#i have no idea what the prompts for each day are lmao.

[darkdragon768]

He blew it up because he felt attacked on his pride and not, like, revenging his bro or something. Nooo, he would never do that!

Anyway, happy Halloween everybody!

[oneforthemunny]

how you like them apples |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you surprise eddie with his favorite fall treat, and, oh, is he surprised.

since i'm feeling so fall, i decided to write a ficlet around my love cowboy!eddie. also follows the lore that sweet girl is not the best cook lmao. super fluffy. genuinely nothing but the sweetest fluff and love.

Your head turned at the rumble of the truck, moving slowly down the gravel driveway towards the house. Eddie always drove much slower than you, always on to you about speeding down the gravel, flinging it everywhere. 

The red truck’s bed was filled with lumber, left over from the recent renovations the Ives’ family had done to their new fence, just up the road- well, that’s what Eddie always said, it was more like a good ten miles away. Irvine Ives had called Eddie up last night, asked him if he wanted it before he took it to the junkyard. He knew Eddie was repairing a patch in the fence a Bronco he was training had kicked out. 

“Back so soon?” You grinned, pressing a hand over your brows to shield you from the September sun. Not as bright as it was in June, but still unforgiving in the middle of the day. 

“Yep, wasn’t much, but I think I got what I needed.” Eddie hummed, turning the key and killing the ignition, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “Think I got enough to patch it though. Just gonna need to repaint it since it’s not the same kinda wood.” 

Your brows raised, walking over towards the driver’s side, leaning in towards the window. “I can help you with that.” You hummed, breathing in the cloud of smoke he exhaled with a content sigh. “I love to paint.” 

Eddie grinned back at you, a soft crease in his dimples that made your body buzz with excitement. “Yeah? We can go to town tomorrow if I get this done. Pick out a color.” 

“That sounds like fun.” You beam. “I was going to say we need to go to the grocery anyways, so that works out.” You hum, a large brown bag catching your attention, nestled beside Eddie in the passenger seat. 

“What’s that?” You ask, leaning on the door to see. “Apples?” 

“Yeah, Mrs. Ives insisted I take a few. Said their trees were overflowin’ with ‘em.” Eddie nodded towards the bag, lightly tapping your hand to move, opening the truck’s door. “Figure I’d give a few to Medusa. Try to do something with the rest, maybe.” 

You nodded slowly, wheels in your mind already spinning with an idea. Eddie handed you the apples, cradling the bottom until you got your grip on the heavy bag. “‘M gonna go start on this. Try to get it done today.” 

“Ok,” You hummed, hugging the apples to your chest. “Have fun, baby.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter, head ducking down, stealing a quick kiss from you. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He looked back at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion as you simply nodded, pulling the screen door open and slipping in the kitchen. 

Normally, you’d offer to come help him, sit with him and talk about nothing in particular, and hand him the tools while he worked. Not this time. You didn’t seem mad, or upset- really, you seemed perfectly happy. Which left him a little suspicious. 

The clanging of a large, steel pot falling on the floor soothed his worries, left him grinning to himself in humor as he started off to the barn. 

“Sift? What does- like move it around?” You muttered, brows pinched in concentration that was teetering on annoyance. Your eyes squinted in concentration, trying to decipher the loopy, old school cursive on the faded, yellowed recipe card in front of you. 

The first time you found the recipe box, it was buried under piles of other things, lost in the mess that was Eddie’s bachelor pad before you moved in- really, before you were in his life. His Mamaw Munson’s recipes, all her best dishes, all in one tin box. He sat in the kitchen with you between his legs, he’d poured over each one, told you which ones were his favorite, sometimes even added a little anecdote that had you beaming with joy. 

“Oh, this one was one of my favorites, baby,” Eddie had said, eyes lighting as they scanned over the card. 

“Apple Cobbler. She’d bake it in this cast iron skillet so it’d stay hot, and we’d put vanilla ice cream over it- holy shit, it was so good.” Eddie swallowed his drool, he could practically taste it still. “She used to have an apple tree before it got blown away by this bad tornado one year. But she’d go and pick them every fall when they were ripe, and she’d always make it for us. It was my favorite thing.” 

Looking at the recipe in front of you, you could see why Eddie loved it so much. It did sound really good. 

It was just very complicated. 

“Take your peeled- shit,” You looked at the sliced apples, still with the skin on, in the bowl in front of you. “Why wouldn’t you say that before I added the other stuff, Mamaw?” You huffed, pulling the drawer open for the whittling knife. 

The kitchen was a disaster, sticky and flour filled, bowls piling high in the sink; and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through the recipe. Grabbing a handful of the butter and sugar rolled apples, you placed them on the counter’s free space, carefully carving around the edge where the skin was. 

This isn’t too bad, not taking as long as I thought it would, You thought to yourself, finally in a grove of cutting around the skin, tossing the apple back in the mixture. 

A smoky, sugary, thick smell alerted your senses on your last few apples. Turning, you saw the filling that was supposed to be simmering, now bubbling with thick, burnt globs in the pot. You grabbed the handle with a panic, shoving it to the free stove eye, turning the hot one off. 

The mixture, which was supposed to be a light caramel brown, was a deep dark molasses shade. You lifted the whisk, cringing at the toughness of the gooey substance. “It’s ok,” You shook your head lightly, looking at the clock. “That’s- whatever. It’ll bake and soften in the oven.” 

Pulling out the pan, you shoved the now skinless apples to the bottom, scraping the hardened filling mixture on top. The wooden spoon nearly broke trying to mix it in, sticking out of the cemented filling. 

You could see Eddie through the small window over the sink, down to the last stake in the fence, already beginning the wiring. He’d be done soon, this had to cook for forty-five minutes, and the kitchen was a disaster. 

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine.” You muttered to yourself, pouring the batter on top, not bothering to smooth it out like the instructions said- there was no time for that Mamaw. Instead, you slid it in the oven, turning the timer. 

Eddie came in just as you’d finished putting your last dish away. Your body surged with excited heat, smug that you might actually get away with your little surprise- well, as long as he didn’t go to the back porch, where the burnt filling was in the pan, cemented in. 

“Mm,” Eddie sniffed the air, sugary and a little… smoky? “Smells good in here, baby.” He gave you a dazzling smile, hoping you wouldn’t pick up the hesitancy in his tone. 

It was no secret that you weren’t exactly the best cook. Not that Eddie cared, but after you almost burnt the house down making lasagna, he was a little weary when you’d cook. 

“Does it?” Your eyes lit up, filled with excitement that he wouldn’t dare take from you. Whatever you’d made, no matter how charred or inedible it was, he’d scarf it down with a grin if it’d make you happy. Even if it gave him food poisoning like the chicken ala king did. 

“Yeah, what’re you makin’?” Eddie reached for the oven’s handle. 

You pushed it closed with a click of your tongue, smacking his hands away. “Don’t.” You shook your head. “It’s a surprise.” 

And you were true to your word. It certainly was a surprise. 

When you placed the concoction in front of Eddie, grinning so big, so proudly, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but grin back. “Wow, you, uh, you made this for me, sweetheart?” He smiled, eyeing the plate in front of him. 

“Yes,” You giggled, topping the runny dough on top with a scoop of ice cream. “You said it was your favorite, and when you brought the apples home, I just thought I’d surprise you.” You chirped, sliding him a spoon. “I followed your Mamaw’s recipe.”

“You spoil me, sweet thing. You know that?” Eddie smiled, heart swelling at the sentiment. You really did spoil him, were too good and too sweet to him- even if you’re cooking wasn’t as good. 

“Try it.” You sat next to him, bursting with excitement. “I know it won’t be as good as hers, but I think I did a good job on it.” 

Eddie looked down at the plate, swallowing the dread building in his throat. He dug his spoon, sawing it through the thick middle until it finally came out in a clean cut. Taking a large scoop of ice cream, hoping it would mask the flavor, he took a bite. 

“Is it good?” You leaned forward, eyes rounded in hopefulness, scanning his features eagerly. 

Eddie hummed, his teeth cemented together from the filling, sure his crown might pop out from the material. The filling was tough, the dough undercooked and lacked something that made it rise, but the apples were delicious- just like his Mamaw’s except…

“Oh,” Eddie winced before he could help it, finger digging in his mouth. He pulled out the hard thing that was wedged in his molar, turning it with a brow raised. “Is that- is that a seed?” 

Your face fell, looking at the seed back at Eddie. “Well, yeah, from the apples.” You said, heart skinning in your chest. “I didn’t- it didn’t say to take them out or anything, so I just left them in.”

Eddie swallowed, stomach turning lightly at the bite. “No, it’s- I mean, it’s good, baby. Some people take them out, but- no, this is, it’s really good.” He nodded, smiling at you gently. “‘S really good.” 

“Really?” You squeaked. “Better than the muffins?” 

“Yes,” Eddie said truthfully, whole heartedly. That was the truth, this was so much better than the mess that was the blueberry muffins. “So much better. This is really good, sweetheart. You really surprised me. Too sweet of ya to do this.” 

You squealed, hugging him tightly, legs straddling his waist in the chair, lips pressing kisses over his cheeks, his chin, his lips. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, squeezing you into him, playfully nipping at your jaw to hear you squeal, before his lips caught yours, pulling you into a heated kiss. He’d eat all your burnt cobblers if it meant you’d be happy like this, if it made you this happy. 

[aayakashii]

ooh i did mean the second one, but if you have ideas about the first one i would love to hear your thoughts too~

- soulmate anon

OKAY SOULMATE ANON I HAVE YOUR HEADCANONS HERE!!!!! I used this list to write these down and while I have an explanation for some, others I went purely with the vibe but I hope you like it!!

soulmate headcanons

Kamurai Jin

"One soulmate owns a lock and the other owns the key to that lock."

I feel like it's fitting for him to have such a traditional romantic item like a locket. A cold man whose heart can only open with a literal key that only his soulmate has – this is a thing of fairytales. He has always been the king, but he is the one who needs to be found and saved by someone who can actually burrow their way into his heart and show him the love that he so desperately yearns for.

Ishibashi Tohma

"You have this unlimited stack of sticky notes. Write whatever you want on it, and that note would magically appear somewhere in your soulmate’s line of sight during that day."

I literally just think it's adorable! He's such a busy man and it'd be so cute for his soulmate to send him random sticky notes throughout the day, showing him support and telling him they love him. He'd keep them all in a box even if there are dozens of them per day.

Lucas Errant

"You can feel a tug from wherever your soulmate is. These may either be automatic, or have stronger tugs whenever your soulmate is in distress."

Can you imagine how worried sick Luca would feel whenever he felt a tug in his heart? As soon as he finally found his soulmate, he'd give them the tightest, most relieved hug because now he can always be by their side and protect them from anything. No more tugs, no more distress. He can finally be their knight.

Fuji Kaito

"Your eyes are your soulmate’s hair color, changes when they dye it."

I chose this one for him because: it's canon that he dyes his hair. Can you imagine all the times his soulmate’s eyes have changed color as he dyed his hair? Slowly fading from yellow back into brown as his roots grow, or changing the tone of yellow if he changes the brand of hair dye and all that... What if Kaito goes through a emotional crisis and changes to a completely random color too? That could be either fun or unnerving lol

Mido Alan

"People have a tendency to experience whatever emotions their soulmate have pent up inside them."

Alan deserves someone who completely understand his emotions. Someone who knows how to place their hand on his shoulders and kiss his cheek whenever they feel a pit of anxiety grow in his chest. His soulmate would understand his emotions, even when he can't understand them himself.

Kurosagi Leo

"Everybody has some type of tablet thing that's a shared space you and your soulmate can draw on."

Leo's soulmate needs to be well acquainted with his moods and his brattiness. Communicating with each other through little doodles and words before meeting each other seems like the perfect way to get used to him. And it'd be a nice way to get at him, to say that his doodles are awful lmao

Haizono Sho

"Everyone receives a special accessory (hat, watch, necklace, bracelet, etc) that is exactly alike with their soulmate. Many people, when they meet their soulmate, like to swap theirs with the other."

Oh, Sho strikes me as someone who would love to have matching accessories with his s/o. What if his soulmate has a bandana just like his? Or maybe an earring? He'd waste no time in asking them to swap items, feeling comforted by the physical presence of something that assures him that he's loved by his soulmate.

Sagara Haru

Each person has a spirit animal that can lead you to your soulmate."

That's very simple. Since Haru takes such good care of his animals, it's only fair that one of them could lead him to his soulmate. The prompt says spirit animal, but I imagine it with a tangible animal. Little Peekaboo tugging him towards some random place out of nowhere, and Haru just following suit because he can't say no to his baby. Little does he know, he'd find a lot more than he expected.

Otonashi Towa

"A red string tied around your pinky is connected to your soulmate’s pinky (when the two of you are in a certain distance)."

What better way for Towa to find his beloved soulmate than the most cliché and run down soulmate trope of all times? I think Towa would love a cliché though. He'd love the racing heart, the butterflies in his tummy, the fireworks in his head. He would tangle himself in that red thread if he could.

Shiranami Ren

"There’s this special video game where your partner is your soulmate. You only get to meet if the two of you finish the game."

That just sounds to me like the only way Ren would be motivated enough to find his soulmate lmao maybe he'd carry them or maybe he'd be carried, but, either way, it'd ensure that there'd be less awkwardness between Ren and them. Bonding online, to him, probably comes quicker and easier, and it'd be less painful to him to transition his online relationship to a irl one.

Hoshibami Taiga

"When you meet your soulmate for the first time, you get a flashback/relive their entire lives."

I imagined this would be fitting for him, because it'd allow his soulmate to actually know and understand the things he did during his life. They could be someone he could trust to know what went on in his past when he can't remember. He'd place a lot of trust in their hands and I feel like, to Taiga, trust must be as important and rare as love.

Romeo S. Lucci

"Everyone wears a mask. You get to finally take it off when you meet the one with your identical mask, your soulmate."

I think that this man already wears a metaphorical mask every single day, always thinking of how to act in order to get what he wants, and that's what I thought of once I read this. His soulmate would be the one person with whom he could let his guard down, actually relax and be himself. The only one he wouldn't be scared of slipping through his fingers, because, well, they're his soulmate. It's a bind that goes beyond any material desire.

Shinjo Ritsu

"Have the same tics at the same time (verbal tics, drumming fingers, humming, etc)."

This one I chose because I genuinely headcanon that Ritsu is autistic lol Not only would he be able to quickly pick on the fact that his soulmate stims the same way as him, he'd probably feel extremely comforted by the fact that they wouldn't judge him for his little quirks. Even if everyone says he's annoying, he knows that the only person that matters understands him.

Kagami Subaru

"Legend says that if you fold a certain amount of paper into cranes (or anything really), you can meet your soulmate."

Our resident anxious king. I thought of him creating the habit of making a certain origami every time he felt too nervous, like a comforting stim that would keep his mind off of whatever plagued him and keep his hands busy. Maybe he knows that folding a new crane would get him closer to his soulmate, and that's why it comforts him, or maybe he doesn't know at all. Still, it is something that fits his personality, imo.

Kusanagi Haku

"If you send off a paper airplane, it shall reach (or move in the direction of) your soulmate."

I think Haku deserves something simple and that he can (mostly) control. If his soulmate never found him, he could still go check on them whenever he wanted. And if they did find him, even better! Nothing too complicated for him. He already has too many complicated things on his plate.

(Still, he would always keep an eye at the sky surrounding him, patiently waiting for a paper airplane to finally gently poke him on his nose).

Kotodama Zenji

"Songs sung by your soulmate is stuck in your head."

Can you imagine being his soulmate and having a biwa concert going on in your head at all times. Would probably make his soulmate go crazy, but could also be extremely endearing because, I mean, it's Zenji. No one can ever be mad at him. He's the sweetest (and would be 100% stoked that his soulmate would hear all his creations no matter where they were).

Edward Hart

"Everyone holds a locket with their soulmate's picture, but it can only open when certain conditions are met"

Something about an old, powerful being cradling a small locket their whole life, waiting for the day it would open, and finally feeling the rush of relief and adrenaline once the little locket opens for the first time. Or maybe having the locket open and close through multiple lifetimes as he finds his soulmate over and over again.

Mizuki Rui

"You stop aging at a certain age, until you meet your soulmate and grow old together."

I chose this one literally because I think Rui deserves to have a soulmate with whom he'll live for the rest of his life – something that's guaranteed to happen, even if it takes a while. But it's okay because he'll literally have all the time in the world until he finds the one with whom he can grow old and live happy.

Lyca Colt

"Your soulmate leaves coloured footprints only visible to you."

In this world, maybe Lyca would see colors in the same way canines do – just a spectrum of blue and green tones. But then, once he finally got close to his soulmate, their footprints would light up his world in many more colors, and he would be amazed by it no matter how many times he saw it, like someone seeing a rainbow for the first time.

Isami Yuri

"Everyone gets little books of what people think about their soulmate (but never said out loud)."

Yuri would be OBSESSED about knowing what his soulmate says about him on their book. Do they like him? Do they think he's smart and cool and powerful? Maybe he'd try to find his soulmate just to know what is written about him, but then he would be caught off guard by how he slowly stops caring about that so much – maybe the person themself is the one that actually matters.

Kirisaki Jiro

"Get the same injuries as your soulmate does."

In his case, since he's always fighting some very rough battles, I think it'd be better for his soulmate to get the same scars as his.

They'd wake up, and suddenly, there would be another marking on their chest or arms. What the hell is their soulmate doing that they get so many injuries after all? It'd be tough to miss him in a crowd. After all, who else would have star-like scars on their chest just like them? Maybe Jiro wouldn't even know about the soulmate marking since a new scar would be hard to notice. Once they explain it all to him, he'd take it in stride, like always. He may even feel an unknown pang of guilt after he finds out about it. Maybe.

[thought--bubble]

Forgive Me

OsferthX Damsel Reader

Word Count: 1,671

For the 12 days of smuffmas (Prompts by @ewanmitchellcrumbs)

December 16th - fireplace and face fucking (Probably just going to stay a day behind. lmao)

Smuffmas Masterlist

Osferth Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: Mentions of violence, arranged marriage, Oral Male receiving (obvs), Face fucking (Obvs)

“Take her and go!” Uhtred shoves Osferth toward you, the clanking of swords and the smell of blood swirling around you in flashes.

You were not built for this.

“Come,  lady!” Osferth wraps his hand around yours, tugging you toward the woods. One hand is in yours, and the other is holding a sword you weren't quite sure he knew how to use.

“The monk?! They left me with the monk?” You squeeze his hand tighter. You had nothing against Osferth; you just enjoyed life and all of its infinite mysteries, and to that end, you would have preferred to be guarded by Sihtric or Finan.

Of all the moments in your life thus far where being a woman was inconvenient, this had to be right at the top of the list: running through the muddy woods in a flowing gown and shoes that were more like slippers.

This morning, the outfit seemed like a good idea. You were being transferred from your home to that of your betrothed, a marriage that was important for both the Saxons and Scots. So, Uhtred and his friends were tasked with taking you there.

The travels had been simple thus far. You rode your horse surrounded by the men, with Finan being the only one who would talk to you. Uhtred and Sihtric were at the front, making strategic plans to get you there as quickly as possible, and Osferth trailed behind, blushing furiously anytime you looked back to make sure he was still with you.

All that changed quickly when you were ambushed by what you believed were Danes. So instead, you are running - running as fast as your legs will carry you, holding hands with the shy monk.

“Where do we go?” you ask him, panic rising in your chest. Surely he has a plan.

“Um... forward!” he huffs, jerking your arm along behind him. “We are not far from a village. We were to stop there to rest overnight.”

You nod, panting heavily, willing your legs to continue. Just keep going. Just keep moving. He'll keep you alive, right?

When he feels like you've made it far enough away from the fray, he finally relents, letting go of your hand and leaning against a tree to pant, taking in large gulps of air.

You follow suit but fall to your knees. “I am not sure I can continue,” you whimper, each breath hurting your lungs.

“I will carry you if I must, but if I am being honest, lady, I do not wish to,” he continues to pant, looking at you pleadingly.

You stand back up, still breathing heavily but able to start moving again. “Are you insinuating that I am too heavy to carry?”

His face reddens, and he immediately starts to stutter. “Wha? No! No! No, lady, that is not at all-”

“I am teasing you, Osferth,” you sigh with a big smile on your face, watching a flustered Osferth attempt to regain his composure.

