone charging cable bitten cleanly in two, one half still plugged into the electrical outlet. Holding the severed portion of the cable, Emmrich regarded Manfred: his fur was indeed looking a little staticky, standing unusually upright and lending him a slightly demented look.

Emmrich was generally good at remembering to store unattended electrical cables away from Manfred, but he must have forgotten this one in his rush to leave that morning.

“You only have so many lives, you know, and this is far from the first time you’ve chewed through a live cable.”

“Mrrraow,” Manfred agreed, licking his lips and sitting on the floor in front of Emmrich, looking eminently pleased with himself.

Emmrich sighed and pulled the other end of the cable from the brick and disposed of the two pieces in the kitchen garbage, turning on more lights as he moved around the main floor of his home.

“I suppose you’d like to watch your stories, hm?”

Chirping affirmatively, Manfred leapt up onto the brown leather sectional in the living room and settled into the well-formed indentation where he usually sat.

Emmrich didn’t watch television: he found it an unproductive and uninspiring use of what little spare time he had. The sprawling, 70 inch, 4k UHD TV he had purchased solely for watching movies, as he considered himself to be somewhat of a cinephile, but tuning mindlessly into endless news segments and banal reality tv was boring.

Manfred, however, loved television - specifically 90s sitcoms. He wasn’t sure why - perhaps it was the canned laugh track - but Emmrich had unwittingly discovered years earlier that letting Manfred watch his shows was a reliable way to keep him occupied and distracted from his seemingly never-ending compulsion to kill himself via misadventure. He did set limits though: only an hour of television per day. It wasn’t good for people to watch too much television, so it only made sense in his mind that too much time in front of a screen wasn’t healthy for cats either.

He queued up an episode of Seinfeld for Manfred and scratched under his Italian leather collar before setting down the remote and returning to the kitchen.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and fished his phone out of the pocket, glancing at the screen to see if Rook had responded while he was seeing to Manfred - she hadn’t - and setting it on the counter alongside the headphones before washing his hands and trying to decide what he’d have for dinner.

While he waited for the frying pan to heat up and the pot of tomato soup he’d settled on to warm, he opened a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass - he wasn’t on call tonight, so he’d allow himself this rare indulgence. Something to calm his nerves was welcome anyway - he kept eyeing his phone, waiting for the screen to light up. It wasn’t like he’d done anything wrong by texting Rook, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had somehow gotten himself into trouble.

When the pan was hot, he dropped his cheese sandwich into it and picked up his glass, swirling the wine inside of it and resuming his vigil of staring at his phone.

It was 7:34 now.

Rook was constantly attached to that phone of hers even though Derek and management were borderline militant in enforcing their ‘no personal cell phones allowed’ policy during work hours - she and every other staff member under thirty-five had mastered the slick and nonchalant trick of palming their device and slipping it into the inside left pocket of their suit jacket with alarming elegance at a moment’s notice: they would be the envy of any street magician with such sleight of hand.

Knowing this, it struck Emmrich as unlikely that she hadn’t at least seen his message yet. What was taking her so long to respond? It was simple, wasn’t it? Just a plain, ‘Thank you for letting me know’ would suffice, surely?

He turned from the island back to the stove, flipped the cheese sandwich in the pan, and stirred the pot of soup. He had just set down the spoon on the spoon rest in the middle of the stove when he heard the ‘bzzzt-bzzzt’ of his phone vibrating against the granite countertop.

Snatching it up, he unlocked the screen and braced himself for Rook’s disgusted response.

Jaw clenching, he allowed his eyes to focus on the words in front of him.

‘At first I thought this was a really pathetic excuse to text me, but my headphones are actually missing and unless you managed to pickpocket me while you were driving, you must be telling the truth.’

Three dots popped up underneath the message, indicating she was typing something else. Then they went away.

Then they came back.

‘Thanks Emmrich.’

He stared at the pair of messages, reading them over and over, genuinely taken aback at the lack of vitriol in her words. Snarky, yes. Snide, certainly. But a far cry from the outright revulsion he had anticipated.

Perhaps she was finally warming up to him: they’d worked together for four months now, it only seemed natural that they build some semblance of rapport over time, regardless of her misplaced assertions that he was some sort of deviant.

Could it be that she was finally beginning to realize that he wasn’t panting after her like the weirdo she assumed he was, staring at her ass whenever she walked in front of him, and wondering what the tattoos that peeked out from under the cuffs of her shirt looked like? He’d never had such thoughts. Never once had he wondered how much of her skin they covered; whether they ran all the way up her pale arms and resolved at her shoulders, or if they curved across her collarbones, dipping down past the swell of her breasts, and–

The sound of the smoke alarm punctured his unintentional reverie, deflating it instantly as the bitter smell of burnt toast filled his nose and he slammed his phone down on the counter to deal with the urgent matter of his burning grilled cheese sandwich.

