#and let him read the phone book to me with that smooth voice

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"NIGHT TIME RELIGION"

EXTRA CONTENT- "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 2.3k+ → a/n: just a simple, sweet glimpse into what our favorite idiots' nighttime routine is like. probably got a little too poetic with it, as always <3

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

“You fell asleep again.” 

It’s not a question, just a mere observation. Eddie doesn’t even put any emphasis on the key word there, that it had happened again, as he glances up on you sprawled out on his couch. 

“Nuh uh,” you childishly rebuke, ironically squeezing your eyes shut tighter as you let your cheek nuzzle deeper into the page of the textbook you’d been taking notes on, “I’m… I’m wide awake.” 

Every word painfully slurs with your next, voice mostly muffled. If he hadn’t been so close to you from where he was sitting on the floor, he probably wouldn’t have been able to make out what you’d just murmured. 

It only makes him laugh softly as he focuses back on whatever piece of equipment he’d brought into the apartment that belongs to his bike, “Sure you are, sweetheart.” 

The coffee table is spread with hand towels and paper towels alike as Eddie fiddles with the hunk of metal. You hadn’t even prodded him about what it was he was fiddling with; you were too busy, knee deep in your studies as you’d made yourself comfortable in his living room. 

It was a normal routine now – something cozy, something domestic. Instead of being holed up in your dorm these days, you found yourself occupying apartment 2C far more frequently than you’d ever admit to anyone else. Half the time, the two of you didn’t even have plans. It wasn’t about elaborate date nights or purposeful hangouts anymore; these days, the two of you simply enjoyed one another’s presence. It was enough to just know he was there with you, in the same room, as the two of you were occupied with your own individual tasks. Sometimes, he would be reading a book as you wrote your essays. Sometimes, he’d steal your laptop to shop for new bike parts and accessories online as you caught up on your favorite TV shows. There had been plenty of phone calls with Nancy in which Eddie had let you simply rest your head in his lap, hands mindlessly carding through the scalp of your hair as he tried to offer assistance to his best friend’s daily troubles and rambles. 

It was nice, and it was normal, and it was something the rest of the world would have to pry from your cold, dead hands. 

The apartment could have easily become something akin to a prison after the bet, but it hadn’t. Instead, somehow and someway, you and Eddie had turned it into a proper sanctuary.

You no longer spent lectures daydreaming about returning to your dorm; your mind much preferred longing to return to Eddie’s room, to picture falling face down in his bed, where the pillow on the right side had begun to smell of your shampoo rather than his cologne. 

“It’s getting late,” he sighs when he hears you go silent again. He’s not annoyed by any means. If he had it his way, he’d probably curl up on the couch with you for the rest of the night, content to fall asleep to the view of your face smoothing out in peaceful rest. But he knows if he leaves you be, you’ll wake up with an aching back and an attitude that makes even Harrington cower. He puts down his project for the night, wiping his hands on a damp paper towel before he reaches blindly behind himself to give you a few taps on your rear, “C’mon, we need to get ready for bed.” 

You swat his hand away, and it only makes him grin, “It’s not that late. Plus, I’m comfy.” 

“It’s half past eleven, baby.” 

And oh, do you shoot straight up at that. 

Your eyes are finally wide open as you look at him wildly, face struck with confusion, “Excuse me?” 

“I said, it’s half past ele-”

“When the Hell did it get so late?” you fumble with yourself as he slowly gets up, making a show out of stretching all his limbs. You don’t even grow distracted when his arms reach well over his head and tug up his shirt, exposing that sliver of stomach that would normally entice you, “I swear to God, it wasn’t even ten like…. Ten minutes ago.” 

“Ten waking minutes ago, maybe,” he teases, holding a hand out for you, “Time flies when you’re napping instead of studying.” 

It’s hard for him to not smile so softly down at you right now, even as he watches the defeat take hold. Your entire outfit is compiled of his clothes, yet another t-shirt you’d snagged from him along with a pair of sweatpants that he can’t even remember the last time he’d worn them. Your hair is messy, falling out of the convenient style you’d fashioned in it hours before when you’d declared you needed to focus. Your shoulders sag, the corners of your mouth inch downward, and all he really cares about right now is getting you in bed so he can wrap himself up around you. 

Your eyes dart between his outstretched hand and your textbook, still open on a page that you’d embarrassingly drooled on, “I know we joked about celebrating when I aced my finals, but can we still get milkshakes when I absolutely flunk them?” 

The way you manage to melt his heart is impeccable. He doesn’t even have it in him to be snarky, or to make another menacing jokes, “Of course we can.”

That seems to make your decision. You finally reach out and take his hand, clearly trying to be dramatic as you pull on him with the entirety of your weight, almost as though your end goal was for him to actually end up beside you on the couch rather than to be standing beside him. 

If your goal is the former, you fail miserably. He doesn’t budge beneath your drag, only leaning forward to grab your other hand and properly haul you off the couch. 

“Oof,” you huff out as you collide with his chest from the force, letting your face smash into him and making no move to pull back, “Can’t you just carry me to bed? Is that an option?” 

He almost says yes. Almost. 

“We won’t even make it down the hall,” he chuckles, taking slow steps back, guiding you right along with him, “I may or may not have also dozed off at some point. Jury’s still out on that one.” 

“Is it?” 

You’re hardly lifting your feet, shuffling your way along, letting him walk you deceiving to the bathroom rather than the bedroom. He has no idea if you’ll be capable of doing your full skincare routine, but at the very least, he has to get you to brush your teeth. If he didn’t, he’d never hear the end of it. 

“It is indeed,” he finally stops walking backwards, deciding it might become more dangerous rather than just dragging you along, “Probably won’t get a ruling until morning, so we might as well brush our teeth now, doll.” 

He’s trying to sweeten the deal. Coaxing you with adoring pet names to keep you in motion. 

“Ugh, effort,” you crunch your nose as you say it, and it’s clearly more for show than anything now. You’re fully conscious, capable of getting yourself to the bathroom sink where both your toothbrushes now sit side-by-side in a glass cup, but you don’t let go of his hand just yet. 

His palm is warm, and right now, all you really wanna do is curl up in that heat. 

Eventually, though, you let go. The two of you stand in the mirror as you go through the motions of wetting your toothbrushes, applying the toothpaste – all the boring, mundane actions that are more habit than conscious choices. But interspersed in the habits you’ve gathered over your years of life are new ones, minimal but vital after the amount of time spent together. Proof of the way this nighttime routine had become something of a religion between the two of you, something to be offered and to be shared rather than simply going through the motions. 

The way Eddie carefully rolls the end of the toothpaste tube before passing it to you, simply so it’s easier for you to get your share of it. The way you leave the water running after you’ve wet your own brush just so Eddie can also do so. All the sneaky glances caught in the mirror as the corners of your mouths foam up. Every ridiculous face, every nimble bump of your hip to his, the way he sticks out his very white tongue at you before he spits out into the basin – new things that have all become the normal, but still settle warmth in your chest.

Things that water a garden of vinery and blooms that no longer only belong within the confine of your bones, but his as well. 

A shared garden of memories and comfort. Growing, flourishing, nurturing one another. 

You lean down to spit right before him, and when you take a second too long, he tugs on a strand of your hair, trying to move you. And even as tired as you are, you find it within yourself to be a little shit as he so lovingly mumbles out around his toothbrush, lingering until he’s bumping you with his hip with purpose. 

Passing the floss back and forth (or more like you shoving the floss into his hands before he can try to argue against it), using the same paper cup to sip mouthwash out of – something so bland that you used to do it alone, now something to enjoy with him. 

You kind of love it. You kind of love him. 

“Should I wash my face?” you question, leaning in closer to the mirror and poking at your cheeks, checking your skin for any blemishes you can find. 

Eddie only moves behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and making the entire ordeal far more difficult as his chin rests on your shoulder, “Not if you don’t feel like it. Besides, it’s gonna make your nose cold, and then you’re gonna press it all over my damn neck and-” 

You cut him off with a joking glare, reaching up to flick at his nose, but he’s quick to pull his face out of your reach. Smiling widely, showing off those fresh and minty pearly whites. 

“If my cold nose bothers you that much, I could just stay on my side of the bed tonight,” you scowl, even though you were already taking his advice and calling it a night, twisting out of his hold to flick the lightswitch and exit the bathroom. 

He’s still stronger as he keeps his arms in place, only twisting himself around to face the door frame right with you, whining in your ear, “No.” 

He drags out the ‘o’, his voice slowly growing more quiet the longer he draws out the vowel. At some point, it’s less than Eddie has ended the protest, and more that he’s just run out of breath. 

His arms only leave your waist for the two of you to get dressed in proper pajamas. Well, what you both consider proper pajamas. 

You, left in only his shirt and underwear, and Eddie simply in his boxers. 

There’s no more sarcastic comments or lazy banter, although you certainly expect it. You’re almost holding your breath for it, right up until Eddie’s lifting his comforter and eagerly motioning for you to climb into bed first. Not one smartass remark about ladies first that could easily backfire on him as you shoved him into the bed before you. 

No, he waits until the two of you are lying on your sides, facing one another, not quite touching when his face breaks into a radiant smile. 

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him, overly suspicious of his random burst of happiness. 

“You call it your side of the bed.” 

At first, you don’t get it, “What?” 

“You called it your side of the bed,” he repeats with the utmost emphasis, finally throwing his hand out in search of your own, pulling it up to eye-level so he can toy slowly with each of your knuckles. 

“Is it not?” you’re whispering like two children at a sleepover, your feet finally drifting to toe at his calves. If they’re too cold for his liking, you don’t know. He doesn’t flinch or complain, only spreads his legs ever so slightly so there’s a space left for you to fill as you intertwine limbs. 

“It is,” he confirms, nodding a little, finally slotting his fingers between your own, “Just nice to hear you say it out loud.” 

And suddenly, you get it.

It’s your side of the bed. It’s your toothbrush resting beside his. Your textbooks and laptops are still on his couch, you have a sticky note with a reminder for yourself to buy more milk  put up on the fridge, there’s now a space for your shoes at the front door right beside his daily boots – slowly but surely, you’ve whittled out spaces for yourself here, with him. 

Even when you’re not here in this apartment with him, your presence remains. Someone could walk in, and they still see traces of you. You exist here, constantly, right along with Eddie. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back, finally scooching closer. He immediately shifts so that you can cuddle into his side, your head resting against his chest and your ear pressed to listen to his thrumming heartbeat. A perfectly carved out space for you even here, between this sheets, against his skin, “It’s nice to say out loud.” 

Not a routine, but a religion. Something to worship in the quiet hours between the sound of quiet snores and a noisy coffee maker you already have plans to replace as a Christmas gift to Eddie. An apartment turned altar, with offerings from both of you, to all that has and could become. 

You whisper your final prayer, just as you do every night, even when you think Eddie might already be fast asleep, “G’night, Eddie. I love you.” 

He’s not already asleep. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

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#ghost is bad at endings for one shots can you tell #ghost's stories #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #beyond the hours #not edited and you can tell but we persevere

[carolmunson]

carol’s at the laundromat mat, so:

older!modern!eddie it is.

(tw: implied sexual themes, implied smut/spanking idk. they argue but it’s kind of hot leave me alone.)