“Forward? I believe that is what you said?” You start to walk, leaving Osferth confused and staring behind you before he leaps into action. It only takes his long legs two strides to catch up to you, and you both fall into a comfortable silence as you walk toward your destination.

When you finally reach the small village, you feel relieved and exhausted. You see Osferth speaking animatedly with the innkeeper but stand far enough away that you can't hear the exact conversation. However, from the immensely annoyed face of the innkeeper and the desperate expression on Osferth, you can surmise it isn't good.

When Osferth returns to you, he stares steadily at the ground. “Lady, follow me.”

You follow him quietly up the stairs but can't help but laugh. “Why do you look as if you are walking to the gallows?”

“Please forgive me, but I did not have enough for two rooms.” He reaches the room and pushes open the door. “We will have to share until the others join us.”

“And sharing with me, is that what has you looking so down?” You walk past him into the room and flop down on the bed. It isn't ladylike, but you're so exhausted you don't care.

“Yes,” he states matter-of-factly. You lift your head and raise an eyebrow at him.

“I see.” An awkward silence claims the room, and after a few minutes tick by, Osferth seems to have understood your sentiment.

“Lady, I did not mean that sharing with you is... umm... uhhh... unpleasant by any means.” He twiddles his thumbs in his robes, his eyes moving back and forth furiously as he tries to say the right thing.

You know exactly what he meant, but it is fun to see him squirm nonetheless. “Just that it is... umm... improper?” he shrugs.

“Do you think that if left alone in this room with you, I will suddenly become ravenous for you?” You sit up. “Shedding my clothes and pouncing on you, handing my purity over to you just like that?”

Osferth's eyes go wide, and he mumbles what should be words but instead produces an assortment of primitive sounds before he gives up.

“I will sleep on the floor. By the fire,” he turns quickly, putting his back to you and kindling the fireplace, muttering to himself—no doubt chastising himself for his poor choice of words.

Once the fire is lit, he lays down flat on the hard floor, his hands under his head, and squeezes his eyes tightly closed.

“Would you like a blanket?”

“No.”

“A pillow, perhaps?”

“No.”

“A-” He cuts you off.

“If it is all the same to you, Lady, I feel we should sleep.”

You nod and lay back. “Of course.”

The room goes quiet again, the crackling of the fireplace the only perceivable sound.

Your heart beats loudly in your chest. Each thump of the stubborn muscle pushes sleep further and further away.

You get out of bed and pad your way over to Osferth, who is still lying on the ground, eyes closed.

“I think you were right, Osferth.” His eyes fly open, and he looks up at you, standing over him.

“Right?” He chokes out, confusion etched across his beautiful features.

“Being in this room with you...” You kneel down and push his legs apart, settling between them. “I think I may have suddenly become ravenous for you.” You push up his robes to his beltline. You know exactly what you want to do to him. You've never done it, of course, but you've heard the other ladies talking about it. It can't be that hard.

You make quick work of the laces that hold his breeches closed and tug them down gently.

“Lady! What are you doing?” He looks down at you, slightly panicked, but makes no move to stop you.

“I owe you my life, do I not?” You cup his cock over his breeches, feeling him tighten underneath.

“Lady, you do not owe me this,” Osferth pants, unable to hide the desire in his voice.

“What if I want to?” You start to slide his breeches down his legs slowly until they reach his thighs, his rapidly hardening cock springing free.

His cock stands thick and heavy, the glistening tip betraying his arousal. Unsure how to proceed, you take him into your hand and begin to stroke slowly and softly.

Osferth takes a shuddering breath, his hips undulating with each movement. He curls his hands at his sides, fingernails digging slightly into the floorboards.

“Lady, I-” he grunts as you increase the tempo of your strokes, panting at his every reaction.

He bites his bottom lip, stifling a moan, sweat beading on his brow as he uses every ounce of strength he possesses to keep his hands to himself.

You lean forward and take the weeping head of his cock into your mouth, the salty taste bursting across your taste buds.

Osferth's head falls back in a loud groan as you bob your head along his shaft the way you believe it is supposed to be done, based on what you heard from the other ladies.

You can see Osferth's stomach muscles clench on his lower abdomen, his fingers now clawing at the floorboards beneath him.

As you slide your mouth up and down his cock in a slow, sensual motion, he gasps.

“I apologize, my lady,” he pants suddenly. As soon as you go to lift your head to see what he means, his hands tangle in your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts up into your face like a man starved.

He grunts loudly, nearly yanking your hair from your head, the tip of his cock battering the back of your throat.

Osferth pushes his breeches down to his ankles, kicking them off one leg.

“Almost done, promise,” he groans, lifting his knees, spreading his legs around you, pushing the back of your head, causing your nose to be buried among the light curls there. You sputter and gag as he groans, his grip in your hair tightening as he thrusts his hips unabated. A copious amount of your drool puddles on his balls and even the wooden floor beneath him as his thrusts grow quicker, plowing through the entrance to your throat like a ramrod.

Osferth snarls like a dog as you gag and grip at his thighs, trying to ground yourself.

“AHHHH! Forgive me!” He stills, his entire body tense before he explodes in your mouth, the foreign sensation making you somehow swallow and gag at the same time.

He falls back against the floor, releasing your head and panting harshly, his hand resting on his stomach.

You sit up, your head dizzy and your face covered in a mix of your saliva and his release.

“That was not what the ladies described,” you finally huff out, still looking at Osferth in a daze.

“This is why I ask for my daily penance,  lady,” he pants between labored breaths, a smile on his face.

[moonlit-imagines]

No One’s Sidekick

Jason Todd x teen!reader

warnings: needles and guns and death mentions ya know

a/n: ok i was gonna do headcanons for this but honestly it sparked a lot of inspiration so im actually writing a oneshot for it this is a ONE IN A MILLION CHANCE bc im very picky about when to write oneshots ily. might do hcs also just cuz arkham knight is my passion. (honestly i should have just done hcs idk if i like where i went with this LMAO)

prompt: anonymous: “hi idk if you write Arkham Jason Todd but if if you do is it possible if you can do a Arkham Jason Todd x fem teen reader and reader is his sidekick”

Imagine a life where you had nothing, you were the lowest anyone could go, and you were just a kid. Now imagine that there was someone standing in front of you, telling that same story, and offering you a chance to turn it all around because they knew how it felt to be you.

That someone was Jason Todd. You found each other by chance, somewhere in the Gotham slums. He walked past you down a dimly lit alley full of used needles and rotting trash, noticing a kid just a few years younger hiding from the world. You noticed a guy in a hoodie hiding a nasty scar on his cheek.

He reached out a hand, hoping you’d take it. He saw a look in your eyes that you’d been like this a while. And you might have noticed the same in his. Which is why after trusting nobody for years, you took this stranger’s hand. “I remember when I was a kid waiting in shitty places woth the hope someday it’d change. And it did one day. Someone found me and changed my life.” He explained after buying you a burger and fries.

“Was it for the better?” You asked him with a mouthful of food.

“I don’t know anymore.” He looked shaken himself, and you could tell by the bags under his eyes this may have been a subject that kept him up at night, maybe took up his waking moments, too. “How long have you been alone?”

“Practically forever. Every once in a while I felt like I was on steady ground and then…something always happens.” You sighed, taking a sip of your soda. “But I learned how to get by on my own. I had to. And I have to protect myself.” Jason raised a brow.

“You protect yourself yet you’re willing to go off with a stranger?” He asked, giving you a warm smile.

“Jason, right?” He nodded at the question. “Jason Todd?” His expression dropped. Before he could stammer out a response, you leaned back on your side of the booth and said, “everyone around here knows you one way or another, but everyone thought you were dead after you disappeared.”

“Did you know who I was when you came here with me?” Jason spoke lowly.

“Nope.” You flatly responded. “But I figured it out along the way. You used to live in my building when I was a kid, I knew I recognized you from somewhere.”

“3B?” He asked.

“That’s the one. You remember?” You smiled.

“I remember a scared little kid with dirt all over their face no matter what time of day.” You both chuckled. “Wow, it’s been a long time. I guess I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“It’s nice. I just don’t know where to go from here.” You took the last few bites from your meal, averting your eyes from his gaze, nervous for what was to come, but also hopeful. At this point, you didn’t care what you did or where you went, as long as you had some kind of purpose. Spending your youth in sleeping in wet boxes or crashing on a sunken-in, stained couch was no longer something you could stand doing.

“I had an idea. A while ago. But I just didn’t know how to go about it.” He revealed with a long pause, mustering up better details to share. “I dont know. It sounds crazy, but maybe not anymore.”

“Can you get to the point?” You tilted your head, eager for a bit more.

“Yeah, yeah…” He gulped. “I talked to this guy, it was after some really bad shit went down,” he brushed his scarred cheek, “this high-profile assassin wanted to train me—work with me. There are some demons I have to face, but I need some help to get ready.” You stared blankly for a minute, fingernail scratching the tabletop as you thought about his words. “It’s out of the country, somewhere in South America.”

“You’re crazy.” You stated. “I’m in.” Jason’s eyes widened. “Anything to get me out of Gotham. And you’re Jason Todd, I’d trust you with my life, even after all this time.” His expression softened and he kind of chuckled, in disbelief of you and himself.

“I—I guess I gotta go make a call.” Jason knocked his hand on the table. “Go ahead and order dessert, I’ll be back in a few.” He stepped out the front door and opened his phone, scrolling down to a contact labeled “S. Wilson.” It rang twice. “I’m in, and one more will be joining us.”

“I’ll make the arrangements for your travels, stay on the line.” Said Slade, there were faint keyboard clicks. “I have a private jet that awaits you at eight a.m. tomorrow. I will send you the address, don’t be late.” The phonecall ended abruptly and Jason went back to your table, finding you eating a slice of pie.

“Tomorrow morning we get to fly in a private jet.” Jason saw your face light up. “Never been?”

—————

Venezuela was incredible to you, even if it was a bit more humid than you were used to. On the plane ride, Jason told you everything. He didn’t spare one detail, he didn’t care. You were another Gotham City orphan with a dark past and a bright future. You two were ready for anything.

It was grueling. It was incredible. It was nothing you’d experienced before. Which was terrifying. But invigorating. You could tell Jason felt right back in his element, but you were desperately trying to catch up. He’d had much training before this, relevant to the current situation. You’re training went as far as standard Gotham Slums scuffling. Your skills included switchblade maneuvers, aiming for the crotch, running from trouble and climbing from trouble. Nothing like this ever seemed possible for you. But Jason knew what it felt like to be brought from your level to his. And as Deathstroke brought Jason to his level, he’d make sure you’d catch up.

—————

“I think you two are ready.” Slade announced as both of you stood before him. Straight backs, eyes forward, and arms behind your backs. “The plan is to be enacted soon, and you,” he turned his attention to Jason, “it’s up to you what we do from here. Gotham City finally meets its match?” He suggested. Jason nodded his head once and you followed. And so it began, the planning phase.

—————

You looked at Gotham from down below. Smaller than you remembered. The whirring of the helicopter blades lulled you away from reality for a few moments before Jason tapped you, motioning for you to come up front with him. You slid your headset on and heard him begin barking orders at the militia before setting your comms to private. “How’s it feel?” Jason asked you.

“I don’t know, actually.” You replied, doing a final check to make sure your guns were loaded and secured. “What about you?”

“It feels like I’m finally getting my revenge.” His voice modulator sent a chill down your spine and you soon landed in Gotham. The plan went off without a hitch. Gotham evacuated, scum running loose, Batman distracted, and his allies scattered. It was exciting, but something was off. Scarecrow’s plan didn’t sit well with you. It was gruesome, even to you. You never really cared about anyone but yourself, but as Jason lost his humanity, you gained it. “I’ve got your back, y/n. You got mine?”

“Always, Knight.” He chuckled as the chopper began to descend. “Let’s kill the Batman.”

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @deanzboyfriend //

[lilasamaaa]

A lapse in judgement | Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre | Angst (of course), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff.

Word count | 3.8K

Warnings | Mention of sexual activities, rejection.

Summary | The long-awaited dinner with your in-laws doesn't go as planned... Will you and your boyfriend manage to change their minds about your relationship?

Author's note | I'm back, bitches! This lovely prompt was requested, thank you for the idea Anon! I hope you all like it, please let me know what you think! ✨ (not proofread lmao)

Being the new girlfriend after the one who got away fucking sucks. Even when your lover was the one to end things. It's quite something to be the girl after the one he was supposed to spend his life with. Get married with. Have kids with. You wouldn't wish anyone to be in your place. Yet, here you are, all because you fell in love with him. Carlos Sainz. Him and his doe eyes. His impeccable hair. His charming smile. Frankly, you didn't stand a chance.

You knew who he was, of course. Formula 1 is among your fondest childhood memories, sitting in front of the TV with your siblings and parents. Each Grand Prix was a household event, and you could never bring yourself to part with the Ferrari-colored jacket you wore every race Sunday. It's been years since you've fit into it, but the memory is too precious. So, yes, you knew who he was. And you recognized him immediately when he walked through the door of your workplace, sunglasses perched on his nose.

You don't follow Formula 1 as closely as before. Just enough to keep up with the news. You don't pretend not to know who he is. What's the point in pretending?

"Back from Monza already?" you ask, wiping your hands on a clean towel.

He smiles. A polite smile, but one that seems to indicate he's not keen on chatting. Or at least, not about that. You ask him what he'd like, and he asks for anything with soy milk in it. He orders two, to go, and you smile again. Okay, you think. Understood. The exchange lasts no more than two minutes, and soon, the driver exits the coffee shop, leaving behind a lingering woody scent.

Weeks pass without crossing paths with him again, and honestly, the encounter has completely slipped your mind. That one early morning, though, you're sitting at one of the café tables, contemplating new drinks, new recipes to implement based on some customer feedback, when the little bell chimes behind you. You definitely need to stop leaving the door open to let the floor dry after your morning cleaning session.

You turn around, ready to inform the friendly customer that the café doesn't open for another twenty minutes, when you catch his gaze.

"I know you're not open yet," he starts, putting both hands in front of him. "I saw the sign. But I really need some coffee, and all the other shops are closed."

"I suppose I can make an exception for such an emergency," you say as you rise from your seat, smiling kindly at him. "What can I get you?"

"I don't remember the name of what you made for me last time, but it was incredible. There was..."

"Soy milk?"

"Yeah."

"I'm on it," you say, turning around. "Two?" you ask, feeling like you already know the answer.

"Yes, please."

You hurry behind the bar, preparing the two coffees, and you place them in front of him a few seconds later. He takes out his phone to pay and places it on the terminal, which emits a soft "beep." Then, he picks up one of the coffees before sliding the second one towards you.

"This one's for you," he says, and you barely manage to hide your surprise.

"Oh," you say. "If I had known, I wouldn't have charged you for the second one."

"But it wouldn't have been the same, then. I wouldn't have offered it to you," the driver says, winking at you before taking a step back. "Thank you so much for the favor. Have a good day!"

With that, he's gone. As you sip your hot coffee slowly, you wonder when you'll see him again next time. But already, your employees arrive and pull you from your thoughts.

"That guy outside kinda looked like Carlos Sainz, no?" Lucia, one of them, asks while tying her apron.

"You've seen him? I thought so, too," you reply with a smile.

The next time you see him is the exact opposite. You've just bid your last employee a good evening, and you're putting the chairs up on the tables in preparation for the morning cleanup. A knock on the storefront makes you look up, and you smile when you see him. You open the door, and he slips inside, slightly damp from the light rain falling outside.

"Have you ever heard of opening hours?" you ask while wiping down the countertop.

"Can't say I have," he replies with a grin, the sight making your stomach flutter.

"I think congratulations are in order," you begin, throwing the towel over your shoulder. "That was a clean win in Singapore."

"Thank you. It might be a bit late for a coffee, but would you like to grab a drink with me?"

The proposition takes you by surprise.

"Like? Right now?"

"Yeah. Right now. I know a place not far from here."

"Aren't you afraid of being seen or something?" you ask, arching a brow.

"Never with beautiful women, no."

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. You've been living in Spain for ten years, yet you don't think you'll ever get used to the natural flirty nature of its inhabitants.

"Give me ten minutes to change and close up, and I'll join you," you say, while he nods, sitting on one of the bar stools.

Carlos takes you to a dancing bar, obviously run by friends since he spends five minutes shaking hands and greeting everyone as you enter. He leads you to the back of the bar, to a secluded corner where the music is much quieter, and you can actually have a conversation. You have no idea what to say. Where do you even start with a Formula 1 driver? Someone whose life is so different, so far removed from yours. Sensing your discomfort, Carlos takes the lead, asking you questions about your café, (Did you open it by yourself?) and about your life. (Where are you from? You have an accent).

The evening passes, and the drinks flow until you find yourselves tightly pressed together on the dance floor. Your back against his chest. His hands on your hips. Yours on his neck. Swaying to the rhythm of the music, all senses heightened. His lips don't take long to seek yours, and from the wall of the bar against which he pins you, you transition to his mattress, his warm body pressed against yours.

You don't sleep much that night. You don't know if you'll ever have the chance to see him again. To have him like that again. So, you lavish your lips on his, your body against his. And in the early morning, as you wake up entangled in each other's arms, and you almost expect him to kick you out... He climbs back on top of you instead, pressing warm kisses against your mouth, your collarbones, your navel... You arrive at the café thirty minutes late, with bags under your eyes. It's never happened before, and your employees are so surprised that none of them even think to joke about your poor state.

You don't hear a word from him for the next ten days. Occasionally, you glance at the app you downloaded, which informs you about upcoming races. You know he's in Qatar. You try not to let the little voice in your head win. The one that laughs at you. That tells you that you'll never see him again. He's working, you think. He's busy. Your life goes on, though you can't help but watch for him early in the morning and late at night, your eyes lingering on the storefront.

Then, one day, he comes back. Right in the middle of the shift. Seeing him walk into the café, Lucia lets out a scream and drops the cup she was holding. "Dios mio," she says, clutching her heart. Several seated customers turn around, but nobody seems to pay attention to the tall brunette with caramel eyes whose gaze is fixated on you, from across the counter.

"Soy milk?" you ask, trying to contain your smile.

"Yes, please. Only one."

And then, he starts coming every day. Every day he's not on the other side of the world, that is. By his seventh visit, Lucia can almost serve him his coffee without spilling any, her hands shaking so much.

Outside of the café, the two of you slowly start going to museums. To restaurants. To the cinema. But there's one place you both prefer. His bed. You spend hours there, exploring each other's bodies or talking about everything and nothing. Exchanging thousands of kisses or sharing your worst childhood embarrassments. Moaning against each other or talking about your very first pet. And one evening, as you were recounting how your respective parents had met, he asks you the question.

"Speaking of that, would you like to meet them?"

Your heart skips a beat. It's been six months since you've been seeing each other. Since you've been exclusive. Since you've been a couple, in reality, even if neither of you has dared to say the word. That one, and the other. The one that starts with an L. Even though you know you do... And you sense he does too.

"I don't know," you say, resting your head against his bare chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Have you talked to your family about us?"

"Of course," Carlos says, pressing a kiss to your head. "They know I've been seing someone. And they know it's serious."

"Do they even want to meet me?"

"They haven't asked, if that's your question," your boyfriend replies. "But they never have, with anyone. They know it's something I like to do at my own pace."

You nod, and a few minutes later, the fateful dinner is set for the following Saturday. Already, the ball of anxiety that has lodged itself in your stomach grows. And soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of the door of the imposing Sainz mansion, your throat tight and your hand sweaty in Carlos'.

"Relax," the driver says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before stroking your thumb. "They're not that bad."

Carlos knocks on the door, and a young woman opens it before jumping into your boyfriend's arms. You recognize her instantly from the pictures in Carlos' phone. Blanca. As if pronouncing her name in your head had reminded her of your existence, Blanca turns her head, smiling politely in your direction.

"Nice to meet you," she says rather blankly before gesturing for you two to come inside.

You encounter his other sister, Ana, in the hallway a few seconds later. She isn't much warmer, not even offering a smile and simply saying "Welcome" before rushing to hug her brother. The reception from the two women surprises you a little, and doesn't really help you feel confident about the evening. Carlos doesn't seem phased by the situation, helping you out of your coat before guiding you to the living room where the two young women have already disappeared. You're about to walk through the door when your eyes stop on a series of frames hung across from the front door. Your heart skips a beat. Feeling you come to a halt, Carlos stops as well, following your gaze.

