#that these years that you had worked towards were just a little idk... empty

[greyedian]

Pentiment soundtrack my beloved <3

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Just got this idea and it made me cry ok so for 141+König where the reader suddenly walks up to him and just kisses and holds him while crying cause they love him so much and they panicked at the thought of losing him maybe sth happened and they got scared or maybe they were just thinking about it idk FUCK I love them so much can't bear the thought of anything happening to them 😭💔

141 + Königs Reactions To You Crying For/Over Them

Warnings: swearing, crying, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, angst

Simon Ghost Riley-

You hadn’t been able to find Simon all day. You chalked it up to the both of you being busy on base, but usually you’d always caught a glimpse of him throughout the day.

You had a gnawing feeling at your chest, but weren’t able to act upon it until later that night. You found Simon on the rooftop of base, staring up at the night sky as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“I thought you quit smoking.” You teased, slowly walking up to him.

When Simon didn’t give his usual witty remark in reply, you knew something was wrong. His eyes remained glued to the stars, and you could see that his eyes were red.

“Simon, are you okay?” You asked, your hand resting on top of his in a comforting gesture. “Talk to me.”

Simon tore his eyes away from the sky, and flicked his cigarette over the railing. “It’s the anniversary today.”

“Anniversary?” You asked, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s been 6 years since they died.” Simon said, his voice hoarse from crying.

“Your family?” You asked, giving his hand another squeeze. In the years you’d been together, Simon had only talked about his family a few times, and you were never one to press the subject. Simon was a reserved man, and you’d don’t want to push your luck with that.

But Simon told you everything that night. Every little detail of his life when he was a child. The kind of man his father was. How his family was murdered and that the only thing he could do for them was to get revenge. No detail was spared, and once he was done speaking, Simon found a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He’d finally let someone in.

He took a breath, and looked up at you to find you sobbing. You didn’t know what to do, other than throw yourself into Simon’s arms, gripping around his waist at tight as you possibly could.

“Simon, I am so, so sorry you’ve gone through that. I don’t know.. I don’t know what to say other than I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.” You cried into his chest. “I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

“I know, kid.” He said, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. “I know.”

John MacTavish-

You awoke in a cold sweat, breathing rapidly as you blinked away hot tears. You’d just had the worst nightmare. You were out on a mission, when Johnny was killed right in front of you. The dream felt so real, and your heart was aching at the very real possibility that you could lose him on a mission.

You looked next to you, and found Johnny’s side of the bed cold and empty. It was clear he hadn’t been in bed for some time.

You threw the covers off of you, throwing one of Johnny’s hoodies on before making your way toward the gym- somewhere you knew he would be at this hour.

You breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you laid eyes on Johnny. He’d worked up quite the sweat, and it was clear he’d been here for some time.

Your legs reacted before your brain could catch up, and you found yourself grabbing Johnny by the collar of his shirt and roughly placing your lips on his.

You pulled back, breathless as you looked up as Johnny with tears in your eyes. He immediately frowned, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart. Are you alright?” His hands rubbed at your arms soothingly.

“I- I had a dream. You were gone and there was nothing I could do.” You sobbed, rubbing away at your tears as your eyes drifted to the floor. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Johnny pulled you close to him, his arms holding you tight against his chest as he pressed kisses along your temple. “I’m here, Bonnie. It was just a dream. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I couldn’t sleep.”

“It felt so real.” You said, pulling away. “I.. I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you. I just.. I can’t even comprehend it.”

“Then don’t. Because I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep coming back to you, okay?” Johnny asked, lifting your chin up so that your eyes met his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled in return, rubbing your teary eyes against his shirt causing Johnny to chuckle softly. “Let us get back to bed, yeah?”

“I’m not even tired anymore.” You mumbled, not pulling your face from Johnnys chest.

“Well, it’s a good thing a beds good for more than just sleeping, eh?” Johnny threw you a cheeky smile, before lifting you in his arms. “Gotta show my babe I’m not going anywhere.”

John Price-

Everything happened so fast. One minute, John was by your side as a hail of bullets rained down on the two of you in the field. The next, John was halfway across the field, oblivious to the enemy behind him. It was a blur, the man raised his gun, and proceeded to shoot John in the chest.

“John!” You shrieked, watching as the man you love fell to the ground. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest as your brain started to malfunction. Nothing else around you in that moment mattered. He couldn’t die, not like this. He couldn’t leave you.

You sprinted across the field, ignoring the shouts of the other soilders around you, your eyes welling with tears as John’s frame came into view.

You skidded to your knees, your hands immediately reaching for John’s face.

“John!” You whimpered, your eyes skimming down the length of his body.

“Baby, hey. It’s okay. The vest caught it. It just knocked the wind out of me.” John reached out to grab your hands, trying to calm you down, to no avail.

Your hands continued to frantically pull at his vest, you needed to see he was truly unharmed with your own eyes. “No! No you got shot!”

John grasped your hands in his gently, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You blinked away tears, your bottom lip wobbling as you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. “I thought I lost you.”

“I hope you know it’s going to take a lot more than a stray bullet to keep me from you.” John said, before capturing your lips in his. “I promise you I’m okay, alright?”

You nodded, pulling away to help John to his feet. With one final firm kiss, the two of you finished out the mission, neither one of you straying too far from the other.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You twiddled your thumbs anxiously, your eyes darting back to the front door of the base every few minutes, praying Kyle would walk through the door.

141 was expected back three days ago, and according to Laswell they’d gone radio silent the day they were supposed to come back.

You choked back a sob, burying your face into your arms. You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if Kyle never came back. He was your everything.

You slowed your breathing, trying to regain your composure when the click of the front door caught your attention. Your head jumped up, your heart immediately skipping a beat as Kyle and the rest of the 141 walked through the front door, looking a little worse for wear.

Without a second of hesitation, your legs moved faster than they ever had in your life as you slammed yourself into Kyle, your arms encompassing his waist in a firm grip.

Your relationship wasn’t common knowledge, so Kyle was quite surprised when you made such a public display of affection, but it wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest. His squeezed you in return, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here, babe. It’s okay.”

“They kept saying you weren’t coming back. That you were all dead.” You cried softly, burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest. “I was so scared.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. Everything’s going to be okay.” He promised, holding you tighter. “I’ve got you.”

The two of you remained inseparable for the remainder of the day, neither one of you taking your eyes off each other.

König-

It was no secret that König wasn’t the most popular person on base. Between his height, the frightening mask he wore, and his timid nature, he wasn’t known for making many friends.

It’d come as a shock to the majority of the people on base when it was announced that you and König were a couple.

You’d heard the whispers of course, just as König did. The rude comments thrown about him behind his back, unbeknownst to you, had König’s self esteem plummeting.

You didn’t find out until late one night when you found your boyfriend alone in the weapons locker, looking the most upset you’d ever seen him.

“Babe? You weren’t at dinner, is everything okay?” You asked, pausing a few paces in front of him. You’d never seen him like this and you were unsure of how to react.

“I’m a freak, Maus.” König spoke, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him. “No matter what I do, no matter how good I am out on the field, no matter how well I follow orders… I’ll always be the outcast.”

Your heart shattered at his words, hot tears forming in your eyes as you stepped closer to him. “König, that’s not true.”

König finally looked up at you, a solemn expression on his face- something you never wanted to see on your lover again. “It is. I know you’ve heard what they say. I’m a monster. I’m weird. I look more like the villain than the hero. It’s all things I’ve told myself before.”

“Look at me.” You said, crouching before him. You quickly wiped away the stray tears that began to fall as you spoke. “You are not any of those things. Those people are fools. They haven’t gotten to know the man underneath the mask. On the field, you’re the battering ram. A powerhouse. The perfect weapon. But off the field? You’re the best fucking person I know.”

You pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back soothingly. “I love you so much König. If I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you how great of a person you are.”

“I don’t deserve you Maus.” He murmured, squeezing you tighter. “But I thank god every day you’re in my life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: ahh not super happy with this turned out- I’m not sure if I captured this request the best🥺

Excited to keep putting out the next few requests. Thank you again everyone for all your support❤️

[mrsmikaelsxn]

What Did You Do

masterlist

pairing: tom riddle x female reader, voldemort x female reader

warnings: angst, tiny bit of fluff

summary: throughout your years at hogwarts, you and tom were inseparable, now as a professor you see what happened to him at the battle of hogwarts - requested by anon

a/n: i'm going to age down voldemort and the reader (meaning because mcgonagall is a little younger than voldemort, the reader would be so old lmao. so i'm just imagining the reader is like remus' age, it wont affect the time line, idk if that makes sense sorry)

song: the night we met - lord huron

Tom was brilliant, so were you. You were both the top of your classes since your first year at Hogwarts.

That's how you two started talking. You would be partnered with each other in most of your classes, you made an excellent pair.

Throughout the years there, you two had grown a bond. Eventually, you both had feelings for each other.

You knew of your affections towards him, you didn't tell him because you didn't want to ruin your close friendship. But Tom had been in a sort of denial, seeing as how he was conceived under a love potion, he didn't think it was possible.

Around your sixth year, he had come to terms with how he felt. You two had confessed to each other after one of Slughorns dinner parties, he had attended as your date.

It came as a shock to most students when the news of you getting together spread.

They had know he had a soft spot for you, but he had never shown any romantic feelings towards anyone before.

It was seventh year and Tom had confessed to you of his plans and becoming Lord Voldemort.

He asked you to join him and be his partner but you couldn't. It was wrong and you knew it, he knew it deep down too.

You figured this was caused by his horrible childhood at the orphanage, he told you all about how he was treated.

He asked you one final time to join or he would have to continue without you.

You stood there in front of him with tears streaming down your face as you shook your head.

He wanted to wipe the tears from your beautiful face, but he knew it would make him tempted to give up the plans he worked so hard for.

So he turned his back on you and left you behind while you cried and begged him to stop what he was doing.

After that night, you hadn't seen him again.

"Harry!" you call your student, a student who was like a son to you.

You knew of how he got his scar, as did everyone else. It broke your heart each time you thought of what had caused it.

"Harry, be safe, I'll be right behind you," you kiss his head. He goes and runs off to find Voldemort as students and staff start to fill the courtyard and go into a circle.

You quickly walked through the empty halls of Hogwarts, making sure there were no student that needed help.

You finally went outside and saw Harry and Voldemort in a duel.

You gasp at how he looks, this wasn't your Tom. You hadn't seen how he looked since that night so long ago.

You rush over ignoring the calls of people to stop.

"Tom! Stop this!" you yell with angry tears forming in your eyes.

Voldemort blocks Harry's spell and sends one to knock him out for a little while he drops his arm to look at you.

People watching were frozen in their places as they took in the scene in front of them. There were very few people who were aware of your past relationship with Tom.

"Y/n."

"What did you do," you cry. He almost winces at the pain in your voice.

He slowly walks over to you and stops about three feet from you.

"I got the power I've always desired," he explains in a monotone voice.

"Tom... we could have had a future together, look what you've become," you whisper.

"You didn't wish to join me, you didn't expect me to drop everything I've worked for, did you?"

"Yes, I did, because you could have and I would have done the same for you," you try your best to keep your voice from cracking.

He knows you're right. He couldn't look you in your eyes. He looks around at the faces watching as he tries to not think about how beautiful you still are.

You had grown into a stunning woman, and well, he felt embarrassed by what he had come to.

"Stop!" Voldemort shouts, annoyed at his now conflicted emotions.

He feels tempted to stop and apparate you and him somewhere to stay, like how you always dreamed of.

He couldn't, not now. He decided an apology was the only thing he could do, as he went to apologize to you, he suddenly felt pain all over.

He turned his head to see Harry with his wand pointed at him. It was then you both realized he was truly gone.

As he starts to turn to stone, he uses all the energy left in him to look at you, in the eyes this time.

He watches as so many emotions flash through your eyes. He memorized your features in the few seconds he has.

You look at Voldemort on his knees, almost all stone. You see him mouth something, it looks like 'I'm sorry', but you can't be sure.

You watch as he looks you dead in the eye, finally turning completely to stone and dissolving into nothing.

People around you start cheering and hugging as they all celebrate.

Harry turns to you and sees the devastated look on your face.

"I'm sorry that you lost him," Harry says as he hugs you, "not Voldemort, but Tom," he continues.

"I'm sorry too, but you're safe, along with everyone else," you sigh, "that's all that matters," you kiss his forehead and hug him back.

It took you a while to finally accept that Tom- Voldemort, was gone.

Things slowly got back to normal. Hogwarts was rebuilt and repaired. You continued your teaching career there.

You were sat in your room, in a cottage where you and Tom were supposed to be living.

You decided that if he couldn't be there to live life, you would do it for the both of you.

You pick up some letters he would send you when you were dating, you had saved them all. You look at the box and see one that hasn't been opened. Your eyebrows furrow as you open it. Then, a tear slides down your face as you read it.

My y/n,

If you are reading this, that means I have become Lord Voldemort, and am likely dead now.

I need you to understand that I am not the Tom you once knew. I also need you to understand that I have regretted walking away from you each and every day since I did so.

You were my family, my love, my everything.

I'm sorry I threw that away for power. I know now that it is far too late to go back.

I wish I could though, and spend life with you in that place you always use to tell me about. Unfortunately, it isn't possible. But know that if it was, I would take that opportunity in a heartbeat.

Stay true to yourself, don't turn your back on the people you love, I regrettably made that mistake.

You are a beautiful person, my love, I hope you accomplish all of the things you use to rant to me about.

Please forgive me.

Yours always,

Tom Riddle

[faithisyours]

Something to Tell

Azriel x Ace Fem!reader

Summary: You and Azriel are recently mated. You decide to take things slow, but you have something personal to tell Az.

Warnings: coming out, fluff

Word Count: 965

A/N: Sup y’all. Sorry I’ve been absent, a lot of shit happened. Anyways, I really just wrote this one for me. I think the topic of asexuality is really left out of this book series and fandom, understandably so, but I think it would be an interesting subject to discuss, so I’m here to fulfill my own wishes. Given the lore and rules around mates, I don't even know if this could be considered a thing, but I’m gonna try my hardest to make it a thing for my ace baddies out there. IDK if I’m gonna make this a series or not (probably won’t), but maybe see how people like it before making decisions. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to tell me. As always, minors gtfo. Adults, you enjoy!

You’re just finishing up bottling an allergy tonic for your neighbor’s son when the door to your apothecary opens, the bell above ringing out. You know exactly who it is, and you are simultaneously filled with dread and relief. Azriel, your freshly bonded mate, walks into the back room where you are working, his big Illarian boots creaking the floorboards wherever he steps. When you look up to greet him he gives you a soft smile, a smile you return.

You’ve known Azriel for a little over a year now, ever since Mor begged him to come pick up her sleeping tonic from you because she had been busy. But the bond haden’t snapped for either of you until roughly a month ago, when you were out drinking at Rita’s with the inner circle, per Nesta’s invite. Over the years you had grown close with the inner circle, specifically Mor and Nesta. What had started out as small talk when they came to pick up a tonic had blossomed into a beautiful friendship.

But the last thing in the world you had wanted to happen was to form a bond with someone, especially someone as good and sweet and caring as Azriel. Sure, he is beautiful, you of all people can see that, but the physical attraction stops there, like it always does. Emotionally you two are very compatible, sharing similar interests in books, music, and dancing. After the bond had snapped you both decided to take things slowly, moreso for your sake than his. Every day you grow more and more in love with him; you’re just terrified to see the disappointment and confusion in his eyes after you tell him you’re ace.

“Almost ready to go, Love?” Azriel asks, his eyes following the skilled movements of your hands.