Gwen whines, not used to having to sit still for so long and the iPad lost her interest twenty minutes ago. He bounces her on his lap to try and make her laugh but she’s tired and grouchy; he’s out of snacks — forgetting how long this takes when he’s not in control of it. When the only thing you can do is wait.

“Wan’ go home daddy,” she pouts, resting her curly head on his shoulder, “Pwease.”

“I know you do, baby girl,” he coos, big ringed hand smoothing over her back, “But we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t put your crayons in the washing machine.”

She huffs, burying her face in his neck and pushing her body further into him. Maybe if she melts his heart enough he’ll relent and take her home; but he can’t leave you here to do it all yourself.

You come over from switching the loads into the dryer; it’s a dead night so you can use a few to make the process a little faster. You’re about as grouchy as Gwen is; annoyed that you had to retreat and wash the loads you did originally and now that you have to get the washing machine professionally fixed. You run your tongue over your teeth when you sit down next to them, crossing your arms against your chest with a huff that matches your daughters.

Two grouchy girls.

“Why don’t you take her home and I’ll fold it all?” he offers quietly.

“No. I’m the one doing the laundry because you’re so out of touch you can barely work a laundry card. You can deal with an angry toddler,” you snap.

“Well right now I’m dealing with two angry toddlers, so,” he snaps back with a shrug; his voice is cool and calm. The measured tone puts warmth in your chest; perks up your posture.

“I’m not acting like a toddler,” you say back, Gwen occupied now with Eddie’s phone, looking at herself in the front facing camera.

“All that huffing and puffing?” his brows raise, “Coulda fooled me.”

“Shut up, Ed,” your voice sour, reaching into your canvas tote to take out a book while you wait for the clothes to run through the dryer.

“Steeb!” Gwen smiles, the FaceTime ring coming in with his photo in the corner. Eddie tosses you a tight look before answering the call, connecting an AirPod to one ear and the other on Gwen.

“Hold on to it, Gwenny,” he instructs.

“Kay, daddy,” she nods while he holds the phone in front of her face. Steve smiles at the sight of her.

“Hi girl,” he coos, “How are you, lady?”

“We’re at the washa-masheen sto’,” she smiles.

His brow quirks, Eddie leaning forward to explain her toddler-ese, “We’re at the laundromat.”

“Ew. Why?” Steve’s face sours at the thought of a laundromat, sharing machines, leaving things behind.

“Your favorite girl put her 64 pack of crayons in the washing machine so we have to get it repaired,” he sighs.

“Aww, Gwenny,” he pouts into the screen, “You silly girl.”

“It was by assident,” she pouts, lower lip jutting out.

“I know,” he matches her face back at her, apologetic voice on, “You’ve never done anything bad in your life. You never will.”

Eddie let’s a puff of breath out of his mouth with a roll of his eyes, “Yeah wait until she breaks something of yours before you say that.”

“She’s an angel every time she’s in Chicago,” Steve shrugs, “Maybe it’s just you. You’re an angel, right Gwen?”

“I’mma angel, Daddy,” Gwen nods, not really knowing what she means. Eddie giggles at her, running a hand over her soft curls.

“Yeah you are,” he smiles down at her before pressing a kiss to the back of her head while she babbles at Steve. He can still feel your frustration emanating off of you while you hastily turn a page in your book.

He takes a the headphone out of his ear before turning his head your way, voice low with warning, “Sorry, am I bothering you?”

“M’just trying to read,” your voice teeters on bratty when you whisper back to him with narrowed eyes, “You’re both being so fuck—freaking distracting.”

His mouth falls opens slightly in a surprised smile, “You’re in rare fuckin’ form tonight, you hear me?”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” your brow furrowed and on defense.

“Why don’t you go home? I’ll fold while Gwen talks to Steve,” he offers again, “Maybe you can figure out where all this attitude came from on the way there.”

“You can’t carry all that back with Gwen,” you counter, head nodding towards the empty laundry bags next to him.

“We’ll take a car,” he nods bitterly, “Go home. We’ll see you in a little.”

There’s no room for arguing, not when he puts on his authority voice. A voice normally reserved for Gwen when she’s in need of some parental guidance; but he’s used it on you a few times. A reminder — still twelve years your senior.

You suck in your cheeks, chewing on the skin for a minute while you consider it. You put your book back in your bag, tossing your keys in too, “Fine.”

“Fine,” he retorts back. He bounces Gwen to get her attention, “Say bye to mommy, honey.”

She turns, her big baby eyes rounding with confusion, “Bye mommy?”

“I’m gonna run home and start dinner, Gwenny,” you smile at her, forcing yourself not to be annoyed while you soothe her, “You want some chicken tenders and rice?”

“Ya,” she giggles, “Please.”

“Good manners, girlie,” you smile, kissing her on the forehead, “See you in a little.”

“See ya in a widdle,” she parrots back.

“Where’s Peach goin’?” Steve asks when Eddie puts the headphone back in his ear, watching you leave through the automatic doors.

“Home,” he sighs, rubbing his temple, “Dealing with two bratty girls today.”

“Ouch,” Steve nods, “Sorry about that — but, to be fair, Gwen is never bratty.”

“I’m gonna hang up on you, man,” he laughs, pushing his curls out of his eyes while Gwen takes over the conversation again; finally smiley and settling.

Eddie gets home later with the folded laundry and a napping three year old on his hip. He barely speaks when he brings the clothes upstairs and puts Gwen in her room while you work on dinner in the kitchen. Just like the both of you to hold a mini grudge when you don’t know what you’re arguing about in the first place.

He eases down the metal spiral staircase, jeans swapped out for sweats and long socks, t-shirt with the arms cut out that show off his arms and the tops of his obliques.

“You got somethin’ you wanna say to me?” he asks. You slam the oven in response.

“Ooh, okay,” he nods, perked up at the challenge, “Look’it me, huh?”

You look at him from under your lashes, aggravation pumping through you — you don’t even know why you’re mad anymore.

“What’s your problem?” he asks, making his way over to you, pressing you up against the counter while his arms come around to cage you in.

“Just — I don’t know, tired,” you shrug.

“Tired?” he laughs, tilting his head down to run the tip of his nose over your neck, up over your jaw, “You sure?”

Your needy sigh clues him in, you’re not tired.

“Think you need me to help you get over it,” he purrs, “Don’t you, baby?”

You whimper in response, he leaves a long kiss at the hinge of your jaw, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you later. I promise.”

“You’re insufferable,” you sigh, trying not to give in to him but wanting to desperately.

“That’s why you married me,” he smirks, coming back up to kiss you softly on the lips, “But keep it up, sweetheart. All that mean girl shit. See if I go easy on you.”

Later that night; you’re both grateful that his office is soundproofed.

#orange colored sky #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction

[strwberri-milk]

Midnight Blues

Rafayel x Reader || Mild Insomnia, Comfort || 1 184 words

a/n: my toxic trait is pretending im a singer and compiling songs into albums and naming them and midnight blue is the name of the hypothetical album that encapsulates falling in love with rafayel and i guess i could make a playlist bc thats the normal thing to do but i just name fanficitions after them ig. also this is based off his treasure secret time - idgaf about the mensturation i only care about the fact that hums your ass to rest and the lore drop that is rafayel calling you at night when the two of you first start met bc it would help you sleep

You can hardly remember what nights were like before without the sound of his voice in your ears.

You sigh as you sink into your bed, staring up at the ceiling after doing another quick lap around the house to try and tire yourself out. Your body is tired, you know it is. You just wish that you could sleep, not at all excited about the prospect of having to go to work tomorrow after being unable to sleep all night.

You’re about to start your nightly routine of tossing and turning when your phone suddenly starts to ring. A smile makes its way onto your face as you recognise the caller ID, putting your phone against your ear and humming lightly to alert the other side to your presence.

“You’re still awake, huh?” Rafayel’s teasing tone asks through the phone. The two haven’t known each other long but that didn’t seem to bother Rafayel in the slightest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, putting your phone on speaker next to you on the pillow.

All it took was falling asleep one time in a conversation with him for Rafayel to pounce on that and decide to take advantage of it. You swore up and down that it was a mistake, that it wasn’t because of Rafayel that you fell asleep but deep down you know that something about that silky smooth timbre of his voice made your worries go away. You’d never slept so soundly, mortified at the teasing text that he sent you when you read it in the morning.

However, you had to admit defeat and let the man do whatever he wanted. Even before you met him it was clear that Rafayel didn’t care much for whatever the people around him want. He does as he pleases and now, it seems that he’s convinced you won’t sleep without him talking to you.

“If you wanted me to call you all you had to do was ask,” he says after a while, letting you get settled in bed.

“I’m grown. I can take care of myself,” you reply, Rafayel imagining a slight pout on your features as you did so.

“Ah, I see. So you don’t need me to talk you to sleep then? I’ll hang up then.”

“Wait!” you shout quickly, shooting out of bed and grabbing your phone.

“Don’t…don’t go. Please?”

“Begging now? I guess if you’re that desperate for my company I’ll give it to you.”

You can hear how smug he is, rolling your eyes at how obvious his tells are. You wonder how Thomas hasn’t figured him out yet – Rafayel isn’t nearly as sneaky as he seems to think he is.

“Are you driving?” you ask after a second, settled back into bed again and listening carefully to his end of the call.

“I’m heading back from an exhibition. I could have booked a hotel but I didn’t feel like staying the night there so I’m making the long drive home. I called you to see if you’d keep me company.”

You tug your blankets around yourself, losing yourself in their warmth as you yawn. The exhaustion begins to sit on your shoulders again but this time, it feels more manageable. His voice swims around your head as he starts rambling about the exhibition. You’re glad to hear that it went off without a hitch, having declined his invitation yourself due to a more urgent task of the day.

“Are you even listening to me?” he asks, bringing your attention back to him.

“Hmm? Yeah, sellers bullying you, people hitting on you, same old same old,” you mumble, burying yourself further into your bed.

“If you didn’t like it that much, why didn’t you just make something up to get out of it?”

“I couldn’t bail on Thomas again. I felt bad for him constantly fielding off journalists and this show was supposedly a big deal so I decided to do him a favour. Plus, I blew off all the shows so far this month so I might as well make myself seen at a more important one.”

Leave it to Rafayel to make doing his job seem like a favour to someone else. Even if he acts like he’s got his head in the clouds you know he’s genuinely kind – if you’ve got the patience to go digging through the layers that make up the enigmatic artist. You feel thankful that the world brought you to him, even if you weren’t sure what the budding feeling in your chest is.

“You had a long day, huh? I can hear it in your voice.”

You give him another hum, not wanting to bother with any words.

“Even if I ask you a question you don’t need to reply. It’s getting late and I won’t be home for at least another hour. I really did just want your company you know. I’m glad that you answered my call. It would have been miserable if I had to drive home all alone.”

It doesn’t take Rafayel much time to start rambling at you again. You don’t know how he manages to find anything and everything to say to you and keep himself entertained, laughing at his own jokes and taking the soft noises you make as jumping off points to completely go on a new tangent.

When he hears your light snores and steady breathing, he smiles to himself. The sound of your breath surrounds him in his car and if he weren’t such a responsible driver, he’d close his eyes just to pretend that he’s laying in bed with you.