"Fucking hell," your boyfriend says before taking the frame off the wall and placing it upside down on the buffet below. "I'm sorry. This photo has been there for so long that they probably don't even notice it anymore," he adds, his tone apologetic.

You know he's trying to reassure you, but his words have the opposite effect. You've briefly talked about your exes. Well, more about his. Isa. The girl he was with for seven fucking years. The one his parents loved so much. Seeing a photo of them together right before meeting your in-laws is like a knife to the heart. A reminder that you're the new girl. The one replacing her. You muster a smile that you know is fake at Carlos before continuing on your way. As you arrive in the living room, his two parents stand up from the couch, rushing to their son to hug him.

The embraces last a few seconds, until they turn to you. You greet them politely, handing his mother a huge bouquet of flowers and his father a bottle of fine wine, as they thank you with strained smiles.

"I also brought chocolates from my shop for you," you continue, turning to his sisters sitting at the dining table. "They're from a small producer in Andalusia, a real treat..."

"How kind of you," Blanca says dryly.

You miss the glance that Carlos shoots his sister, behind you. A stern look. One that scream "be careful". One Blanca pretends not to see.

"Let's sit down," Carlos' mother announces, gesturing for everyone to take a seat.

Intimidated, you stick close to Carlos, sitting next to him. The table is beautiful, adorned with fine porcelain and various flowers. You smile as you spot silver napkin rings and pick up the one in front of you. Your next breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes land on the letters engraved in the metal. Isabel.

"Ah yes, sorry," Ana begins, following your gaze. "We didn't have time to make a new one. I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine," you say, looking up and smiling at her.

"So, dear, what do you do?" Carlos' father asks. "Carlos told us about a café, but we didn't quite understand."

"I opened my own café a few years ago. We also serve fresh pastries that I bake every morning. It's really taking off; I have several employees now, and I'm planning to open a second one soon..."

"Did you study culinary arts?" her mother asks.

"Uh, no, I don't have any degree," you reply with a nervous laugh. "School just wasn't my thing."

Ana and Blanca exchange a glance, and you lower your head, feeling your cheeks flush. You feel Carlos' hand on your thigh, and you cast him a grateful glance, which he doesn't see, his eyes fixed on his sisters.

"And so, the two of you met at the café, is that right?" his father resumes.

"Yes, that's right," you reply with a smile. "In May, the first time."

"In May?" Ana asks, looking at her brother. "Weren't you still with Isa?"

"Are we gonna mention her all night?" Carlos snaps.

"It's just a question, no need to get upset," Ana replies, rolling her eyes.

"Did you know who he was?" Blanca asks, holding your gaze.

"Uh, yeah, I recognized him. But I served him like any other customer," you recount.

"It must be weird," Ana continues, as your attention turns from her sister to her. "To see a celebrity walk into your little café."

"It's actually not so little," Carlos says. "It's pretty well-known in Madrid. Lots of customers."

"Never been," Blanca says curtly.

Carlos's mother gestures for her daughters to follow her, and the three women disappear in the kitchen before returning a few minutes later with their hands full of various dishes.

"Carlos told us you love to eat," his mother continues, giving you a genuine smile. "It's good that he didn't choose a very slender girl, for once," she adds, as you tilt your head. Was that supposed to be a compliment?

"What are your plans after the café?" Carlos' father asks, chewing on a piece of chicken. "Now that this first project has worked out?"

"I beg your pardon?" you ask, genuinely confused.

"What are you going to do with your life now?" Ana asks.

"Well... I'm going to keep running the café? It's my sanctuary, my biggest project. I'm so proud of it, I'm not going to give it all up now."

"Oh," his father replies, eyeing you. "I'd understood it was temporary. That you were a kind of investor."

"No," you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up again. "That's... That's what I do."

The silence falls over the table, punctuated by the clinking of utensils. After a short while, Carlos's mother clears her throat, meeting your gaze.

"Forgive our questions. We're curious to get to know the person Carlos shares his life with. You have to understand, after seven years... You always know what you've lost, but you can never know what you've gained."

"And that was quite a loss," Blanca chimes in, sipping on her wine.

"You can't trust anyone these days. You never know if they love you for you or for your wallet," Ana states, looking at her perfectly manicured nails.

"Or your contact list," Blanca adds, shooting a glance your way.

"Okay," Carlos suddenly says, throwing his napkin on the table before getting up. "That's enough. We're leaving."

"What?" you say, looking up at him.

"They're clearly not ready for this. We'll come back when they finally understand that my ex is just that - my ex. Get your things, love."

You stand up, feeling your legs tremble, as Carlos' hand find the small of your back, pushing you towards the hallway.

"Don't be ridiculous," his mother says, standing up as well. "You can't expect us to forget seven years just like that."

"I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to respect my partner. But apparently, that's too difficult."

A few seconds later, Carlos is backing out of his parents' driveway, one arm around your seat, his gaze fixed on the rear window. In the passenger seat, you fidget with your fingers, staring at your hands and biting your lip nervously. His brows are furrowed. Jaw clenched. None of you exchange a word until you hit the main road, headlights from passing cars casting shadows on your faces.

"I'm so sorry," he finally says, stroking your thigh. "If I had known..."

"You couldn't," you reply, placing your hand on his. "I don't blame them. Seven years is no small thing."

Turning his head, his gaze meets yours.

"I won't pretend that those seven years didn't matter to me, that they meant nothing. Even though I don't have any romantic feelings for her anymore, she will always be a part of me in some way," he says, as you feel your heart tighten in your chest. "But she no longer occupies my thoughts. She's no longer imprinted under my eyelids. It's not her fingers that give me chills, her voice that makes my heart race. All day long, I think about you. I talk about you. Even at night, I dream of you. You're right beside me, so close, and yet it's not enough. You still find a way to get closer, to flow through my veins, to infiltrate every breath, every heartbeat."

"Sometimes I wish I could see myself through your eyes. That girl sounds exceptional," you say, laughing as you wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes."

"She's quite something," he replies, eyes on the road. "I can't wait for them to realize."

After the disastrous first encounter with your in-laws, over six months pass before Carlos comes join you on the terrace of your shared hotel room in Jeddah, placing a coffee in front of you. Bending down to sit beside you, the pilot winces, a hand on his stomach.

"Are you okay?" you ask, running your hand through his hair.

"I feel so fucking sick," your boyfriend says, a painful grimace on his face.

"Shouldn't you see a doctor, babe?" you ask, stroking his arm. "You look awfully pale. And you haven't eaten since yesterday morning."

"I can't keep anything down," Carlos replies, throwing his head back before closing his eyes.

"Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro," you start, earning a small grin from your boyfriend.

"I just love when you call me that."

"There's no way you're getting in that car tomorrow," you insist.

You didn't think you'd be so right. Well, not to this extent. Hurrying through the corridors of the hospital, two large aluminum trays in each hand, you dodge doctors and nurses along the way, weaving through visitors until you reach the door marked with the number you're looking for. You knock on the door, slipping inside before turning around to close it behind you.

"I wasn't sure what you'd prefer, so I got both," you begin, still facing the door, handle in hand. "The paella was quite easy to find, but I admit I had to cross the entire city for..." your sentence dies in your throat when, turning around, your eyes meet those of your mother-in-law. Then your father-in-law's. And your two sisters-in-law, crowded in Carlos' small hospital room.

"Oh," you utter, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you'd be there. I'll leave you alone," you start, turning around once again.

"No! Stay," Carlos' mother says, rising to take the trays from you.

"We're really happy to see you again," his father says, rising as well to embrace you. "Carlos was telling us how well you took care of him. Thank you so much for being there."

"That's the least I could do," you reply, feeling intimidated. "He would have done the same for me."

"I may love you, but I'm not sure I would have slept in that armchair. Or changed your blood-soaked bandage," Carlos replies, eyes half-closed, still under the influence of anesthesia.

"You did what?" Blanca asks, turning to look at you, eyes wide.

"Well, his nurse was busy and it started leaking," you shrug.

"You slept here?" his father asks.

"They wouldn't let me at first, but I didn't feel like leaving him alone in a foreign hospital."

"She annoyed the staff so much they just gave up on throwing her out," your boyfriend lets out in a laugh.

"I didn't annoy anybody," you reply quickly, fearing what his family might think.

"You threatened an intern to tie yourself to the chair."

"I didn't do that," you half-laugh, shooting your boyfriend a warning look.

Seated on the side of Carlos' bed, bickering with your boyfriend while running your hand through his hair in a loving gesture, you don't see the glance exchanged between the Sainz family.

"We were thinking about something, before you arrived..." Ana begins, her eyes finding yours. For the first time, you're not met with her harsh, cold gaze, but with gentle eyes. "We have a family house in Mallorca. We thought it would be nice to all go there together, so Carlos can recover in peace. We would be very happy if you joined us."

"It'll be a chance for us to get to know you. And to apologize for our pathetic behavior last time."

"Carlos chose you," his mother starts, smiling warmly at you. "And we all understand why."

You could cry with happiness at the thought of finally being accepted, being welcomed into the family of the person you've shared your life with for almost a year now. At no longer being the new girl. The one after the love of his life.

At the though of maybe, simply being the one.

The real one, this time.

[lincolndjarin]

constructive criticisms

main masterlist ✧ kinktober masterlist ✦

kinktober : day two - afab!ficauthor!reader x javier peña

prompt : virginity loss [ 18+ mdni ]

word count : 5.1 k

summary : javier peña has been a thorn in your side for months, the last thing you need is for him to find out you write dirty fanfiction

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, protected sex, p in v sex, oral m!recieving, fingering, mutual masturbation, viginity loss (duh), innocence kink sorta, squirting, reader is completely clueless when it comes to sex, javier is a dumb sweetheart in this, plot w a little porn lol

a/n : yippee! this is an idea ive had floating around for a bit and this seemed like a good opportunity to do it! easily the longest of the kinktober stuff lmao which is why i didnt want this to be day one cause i didnt want to set a precedent haha. also i hate this but it's october so like i can't do much about that lmao. AND the edit was rushed bc i gotta get to work so apologies for any errors!!

  “What’s that?” You slam your laptop shut the moment you hear his voice. 

“Nothing.” You hadn’t heard him come into your office yet here he is, looming over your shoulder. 

“Didn’t look like nothing.” You can’t stand the mocking smile on his face. 

“Did you need something?” You do your best to sound patient. 

“I’ve got some suspect photos I need you to identify.” He’s still grinning from ear to ear as you hold your hand out for the file. You flip through the pictures before tossing them onto the pile of paperwork you’ve been trudging through. You’re waiting for him to leave but he just stays in place behind you until you spin around in your chair. 

“Is there something else?” You cross your arms in front of your chest, glowering at him. 

“What were you working on?” For god's sake, drop it. 

“Get out of my office Peña, or I won’t process your suspects.” Thankfully that gets him to leave, sighing as he closes the door behind him. Once you’re sure he’s not coming back you open your laptop again, quickly closing out your tabs. 

The last thing you need is for Javier fucking Peña to read your Star Wars fanfiction. 

He makes your life hell around the office enough as is. He makes fun of how you dress, he only ever asks you to file his paperwork, (despite the dozen others who are just as capable.) and you’re pretty sure he stole your lunch one time. He’s just in general a nuisance. (And it doesn’t help that he’s gorgeous and knows it.)

It’s not like you’re ashamed of your writing, you’ve mentioned it in passing to some of your friends around the office but Javier is different. He gives you enough grief without knowing how badly you wanna fuck Anakin Skywalker, you can’t imagine how much worse thing would get if he found you’re writing. 

So you get back to work, trying to forget the interaction entirely. 

You like to work late on fridays, it makes things easier, you don’t have to come in early on monday and no ones around to bother you while you work. You’re just about done with everything as you gather up all the finished documents, going from empty office to empty office as you leave the respective papers on each person's desk. 

You’re nearly done, you’ve just got Javier’s suspect list to deal with as you step into the bullpen to deliver it you’re surprised to see him still sitting at his desk, everyone else is gone, only his desk lamp and computer monitor light the large room. You approach quietly, wanting to get this done as quickly as possible so you can just go home. You’re about to clear your throat to get his attention when you freeze in place. 

You recognize the website he’s on. 

You’d know that red bar anywhere. 

There’s no fucking way. 

You feel your face getting flushed, a deep shame settling in your stomach as you take another step forward just to be sure.

Archive of Our Own beta

And just below that, the name of your favorite song, but more importantly, the title of your fanfiction. 

You’re so fucked. 

You feel a mess of angry tears starting to pool in your eyes as you hear him groan. 

That somehow hurts worse. 

Not only is he reading it, but he also thinks it’s so bad he’s audibly expressing it. You’re livid, and humiliated, you should spend this weekend looking for a new job because he’s about to become insufferable. Knowing him, everyone will know about it before you even get in on monday.

In your rage you walk forward noisily, tossing his files down onto his desk, turning, planning on glaring at him once before leaving, hoping he doesn’t see how truly upset you are. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you’re met with. You’re expecting a smirk or maybe even a look of disgust, instead he’s gritting his teeth, his hair sticking to his forehead, a visible sheen of sweat on his face and most prominently, his hand haphazardly shoved down the front of his pants. 

You both realize the predicament you’re caught in at the same time. You stare way too long. Eyes lingering on the exposed skin where his shirt rides up, a trail of hair running down his naval. Neither one of you moves until you finally snap out of it, squeezing your eyes shut and turning on your heel, walking as quickly as possible towards the exit when you hear the squeak of his chair on the floor as he calls out your name. You don’t dare turn around though, not slowing your pace until you’re out of the building and in your car. 

Thankfully he doesn’t pursue you further as you drive home as quickly as possible. Hands tightly gripping the wheel the entire time. You can see your phone blowing up in your bag, the inside dimly lit the entire length of the drive. When you pull into your apartment building’s parking lot. You grab your bag and hurry inside, desperate to just go to bed and forget everything that just happened, ignoring the throbbing between your legs from what you just witnessed. 

You step inside your studio, locking up behind you as you toss your bag onto the bed, shedding your clothes and stepping into the bathroom, praying that a cold shower will clear your head. 

It doesn’t. 

You feel just as hot and frazzled as you did before. Maybe he was just trying to mess with you. If that’s the case then now he’s just sexually harassing you. 

Stupid fucking Peña. 

You pull a tank top over your head and throw on a pair of panties before collapsing on your bed. You don’t want to look but you won’t be able to sleep if you don’t, so you reach into your bag, retrieving your phone. 

Just as suspected you have an endless amount of messages from the man himself. You're about to start scrolling through them all when you read the most recent one. 

[ I’m coming over. ] 

Son of a bitch. 

You quickly scroll through the previous messages. 

[ I’m sorry, are you okay? ]

[ Call me or I’m coming over. ]

[ Please just text me back. ]

[ I really liked your story. ]

[ I’m sorry. ]

There’s about a hundred similar messages but one stands out to you more than anything else. 

He liked your story. 

Why does that make your face burn up?

You start typing, telling him that he doesn’t want to find out what’s gonna happen if he shows up but you’re interrupted by a knock on your door. You trip over yourself as you rush to your dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants before peering through the peephole. 

Sure enough, there he stands, he looks exactly like you’d left him, shirt untucked and askew, hair a mess, except now his hand isn’t in his pants. You’re about to reach over and turn your lamp off when he clears his throat. 

“I know you’re in there, your car was out front.” Well, so much for pretending you aren’t home. You hesitantly unlock the door before pulling it open, plastering a scowl on your face. 

“What do you want?” You try to look stern but you know you probably just look nervous. 

“I just wanna talk.”

You’re hesitant but you open the door fully, letting him in as you return to your bed, sitting and pointing at the loveseat in the corner for him. Neither one of you speaks, you watch as his throat bobs, he won’t look at you, staring at his hands instead. 

“How did you get my address?” You finally break the silence. 

“Your file.” He says sheepishly. 

“You can’t do that! That’s an invasion of my privacy!”

“That’s what you wanna be mad about?” Fair enough. 

“Fine, why did you do it?” You don’t like that he’s here, in your tiny apartment, the memory of him splayed out in his chair takes up all the space.

“Which part?” He finally looks up at you, meeting your gaze. 

“Why did you read it?” 

“I was curious.” He looks truly apologetic, it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Really?” Your tone drips with sarcasm. 

“You seemed really defensive, I wanted to see why.” It seems genuine but you know better. 

“You wanted to embarrass me.” You say plainly. 

“Why do you act like I’m out to get you?” His brows furrow and his mouth settles into a frown. 

“Because you are.” You say it matter of factly, you honestly can’t believe he’s acting like he doesn’t know. 

“I don’t understand what I did that makes you hate me so much.” You’re tempted to soften your gaze, but the last thing you need to do if this is all just some trick is appear vulnerable. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Please, enlighten me.” He throws his hands up in exasperation. 

“You despise me! You torment me every single day!”

“Really? I torment you?” He points an accusatory finger in your direction. 

“You make me do your paperwork every single time, even when there are plenty of other people who are capable of it.” You feel the urge to stand and have this argument, you’re getting heated in several ways now. 

“You do it better than everyone else.” He shrugs like it’s a valid excuse. 

“Bullshit.” You snark as he puts his head in his hands.

“And I like the excuse to see you.” He mumbles before looking back up at him.

“You make fun of how I dress.” You’re quick to change the subject, not wanting to fall victim to his charms. 

“I do not.” His voice pitches up defensively. 

“You said I dress like your grandma.”

“That was a compliment.” He can’t be serious.

“How the fuck is that a compliment?”

“I love my grandma very much.” He sounds serious. 

“You’re a nightmare.” You fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, your head swimming with confusion. 

“Have you ever considered that I just wanted to be around you? You assume that I just liked to bother you but maybe I just like being near you.” He stands as you sit up, a look of honest upset on his face. 

“You expect me to believe that you did those things because you like me? Are we in middle school, Peña? You could have just asked me out instead of pulling my pigtails on the playground.” You stand, not liking the power imbalance of having him towering over you where you sit. 

“I did, you said no.” He crosses his arms and you scoff. 

“You did not, you can’t just make things up to get out of this conversation.” You poke a finger into his chest but he just brushes it away. 

“I asked you out to lunch two weeks ago and you said no.”

“I think I would remember that if it happened.” His anger fizzles out a bit as he looks you up and down. 

“I may or may not have thrown your lunch out that day so you’d be more likely to accept.” He gives you a sheepish look. “But you were so mad you brushed it off.”

“That was a serious offer? I thought you were messing with me.” He just stares at you, wide puppy dog eyes you have to turn away from lest you fall for this act. You don’t get a moment's rest though because as you stare at the floor a particularly harrowing thought crosses your mind. 

“How much did you read?” You turn back to him quickly. 

“Enough.” When you turn back to him he’s staring at his hands again. 

You both know what that means. 

“It seemed a little familiar.” He says softly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You want him out, now.

“Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m talking about.” You’re going to look at job listings once he goes home. 

“I think you should leave.” You clear your throat, nodding towards the door. 

“I’m not leaving until we talk about it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You sit back down on your bed, your legs feeling unsteady. 

“Well I do.” He takes a few steps in your direction and you immediately regret sitting. 

“I don’t care what you want, get out of my apartment, now.” You head is tilted up completely as you glare at him.

“Do you really not realize exactly what is happening here?” You can feel his breath on your face, cigarettes and spearmint. You turn your head to the side, refusing to look at him. 

This is exactly what happens in your story. 

“You’re an idiot.” You whisper, willing yourself not to get any more upset than you already are. 

“You wrote your story about us.” He says each word sharply as you grit your teeth. 

“I did not.” Now who’s just making things up to get out of a conversation?

“Everything that I did to you, he does to her.”

You don’t have a response to that. What are you supposed to say? He’s right, straight down to the confrontation where he tells her he wants her and she tells him that can’t be possible. He hates her. 

He kneels in front of the bed, moving to be in your eye line and when you go to turn your head he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“I really did like your story.” You shove his hand away as he says it.

“Don’t mock me.” 

“Jesus, what do I have to do to make you realize I don’t have an ounce of contempt for you?” He stands, throwing his hands up in defeat.

You finally snap. 