“Almost done,” you respond, screwing the cap and writing the label onto the bottle quickly. You buss your wok table, putting away ingredients and empty bottles. You look over everything twice more, checking for anything out of place, but also as a means to stall. You are dreading this conversation.

“Looks good, Love. Want me to grab your coat?” You turn to him, a small smile on your lips, and grab his hand, gently cradling it in yours.

“Actually… Can I talk to you for a minute before we leave? I need to tell you something.”

“Ya, of course,” he squeezes your hand gently, reassuringly. “What’s up?” You take a deep breath and guide him to sit in one of the chairs at your work table, then pull one towards yourself so you're sitting in front of him. You take both his hands in yours. You don’t make eye contact but instead stare at your hands intertwined.

“There’s something I need to tell you about myself and I need you to listen and let me explain before you say anything,” you look up to see him nodding, a look of concern and confusion on his face. The knot in your stomach is twisting. Your anxiety is through the roof, but you take a deep, albeit shaky, breath to steady yourself.

“Okay. I don’t really know how to go about saying this so I’m just gonna say it. I’m asexual, which means I form little to no sexual attraction, in my case none at all, to anyone. Which means the likelihood of me wanting to have sex with you is basically zero. I know it’s kind of a thing for mates to do it all the time, and so I thought since I am the way I am that I would never form a bond with anyone, but I guess I was wrong. And I know you're probably thinking, “well, didn’t the bond snapping make you feel anything like that?” and the answer would be no. Umm…I guess I just want to add and say that I’m not broken, and that life will be a little different with me, and that I know my boundaries, but I’m also willing to try things with you because I love you and trust you… And this doesn’t mean I don't find you attractive, because I do, I think you're really pretty, but it's more in a ‘I want to paint you’ sort of way instead of an ‘I want to fuck you’ sort of way. And I’m rambling so I’m going to stop now.”

Your leg is bouncing up and down, gaze still glued to your entwined hand. A beat of silence passes, and then he squeezes your hands, which in turn makes you look up at him. His eyes are full of understanding and love, emotions you were not expecting to see. You exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling some of your anxiety fade away.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. You roll your eyes at him, the last of your anxiety washing away. He stands and pulls you up to do the same. He releases one of your hands, using his to brush a rouge strand of hair behind your ear, then pulls you into a tight embrace. You’re taken off guard, but you melt into him, breathing in his crisp, piny scent.

“Thank you for telling me,” he squeezes you tighter. “And I know you said life will be different with you and I want to let you know I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, and I know we can work through any problems we may face. You are perfect. Cauldron boil me if I ever so much as think to change a single thing about you.”

And with that, he releases you from his embrace, you wipe the few tears that had welled at his words, and you go home.

[bbyblair]

small touches, pink cheeks. 

charles leclerc x f!reader 

pt.2!

 *ੈ✩‧₊˚

a/n: this is the first fic i’ve ever written so please excuse any mistakes or errors in my writing! Any tips are welcomed and very appreciated. hope you guys enjoy this! let me know if anyone would like a part two. <3

summary: the start of the 2023 season, Bahrain in early march. you'd recently joined the sky team, working as a news reporter and interviewer for your beloved sport.it's your first week and a mix of nerves and anticipation swirl together in your stomach. you're giddy to finally meet who you’d be working with for the next few months… but what happens when an instant connection sparks up between the new girl and Ferrari's golden boy? 

warnings: light cursing, kind of angst? idk. sort of enemies to lovers? reader is annoyed at Charles :(

word count: 1.8k

thursday, march 2nd 2023. 

a small breeze creeps through your window and goosebumps arise on your skin. you can hear your alarm angrily blaring on your phone, but you hadn't woken up yet fully and your brain was still in a haze. suddenly your eyes snap open as you realise what day it is. it's race week and you should be heading off to the airport in around three hours, shit. 

you sigh the same dramatic sigh you had been doing since you were a little girl and roll your eyes. contemplating whether or not to risk another five minutes of blissful sleep. luckily you come to your senses before making that grave mistake. your feet pad lightly across your bedroom floor and into the bathroom, you pause and look around your room realising that from now on you're going to be on the move for a solid 6 months. it's worth it though, this career you had been working toward since you were in high school, and you're proud of yourself to have finally got here. 

the cool shower water finished off the job of waking you up and after spending a little too much time getting ready you were packed and heading off to the airport. 

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

the flight went quickly, considering the ample amounts of work you had to complete before landing, but you managed to get it all done on the plane with a little bit of rushing. you hadn't had time to travel much during your childhood or during college so you were practically squealing with excitement when you emerged from the plane and began your journey to the hotel you were staying in. 

the taxi was stuffy and warm, and your excitement started to be replaced with nerves as you realised that soon you would be in the heat of the paddock, meeting with very important people and drivers. 

you always had a natural ability to make people feel comfortable and this helped you in becoming an interviewer, plus the three years of journalism school you just about survived. It had been a wild ride, but you were finally here, in bahrain, about to be introduced to your new life. 

after getting yourself set up in your hotel and ready for the rest of the afternoon you began making your way over to the race venue. it was huge, but empty due to the fact that the race was in a few days. The only people around were a few race engineers and team members who were discussing strategy for the upcoming race. you were looking for someone in particular, your boss who you'd met before in london. stumbling through the paddock you finally found where the sky hq was situated and after making quick friends with the rest of your interviewing team, some of whom you knew from back home, you all decided to go out for some drinks. 

the night moved fast and before you knew it you were making your way back to the hotel at an unreasonably late time and collapsed onto the bed, tiredness taking over your whole body. 

friday , march 3rd 2023. 

regret washed over your body as you woke up in your hotel room, your alarm blaring at you at a completely unreasonable time. you swiftly began getting ready for the day ahead, your first day. nerves overtake your body again completely during your short walk to the circuit, it was already swarming with fans, ready to watch the free practice after missing their sport for a few months. the staff entrance was hidden away and luckily not too busy, so you managed to sneak in on time. 

you greeted your team who you'd already become quick friends with yesterday and they began briefing you on the timing of the day and when you would be interviewing the drivers. you had been told that this morning you were meant to go over to the ferraris section of the paddock and conduct a fun interview with leclerc and sainz. some silly questionnaire to test their knowledge of one another by asking them some, in your opinion, very personal questions. of course you smiled heartily and agreed, after all this was your job and you were excited to meet all of the drivers, having loved f1 since you were little. 

you made your way over to the ferrari area, and you and the filming crew were kindly greeted by their pr team who directed into a room and informed you that the two drivers would be there shortly. nerves started to bubble up in your stomach, even though you were confident and knew that you were good at your job sometimes meeting new people stressed you out a little more than you liked to admit. 

shuffling and muffled voices were heard outside of the door and the suddenly it opened and you were greeted with two handsome faces, both smiling politely at you and they outstretched their hands for you to take. you quickly grabbed the spaniards hand and shook it. 

“mr sainz, its a pleasure to meet you, im y/n im going to be hosting your interview today.”

his smile grew a little wider and he chuckled, “please call me carlos, and its lovely to meet you too y/n.” you blushed a little at how he said your name in his accent and smiled at him. your eyes then landed on the monegasque next to you, his smile remained on his face but his eyes were unreadable and intimated you a little bit. his eyes raked over your form and then he also outstretched his hand. his grip was much firmer than carlos’ and he began speaking before you. 

“charles, I'm looking forward to working with you y/n.” his eyes then returned to their initial softness and his grip loosed. you were a little taken aback but quickly composed yourself. you just simply nodded your head in response and softly spoke out a small “me too.”

that interaction stumped you, and you were clearly flustered but the rest of the interview went smoothly and you had played the quiz game, the two men laughing throughout and their childish rivalry entertained you more than you liked to admit. but throughout the interview you had felt charles' eyes on you more than once. once you dared to meet his gaze, but as soon as you did he quickly looked ack at his teammate and continued with the game nonchalantly. 

maybe you were just making this up, you didn't know. but no one had ever looked at you the way charles did and it made an odd feeling rise up in your stomach.after the interview ended the two men shook your hand again and began to leave, having to get ready for free practice which was starting in a few hours.

the filming crew packed up and left. you turned your back and let out a sigh at the odd experience. shuffling through your bag for your phone you heard someone clear their throat behind you and your body snapped back and spun around. to your surprise charles was stood their. the same unreadable expression on his face which made your cheeks burn straight away. you looked around awkwardly, silence engulfed the room and you didn't know if you should say something to the driver or stay silent. his voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

“sorry, i didnt mean to scare you.” he chuckled softly and his eyes creased, easing your nerves a little. the hint of his accent poked through his words, it was very attractive you had to admit. 

“no , no its okay, can i help you with anything?” your voice came out harder than you imagined and more agitated than you felt. his expression hardened again and his smile fell, he shook his head. 

“sorry, i just thought i forgot my phone.”

you stood there and looked about the room. you felt the atmosphere in the room change and as you looked at him more closely you could see the outline of his phone in his jean pocket. he didn't know you had noticed, and you were confused as to why he was really here. not wanting to drag on this interaction longer than needed you quickly picked up your bag and began to walk toward the door. 

“I hope you find it.” you mumbled out. 

suddenly his body was blocking the doorway and you stopped a few feet away from him. your face burning red and confused about his behaviour. “you are not going to help me look?” he smiled and a sneakily glint in his eye made your heart skip a beat. was he flirting with you? you were very up to date with the gossip and knew he had a suspected girlfriend so his behaviour was even more shocking to you. 

“oh sorry.” you mumbled dumbly, not knowing what to say. you knew he had his phone and you weren't about to embarrass yourself by crawling all over the floor looking for it. 

“i've got to edit this interview i'm afraid, so if you wouldn't mind letting me pass.” you looked down at the ground as you spoke and mentally cursed yourself at the fact that your voice came out much weaker than you intended. 

“okay.” you could hear the smile in his voice, “i apologise ma douce.” my sweet. you didn't know what he had just called you but the french nickname paired with his voice made your heart sway and even more blush burned on your cheeks. he moved from the doorway with a charming smile and allowed you to pass through. 

your feet felt like jelly underneath you but somehow you carried yourself through the paddock back to your work area, a smile gracing your pretty features at what had just happened. but you couldn't allow anything to happen and you knew that, he had a girlfriend and it was your job to interview him. this is so wrong you told yourself. sliding a hand over your face to try to compose yourself, you began to start editing the interview. 

you paused in shock, watching over the footage you saw how charles gaze almost never left you throughout the whole interview. he was starting at you like an animal and you didn't know why. shock graced your features even more to see how he clearly was checking you out and when you spoke to carlos, his eyes even darkened in a overprotective manner. who was he to get so possessive over you? you had just met? anger started to replace the feelings of shock and you wanted to storm back into ferrari to give him a piece of your mind… 

┊┊┊┊ ➶ ❁۪ ｡˚ ✧

pt2?

[writerlyhabits]

Ration Packs

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: based on this request...

“I’m guessing it’ll be ration packs for dinner?” you added, nodding towards the empty satchel hanging from his hip.  “There wasn’t a market on the way back to the ship,” he almost pleaded, trying to explain his intentions, but you simply gave him a tight-lipped nod in acknowledgment.  “I’ll get the packs started so it's ready by the time you’ve unloaded.” Your voice lacked its usual kindness. This shift in the conversation had you speaking with him as if this were all just… business. Had he pushed you too far? Were you trying to remind him that he had hired you to be here? That he should be keeping things… professional? Fuck. This was why he worked alone.  

Warnings: mild language, miscommunication [but not in a horrible way, don’t worry, I’m better than that], young dumb in love din djarin, mild angst, angst with a happy ending, everything is in Din’s pov because i love his dumbass train of thought, idk it’s pretty soft

AN: oh my god i’m back from the dead! I told you guys i’d be back 😂 This request has been sitting in my inbox for probably about a year… and I have no end of apologies, but i’m finally done and it’s a miracle I don’t hate it 😂 I did change the prompt a little… the idea of them putting Grogu to bed was cute, but I had an idea for a younger Din and just fell in love with it, so i ran with that. I hope you guys enjoy 💖 Thank you @deceiver-of-gods for putting up with me all this time, ily 😘

Din had traveled through the toughest parts of the galaxy without batting an eye. He’d run with a mercenary group and proven himself to have more skills, more hits, more value… and more of a moral compass than anyone else in the group. After fighting his way out of their grip, he had taken out high-level targets with ease to earn his way into the Bounty Hunters guild. Din continued to be not only one of the youngest of their ranks, but also the most highly sought after. And after all of that? 

You were his greatest challenge. 

His Razor crest had taken one too many hits for him to be able to repair on his own, and the costs of repairs on his pre-imperial ship were starting to eat into the funds he usually gave back to his covert. Not providing for them was not an option; the Beroya was supposed to send their spoils back to the covert to provide for those in hiding. This is the way…

So when he landed on a planet with lush, colorful flora, and a generally trusting local people, he least expected you to strike a bargain with him. He needed a mechanic, and you wanted a ticket out. Free boarding and transportation in exchange for a live-in repair crew, he just had to get you the parts. It was his perfect solution. He hired you on the spot and scheduled to ship out as soon as the Crest was back in working order. 

On that first day of travel, Din had only just entered hyper-speed when he became overly critical of his ship. The cold, metal surfaces of the hull were uninviting, full of sharp edges, and devoid of any personality. It didn’t take him much longer to realize that, to an outsider, his armor looked much the same. 

But he’d never seen it that way before. To him, the Mandalorian armor was a sign of home, of belonging. It had been his savior in his childhood, and a beacon of his people as he grew into his own. He had tucked away into coverts where the blank metal lining of their ships and their walls meant protection. 

But you were not Mandalorian. You hadn’t grown up around sharp edges and cold surfaces. The place you called home was filled with warm colors and soft curves, the buildings made to flow with the organic structures of the nature around them, letting in the bright sunlight necessary for its growth. You yourself walked with an elegance Din was unfamiliar with, treading softly on the ground and smiling brightly at him each time your kind eyes met his dark visor. You had shared your warmth with him since the moment he’d met you, despite the coldness he was certain he portrayed, and it surprised him how much he found himself drawn to it. Drawn to you. 

You were everything he wasn’t. But Din would do everything in his power to make sure you never came to regret agreeing to this strange setup, that you never felt isolated or alone because you’d chosen him – a walking wall of cold beskar – as your traveling companion. 

At first, he’d merely wanted to bring you things that reminded him of your home, things he thought might do the same for you. Anytime he was in a market passing through, either on a supply run or with a bounty in tow, he found something colorful to bring back to you. The first few had been small trinkets, things you could keep in the small cupboard you had decided to call your quarters, or delicate pieces of jewelry he would later catch you wearing around the ship. 

The feeling Din got seeing you wear something he gave you made something warm swell inside of him… It made it hard to come back to the ship empty-handed, especially with the promise of your soft smile when he held his hand to you with a new gift. 

On one of his trips, he’d brought back a woven tapestry; the craftsmanship had been beautiful, and the colors matched those of the outfits you wore the most around him. Din was about to launch into an apology when he first gave it to you, not having thought about where you would even be able to put it, but his statement was cut short when you happily grabbed it from him and turned on your heel to find something. 

Not even a few moments later, you returned with a handful of powerful magnets you’d picked up on a market a few planets back, and he watched as you excitedly hung the artwork from one of the walls in the Crest’s hull, creating a curtain in front of one of the panels on that wall – you must have thought it was as ugly as he did. 

“What do you think?” You had asked him, and he watched self-consciousness start to creep in now that your initial excitement was starting to wear off. 