Normally, Rafayel was perfectly content driving home in silence, finding the long expanse of road the perfect opportunity to ground himself after all of the cameras and people in his face. Honestly, he only left when he did to make sure he’d be able to call you at the same time he did every night. Your inability to sleep well worried him and even if you didn’t fully understand the extent of his feelings towards you, he wouldn’t let that get in the way of taking care of you. You make him happy after all, especially when he hears you try to rouse yourself from sleep in a desperate attempt to show him that you’re listening to him. The mental image of your sleepy eyes trying to focus on his face makes his heart melt, impatiently tapping his finger against the steering wheel at the annoyance of being unable to call you his just quite yet.

Even when he gets home, he doesn’t hang up on you. He’s careful to do his nightly routine quietly, using the sound of your breathing as his favourite symphony and he settles down for the night himself. He even continues to speak to you softly, wanting to make sure that his voice lulls you into a truly restful slumber. He thinks about you a lot and being able to help you in any form always makes his heart feel so full.

He won’t admit that talking to you on these late nights makes him sleep well too, putting his phone on the pillow beside him before falling asleep to thoughts of you.

#love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #lads rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lnd rafayel

[literally-noone83]

Silver Tongue

18+

A/n: Idk what this is. This thing has been sitting in my drafts for so long, and I haven't posted in forever... so. I finally finished it. Here we go, enjoy.

He could listen to you for hours...

The God of Mischeif, the silvertongue of Gods, he's the God who loved to hear himself speak. Words dripped from his lips like honey, or boomed from his depths in power. He enjoyed talking, it was his tool beside his dagger he welded equally graceful and skillfully.

He'd use it to spark the fear in cowering swine, use it to make snide and conniving comments to wound up midgard's heroes, or to caress your ears just to see you go flush red. His words were his way to get what he wanted but... he found your words all the more captivating.

It wasn't like you were doing this on purpose. On the contrary, you found yourself trying not to spiel thoughtless things to the closest person. For the longest time, Loki saw you for your reverence, your shyness as you worked away in the Avengers Tower. He did know your voice tk be tender and sweet in the caveats of days that passed with your kind greetings, small talk with colleagues and phone messages at your desk, but the moment you got latched on to a topic... Loki found himself listening a little bit more closely.

He watched as your eye lit up, your soft lips breaking out into a grin, one that twitched hesitantly as ti contain the visible excitement he saw bubble up inside you. He'd interrupt anyone in the room that may have been talking over you just to inquire on this small matter with you — a book, a movie, a part of history, a niche topic, a notion — and naturally a blush threatened your cheeks. His eyes softened, nodding to letting you know he was listening and the ends of his lips lift to see that was all you needed -- a greenlight that someone cared. Your hesitant words grew to rants, knowledge flowing from you. Your articulation, the fine words you kept in your hidden reputiore, alongside these thoughts. Soon there were days it was just you and him, sitting somewhere hed catch up, comfortably laxed as he hummed at your shared conversations that transformed into your personal monologues hed sit audience to. All of which hed constantly instigate...

"The- then I read an article about ahh- uhm, L-loki?" You breath hitched and he smirked.

"Yes, darling?"

"You- uh, you sure you want me to..." You breath hitch at the way his breath fans your sensitive neck, "Oh yes, dear." His slender hands trail over you hips and god-perfect thighs under that hideous coat.

"Keep talking to me, you know how much I love your voice." His voice hums lowly, kissing that spot under your ear making your shudder slightly. "So sensitive..." He comments smugly.

He had you situated on your desk. Useless things in his eyes pushed to the side to make room for you. How you got into this situation, who knows. And most importantly, who cares? He stood between your legs, up and close tasting your skin and finally feeling how fucking maluable you are in the palm of his hands. Atlas, hearing you shudder and stutter in his ear, under his touch, it was like he was in Valhalla.

"mm darling~" He purrs. "I don't hear you talking..."

You face flushes. You couldn't think straight. "R-right."

"What this article about, hm? I'm listening..." His words end with another wet kiss to your collar bone. A badge of his sincerity.

"it... it was about mythological.... p-paintings." He hums against your skin, kisses trailing your delicate skin.

"Is that right?" He murmurs, before sucking experimentally on a spot only to smirk at the gasp and sigh he elicits from you almost instantly.

"A-about gods and hah..." Loki rubs circles over your hips. "About their heavenly battles," his hands run over your underside of your thighs, smoothing over the plushness before gripping it needily, "them as legends... their- their beauty." He pulls you close to the edge, and your eyes widen at the feeling of his bulge against your inner thigh.

"No need to read about gods when you already have one in the palm of your hands, darling." His snake-like gaze meets yours, his nose brushing yours. His emerald eyes glimmer at your flushed complexion. His fingers graze the band of your leggings. "May I?" He asks softly.

You nod your head.

In a rough yet swift motion, he easily pulls down your pants past your ass and down to your thighs. You watch as his gaze darkens at the sight and you blush, embarrassed. The way his eyes are glued to the wet patch over your clothed pussy makes you squirm. "Lokii..." You whine softly at his long silence. He ignores you. His slender fingers suddenly brush your damp panties, marvelling at the way your cunt involuntarily quivers. He could feel his cock twitch at the view.

His hand comes up hard against the underside of your thigh. The harsh slap echoes in the empty office space. He towers over you and your knees held together by the band of your leggings, hugging your thighs deliciously. One of his large hands pinning you in this position from the back of your knee while the other rubs the pink mark of your skin in forgiveness.

"You stopped speaking, my pretty dove~" He says. His palm travels to your drooling pussy, and he glances at it. The smug grin on his lips widens ever so slightly, satisfied by the growing dark spot on the thin fabric. He audibly groans at the feeling; the wetness pressed against his skin, the heat that radiates from you. All for him, he thinks.

"I want to hear it. Your melodic voice, darling." He continues. Your breath hitches as he drag his middle and forefinger down your slit so easily. "You may think no one's listening... the way you murmur and talk so sweetly, to even the most unworthy of such a sound..." His flattery words drip from his silvery tongue akin to honey and poison. "You have no idea the state you reduce me to when you whisper instructions in my ear when I'm on those god-awful missions... it's the only reason I keep attending." He preens, and he sinks a thumb in your clothed fold, a devilish smirk gracing his lips at your shocked and broken moan.

His eyes glimmered at the way you struggle to walk the line of thought and the abyss of pleasure. He leans down, his lips just tickling the shell of your ear. He breathes steadily compared to your laboured breaths, pausing for a moment to resist the urge to bite you before speaking, "So I want you to speak, my love. I want to hear you babble every frivolous thought as I ravish you. Fucking you to the sound of you trying to retain a single coherent notion. Choking on your words as I listen intently... giving you the attention you deserve, darling."

He pulls back slowly, his nose lightly caressing your cheek as he meets your cloudy eyes. Through hooded lids, his intense gaze flickers over your flushed expression. Your desperate eyes and parted lips, swollen from how much you bit them just to controll yourself — only makes him want to try harder to push you over the edge. You feel his thumb press up against the hood of your clit, and the way you whimper and pull at his clothes, tells him he's the first to ever touch you like this.

"Mm, would you like that?" He whispers. "Finally give you the attention you always deserved?"

He presses on your clit, "m- y-yes! Yes Loki, please." You blurt, you felt like you were going to cry.

"Oh darling..." He removes his hands off you to cup your face. A wanton whine bubbles up into your throat until the feeling of his lips against your forehead, dissolving your pent-up frustration for just a moment. "Patience." He says softly. "I'll give you want you so clearly desire..." His forehead touches yours. Burning hot skin against his contrastingly cool complexion.

However, looking up into his eyes, they were burning with want.

"Let's start with the article's first paragraph, shall we?"

He was going to eat you alive.

#This is actually so bad WHA #Help #first spicy thing ive posted #Couldnt even go all the way #thats he said- #sorry bad joke anyways #Loki #the avengers #loki #loki series #loki laufeyson #loki season 2 #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki × reader #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x f!reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #ok enough exposure

[popquizhot-shot]

Everything is fine -2

A/n: aaaaah thank you so much for waiting for part 2! sorry it's been so long im having fever and i had electoral campaigning to do so i've been so busy :DDD enjoy some revenge and a moment&lt;3 not proofread so please excuse any mistakes

Part -1

The house is quiet when you enter. Spotless. As if it’s been frantically cleaned and the dust has been swept under the rug. You want to laugh. The bedroom door swings open but this time, he’s awake. He’s reading a book, his bottom half covered by the blanket. He looks up as you close the door and place your tote on the desk.

“Hey, baby.” he smiles and you let the corners of your mouth lift a little.

“I need some air.” you say and draw the curtains, unlatching the window and pushing it open. The night breeze is cool and the air in the room seems fresher. You stick your head out a little and breathe deeply, looking down.

You’re known to have the most absolute, shit eyesight, but even you can the the glow of red eyes a floor below you. You smile and draw back, Taking a towel from the cabinet and heading to the bathroom without a word, leaving your husband confused.

He can hear the shower turn on, and a few seconds later, the singular lamp in the roo switches off, leaving him in complete darkness. 

Miguel swears in frustration and huffs under his breath. His eyes come to focus as he gets used to the dark.

The only sounds are the rush of water in the shower, yet he feels the silence is eerie. The wind picks up, it’s almost howling, It sounds like a wail. His breathing quickens a little, and his eyes fall to the little expanse to the outside world.

He freezes. There’s something outside.

On the 18th floor. Staring at him. It’s eyes glow a deep red and he can see claws gripping the window sill. 

He wants to shout, to scream, to fucking move. But he can’t. 

The bathroom door swings open and he looks at you, then back at the window.

There’s nothing. No one.

“What’s wrong, honey?” your voice is soft and breezy, “It’s just the dark.” 

He looks almost manic, hunched over as he looked between you and the window, “There w-was something there. With red fucking eyes and it was staring at me.”

He looks at the window again and that’s when he shouts, “There!” he points and jumps off the bed, “Right there!”

You look to where he points and in the dark, you know he won’t see your smile. But Miguel will. 

You tilt you head, “Miggy, there’s nothing there. Are you okay?”

“Wha- how can you not see that?!”  he sputters and you walk over to him, turning his face away from the window, “Calm down, love. I think we should go to a doctor. In fact, I’ll make an appointment tomorrow, it’s the weekend anyway.”

 He takes your hands off his face and sighs, “I know what I saw.” he hugs you.

Your eyes flit to the window and you see one of the scarlet eyes shut in a wink. And then they disappear.

Your hand smooths his hair down, “We’ll be just fine.”

—---------------------

“I think it’s just stress, Miggy.” you say as you drive back from the clinic. He’d been subject to a number of tests by the doctors trying to find something wrong with one of the head scientists of the corporation that funded their work. Of course, they found nothing, but they did advise him to rest,  “After all, you spend so much time at work.” you shake your head in pity, “I’ll take off for a few days.”

“No!” he winces when you turn to look at him with an eyebrow raised, “I mean, no, you don’t have to. I’ll be alright. It’s just stress. You dob’t have to sacrifice your work.”

“Oh nonsense.” you wave him off, “It’s not a sacrifice to take care of the man I love. Unless, you want me to stay out of the house.” you chuckle, “You want me to stay out, honey?”

“No.” his voice breaks, “Of course not.”

A ting! Sounds from his phone and you peak at the notification thats from Dana.

“Is Dana coming over?”

He double takes, “How- nevermind. Yeah, she said she’d be visiting in an hour or so.”

You hum, with a small smile and swerve to the right, and he jerks and almost hits head on the window. You park, “Could you bring the groceries in?” you gesture to the shopping you’d gotten done when he was at the clinic. You smile and get out, leaving him behind.