“Maybe stop taking my shit and stop giving me extra work and stop invading my privacy and just fucking talk to me like an adult, you arrogant, immature, son of a-“ He grabs your face in both of his hands as he leans down and crashes his lips against yours, you let out a surprised squeak as he cups your jaw. After a moment he pulls back and you’re left staring at him dumbfounded. 

“Now, can we please talk about it?” He mumbles before pulling you in again for a single chaste kiss. 

“Okay.” You feel a little breathless at the abruptness of his actions. 

“I really liked it.” He smiles now, the energy in the room changing drastically. 

“You keep saying that.” You whisper.

“It’s true.”

“Wanna give me some constructive criticism?” You laugh but you can see his eyes flicker to the ceiling quickly and suddenly you want to press further. 

“You know you quoted me word for word a couple of times.” 

“You’re avoiding the question.” You laugh again but now you’re genuinely curious. 

“I guess I thought the sex scenes were the tiniest bit unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?” You feign offense. 

“Well yeah I mean, it’s written like you’ve never had sex. They go at it all night and he never needs any breaks? And doesn’t she have like twenty orgasms? I’m pretty sure she’d be in terrible pain at that point.” He laughs softly but when you furrow your brows he stops. “I assumed because it’s fantasy that that’s intentional though.” He adds on quickly at the end. 

Your embarrassment is clear on your face as his own expression goes to one of poorly concealed surprise. 

“You’ve never-” He whispers, clearly shocked. 

“I’ve never.” You finish his sentence, not wanting to hear it out loud. 

“I mean, that’s fine.” His ears are burning red. 

“I know it’s fine.” You mumble. “I’ve had opportunities to, I just… I don’t know, I guess I made it too big of a deal in my mind and now I just don’t care but I’ve waited this long and-”

“Cariña, it’s fine.” He interrupts you now, that soft smile on his face never wavering. 

“Do you think my writing would be better if I had more experience?” You say it like it’s a joke but he sees right through you.  

“I’m not sure, how much experience do you have just in general?” He stands, moving to sit beside you on the bed. 

“Well I’ve kissed people before.”

“That’s it?” You glare at him and he coughs nervously. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.”

“I’ve been busy with work, it's just, it’s never been a priority of mine.”

“You do know… how to do it? Right?” You smack him on the arm. 

“Of course I know how to do it, you read my stuff.”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Oh come on, you said it was good!” 

“It is good! Everything but the dirty stuff is really good!” You groan, putting your head in your hands, he sits quietly beside you for a bit, rubbing your back. 

“Do you want me to teach you?” He says lightheartedly. 

“Seriously?” You glare at him. 

“It’s the least I can do for unintentionally making your work life hell.” He’s starting to sound more genuine in his over, it sends a chill down your spine. 

“So what? We just… do it?” You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the idea of losing it to someone who knows what he’s doing. 

“No we don’t ‘just do it.’ we do other stuff first.” He sounds amused but you’re glad he doesn’t outright laugh at you. 

“Can you just- can you just tell me what to do?” You rest your head on his shoulder briefly and he runs his fingers through your hair. 

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes please.” You mumble, feeling a strange mix of aroused and nervous. 

“Well, in one of the later chapters she blows him, right?” You nod slowly. “And you say it’s her first time doing it, she probably shouldn’t have been able to just take all of him in her mouth right off the get go, especially since he’s apparently nine inches? Which is a whole separate issue by the way.” You can feel your face getting hot all over again as he explains everything like it’s obvious. “If you want to start there we can do that.” He murmurs, trying to meet your gaze but you just keep trying to look anywhere else. 

“How big is it supposed to be normally?” You chew on your lip, hoping you don’t sound stupid, you couldn’t be more thankful when he once again doesn’t laugh. 

“It depends, but nine inches is a bit outlandish. Have you ever actually looked at that on a ruler? It’s way bigger than you think.” He holds out the estimated size with his hands and you have to stifle a giggle. 

“Fair enough.” You lean against him one last time before sliding off the bed, kneeling in front of him. “So she’s like this.” You watch his throat bob as he swallows harshly, everything is starting to quickly become real as he nods. You reach your hands towards the noticeably larger bulge in his strict jeans, stopping just before you touch him. “Can I?” 

“Yeah, of course.” With his approval you gingerly unzip the restrictive fabric, watching his half hard dick spring free. He’s certainly not nine inches but he’s still intimidating. You don’t have a frame of reference but you have to assume he’s on the bigger side of things. 

“You don’t wear underwear?” You scoff, trying to lighten the mood despite the combined anxiety and arousal pulsing through you right now.

“Not usually.” He murmurs, notably softer than before. 

“What do I do first?” 

“If you want, you can start by touching it, just do what feels right.” He reaches down to hold your face for a moment until you’re able to calm down a bit. You reach forward at a snail's pace until finally wrapping a hand around the base, jumping a bit as you feel him twitch against your palm. You slowly stroke him, just once before looking up at him, a reassuring smile on his face as you stroke him a few more times, feeling him swell until he stands fully erect. Almost absentmindedly your other hand drifts between your legs, you experimentally grind against your own hand as you continue to leisurely jerk him off, watching how he grips the sheets when you run your thumb over his drooling tip. 

“What do I do next?” You look up at him. 

“Spit on it, hermosa.” His voice is raspy and you sit up on your knees, a line of spit falling from your mouth onto the head of his cock, drawing a hiss past his teeth. It’s easier to stroke him when it’s wet, you experiment with different speeds, watching his reactions until in a moment of bravery you tentatively guide him into your mouth. You can’t help but feel pleased when his hand instinctively flies to your hair, not moving you in any direction, just holding you. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the bitter pre-cum as you open your jaw a bit wider, letting him slide over your tongue. As you take him deeper you feel him against your throat and you quickly gag, coughing a bit as he gently pulls you off. “Go slow, don’t take more than you’re able to.” You cough again, catching your breath before taking him in your mouth again, slower this time. “Use your hands on the rest.” He murmurs, the low tone shoots through you and you quickly go back to touching yourself with one hand while using the other to stroke the half of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth. 

After a few minutes you begin to moan against him as you try to reach your own peak, your hand now haphazardly shoved down the front of your pants. He’s leaning back, his pupils pitch black as he watches you, his breathing unsteady. 

“You think you’re ready for more?” He says sweetly, caressing your hair. You pop off of him, watching a line of spit going from the head of his cock to your lips. 

“Sure.” You feel less nervous than you thought you’d be as you stand up, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. You feel all fuzzy and slick between your legs, your pussy aches with need as he takes your hand, pulling you onto the bed with him. You sit up against the headboard as he strips completely, discarding his shirt and shoving his pants all the way down. 

You can’t help but take in the sight of him as he turns back to you. 

His warm sun kissed skin, the wide expanse of his shoulders a sharp ratio to his slim waist. He’s toned but he’s soft around the edges and his cock stands proud against the thatch of hair on his lower abdomen. You tilt your head the way it curves, admiring it until he laughs. 

“I want you to do something for me that wasn’t in the story.” He climbs back into bed with you, playing with the waistband of your sweats. 

“Sure, what is it?” You lift your hips, letting him pull them down, tossing them off the bed. 

“I want you to show me how you touch yourself.” You stare at him, a little shocked by the request, your eyes going wide. 

“Why?” 

“I want to see, I want you to show me what feels good.” You want to feel more self conscious but he’s completely naked and something about the fact that you’re still a little covered up helps you relax, with a soft sigh you gingerly slip your hand down the front of your panties. You go off of muscle memory, recalling what you would do if he wasn’t here. 

Tracing your fingers in delicate circles around your clit, watching as he begins to touch himself, almost matching your pace. This would have been a fantasy of yours that you’d resort to when nothing else worked. Javier Peña in your bed, revealing some sort of secret attraction to you, you just never thought it would ever come to fruition. 

But here he is.

Ravaging you with his eyes as you dip two fingers into yourself with a shuddering breath, his own movements stuttering a bit as you do so. With everything leading up to this it isn’t hard to feel the familiar heat building as you expertly push yourself towards it. After a few moments more you shove your panties down completely, wanting to be unencumbered as you discard them. Without them restricting you, you can easily feel that hot tightening sensation approaching rapidly. Your breathing gets heavy as you grind your fingers against your palm, you feel the familiar fiery sensation in the bottom of your stomach as you start haphazardly fucking your own hand, you keep your eyes on the way he fucks his own until you’re just about to burst and he takes hold of your wrist, stopping you.

“Please I-” You let out a frustrated whine but he shushes you with a quick peck.

“I know, can I do it?” You nod frantically, you’d like nothing more. He gently pushes two fingers into you, you gasp in surprise at the sudden stretch as he slides them in and out slowly, continuing to jerk himself off with his other hand as he watches how you eagerly suck him in. 

It doesn’t take much from there. 

His thumb mirrors the motions you did against your clit and that’s all he has to do to push you over the edge. Your cunt spasming around his fingers as he works you through your orgasm, hot white burns the edges of your vision and you keep your eyes open long enough to watch as he squeezes the base of his own cock, groaning as he makes his own attempts not to finish. You're vaguely aware of him murmuring something that sounds like praise in Spanish as you get your bearings, he slowly removes his fingers, leaning forward on his knees to kiss you. You catch your breath through the kiss until finally he pulls back.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His breathing heavy as he nudges his forehead against yours. 

“Is it gonna hurt?” You’re more curious than nervous at this point. 

“It shouldn’t, and if it does I’ll stop, okay?” He hops off the bed for a moment, searching through his wallet before tossing you a condom. 

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want?” You carefully tear open the condom wrapper, handing him the rubber ring with a nod, watching how he aptly rolls it onto his cock. 

“Probably wouldn’t have come this far if I didn’t.” You slide down the bed a bit so you’re mostly laying on your pillows as he positions himself on top of you. He still seems worried about you so you reach forward, taking his cock in your hand and guiding him between your legs. 

You can’t help but sharply inhale as he eases just the tip into you, your eyes flutter shut and your mouth opens slightly as you sigh.  

God, you wish you’d done this sooner. 

It doesn’t hurt. You expected a stinging, or a tearing, instead it’s just pressure. When you open your eyes you find his squeezed shut now as he slowly works himself into you, rocking slowly back and forth. He keeps your foreheads pressed together, occasionally, bumping his nose against yours. 

“Still good?” He whispers, a noticeable strain to his voice. You nod, watching curiously as he pushes his hips forward in one last motion to fully seat himself in your heat. His jaw is tense and he’s breathing through his teeth. “So fucking tight.” He mumbles before leaning forward, groaning into your mouth. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask when he pulls himself away with a soft smile. 

“No, it just makes me worried about hurting you.”

“I’m okay, I want you to move.” You look down to where the two of you are joined. Watching how he gently pulls himself from you just a bit before pushing back in. That’s when he bumps against that spot inside of you that suddenly has you seeing stars, your hands grip his shoulders as a moan slips out of you, the grin you’ve seen a hundred times before forms on his face, you’d once hated it but now it has you gushing around him. 

“Does that feel good?” He tilts his head to the side, nudging his nose against your temple as you nod fervently. He repeats the motion, pulling out about halfway before snapping his hips forward again, your back arching when he slams into the sweet spot inside of you. 

“Fuck- Peña, right there.” You whine, your nails leaving little crescent indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders. He gets into a steady rhythm with it, crashing into you with precise deliberate strokes, designed to make your head spin. He grits his teeth once more, his breath going ragged.

“Javier.” He pants, gripping your waist to hold you still. For a brief moment you almost see vulnerability in his eyes. 

“Just like that, Javier.” You stammer out as he bends one of your legs up, pressing you into the mattress further as he throws your ankle over his shoulder, the new angle letting him fuck far deeper into you than you even thought possible. The soft and slow Javier starts to dissipate as he bares his teeth, his breath hot and heavy through his tense jaw as he slams into you. The second orgasm building in your stomach isn’t like anything you’ve ever felt before, it’s molten inside of you, threatening to burst as he brings a hand to your clit.

“Shit- tell me when you’re close.” He growls, your vision’s already blurring again as an unfamiliar pressure settles within you. 

“I- I am.” You pant out, he accentuates each thrust with a grunt and you feel yourself slip as he applies the slightest pressure to your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re positive you’ve never come like this before, you soak his cock, a flood of your release pulses out of you as you strangle his cock. He collapses into you, your orgasm sending him over his own edge. You feel him throbbing within you as he groans into the pillow next to you. The two of you lay in a sweaty, breathless heap for a moment until he pulls out of you with a hiss, rolling over, his chest heaving as he lays beside you. 

“Now do you believe that I don’t hate you?” He gasps out. 

“I might need a little more convincing.” You grin, reaching behind you to turn your lamp off before rolling yourself over so you're on top of him.

a/n : I have a very serious love hate relationship w this.

[betweenstorms]

Hi hello, hope you're having a good day Stormy! Your writing is always so good sjdjsjd always makes my day when I have the chance to read em! Not sure if you take requests, so if you don't, you can always ignore this! But I have a pretty interesting prompt that might pique your interest 👀

We all know Simon doesn't show emotions easily, usually the people very close to him will spot out the minute details that give away how he's feeling. Small twitch of the lips, tense of shoulders, that kind of thing. But how about reader who is slightly different, in that they also don't show emotion that well, but it's because they forget to? Sounds confusing I know, but for me I forget my mouth exists and constantly forget to smile at people when greeting them. So for reader, the only way others know how they're feeling is with the tone of their voice.

Hope that isn't too confusing to understand! It's a very weird thing I have, and have not encountered anyone else who share this lmao

Anywayyy have a great rest of your day, and remember to hydrate and eat something! 🖤

- Biscuits 🌺

Hi Biscuits! 🌺 First of all, thank you so much for your kind words! I’m so sorry it took me this long to reply, but I’m excited to let you know that my interpretation of your idea is finally here! I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed exploring such a unique and fascinating prompt. I hope you’re having a wonderful day, and don’t forget to hydrate and eat something too! Thank you again for trusting me with your idea. 🖤

You didn’t need to look up to know the weather outside was a dreary shade of grey.

Strangely, it was always just grey here. Overcast skies that seemed to stretch endlessly over the joint military base somewhere in Germany, as though nature itself had resigned to a dull monotony. Not that it bothered you. Weather, much like people, had a way of projecting its moods that you’d long stopped trying to interpret. Clouds could loom ominously, sunlight could break free in radiant streaks, but it all felt the same to you.

Emotions were like that too.

Amorphous, indistinct, slipping through your grasp when you tried to name them. For as long as you could remember, you’d lacked the innate ability most people seemed to have, the quick flick of recognition when faced with a scowl, a smile, or a furrowed brow. You saw the movements of mouths and brows but couldn’t place what they were supposed to mean.

To you, the dance of expressions was no more than a series of movements, the subtle lift of lips or tilt of a head stripped of the weight they were meant to carry. And so, your own face reflected the only truth you understood. Your own face usually mirrored the neutrality of the weather, a blank slate that rarely shifted unless you consciously willed it to.

Price and Gaz were out on a recon mission, leaving Soap, Ghost and you on the foreign base. With no immediate orders other than to wait for their return, the three of you had the rare luxury of downtime. However, despite this, none of you strayed from your usual discipline. The day began at dawn, as always, with the shooting range, gym sessions, or reviewing intel as needed. The quiet efficiency of your routines spoke volumes about the kind of people you all were, professionals through and through. There were no shortcuts at this level, no slacking off. You were the best of the best after all.

Each of you carried that mantle in your own way.

Soap’s energy crackled like a live wire, his easy laughter and constant chatter an antidote to the grim seriousness of your world. Ghost, by contrast, was the anchor—silent, steadfast, a figure carved from stone. And you? You found yourself somewhere between them, detached yet watchful, a quiet observer tethered by a relentless need to prove yourself.

You liked working with Ghost in a way that was difficult to articulate, even to yourself. There was no camaraderie in the traditional sense, no banter or easy companionship, but strangely, there was something deeper, something unspoken.

Your lieutenant moved through the world with the same deliberate calm that you valued in yourself, his every action sharpened by precision and purpose. You respected him for that, his unrelenting dedication, the quiet strength he carried like a shield, and the way his presence seemed to command gravity itself, pulling the air taut whenever he entered a room. And somehow, Ghost felt like a reflection, as though the world had cut both of you from the same cloth. He, too, was a figure cloaked in neutrality, his mask hiding not just his face but the emotions that might lie beneath.

Even with the lull in operations, you didn’t take the task force’s trust for granted. You had fought hard to earn your place here, shedding blood and sweat to prove yourself to Price and the rest of the team. The task force was a strange paradox—these were people you trusted implicitly with your life, but you knew almost nothing about them on a personal level. That was just how things worked. Bonds forged in war zones didn’t require knowledge of favorite foods or childhood dreams. Still, you couldn’t deny a small, nagging curiosity about the men you worked with—especially Soap and Ghost.

Both were enigmas in their own ways.

Soap, all charm and humor, seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, yet you suspected there was more to him beneath the surface. Ghost, on the other hand, was a locked vault, his emotions buried under layers of stoicism and a mask that seemed to shield more than his face. 

You had been with the task force for four months now.

It had been an honor to receive Price’s invitation, and though you felt pride in your accomplishments, showing it outwardly had always been a challenge. Ever since childhood, you’d struggled with recognizing and expressing emotions.

Your family had always been understanding, brushing it off as an eccentric quirk, and you’d never sought a formal diagnosis. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel, far from it. You just didn’t show it in the usual ways. Smiling, frowning, or even appearing annoyed often felt like trying to mimic a foreign language without understanding the grammar.

As a child, you were always the odd one, the kid who stared too long, too intently, when other children laughed and cried. Your parents, to their credit, were patient. Your mother, warm and pragmatic, would gently remind you to smile when greeting your grandmother or reassure you when a relative’s frown went unnoticed. “They’re not cross, love,” she’d say, her hands light on your shoulders. “Just thinking. You’re fine.”

But the world wasn’t as kind as your family.

As you grew, the peculiarities of your face invited suspicion, sometimes ridicule. “Why don’t you ever smile?” teachers would ask, their tone suggesting you were withholding something from them, as though joy was a currency you refused to spend. Friends, when you had them, would mistake your silence for coldness, your neutrality for indifference. By the time you reached your teens, you’d grown used to the questions and assumptions, building an armor of pragmatism around yourself. What was the point in trying to explain something you didn’t fully understand?

Somehow, your body simply forgot the script.

You forgot to move your lips when greeting a loved one, forgot to furrow your brows when confusion took hold, forgot to cry when sadness settled heavy in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t feel. Feelings bloomed and churned within you like storms on a distant horizon, but they never found their way to the surface. You were a house with locked shutters, and though the light was on inside, it rarely spilled out to illuminate the exterior.

Oddly enough, this trait had become an asset in your line of work.

Pragmatic, objective, and unshaken by emotion, you excelled in high-pressure environments. It was this armor that had served you so well in the military and later in the SAS. Neutrality was an asset here—a foundation upon which precision, discipline, and logic could thrive. Emotions muddied decisions, and in your line of work, clarity was king. When the invitation to join Task Force 141 had come, you’d accepted with quiet pride, though you’d made no effort to show it. Your calm, measured responses made you reliable and efficient, qualities that had undoubtedly caught Price’s attention.

But outside of missions, it created a distance between you and the rest of the team. Building camaraderie required a kind of emotional fluency you didn’t naturally possess, and though you didn’t dwell on it much, it sometimes left you feeling a little isolated.

Four months in, you’d cemented your place among the team.

They trusted you on the battlefield, and that was enough. Personal bonds were optional here, weren’t they? You’d told yourself that many times, but the truth was harder to swallow, trust in war didn’t translate to understanding in peace. Soap’s boisterous banter, Gaz’s easy charm, and Ghost’s impassive stares all existed in a language you couldn’t quite speak.

This morning, however, was different.

Breakfast was normally a solitary affair, a brief respite from the day’s structured chaos. But today, Soap and Ghost had joined you in the mess hall, their presence sat heavy at your periphery. You sat across from them, meticulously working through your meal while Soap tapped his fingers on the table in a rhythm that suggested trouble. Neither of them was eating, and their idle presence felt vaguely unsettling.

It didn’t take long for your suspicion to be confirmed.

“Y’know,” Soap began, his voice lilting with mischief. “Been meanin’ to ask you somethin’, lass. How’s it possible to sit there, day in, day out, with a face that doesn't move? Like a bloody mannequin, you are.”