Manfred appeared around the corner of the island and meowed loudly, making his displeasure at this interruption of his ritual television hour inescapably clear.

Emmrich looked down at the blackened sandwich in the pan, then to Manfred, who was licking his lips hopefully.

“No, you may not have the sandwich,” he said sternly and dumped the ruined grilled cheese in the garbage. He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and turned off the element the tomato soup was on.

He reset the smoke alarm and paced over to the back door beyond the breakfast nook, wine in hand, pausing to grab the pack of cigarettes and the lighter he kept in the console table next to the patio door before stepping out into the cold and lighting up.

Rook Ingellvar was going to be his undoing at this rate.

He’d managed to salvage the remainder of the evening and resume his normal routine: he’d had his soup and just a plain cheese sandwich, poured another glass of wine, fed Manfred, had a long hot shower, and climbed into bed to settle in and read until he was ready to fall asleep.

Manfred was curled up on the bed at his feet, purring loudly - it wouldn’t last long. He would be up again in a few minutes to persistently smash his face against the edges of Emmrich’s book as he tried to read it, attempting to bully him into putting the book down in favour of petting him, which was clearly more important. Emmrich would eventually capitulate and do exactly that.

The antique analog alarm clock on his nightstand indicated that it was going on eleven o’clock, and Emmrich had just closed his book for the night and reached over to turn off the lamp when his phone lit up on the charging stand next to it, vibrating insistently to alert him to the incoming call.

Emmrich frowned: he was certain he wasn’t on call tonight - Lindsey Finch’s name had been listed as the overnight on call funeral director on the service schedule that day, and he certainly wasn’t expecting any calls from anyone… not at this hour.

He picked the phone up from the charger and frowned harder at the number on the call display: it wasn’t a number he’d saved in his contacts, so there was no name. It looked familiar, though, like he’d seen it recently…

His stomach twisted on itself. It couldn’t be. No. Why would she?

“...Hello?”

Loud, distorted music crashed through the earpiece of the phone. The bass was clear, but everything else was a muffled cacophony that he couldn’t make out. He could hear Rook’s voice, but couldn’t discern what she was saying: she was talking loudly - practically shouting. Then there was a male voice, equally unclear. Fabric shifted against the mic, making a harsh scratching noise that had Emmrich holding the phone a few inches away from his face.

“Hello?” He repeated, but received no response: she must have pocket-dialed him accidentally.

She was at a bar with live music by the sound of it. He heard her voice again. Managed to catch the words, “kinda hot” before the exceptionally loud band drowned out what she said next.

But he heard her laugh then, and it rather caught him off guard how different it was from her usual facetious, dry tone.

It was light and free and joyful.

He ended the call then, feeling ashamed: like he’d just intruded on something private that he was not welcome to. Judging by the brief snatches of conversation he’d overheard, she was clearly on a date, and if she’d known that he’d been eavesdropping - even accidentally - there was no doubt in his mind that he’d never hear the end of it.

Setting the phone back on the charger, he folded his glasses and set them down before he turned out the light and rolled onto his side, facing away from the nightstand so he wouldn’t be able to see the screen if it lit up again.

Lonely thoughts were no stranger to Emmrich in the silent hours of the night, but tonight for some reason, they felt heavier than ever.

Manfred woke him up a few hours later when he managed to find a way around the locking child-proofing tabs Emmrich had installed on his dresser, and began systematically pulling articles of clothing out from the top drawer, dropping them on the floor whilst having a loud conversation with himself.

“Manfred…” Emmrich grumbled sleepily, slipping out from under the covers and crossing the room, plucking the cat from the top of the dresser and ignoring his protests, setting him gently on the ground. “You’re far too clever for your own good.” He re-affixed the tab as best he could and stooped to stroke Manfred’s soft back before plodding back to bed. “Please let me sleep,” he entreated groggily, feeling Manfred’s weight join him on the mattress.

What time was it anyway? He could tell it was still dark beyond the blackout blinds over his window, but that meant little at this time of year.

His antique alarm clock wasn’t backlit, so he fumbled around in the dark until he felt the base of his charging stand. Following it upwards, he tapped his phone and squinted as his pupils adjusted to the sudden light.

3:40… ugh…

He had to be up in less than an hour anyway.

Resolving to get at least a bit more sleep, he was about to collapse back onto the mattress when something on the illuminated screen caught his eye.

A notification.

He pulled the phone from the stand and propped himself up on one elbow, finding his glasses with his other hand and shoving them onto his face.