“It looks good,” he’d replied a little stiffly, still having a hard time finding the courage to speak around you. A bounty hunter, with hundreds of captures under his belt, was still too shy to talk to his mechanic… he at least wasn’t dumb enough to miss the irony in his own predicament, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t his truth. 

Since then, Din had started bringing back more things you could use to decorate the ship with; tapestries, blankets, and cushions accompanied the trinkets and jewelry he brought back with him. He could tell that your favorite of his gifts had been a soft shawl he’d seen hanging at a market in the rural areas of Naboo. The politician’s son he was paid to deliver back home had gone on about the luxury material it was made of, something about ancient processes and unique resources… All he knew was that it brought out your natural beauty when you wrapped it around your shoulders, and he felt his cheeks get warm under his helmet when you did. 

The two of you started to fall into these new routines fairly easily, and with all of your redecorations, it was becoming a welcome change. In the evenings – or at least what you thought was evenings in the darkness of hyperspace – you would prep a set of ration packs for the both of you. It was always two of the same kind so that you could feel like you were “sharing a meal,” a concept he had very little experience with. At least, he hadn’t for a very long time. 

Since eating required removing his helmet, Mandalorians often took their meals in solitude, or within the confines of their family. You, on the other hand, were used to shared meals in dining rooms with someone at every seat, and communal dining halls bustling with people. At first, Din was afraid you might take offense to him leaving during meal times, never quite sure how to phrase his dilemma. 

Luckily, he never had to. 

You caught on pretty quickly to his predicament, handing him a warm ration pack with a smile before turning to let him eat in peace. He always rushed through his meals in order to join you in the hull, to thank you for your silent understanding by coming down to talk with you as you ate yours at a leisurely pace. 

As the weeks went by, Din picked up on some of your silent requests as well, memories of food that didn’t need to be rehydrated before you ate it. He began looking out for other booths at the markets, and fresh ingredients began coming home in place of some of the gifts and trinkets he always brought back with him. Each time he did, a home-cooked meal would follow, and Din always made sure he expressed his gratitude when he came back down to join you for the second half of your meal. 

Your routines continued like this for a while, silently assessing each other’s needs, and wordlessly adjusting to accommodate. And it worked. The Razor Crest felt more and more like a home rather than the metal casing of a ship, small traces of your personal touch nearly everywhere he looked. The food had been better, the companionship had been better, far better than the cold silence he’d had to put up with before you came to him. 

And Din started to catch on to just how much his own feelings revolved around you. 

He craved your warmth at the end of a rough day, he sought to provide your happiness, to get your approval… He tried to be better at actually opening his mouth, being able to express more of his feelings for you outside of your usual, quiet understanding of each other. He tried asking you more questions, wanting to not only hear about the events of your day but to actually get to know you better, showing you how much he genuinely cared. And Din was elated when you started to do the same in return. 

After he came back to the ship from a particularly taxing hunt, he heard your soft footsteps descending the ladder from the cockpit while he secured the unconscious bounty into the corner of the hull you had affectionately deemed “time-out.” The most uncomfortable chair had been secured behind some of your tapestries, acting as a set of curtains that kept the bounties from view. 

When Din emerged from the hanging fabrics, he could feel some of the tension leave his body at the sight of you in your work clothes, a warm smile dancing on your grease-stained cheeks, wiping your hands on the old flight suit you’d brought with you from home. No matter how difficult his hunts had been, being able to debrief with you upon his return always made him smile beneath the helmet. 

“Hey!” you lilted. 

“Hey,” he responded, still a little awkward despite how long you’d been working together. He was getting better, but it could definitely still use improvement. 

“How’d the hunt go?” you asked, gesturing to the closed curtain beside him. “Obviously successful if you’ve got someone in time-out.” Din chuckled under his breath at your quip, mulling over the events of his day before he replied. 

“It was fine.” You looked at him expectantly for a few moments, waiting for him to continue. 

“Just… fine?” you half giggled, one brow raised in question while you donned a crooked grin. It hadn’t really gone bad, he did have the bounty in hand. It could have gone better, but nothing that came to any detriment in the end… 

He nodded. “It… went well. There’s nothing to report,” he shrugged, unsure what else you were looking for in his answer. 

But your face fell. Only for a moment… but enough for him to see it. 

“How are your repairs coming?” He tried, hoping to stir the conversation again, to fix whatever had caused your sudden change in attitude. 

“Fine. There’s nothing to report.” Your answer was short, both in your words and your temper. You usually volunteered the finer details of your projects, explaining with a dramatic flair all of your trials and your victories, stories that Din was always happy to be an audience to. 

Why hadn’t you done so this time?

“I’m guessing it’ll be ration packs for dinner?” you added, nodding towards the empty satchel hanging from his hip. One that usually carried whatever gift he had brought for you. Dank farrik… he already hated coming back empty-handed – something you had never made him feel guilty for – but right now it was only making him feel worse. 

“There wasn’t a market on the way back to the ship,” he almost pleaded, trying to explain his intentions, but you simply gave him a tight-lipped nod in acknowledgment. 

“I’ll get the packs started so it's ready by the time you’ve unloaded.” Your voice lacked its usual kindness. This shift in the conversation had you speaking with him as if this were all just… business. Had he pushed you too far? Were you trying to remind him that he had hired you to be here? That he should be keeping things… professional?

Fuck. This was why he worked alone. 

One of the downsides of having grown up around the Mandalorians was that his concepts of interpersonal relationships were skewed. The two of you were operating on completely different sets of rules, and where you had been able to read each other incredibly well… Now he was left to try and figure out where he’d gone wrong. 

With Mandalorians, he knew where he stood. They spoke with purpose, meaning exactly what they said. Even growing up constantly harassing and sparring with Paz, Din knew where his sentiments came from; competition, comradery, and a deep passion for his people. But outside the covert… Din was still finding his footing when it came to the beings he interacted with. Riding with the mercenary group had at least taught him how to weed through the tangled lies that spewed from their mouths, trusting them only as far as he could throw them – if that. 

But you were nothing like those slimy low lives. He didn’t know how to start friendships, how to engage in small talk… and he had no idea where to start when it came to the way you made his heart rate pick up. You made Din nervous, but you were also a comfort. You were new and familiar all at once, a new adventure as well as a place of rest. 

You meant so much to him… and he’d managed to drive you away just as quickly as he had let you in. 

…

The fog of uncertainty hung around the ship for days, and with it, the cold emptiness he had been so accustomed to in his solitude had returned. But after the warmth you had brought to his Razor Crest, being without it was almost suffocating. Din missed you. 

That was a fact he was trying to wrap his head around, seeing as you still lived with him on the ship… but it wasn’t the same. You stopped humming while you worked on different panels across his ship, blanketing the hull in silence. Any questions Din tried to ask you were met with short, quiet responses. Surprisingly, you still made the effort to prepare a ration pack with yours during meal times, but when he rushed back down from the cockpit in record time to join you, you were nowhere in sight. 

There was nowhere to go inside his ship. That was one of the things he’d liked about it; there was room for him to live on board comfortably without giving his bounties anywhere to hide. And yet, you still managed to avoid him. When he entered the hull, you escaped to your room. When he climbed up the rungs to the cockpit, you would make some quiet excuse and scurry out the door behind him. No matter where he went, what he said, or whatever measures he took to try and catch you off-guard, you were gone before he could even open his mouth. 

He was fucking sick of it. He had made a promise, when you came aboard, that he would make sure you never came to regret choosing this life with him. That you would continue to choose to stay with him, to choose him over the home planet you were so desperate to leave. He made a promise, and he intended to keep it. 

After landing on Nevarro a few days later to return his bounty, Din’s plan began to unfold. He walked out of the run-down cantina Karga liked to meet up at – insisting that he was going to fix it up and make it ‘a place of gathering’ – the spills of his hunt clanking against the mechanical chip he had tucked away in the satchel that sat on his belt. A chip that, if missing, would cause systems in the cockpit to go offline. 

Something his mechanic would find during her daily diagnosis check. 

Din felt a pang of guilt at the thought of you being buried arms deep in the underside of the control panel with no hope of finding the repair, because he was the one to take it from you... But then he thought about the worser fate; what if you figured out what was missing, and had more reason to dislike him than before? His guilt quickly turned into slight panic, making haste to get back to his ship to enact his plan before your clever brain could figure out what he’d done. 

When he returned to the Crest, the harshness of the metal hull was almost overwhelming. You had started taking down your tapestries and decorations, save for everything but the “time-out” corner, and it felt cold. You didn’t come out to greet him or welcome him back, let alone acknowledge him at all. You hadn’t done so since the time your conversation had taken a turn for the worst. He did, however, hear a loud metal clang and your familiar grunt of frustration from exactly where he assumed you would be. He wondered if you had even heard him come on board… 

Din quietly discarded his weapons before stealthily moving to the ladder just below the cockpit, stopping in his tracks when he heard a slew of colorful curses leave your lips. He waited a few moments until the sounds of your hard work continued, none-the-wiser to his oncoming ambush. 

By the time he reached the top of the cockpit, he took a moment to assess the situation and figure out the best approach. You were exactly where he thought you would be, laying on your back just to the side of his pilot’s chair, agile hands fiddling with different cables and boards inside his instrument panel…

And your head snapped up to look at him when he made the door to the cockpit slide closed behind him. 

You stared at Din for a couple moments before you opened your mouth. “Did you… are you cornering me?” When you put it that way, this was not going quite as he’d imagined, despite everything going according to plan. He had to keep going. 

“You’re ignoring me,” he said firmly, his tone reminiscent of one he took with his bounties. 

“Fucking maker, did you hunt me?” You asked with furrowed brows, and your slightly agitated tone made him fairly certain you didn’t actually need his answer. “I live on the same kriffing ship, and you had to treat me like one of your bounties just to say something to me?” 

“I had to talk to you. You wouldn’t let me,” he pressed, keeping his voice steady. You gave a huff of indignation. 

“I don’t have time for this, Mando, I have to fix your ship,” you threw at him before your body thumped dramatically on the ground as you went back to your work. 

“So you are angry at me,” Din stated, sounding more like an observation than a question. He could work with angry. You shot him a glare without moving too much from your position, and he took that as a good enough indicator to continue his interrogation. “Did I do something to upset you?” 

“Mando…” you started, his moniker leaving your lips in an exasperated sigh, not without a flame of annoyance lurking behind it. 

“Don’t make another excuse. I’m tired of avoiding this.” He watched the bluntness of his words hit you, not surprised when you furrowed your brows as you started to slide out from under the console, sitting up to scowl at him properly. 

“Another- what? I didn’t make any fucking excuses, I’m not avoiding anything,” you fired off, your tone indicating the exact opposite of what you were saying. 

“Then why have you stopped talking to me?” Din expected another fiery response, but instead a split-second of realization crossed over your face before it was replaced with one of irritated confusion. It made him — him, the stone-cold Mandalorian bounty hunter — shift on his feet. 

“I stopped talking to you?” You countered, and you waited a moment to let him respond… but he didn’t know what you expected him to say. “Right, because you’ve been super talkative after ‘there’s nothing to report’,” you mumbled, and it caused those same words to ring in his head from the night everything went wrong. You had said them so coldly…

After he had said them to you. 

“I- I meant no offense,” he tried a little lamely, still not understanding where he had gone wrong, but wanting more than anything for you to understand that he was willing to fix it. “I didn’t have anything to say.” You gave another sigh, but this one was softer, like you were about to level with him. It was progress, if nothing else. 

“Nothing? You couldn’t give me the details of your hunt the same way I tell you about the market? I mean, it’s not as exciting as I make it out to be, I just... “ You trailed off and looked away from him without finishing your sentence, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. He was finally getting answers out of you, he was going to get to the bottom of this, and make good on his promise to keep you happy. This was the way. 

He was quick to kneel in front of you, trying to get closer to your level to get away from his interrogation tactic, and communicate that he was willing to listen and receive. “You just what? Help me understand.” 

You scoffed a laugh as you shook your head. “There’s not a lot to understand. I like talking with you, I like when we share stories. I just… I wanted to be close with you.” 

Din wanted to bang his head against the wall. With or without his helmet. This all started because he was an idiot who didn’t know how to talk? He was a bounty hunter, he should have been smarter than that. He should have been able to tell what had caused such a shift, and been able to fix it before the mission could go sideways. 

But, in all fairness, he was a bounty hunter who was used to being alone. 

Before Din had lucked into having you travel the galaxy with him on his hunts, he came back to an empty ship. There was nobody else to talk about the day with. And after living amongst the Mandalorians, a people of few words, he wasn’t exactly in the habit of speaking to himself or others. Before you, everything that surrounded Din was just… quiet. 

“But… this is just professional, I get that now. I’ll stay out of your way, and I won’t pry. It is your ship, after all.” 

And he was about to get himself into even more trouble if he didn’t figure out how to speak right fucking now. 

“No,” he started firmly, desperately catching on to the tail end of your admission, but not entirely sure what was about to come out of his mouth. “This isn’t- I don’t… I’m not good at talking.” Strong start Djarin. 

“What?” You asked softly. If anything, you pretty much justified his statement. He took a breath to try and steady himself, to dig through the chaos inside his head and find a half-way coherent string of words to offer you, to clean up his mess. 

“Mandalorians are quiet. Bounty Hunters keep to themselves. I’m not used to talking,” he reiterated, and he watched your confused expression shift gently into one of intrigue, your sign for him to keep going. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out, I just… didn’t know what else to say. I’m used to sparing people any details that aren’t deemed necessary. Now I know that I shouldn’t do that with you. I’m sorry.” 

Din was pleased to find a small smile growing at the corners of your mouth. “I mean… You don’t have to give me every detail. Just the good stuff,” you smiled, making Din’s heart feel warm. He didn’t realize how much he missed the radiance of your smile until now, feeling like he was finally stepping into the sun after spending so long in the dark. 

“Just the good stuff… So I’ll tell you how much blood there was when I-”

“No, no thanks,” you cut him off quickly, making a fake gagging sound as he laughed under his helmet. “I take it back, let’s go back to no more talking, I’m good. I’ll just stay up here with all my busted circuits, thank you very much.” 

“Please don’t, I can’t go back to quiet,” he said quickly, the smile still plastered on his face as the weight of his words hit both of you.

I can’t go back to quiet.

It was true, he couldn’t. The past few minutes talking with you again, even when you were angry and yelling at him half of the time, had him feeling better than he had in days. 

“Oh yeah?” You offered, and he could tell by your knowing smile that you had come to the same realization that he did. You knew how much he had come to need you. “You don’t want a break from all my rambling?” 

“Never,” he admitted. Din watched your shoulders relax and your soft smile get brighter as his answer left his helmet, and he realized how much you needed him in return. It made a warmth bloom from deep within his chest, warming him all the way out to the very coldest parts of his Beskar armor. “Never stop. I want you to fill this ship with all your stories, real or exaggerated.” 

It caught him by surprise when you leapt up from your spot on the ground to meet his height, flinging your arms around his neck as you held him tight, fitting together perfectly even as you knelt on the floor in front of each other. With only a little hesitation, Din wrapped his gloved hands around you, arms circling your waist and pulling you flush against the plates of his armor, and soaked up everything that was you. 

This is the way. 

Sooner than he would’ve liked, he felt your grip around his neck loosen, and you leaned back to lock you gaze with his dark visor. 

“As much as I’d love to catch up, your ship is driving me crazy and I have got to figure out how to get these control panels back online,” you explained, and Din slowly started to realize he hadn’t thought this part through. 

“Well, I uh…” 

“You’re welcome to stay and chat, if you’re in the talking mood. I’d love to hear about your meeting in town,” you offered playfully, sending him a wink as you began to shuffle yourself back down under the open compartment of his shift. 