You raised a brow, a slight, subtle motion that could have meant anything, but didn’t stop eating. Soap took this as an invitation to continue.

“You don’t smile,” he declared, as though it were a groundbreaking revelation. “Or frown. Or even twitch your face half the time. How d’you do that, eh? Are you secretly a robot?”

“I’m not a robot,” you replied, your tone flat but perfectly even.

He leaned back, shaking his head with mock disbelief. “Could’ve fooled me. You’re like a statue, don’t even look annoyed when I’m talkin’ shite at you. Bet you couldn’t make a face to save your life.”

You paused, setting down your fork with deliberate precision.

“I can make faces,” you said coolly.

“Aye, then let’s have a wee go at it. Give us a smile, eh?” Soap’s lopsided grin widened, and he glanced at Ghost, who remained silent but was now clearly paying attention, his hazel eyes flicking toward you. You blinked at them, debating whether it was worth the effort to argue.

Instead, you attempted to comply.

The corners of your mouth lifted in what might have passed for a smile if not for the stiffness in the gesture. It felt awkward, like wearing someone else’s skin.

Soap slapped the table, his laugh booming across the hall. “Creepin’ Jesus, that’s tragic! Like watchin’ a bairn try to wink for the first time.”

“Better than watchin’ you try to think,” Ghost deadpanned, not missing a beat.

Undeterred, Soap straightened up. “All right, fine. Forget smilin’. Show us angry.”

You weren’t bothered by Soap’s teasing, not at all.

Sarcasm and banter weren’t your battlefield, and you didn’t need to win these small wars of wit. If anything, you found his energy oddly endearing, a welcome distraction in the quiet monotony of downtime. So you furrowed your brow and narrowed your eyes slightly, aiming for something approximating irritation. Soap burst into another peal of laughter, throwing his head back and letting it roll out uninhibited.

“Honestly, you’re hopeless,” he howled, tears of laughter glistening in his eyes.

Ghost sighed, setting his tablet down with deliberate care.

“Enough, Johnny.”

Soap held up his hands in mock surrender, his grin lingering like a spark refusing to fade, but your attention had already wandered, your gaze tracing their movements like studying a map of familiar terrain. Soap’s restless energy hummed, his gestures loose and unrestrained, a stark contrast to Ghost’s deliberate stillness, every shift of his body a calculation.

And then his hazel eyes met yours—sharp, unflinching, and so steady it rooted you in place. There was no hostility, no question, only a quiet intensity that made your pulse stutter, a strange, warm stirring low in your stomach that you didn’t dare acknowledge. His gaze held you captive for a beat too long, the air around you heavy, before he turned away, leaving behind a weight you didn’t fully understand but couldn’t quite shake.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, his voice lower now, more measured. “Faces lie. It’s your voice that tells the truth.”

You blinked. “My voice?”

Ghost nodded, leaning back slightly. “You can hear it. If you listen proper. More honest than any forced smile could ever be.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

Compliments, if that’s what this was, were scarce in your world, as rare as sunlight piercing through storm clouds. From Ghost, they were practically unheard of. Yet his words lingered, carrying a weight that pressed gently against the walls of your chest. A quiet warmth began to unfurl there, blooming softly like a flame coaxed from dying embers, a mixture of gratitude and something unnamed, something that settled in the hollow spaces you hadn’t realized were waiting to be filled.

Soap, visibly startled by the uncharacteristic remark, stared at Ghost as though he’d grown a second head. “Bloody hell, Lt.,” he muttered. “Didn’t know ye had a poetic streak.”

Your lieutenant paid him no mind, his focus already returning to the tablet in his hands, as if the moment had never existed. But you remained still, the weight of his words draping over you like a thick, unshakable cloak. Honest. The word lingered, unfamiliar yet strangely resonant, threading itself into the quiet spaces of your thoughts, where it settled with unexpected ease. Soap broke the moment with a playful nudge to your shoulder.

“Still, you could do with learnin’ a proper smile, eh? Just in case.”

Your eyes rolled, an instinctive motion this time, unbidden but oddly fitting. Soap’s laughter rippled through the room, bright and careless, but it barely registered, a distant echo against the steady hum of your thoughts. Ghost’s words lingered, heavy with meaning, a rare compliment that pressed itself into the quiet corners of your mind with a significance that eclipsed anything you’d ever known. Perhaps, you mused, letting the warmth of the moment settle over you, it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Maybe that was something you could finally understand.

[iliketangerines]

dude, ur like…really good at writing I’ve been reading so muchhh of your work. love it. i was hoping maybe if it were possible….(bit of an ask…—i’m a h0rn d0g)(and an attention wh0re LMAO)

could you do a one shot maybe of mk1 raiden and kung lao x f!reader? Like both the boys really have a crush on said reader and try to impress her during training,like Lao is either trying to drag her away to show off his new skills, or share his prepped lunch with her…or raiden pulling her away to ‘help teach’ her with her stance etc. anything to have her away from the other. (and during the process they also try to one up each other, yk a little bit competition Tehehe >:3, but also kinda cutely embarrassing themselves) so after a long day of trying to get the attention of reader, they both decide to just flat out tell them about their feelings,(Laos idea) expecting reader to choose one of them. only for the reader to exclaim that she can’t choose, that she actually really likes both of them, so with this being said…the two silently agree on what they must do next. So naturally…they both end up sharing her (aka clapping cheeks, aka fucking me silly, I’m talking pussy eating, fingering hickeys biting team work to make reader cum, praise and if you have some more you wanna add then please dooooo😼) I hope this is a good enough prompt for you to work with. I’m a mess I hope it was comprehensive 🥲

choose me!

a/n: don't worry, i too am a horn dog, clearly

pairing: dom!kung lao x afab!reader x dom!raiden

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), praise kink, slight degradation, blowjobs, creampies, double penetration, spanking

Raiden glares at Kung Lao as he feeds you something from his packed lunch with his fingers

you smile in delight as you take a bite of Kung Lao’s food, lips brushing against his fingers, and Raiden can feel electricity crackling around him as his anger rises

he wants to take you for himself, away from Kung Lao especially because the other shoots a sneaky wink at Raiden, as if saying that he was going to win you first

Raiden won’t have that

later when you stretch in the courtyard, Raiden offer to help you stretch, and you gladly take him up on the offer

you lay back down on your back and have him sit on one leg while he presses the other toward your body

you groan out at the stretch, but Raiden can only stare at the way your pussy is separated from him by two thin layers of fabric

you have him keep you in that position for a minute before having him stretch out your other leg the same way, and Raiden’s head spins at your flexibility

you wave him off to have him do his own stretches, and you easily slide into a split and you bed your back leg and grab onto your foot, stretching out your quads

Raiden nearly drools at the sight of your chest pushing out into the air as you stretch

he averts his eyes and focuses on his own stretching as you switch to the other leg, and when you’re finally feeling loose and ready to warm-up, Raiden comes up to you and offers to warm you up

you easily take his deal and train with him, and Raiden guides you through the stances and moves, warming up your muscles

he can feel Kung Lao boring holes into the side of his head, but he doesn’t care because you’re so pliant underneath his hands as he helps you

the next day Kung Lao brings you chocolate-covered strawberries

Raiden lets you use the amulet the day after

it’s an endless catfight between the two, and you start avoiding the two, tired of how they bicker and constantly hiss at each other

Kung Lao approaches Raiden underneath a cherry blossom tree and sits down next to him and tells him that they should both just confess their feelings for you

Raiden raises a brow at Kung Lao in confusion, and the monk continues, saying that you’ve started avoiding them with how much they fight and that he doesn’t want that

Raiden hums but finally nods, and the both of them get up to find you

you’re sitting in your bed, taking a day off from training, and you have a book in your hands and a thin t-shirt on to battle the heat of the summer

Kung Lao knocks first, and you tell them to enter

they both enter and share a glance between each other before Kung Lao blurts out that they both like you and that they’ve been trying to impress you all week

Raiden glares at Kung Lao, saying that they’ve been too much and it’s been driving you away and so they wanted to chance to come clean and possibly have a chance with you

you glance between the two of them and set your book down and put your reading glasses down on the dresser next to you

you ask that you have to choose between the two of them?

Raiden and Kung Lao nod, and you look between the two of them in silence before quietly saying that you can’t really make a decision, that you like them both for different reasons

Kung Lao looks over at Raiden, and it seems they have the same thought as Kung Lao closes the door behind them and Raiden approaches you on the bed

Raiden crawls over to you and presses his body into you as he tilts your head and up and kisses you

you grip onto his shoulders as Raiden presses his tongue into your mouth, and he feels like he’s in heaven as you moan into his mouth

he grabs onto you and flips you both over so that you’re on top of him, and he grabs onto your hips

your shirt rides up, showing how you have no panties on, and Kung Lao groans at the sight of your naked pussy and climbs onto the bed and settles in between Raiden’s legs

Kung Lao grips onto your ass, squeezing roughly and spreading them apart to see your pussy better and you whine into Raiden’s mouth at the sensation

Kung Lao mutters under his breath how you’re such a slut for not wearing panties, and he smacks your ass, enjoying how it jiggles at the force of the impact

your hips jerk and grind into Raiden’s clothed cock, and the champion underneath you groans at the stimulation

he moves you upward so that he has access to your neck, and he grips onto your waist tightly as he kisses and sucks hickey into your neck

Kung Lao behind you slides his fingers through your pussy folds and tells you that your cunt is already drooling for them and asks you if you've’ been wanting this

you whine and try to grind your pussy into Kung Lao’s thick fingers, but he retracts his hand and slaps your ass and tells you to answer him

you cry out a yes, and Kung Lao laughs, saying you really were such a whore

he slides his fingers along your pussy folds against, and this time he pushes his fingers in, groaning at how your pussy sucks him in

you whine at the stretch and buck your hips backward, and Kung Lao grins and starts fucking you slowly on his fingers, grinning as you whine desperately for more

Raiden nips at your neck and tells you to be patient and to be good for Kung Lao and take what he gives you

you whine but listen and clutch onto Raiden’s shoulders as he continues to lavish your neck with attention

Kung Lao continues to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly, laughing at your pathetic and needy whimpers

he watches as your pussy drools on his fingers, the wetness dripping down and staining Raiden’s pants, and Kung Lao removes his fingers from your wet cunt

you whine at the loss, but Kung Lao tells you to turn around and sit on Raiden’s face

Raiden perks up at the prospect, and he helps you turn around so your pussy hovers over Raiden’s face

you shift your weight on your thighs, unsure if you should put the entirety of your body on his head, but Raiden grabs onto your thighs and pulls you down, burying his tongue into your wet cunt

he laps at you desperately, trying to taste every sweet part of you, and you whine as he fucks you on his tongue

Kung Lao tells you to clean up your mess and points at the stain in Raiden’s pants, and you lean down until your mouth is only an inch away from Raiden’s crotch

your clit grinds into Raiden’s chin, and you whine at the stimulation and grip onto the sheets

Kung Lao tells you to hurry up and crosses his arms despite the tent in his own pants, and you stick out your tongue to give a hesitant lick to Raiden’s pants

Raiden moans into you as he laps your cunt, and you whine as the vibrations travel through your spine and make your head spin with pleasure

you mouth at Raiden’s clothed crotch, licking up every spot that your wetness leaked onto, and Raiden moans and bucks his hips up into your face

you groan and keep licking, desperate to have him cum first before you do, but Raiden grips onto your thighs as he loses himself in your taste

little shocks of electricity run through your legs, and you let out a whimper and a loud moan as you cum on Raiden’s tongue almost immediately

you grind your hips into his face as he moans into your face, and you fist the sheets in your pleasure

as you ride out your high, Kung Lao grabs onto your hair and lifts your head up so that he can kiss you, and you moan into his mouth as he presses his tongue into your mouth

Kung Lao pulls you away from him and tells you to get up and take off your shirt and get on your knees

you get off of Raiden’s face, and he whines at the loss of your sweet cunt

but he quickly loses that disappointed thought as he sees your bare chest presented to him and you on your knees before the two of them

Kung Lao strips off his clothes, and Raiden quickly gets out of bed and gets rid of his clothes as well

you drool at the sight of their bare bodies, muscles flexing in the sunlight, and Kung Lao smirks as he notices how your gaze focuses on their heavy cocks slapping against your stomach

Raiden guides his cock toward your face, and you eagerly take it into your mouth and suckle on the tip, pressing your tongue into the slit

he groans and grips onto your hair as you bob your head up and down his cock, and your hand reaches up to pump at Kung Lao’s cock

you moan as you look up at Raiden through wet eyelashes, and the champion coos at you, telling you that you look so beautiful for them on your knees

you whine at the praise and try to take Raiden even deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat, and you breathe through your nose and push through the pain as your nose hits his pelvis

Raiden groans at your warm mouth enveloping his mouth entirely, and his hips buck into your face

you gurgle at the sensation, but you keep your head down as drool drips down your chin

Raiden says you’re so good to him, and he starts fucking into your face slowly, enjoying how your lips stretch and drag along the length of his cock

Kung Lao is doing no better

your hand is wrapped around his dick and spreads his pre-cum all along the shaft

you press your thumb into the slit every time you pump up, and Kung Lao has his head thrown back as fucks into your hand

he’s getting close, but he doesn’t want to waste his seed on your hand

and so he pulls your hand away, and Raiden reluctantly pulls his dick out of your warm mouth

you whine at the loss, but Kung Lao drags you up and lays down in the bed with you laying on top of him, chest pressing into his

Kung Lao aligns himself with your dripping pussy, and he slides in, groaning at the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing around his fat cock

you whine at the feeling as your hips jerk, too full and stretched, and Kung Lao slaps your ass and tells you that you can take more

you then feel Raiden notch his dick right next to Kung Lao’s, and you say you can’t, you’re already so full, you can’t, fuck, it’s too much

Kung Lao purrs out that you can, and Raiden agrees as he slowly slides into you, saying that you can be a good little slut and take their cocks, right?

you sob at the stretch, but you blabber out incoherent nonsense that you can be good for them, that you’ll be a good whore for them

Raiden hums happily and starts thrusting in and out of you slowly, and Kung Lao follows soon after

their pace quickens soon enough, and they’re soon abusing your poor pussy, the sound of wet slaps echoing in the air and mixing with the sound of your moans and whines

you’ve never felt so full, and your clit grinds into Kung Lao’s pelvis with every thrust

you’re slowly losing your mind to the pleasure and you can only clench onto the sheets and whine

Kung Lao has one hand gripping onto you waist hard enough to leave bruises, and his other hand cups the back of your neck and brings your lips to his

Raiden has his hands squeezing your ass, hands sending little shocks of electricity through the plushness as he becomes consumed by pleasure

your head spins as you moan into Kung Lao’s mouth and cum on their cocks

they groan at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on them, but neither of them cum

rather they fuck into your pussy even rougher, slapping your ass and spreading your cheeks to see how your pussy drools and how a creamy ring of your release form at the base of their cocks

your mind goes blank as they make you cum on their cocks over and over again, and the overstimulation soon sets in as you hips attempt to jerk away

Raiden coos and tells you to take one more, to be good and cum just one more time for them, you can do that, right?

you whine and nod dumbly, and Kung Lao laughs at how cockdrunk you are

but neither Raiden and Kung Lao are doing any better as their hips start to lose their pace and their pants and moans grow louder

their grip on you tightens, and they leave bruises in your skin as you throw your head back and cum on their cocks as they spill their seed inside of you

they fuck you through your orgasm and theirs, and Raiden moans at the sight of their cum leaking out of your puffy pussy

finally, they both come to a stop, and Raiden pulls out first

Kung Lao pulls you off his lap and lays you on your bed before cuddling up close to you

he tells you that you did so good for them, that you’re such a good little slut for them, taking both of their cocks so well

you whine at his words, and Kung Lao chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead while Raiden slides in next to you, pressing his chest into your back

Kung Lao rests a hand on your hip and rubs soothing circles into you as you slowly fall into sleep, mind drowsy with pleasure, while Raiden whispers praise into your ear

you’ve got both of them wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it

[theyluvlyss]

Can I request if you can Hcs of all the ghost boys + Finney being in love ? ( Feel free to not add Finney since you wrote something similar before )

Xoxo 💋

𝐨𝐟𝐜 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧😌...

it's what I'm here for🫡♡. I really like the idea of writing about them being in love/having a crush rather than being with reader right off the bat !! very cool and unique idea (imo), and it definitely harbors that little difference in feelings/slight nuances that I'm very happy to expand on !

although it took me a bit, I've actually gotten most of the boys done already, and that's around when I gained the bright idea to just ... instead of making you wait, I remembered there's this thing called free-will, and I can quite literally post whatever and whenever I want lol😆 ...

meaning I can just post each boy for you one at a time as I finish them instead of waiting until they're all done and then making one long post :D !

on that note, here's finney's hehe...

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

while it's always fun to imagine (haha, get it💀) what it'd be like for him to be your best friend or your boyfriend, there's times when you yearn for that tension. that something in between that's more than a platonic relationship, but just short of being a lover. and I'm here to revive that feeling of what it'd be like for finney blake to have a crush on you...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x finney blake - she/her/hers pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

70s-80s - the grabber doesn't exist

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

cursing, as usual - small mentions of anxiety/nerves - finney being super cute lol - overall super duper fluffy and pretty much everything the prompt describes lmao.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

I know you said I didn't have to do him since I already have, but *adds that mf in anyway because he deserves round two of some lovins😆🫧💙🪩*.

Finney liking somebody/finding someone attractive is usually a dead-end deal. He keeps it to himself - buried deep down within the depths of his gentle soul, never to breach the light of day, because he knows good and well that even if it did arise, all it would lead to is rejection and - if he's extra unlucky - a teasing+beat-down combo attack from some known bullies of his (should they find out or be witness to these nonexistent attempts of confession).

A little depressing, I know, but bffr ... if you were Finney, would you do anything different🤨?

Althoughhhh....

Him having a crush on you, specifically, is very,,, confusing. Think of when you have a crush in real life, but you actually have a little bit more of a chance with them than usual. It's realistic. There's a sliver of hope. A light down in the depths of that depressing darkness.

It's like that.

And dare I say, he's fairly obvious about his liking towards you, but only if you're paying close attention.

If you're in a totally different clique, especially a popular one, just kind of in your own little bubble (which might as well be a whole new world to him), then the chances of you noticing/realizing his infatuation with you is very slim. Even in Finney's own case, he'd view you way out of his league, no chance whatsoever, so don't expect him to make any moves of any kind.

And on top of that (as I mentioned first thing), he'd do his damn best to not let ANYONE find out, ESPECIALLY Robin, Gwen, or Bruce, because the last thing he wants is for them to get overconfident on his behalf and try to set y'all up. What if you reject him?

Or worse, what if you end up liking Robin or Bruce instead of him? He wouldn't be able to take it. And lord knows he keeps his crush hidden from his bullies for highly good reasons. An even worse scenario in his mind than the last one is if they publicly teased him (or the both of you) about it, made a mockery of his feelings for you to witness and either join in or pity him - neither an outcome his ego and self-esteem were built to handle.

Now, the opposite - actually knowing him and/or being his friend - the case would probably still remain the same with only slight differences. He'd still find you out of his league, probably wouldn't make any bold moves. But, being his friend, closer to you, a little more comfortable around you, there may be times where he'd make the SLIGHTEST of nods to MAYBE, POSSIBLY liking you in a romantic fashion. JUST A LITTLE BIT.

BUT, he'd also be so worried and absorbed in his own head about all the different little things - am I impressing her? am I making her uncomfy? Does she already know? Does she not know and thinks I'm weird? Did she already think I was weird before I did that thing? Did she even catch onto that thing I did? Is she ignoring it? Is she ignoring me? Oh my god, she fucking hates me - that he lowkey wouldn't even consider the fact that you've been making more obvious moves on him this whole time.

He would probably end up liking you because of something you said or did. Like, depending on the situation, you said/did something that really resonated with him, or he found himself thinking about a lot. Which would then lead to him thinking about you a lot, and it's a spiral from there. Or, if already friends, it's probably something you did/said that had him now seeing you a new/different light, which, again, spirals from there.