He sighs and gets out, shutting the front seat door while opening the back one and taking out the paper bag. He notices a man standing opposite the car with his back turned to it.

He’s wearing the same clothes that Miguel’s wearing. And when he turns around he takes his shades off and he stares at him with red eyes. Miguel draws ina sharp breath.

If you ever see someone that looks identical to you, run away and hide.

His phone rings and he looks down at it and cuts the call. When he looks back him, the figure has disappeared. Shit. Shit.

Run away.

Hide.

He looks to his right, to where the entrance to the building is and he doesn’t even take a step before pain blooms across the back of his head. He doubles over with a groan but is pulled back by his hair and he can feel a sharp pain at his neck.

Then, darkness.

—-----------------------------------

“Miguel, I swear to god.” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “This wasn’t the plan!  How do I explain how he magically arrived here after fainting downstairs? You know the plan was that I dru-”

“Tell him a tall, nice man helped you.” he snarks and you resist the urge to throttle him. You settle for a glare that makes him chuckle.

“Relax, Sweetheart. He’ll believe you. Now I've healed the puncture with bacta spray and the wound is gone.” he gestures to the man currently spread out on your shared bed, “I need you to wake him up, tell him he passed out from exhaustion. I’ll take it from there.”

You look up at him, “Thank you. For wasting your time on this.”

His hand comes to rest on your shoulder and it tingles, “No time wasted, I assure you.” he nods reassuringly, “Now wake him up.” He rolls his shoulders and settles down on the plush couch you have that faces the bed.

You flick some water from the bottle you keep on the bedside table onto your husband’s face and when he wakes with a start, you fall into the role of the worried wife.

“Oh my god! Miggy! You’re finally awake!” you cup his face, “I was so worried! Are you okay?” His widened eyes look inyo yours and his furrowed eyebrows soften.

“I-I blacked out. There was this guy who looked like me and-” his gaze travels behind you to fall on the couch and he freezes at the sight of the menacing man staring at him with those fucking red eyes. 

Run away and hide.

“Baby.” he looks back at you, “Do not  look back.”

The room is silent. You can see Miguel in the reflection of your husbands eyes. Like the snap of a branch, the doorbell rings and youre forced to turn around, much to your husband’s protests. 

You lock eyes with Miguel and look back at your husband with incredulous eyes, “Miguel, are you crazy? There is nothing there!” 

“Can you not see that?” he stretches his hand out to make a point and Miguel scowls.

“I can see absolutely bullshit!” you raise your voice.

The bell interrupts whatever he was going to say and take a deep breath. 

“I’m assuming that’s Dana?” you raise and eyebrow and he nods, “I’ll get it.”

“No! Don’t leave me with that fucking thing!” he points to where Miguel sits and then at you. You groan.

“Then you go and open the door!” 

“FIne!” he storms out, wobbling just a little. You hear the door open and your stomach drops when you head Dana’s voice.

“Hey.” Miguel says and you look down, “You’re going to be okay.”

You nod, “I’m going to be fine.”

He gestures to the door and you steel yourself before stepping out, a smile making its way onto your face as you spread your arms and greet Dana who replies with her high pitched voice. Even your husband seems to be in a better mood and you can’t help but remember the hologram.

“I love you” he kissed her neck softly and she giggled.

“Hey!” Dana says your name, “You okay?” 

“Youre going to be okay.”

You snap out of you daze, “Yeah, sorry. Long day.” you smile again and she pouts almost condescendingly.

“Awwww, I’m sure you’ve had a tiring day. Writing is such a hard profession.” she says airily.

You grit your teeth, “Tea?”

“Yeah honey, I think we’d like that.” Miguel smiles.

As you walk to the kitchen, and get out the ingredients, Miguel recounts the events of the day to Miguel and she scrunches her nose and laughs. She, too, says it’s just stress. Only this time, he listens. You swallow hard and go back to boiling the tea.

The apartment is built in an industrial style, and very much an open plan. The design is such that Miguel can see you from the bedroom. He can see your hands flying to open and close cabinets and crushing cardamom and washing tea cups. Living a life so different from the one you live with him.

The teacups clink as you place the tray on the coffee table. They take the cups and sip the tea with relish, like they always do. Miguel sighs contently and Dana groans with satisfaction.

“Have fun.” you grin, “I gotta shower. I’ll see you in a bit.” you whip around to speed walk awkwardly to the bedroom. Cursing at yourself inwardly because really? That’s the best excuse you could find?

Paces away from the bedroom, your eyes meet Miguel’s. The variant of your husband. This variant who had patched you up, and got you food and held you and was currently waiting for you and wasting his time on your petty revenge.