Instead, he got down on the ground and laid himself next to you, as if he was going to look at what you were doing with the repairs. Your hands stopped mid-action as you looked at him, and he enjoyed the airy laugh that escaped you at his actions. 

“Or you can watch from here, that’s fine, too.” 

“I was actually going to offer a suggestion,” he started timidly. You turned away from him as you focused on the wires in front of you again. 

“I'll take anything you’ve got. I haven’t seen anything like this in ages… I’ve only got one idea left, but I doubt it’s right. It’s like the reactor chip is missing, but the only way that thing would’ve even budged is if someone-” You stopped in your tracks as Din lifted a gloved hand into your peripheral view, the small reactor chip held between his fingers for you to see. 

You paused a moment before turning your head dangerously towards your companion. He could see the corners of your lips twitching as you did everything you could to avoid a smile, and he remained grateful for his helmet as it hid his beaming face from view. 

You snatched the chip from his hand and looked back to your circuits. “Get out of my cockpit,” you said quietly, the last few words of your threat lost to your laughter. Din couldn’t stop his own laughter from coming through the modulator as he began getting up from the floor to do as he was told. “You’re making the ration packs tonight,” you added, the smile on your cheeks evident in your voice. 

"This is the way."

Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛

[chaotic-iguana]

Javi p x reader where ummm uhhh he is gone for long trip (post Columbia, where they’re on the ranch and his new job occasionally has to travel) and reader wears his clothes bc they miss him/clothes smell like him and javi comes home early to reader in his clothes and he’s like oh my goddd ur sooo cute and he just scoops reader up and idk it is cute

yes. this is the prompt. thank you anon sending you forehead kisses for life.

Away

Summary: Javier’s gone on a trip, and you just can’t help but miss him. lots of fluff. im a SLAVE for soft javi negl.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Pairing: Javier Peña x female! reader

Warnings: just a lot of domestic fluff and a little angst. some kissing and slightly suggestive language towards the end. also a little bit of swearing too. let me know if this works, anon!

masterlist. ao3.

part 2

————————————————————————

Even the coffee didn’t taste the same when he wasn’t here. Laredo had been perfect, a much required (and welcome) change in pace after Colombia. You’d met Javi working as an assistant of the Ambassador, practically detesting him at first. 

He’d sauntered into your office, batted his lashes at you (no, seriously), complimented your nails, and just oh-so-casually asked you to get him some paperwork he had absolutely no business looking at. So you’d just clicked your pretty nails (his words) in his face and told him to get the fuck out and come back when you’ve got your head out of your ass. 

Two weeks later, he’d just shown up again - sheepish, with proper coffee as a bribe this time - and asked for ten minutes with your boss. Impressed by his newly-discovered manners, you’d gotten him twenty minutes with the guy and helped sway him into authorizing a mission the Ambassador normally wouldn’t even have looked at. 

The next morning, there’d been flowers on your desk with a little note scrawled in chickenscratch. Thank you, hermosa. Sorry for being an ass last time. I like the new nails too, maybe you could show them to me up close sometime? You’d exaggeratedly rolled your eyes and thrown the note in the trash, of course, but you couldn’t quite keep the grin off your face that whole week. Nor the week after that, when he took you out, and you did, in fact, give him a fully immersive tactileexperience of that new set of acrylics you’d gotten before the note. 

Soon, the arrangement evolved from just sex to practically living together. You never spoke about it; Javi just had a closet in your home and his toothbrush in your bathroom. You went out for anniversary dinners without calling them anniversary dinners; flowers and coffee kept mysteriously showing up at your desk; and his informants started getting paid more and fucked less. By the time Javi left the DEA for good, you both had spent too many years by each other’s sides to change the routine. So the apartment was packed up, tickets to Laredo were brought, and you’d just followed him down here. 

It was like just breathing Laredo air was enough to change the man. He’d asked you to marry him practically a week after you met Chucho, who had welcomed you with open arms. Obviously, you said yes, and you lived happily ever. Or as close to it as you could get with his work stealing him away most of the time. It made you laugh, the way you were still waiting on him to come back from his trips - but atleast they weren’t to Bogota anymore; your heart stuck in your throat the whole time he was away because what if he didn’t come back? 

No, now that fear had long-faded - and though it flared up at times - a pathetic yearning took its place. Instead of being worried about Javi, you missed him when he was gone, counting down the days like a kid at summer camp waiting to go home. And in a way, you were waiting for your home too. 

You loved Chucho, and Laredo, and your new job and all the comforts life had given you here, but the apartment just felt cold and empty when Javi wasn’t next to you. Waking you up with slow, languid kisses in the morning, laughing when you grumbled and rolled over - only to tickle you awake, instead. That cocky grin he got when he realised you were too short to reach something, coming up behind you to pull it down and immediately kissing your forehead because of course you were struggling and of course you were too stubborn to ask him for help. The tough poker face he put on before making one of those witty quips that made you laugh until there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t stop giggling because it was so ridiculous. 

His laugh, his kisses, his smell and his warmth - you missed all of it so fucking much - but you’d never so much as indicate that to him, of course. It was something you’d promised yourself back when the two of you were just a newly-transferred secretary and a DEA agent who might have happened to be in the same bar a few too many times on weekends; you never wanted to make it harder for him to leave, to make him feel like he had to choose between you and his job. 

Today, you felt his lack of presence a bit more than normal; it was a day off and you had nothing to do. You and Javi would have spent half the day lounging on the couch and watching terrible movies, taking turns to put on quirky voices for scathing commentaries, ordered takeout and gotten into bed. To either sleep like the dead or get no sleep at all, depending on the mood. 

You could go out, but you just didn’t want to meet people right now. You’d had dinner with Chucho a few days ago, which meant you couldn’t just show up at the ranch unannounced and say you’re bored, either. Not that he would mind, but he’d spent the day showing you how to make tamales and that had understandably thrown his work schedule off a bit and you didn’t want to make it worse. 

So you showered and pulled out one of Javi’s sleep shirts and boxers, reveling in their comfort before curling up on the bed. You were flicking through the channels, bored out of your mind, when suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Cariño? It’s me.” The second his voice came from the other side, you were stumbling across the room to unlock the door and wrench it open. Beaming, you barely got to look at him before he was bursting through, throwing his bag down and he’d just scooped you up into his arms with practiced ease. 

Walking you to the bed, he set you down gently before manoevring you both so that you were in his lap. Tugging at the hem of his shirt, his smile widened. “What’s this, hm?” A teasing tone crept into his voice as you flushed and looked away, biting your lip. You didn’t show affection easily, and you’d never worn any of his shirts before - scared of coming off as too needy, too clingy - even when you were married to the man, for god’s sake. 

Watching you blush, Javi tilted your chin to make you look at him as his lips twisted into a smirk, leaning in to pepper kisses all over your face and giving you reprieve only when you squealed, pushing at his chest while giggling uncontrollably. “Did you miss me, honey?” Your shy nod just made him chuckle, gripping your chin to pull you into a deep, open-mouthed kiss. “You’re fuckin’ adorable, you know that? Walking around wearing my clothes when I’m not around - refusing to admit you missed me when I heard you trip on your way to the door.” The twinkle in his eye is only getting brighter with each word, and you’re struggling to meet his eye by the end of it. You knew he found it amusing - the fact that your usually foul-mouthed, unyielding nature; the woman who hadclicked her nails in his fucking face the first time they’d met - melted away to become all shy and flustered, just for him. 

“Don’t laugh” you huff, burying your face in his neck to avoid meeting his eye because that was honestly just making your blush deeper. He just snickers again, the asshole, before kissing your forehead and mumbling softly. 

“‘Course not, sweetheart. Hated being away, y’know? ‘N then I got home, and you just looked so cute in my shirt dwarfing you that I jus’ couldn’t help myself.” You leaned back, with a teasing grin of your own. 

“Couldn’t help yourself? Sounds like you’ve gotta make up for laughing at your poor wife now, Mr Peña.” You peered up at him through your lashes, watching him catch on with widened eyes before fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and pulling it over his head, hurling it to the floor next to him. 

“Come on then, wife. Let’s make amends, huh?”

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones @theywhowriteandknowthings

[djarintreble]

Dad!eddie where his daughter finds a condom and thinks it a balloon. Idk why i find this funny

STOP pls! Eddie would die laughing!

pairing: dad!Eddie Munson x fem!reader tags: part of my dad!Eddie series, Arwen Munson is 5, pregnant reader, mentions of pregnant belly, poor Arwen thinks she found a balloon... Eddie isn't helpful. word count: 700+ (also I know that gif is Joseph but like- please imagine the hair + that's more the age of dad!Eddie and he's laughing. work with me here) Dad!Eddie Munson Masterlist

It was a Saturday afternoon. You and Eddie were relaxing on your day off work. Arwen was 5 years old and practicing independent play. This is why the two of you laid on the couch, Eddie watching Batman Returns on your lap while you read a baby book. Little Munson Jr. was on his way soon and you accepted any and all relaxation. You could see Arwen from the corner of your eye. The movie finished and it was silent in the house for once. 

“It’s really quiet.” Eddie said, turning in your lap to look up at you. 

“Almost too quiet.” You responded. Then, you both jumped up wide eyed.

“Arwen!”

She was no longer in her play area. She has found her way somewhere else in the house.

“Jesus, what parents we are.” Eddie huffed as he threw himself off the couch. “Ari, baby. Where did you go?” 

“We really took the independent play seriously.” You replied. Arwen wasn’t in the kitchen which was your biggest fear. 

“This is what we get for listening to advice from Harrington.” He added from across the house. You mentioned Arwen was having a hard time not being clingy since you’ve been pregnant and she started school and you were afraid she would have a hard time with another baby in the house. Steve suggested implementing independent play and here’s what you got from it. 

“She’s not in the kitchen or dining room.” You called as you met with your husband in the living room. “She could have just gone to her room.” Eddie shrugged. 

You both walked to her room and cracked her door open to find it empty. With a sigh, you accepted that she has found her way to your room.

“Parents of the year, huh?” You laughed, rubbing your stomach. 

“And we keep getting better.” Eddie smiled, looking down at your pregnant belly and leaning down to give it a kiss. You pushed him off of you jokingly and headed to your room to look for Arwen. 

“Arwen, you know you’re not supposed to be in here without us.” You called out. 

“Hi, mom!” You heard Arwen say from the bathroom. Oh no, she had to have gotten into your makeup. 

You opened the door to see her fidgeting with a container. Your eyes widened as you realized what she had opened. 

“Oo! Balloons!” She exclaimed, stretching out a condom from a box Eddie stored in a bottom drawer. 

“Arwen, no!” You ran toward her.

She went to blow into it as you would a balloon but you took it from her and sat it on the counter with a huff. 

“I wanted a balloon.” She frowned. Her birthday was soon so it was made since she was thinking of a balloon. Besides, what five year old wouldn’t want one. However, this was not one and all you could imagine was her telling her teacher she found balloons in her parents bathroom. Embarrassment took over.

“We’ll go get you some real pink balloons at the store.” You said, looking back at Eddie who was covering his mouth over in the doorway. 

“Yay!” She said, jumping up. 

“Why don’t you go play in your room for a bit. You’re doing so great. Mommy is gonna get some dinner started.” You shook your head as your daughter ran over to your husband. He patted her head, leading her out of the room before finally losing it.

“AHAHA!” He bursted out laughing, leaning back and holding onto the doorframe to stop him from falling. 

“Stop!” You tried to hide your laugh. 

“She- thought- we- had- balloons-” He got out between laughs. 

As your husband cackled, you put the box back into a higher drawer. “That was so embarrassing.” You shook your head and leaned onto the bathroom counter. “Why?” He came over and put his shoulders to ground you, his own still shaking from laughter. “That was hilarious.” 

“She got our condoms out that you should have hid better.” You poked at his chest.

“She didn’t know any better. Come on, that was funny.” You joined in on his laughing.

“PARENTS OF THE YEAR WHOO!” He yelled as he turned around to go toward the kitchen, leading you behind him. 

“Shut it, Munson.” You responded.

“But honestly, she’s not wrong. If we need balloons, we know we have some.”

For that, you gave him a punch in the back which triggered more laughing. 

"You're adorable when you're flustered." He said, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips. Your face reddened as you rolled your eyes.

"Come help me with dinner, Munson."

"As you wish, princess."

---

series taglist: @geekmom3 @ruinedbythehobbit @dark-academia-slut

honorable tags I think would enjoy this story based on previous interaction (I love your comments on the last stories so hi ily): @aesthetic-lyssa @yodelingtea @wintermunsonreads @lovelyladymayyy @

eddie munson taglist thread: @catpjimin @senthiasworld @foxsmvlder @a-lil-pr1ncess @cryuki-patootie

[d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n]

Let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

Summary: You got hurt. It was his fault. And he feels absolutely awful.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Angst, Claustrophobia, Near-death situations, Some lightly mentioned family issues, Arguing, Couples? Quarrels, ANGST.

AN: The summary is awful - I feel like I say this every time. Idk if Reader and Lockwood are a couple, they don't have to be, but they can be if you want to. Love you all! (BTW I have not read the books in years so creative liberties were taken - I'm sorry for any and all book inaccuracies.)

The body of one 'Sergeant M. Bowers' floated precariously towards Lockwood. He backed up against the door of the bedroom, eyes darting between you and Bowers, rapier extended in front of him. You rifled through the bedroom, looking for anything precious or valuable. You had to find the source for Lockwood.

Lockwood had taken the case of this particular house out of pure greed. Mrs. Miller was willing to pay a pretty price to take care of her 'little problem' as she called it. You had warned him against it - the Bowers' manor was about a mile outside of the town you grew up in and you'd heard almost every story there was to hear about the house. About the family that inhabited the house. Lockwood hadn't listened.

He'd convinced you to come, saying the stories were 'probably just stories told to children to scare them away.' He assured you they weren't true. After George had done his research, you were more confident - apparently, reports of apparitions of children predated the problem and were therefore hoaxes.

The Bowers were an affluential aristocratic family before the war - the First World War, that is. "They were known for hosting Gatsby-esque parties to celebrate the most menial of affairs - like their dog turning one." George had rolled his eyes at that pushing the picture of the newspaper your way. April 6th, 1912. A week before the Titanic sank.

The sinking of the Titanic began a series of unfortunate events for the Bowers family, starting with the death of the youngest son, James. James and his to-be wife, Miranda, died aboard the ship, thrusting the family into a long period of mourning. In the following two years, 6 of the 12 members who lived in the house had passed away, forcing the rest to flee the countryside manor, claiming it had been cursed - which brought about the misfortune of the family.

The last of the family to inherit the manor was Sergeant Michael James Bowers, who was the youngest nephew of James. He had lost his life in the second World War; after being shot in the arm and leg, he had been honourably discharged and sent home. He succumbed to sepsis not long after, surrounded by empty halls and unhappy memories. Apparently, he had never left.

You shook your head in discomfort - dispelling the dark feeling that had crept over you since reading about the family's terrible fate. Something seemed off about this case - something seemed to have been omitted from all the research you and George had done.

At first, you disregarded it as nerves. The Bowers manor was big - bigger than any other case you had taken. Plus, it was close to home, which was full of unpleasant memories. Maybe the added pressure was playing on your mind. You tried to explain yourself to Lockwood, who dismissed you. Apparently, Lucy had to help Kipps with some research, and George was working on another case. There was no point in arguing with Lockwood when he had made up his mind, and he was not going to budge on this case.

Which led you to your current predicament.