Should anyone that's not you uncover the feelings he harbors, he's so the type to deny it. Gwen could be studying your behavior and body language up and down, and then report back to Finney with WRITTEN, PICTURE, PHYSICAL FUCKING EVIDENCE of you liking him/reciprocating the crush, and Finney would just be like, "...Nahhhh, you're just delusional, she wouldn't even notice if I disappeared the next day." And Gwen would just be like, "This bitch here😐..."

Either way tho, what I meant way earlier by "confusing" is that his version of (just barely) letting you know he likes you romantically is him just being,,, himself/friendly but a little bit more than usual LMFAO. Like, if y'all are friends and he always walked you to and from school, what he would do to further insinuate that he 💙likes💙 you is to just,,, walk you everywhere else🥴💀. Essentially be your moral support wherever you go lmfao.

Or like, besides doing stuff he really doesn't need to do that confuses you, he'd do things that kinda give the OPPOSITE of, "I'm literally in love with you." Avoid/not talk to you, avoid eye contact, stuff that just leaves you like, "...I don't think he wants to be my friend anymore🥲💔." LIKE BOY-!😭

But it's not intentional. It's just his nerves and doubts getting the better of him, y'know? Overthinkin, which leads to overreacting, etcetc., you know how it goes/what that's like lol.

So yeah, basic point, if the feelings aren't already made VERY CLEAR from the jump, don't expect things to get any clearer😻.

BUT, if after a while should he either gain a little more confidence (prolly from Robin) or you grow a pair and make the first bold move yourself (which would confirm it for him to be more comfy getting bolder himself as well), I feel like he'd still remain a little shy and mildly confusing, but very berry cute nonetheless.

I'm telling you, he'd put those crafting skills to work, hon👏🏽!! Just any chance he gets/has to either make you something or just impress you with something he's made, he's putting 1000% percent into it. I'm talking he's going broke, losing sleep, practicing what he's gonna say and how he says it - it's all going into whatever little (or big??) craft he knows you're going to see/he's gifting to you.

He'd also compliment you a lot, along with being more himself, which HELLO, he's so silly when he wants to be. I feel like he'd have you laughing a lot without exactly meaning/trying to, but HE'D FS CHERISH THAT like,,, every time he'd make you laugh, he'd just feel like he was on cloud nine - 'I made her laugh, I did that, me, she thinks I'm funny, she likes me, she's literally in love with me like I am her, otherwise she wouldn't be laughing so hard-'

...😃...Yeah, he takes what he can get and RUNS with it (which is why I think he'd love and is in need of lots of reassuring, plz take care of my baby😭🙏🏽).

On the topic of such, actually, it's kinda funny because it doesn't really affect his envy levels.

I don't think he'd get all that jealous if he saw you with other ppl; it would just be the thing of like,,, "That's what I get for getting my hopes up."/"It could be worse ngl." lmao which is sad on one hand but kind of mature on the other, yk?

Mature that'd he'd just leave it alone, not be pushy. But sad because wdym you think you're not worthy of some love/what you want out of life :( ? Luckily for him, though, I don't think he's able to hide disappointment/sadness very well.

Not that he's going around telling people, but he's just one of those "face/tone of voice says it all" kind of guys. So, depending on your thought process and if you can put two and two together, you're quick to squash any doubts of you being interested in someone else romantically.

"I'm not really into *state another persons features lol idk*. Not my type of guy..." which may or may not be you trying to guide him into asking your type, and he may or may not take the bait🤭.

No, but seriously, he literally may or may not catch on. There's definitely been a few times where he's missed the social cue, and on the inside, you're just like "😔🙄..."

He gets SUPPPPER flattered if/when you get jealous, tho. Like, I'd imagine it's a pretty rare occurrence (surprisingly to you, don't nobody be hitting on Finney Blake, okay💀✋🏽), but when it does happen, you're very quick to make it known you're hardcore crushing and liked him first, even going as far as to make it appear as if he's already taken.

You're hanging off of his arm more than usual or playing with his hand to keep him from fidgeting, you're staring at him with such a strong look of love-sickness in your eyes that might even cause the other girl to throw up, and should she even get as far as asking him out...? Oh boy...

"Actually, Finn, we were gonna hang out today, weren't we? I wanted to help you paint that rocket you're working on, I have the perfect colors in mind already...!"

"You...You do?"

"Yes, I do😃😐."

And the other girl just has to be like, "...I'll um,,,, Nevermind, Finney, I'll see you around."

"Maybe...!" You'll call after her cheekily, smile growing wider and wider as she trails away with Finney yet to even process the entire interaction at all. And while he might not catch on right away, the second he does, he's BEET red💀😭.

He doesn't know whether to admit he's smitten by your hostility or to let you know you don't have to be😭✋🏽. And more often than not, he'll opt for saying nothing at all, smiling to himself all shy while you're back to normal, talking as if you hadn't thwarted off a foe.

Confessing... That's not fucking happening, ever at all💀. And if he did, it would be on his death bed (I'm joking). But srsly, if he can avoid it for as long as possible, he will. The type to tell you on the last day of school, I'm talking GRADUATION DAY, right as one of y'all are leaving FOREVER, on some "I've always liked you..." type shit, and you would just have to be like, "WHYDIDYOUWAITSOLONGWHATTHEFUCK😭💔💔‼️‼️" Which is why I think it'd truly be up to you to confess (hopefully) way sooner😭💀✋🏽.

And if/when you did, he'd probably forget how to,,, exist lmao. Like, one of those moments where the information has to process in his head so he's just standing there looking at you like, "🧍🏻‍♂️:0" for a second before he's like, "o-OH!...I...I like you, too! And I have for- I mean... Like, it's been long. A long time. I've liked you a long time :D."

YOU KNOW WHAT?? If he felt he, himself, absolutely had to confess, he'd write you something. He's not Shakespeare or anything, but it would be much easier and less nerve-wracking for him to just write it all down. He'd hand it to you in person, apologize for the length of the letter that YOU HAVEN'T EVEN OPENED YET😭, and then practically teleport from the scene because he doesn't even wanna stay for your reaction. The fear of rejection is genuinely too much for him.

He'd be better off never hearing from you again if you didn't like him back rather than have you tell him to his face. ALSO, he'd give it to you in private. Wouldn't want to put you or himself on the spot, nor would he want to risk somebody catching him or you with the paper that has him pouring his heart out to you on it.

But, of course (because why else would you be reading this if you weren't expecting The Good Ending™), you're confused while opening and reading it until those feelings gradually begin to swell into a mixture of flatter, adoration, and just flat out love because not only had he FINALLY confessed to you...

But you had found it to be written quite beautifully, and it was overall the cutest thing that had ever happened to you, so now you have to return the favor - scribbling your response in some colorful pen color on the back of his own confession note, doodled with hearts and squiggly lines and all of that nonsense, leaving it in his locker - and letting the events take off from there.

Letting the relationship blossom from there🫧🥹🪩💙✨️.

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 !!

ik I say this literally every time I post something, but I really loved writing this, and it's because I LOVE WRITING; I love doing this shit, idcidc✋🏽😭✋🏽. if I could make a living off of this, I would, and I love seeing your guys' requests every day and reading through them over and over again.

and guys, let me tell ya', there isn't a better feeling in the world than completing and posting one, because whew...!! it's like having an endless supply of inspiration fr, I love it.

anyways, robin's will be posted soon after this one, so be on the lookout🫡😼 !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

@in3rci4

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

2,103 words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

[averageallogene]

You sister, who always have had everything she wanted, isn't happy Ayato chose to marry you.

So, on your wedding day, she sneaks into the groom's preparation room to try and convince him to marry her instead.

Ayato ♡⊹˚ Familial woes (SFW)

fem. reader (3rd person) ; angst with a good ending. cw for toxic family relationships.

4k words.

notes. I just cannot write something that isn’t past 3k words SORRY LMAO. But anyway, so it begins~ Thank you for all the wonderful ideas, I will do my best to write out each scenario in due time! Sorry if it isn't as angsty, if that's the case I'll try to make up with the others... I hope I do Ayato justice in this one <3.

Since I'm back home these prompts will be written on my laptop, hence the fancier formatting. Anyway, Enjoy! ✧˖°.

Coming from a prestigious clan has its ups and downs, yet [F/N] has managed to withstand most obstacles that appeared in her wake. Despite not being one of the tri-commissions, her family was held in the highest regards, including herself as the eldest daughter of the clan. Thankfully however, despite all the restrictions her lifestyle imposed upon her, she still had one good thing on her side - having an elder brother, she wouldn’t have to inherit all the pressure he did. It sounded dismissive, she herself knew so, yet the heart wants what it wants. And even for someone as self-disciplined and honorable as she, surely she could indulge, couldn’t she?

[F/N] had worked hard for her reputation, ensuring her clan kept its prestigious namesake whilst strengthening the bonds with other houses that would prove to become fruitful. With negotiation came alliances, and with alliances the stability of Inazuma was kept. Above all else, she knew, much like her brother, that this was what was to be first and foremost on their priority list. Two of the three children of their house upheld such responsibilities, save for their youngest sister. She, who didn’t have many expectations to her name when compared to her siblings, ended up living a much more desirable lifestyle - in short, she was pampered throughout her life, the apple of their father’s eye. Even in his deathbed, she was promised much more of their share, given everything to the palm of her hand whilst the other siblings were expected to simply cope with such reality. Even when their brother would inherit the Clan as well as all its responsibilities, both felt as though she had won in conquering their parents’ hearts.

[F/N] managed relatively well. Even as her sister grew up taking the spotlight from her whenever she got an ounce of attention, even as she had to work thrice as hard to receive a crumb of the recognition her siblings would get from their parents, she acted with grace that only corresponded with everyone’s expectations. An example of a noble young lady, she was perceived as. Even as her heart would often ache, anger boiling just underneath the surface, she covered it down as the long sleeve of her kimono would hide her bitter expression. She could deal with her sister, she had to. Years of hiding her distaste resulted in a skill that would prove useful in the future, [F/N] becoming able to hide her true emotions rather well. 

Their brother ruled their household impeccably, perhaps more so than even their father had while he still lived. [F/N] was there to aid whenever needed, it being mostly to advise him on important decisions and to communicate with their allies whilst he tended to his other duties. And being good with people, she performed her obligations rather well, becoming well acquainted with many important people and even forming friendly bonds with some. One of these was none other than the Kamisatos, including their young daughter of whom [F/N] doted on. In her, she’d found the younger sister she’d always wanted, offering her advice whenever needed, as well as sometimes offering her the company she craved - at least, whenever their busy schedules would allow them to. [F/N] had watched Ayaka grow from within, pride beaming in her chest as she became a fine young lady herself. It was of most importance for them to support one another, knowing full well how stressful their positions could be; it made their lives a little more bearable, knowing they had the support of someone outside of their immediate family. 

It was through this growing friendship that [F/N] became acquainted with Ayato, Ayaka’s enigmatic older brother and the ruler of the Kamisato household. Much more distant and calculating, it was seemingly difficult to come closer to his heart as the man held most within arm’s reach. Still, [F/N] remained cordial, not expecting much to blossom from there. Friendly interactions were more than enough, keeping the alliance of their clans alive. 

To Ayato however, it was much different. His experienced eyes watched, blue gaze lingering on the finely dressed figure as she often hid her elegant expression with her long sleeves. He noticed how she smiled without much light whenever she was within her clan’s walls, contrasting vividly when compared with how her expressions were genuine whenever accompanied with Ayaka and even Thoma. Ayato noted how she genuinely cared for his sister, offering her wise advice when regarding personal matters he could only figure weren’t of his caliber. And later, a few springs later, he studied how she’d come by more and more often, seemingly seeking refuge within the Kamisato residence whenever her position would allow. To Ayato, [F/N] wasn’t difficult to figure out, yet he couldn’t help but begin worrying for his sister’s friend.

“Thoma,” He’d beckoned his housekeeper, watching as he quickly obliged and approached. Even as he read through the stack of papers, he carried on the conversation. “Ayaka has expressed interest in inviting miss [F/N] over for the evening, yet is there any particular reason for it?”

“Oh,” He sighed out briefly, expression furrowing slightly as he gave his Lord a crack of a sympathetic smile. “Lady [F/N] has been quite down recently, so my Lady wished to offer her a safe space to rest for as long as needed. I-Is that something she should reconsider, my Lord?”

Ayato simply shook his head. “No, it’s quite alright by me; I just couldn’t help notice how she’s been coming over more often. Now, Miss [F/N]’s presence is more than welcomed, of course, yet I wondered how come she seems so gloomy these past few days.”

“Nothing seems to escape you, my Lord,” Thoma chuckled out, before sheepishly offering him an explanation. “Lady [F/N] has a… Rather tumultuous relationship with her siblings, more so with her sister. Apparently, she recently ruined [F/N]’s engagement to a wealthy noble of another house, and her brother did little else but attempt to brush everything under the rug before their reputation were to be stained. She’s been understandably annoyed by the situation, expressing anguish that her sister wasn’t properly punished.”

Ayato’s expression faltered ever so slightly, his hand lowering the paper he read. He’d heard of the news, as gossip traveled fast throughout Narukami. Yet he surely hadn’t heard of the ever so slightly important detail of her younger sister being the cause of such a ruckus. In all honesty, the Commissioner had simply thought she’d been the one to break off the engagement, rightfully so in his mind - they simply had little in common, so there was little chance of the marriage succeeding in the first place. 

“I see… If you happen to see her later, please inform her that she can remain here as long as she wishes.” He finished off with a small smile, accompanied with the dismissal of his friend before resuming his duties. 

It felt bad to overstay their hospitality, yet [F/N] found it difficult to refuse. Not after her anger made her nearly explode, as well as watching as her brother dismissed her more than justified anger. She’s just never going to change, he’d reasoned as to why he didn’t even punish her for meddling in her engagement, practically telling her to move on. In truth, [F/N] couldn’t exactly say she loved her fiancé, but he certainly wasn’t a bad match, at least from the little she knew of him. Well mannered, good temperament, friendly enough, a reputation similar to their own. Honestly, it had felt like she’d hit the jackpot when considering she would most definitely be married off to whomever her brother thought was the most ideal choice. She’d just gotten her mind set that he would be her husband, and her sister just had to insert herself in between them and whisk him away for her own satisfaction. [F/N] was forced to watch as he was wooed by her beauty and charms, becoming nothing short of her boytoy and wallet as she was pitied as the disgraced woman who was abandoned. Gossip was cruel, and she wished nothing more than to remain hidden away in the Kamisato Estate for a little while. 

Ayato received letters, [F/N]’s brother inquiring of her whereabouts as well as demanding her return. Amidst his pile of papers they were just too easy to lose, shrugging his shoulders as he feigned ignorance. Ayaka’s and Thoma’s presence were great in helping her cope, her mind forgetting the trash fire of a family she had for a little more than three weeks. However amidst the duties she had to do, as well as the way she would often give her brother advice on which decisions to make, her presence was beginning to weigh in her clan’s house.

“I should probably return soon,” [F/N] had sighed as she sat on their courtyard, Thoma offering her his company as he served her tea. “My brother will probably make a foolish decision without me there to weigh in the options.”

The blond man chuckled, passing her the fine ceramic cup. “It’s a shame, Miss [F/N]. Your presence in the Kamisato Household is a breath of fresh air, after all.”

“Thank you Thoma, I’ll most definitely miss being in such a peaceful place.” Her gaze turned to the distance, watching with melancholy the beautiful view their courtyard offered.

“You’re always welcome to stay for longer.” Ayato’s voice was suddenly heard, the pair turning to him as he made his way across the wooden floors to the table where they sat.

“Oh,” [F/N] breathed out, head lowering in respect. “Lord Kamisato, I-”

“Please, no need for such formalities. You may just call me Ayato” He offered her a small smile, one seemingly genuine enough as his eyes glimmered with the sunlight. “A friend of Ayaka’s is a friend of my own. She holds you in the highest regard, you know?”

[F/N]’s face bloomed with a lovely shade of pink, nervously laughing as she looked down. “Oh, that girl… She’s just too kind.”

“Are you insinuating she’s overselling your qualities, Miss [F/N]?” He teased, watching with humor as her face contorted in hesitancy and horror. 

“What? No, of course not- No, I mean-”

“Perchance she wishes to play matchmaker?” His smile grew more sly, finding her stuttering at his remark quite adorable. 

Thoma chuckled quietly, watching the two of them as he rather awkwardly stood there. “My Lord, please…”

“Right, I jest.” Ayato let out in a breathless chuckle, ceasing for the time being as he watched her expression soothe back, the blush still very well present. “Still, Miss [F/N]. You are more than welcome to return, if your family ever causes another ruckus.”

Her genuine smile looked beautiful, her sleeve not covering her face as she would’ve often done during their first encounters. It had been enough to engrave itself on Ayato’s mind, even as she returned to her family estate to once more fulfill her duties.

It was the beginning of something more. No longer did [F/N] visit the Kamisatos for Ayaka and Thoma, she now visited to see Ayato, as well. Even when he wasn’t there to see her, which happened more often than she’d like, she would still inquire how he was doing, hoping he’d be alright and not overworking. Her care for him was endearing, and Ayato found himself making small excuses every so often to leave his working station, wishing to welcome [F/N] to their estate instead and indulge in a philosophical conversation, or perhaps even a game of shogi. Under the blooming sakuras they would converse, and despite the apparent fleeting moments they were, those closest to Ayato could definitely notice the slight shifts in his demeanor - the Commissioner was, after all, not one to allow many into his heart, yet his soft spot for [F/N] was as obvious as it could be. 

Suspicion was quick to rise, especially for [F/N]’s siblings. However, [F/N]’s obliviousness was what boiled her brother’s frustrations, wondering if the Commissioner simply sought a plaything in his sister and not something serious. His hurries to find a match for her were in vain though, for just as he believed the answer was in reach, the news came to him through one of his many advisors - one aside from his sister, of course.

“M-My Lord, that might not be a good idea.” The older man stuttered, before breaking the news that was believed to be obvious. “Lord Kamisato is courting Lady [F/N], after all.”

In truth, it had blindsighted [F/N], for she couldn’t believe it for quite a while. Having developed a small crush on the Commissioner, she’d hastily reminded herself it would never develop into anything more. After all, her status required her to marry for benefit first and foremost, and something as worthless as love wasn’t in a noble’s interest. In his place, however, Ayato thought it was just the perfect arrangement - he was not only going to court someone he deeply cared for, their alliance would prove more than beneficial. His opponent, ahem, [F/N]’s brother, would have no rational argument against their marriage. 

The news was quick to spread across the land of lightning, and everyone was ecstatic for the Yashiro Commissioner. Ayato was a fine young man, an even finer leader, and his marriage to someone of such a high status as [F/N] was bound to please most. Like he’d calculated, despite not being how it was planned, her brother had no possible way of opposing his request to marry his sister. Ayato was, after all, in a higher rank than their own clan was. It was an honor, something he could not refuse. 

And as such, [F/N]’s future was bound with Ayato’s, and she couldn’t be happier. Their relationship progressed quickly, and even before their wedding, he arranged for her personal belongings to be promptly brought to the Kamisato Estate, where she would live. He couldn’t be more dismissive for appearing to go too fast, far too worried to finally bring [F/N] away from the pressure and unhealthy behaviors of her siblings. 

One who was far too flabbergasted by such turns of events was none other than her sister, the very same woman who’d taken her previous fiancé to only ditch him after she’d squeezed him for most that he was worth. She’d noticed the smile [F/N] had directed to her before leaving their Estate for good, escorted by samurai issued by her fiancé before turning her back to her. A sense of humiliation had overcome her, never having quite liked the bitter taste of defeat. To her envious gaze, it felt as though [F/N] had won for the first time in her life, and she wasn’t going to let her win the war.

The Kamisatos were more than courteous whenever [F/N]’s sister requested to visit. Ayaka was especially hesitant, yet Ayato let her come by without much trouble, assuring his lover he’d never allow her to cross any boundary. There was a certain distance between them, and [F/N] had no reason to ever doubt her lover. Her friends were all suspicious of her motives, watching as she blatantly faked happiness for her sister.

“You’ve ended up in great hands, big sister!” She’d praise, her voice dripping with hidden venom as she gazed around the luxurious estate. “You’re very lucky, you know?”

“Yes, I’m fully aware.” [F/N] would answer calmly, Ayato watching with amusement as she gave her a forced smile. 