You breathe from your mouth so they can’t hear the sniffles you’re trying to hide as you shut the door.

```````````````````````````````

The door shuts with a click as you step in and in five seconds, Miguel curses his stupid enhanced hearing and winces. You give him a sad smile and he moves to wrap his arms around you. Your hands go around his neck and you look up at him. After a few moments, his head dips, and he’s so close. So close that the both of you are breathing the same air. Noses nuzzling each other, cheeks rubbing against the other and lips leaving their light feather touch on the other. 

He can hear the small sniffle you try to hide and he does the only thing he can think of to make you think of anything else. His head hides in the crook of your neck and he breathes in your scent. He relishes the small sounds that leave you. He lets them envelop his senses, so he doesn’t have to hear whatever is going on in the next room. His hands travel the expanse of your back, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt.  It’s a messed up dance you’re both in. He knows that. But, god, you’re so soft and-

Oh.

He breathes out a moan. Your lips are on his neck, gently mouthing at flesh. Your eyelashes leave whispers of kisses in their wake that make him lurch forward and pick you up. Your legs wrap around his waist like it’s an instinct.

The windows bathe you in the setting sunlight. And you look ethereal.

But. You’re not her. You’re not his love. Her smile was different, her hair shorter. Her eyes are softer. His head wracks with guilt but then he looks at you again. You’re doing the same. 

He can hear the laughter from outside, but it’s like time stands till as the both of you look at each other. Searching for what is missing. Using the other for their own comfort.

Like a reverent follower, he gazes at you. Like you’re his saint. He wants to say the words. To tell you to use him. So that the both of you can have some semblance of comfort in each other. Your head dips down and your lips brush his and his eyes shut. Succumbing to the feeling.

Two thuds are heard and you pull back, “That was fast.”

“Wait, you used the drug?” his eyes widen and you smile.

“Well, what’s left now but to take them to HQ?” you chuckle.

The hall is silent. There is no laughter.

He smiles.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o' hara #miguel o'hara angst #atsv

[cumikering]

Toxic Phillip Graves x reader

3.4k | angst, suggestive The commander with plenty of years ahead of you never saw you like you saw him, not even close

Next to the large window of the coffee shop, you sat with your book, sipping your latte that tasted closer to milk. Your cousin wasn’t a coffee drinker evidently.

“’Scuse me, miss. Would you mind if I sit here?”

You looked up at the owner of the smooth, southern voice. The man wore an easy smile – too easy, like he knew he looked good. Your eyes wandered past him, to the many empty tables before meeting his blue ones again.

“Sorry, I’m Phillip. I couldn’t help noticing your read.” He held out his copy of the exact same book. This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper.

You gave him a polite smile. “Go ahead.”

“Not my usual read, but it resonates with me.” He sat and placed his cup of tea on the table before cracking his book open where his steel bookmark lay. “He shouldn’t have led her on,” he commented.

“But her story wouldn’t have started otherwise.”

He smiled. “That’s true.”

Phillip ordered you another drink as you discussed your common interest in literature. Before you could finish the tea, the alarm on his phone went off.

“It was such a pleasure meeting you, miss, but I’ve got a plane to catch.” He placed his bookmark back in his copy.

It was then that you noticed the scar across his right cheek. Whatever caused it seemed like it had a full intention of ripping him off the Earth – like a personal vendetta, but divine intervention let it bolt past, catching the cuff of his ear instead.

“Would it be alright to call you sometime? Maybe we can meet again when I find myself in town.”

You put your number in his phone, not expecting anything to come out of it. Not from a chance meeting with a charming man more than a few years older than you.

But days later, Phillip asked if you’d finished the book. You spoke on the phone for half an hour, listening to his analysis of the characters. He was sharp, brilliant, eloquent. It showed that he was well-read and took pride in it.

He was initially vague about his job, saying he travelled a lot. You didn’t think it mattered at all what he did. He was an online friend who was into the same things as you were. A month later when he told you he was the CEO of a private military company, you weren’t surprised at all. It was plain in the way he carried himself, his poise and decisiveness. The way he filled a room to the brim even when he didn’t try to.

Over the months, he mailed you books to read and discuss once a week. Then twice, and thrice and the calls grew more frequent, longer, later. Quieter, deeper.

He became more than a name on your screen, more than a voice at the other end of the line at nightfall. Your conversations bled into the daylight. You felt less like a secret, more like a part of his life. Like an affirmation that, maybe, you were not the only one in the liminal space.

Thinking of you, sweetheart.

Always love hearing from my woman during the day.

Your man is having some good lunch. Wish you were here to share it with.

You make me feel like I may be close to some, but never close enough.

I’ll show you how much you mean to me when we meet again.

“You promise?” you asked one day.

“I make guarantees,” he affirmed without missing a beat. “I’ll have the last week of this month off.  Why don’t you fly here? I’ll take care of your flights and hotel.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve never done this before… Flown to meet anyone.”

“No pressure, darlin’. You mean a lot to me, you know that? Don’t want you doing anything you don’t want to.”

You booked your flights and hotel. You weren’t going to be a freeloader even that you knew it would have meant nothing to him judging by the suit he showed up at the airport in. You wanted to cry when you saw him and his boyish smile, carrying a large bouquet of roses and a sign of your name. You ran into his open arms.

“What are you doing dressed up like that?” you asked with a chuckle when you pulled away.

He kissed the top of your head. “Taking my darlin’ out on a dinner date.”

He helped with your suitcase to his grey SUV and waited for you to get ready in your room before taking you to a skyscraping French restaurant. Sat next to the floor-to-ceiling window, you couldn’t take your eyes off the view, the shadows of the city dainty against the gold seeping into deep purple.

“Gorgeous, huh?” He placed his hand on yours, making your turn to him. “I knew you’d like it. We can come back whenever you want.”

“I love it, Phil.” You beamed. “Thank you so much.”

“Anything for my darlin’.” He took your hand to his lips before raising his champagne flute. “To us.”

You clinked yours against his.

At your door, he asked if he could kiss you. You nodded, not meeting his blue eyes as you bit down a smile. He called you when he was in bed, and when you both refused to hang up, you wondered what kept you from staying at his instead.

Phillip spent the next two days taking you around the city and walking you to your room at the end of the night with a kiss, which lasted longer each time.

Darling, I need to take care of something on base. Would it be fine if you’re on your own for the day? His text read the next morning.

Instead of brunch with him, you wondered around the city on your own, reveling in the tall buildings and how friendly the people were. With a sweet Southern drawl, the older women called you honey, darling and everything else Phillip had called you. It made you miss him more.

As you enjoyed your dinner, your phone buzzed with his call. It didn’t take him long to pull up at the restaurant and give you a peck in front of his SUV. You’d seen photos of him in his full gear, but seeing him in his combat uniform in real life made your cheeks heat up as you held onto his biceps. With vivid eyes and a smirk like that, he was dangerously handsome.

His touch seared when he pushed you against the wall of his entryway, fingers grasping your jaw, as he licked and nipped.

“You kiss better than last night,” he mumbled against you.

You paused at the comment, but he didn’t relent. He hoisted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands roamed. He carried you to his kitchen, setting you on the counter, icy against the backs of your thighs.

His mouth trailed down the side of your neck, sucking harder at the base than you’re used to, but it hurt so good. You shuddered as a small gasp escaped you. He pulled away with a satisfied smile before setting you down on your feet, turning to open his French door fridge.

You took in his kitchen, All-black, with spotless marble countertops and seamless cabinets.

“What would you like, darlin’?”

“J- Just water, please.”

You were breathless with your cheeks warm when he led you to his living room which looked equally as lavish with the large TV in front of his plush leather couch. When he pulled you onto his lap, you let out a small squeak, making him chuckle.

“You’re always so adorable.” He kissed your cheek.

He put on some football on as he held you close, his hot, wide palm on your mid-thigh, exposed from him pushing your dress up. Every so often, he’d give it a squeeze as he sipped his beer, making your breath hitch.

“Darlin’, it’s getting late. Let’s get you back.” He patted your thigh. “Unless you want to stay? You can pick any room you want.”

He gave you a quick tour of his place, and you picked the room next to his. He gave you toiletries and his clothes for the night, and told you to come to his room when you were ready for bed. You opened his door to him on his bed in sweats, a book on his lap. He motioned for you to sit next to him, and you did, leaning onto his bare chest. You read with him, his arm around you, thumb rubbing your arm occasionally.

“Phil?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I just- Well-“ Confidence eluded you as fast as it graced and your heart raced. “Nevermind.”

He laid his book down and turned towards you. “What is it? You know you can tell me anything.”

You felt small having to ask, embarrassed that it was even something that bothered you. But when you looked into his eyes, welcoming with that warm smile, you thought maybe it was alright. It was Phillip after all.

“I wanted to know… What are we?”

He kissed your forehead. “Whatever you want us to be. I’d love to be your man if you let me.”

You smiled, relieved as you nodded.

“Anything for my woman.”

Phillip wasn’t in his room when you woke in his bed the following morning. You figured he was in his office, and he was, with the door open.

He looked up from his computer with a smile. He’d put a t-shirt on, his light brown hair tousled now. You noted he didn’t have his usual cup of coffee with him.

“Good morning, darlin’. Sorry I didn’t mean to leave the bed so early, but I’ve got reports to send.”

“That’s okay.”

“I hope you slept well. Feel free to use the kitchen. I’ll join you when I’m done in a bit.”

You went to his kitchen, the counters lustrous in the morning light. Next to the fridge, something glinted. It was a bottle cap of his favourite beer from the night before, a foreign brand you’d never seen. You put the cap into your sweats pocket - a keepsake of your first visit to his. You made coffee for the both of you, and when you were scouring the cabinets for some sugar-

“Sorry, sweetheart, who are you?”

You gasped, turning to the kitchen entrance where the voice came from. It was a middle-aged woman, carrying grocery bags. She blinked, her smile polite but confused.

“Uhh, Phil?” You looked straight at her with wide eyes, at a loss for words.

“What is it, darlin’?” he replied from a distance.

“Phillip Graves?” the woman called out, voice thundering.

In a second, he rounded the corner.

“Mum. Hey, I wasn’t expecting you.” He took the bags from her hands, placing them on the counter before giving her a hug. “This, uh- this is a friend.” He gestured to you.

“Hi, Mrs. Graves.”

“Good morning, sugar.” She nodded at you, her eyes warmer as she unpacked the bags. “I stopped by to drop off some fruits. I was at the farmer’s market.” Her eyes flicked to you, a playful smile on her lips. “He never has anything in his house other than beer, does he?”

You let out a small laugh, and he had an amused smile as he shook his head.

“I’m still in the middle of something. I’ll finish up real quick.” He left again.

“He’s married to his job,” she commented as she opened the fridge, stocking it with the colourful produce she brought.

“Um, do you know where the sugar is by any chance?”

She turned to you and glanced at the two mugs on the counter. “If he hasn’t had his coffee yet by now, that’s probably because he’s out of sugar.” She smiled. “And you know how much of a sweet-tooth he is.”

You did.

She continued lining the fridge with apples. “He really does run on coffee. He never learnt to cook, that boy. Lucky he’s got you taking care of him.”

Your heart swelled. Did he tell her about you already?

“All done now,” she said, closing the fridge. “Tell him I say bye, will you?”

“Okay.”

She gave you a squeeze and pinched your cheek. “I’ll see you again soon, sugar.”

You beamed as you walked her to the door. She didn’t hate you, and it made you irrationally happy.

“Phil?” You stood at the door to his office. “Your mom just left, told me to tell you bye.”

He beckoned you to come in, and he pulled you to sit on his lap, his hand squeezing your thigh.

“You know why I said you’re a friend, don’t you? I promise I’ll tell her soon.” He gave you an easy smile. “It’s like introducing vegetables to a kid. You gotta do it in small doses.”

“That’s okay, I understand.“ It didn’t bother you seeing how warm she was towards you. Still, you held on to his words.

“Okay, I’m almost done now. I’ll drive you to your hotel to get ready and we’ll go out for lunch.”

As well as the day went, you went ahead of yourself, like you often did when things felt too good. It dawned on you this was a little dream, a fleeting paradise in your ordinary life. Like a ticking bomb, it was going to detonate into a million pieces, and you’ll wake up with nothing but little mice, a pumpkin, a tattered dress and the sweetest memory.

The demon lingered in the backroom of your mind, pounding relentlessly at the door, begging to be set free. You felt like you’d gone too deep, like you shouldn’t even have started with all this.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm, darlin’?” Phillip asked when you entered his house, tossing his keys into the entryway bowl.

You couldn’t even fake a smile.

“Did I do something to upset you?” He rubbed your arms and led you to the couch.

He turned your body to him, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t drown the riot in your head.

“Please. If it’s my fault, let me fix it.”

“How is this going to work?” Your eyes flicked to his, continuing in a smaller voice. “We don’t live close at all.”