There were many ghosts haunting the halls of the Bowers manor. It seemed that everyone who had died here didn't want to leave. You had rid the house of most of the ghosts - sealing almost ten sources in different iron boxes. Lockwood had danced his way through the Type Ones that he was dealing with - he was evidently the better agent out of the two of you. You had lucked out - you came face to face with a Type Two. The small girl kept repeating about her teddy which you had found in an upstairs bedroom covered in filth and cobwebs. You threw an iron net over it before leaning against a wall to catch your breath. You were exhausted - and you hadn't even dealt with the real problem.

Sergeant Bowers.

Sergeant M. Bowers was a lot more tortured than you had initially thought. His wife left him when he left for the war, leaving to follow her true love into the country - countless correspondences scattered across the rooms told you as much.

Then came the matter of a child - Timothy. Pictures of him were littered through the halls - toys left to rot in the hallways. Clearly, no one had cleaned it until Mrs. Miller bought it at that country house auction. Except the trace of him ended there. There was nothing in your research to tell you about him, nor any sign of him outside the walls of this home.

It was peculiar.

You had tried to tell Lockwood, but he brushed you off. "The kid must have died - explains the tortured relationship between his parents."

It seemed odd to you. What kind of mother would run off without her child?

A glint caught your eye. A small jewellery box lay on the vanity, dust laid over it as if it hadn't been touched in decades. You dashed towards it, opening it quickly to find a simple silver band inside. A wedding band. A source.

You placed the ring in a small iron box - one of your many engineering feats that made your job safer and easier to do. Bowers disappeared from over Lockwood and you ran over to help him up.

"See? Not too bad, was it?" Lockwood joked, taking the box from your hand and putting it in his bag with the rest of them.

"The only reason I'm glad we don't work with Fittes is the paperwork. We'd be drowning in it after tonight. Can you imagine? With all those Type Ones and the two Type Twos. I'd be crying into my pillow for weeks." You grabbed the rest of your equipment and headed towards the stairs. Lockwood's fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you back sharply.

He pulled out his rapier and pointed it toward the woman - an apparition of a young woman, dressed in a maid's uniform and carrying a basket, seemingly full of laundry.

"Another Type Two. Great." Lockwood sighed, "You check downstairs and I'll check upstairs. She's a maid. Look for... maid things? I don't know." You nodded before hopping downstairs, armed with your rapier.

You went down to the servants' quarters, which you had seen on the blueprints of the house. The room was small, just off the side of the kitchen - and was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. The maids had been let go long before Sergeant Bowers had inherited the house. Clearly, they had taken the cleanliness with them.

You looked around for anything that could be a source. Why would staff die here, you thought, when the Bowers were known for treating staff well? And why would she choose to stay? You walked around the room, running your fingers over the sparse wooden furniture around the room, leaving trails in the dust in your wake. You tripped by the door to the bathroom, cutting your hand on a small loose nail by the door - probably used for hanging coats or aprons. You winced as you stretched your hand, closing your fist to stop the blood from dripping all over the floor.

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Did you find anything, Lockwood?" No response. "Lockwood?" The door to the servants' quarters slammed shut. You pressed up against the door, trying to force it open. "LOCKWOOD? LOCKWOOD, HELP!" You screamed, trying to push the door hard. "LOCKWOOD, PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"

Lockwood called to you from the landing, telling you he's found something interesting. You tried screaming for him again, but he was too far away to hear you, just like you were too far away to help. Ghostly yelling startled you as you turned around. The maid was here, clearly oblivious to you in the room. She was humming softly as the ghostly yelling continued.

You watched her from a distance as she folded some invisible clothes, her humming still ringing out around the room. She laughed at nothing, before turning towards the door, expectantly. You turned towards the door, expecting to see some other apparition in the doorway but there was nothing. She seemed to get frantically worried by the lack of whatever presence she is expecting, her humming becoming erratic and eerier by the second.

Her eyes grazed over you, and she seemed to relax. She spoke to you gently, reaching her hand out to you, "Come, Elizabeth. There's no need to be scared." You felt the effects of Ghost-lock wash over you, as lethargy numbs your senses. You saw her drifting toward you, but you had no energy to run or even to poise your rapier in front of you. And she seems so nice.

You heard the door fly open and felt someone grab your arm, tightly. You were pulled out of the room and back into the kitchen. "Thanks, Anthony." You whispered, resting on the kitchen counters.

"Anthony? Who's Anthony?" You looked up, unamused by Lockwood's attempt at a joke.

Your jaw dropped. In front of you was a man that you thought you may never see again, "Grandpa? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you screaming. Just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, eyes looking you over, searching for injuries. You hid your arm further behind your back, not wanting to worry him more.

He brought his hand up to brush your cheek, staring down at you lovingly. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo."

You felt hands pulling you up off the floor, and a strangely familiar voice whispering soothing words in your ear. You struggled in the grasp of this strange person, trying - unsuccessfully - to flee. They held you firmly, arms tucked neatly beneath you.

Tired from your busy night, you gave up, resting your head against the person's chest. You knew this cologne. It was Anthony's - you teased him for putting on too much and the scent lingers in the hallways some mornings. You settled, seeking his warmth and his comfort.

"Nice to have you back. You worried me for a minute back there."

"Lockwood? Worried? God, are there pigs in the sky?" You bantered back, your voice weak with exhaustion. He laid you down on the stairs, running back to grab your rapier and your flares. You must have dropped them when your Grandpa showed up. Grandpa?

Where did he go? You stood up trying to walk back to the kitchen. Grandpa couldn't see any apparitions - if one came for him, he'd be as good as dead.

"Whoa, slow down, Usain Bolt." Lockwood caught you as your legs folded beneath you. "You took a nasty hit to the head, plus you might have had a bit of ghost-lock as well."

"Lockwood, my grandpa," You said, looking past him, and back at the kitchen door, "He can't see them. We have to help him."

"Your grandpa? Honey, there's no one here." The nickname fell on deaf ears. You tried to scramble back towards the room, but Lockwood held you tightly.

He walked with you back to the kitchen - to prove there was no one there. There was no sign of anyone being there - nothing at all.

"Look - there's no one else here. You must have hit your head while getting away from the maid. Just," He huffed, pulling you closer to him, "let me get you home. Let me check you over - make sure you're alright."

You let Lockwood drag you towards the taxi and push you inside. You let him maneuver your body so that your head is resting on his chest and your legs dangle over his. You let him carry you like a rag doll into the house and set you down in the kitchen.

You shivered slightly - involuntarily - but Lockwood noticed. He draped a large blanket over you, boiling some water for hot tea. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and sat down in front of you.

He held out his hand for yours, "Let me clean it for you." So you do.

He spent the better part of the next hour meticulously cleaning every scratch and scrape he can find - only slowing down when you wince, or to pour you more tea. He makes it how you like it - a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk

Once he's done, he lifts you again and carries you to bed, tucking you in like a mother would their child. He turns out the lights with a soft goodnight and crosses the landing to his own bedroom. The first floor is plunged into darkness, but you stare up at the ceiling.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily. When you close your eyes, the maid's face is above yours - her hand reaching out to you, beckoning you. You want to take it. You see her holding Elizabeth, cradling her as she cries. Your grandpa's face comes up next to the maid and you see your grandpa die. How he screams for you to help him as the plasm burns through his skin. Your mother blames you - tells you that she should never have let you go to Fittes. The maid shields Elizabeth from the loud arguing coming from upstairs. No, not from upstairs. The arguing is happening below you. You shake yourself awake from your restless night, wincing as you contort your bruised body. You slip on your Fittes hoodie and creep downstairs.

Lucy and Lockwood are facing off in the kitchen. Again. You sit on the step, listening in.

"She told you she didn't want to go! And now, there's a chance she won't be able to go into the field."

"She'll be fine. She's tough, she'll get through it."

"You don't know that, Lockwood! You can't just assume that everything will be fine just because you want it to be." You could hear Lucy's voice breaking as she fought back tears.

"Maybe, she won't want to go on missions anymore," George piped up. Clearly, he'd been forced to sit there through breakfast and listen to the argument, "After all, you didn't listen to her doubts when she said she was scared."

"No, she didn't. She just had nerves."

"No, Lockwood. I was terrified. And you didn't hear me out."

"You're awake!" Lucy threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "God, I'm so happy you're okay!" You smiled at her warmly, hugging her back. She moved past you, saying something about needing to meet Kipps to finish their case.

"I'd hug you too, but you should probably shower first. Who knows what kind of bacteria fester in hundred-year-old manors? I'll see you after lunch - heading to the archives." George walked out quickly, almost as if he was being chased out by rats.

Lockwood stood in front of you, straight as a board, "You look like you've been electrocuted. Sit down. I'm not going to bite." Lockwood sent a weak smile in your direction.

You poured yourself a mug of tea and put some bread in the toaster. You made a mental note to send George a shopping list before he came back.

"So..." Lockwood started, and you wanted to laugh. In the almost three years you'd lived with him, you'd never seen him so nervous.

"So?"

"We should probably talk about what happened back there." Ah. He wanted to do this now.

"Yeah. We probably should."

"What happened? I mean, one minute you were fine, the next you were unconscious in the kitchen?" Lockwood said, leaning back in his chair slightly.

You grabbed your mug and sat in the chair opposite him, "Was I, though?" Lockwood raised his eyebrows, "Was I really fine, Lockwood, or did you just want me to be fine?"

"I don't understand?"

"Lockwood, I voiced my doubts to you! I told you to let it go! That this was a case we didn't have to take! That we'd find something better." You were standing now, leaning over the table, staring Lockwood down.

"Worth more than 90 grand? Do you have any concept of how much money that is?"

"YES! YES, LOCKWOOD, I DO! IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH MONEY! We fought how many ghosts? 10? 12? Do you even consider that?"

"14, actually."

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOURSELF. YOU MAY BE THE LITTLE PRODIGY OF FITTES, BUT SOME OF US ARE NORMAL. SOME OF US ARE AVERAGE." You sat back down, your legs shaking. You were still too weak to force this argument. Your voice trembled, "I can't keep up with you, Lockwood, none of us can. Lucy, maybe, but even she needs a break. Hell, even you need a break sometimes."

"We're fine, aren't we? We're all alive and kicking, still fighting ghosts another day?"

"Yeah, but for how long? How long do we keep getting to cheat death?" How long until one of us gets buried for the unnecessary risks we keep taking? You didn't say it but the question took root in the back of your mind.

Lockwood sighed, "I don't know where this is even coming from. We survived. We did the job. We got our money. Aren't you happy-"

"HAPPY! HOW CAN I BE HAPPY, LOCKWOOD? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT HOUSE YESTERDAY! One minute, we were sealing up a source, the next I was being lured in by a Type Two, ghost-locked and bleeding. Somehow, my GRANDPA WAS THERE, AND THEN I'M UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE, nothing - nothing makes sense. I feel - I feel like my brain's been scrambled. It just - I can't - I don't-" Lockwood kneeled next to you, his palm gently cradling your face, and let you cry. You stayed there for a few seconds before you looked up into his face, eyes brimming with tears, "You know what the - what the worst part was?"

"What was the worst part, honey?" There it was again, the nickname. Your heart skipped slightly at the sound of it.

"That you couldn't hear me." Lockwood looked at you, pain sweeping over his expression. "I called for you. In the servants' quarters. I needed you, but you couldn't hear me. I screamed and I cried and I begged and I- I needed you, Lockwood."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, before stroking your hair. You cried into his shirt, the white fabric turning translucent in the dampness.

"I will always come." He whispered to you, eyes bright with determination. "I may not have always been there before, but I will be now. I promise. No matter where or when, if you call, I will come to you." He cradled your face in his hands again, thumbs gently rubbing away your tears, "I will listen to you - and George, and Lucy. If you tell me you're scared, I'll hear you. I won't take jobs out of greed, we'll make decisions together. We're a team. I'm sorry I haven't been acting like it."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck, "I like the sound of that."

You felt Lockwood smile against your neck. "I'll take care of you. If you'll let me."

You pulled back, "Taking care of each other goes both ways. You have to let me take care of you too." He scoffed lightly, but you knew that he had agreed. He couldn't ever say no to you. Not even at Fittes.

"As much as I hate to ruin the moment, George was right. I don't want to think about how much bacteria was probably growing in that house." Lockwood helped you up, "You should probably shower." You nodded your head, chuckling lightly. You grabbed Lockwood's phone from the table and before he could steal it back, you sent a text on the group chat.

"We need food. PLS. WE HAVE NOTHING." You threw him his phone as you ran up the stairs. Lockwood laughed at the text.

"They'll know it's you." He said waving his phone as you grabbed your towel.

"Or they'll have a heart attack knowing that Frosty can change his mind."

fin.

[downbadf0rficppl]

let me

Anthony Lockwood x F!Reader

Summary: You got hurt. It was his fault. And he feels absolutely awful.

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: Angst, Claustrophobia, Near-death situations, Some lightly mentioned family issues, Arguing, Couples? Quarrels, ANGST.

AN: The summary is awful - I feel like I say this every time. Idk if Reader and Lockwood are a couple, they don't have to be, but they can be if you want to. Love you all! (BTW I have not read the books in years so creative liberties were taken - I'm sorry for any and all book inaccuracies.)

Repost

The body of one 'Sergeant M. Bowers' floated precariously towards Lockwood. He backed up against the door of the bedroom, eyes darting between you and Bowers, rapier extended in front of him. You rifled through the bedroom, looking for anything precious or valuable. You had to find the source for Lockwood.

Lockwood had taken the case of this particular house out of pure greed. Mrs. Miller was willing to pay a pretty price to take care of her 'little problem' as she called it. You had warned him against it - the Bowers' manor was about a mile outside of the town you grew up in and you'd heard almost every story there was to hear about the house. About the family that inhabited the house. Lockwood hadn't listened.

He'd convinced you to come, saying the stories were 'probably just stories told to children to scare them away.' He assured you they weren't true. After George had done his research, you were more confident - apparently, reports of apparitions of children predated the problem and were therefore hoaxes.

The Bowers were an affluential aristocratic family before the war - the First World War, that is. "They were known for hosting Gatsby-esque parties to celebrate the most menial of affairs - like their dog turning one." George had rolled his eyes at that pushing the picture of the newspaper your way. April 6th, 1912. A week before the Titanic sank.

The sinking of the Titanic began a series of unfortunate events for the Bowers family, starting with the death of the youngest son, James. James and his to-be wife, Miranda, died aboard the ship, thrusting the family into a long period of mourning. In the following two years, 6 of the 12 members who lived in the house had passed away, forcing the rest to flee the countryside manor, claiming it had been cursed - which brought about the misfortune of the family.

The last of the family to inherit the manor was Sergeant Michael James Bowers, who was the youngest nephew of James. He had lost his life in the second World War; after being shot in the arm and leg, he had been honourably discharged and sent home. He succumbed to sepsis not long after, surrounded by empty halls and unhappy memories. Apparently, he had never left.

You shook your head in discomfort - dispelling the dark feeling that had crept over you since reading about the family's terrible fate. Something seemed off about this case - something seemed to have been omitted from all the research you and George had done.

At first, you disregarded it as nerves. The Bowers manor was big - bigger than any other case you had taken. Plus, it was close to home, which was full of unpleasant memories. Maybe the added pressure was playing on your mind. You tried to explain yourself to Lockwood, who dismissed you. Apparently, Lucy had to help Kipps with some research, and George was working on another case. There was no point in arguing with Lockwood when he had made up his mind, and he was not going to budge on this case.

Which led you to your current predicament.