It was a message from the same number that had called him earlier - Rook’s number.

3:34 AM read the timestamp - only a few minutes ago.

Blinking a few times and feeling suddenly much more awake, Emmrich keyed in his passcode and opened the message.

It was a picture of Rook - a selfie, he supposed - and she appeared to be home - or in someone’s home - judging by the fact that she was obviously in a bed, her long black hair cascading over a red pillowcase as she cheesed up at the camera. Her crimson lips were contorted in a picture perfect snarl that showed off her straight white teeth and she was holding up her fingers in a peace sign. She was clearly drunk: her gray eyes were glassy and unfocused, and her heavy black eyeliner was somewhat smudged.

‘thx again for looking after my headphones♥️’

Why was she texting him at this hour?

And why did she send him a picture of herself?

And why did she feel the need to thank him again?

He stared at the heart punctuating the message, turning question after question over in his mind as his own heart decided to behave like he was halfway through running a marathon.

His eyes were drawn to the lower half of the photo, and he couldn’t help but notice that the thin black tank top she was wearing was certainly more revealing than her uniform, confirming that her tattoos most definitely did not end at her shoulders.

He swallowed, his tongue feeling three sizes too big for his mouth.

She’d only just sent him this. There was a good chance she was still awake…

Dare he?

‘You’re welcome. E.’

He hit send.

The three dots heralding an incoming message popped up almost immediately, followed by Rook’s reply.

‘holy shit y r u even awake rn?’

He let out a short huff of laughter at this, gently pushing Manfred away, as he had finally been drawn by the light of Emmrich’s phone.

‘I could ask you the same question.’

‘because i just got home and need to eat something lol’

‘I see. I’d better leave you to it then.’

‘u didn’t answer my question: y r u awake?’

Emmrich glanced down at the purring ball of fur next to him that was trying desperately to nudge the phone out of his hands.

‘My cat woke me up.’

‘lmao u have a cat?! u don’t really seem like a pet person tbh’

‘He more or less adopted me, as it turns out.’

‘crazy’

The dots popped up again, then vanished.

‘anyway - i need to go to bed. c u in a few hours i guess lol’

‘Goodnight, Rook.’

He stared at his phone for a few more minutes, but no more messages appeared.

He scrolled back up to the picture she’d sent him. Despite the fact that she was clearly potted, she looked so… unbothered. There was an easy joy about her that she didn’t have during the day while she was working. Perhaps the date had gone well.

But… she mentioned that she was at home, so perhaps it hadn’t.

He didn’t know why, but he found himself hoping for the latter outcome.

His eyes drifted back to the shape of her plump, pert breasts, pressed together slightly due to the angle and position of her arms.

“That’s enough of that,” he chided himself, darkening the screen and forcing himself to set the phone down.

Deciding that he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, he got out of bed instead and started his morning early: he had breakfast, fed Manfred, and did his morning workout, trying to find stability in the comfort of his predictable routine.

As he stood under the nearly scalding water cascading from the showerhead above him, he took himself in hand and stroked - slowly, languidly at first, but before long he was jerking off in earnest, leaning into the dark granite tile of the wall as he breathed heavily, soft moans nearly drowned out by the rush of the water falling around him.

He couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t get the image of those perfect breasts from his mind. The shape of them. The way they looked pressed together in that picture. The crisp black lines of the mirrored serpents and roses that spread from the front of her shoulders down towards the neckline of that skimpy top. He was filled with the treacherous desire to trace the lines of those tattoos with his fingers… his tongue…

A strangled cry pulled from his lips, and he came hard, his seed spilling forth, one steady pulse after another. It fell to the floor, and dripped down his hand into the drain below.

Guilt slammed into him before he even finished cumming, ashamed of himself as he watched the last of his release vanish with the water.

It had been quite some time since he’d had a romantic partner, but he worked with this young woman… taught one of the courses she was enrolled in at the university. They were colleagues - professionals - and here he was, fantasizing about her body while he jacked off like the pervert she so frequently accused him of being… proving that she was right all along.

And worst of all, he was going to have to look her in the eyes later that morning and pretend that he hadn’t brought himself to orgasm hours earlier while thinking about her.

“You’ve really done it now, Volkarin…” he sighed, raking his fingers through his wet hair and shutting off the water.

It was very rare for Emmrich to have a cigarette before he went to work.

He had one that morning.

#emmrook #emmrich x rook #emmrook modern au #modern au #funeral home au #emmrich romance #emmrich smut #emmrich volkarin #emmrich #dragon age emmrich #this is an emmrich thirst post #rook is a bratty mall goth #dragon age #datv #dragon age the veilguard #dragon age fan fic #dragon age fan fiction #v writes #ao3

28 notes · View notes