“No, I do believe I’m the luckier one here.” Ayato would intervene, publicly choosing to lace his hand with her own, soothing his lover’s anger all the while studying the way her sister’s expression shifted. It was his own way of assuring he was serious about his decision, yet that seemed to, regrettably, only fuel the fire within that devil of a siren.

Preparations were underway, and before long, the day had finally arrived. Her sister’s attempts at wooing Ayato had fallen in deaf’s ears, the man feigning ignorance as his gaze was focused on none other than his fiancée. It was comical to watch as she quietly grew desperate to win the feud, yet at the same time it only brought on more anger and awkwardness to those around them. In his place, however, Ayato simply waited, knowing exactly well when an enemy wished to strike. He’d kissed his bride before leaving to prepare for the ceremony, quite curious to see her in the bridal wear that had been arranged for her as he himself was prepared. 

There was still some time before the ceremony would begin, and as such he stood in the present room, making sure he looked presentable enough for his own wedding. He breathed in slowly, finishing arranging his sleeves before hearing as the shoji doors opened behind him.

“Ah, Thoma is that you?” He called out, before turning to watch as a familiar figure eyed him. His expression shifted to slight surprise, watching as [F/N]’s sister carefully walked after closing the door behind her. “Oh, apologies for the confusion. Anything I can help you with?”

“Lord Kamisato…” Her voice lowered softly, approaching him as she fluttered her eyelashes slowly. Her kimono dripped from her shoulder slightly, a clear attempt at seduction being ployed as he remained still, not engaged in the slightest by her attempt. “Actually, there is something you may help me with.”

“Oh really?” He hummed, uninterested as he deployed all the remaining patience he had for the girl before him. With a small sigh he continued. “Then do speak, what is it.”

She came closer, uncomfortably so, her body pressing against his as she placed her hands against his chest. Giving him a concerned look, her expression twisted as she sighed dramatically, shaking her head as she voiced her opinion to him.

“My Lord, I simply cannot watch someone of your own stature marry someone as… Rowdy, and unworthy, as my sister.” She nearly wept, grasp holding onto him tighter before she continued. “She wishes nothing more than to use you to benefit our own house, she has no consideration for anyone regarding herself.”

“That is… Quite the accusation.” His voice grew cooler, arm lifting to carefully pry her away from himself. His hold was quick, as if dusting himself off of unwanted dirt, giving himself distance between the two of them before he continued. 

“I wouldn’t say anything that wasn’t true, my Lord.” She dared lie to his face, eyebrows furrowing before she stated she had proof. Ayato scoffed inside his head, watching with hidden amusement as she reached into the cleavage of her kimono to reveal a folded piece of paper. “Please, see for yourself.”

Deciding to humor her for a moment, Ayato picked up the letter, carefully unfolding it before having a quick read. Presenting itself as a love letter to another man, [F/N] apparently spoke of her plans to quickly dispose of Ayato after their wedding, inheriting most of the fortune before quickly disappearing with the lover to whom the letter was concerned. She bit her lip in her place, watching as he read it through before she came closer once more.

“She’s not worthy of you, my Lord.” She placed her hands onto his chest again, head resting against him as she eyed up at him. “She wouldn’t ever love you as someone like you deserves… Please, reconsider this before it’s too late. Consider someone that would treat you right… Like me.”

His gaze shifted, calculating and apparently still processing the information. Thinking she’d caught him in the perfect moment, she continued, hand sliding upwards his chest as she locked eyes with him.

“Lord Kamisato, unlike her, I would support you like a dutiful wife should. I would be able to bring much more to the table, and I’m certain my brother would much rather have our union take place. [F/N] simply wouldn’t know how to please anyone as a wife-”

“I’ve heard enough.” He cut her short, his expression fading to reveal a scowl, a raw portrayal of his emotions for once. His hand was quick to grip her wrist, yanking her away from him with enough care as to not hurt her, but still bringing his point across. He watched as her face shifted to surprise, now her being the one caught off guard. “In fact, I’ve had enough of you.”

“B-But, my Lord-”

“Silence.” His voice grew louder, watching as she flinched in her place. Ayato’s hand shook the measly forged paper she’d given him as proof, scoffing in her face. “If you truly believed a simple forged letter and your word would be enough to deter me from my fiancée, you insult me even more than what I had originally thought.” 

“Are you suggesting I’m lying?!” She gasped with hurt, Ayato curtly replying.

“Precisely what I’m insinuating. Forgive me for believing my fiancée instead of her meddling sister who cannot for the life of her be content for her flesh and blood.” It was his turn to approach her retreating figure, his voice growing harsher as he finally snapped on his lover’s behalf. “Now listen, and listen carefully for I will only warn you once.”

Her eyes widened as her lips trembled, suddenly feeling much smaller when in front of his imposing figure. Never would she have thought someone would speak to her in such a way, rendering her riddled with fear to even attempt to think of an argument. Ayato’s cold presence felt suffocating, leaving her in an hesitant state to even attempt to leave her current predicament.

“I’ve been long enough with [F/N] to know of your true intentions, and they don’t carry a single ounce of goodness. You only covet what isn’t yours, and I cannot even describe how I despise people like you. Those who cannot be happy for those who are closest to them are the absolute worst of people, and I want nothing to do with you aside from the formalities our clans require from us. I will only be cordial to you whenever others are around, so lest you want me to give you a new one, only appear before me when there are others around me. Understood?”

“I-I… I…” She couldn’t even bring her words out, Ayato repeating if she’d heard him. “Y-Yes-” She hiccuped.

“Good. Now, you will attend this wedding, and you will be on your best behavior. If you have nothing good to say to my wife, I do not want you anywhere near her. Now begone from my sight.”

Ayato had never watched anyone scurry away from him in such a pathetic state, sighing in frustration as he rubbed his fingers against his temple.

“Goodness. What a brat.” He murmured under his breath, the sudden cough catching him off guard.

“I knew it couldn’t be good the moment I heard my Lord raise his voice…” Thoma awkwardly chuckled, bringing him a freshly brewed cup of tea to soothe any possible nerves.

“Ah, so you’ve heard.” Ayato sighed, promptly thanking him for the tea before taking it carefully. “Do not speak a word of this to [F/N], yes?”

“I heard nothing.” Thoma nodded his head with a kind smile, offering him to adjust any creases of his ceremonial garbs before the wedding were to begin.

Despite the hushed incident, the wedding went on without any kind of drama or dispute. [F/N] was honestly surprised, noticing how her sister remained in her seat, eyes averting the happy couple as her brother forced her to indeed attend the ceremony, instead of ditching it like she would’ve preferred. After all, he didn’t want any ill will between the two clans, and without knowing of what she had done, he saw no reason as to why she shouldn’t attend.

“She’s been awfully quiet…” [F/N] had whispered to Ayato, who’d given her his ear as he’d tilted his head to her. Glancing back to see her sister remaining on her seat rather angrily, she glanced back at her now husband with a narrowing gaze. “What did you do?”

“Me?” He feigned ignorance, though his enigmatic smile gave it away. “I only asked her cordially to enjoy our wedding.” He justified himself, his hold on her hand tightening as his thumb stroked the back of her hand.

[F/N] could only shake her head, her bright smile being something Ayato wouldn’t do just about anything to protect. She sighed quietly, a silent thank you being given to him as she was now able to enjoy the rest of their wedding alongside him, together starting a new chapter as a strong and prosperous couple.

Needless to say, [F/N] found a great amount of joy in sharing with her family every little bit of good news she had, watching with pleasure as her sister festered in her unfounded jealousy she’d brought on herself. Ah, including the surprising, albeit still more than welcomed, pregnancy that soon followed their wedding, of course.

[fleurriee]

from the jealous, protective and territorial prompt list LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE NETEYAM 💗💗

❝  i just didn’t like the way they were looking at you.  like you weren’t mine.  ❞

+ [ CLAIM ]  for one muse to possessively place their hands on their shoulders or hips. 

ILYYYYYYYYY

so, this was a lot longer than i'd originally anticipated lmao. think i got a little to into the back story here <33 hehe tyyy im glad im doing him justice!! ily too 2k drabbles!

pairing ; neteyam x fem!reader

synopsis ; neteyam never did like it when others looked at what was his.

themes ; fluff, suggestive content - including heated kissing & groping, established relationship (mates).

Change had always been something you struggled with. From a very young age, you couldn’t stand it when even the littlest thing changed - whether your family had to move your tent to a different spot, no longer in the one you had grown to love; or, on a much larger scale, when people in your clan started to die more frequently due to the raging war.

You liked routine more than anything, you enjoyed the idea of doing the same thing everyday, nothing unexpected turning up out of the blue to catch you unawares. It was always considered more stressful if something changed within your day, because then the rest of it would.

The only change you ever did love, was when you became mated with Neteyam. It was obvious from the moment he had asked to court you that things were going to become different in the long run, but for once in your life, you didn’t find yourself worried about it. Instead, you craved it more.

It was so easy to fall in love with Neteyam Sully, that he eased you completely until you felt like you were an entirely different person. You weren’t scared when it came to having to meet new people who would eventually become your family; you weren’t scared of having to move your whole life into a different tent that would now be shared with your mate; you weren’t scared of waking up every morning with a different routine.

You weren’t scared - not if it meant Neteyam was by your side.

But, just because he had helped guide you through such a big change for you, that didn’t mean any other future ones to come weren’t going to scare you.

So, when it became known to the entire Omatikaya clan that the Sully family would be leaving to find another, somewhere far away so the dangers would follow them, no longer harming others that weren’t involved… it absolutely terrified you.

Of course, it was expected for you to go with them, too, as you were mated to the eldest Sully, and he was your entire future. And, whilst the reassurance of having him with you was comforting, the idea of leaving everything you’ve ever known behind - your family, your friends, your routine - was attempting to outweigh all of that.

Nothing would ever be the same again - not truly. You didn’t know if the next time you’d see your parents would be when you were much older, a family held safely under your wings they could scarcely recognise you. But, you didn’t have much of a choice, not when you were Neteyam’s other half - where one of you goes, the other follows.

It was safe to say that you struggled more than you’d care to admit when you first arrived in Awa’atlu. Everything was so startlingly different, you were surprised you didn’t create a headache from how much your eyes were flickering about the place, taking each and every thing in before the possibility of it disappearing could arise.

The Metkayina clan were so opposite to your old one in the way they do certain things - the way they hunt, the way they fight, the way they celebrate. It was a lot to take on board for a newborn, let alone someone who now needed to change their ways for a fresh start away from any lingering danger.

And, that’s what you kept in your mind, constantly repeating it to yourself whenever things got tough. This was for your family - now that every Sully was away from where they’d always been, the danger would disappear from the forest and struggle to find them. You were doing it to ensure everyone’s safety.

You’d repeat such a thought in your mind when you got things wrong, when you couldn’t control your breathing correctly so you could swim with the rest of them, or when you couldn’t understand what they were signing and instead laughed at your confusion.

So, the offer of Tsireya teaching you on a one-to-one basis everything you were struggling with was the best it could get. She was the kindest of the lot you’d met so far - her free-spirit and calming demeanour always making you feel all the more welcome - and you couldn’t have thought of a better teacher.

You’d been there for a little while now, the two of you conversing about the different signs that were of paramount importance when under the ocean. Her fingers were depicting a variety of shapes, pointing this way and that, until they dropped down in her lap, her expectant gaze looming on you.

“Um,” you thought, repeating the action within your mind and contemplating up an answer, “not here… danger nearby…?”

Your answer came out as more of a question rather than exuding any confidence, but when her once encouraging smile grew larger and her eyes lit up more, you felt pleased with yourself. “Yes!” she congratulated you, small claps from her lowered hands, “correct!”

A giddy laugh escaped your lips, feeling proud you’d manage to finally understand something they were saying. Ears perking up, they caught onto something else that didn’t include the obvious exuberance of yourself and Tsireya - turning your head, you noticed a group of boys lingering on the forest line, looking over at the two of you and watching you with hawking eyes.

Shrivelling in on yourself, eager to disappear from their view, you were moments away from turning back to Tsireya and telling her if you could go somewhere else. But, before you could, a pair of gentle hands placed themselves upon your shoulders, thumbs rubbing into the skin there. When you looked, it was Neteyam, back bent forwards so he was closer to your sitting figure, a hint of a smile on his lips - albeit, one that was slightly tense.

“Hi,” he greeted, “can I borrow you for a little bit?” he questioned, eyes flickering over to Tsireya for permission. Neteyam knew it was important you learnt their ways just as much as the rest of them, so he didn’t want to upset the one who was teaching you.

With an understanding nod, Tsireya got up from her spot and left, sending you a look that told you she’d find you later. Once gone, just the two of you left along the shore, your mate stood up straighter, gesturing with his head for you to follow him. Confused, you did as he’d wanted, his hand grasping your own as he led you further and further away, until there was nothing left but the sounds of the waves clashing against one another.

Bringing you to a stop, he placed you in front of him, so he could see you entirely. His features were pointed, slightly scrunched, as though he was agitated. It wasn’t often when you saw your mate such a way, so when you did, it was always something that must’ve annoyed him quite a bit.

“Ma’teyam, what-” you started, but there was no chance to finish, not when he suddenly grabbed you by your hips, pulling you into him until you were chest to chest, and placed a firm kiss upon your lips. His tongue clashed against your own, such passion and aggression intermixing together until you could feel your knees go weak.

Subconsciously, your own hands lifted higher until they were placed upon his broad shoulders, steadying yourself just in case you toppled over from the extreme love he was showing you - despite knowing he wouldn’t let you fall, not with the grip he had on your sides, anyway.

It was so rare to see Neteyam like this, especially when the two of you were in public, but it only made you all the more flustered.

Pulling away from one another, a subtle smirk stretched across his lips, pulling at the edges until he was only exuding cocky confidence. “Had to get you out of there,” he explained, words a slight pant from the breath you’d stolen from him. But, his words only made you more confused, considering you were only with Tsireya. He chuckled. “I just didn’t like the way they were looking at you… like you weren’t mine.”

Eyes widening just a smidge, you realised he’d been jealous of the group of boys. Still, that didn’t seem to explain much, seeing as you were sure they were mocking you. “But-“

“No,” he cut you off once more, shaking his head adamantly and stepping somehow closer to you. He squeezed your hips, dangerously enough to bruise you, something the two of you loved - showing off the marks that showed you belonged to someone, to Neteyam. “No, you’re mine, you understand that?” His smirk grew wider, fangs on display wickedly. “Hmm, maybe you need reminding of that, huh?”

[tetsuswaifu]

yoyo! fic idea imagine kuroo comforting reader saying ‘I know, baby, I know’ or something along those lines lol ⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄

please feel no pressure/rush to write this and look after yourself :)

Kuroo Tetsurō Comforting You After A Hard Day

word count: 600 - gn!reader

a/n: this prompt gives me so much comfort, i need snuggles w him now lmao, thank you so much for sending in a request tho i loved this idea so much so i had to get this written as soon as possible for you i really hope you enjoyed it ! lmk if you have anymore requests, i hope you take care as well love !🫶🏼

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated, thank you for taking the time to read my work :)

You trudged into your apartment, the weight of today's frustrations pressing down on you as you shut the door behind you. Your boss had been relentless, nitpicking every little thing you did, making you feel utterly inadequate. The tears you had been holding back all day finally streamed down your face, a flood of pent-up emotions.

Dropping your belongings by the front door, you barely noticed Kuroo emerging from the kitchen. His eyes immediately registered your distress, and he quickly crossed the room to pull you into his arms. “Hey, my love, what’s wrong?” His voice was filled with concern.

You tried to speak, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. Without hesitation, Kuroo scooped you up and carried you over to the couch. He held you in his lap, wrapping you in a tight embrace. With infinite patience, he comforted you, waiting silently until you were ready to talk.

“It’s my boss,” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. “They’ve been so harsh today. Nothing I did was good enough. I feel so worthless.”

Kuroo’s eyes softened with understanding as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. He responded by pulling you closer, cradling you against his chest. “I know, baby, I know,” he softly cooed. “You are not worthless, far from it.”

You clung to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, his scent and the feel of his body providing a much-needed sense of comfort. “I just don’t know how much more I can take,” you whispered, your tears soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“You don’t have to go through this alone, my love. I’m here for you always,” Kuroo reassured you, gently stroking your hair. “We will figure this out together, okay? You’re incredibly strong, and you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

You both stayed in each other’s arms for a while, Kuroo’s presence already calming the storm of emotions within you. After a few minutes, he gently pulled back and looked into your eyes.

“How about we take the evening to relax?” he suggested, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make dinner for us, and we can watch that show you like. Help you forget about work for a bit.”

You nodded, feeling a flicker of relief at the idea. You were so appreciative to have Kuroo in your life; he always knew how to make you feel better. “That sounds nice,” you said with a small smile, your voice steadier now.

Kuroo kissed your forehead and gave you one last big squeeze before getting up to prepare dinner. As he moved around the kitchen, you felt your sense of peace slowly returning.

Later that evening…

You and Kuroo were cuddled up on the couch with a cozy blanket draped over both of you. The soft glow of the TV illuminated the room as your favorite show played, and a spread of your favorite snacks lay on the coffee table in front of you.

You looked up at Kuroo. “Thank you for everything today,” you said quietly.

Kuroo tilted his head to meet your gaze, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “You don’t have to thank me, babe. I just want you to be happy,” he said, finishing the sentence with a soft kiss to your forehead.

You felt a surge of gratitude and love for him. “I am, especially with you.”

The comfort of Kuroo’s embrace and the familiar show made the troubles of the day fade away. With him by your side, you felt like you could get through anything.

[vesanal]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊The 16th Day of Writemas₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Heya again y’all! Another joyous day of writemas has come to greet us again! Here is the invite post if you have no idea what I’m talking about and here is where you can check out the prompts I am doing for today!! Today is a fun one! Hope ya like ;)

Prompts used:

(more than usual today)

Feeling: The stirring of darkness + The hiss of the wind(like at the very end lmao)

Dialogue: "Surrender, it is your only hope, your only salvation."

Setting: An altar

Since today is kinda spoookyyy I decided that this a great opportunity to introduce the Bone-Binder to y’all!! He’s sorta been this thing that people have just referred to in each of the writemasses so far, and today I aimed to actually show him and all of his evilness!

Read about the WIP here!!

Have fun reading!!

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

Gold, silver and other precious commodities adorned the strange room around them. It was like stepping into a portal and seeing into another dimension. Priceless materials laid at their feet, only at an arm’s reach. Lined along the edges of the room were candles, leading up to many more circling around paintings of a person.

An altar. Such a beautiful one, too. Yet, it was a gluttonous, sickening site for the group to take in. Completely dedicated entirely to the so called ‘one true King’ as it stated so loudly on each tapestry, sign, and painting. The same King that will soon enough have enough power between his bony claws to take over the Queen in rule and control Pytharios to restore true order to the world. They called him the Bone-Binder, from what one of them could read on the engravings of the golden plaque in front of them. 

Just outside of the cathedral in which they peered into, something stirred in the withered forest. The sounds kept creeping closer and closer to the doors behind them than any of them would have liked for an especially eerie night like this. One of them looked behind her, then all around, to make sure no one had followed them inside. It seemed to be safe enough for them to rest until it was too late.

Broken glass suddenly shattered into the air as a battalion of fully armed soldiers jumped down from the cathedral's roof windows and grabbed each member of the venturing wanderers. Every single one of adventurers were held back effortlessly, like they didn't even matter to them.

“Let us go! You have no quarrel with us! Please!“ One girl wailed, fearing for all of their lives.

The solider prevent her from her escape hissed into her ear, sneering, “Well, you’ll have to do better than that to live tonight, doll. We need lives like yours for our…cause, we shall say.”

“We are just simple travelers through the area, we meant no harm!” Another, this time a young boy, screamed out loud.

“You are encroaching upon our land. That is considered high treason by the standards of the Bone-Binder. “ The commander of the armed soldiers stated, holding up their spear to the crowd of hostaged innocent people.

Knocking loose suddenly from one of the soldier's death grip, one man pulled out a crude wand with small gemstones fixed from it’s neck to it’s tip. He held it up high so every solider in the room could watch him destroy them all, his look of determination intensifying. 