There were many ghosts haunting the halls of the Bowers manor. It seemed that everyone who had died here didn't want to leave. You had rid the house of most of the ghosts - sealing almost ten sources in different iron boxes. Lockwood had danced his way through the Type Ones that he was dealing with - he was evidently the better agent out of the two of you. You had lucked out - you came face to face with a Type Two. The small girl kept repeating about her teddy which you had found in an upstairs bedroom covered in filth and cobwebs. You threw an iron net over it before leaning against a wall to catch your breath. You were exhausted - and you hadn't even dealt with the real problem.

Sergeant Bowers.

Sergeant M. Bowers was a lot more tortured than you had initially thought. His wife left him when he left for the war, leaving to follow her true love into the country - countless correspondences scattered across the rooms told you as much.

Then came the matter of a child - Timothy. Pictures of him were littered through the halls - toys left to rot in the hallways. Clearly, no one had cleaned it until Mrs. Miller bought it at that country house auction. Except the trace of him ended there. There was nothing in your research to tell you about him, nor any sign of him outside the walls of this home.

It was peculiar.

You had tried to tell Lockwood, but he brushed you off. "The kid must have died - explains the tortured relationship between his parents."

It seemed odd to you. What kind of mother would run off without her child?

A glint caught your eye. A small jewellery box lay on the vanity, dust laid over it as if it hadn't been touched in decades. You dashed towards it, opening it quickly to find a simple silver band inside. A wedding band. A source.

You placed the ring in a small iron box - one of your many engineering feats that made your job safer and easier to do. Bowers disappeared from over Lockwood and you ran over to help him up.

"See? Not too bad, was it?" Lockwood joked, taking the box from your hand and putting it in his bag with the rest of them.

"The only reason I'm glad we don't work with Fittes is the paperwork. We'd be drowning in it after tonight. Can you imagine? With all those Type Ones and the two Type Twos. I'd be crying into my pillow for weeks." You grabbed the rest of your equipment and headed towards the stairs. Lockwood's fingers wrapped around your arm, pulling you back sharply.

He pulled out his rapier and pointed it toward the woman - an apparition of a young woman, dressed in a maid's uniform and carrying a basket, seemingly full of laundry.

"Another Type Two. Great." Lockwood sighed, "You check downstairs and I'll check upstairs. She's a maid. Look for... maid things? I don't know." You nodded before hopping downstairs, armed with your rapier.

You went down to the servants' quarters, which you had seen on the blueprints of the house. The room was small, just off the side of the kitchen - and was perhaps the cleanest room in the house. The maids had been let go long before Sergeant Bowers had inherited the house. Clearly, they had taken the cleanliness with them.

You looked around for anything that could be a source. Why would staff die here, you thought, when the Bowers were known for treating staff well? And why would she choose to stay? You walked around the room, running your fingers over the sparse wooden furniture around the room, leaving trails in the dust in your wake. You tripped by the door to the bathroom, cutting your hand on a small loose nail by the door - probably used for hanging coats or aprons. You winced as you stretched your hand, closing your fist to stop the blood from dripping all over the floor.

You heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Did you find anything, Lockwood?" No response. "Lockwood?" The door to the servants' quarters slammed shut. You pressed up against the door, trying to force it open. "LOCKWOOD? LOCKWOOD, HELP!" You screamed, trying to push the door hard. "LOCKWOOD, PLEASE! I NEED YOU!"

Lockwood called to you from the landing, telling you he's found something interesting. You tried screaming for him again, but he was too far away to hear you, just like you were too far away to help. Ghostly yelling startled you as you turned around. The maid was here, clearly oblivious to you in the room. She was humming softly as the ghostly yelling continued.

You watched her from a distance as she folded some invisible clothes, her humming still ringing out around the room. She laughed at nothing, before turning towards the door, expectantly. You turned towards the door, expecting to see some other apparition in the doorway but there was nothing. She seemed to get frantically worried by the lack of whatever presence she is expecting, her humming becoming erratic and eerier by the second.

Her eyes grazed over you, and she seemed to relax. She spoke to you gently, reaching her hand out to you, "Come, Elizabeth. There's no need to be scared." You felt the effects of Ghost-lock wash over you, as lethargy numbs your senses. You saw her drifting toward you, but you had no energy to run or even to poise your rapier in front of you. And she seems so nice.

You heard the door fly open and felt someone grab your arm, tightly. You were pulled out of the room and back into the kitchen. "Thanks, Anthony." You whispered, resting on the kitchen counters.

"Anthony? Who's Anthony?" You looked up, unamused by Lockwood's attempt at a joke.

Your jaw dropped. In front of you was a man that you thought you may never see again, "Grandpa? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I heard you screaming. Just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, eyes looking you over, searching for injuries. You hid your arm further behind your back, not wanting to worry him more.

He brought his hand up to brush your cheek, staring down at you lovingly. "I'm sorry about this, kiddo."

You felt hands pulling you up off the floor, and a strangely familiar voice whispering soothing words in your ear. You struggled in the grasp of this strange person, trying - unsuccessfully - to flee. They held you firmly, arms tucked neatly beneath you.

Tired from your busy night, you gave up, resting your head against the person's chest. You knew this cologne. It was Anthony's - you teased him for putting on too much and the scent lingers in the hallways some mornings. You settled, seeking his warmth and his comfort.

"Nice to have you back. You worried me for a minute back there."

"Lockwood? Worried? God, are there pigs in the sky?" You bantered back, your voice weak with exhaustion. He laid you down on the stairs, running back to grab your rapier and your flares. You must have dropped them when your Grandpa showed up. Grandpa?

Where did he go? You stood up trying to walk back to the kitchen. Grandpa couldn't see any apparitions - if one came for him, he'd be as good as dead.

"Whoa, slow down, Usain Bolt." Lockwood caught you as your legs folded beneath you. "You took a nasty hit to the head, plus you might have had a bit of ghost-lock as well."

"Lockwood, my grandpa," You said, looking past him, and back at the kitchen door, "He can't see them. We have to help him."

"Your grandpa? Honey, there's no one here." The nickname fell on deaf ears. You tried to scramble back towards the room, but Lockwood held you tightly.

He walked with you back to the kitchen - to prove there was no one there. There was no sign of anyone being there - nothing at all.

"Look - there's no one else here. You must have hit your head while getting away from the maid. Just," He huffed, pulling you closer to him, "let me get you home. Let me check you over - make sure you're alright."

You let Lockwood drag you towards the taxi and push you inside. You let him maneuver your body so that your head is resting on his chest and your legs dangle over his. You let him carry you like a rag doll into the house and set you down in the kitchen.

You shivered slightly - involuntarily - but Lockwood noticed. He draped a large blanket over you, boiling some water for hot tea. He grabbed the first aid kit from under the sink and sat down in front of you.

He held out his hand for yours, "Let me clean it for you." So you do.

He spent the better part of the next hour meticulously cleaning every scratch and scrape he can find - only slowing down when you wince, or to pour you more tea. He makes it how you like it - a spoonful of sugar and a dash of milk

Once he's done, he lifts you again and carries you to bed, tucking you in like a mother would their child. He turns out the lights with a soft goodnight and crosses the landing to his own bedroom. The first floor is plunged into darkness, but you stare up at the ceiling.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily. When you close your eyes, the maid's face is above yours - her hand reaching out to you, beckoning you. You want to take it. You see her holding Elizabeth, cradling her as she cries. Your grandpa's face comes up next to the maid and you see your grandpa die. How he screams for you to help him as the plasm burns through his skin. Your mother blames you - tells you that she should never have let you go to Fittes. The maid shields Elizabeth from the loud arguing coming from upstairs. No, not from upstairs. The arguing is happening below you. You shake yourself awake from your restless night, wincing as you contort your bruised body. You slip on your Fittes hoodie and creep downstairs.

Lucy and Lockwood are facing off in the kitchen. Again. You sit on the step, listening in.

"She told you she didn't want to go! And now, there's a chance she won't be able to go into the field."

"She'll be fine. She's tough, she'll get through it."

"You don't know that, Lockwood! You can't just assume that everything will be fine just because you want it to be." You could hear Lucy's voice breaking as she fought back tears.

"Maybe, she won't want to go on missions anymore," George piped up. Clearly, he'd been forced to sit there through breakfast and listen to the argument, "After all, you didn't listen to her doubts when she said she was scared."

"No, she didn't. She just had nerves."

"No, Lockwood. I was terrified. And you didn't hear me out."

"You're awake!" Lucy threw her arms around you, hugging you tightly. "God, I'm so happy you're okay!" You smiled at her warmly, hugging her back. She moved past you, saying something about needing to meet Kipps to finish their case.

"I'd hug you too, but you should probably shower first. Who knows what kind of bacteria fester in hundred-year-old manors? I'll see you after lunch - heading to the archives." George walked out quickly, almost as if he was being chased out by rats.

Lockwood stood in front of you, straight as a board, "You look like you've been electrocuted. Sit down. I'm not going to bite." Lockwood sent a weak smile in your direction.

You poured yourself a mug of tea and put some bread in the toaster. You made a mental note to send George a shopping list before he came back.

"So..." Lockwood started, and you wanted to laugh. In the almost three years you'd lived with him, you'd never seen him so nervous.

"So?"

"We should probably talk about what happened back there." Ah. He wanted to do this now.

"Yeah. We probably should."

"What happened? I mean, one minute you were fine, the next you were unconscious in the kitchen?" Lockwood said, leaning back in his chair slightly.

You grabbed your mug and sat in the chair opposite him, "Was I, though?" Lockwood raised his eyebrows, "Was I really fine, Lockwood, or did you just want me to be fine?"

"I don't understand?"

"Lockwood, I voiced my doubts to you! I told you to let it go! That this was a case we didn't have to take! That we'd find something better." You were standing now, leaning over the table, staring Lockwood down.

"Worth more than 90 grand? Do you have any concept of how much money that is?"

"YES! YES, LOCKWOOD, I DO! IT'S NOT NEARLY ENOUGH MONEY! We fought how many ghosts? 10? 12? Do you even consider that?"

"14, actually."

"YOU ARE NOT HELPING YOURSELF. YOU MAY BE THE LITTLE PRODIGY OF FITTES, BUT SOME OF US ARE NORMAL. SOME OF US ARE AVERAGE." You sat back down, your legs shaking. You were still too weak to force this argument. Your voice trembled, "I can't keep up with you, Lockwood, none of us can. Lucy, maybe, but even she needs a break. Hell, even you need a break sometimes."

"We're fine, aren't we? We're all alive and kicking, still fighting ghosts another day?"

"Yeah, but for how long? How long do we keep getting to cheat death?" How long until one of us gets buried for the unnecessary risks we keep taking? You didn't say it but the question took root in the back of your mind.

Lockwood sighed, "I don't know where this is even coming from. We survived. We did the job. We got our money. Aren't you happy-"

"HAPPY! HOW CAN I BE HAPPY, LOCKWOOD? I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT HOUSE YESTERDAY! One minute, we were sealing up a source, the next I was being lured in by a Type Two, ghost-locked and bleeding. Somehow, my GRANDPA WAS THERE, AND THEN I'M UNCONCIOUS ON THE FLOOR. NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE, nothing - nothing makes sense. I feel - I feel like my brain's been scrambled. It just - I can't - I don't-" Lockwood kneeled next to you, his palm gently cradling your face, and let you cry. You stayed there for a few seconds before you looked up into his face, eyes brimming with tears, "You know what the - what the worst part was?"

"What was the worst part, honey?" There it was again, the nickname. Your heart skipped slightly at the sound of it.

"That you couldn't hear me." Lockwood looked at you, pain sweeping over his expression. "I called for you. In the servants' quarters. I needed you, but you couldn't hear me. I screamed and I cried and I begged and I- I needed you, Lockwood."

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap, before stroking your hair. You cried into his shirt, the white fabric turning translucent in the dampness.

"I will always come." He whispered to you, eyes bright with determination. "I may not have always been there before, but I will be now. I promise. No matter where or when, if you call, I will come to you." He cradled your face in his hands again, thumbs gently rubbing away your tears, "I will listen to you - and George, and Lucy. If you tell me you're scared, I'll hear you. I won't take jobs out of greed, we'll make decisions together. We're a team. I'm sorry I haven't been acting like it."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, tucking yourself into his neck, "I like the sound of that."

You felt Lockwood smile against your neck. "I'll take care of you. If you'll let me."

You pulled back, "Taking care of each other goes both ways. You have to let me take care of you too." He scoffed lightly, but you knew that he had agreed. He couldn't ever say no to you. Not even at Fittes.

"As much as I hate to ruin the moment, George was right. I don't want to think about how much bacteria was probably growing in that house." Lockwood helped you up, "You should probably shower." You nodded your head, chuckling lightly. You grabbed Lockwood's phone from the table and before he could steal it back, you sent a text on the group chat.

"We need food. PLS. WE HAVE NOTHING." You threw him his phone as you ran up the stairs. Lockwood laughed at the text.

"They'll know it's you." He said waving his phone as you grabbed your towel.

"Or they'll have a heart attack knowing that Frosty can change his mind."

fin.

buy me a coffee

[redr0sewrites]

HEY!

So, I really liked your two Aaravis fics, and I have an idea/request. You don't have to do it if you don't feel like it of course.

So there is that dark mark on Aaravos's chest. And we know that it became dark after his imprisonment. Now the idea is that the reader either knew Aaravos *before* it lost it's shine, and like, later got trapped in the mirror too and reunited with him, or maybe met him in the mirror and asked about the mark. And like, asks Aaravos why it lost it's shine, and after hearing about the things, instead of looking at him differently, or scared, they see that Aaravos is sad, so they preform a little trick. So they make a little light ball, making it look like they took it out of their heart and then place it on Aaravos's chest (where the dark star is), and saying that "It's okay, you can have my light" or something like that, idk....

Like, the concept is just reader accepting that darkness, and cherishing it and all that cheezy, fluffy stuff. Like I said, you aren't obliged to write this, this is just a random idea my maladaptive daydreamer self came up with. Have a lovely day, take care, and thanks for feeding us Aaravos fans with your lovely work!

AAAA TYSM THIS REQ IS SO GREAT!!! I love this idea, it made me so excited ajsjdj HOPE U ENJOY!

🥀CW: angst (with happy ending), fluffiness, aaravos being insecure, mentions of trauma and suffering/containment

when the news of aaravos' imprisonment reached you, you were shocked. how could he have been discovered, he had been so careful and meticulous in his planning, and all of his motives were for the good of humanity! you, and many other elves who supported him were not only surprised, but also outraged. to trap a startouch elf, to take your lover away from you... you knew you could never rest until you could see him again. years of pulling strings, gaining popularity, playing the puppeteer behind the scenes had led you to this moment. you had fought for centuries, sacrificed so much to see him again, and here you finally were. before you stood aaravos, your star touch lover, in all of his glory. it had been so long, and your heart seemed to sing at the sight of him. and yet, something was different.

when aaravos first saw you, he thought he was in a dream. you had appeared to him on so many nights, only to fade away once the morning came, slipping through his fingers like sand. the memory of you, your face, your voice, your touch, it all felt like a painful distant nightmare that played throughout his head every single time he closed his eyes. he had missed you so, so much, yet he knew he had changed. not only mentally, years of imprisonment had long since broken him, but physically as well. the glowing star on his chest had faded from a shimmering splendor to a cold ember, with nothing of its former glory remaining. he couldnt help but feel ashamed at its bleak emptiness, a disgusting mark of his failure and imprisonment. however, he would not focus on it now. you were here, in front of him, and he was free.

"my star.. is it truly you?" his voice was soft, broken and cracked from the emotions swelling inside him. you didnt dare open your mouth, knowing you would probably begin to sob and nodded, your eyes were already brimming with tears. the both of you rushed forward suddenly, throwing your arms around eachother and weeping with joy. you both stayed like that for a while, entangled in eachother and whispering softly. you werent sure how long you layed there on the floor, however it soon began to grow dark. ever so gently, aaravos layed the two of you onto the floor, his hands shaking as though afraid he would break you. as you stared at him, you couldn't help but ponder a certain change on your lovers skin.