“Got me worried there,” he exhaled, pulling you to his chest. “You can move here, of course.”

“It’s not that easy, is it?”

“I know it’s not. If I’m honest, I don’t have an answer for that yet.” He sighed as he caressed your hair. Silence lingered before he continued, “You know what my drill sergeant used to say? You can’t fly when you keep worrying about falling out of the sky.”

“You told me.” A smile flickered on your lips.

“We’re just a two-hour flight away from each other. As long as you still want this, don’t think too much of what’s going to come. It will work itself out.” He tilted your face to him by the chin. “We’ll work it all out.”

Perhaps he was right. You just needed to focus on what’s right in front of you. When you asked if you could extend your stay for a few more days, he gave you a peck on the lips.

He held you wordlessly for a long time until he got a call for an emergency meeting. He told you not to wait up if he wasn’t done in an hour. You hadn’t planned on staying the night, but you still had your toiletries from the other day. You got ready for bed and rescheduled your return flight, extending the timer on the proverbial bomb, even just for two more days. You wanted to float in this dream a little longer.

It was past 2 in the morning when your door creaked open. You turned, the dim light from the hallway bleeding into the dark.

“Why are you still up?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

“I should ask you the same thing.”

He turned the bedside lamp on and sat on the bed, holding your hand.

“I’ve been thinking. You’re really special to me, darlin’. I want to work this out. I promise we’ll find a way, okay?”

You choked out a sob. His words like balm to your burning chest. You sat up and wrapped your arms around him.

“You’re so emotional. It’s adorable.” He let out a small laugh as he stroked your back. “I love you.”

When your tears stopped flowing, he laid you down, caging you between his forearms as he kissed you. Your arm wrapped around his neck, a hand cupping his lightly stubbled jaw. You fell into the kiss, into the sensation of his perfect lips. His hand wandered, pinching, squeezing, rubbing, his lips unrelenting, ever intensifying.

You squirmed under him. “Phil, that’s- you’re being a bit rough.”

He pulled away. “My ex liked it this way.”

You appreciated his passion, but the comment didn’t sit right. He stilled for a second before lying beside you in silence. You didn’t know how long you lay there, but in the dark, your eyes blinked open at the click of the door.

Your heart drained, hollow, hanging by a thread like it was going to float away out of your gaping chest any second. What you thought was going to be a comforting night turned unkind, instead leaving you feeling less than. You let out an uneven breath, pulling the comforter closer around you, willing it to drown the ache.

The next morning, Phillip was quiet, not even meeting your eyes as he told you to get ready. It was jarring, when for days it was as if he couldn’t keep his hands off you, but that day felt like he didn’t even want you anywhere near him.

Perhaps he had a lot in mind, maybe something about his meeting the night before – you knew it happened sometimes, but this time, the stillness made you nervous. Rejected, unwanted, out of place. Something was brutally wrong and it hung heavy in the air, it made you hard to breathe.

He finally broke the silence when he pulled up at the hotel lobby. “This isn’t working out.”

You turned to him, not believing your ears. “What?”

“This is a mistake,” he declared.

“But… Last night, we just- You said you loved me.“

“Why are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s not.”

The harsh tone sent chills down your spine. He’d never used that voice on you.

“I thought you liked sex, sweetheart. Why’d you wear those cute outfits otherwise?” His smirk turned to a frown. “Also, you laugh too loud. It’s off putting.”

You froze in your seat, like you wanted to scream but your voice a prisoner in your throat. Your stomach churned, bitter, singeing.

“You didn’t think this was real, did you? Don’t worry, it’s not like I don’t want to see you again. We’ll get coffee when I visit, okay?”

Your lips quivered as you blinked your tears away, but you were not going to let yourself cry.

“Oh, come on! Don’t start crying now. You’re making me look like the bad guy.” He threw his hands up in exasperation.

Was he not? When he told you all those things, some of the kindest words anyone had ever said to you. When the gold he gave you was brass at heart.

“Fuck you, Graves.” You got out of the car, slamming the door shut. Your tears stained your cheeks as you walked away.

It was the last time you saw or heard from him until two months later.

Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m attached now. We’re visiting next month. Want to meet up?

You regretted not blocking his number. You wiped away the tear that slipped.

Three years later, the universe sprinkled chaos and stirred its pot. You met another Phillip. Your cousin asked if it was the Graves variety. You said no, with a smile brighter than you ever remembered smiling.

This one held your hand and brought you home to meet his mum. This one didn’t bring up his exes when you didn’t ask. This one laughed harder when you cackled.

This one didn’t have to lie about his intentions, because a few years later, his promise of forever came without you even having to ask.

Thanks @shadofireshinobi for making me write this <3

@tiredmetalenthusiast @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

#call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x you #cod x you #call of duty angst #cod angst #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii #mw2 #cod modern warfare #phillip graves #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #graves x reader #graves x you #phillip graves angst #yoh do i look like yo ex

[arysbruv]

Runaway

You were a relatively newer student. You normally kept to yourself but you always dreamt of being friends with the main trio, especially with the infamous Suguru Geto. Yet, he always seemed to hate you, even when you openly showed you felt the opposite.

pairings: suguru geto x reader

warnings and whatnots : I was gonna end it here but i wanted some conflict hehe. So probably part 6 will be the end. Pride and prejudice mentions. Angst. I apologise in advance. Sorry for short chapter and late release have been busy 😔😔🙏🙏. Not proofread.

chapter 1 : are we still friends? chapter 2 : can we be friends? chapter 3 : sorry, not sorry chapter 4 : green looks good on you. chapter 5: [currently reading] chapter 6: burn.

You scanned the books on the shelf, you index finger nudging the edges.

The notifications on your phone going crazy, irritating you. You click your tongue as you look at the messages in the groupchat.

Gojo Hate Group ⁉️⁉️

Satoru 🧑🏻‍🦳: Me and shoko going out coz books r for nerds and ITS BORING

Shoko 🚬: Have fun lovebirds

Suguru 💔: wtf? Where are you both going?

Satoru 🧑🏻‍🦳: NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS SHOKO HURRY UP BEFORE HE CATCHES US

Satoru 🧑🏻‍🦳: OMG I CAN SEE SUGURU HE LOOKS PISSED

Satoru 🧑🏻‍🦳: SHOKO

Suguru 💔: Where the hell are you.

Shoko🚬: LMAO

You click your tongue, peering out the store window to see Satoru and Shoko leave the store in a hurry. Shoko gives you a sly smile, a small thumbs up while mouthing a small ‘you can do it.’

Note to self: kill Satoru and Shoko when you go back.

“They abandoned us.” A sudden voice says from behind you. You turn quickly, almost losing your balance on the smooth wooden floor.

A hand grabs your waist, stabilising you ensuring that you didn’t fall and make a mess on the floor.

Your eyes widen as you look at Suguru who was standing in front of you. He stared back, his eyebrows slightly lifted up in shock. Why was he shock? Your face heats up as his hand retracts.

A pang of sadness hits you as you felt his hand leave you, yet the way his fingers grazed your skin drove you mad. What was he doing?

“Yeah… they did.” You turn away from him, swallowing your saliva as you feel him come closer to you. This was insane. What was he doing? Didn’t he hate you? Was Shoko right?

“What are you buying?” He asks, looking at the book in your hand. He scoffs as he looks at it.

You eye him down hearing his scoff. “I’ll let you know Pride and Prejudice is an amazing book.”

“I know, I’ve read it.”

You look at him curiously as his eyes move from the book to you.

“You remind me of Elizabeth. Hot-headed and always thinks you’re right. Oh and your quips, you think your so smart huh?” Suguru says, hands in his pockets as he stares you down. What was he saying? Satoru told him to be nice and confess his ever so obvious ‘feelings’ for you but he didn’t understand. What feelings were Satoru talking about? The feeling of his stomach turning every time he saw you? How he craved to be near you, to see what you were doing. To see you walk around in your own world?

“Oh? You remind me of Darcy, prideful, tact and socially inept.” You say, finger pressing on his chest.

He laughs.

“You wish I was the Darcy to your Elizabeth.” I wish it too.

You huff, crossing your arms. It drove him crazy how you looked. Your clothes matching his. He stares at you, observing the way your hair parted and how your lips were sewed tightly into a frown. It was cute.

To the untrained eye, you would’ve looked like a couple in a small argument. In your eyes, you wished he was your boyfriend and having a small argument. Yet, you knew it was probably never happening.

“Whatever…” You blow him off, trudging off to the counter to pay for your book, Suguru following closely behind you.

“Just this please.” You say to the lady at the counter, old in age. She smiles at you, her wrinkles becoming more prominent. She takes the book, smiling as she looks at you and Suguru who stands behind you, glued to his phone.

“You and your boyfriend are cute, I saw you both squabbling over there and I couldn’t help but remember my late husband. We were just like you, always arguing.”

The woman didn’t take her eyes off the book as she talks, your face turns red as you bit your lip, unsure of what to say. You turn back to see Suguru, a small smile etched on his face as he looks at the old woman. His eyes glance at you. His smile drops before he clears his throat.

“Oh, we’re… we’re not a thing, we’re just…friends.”

Suguru feigns a smile as he talks to the woman. She smiles back.

Friends. Friends. Friends. The word replays in his mind. He wanted to be more than that. He wanted to be more than friends. Why? What was so intriguing about you? You were just some random person! Was he mad? Was he delirious? Had he not felt anyone’s touch for so long he was willing to try it with you? No, if that was true he would’ve gone for Satoru or Shoko. You appealed to him. What was it with you? Did you release a pheromone that attracted him to you? What was he thinking?

“Thank you ma’am.” You smile politely at the woman. She smiles back, sympathy and hope in her eyes. Did she notice your feelings? Seems like everyone noticed except Suguru himself. No, he did notice. He just didn’t want it. That was worse. “Suguru let’s go hunt those idiots down.” You say, punching his shoulder as you walk to the entrance.

You found them in a nearby cafe, by nearby, it was around a 2.5 kilometre walk. Suguru and you talked, smiling. It was the first time you did so in a while. The walk that lasted for roughly 20-30 minutes evolved from tension filled to dumb jokes and quips. Suguru watches as you laugh. He missed this you.

As you saw them through the cafe window, you wave out to them. Shoko smiles at you as she urges you and him to come inside. You nod, going to join them. Yet, a hand stops you before you could make a move.

What was he doing?

“y/n. Can we talk?” Suguru says, his voice low as he pulls you to the side, away from your friends’ sight.

“What’s up?” You scratch your skin, eyes bouncing off the walls before finally landing on his’. His’ that were already staring into yours. You gulp.

“I like you.”

huh?

“I like you and it’s stupid and annoying but you’re stuck in my head and i thought it was hate because of how annoying you are and that maybe you’re just an annoying monkey but when Satoru touched you I get tingly and I hate that and…” He rambles on, stopping to look at your face. “Oh my god you’re such an idiot but I goddamn like you?”

You stare at his wide eye, his hand still wrapped around your wrist. He stares back, awaiting an answer. Without a thought, you pull back your hand from his wrist.

“I’m sorry Suguru…”

You ran, ran off to wherever it was as long as he couldn’t find you. Why were you running? You liked him back? Yet, your feet carried you away. Your feelings were about to burst and you didn’t know what to do about it.

‘Run’. Your mind told you.

‘I’ll run.’ Your legs whispered back.

It was like you were just a mere bystander to your body’s conversation. You didn’t know what to do.

So you ran, leaving a broken man behind.

#jujutsu geto #geto x reader #suguru geto #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri #ieri shoko #geto angst #suguru geto angst #geto x you #suguru x reader

[apocalypseornaw]

Love You Better (Pt 2/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

After a successful Djinn hunt Dean starts to pull away from you but you have no idea why and he won't tell you either

Sam had ended up taking the backseat of the impala so you were curled up in the passenger seat, Dean's jacket over you like a blanket as you pretended to sleep so he would continue singing lightly along with the radio. When Dean wasn't being goofy he had an amazing singing voice even if he rarely showed it.

You'd probably been on the road a few hours when you felt the car slow and Dean reached over to tap your leg "Y/N you wanna quit pretending to sleep and walk in the gas station with me?" You opened one eye and grinned "I wasn't pretending" he shook his head but laughed "Next time? Don't smile when I sing along with your favorite songs" you pushed his jacket off then shrugged "Sing more often for me and I wouldn't have to pretend" he rolled his eyes then raised his voice slightly to say "Sammy! Want anything?"

Sam stirred from his sleep and rubbed his eyes "Bottle of water?" You turned to look back at him and laughed, his hair was a little wild "My brush is in the top of my go bag Sam. Feel free to use it"

-----------

Dean watched you as you looked over the water bottles, talking to yourself about the different prices versus the taste of the water. How the hell could you doing something so damn mundane make his heart flip?

He was so damn in love with you but hadn't said those words yet. He hoped you knew, hoped his actions spoke loud enough but knew he needed to tell you he just didn't know how. You stopped mid rant and glanced over at him, a small smile working its way onto your face "Like what ya see Winchester?"

He let his eyes flick across your body appreciatively before smiling himself "Very much sweetheart" you laughed and motioned to the water on the top shelf "Good, so that means you won't pick on me cause I can't reach the top shelf" he laughed and grabbed two of the bottles you pointed to "There ya go beautiful" you smiled "Thank you"