Immediately after casting the spell, though, something shot to his wand, creating a small explosion after it’s hit. Cracks formed all along the surface of the gemstones, causing each one to collapse into itself and fall apart into pieces, completely negating the spell it was casting. Falling to his knees involuntarily, he fell under control to a strange force that had just entered the room.

"Surrender, it is your only hope, your only salvation." A large cloaked figure spoke chillingly from the shadows, commanding the room around him in a cold tone. 

He put up his bone hands, only having tattered gray skin resume at his wrists from the abuse of his gem burning it off, to dismiss his soldiers from retaliation, as if he was allowing them to stand by his side and watch the real magic begin. Then, with one quick motion, each of them began to convulse with pain as the dazzling jewel at the end of his wand warped further and further, bending to do his bidding. 

Eventually, the movement stopped. No one in the room could move, even the soldiers who watched it all happen. Frozen cold from fear of what he might do next, the commander of the skeletal army quickly glanced over at the Bone-Binder. 

“Clean up the mess, you.” The Bone-Binder said, accompanied with an icy stare and a sinister grin growing across his gaunt, yet bare from any skin and musculature, face, “Now I have enough core power to invade across the Sunnes River, and make a quick stop by to see our old friends in Milev. What do you say, commander?”

As the Bone-Binder opened the door to the outside of the cathedral, the wind sent it’s final howl then came to a halt when it realized who it was dealing with.

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

(PLEASE tell me if you wanna get added to a tag list here because I genuinely don't know who to tag lol. I'll edit this and add you in!! <3 )

TAGLIST SO FAR: @sunflowerrosy @seastarblue

@thebookishkiwi @viridis-icithus @corinneglass

Our wonderful host <3 → @agirlandherquill Have a lovely day everyone!!

[lxvi-gloria]

Drabble Prompt: Post-canon Levi, struggling with chronic pain and mourning his dead loved ones, being visited by his still alive loved ones

Anon, you knew how to talk pretty to me <3

hihi requests are still open btw

I feel like I gotta put a disclaimer or something lmao. So, the length of my drabble requests is usually something between 100-400 words. This request is just an incredibly unexpected exception. it just happened to fit into this idea I already had been thinking of, which was how the remaining 104th would ask Levi to be part of important events in their lives because well, they like the dude lmao, so expect that sort of one-shot soon. Additionally, since I kept reminding myself that this was supposed to be a drabble, I might have glossed over the chronic pain and mourning bits so I'm sorry about that ;;

that being said, 2.4k words of Levi and Gabi be upon ye <3

Now on Ao3!

The angry hissing of the kettle makes him flinch. It brings a loud ringing to his right ear. Instinctively, he places his right hand over it, and gives his ear a couple of gentle taps; it's more of a grounding gesture, a distraction from the buzzing. He usually keeps watch over the kettle, so that he can lower the heat just right before it gets a chance to scream at him. 

He realises then that he must have spaced out while waiting. It’s alright, he thinks. It’s been like that a lot, recently. He’s been like that. Lost in thought-- lost in time, if he allowed himself to be precise. The last days, weeks even, as the temperatures started to drop, blended into each other. There’s a little calendar on his bedside table, it had been a birthday gift from Armin – or had that been Mikasa’s? He isn’t sure, he had received an absurd number of presents from the kids last year, it had been hard to keep track of who gave him what and now the fact escaped him. Turning the pages of the little calendar, with its delicate botanical illustrations on each day, quickly became part of his morning routine, and so he was sure that time was passing at all. The stillness of the routine, he guesses, made him like this.

His vision blurs momentarily while he scoops the tea leaves into the teapot. He squints, trying to will his good eye to focus, but all he gets in return is a throb in his right eye. After putting the tea canister away, he presses the inner sides of his wrists to both eyes, placing just enough pressure to relieve the discomfort. When he opens his eyes again, he is pleased to find he can read the small print on the canister an arm’s length away. 

There’s a loud slam coming from the front of the house, followed by footsteps coming further into the house.

He quickly recognizes the heavy stomping as Gabi’s gait. She’s always been so loud.

Gabi crosses the arch into the small kitchen and dining area. 

“Don’t slam my doors,” he says as a greeting, slowly turning his head to his left side, trying to catch a glimpse of her in his periphery.

“Aye, aye,” the kid waves her hand, shoots him a teasing grin, “someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

Levi hums in response but doesn’t say anything else. He busies himself with placing everything they need for their morning tea and coffee on a metal tray on the counter, which Gabi takes from him as soon as it’s ready and sets it on the table.

He grabs his cane from where he had hooked it on one of the kitchen drawers. He has been leaning against the counter, his right leg supporting most of his weight all this time. He braces himself for the sharp pain that will surely surge from his bad knee, through his left hip and up his spine. Cold mornings like this one and being still in one place for long will do that to him. It’s not so bad. It could be worse.

It takes 4 steps to get from the stove to his chair, which Gabi has already pulled out for him. It sits at an angle that allows him to easily slide down on it and rest his right elbow on top of the table, leaning back and against his good side.

“I have something that will cheer you up,” she holds a couple of envelopes in her hand and waves them at him, “You’ve got mail!”

He nods at her in acknowledgement but does not take his attention away from preparing his first batch of tea of the day. There’s a ritual to it, it almost feels like, and he doesn’t want to mess it up. Not when the ringing in his ear is still there, the building pressure in the upper back part of his eyeballs, and the cold air seeping into his bones through his thick jumper. Oh, how he needs a good cup of tea right now.

While Levi waits for it to steep, he grabs the papers that she had shoved in his face, squints his eyes at the first envelope and finds that he is unable to make out much of the handwriting. He brings it closer to his face, squints harder, steals a quick glance across the table and hopes Gabi isn’t paying him any mind, too preoccupied with choosing from the bag of pastries she brought with her. It is with an impassive expression that he hands the stack of envelopes back. 

“Read it for me.” A beat and then he adds, a little reluctant: “Please.”

He knows Gabi prefers coffee in the mornings, and black tea in the evenings, so he makes sure to have a fresh brew of the former whenever he knows she’s coming over; so, with shaky hands, Levi gets to prepare her cup of coffee. While he enjoys the aroma of it, he remains faithful to tea; at first, he thought he didn’t like it because he had butchered his first attempts at brewing it. But even after Onyankopon had taught him how to do it properly and he had enjoyed his cup, it didn’t bring the same comfort as tea. It just never hit the spot.

She shoots him a mischievous grin, “Oh, you sure? What if I read something personal, hm?” 

Levi just shakes his head, scoffing at the idea of Gabi finding his junk mail fascinating.

“Is this how I find out you have a secret lover you’re exchanging raunchy love letters with?” Gabi teases, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He lets out a tired sigh and rolls his eyes, “just wanna be done with it, ” he stirs the milk into Gabi’s coffee, which now has turned into a cup of milk with coffee. “We have a lot to prepare for tonight.”

She clicks her tongue at him, but still rips the first envelope open, “Mr. Levi, your reading won’t improve if you keep doing that,” she jokingly scolds him.

Although Levi mentally recognises handing her and Falco stuff he couldn’t be bothered reading before, that’s not the case this time. He’ll let her think that for now, though, because he doesn’t want to mention the pressure building in the back of his bad eye, it’s not important and she, a kid, doesn’t need to know his newly found ailment of the week. He can see just fine around him right now. He can see Gabi’s big eyes and playful smile at the other side of the table, and that’s good enough; smaller details, he doesn’t feel he can do them, not without making himself go dizzy with a migraine.

Levi slides the cup of coffee to her and is pleased with himself when she approves of the colour of her drink.

“It’s from Armin,” she announces as she scans the letter. 

From this angle, the soft morning light illuminating her face and thanks to his faulty vision, Gabi’s image stirs his memory. His heart faintly constricts as he is reminded of the many times Hange read their research reports to him during breakfast in the mess hall before presenting them to Erwin. Levi always wondered how they could read so fast, sometimes he even doubted they were actually reading at all, their words barely being able to catch up with her eyes; he never asked about it, maybe reading came easy to them as numbers did to him.

A high-pitched squeal from Gabi startles him, bringing him back to the here and now.

“Oh… ohh, Mr. Levi,” she starts, her smile widening by the second “This is good news!”

Gabi makes a show of clearing her throat and then starts reading “Dear Captain, I hope this letter finds you well and in good health.” 

Levi can’t help but let a sardonic huff at the irony of the greetings but doesn’t let himself be bothered by it. He has written only a handful of personal letters throughout his life, and by now he knows it’s just something you’re supposed to say because jumping straight to the point isn’t acceptable, or so that’s what he had been told. 

Gabi continues reading Armin’s words to him. For the most part, it’s a standard letter coming from him: he asks Levi how he’s dealing with the changing of the seasons, how Gabi and Falco are faring, if business at the tea shop has been good, if there’s anything Levi needs that he can’t get in town so that Armin or the others can get it for him. He tells him a little about the country he’s writing from, he even includes a photograph. Then, after the expected pleasantries, Gabi can barely hold her excitement and starts reading faster, trying so hard not to trip over her words.

“If I’m being sincere, we would prefer to ask you in person,” Gabi stops for a second to look up at him from the paper, gauging for a reaction and finding nothing, she continues. 

Armin apologises for not being able to visit him before the holidays, Annie included, and so it is implied that he won’t be attending tonight’s reunion. 

Sometime during the last five years, the Alliance brats had decided to make showing up at Levi’s doorstep together once a year a sort of custom; the first time it happened was during an early winter, a blizzard had stopped them from leaving Levi’s until the next morning. It had been a really nice evening despite the awful weather, Levi remembers, after everyone pitched in one way or another, they all shared a simple but hearty meal together. It was Connie who jokingly said they should do it every year. The following year, Onyankopon, Gabi and Falco joined them. 

This year would be their fourth, and the first someone wouldn’t make it. That fact sits heavily in Levi’s chest, stealing the spotlight from his throbbing eye.

“...Annie and I have decided to get married. The both of us would like you to officiate our ceremony!” unable to contain her excitement, she tears her eyes away from the paper and looks at Levi. “Huh?! This is good news! What’s with the constipated face?!”

That doesn’t sound right. It figures that Annie and Armin would be the first to marry; in a way, he is happy for them, they clearly care for each other. No, that part is easy to understand. Their union is logical to anyone who knows the couple. What Levi can’t figure out is why they are asking him such a thing.

He clears his throat, assumes it’s been 3 minutes and his tea is ready to be poured and so he distracts himself with that.

When he doesn’t answer Gabi, she picks up where she left off. 

He isn’t… well, he isn’t that close to either of them. He’s sure Annie must have other relatives that could step in his stead. Maybe a brother, a cousin. Even Jean or Reiner would be better options than Levi. He isn’t good with words or people like they are, he couldn’t possibly give them a speech about something foreign to him as it is that kind of love, that’s what people expect, right? His title of Captain is obsolete in this new world, so it can’t be that either. Hell, he has never been to a fucking wedding. 

Just… why him?

As expected, Armin doesn’t really go into the details of their choice but does let Levi know they do not expect a fast answer and that they do not want him to feel pressured to accept it, despite how much it would mean to them if he did. Armin asks if there’s anything in particular that he would like for his birthday, as it is a month away, and closes the letter by saying he looks forward to seeing him and everyone then.

When the letter is closed and put back into its envelope, silence falls around them. For a moment the only sound that can be heard is the clinking of tableware as Levi places the teacup back on its saucer.

It bothers him, that he knows he will be letting Armin down by refusing something that any other well-adapted person would consider an honour. But the thought of embarrassing him and himself, because he gave an awkward, most likely insensitive, speech, mortifies him. No, he can’t put them and their guests through that. He will find a way to make it up to the couple, maybe he can… he doesn’t know yet, but he will come up with something.

As he finishes his first cup, Levi realises that at some point while he was lost in thought, the ringing in his ear has subsided and now it’s back to that muffled, cotton-in-ear sensation he’s used to and he doesn’t feel his eyeball pulsating anymore. Glancing at Gabi, he notices she is trying really hard not to say something, her brow furrowed as she takes a sip of her own drink, followed by a big bite of her pastry. Flakes stick to the corner of her mouth and for once it doesn’t disgust him. Instead, it makes his lips twitch as if going into a smile.

“I can help you... if you want,” she says eventually, sounding uncharacteristically careful and small of her.

Levi quirks an eyebrow “Help? with what?” 

She shrugs, “How to… tell them you don’t want to,” she avoids looking at him for the first time, finding the flakes on her plate more interesting. She shrugs again and tilts her head to the side, a thin line of a smile appearing on her face. “...or prepare for the ceremony.”

Not unlike many times before, Gabi’s words render him speechless, if only for a moment. He spares his tea a glance and he thinks: it’s bold of her to be so upfront about offering her help to him, and had it been any other morning, one where he couldn’t think past the constant ache in his body, he would’ve chewed her head off for simply trying to help him because he himself doesn’t know how to accept that kindness.

This kid is trying her best and he can’t help but feel somewhat proud of that.

“You have shit on your face. Here,” he points to where the flakes would sit on his own face and picks his refilled teacup back up.

Gabi quickly wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, getting most of the flakes off. Levi gives her a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally concedes and tries to ignore the little happy dance she does in her seat.

This time, when the amber liquid touches his lips, it’s remarkably sweeter than before.

[fiapartridge]

REQUEST tbh idk how ur request work but I have an idea

Going to one of Luke’s games but it’s Toronto vs NJ and wearing a maple lefes jersey

And luke sees her and is banging on the glass to get ur attention and is like “off now”

Idk this idea popped in my head lmao

R U Mine? | luke hughes

"all i ever wanna say is, 'are you mine?'"

luke hughes x reader

summary: you wear a toronto maple leafs jersey to luke’s game and he can't help but wish you were wearing his...

warning(s): cursing

hiii @bibella8swan <3 hope u like mitch marner, if not, just imagine someone else LMAO + i really need to make a navigation with like a proper request/prompt system, im tryna be a pro tumblr writer gal

You loved Mitch Marner, like loved him. 

Having grown up in Toronto, your family loved hockey just as much as the next family— which was a lot. They watched every single Leafs game, went to every single Leafs signing, and they even had a shrine of Leafs memorabilia in your parents’ home office. To say they liked the Leafs was an understatement (honestly, they would probably tackle you if you said that)— they were obsessed. 

Luke knew you loved the Leafs. I mean, he lived next door to you for a good chunk of his life, how could he not know? It wasn’t like you were sporting all things Leafs whenever you were with him, but Luke paid enough attention to notice your dedicated Mitch Marner Pinterest boards and your number 16 lockscreen. Though you rarely ever said it out loud (honestly, I don’t think you’ve ever told Luke, let alone anyone else, about your love for Mitch), Luke knew— because Luke knew you. He noticed the little things, like the way you always needed to carry around a lint roller in your bag because you just knew there would be unwanted lint wherever you end up going, or the way you laughed at everything, even bad jokes, because you hated silence even more. 

When he moved to Michigan, you were scared that things were going to change between the two of you, but it never did. He was still your best friend, and you were still his. When he found out you were moving to New Jersey for college, he was ecstatic given that he had just gotten drafted to the Devils. 

Getting to spend more time with his best friend? It was the best news he had ever been given. Luke started planning out your guys’ lives in New Jersey the second you told him about your plans. Maybe you guys could share an apartment instead of him sharing one with Jack, and maybe you could go to all of his home games and cheer him on in the stands? 

Luke moved to New Jersey after Michigan’s loss in the Frozen Four, and while it was a bitter moment, knowing that he was finally going to see you made it not so terrible. 

When Luke arrived in New Jersey, it was like nothing had changed. The two of you spent every single day together, and there wasn’t a single moment when you guys weren’t laughing, or making fun of each other while laughing. You even got an apartment with him, just like he had planned. It was perfect. Maybe that was when Luke understood that his love for you was way beyond just friendship. Luke loved you. Quinn said that Luke had fallen in love with you the moment he saw you, but he just wasn’t bright enough to see it— I guess college did teach him a couple of things. 

After a few more months of living together, Jack had finally managed to slap some sense into the both of you after finding out that you were both going on Tinder dates and that none of you were happy. In fact, you two were miserable. Every single time you watched the other person walk out that front door in nice clothes and high expectations, you felt some part of yourself crumble to pieces. 

You hated the thought of someone getting to hold Luke’s hand or cuddle into his side, or even get the chance to kiss him. You had known Luke your entire life and some random girl from some stupid app that he had known for, what? An hour? Got to get closer to him than you? You hated that, and little did you know, Luke hated that, too.

Which brought you to where you were now: at Luke’s game against the Toronto Maple Leafs. 

You slipped into the front row, sitting beside Ryleigh and Brooke, as you got the most perfect view of Luke as he and the rest of the Devils skated onto the ice for warmups before the game. You were engaged in conversation with Brooke when you felt Ryleigh tap your shoulder repeatedly. Whipping your head in her direction, she pointed to the glass and said, “I think someone’s trying to get your attention,” she laughed. 

When you looked toward the glass, you saw Luke banging against the clear pane. You were confused, to say the least. It wasn’t unusual for Luke to give you some sort of attention during warmups, like a simple wave, or a small smile, but for him to be banging on the glass? It had to be important. 

“Off," he nodded his head at you. "Now.”

You furrowed your brows. What was he talking about? You squinted your eyes, signaling that you had no idea as to what he was referring to. 

Luke pinched his jersey, pulling it up and down, and you immediately knew what it was. You were wearing a Marner jersey. What did he think was going to happen? The love of your life was on that ice— of course you were going to wear his jersey! But then again, the love of your life was banging on the glass, getting a million stares from Devils fans and Leafs fans alike, just so he could gain some comfort knowing that you were in that crowd, wearing his jersey. 

You didn’t quite understand that, though. You wondered why it was so important to Luke. I mean, you wore his jersey to every single home game. It was one game against a team you loved. What was the big deal?

You shrugged him off, shooing him to go back to the others when you heard the siren go off, signaling that it was time for the game to start. He shook his head and skated off to the Devils’ bench. 

The first period was… definitely something.

Luke got the puck a lot, but he also missed the puck… a lot. He skated around the ice like a lost puppy, and you bit your nails, wondering if it really was the jersey that was bothering him. It didn’t seem like a big deal to you. You’ve loved Mitch Marner since the concept of crushes even came to you. The Maple Leafs were your team. What was so wrong with that?

During the intermission, you sprang out of your seat and marched over to the direction of the locker rooms. The Rock was like a second home to you. You knew the place like the back of your hand which made it so much easier to get to Luke— because you needed to get to Luke before the second period started. You needed to know why it was taking such a toll on him. 

When you walked towards the hall of the locker rooms, your eyes met Luke’s and he immediately ran over to you, or rather hobbled to you, on his skates. On his way over, his right hand fished for the bottom of his jersey as he pulled it over his head in one clean motion. God, it was the hottest thing you had ever seen. 

“Take this,” he said, still out of breath from the game. 

You shook your head. “That thing is full of sweat, Luke.”

“Then let me grab you a clean one from my stall,” he suggested before turning around.

You scoffed, grabbing his wrist and swiveling him back towards you. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

You rolled your eyes. “The last time you said that, you were pissed off that Jack got the last slice of pizza and the next time you got pizza, you added olives because you knew Jack hated them. It’s not nothing, Luke.”

He looked everywhere but you, because he knew you’d read him like a magazine. He knew that he could never hide a single thing from you, because just as he had paid attention to you, you had paid attention to him. You knew him, and deep down, you knew why the jersey was such a big deal to Luke, but you wanted to hear him say it. 

You wanted Luke to call you his. 

His shoulders relaxed for the first time since intermission started, and his eyes finally met yours. “I know you love Mitch. You always have, and that’s never been a problem, and it never will be, but… I wanted you to pick me.”

You narrowed your brows, stepped closer to the boy you loved so much, and you whispered almost tauntingly, “Why should I pick you?”

He bent down, held the sides of your face, and crinkled his eyes in nothing but cringe. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Gosh, I think Mitch is calling my name,” you frowned. 

He shook his head, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “For some fucking reason, I love you, Y/N, and I want you to wear my jersey, I’m begging you to wear my jersey, because as selfish as this sounds, I need to know that you’re not Marner’s, and you’re not the Leafs’ — you’re mine. I want you… to be mine.”

Your face broke into a bright smile. “Fucking finally,” you laughed, pushing him off of you and towards the locker room. “Give me the damn jersey, Hughes, intermission ends in seven! Also,” you pulled him back. “I love you, too.”