"where did it go?" you ask softly, motioning towards his chest. he looked at you in confusion and you added for clarification, "what happened to the star on your chest? why doesnt it glow anymore?" you couldn't help but feel you made a mistake, as you watched the flicker of shame and disgust cross your lovers face.

"it faded, along with most of my powers, when i, well.. when i fell and was imprisoned" aaravos answered softly. his voice was so fragile, barely a whisper as he spoke. "it is simply a blight upon my skin, a mark of my failure and punishment. a cruel scar. it paints me as nothing but a lightless monster, a burden, and a villain." disdain and self disgust seemed to leak from his voice, and he shuddered as he spoke. pain filled your heart at his words and you reached out to rest a hand on his chest. you wished there was a way to undo all the centuries of pain and trauma the both of you had endured while separated, and you wished you could help him understand his beauty.

"you are none of those things aaravos, that is just what the other dragons and elves want you to believe. however, i know that you are special, beautiful, and so, so strong because of your differences and you have fought and suffered for what you believe in. this star is a mark of your perseverence, and it is nothing to ever be ashamed of." you gently pulled your hand away, and placed it on your own chest. using some simple magic, you made your own hand glow with a soft orb of white light resting on your palm.

"you don't have to bear the weight and darkness of your burdens alone. let me share my light with you, and share your darkness with me." you reached out, pressing the glowing ball against his chest and watched a small, pained smile break through the sadness and doubt that had resided on aaravos' face, and he covered your hand with his.

"thank you my love, thank you for finding me, and for always reminding me of the light and the love that we share." he leaned in, resting his unoccupied hand on your cheek and pressed his forehead against yours lovingly.

"i love you until the end of time, and i believe that our love will last as eternal as the light that we share." his words seemed to touch your very soul, and released a flutter from your heart. for years you had drowned in your own misery, but you felt like you could finally breathe again. he was back, and you two were reunited. nothing would stand in your way every again, and neither of you would ever be separated by anyone or anything.

I HOPE THIS WAS TOO YOUR LIKING, THIS WAS SUCH A COOL REQ THANKS FOR REQUESTING!!! REQS ARE STILL OPEN, FEEL FREE TO REQUEST ANYTIME! this was such an emotional thing to write, and i genuinely really like this lmao tysm for the idea and inspiration!

[munson-blurbs]

BUGS!!!! Idk when you’ll get this but it’s me Sav (munsonology) 👾

What if Eddie catches you in the adult section at family video and you’re caught with the kinkiest tape they have 🤤 Eddie’s shocked because this is beyond the beginners level y’all are at but intrigued that his perfect girl is actually freakier than him 🥵

Savvvvv I adore you and your smutty brain 💚 I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: smutttttt (18+ only, minors GO AWAY), adult films, bondage, piv, some crying, slight breeding kink (?) idk, language

WC: 2.1k

--

Eddie thought he knew you pretty well. You'd only been a couple for a few months, but you'd been friends for years prior to getting together. If someone asked him what your favorite pizza topping was, he could confidently say it was mushroom. You were definitely more of a night owl than an early bird. You wanted to travel the world; Eddie wanted more than anything to take you on an African safari like you'd always dreamed.

And up until the moment he caught you in Family Video, he would've sworn up and down that your guilty pleasure was cheesy romantic comedies.

You'd had to cancel your date with him to finish up a paper for the class you were taking at Hawkins Community College, so Eddie trekked over to visit Robin and Steve and find something to occupy his unexpectedly empty night.

"Hey, Munson!" Steve greets him cheerily. "How's it been?"

Eddie shrugs his shoulders. "Can't complain. Y/N has to get some work done tonight. Figured I'd see if you guys had any new releases I could check out."

Robin crinkles her nose. "Y/N?" she questions. "She's right over there." She points over to the curtained-off section of the store and glances at Eddie knowingly.

Eddie's jaw could've hit the floor. You watched porn? Sure, you were amazing in bed, always knowing how to touch him and turning him into putty. Was it because you had done extensive research in the adult section of Family Video?

He quietly shuffles over to where you're standing, browsing the various titles. You're not interested in the same-old generic "plumber fixes lonely housewife's pipes" or "pizza boy delivers extra-large sausage pizza to sorority girls." You want something different, something to relax you from your stressful midterms, something kinky.

A title jumps out at you: Bonded Babes. The cover shows a woman clad in barely-there lingerie, tied to the bed with a ball gag wedged between her crimson lips. Perfect.

"Holy shit." The sound of a man's voice startles you, and you let out a little yelp. You look up to see your boyfriend, his eyes glued to the VHS you'd just selected. You hide it behind your back, feeling your whole body blushing.

Eddie steps towards you. "Whatcha got there, sweetheart?" he prods, cocking his head to the side. "Because that doesn't look like a John Hughes flick to me."

"'S nothing," you mumble, embarrassment flooding through you. "Just wanted to decompress after writing this stupid paper."

"Mmm," Eddie says knowingly, "so let me see what helps you relax, baby girl."

You shake your head wordlessly.

Eddie laughs. "C'mon, you really think you're gonna scare me off?" he protests. "You don't even wanna know what I watch."

You raise an eyebrow and decide to explore that comment further at another time. "I-I should probably get home. Back to my essay." But he blocks your escape, placing a strong hand on your stomach.

"Hand it over," he orders, and you reluctantly oblige.

"Don't judge me," you plead. What if he sees what you chose and is freaked out? He wouldn't be the first guy who couldn't handle your kinks and desires.

"Hmm," Eddie says, looking carefully, "haven't seen this one yet." He gives you a mischievous grin. "Wanna watch it together?"

You clear your throat, caught off-guard by the suggestion. "It, uh, might not be your thing," you offer lamely.

"Well, I guess there's just one way to find out, sweetheart."

~

Your roommate is out for the night, drinking away her midterm week nerves, so you bring Eddie back to your place. He's all too eager to pop the video in the player, practically breaking down the door to the apartment.

"Okay," he says, plopping down next to you on the sofa and pressing play, "let's see what gets my girl going, hmm?"

As with most porn, there's no real plot. This one gives the smallest backstory about a woman who keeps talking back to her boyfriend. The boyfriend--a buff dude with a perfectly waxed chest--decides to punish her and shut her up while he has his way with her. He uses handcuffs on her wrists and ropes tied tight around her ankles. The pièce de résistance, of course, is the gag that allows for moans and whimpers and nothing else.

You bury your head in your hands. "I warned you," you whine, "it's, like, a lot."

For the first time in his life, Eddie Munson is speechless. He finally says, "Do you...want me to do this to you?"

"It's a lot, Eds," you repeat shyly. "We don't have to."

"What if I want to try it?" he asks, and you gawp incredulously, bringing a laugh to his lips. "I have all kinds of fantasies about you, baby. Don't be too surprised."

You maneuver yourself so you're straddling his lap, grinding your aching cunt across the crotch of his jeans. The friction from both of your clothes only makes you wetter. You kiss down his neck as he grabs your ass, squeezing and pulling you even closer to him.

"Let's try it," you whisper in his ear, biting his lobe. You hear the people on screen groaning and grunting exaggeratedly.

With that, Eddie lifts you, hands never leaving your ass. He brings you to your bedroom, dropping you on the bed and raking through your drawers for T-shirts, grabbing two of them.

"I got the cuffs," he says, patting the accessory on his belt, "but no ropes. Gotta improvise."

"So innovative," you tease, beckoning him back to you with a flutter of your eyelashes. His lips crash into yours, pushing you down onto the bed as he climbs on top of you. The weight of his body pressing into yours always gets you so hot; you try and cope by slipping your hand down into your jeans, beneath your panties.

Eddie breaks the kiss and hums disapprovingly. "Baby," he chastises, "you're not gonna get yourself off when I can do that for you." He removes your hand from your clit and pulls off your shirt, exposing a lacy white bra. He sucks on the exposed part of your breasts as he fiddles with the clasp, and you moan softly when he unhooks your bra and runs his fingers over your hardening nipples.

"You're not denying me this," he growls, tearing off your jeans. His thumb grazes your panties, and he throws his head back when he feels how wet you are. He gets on his knees and kisses your cunt through the thin fabric, loving each twitch of your legs.

Eddie hooks a finger into the waistband and yanks them down, shoving them in his back pocket. "Gonna need these later," he tells you, sending a shiver down your spine. "Lay back on the pillow for me, sweetheart."

You do as you're told, hearing the click of the handcuffs unlatching. Eddie snaps one on to your left wrist, loops the chain around one of the backboard spindles, and brings the other cuff around your right wrist. "Pull for me," he says, and when you demonstrate that you're stuck, he smiles wickedly.

He grabs the shirts--old concert tees, you realize gratefully, nothing expensive or fancy--and ties one around each ankle, then to the spindles on the footboard, legs spread widely. "Wriggle around for me, baby. Let me see how good I've got you." Sure enough, you kick your legs with incredibly restricted movement. "Perfect," he muses.

"Eddie," you whimper, "need you to touch me. Need your fingers or your tongue or your cock. Something, please."

He laughs at this, reaching back into his pocket. "Thanks for reminding me," he says roughly. You feel a piece of cloth between your lips as your soaked panties are shoved in your mouth. "Don't wanna hear a word from you; just those pretty little moans."

"Mhm," you manage.

“Oh, shit,” he mutters. “Safe words. Uh, just say peanut butter if you need me to stop.” You nod in response.

With that, he brings his lips to your torso, trailing kisses across your tits and down your stomach. The contrast between your completely naked body and his fully clothed one turns you on even more, if that’s possible.

You let out a whine as he licks a stripe along your folds, slick coating his chin. “Taste s’good,” he groans before finding your clit and sucking on it. A guttural sound escapes your throat at the sudden stimulation.

“Already overwhelmed, baby?” he teases, words vibrating into you. “Good.” He focuses his attention back to your sensitive bundle, caressing it with his tongue. You buck your hips as one finger enters your pussy, limited by the makeshift ties.

You’re waiting for him to place another digit inside you, like he normally does, but now is not the time to expect anything. Instead, he withdraws his finger and his mouth from your sex, undoing his pants button and pulling out his hard cock. He brings it to your lips, removing the gag, but stops you before you can suck it.

“Spit on it,” he demands, and you spit on his dick. He uses it as lube as he fucks his fist right in front of you, stuffing the panties back in your mouth.

“You see what you do to me? he snarls, “I want you to use your hands, but since you’re being punished, I have to do it myself.”

You want to tell him that he can fuck your face; or better yet, your pussy, but the gag prevents you from articulating this. You writhe against the handcuffs, craving touch.

Eddie uses his free hand to grip the wrist closest to him. “Nice try,” he smirks, “but you’re not gonna cum until I say you can. Got it?”

“Mhm,” you croak out. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes as your frustration mounts. He wipes one away with a smile.

“Poor thing,” he taunts, “wants my dick so badly that she’s fuckin’ crying for it, huh?” He pumps himself until he’s so hard it hurts, precum beading at the slit. “‘S your lucky day, sweetheart. If I don’t fuck you now, I’m gonna cum all over my hand. And why would I do that when your pretty pussy is right there?”

He places himself between your legs again, tapping on your outer thigh. “Lift these hips a little for me.” You lift them obediently. “That’s a good girl.” You whimper at the praise.

He uses the combination of your slick and his precum to push into you, stretching you and mixing pain with pleasure. “Can you say my name with your mouth full like that?”

“Eddie,” you groan. It comes out muffled but neither of you care. “Eddie, s’good.”

He thrusts into you harder, yelling out your name as he does. His voice is gravelly and intense. “Gonna cum inside of you. Gonna mark my fuckin’ territory.” You’ve been on the pill, and he knows this, but he’s never finished in you before without a condom, always pulling out and spilling onto your tits.

“Yes, Eddie,” you chant over and over as he rubs circles on your clit while fucking you. 

“Be a good girl and cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel.” As soon as he says it, you release all over his cock, clenching around him as you hit your peak.

“You feel amazing,” he praises. “Can’t hold back anymore. Y’feel too good.” He empties inside you, long hot spurts coating your walls. When he’s done, a sweating and panting mess, you’re too sore to move. Still, you miss him in you as soon as he withdraws.

Eddie immediately removes the panties from your mouth, unlocks the cuffs, and unties the shirts. “Baby,” he purrs, “that was hot as shit.”

You nod in agreement. “Best sex I’ve ever had.”

He plants a long, gentle kiss on your mouth and runs to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. “Let me clean you up.” He wipes down your inner thighs, kissing them when he’s done. “I know this wasn’t in the movie,” he says with a small smile, “but I wasn’t about to leave my girl a mess.”

You return the smile gratefully. “Thank you, Eds.”

He crawls back into bed facing you, pecking kisses on your nose. “I love you, my freaky girl.” He sighs dramatically. “I mean, I already knew you were the one for me, but this just sealed the fuckin’ deal!”

You giggle at his theatrics. “I love you, too,” you say, kissing his forehead. “And next time, you can pick the movie. I can’t be the only freak in this relationship.”

--

[sagesolsticewrites]

touchstarved | Austin Butler x gn!reader

a/n: i was feeling incredibly touchstarved tonight and… this was the result dkfjadkfjh 

Word count: 942

Warnings: touch starvation, implications of depression?, reader is Not Doing Great mentally tbh (but it’s okay! happyish ending!!), would this qualify as hurt/comfort?? idk dkjghsdkh, I think that’s it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

Masterlist | add yourself to my taglist!

day 59 since Austin had left for Australia.

nearly two months since you’d felt his arms around you at the airport, warm whispers in your ear of see you soon and i love you and get home safe and i’ll call you the second i land.

and he had. in fact, he had been diligent about calling you nearly every day, even if it was just for a few minutes, just to hear your voice, and sending you good morning, sweetheart and sweet dreams, beautiful texts across the 18-hour time difference between the two of you.

but none of that changed the fact that he wasn’t here to hold you, kiss you, hug you, and you hated it.

if you were honest, you hated yourself a little bit for feeling this way. this was the biggest break of his career, and you were feeling sorry for yourself because you wanted a hug?

but it was more than that. you hadn’t been very affectionate with anyone before Austin, but in the past year or so of dating him, you’d gotten used to having someone to hold hands with as you were walking down the street, to hug when you got home from work, to cuddle with as you watched a movie. you thought you’d be fine while he was gone — you’d been fine before, hadn’t you? — but every time you woke up to his side of the bed being cold, every time your hand dangled at your side, empty, on the way back from your favorite coffee shop, every time you found yourself hugging a pillow during your solo movie nights… you felt like you were missing something essential to you.

touchstarved.

you had come across the term on some social media or other and though you hadn’t quite admitted that that’s what you were feeling, you quietly did some research and invested in a weighted blanket, a body pillow, and some face masks for when you needed a self-care day. 

and they did help, at least for a while. but some part of your brain was frustratingly insistent that nothing was going to help like Austin actually being here was.

he won’t be back for a while, you mentally retorted, shifting under the weighted blanket and hugging the stuffed elephant Austin had gifted you on your birthday even closer, so deal with it.

it was at that moment you heard what sounded like keys jangling at your door.

you froze. you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. was someone breaking in?!