-----------

Once the three of you got back on the road you felt a small knot in your stomach grow. Dean and Jax had always gotten along before so you shouldn't have nothing to worry about but if the roles were reversed and Lisa was a hunter and you were helping her? It'd be awkward as hell.

You shook the nerves off when Sam drew you into talking about a book you'd both read. It would be fine, right?

Normally when the three of you would be meeting another hunter it would be at some cheap motel but instead you were meeting Jax at his garage.

He'd opened the garage a couple years back in Austin and had a small place nearby. He had managed to find a balance not a lot of hunters had, an actual means of income and a normal house while still hunting.

------------

Dean cut his eyes at you as he pulled into the parking lot of the garage. You'd dozed off a few miles back and him nor Sam had wanted to wake you up but now they didn't have a choice. He glanced back at Sam who shrugged so he leaned over and gently shook your arm "Wake up sleeping beauty we're here"

You slowly opened your eyes at smiled at him "How long was I asleep?" He shrugged "An hour or so" you nodded and ran a hand over your hair to smoothe it down. "Ok then. Let's see what Jax has and then get to work"

He watched as you climbed out the impala and stretched. He wasn't jealous, not at all.

----------

Sam walked in first then Dean held the door open for you and walked in behind you. You glanced around at the office area you were in. There was a small desk that had a desktop computer sitting on it and a few filing cabinets. It was a simple area but decorated just enough to make it have personality. It fit Jax well.

You felt Dean's arm slip around your waist about the time you heard Jax's voice. He walked around the corner with his phone to his ear and smiled when he saw the three of you. He was about Dean's height, dark hair that he'd always kept cut short and blue eyes. From the looks of it he hadn't shaved in a few days because the stubble along his jaw was leaning closer to a beard.

He finished the phone call and nodded towards you "Thanks for coming" you smiled "Of course. So what's the case Barlowe?" He motioned towards the door "Let me flip the sign and close for the day then if you want yall can follow me to my place and i can catch ya up" "Sounds good" Dean spoke from behind you and Jax nodded "Give me five"

------------

Dean stood between you and Sam as the three of you looked over the files Jax had on the case at hand. There was about half a dozen missing in Brushy Creek, a town about twenty miles from Austin and Jax had narrowed down the possible locations to about three warehouses.

"Seems simple enough" You spoke glancing from Dean to Jax. Both of them nodded before saying damn near in unison "Yeah but when is hunting ever simple" you cut your eyes at Sam who raised an eyebrow before saying "Should we get the lamb's blood here or there?" Jax tapped a place on the map "Here, there's a Butcher halfway we can get it from"

The plan was that Sam would go with Jax to clear one warehouse, you'd go with Dean then if both proved to be a bust the four of you would check the last one together.

You reached your left hand out to touch Dean's side as the two of you checked the warehouse. So far it had been empty. A part of you had hoped the first two warehouses would be it, kill the damn thing then grab a motel room and rest then head home come morning.

So far Dean hadn't said anything about Jax. You weren't expecting much but a part of you was wondering why. If roles were reversed.. no you couldn't be distracted.

A noise creaked somewhere in the warehouse and you spun towards it only to see a possum run across the floor. You let out a laugh "A freakin possum"

Dean reached out and pulled you closer to him "I think we caught a bust, there's one office left. We'll check it then call Sam and Jax to see how their end is" you nodded, falling in step with him.

---------------

You and Dean had just got there to meet Sam and Jax at the last warehouse. Good news was having four competent hunters, bad news was the last warehouse was absolutely fucking huge. The damn thing had three floors.

You looked over at Dean before getting out of the car. He smiled "Kiss for luck?" You leaned over and when your lips met you damn near melted against him. He always had that damn ability to make you forget your worries. When you pulled back he smiled "Let's get two rooms instead of one" you shook your head with a laugh "Save people first, take me to bed later"

----------

Somehow the four of you had gotten separated. You were on the same floor with Sam while Dean was one floor up and Jax was on the highest floor. Sam cut his eyes at you "You good?" You nodded "Yeah every woman's dream is to be hunting monsters with her boyfriend and her ex" Sam laughed and started to say something but then you heard Jax holler "DEAN LOOK OUT"

You and Sam looked at each other then took off running. By the time you two made it up to the second floor you were met with Dean down with one Djinn touching his face and Jax soon to follow since the other Djinns hand was going towards his face "HEY UGLY!" You hollered and both Djinn looked at you "Fuck, Sam some help?"

------------

Sam ran to stab the Djinn over Jax so you ran towards Dean. The Djinn spun on you and you flipped your knife up "He's mine asshole" You threw the knife and caught him dead in the throat. When he went down you ran over and snatched it out then slammed it down into his heart.

Once he was dead you slid to Dean's side "Come on baby. Please wake up. WAKE UP!" Jax and Sam ran over and Jax handed you a vial "It's smelling salts. It'll bring him around"

You snapped the small vial and held it under Dean's nose. Once he inhaled his eyes flew open. "What the hell?" You let out a sigh of relief and let your head fall over onto his chest "You're ok. Thank God, you're ok" he touched your head gently "They dead?" Jax chuckled behind you "They're dead man"

Sam had gone with Jax to a local bar after the four of you made sure the vics had been taken to the hospital so that left only you and Dean at the motel. You'd been expecting him to want to finish what he started earlier but so far he'd damn near been avoiding touch.

He hadn't gotten in the shower with you and when he got out the shower himself he was awful quiet. You were sitting cross legged in the center of the bed watching him as he messed around in his duffle.

"Dean, are you ok?" You finally asked and he glanced up but his eyes still had that far away look "Yeah sweetheart. I'm just tired" you patted the bed next to you "Come on then"

---------

Dean wanted to talk to you, wanted to tell you the fucking world he'd been thrown into when that Djinn had poisoned him. All in all it was only about twenty minutes real world but with Djinn the timeline was always skewed. The way you looked at him as he climbed into bed next to you, he couldn't start that conversation. He loved you, he really did but fuck did he deserve you?

When you curled up next to him placing a gentle kiss on his chest he smiled despite himself. He wanted you, wanted a future with you but that damn dream world had confirmed what he'd already known. You made a mistake choosing him.

@marimarvelfan @suckitands33 @sushiumex @janineb86 @nix-rose @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @holdingontil-may @freewastelandstrawberry @jackles010378

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #love you better mini series

[lushafterglow]

Self Destruction is… well.

Chapter One -> ever get the feeling of being watched?

Paring: Mafia Boss Toji x Lawyer F!Reader

Summary: Every morning is the same, wake up, go to the local coffee shop right by your firm, go to your office, work, go home, repeat. Always the same, thought while your one to keep to yourself you just can’t but help the little kid with spiky hair. Only to find the father to too much longer after.

Tropes: Mafia romance, stalker romance, frenimes to lovers, single dad.

Masterlist

Warnings: 10 year age gap. (Reader is 20.) Stalking, cussing, descriptive violence.

Taglist: @queendessi24 @idkdudsworld

Series Masterlist.

You silently curse yourself when you walk into the coffee shop to see it packed. You looked down at the clock on your phone, seeing the clock tick from 7:08 to 7:09. You had time. You were supposed to clock into the office at 7:30, and it was right around the corner.

You claim your place in line and silently wait, scrolling through your email. You rolled your eyes and your friend and colleague, Rosie, email that was actually just secret gossip. A thing the two of you started to do since you were still interns. You two got scolded for being on your phones, so Rosie sent you an Email talking shit about your guy’s boss at the time. It soon became a regular thing.

A slight bump in your leg pulled your attention away from your phone and brought it to the little kid who just accidentally ran into you. Your brow rose curiously as you looked around for parents who seemed to have claim over him. You turned to the person behind you and subtly pointed to the kid – who had quite unusual spikey hair – and titled your head.

The person shook their head, answering your silent question. You sighed, you knew it wasn’t the person in front of you kid. “Do you know where your parent is?” The kid just stared at you for a moment before silently shaking his head, a quiet child indeed, granted he was probably scared.

“When did you last see them?” The boy was quiet again for a moment until his timid voice eventually spoke up. “I saw Daddy by the street.” You nodded and made your way out the line, cursing God for making you go a day without it, however you refused to let this kid be left alone.

“And your name? Can you tell me that?”

“Megumi.” His name means blessing. You smiled at the thought, his dad and mom must really love him. They were probably worried to death. “Do you know your last name?” The kid only nodded his head yes, making you raise your brow as if asking, ‘Well?’. “Fushiguro.” The name sounded familiar but you couldn’t place your finger on it, granted you processed probably 100 names a day.

You made your way onto the street and looked around for an adult who bared any resembalnce to Megumi. You told Megumi to look for his parent as well and you kept a hold of his hand tightly, not wanting to lose him too. After a few moments you heard a loud voice yell “Megumi! Through the crowd.

Megumi pointed to the man and told you, “That’s my daddy.” You nodded and, with your grip still tight, made your way through the sea of people and two the man. When you came to a stop the man in front of you couldn’t deny being his father. Besides the texture of his hair, he looked like a bloody older twin. Your grip on Megumi hand dropped, and his father rushed to pick him up.

“What did I tell you? You can’t go sneak off, you could have been killed!” That was a teeny bit dramatic, but granted there are some creeps in the world. You smiled to the family, “I found him in that coffee shop, no harm done to him.” His father for the first time looked to me and I gave him a little wave in return. He put Megumi onto the ground and after giving him a ‘stay’ look he turned back to me.

“I owe you thanks.” His voice was rich, deep, smooth. It was the kind of voice you would think of when reading a romance book and the male main character said something that mode you blush like crazy. “It’s no problem at all really, I’m just glad you two found each other.” I gave his little boy a tiny smile, as a way to not leave him out of conversation.

“Trust me, not as glad as I am that he found you.” You gave the two one last kind smile the hurried to bid him good day, it was almost time for work.

You walked up too the crosswalk and waited for the light to turn green so you can pass. You started at that red hand, waiting. You fingers drumming against your phone. The light flicked to green and you started to walk, but ou felt the hair’s on your neck stand and goosebumps form across your arms. You looked over your shoulder and you saw the boy and his dad.

They were seated in the coffee shop by the window. The dad said something to the waitress and he nodded her away. You were about to continue crossing the road but then he looked back. He looked over his shoulder giving you a grin that would surely light the flames in hell. Your breath hitched. He winked, taking a sip of his drink.

You shook off the encounter and turned back around, rushing across the street. You turn the corner and land your eyes on your firm. What a weird encounter. You opened the door and sighed out, here you were the one who controlled everything, and the thing about control is that it’s just a illusion. An illusion that some people can’t sell, and one some people live off of.

You didn’t tell Rosie about the strange interaction you had earlier that morning. You didn’t tell her because it wasn’t strange, a dad lost his kid, and you helped them out, but the why did you have this strange feeling in your gut?

You walked through the door of your lovely home, kicking off your heels by the door. You rolled your neck, sighing as you took off your coat and hanged it by the door. You walked through your house without a second thought heading straight for the kitchen.

You opened the glass door beside your pantry and pulled out a bottle of wine. Luxury of being a well off Law-firm owner. You grabbed a single glass cup and walked to the counter top. Red poured into the cup, not a drop landing elsewhere. You took a long sip, staring at the wall when you placed the cup back down. You started at the cup for a moment before getting up – cup in hand – and walked over to the sink. You placed the cup above it, and then titled it, watching the rich red wine pour down the drain.

You didn’t bother to wash the cup, you left it in the sink and made your way up the stairs. You walked into your room and took a seat on your bed. You loved being surrounded by trees. Being an hour away from the city. You called ubers to bring you into the busying city when needed.

You could live in the city if you wished it, and the only way you would is if you had a penthouse or something, away from neighbors. You could afford it, you were successful, but money can’t cure your fear of heights.

You looked around before standing up again, you started to unbutton your blouse, shrugging off the fabric. You then next worked on your dress pants, button, unzip, kick off. You opened your dresser and started to find one of your comfy pajama’s. You closed the door and then you felt it.

Your hair stood, goosebumpes spread all over you, and that feeling in your stomach came back. You felt like you were being watched. You hurried the clothes on the walked to your balcony, the door’s were locked but you still had the curtains open. You always did, and you’ve never felt off.

You gripped the curtain and gave the trees surrounding you one last glace over but ultimately found nothing. If there was someone out there then the darkness was their friend tonight. You closed the curtains quickly and hurried around the house, locking all doors and windows.