You carefully sat up, dropping the stuffed animal as your hand crept towards the baseball bat you had ready near your bedside table. should you call the police? you wondered, but as you experimentally tapped your phone, it stayed dark. dead.

steeling yourself, you tiptoed out to the living room. better to try to catch them before they took anything, you figured.

you still heard something jangling at the door — had whatever they were using to try to pick the lock gotten stuck? — so it seemed like you had the upper hand for now. adjusting your grip on the bat, you readied yourself as the knob finally turned and—

the bat slipped from your hands, clattering onto the floor as you tried to process Austin walking through the door, the excited smile on his face slipping towards a look of concern.

“hey— woah, honey… Y/N, sweetheart, is everything okay?”

“i… i thought you were someone trying to break in,” you respond numbly, blinking repeatedly as if to assure yourself that this was real, “what… are you doing here?”

“i wanted to surprise you,” your boyfriend replies with a sheepish grin, closing the door behind him and turning back to you with his hands raised in innocence, as if to show you he means no harm. he takes a step forward as he continues explaining, “we were a little ahead on filming, so Baz gave us a little break—“

that one small step, though, was enough to snap you out what whatever spell you were under, and his explanation is cut short as you crash into him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his warm sandalwood scent that had slowly been fading from your pillows.

“i missed you,” you whisper against his skin, so soft that he doesn’t hear so much as feel your lips forming the words on his neck. you feel yourself shaking slightly, and under normal circumstances you’d be more than a little embarrassed, but right now you don’t care because he’s here, real and warm and solid underneath you.

“i missed you, too, sweetheart,” he chuckles in reply, though it’s tinged with worry as he feels you trembling. “hey, you okay?” he murmurs, moving to pull away so he can see your face, gauge how okay you really are.

but you don’t let him, your only reply being a nod of your head into the crook of his neck and a tightening of your arms around him, blinking back the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as it hits you just how much you needed this. he relaxes, seeming to recognize that he won’t be escaping the circle of your arms anytime soon, instead pulling you closer and murmuring soft i love yous and i missed yous into your ear.

he can ask you about how you’re feeling later — because clearly this goes deeper than a normal long-distance trip — but for now he lets himself relax into your arms, trying to make up for the nearly two month’s worth of hugs that he’s missed from you.

[angelmichelangelo]

on my hands and knees give us more crumbs from your human au pls

AH thank you!! im so glad you’re interested because it’s all that’s basically been on my mind for the longest time now :’) im up to like 38k words now? im currently working on chapter nine :] there’s still some big plot beats i still gotta work through but im very much excited to get round to it :)

i still kinda flip flop on the whole thing just cos. it’s got some pretty heavy themes. i know that’s not everyone’s thing when it comes to reading fic and i totally get that but it’s still pretty scary putting that out into the world, not wanting to feel,, idk judged in a way? writing this fic has been super cathartic in a sense. plus, sometimes darker themes are a way to kind of expand how you write — not everything is sunshine and puppies all the time and i quite like a bit of heavy hurt/comfort so yeah! hopefully other people enjoy it in that sense but it’s still a bit. EEK having to think about other people eventually reading it lol

here’s an little sneak peak, fair warning it IS angsty and unedited lol but hopefully you enjoy :D thanks again for your enthusiasm on this, it’s so super appreciated !!

x

He returns home before Raph and Alopex do, drowned out by the rain, it’s still not nearly enough to wash away the thousands of sins that seem to burn hotly against his skin as he’s reminded of what he had done with each step towards home.

He’d done so much for so little. He’d pushed and pushed, teetering until his toes were balancing over the edge. He’d let someone like Hun get right under his skin and latch on like a parasite.

He heads for the shower to drown away more of the mistakes he’d made so far.

When he’s finished scrubbing his skin almost red raw, he stands in the middle of the boxy little room, dripping wet, he reaches a hand out and swipes it through the condensation that clings to the mirror, revealing his sad little face from beneath it.

Ms Katri had told him once with a lot of conviction that most older people carry, that he was a frightfully handsome young man. Leo used to say it all the time too when they were little, tracing his fingers over the lighter patches of his skin over the bridge of his nose, telling him that each one was a kiss from an angel, because that was where he’d come from.

He wasn’t spat from his mother’s womb on a cold, dirtied kitchen floor. He wasn’t a child unloved and unwanted by a mother that bore the same sickness he’d inherited from her all these years later.

To Leo and to his brothers, his existence was still, somehow, supposedly a blessing.

His cheeks are drawn in and hollow, his eyes empty and dark. His hair is limp and untended to and looking past the bruises that still wrap around his skull and the red raised line that cuts through his bottom lip, looking back at the boy in the reflection, he can spot a thousand wounds and scars that he’s already had to carry in just nineteen, short, dreadful years.

It doesn’t feel like much of a blessing. It feels very much like a curse.

[tonks-21]

hey bestie! Dropping by to be your first ask!

kinda been thinking about a skz member one shot (its either chan, binnie or minho vibes for me but choose anyone you think matches lol)

flirty rivals + dancing…???

IDK I LOVE THE TROPE AND IT WORKS

use it as you will

P.S. (I wouldn’t be mad if you drop by my pfp yk… ;))

Crushing with you | Rivals (more like crushes) to lovers | Stray Kids

TW: +18, teasing

Content: fluff, slice of life, relationship, teasing

Wordcount: +1.100 words

Reader: fem reader

You were taking a break from training your seventeenth comeback. You were prettily alone as you had watched for an empty room to just let your mind go away from the pressure with the music you loved just playing in your airPods and you letting the learnt dance flow into your body.

You let a huge breath out and with the sound of insisting in your head “Just one more time”, you started the sequence once again. You had the music so loud, concentrated even with your eyes closed and you already had such a trained special perception that you could spend hours repeating the steps and you wouldn't bump into anything. But it seemed that something bumped or crushed you instead.

"Oh, I’m sorry, I will... get… out" a masculine voice flooded the entire crystal-wall room. But, as you didn’t hear him, he didn’t go out either. 

His arm remained extended and his hand grabbed on the knob as he was paralyzed admiring you. If you just opened your eyes, you’d see his opened eyes and his surprised and delighted expression.

Yeah, this man was enamored by your way of dancing. So perfect, so delightful to his eyes. His chest experienced a well known love tachycardia but he wasn’t bothered, as he could see you this way.

That paralyzed he was, that he didn’t notice Han passing behind him heading to the dorms. A smile painted into his face by seeing his hyung getting to life this soft moment watching his crush in such a passionate and wonderful moment. 

When realized you were done and with your eyes open, he closed the door and laid onto the door with his hands over his face.

"She was so beautiful…" he mumbled into his hands.

"What the hell…? "you questioned thinking you just saw a paranormal phenomenal when you saw out of the corner of your eye the reflection of the external light disappearing in contrast to the light in the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Some days before that, as some other groups were making their comebacks too, you had to share the training room with some people. You saw Bang and waved to him, but when he waved back, you saw he avoided long eye contact. But you didn’t overthink it, you were all anxious and a little nervous because of the comebacks, you may had done some, but you were always excited and worried about doing them at first.

So you landed your things in an empty place and you put your music on to relax a bit and then put on the song of the dance. 

After some tries, you got back to your things nearby and sat on the floor, drinking some wanted water and waiting for your heart rate to decrease.

You were looking at some Instagram posts and some Stray Kids publications appeared in your fyp. You were scrolling into them and you stopped without any reason in the one that Bang Chan appeared in. He was so nice in his outfit, everyone would do that, right? Yeah, but you weren’t like everyone. Another idol. With a crush on him. 

You knew it last year in one of their comebacks. You felt more than admiration towards him and when you talked to him he was so nicely and sunshine energy that you couldn't resist. You two just clicked somehow like you didn’t with anyone before.

But what you didn’t know is that he fell in love with you too. From the first very sight. And now you two don’t talk much but you aren’t avoiding each other either. So… it was just a pride game. Or a “let’s see who explodes before” type of thing. Because you two didn’t really know how to make readable hints for the other to take. You sure were flirty in jokes, but not far away from friendship at all. You two were really introverted people, with so much fear and respect for the possible consequences of this fact that you liked each other that you would not even see what the other thinks of each other.

So you were looking at that picture when your eyes made it over the phone and reached him practicing his comeback. He was just so nice. Even though it could seem aggressive dancing or a strange display as he was practicing alone, you loved to have that sight of him training (not mentioning the fact that his arms looked really good uncovered). When he finished, you instinctively got up and walked towards him.

"Hey" you told him, getting your hand up at the height of your jaw to make it clear to him that you were actually talking to him. 

When he glanced at you and got away one of his airPods he greeted you "Oh, hey there! You good?"

"Yeah… I just wanted to say it was good. The display and all" you really were a mess, not knowing what you were actually doing but wanting to keep doing it. And he loved that about you.

"Thanks" he was almost about to tell you that he was the one staring at you the other day. But he retreated.

"And I also saw your photo in the new comeback outfit. It was… so nice. I liked it, the colors fit so well with your hair and style in this new album" you said.

"Well, thanks again" he laughed softly and you trust you could have touchen the sky and told God you were in a fucking dream "Hey, I’ve just saw your too, yesterday, and I completely loved it. You looked… so beautiful with it on you" he said, reddening a bit "I-I mean you always are a-and look. But that outfit it’s so… you" he laughed at the last part, as if it didn’t have anything behind. 

"Yeah, messy, mixing colors and kind of soft texture" you described the type of fabric always suited you and made your fans yell their love towards your style “kinda badass too”

"Yeah, so cool…" he signed when he said that, as he wanted to tell you something else "Hey… You really are beautiful, you know" he finally said

"Uh? Thanks, you too" the atmosphere turned just the way two tried to avoid by clearly looking for it.

"You know … You… are kind of my case 143…" he murmured it as he didn’t want to say it out loud. As if saying it would make it real "Uh, it sounded better in my head, I promise!" he laughed of himself "so cheesy"

Yeah, it could have been cheesy, but damn if it made you fall even more in love with him. You laughed along as you pushed yourself instinctively closer to him.

"You really are a softie, aren’t you?" you whispered to him, really close to his jaw.

"Kind of. But you like me that way, Am I wrong?"he smiled widely. Finally letting all flow outside and getting that words from you made him lean into you.

"Totally, Wolfie" you said between his lips, having made the space between you two disappear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First time writing about this cute people we call Stray Kids , hope you enjoyed it! <3

[obitohno]

[ k i n k t o b e r ]

answerphone

hatake kakashi x reader

synopsis ⤸

work calls, but kakashi has you a little tied up. 

themes ⤸

fem! reader, 18+, dom! kakashi, sub! reader, (light) bondage, shibari, anal sex, fingering, slight double penetration (with fingers), squirting, anal creampie

word count ⤸

1k (unedited)

a/n ⤸

so, idk how many of you read naruto fanfictions, but this was the first fandom that i ever wrote for, so i just had to include it as a part of kinktober, so i hope that you enjoy! also, idk if dp counts if it's just fingers, but i included it as a tag just in case ;-;

reblogs are appreciated ~

the beauty of kakashi’s face is one that you—and you, only—are honoured with every morning that you wake by his side. 

you are also privy to the sight in the evenings, too, when he presses you beneath him, your gaze drawn to the beauty mark on his chin before it disappears from view when he noses at your jaw, his mouth closing over your pulse. 

instinctively, you’re reaching for a fistful of the silvery strands of hair that sit atop his head, only for your wrist to catch, halted by the burn of red that harshly bites into your skin. 

this isn’t the first time that he’s had you submit to him like this, the strands of scarlet crisscrossing a pretty pattern along your skin, your wrists knotted together with an intricate tie that you have no choice but to trust him to free you from once he’s had his way with you. 

between your legs, his prick stretches your second hole wide, the bulge of his girth repeatedly bullying its way past the tight ring of muscles that desperately suck him in with each lust-driven thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs. frustratingly empty, your cunt clenches on nothing but air, dribbling a translucent goo that aids the glide of his cock as it pistons into the heated cavern of your rear, your folds spread open by two long fingers that serve to do nothing but make your head spin, dizzy with the craving for more. 

when you voice this aloud, the warmth of his breath fans across your cheek, a chuckle huffed from between the very lips that are now spreading a tantalising heat along the stretch of your collarbone. 

‘more?’ he hums, a single, grey brow quirking upward, disappearing beneath the mop of silver hair. giddy with need, you nod your encouragement, choking on the saliva that pools on the flat of your tongue when a particularly rough thirst has you gasping. ‘didn’t realise you were so greed—’

he’s interrupted by an all-too familiar vibration that has the two of you stilling.  

the phone is ringing again. 

‘ignore it,’ kakashi is already drivelling his cock deep into your heat once more. 

with your hands bound together, connected to the centre of your chest by a second length of rope that has also been looped around the column of your throat, you can only stretch your arms so far, your fingers barely grazing his over his pectoral muscle that dances beneath the dampened surface of his skin. 

‘’s the third time,’ you protest. ‘it could be import—’

‘it’s saturday,’ he bemoans. ‘you can call ‘em on monday.’ 

his pelvis is pressed flush against your own, his hips gyrating, pubic hair brushing over your sensitive clit. again, he’s enamoured by the way that your cunt glistens with a fresh dollop of slick clenching from out of your hole, but to his chagrin, you’re distracted by the device that continues to ring. 

‘’kashi,’ your cheek is turning towards the bedside table, attention no longer focused on him. ‘i’ll get rid of them—just let me—’

‘no.’ 

in all the years that the two of you have known one another, rarely does he deny you, so when the singular word is snapped out from between those lips that you adore so much, you’re a tad startled by his sharp tone. 

‘no?’ you gape, glazed stare focusing on his beauty mark once again. his fingers are gently tugging at the rope that winds around your neck, and you blink, meeting his frown with a raised brow. ‘but—’

‘no,’ he says again, the pad of his thumb stroking its way inside your cunt, the muscles of your inner walls tightening around the offending digit. harder, his cock dives into your lower hole, forcing yet another choked moan from out of your mouth. 

‘no,’ you find yourself readily agreeing with him, his mouth is moulding to the shape of yours once more, tongue licking over the ridges of your teeth and over the smooth expanse of the insides of your cheeks. you can’t help the breathy giggle that whispers its way across his cheek, and in turn, he replaces his thumb with two, long fingers that wiggle their way inside you. 

your pussy welcomes the stretch, his fingers wider than your own, and you encourage the way that he stuffs you full, a high pitched mewl bursting from your mouth when his fingers crook, scissoring in time with the pace his cock grinds into you. you’re breathless, the whites of your eyes gleaming, lashes wetly blinking up to stare at the pinch that is forming between his brows. sweat dampens his skin, and when he sits upright, the movement jolts his cock and his balls tighten, abdominal muscles glistening with the evidence of his effort. 

wantonly, he groans a needy, desperate sound that has your cunt jumping as his fingers retreat from your walls, choosing to stroke fast, tight circles over your clit. sharply, you keen for him, hips rolling to meet each thrust that has him bottoming, his pelvis wetly connecting with the curve of your rear with a clap, clap, clap. 

you’ve long learnt the tell-tale signs of his fast approaching orgasm, expressing his bliss with a low, drawn out moan that pitches when he finally, finally crests.  

his seed spreads like fire, smothering your insides with the burning heat of him, your abdomen coiling, coiling, coiling until it snaps, quickly following after him. your tight walls milk him for all he’s worth, and at the same time, your pussy gushes, spraying a mess all over his pelvis, soaking the neatly trimmed of public hair that nestles the softening prick that still claims home within you. your chest heaves beneath the rope that’ll mark your skin for the next week or so, and he stares, the darks of his eyes heated with a craving that only you have ever been subjected to. the sight of your sap coating his thighs has your skin thrumming, and you’re now distracted by the way that both of your holes flutter simultaneously, consumed by nothing but him.

finally, the phone stops ringing. 

‘please leave a message after the—’

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.