When you reentered your room you shook your head, ‘It’s just the wine, get a grip.’. You turned off your bed room light trying to find sleep, sleep that didn’t come.

First chapter done!!! Chapter Two is in the works right now and I can’t wait to get it out to ya’ll I hope you enjoyed this! I wrote this in google docs so if the writing format is weird then that’s why :) Also ik this seems short but it’s because that why I’ll get chapters out faster. Plus this is only the first chapter.

#jjk masterlist #jjk #jjk toji #dilf toji #toji masterlist #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji x reader

[kemistre]

εïз┊𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 — feat. bokuto koutarou, suna rintarou, oikawa tooru, miya osamu, kuroo tetsurou

synopsis. how haikyuu boys comfort you when you've had a bad day

— content warnings. none! just comfy stuff <3 — word count. 670

εïз┊author's note. here's this inspired by the awful birthday i had today!!!

εïз┊b. koutarou

his excited grin turned into a concerned frown as you walked through the door with teary eyes. he mumbled your name, his furrowed brows and small voice crack showed how much it hurt him to see you this way. with daunting steps, he hugged you tight, pulling you into his chest while whispering little words of comfort into your ear. his callous hands rubbing circles into your back made you sink into him, huggin him back even tighter as he spoke. "hug me as tight as you need baby." he calmed you down, little by little until you told him what happened for you to be so, so upset.

εïз┊s. rintatou

he heard the front door shut forcefully as he laid on the couch, his phone in his hands. he paused, hearing your quiet footsteps coming towards him as he glanced up from his phone to see you with watery eyes and a scowl on your lips. he set his phone on his chest, slowly raising himself up so he leaned his back on the arm of the couch. he stretched out his arms, motioning for you to come over and without a second thought, you nuzzled into his chest and hugged him close. he smoothed back your hair as you sobbed into him, placing a delicate kiss on your head as his other hand snaked around your lower back. "just let it all out, don't hold anything back, okay baby?"

εïз┊o. tooru

it wasn't soon after you'd gotten home that he realized you weren't yourself. it didn't take him long at all to figure those kinds of things out. so, he approached you in the kitchen where you'd set down your things, opening his arms with those kind, understanding eyes, his lips curling into a sad smile. you let yourself fall into him, the tears finally streaming down your cheeks from the day of holding them in. you held his jacket for support as he swayed, humming a little tune as to calm your racing thoughts. "you're doing so amazing, angel, i'm so proud of you for getting through the day."

εïз┊m. osamu

he never thought of leaving your side as you sat on the couch, you head in your hands. he rubbed circles into your back, hoping to calm you down without knowing what caused your breakdown. you sobbed into your hands, fear of speaking and making yourself cry more. you felt him get up from the couch, his hand smoothing back your hair as he placed a kiss on your forehead. "ya don't have ta say anythin' darlin', but let me try ta cheer ya up, yeah?" he took your hands from your face, pulling you up from the couch slowly as his worried frown soon turned into a kind smile. he took your hand in his, leading you to the kitchen where he turned on some soft and relaxing music, showing you how he always made your favorite meal.

εïз┊k. tetsurou

he stared at your quivering lips, your teeth biting your bottom lip as you walked into your shared bedroom. he sat in bed, reading a book on chemistry as he'd done every night before bed for months. he sighed, giving you a sad smile before getting up from where he sat, holding your cheeks in his hands. his hands slid down to your own, slowly leading you to the bed where he pulled up the covers, letting you plop onto the bed as you stared up at him with doey eyes. before you knew it, he had helped you into your pajamas and gotten you ready for bed and getting back to his spot. he pulled the blankets over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you and lightly resting his cheek on your head, every so often placing a simple kiss upon your head. he hugged you tighter the more you cried, and he was willing to wait as long as you needed to be able to talk to him. "i'm here for you every step of the way, my love."

taglist :: there's none at the moment but just send me a message to my inbox if you wanna be tagged :3

#[εïз] — fluffy time #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu comfort #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo comfort #miya osamu #osamu x reader #miya osamu comfort #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou #bokuto comfort #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa comfort #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna comfort

[ghostofaboy]

Hold Please...

Summary: Dave decides to arrange a little get-together for him, Javier and Marcus. (Based on this post.)

Pairing: Dave York/Javier Peña/Marcus Pike Rating: Explicit | Word Count: 2444 Part 1 of 2

Warnings: Anal fingering, oral sex, anal sex, facial, orgasm denial

Note: This has not been beta read so I apologize for any mistakes. This is a fic with gay/bi characters. Please make sure you’ve read the warnings. Dividers: @saradika-graphics

The phone’s shrill ring echoed through the empty office, startling Javi out of his dazed. Glancing at his watch, his heart sank to see it was already lunchtime. Well, that explained why the office was empty with the exception of himself and why his stomach was growling. He must have gotten lost in these reports, or rather sank into a strange waking slumber due to how fucking dull they were. As another shrill tone rang out through the office, Javi reached out and grabbed the receiver. 

“Peña.”

“Peña, it’s York. You got a minute?” A familiar voice reached Javi’s ears, and in a moment he was transported back ten years ago to the first time he’d met Dave as a brash young army Private. 

“Dave, it’s been a while.” Javi cupped the receiver to his ear as he hunted around his desk for his keys, cell phone and cigarettes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Funny you should word it that way.” Dave chuckled down the phone. “Are you free this Saturday?”

“What’s this about, Dave?” Javi frowned, pausing his hands from shoving his belongings into his pockets. “I haven’t heard from you in almost a year, not since… well… a text the morning after would have been nice.”

Another chuckled came from Dave before a short pause. “It’s come to my attention that we now have the same… playmate.”

“Oh.” Javi’s eyebrows shot up as his memory snapped back to the month before, where he’d spent a weekend balls deep in a young FBI agent. “I didn’t know you and he-”

“Oh, it’s not exclusive Peña, don’t worry. I’m not mad. Far from it.” Dave’s voice sounded as smooth and soothing as ever, and Javi cursed under his breath as he felt his cock responding as it always did around Dave York. On the other end of the phone, Dave continued. “He’s very good, isn’t he? What would you say to a little get-together this weekend? Just the three of us for some good old-fashioned fun.”

“You call me on my office phone to ask this?” Javi shook his head, laughing. “You asshole. Fine. Let me know the details, when you’ve talked to him. Text me. Ok, I’m gonna go get some lunch.”

“Talk to you soon, Agent Peña.” Dave gave once last night before the line went dead.

Sitting on his couch after a long day at the office, Marcus had jumped a little when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Putting down his book and without even looking at the caller-ID he’s swiped his thumb and brought it up to his ear.

“This is Pike.” 

“Hello Marcus.” A deep voice greeted his ears, and immediately Marcus’ cock twitched in interest.

“D-Dave. I… I haven’t heard from you in a while.” Marcus sat up straight, his heart pounding at the voice of his older lover.

“Yeah, I thought I’d leave you a while to make you miss me.” Dave teased. “But from what I’ve heard you’ve got yourself a new older man to fuck you into the mattress.”

Marcus’ swallowed hard. “You said that we… that we weren’t-”

“Oh baby, I’m just teasing you.” Dave cooed down the phone. “I know him, actually. Old lover of mine, in fact, although we haven’t fucked for a while. A long while.”

“Oh.” Marcus felt relief and a strange feeling of jealousy wash over him. “So you’re not mad?”

“Oh sweetheart no. No. Absolutely not.” Dave sounded genuine and Marcus’ cock gave another twitch, the tent in his pants growing. “In fact, I’m glad. I would have liked to introduce you and now I don’t have to. Are you free this weekend?”

“Erm, yes.” The question caught Marcus off guard. “Did you want to see me?”

“I do.” Dave purred in Marcus’ ear and Marcus found himself tugging his fly open to relieve the pressure on his straining cock. “And I’ve invited Peña so the three of us can have a catch-up.”

Stroking his cock, Marcus bit his lip at Dave’s words, just the thought of him and Javi fucking him almost enough to make him cum. “This weekend? Got it.”

Dave chuckled and Marcus ran a thumb over his leaking tip. “I’ll text you the details later, baby boy. Now why don’t you get comfortable and cum down the phone for me.”

The week had dragged along, and Javi had caught himself getting distracted with tented pants under his desk at several points through the week. On Thursday, Javi had arrived to work to find an envelope on his desk with his name in Dave’s handwriting on it. Inside was a hotel key card, the address and room number, along with a Polaroid of Marcus wear a pair of lacy mint green panties. The younger man’s face looked flushed as his cock strained against the thin material as he gazed into the camera with his lips parted. Javi had tucked it safely in his jacket pocket, spilling himself over it each night until Saturday afternoon. 

By the time he made his way to the hotel on Saturday, Javi was practically vibrating with excitement as he travelled up in the elevator to the eleventh floor. The hotel seemed quiet and high-end, making Javi hopeful for decent sized and relatively soundproof rooms. Finding the room and swiping the key card Dave had sent him, Javi finally stepping into the hotel room, but nothing could have prepared Javi for the sight that greeted him. 

Gently closing the door, Javi could see Marcus already spread out on the large bed, completely naked with a sheen of sweat covering his skin and his eyes pinched tightly shut as he arched his back. 

As Javi stepped closer, Marcus let out a soft moan, his legs opening further, shifting his hard cock slightly as it rested against his stomach. But the main show that drew Javi’s eyes were Dave's fingers sliding in and out of Marcus’ well lubricated hole. 

They'd clearly been at this for a while, Javi though, judging by Marcus’ straining flushed cock held erect by the cock-ring snugly at the shaft’s base and the fact that Dave was already three fingers in. The quiet squelching of the digits as they stretched Marcus’ entrance filled the room, the obscene noises going straight to Javi’s dick, awaking it as his eyes stared at the young man’s body.

“Afternoon Peña.” Dave greeted him with a bright smile, turning to Javi as he reached the end of the bed. “Right on time. Marcus needed a bit of prep, since it's been a while. So I went ahead and got started.”

At the mention of his name, Marcus slowly opened his eyes, scanning the room before blearily settling on Javi. Opening his mouth to speak, all the younger man could do is gasp as Dave carefully withdrew his fingers.

“Did you find the place ok?” Dave continued to chat conversationally, although Javi could see the outline of his erection as he stood, wiping his fingers on a towel beside Marcus. 

“I found it.” Javi ran and hand over Marcus’ chest, circling a nipple, before moving lower along his stomach. Marcus smiled, reaching out a hand towards Javi, and sighing when Javi leaned down to kiss him. “Hola, hermoso.”

“Hey Javi.” Marcus’ hands began to wander under Javi’s shirt, tugged the fabric up to expose his warm skin underneath. “I had no idea you and Dave knew each other. Small world.”

“Yeah, we go way back.” Javi smiled as Marcus’ hands roamed lower to cup his bulge. Behind him, Javi felt a pair of strong hands pulling his shirt up and over his head as Dave began to undress him. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime.”

“It’s quite the story, baby boy.” Dave nuzzled against Javi’s neck as he reached around to unfasten Javi’s jeans. “But for now, why don’t you suck on Javi’s cock while I finish getting ready.”

With Marcus’ help, Javi pushed down and stepped out of his jeans, quickly pulling off his shirt as he felt Marcus’ hot mouth envelop his hard dick. Marcus was on all fours now, swallowing the length, rocking back and forth to fuck his mouth on Javi’s cock. Threading his fingers through Marcus’ hair, Javi gripped the back of the younger man’s head, rolling his hips to rut into the hot waiting mouth of the naked man before him.

As Marcus hummed around his cock, Javi felt Dave’s arms wrap around his middle, pressing his naked form against Javi’s back. Dave’s teeth nipped at his skin, and Javi couldn’t stop himself from moaning at the feeling of Dave’s hard dick pressing between his ass cheeks. Behind him, Dave chuckled, slapping his erection against Javi’s ass before stepping away.

“Let’s get started shall we.” Dave smiled, climbing onto the bed behind Marcus and settling down on his knees. “Turn around, pretty boy. Let me use that clever mouth of yours.”

Releasing Javi’s cock with a pop, Marcus obeyed, shifting on the bed until he was facing Dave with his ass towards Javi. Javi couldn’t help but marvel as Marcus immediately engulfed Dave’s length and began bobbing his head up and down. Dave closed his eyes briefly, savoring the moment, before opening them again and looked at Javi.

“I’ve been training him, can you tell?”

“Oh, it’s pretty obvious.” Javi chuckled, running a hand over Marcus’ ass until his fingers found his slick, ready hole. “He’s so obedient.”

“Fuck him.” Dave commanded, and although Javi’s instinct was to snap back at him, he instead felt his cock throb. As much as Javi hated to admit it, Dave’s dominant side was fucking hot, despite it being a source of issues when the two of them had been together in the past. 

Lining his cock up with Marcus’ entrance, Javi pushed inside, quickly burying himself to his hilt in one thrust thanks to Dave’s prep earlier. His reward was a muffled cry from Marcus then a soft gasp as Javi withdrew, almost pulling out completely, before slamming back into Marcus.

“Oh fuck.” Marcus groan, into Dave’s thigh, as the older man stroked his dick along his cheek. “Fuck. Dave… I…”

“Open wide, baby boy.” Dave cooed, pushing his thick length back into Marcus’ throat, as Javi began to set a slow but hard rhythm. “How’s he feel, Javi? Nice and sloppy? I know you like your pussy nice and wet.”

“Fucking perfect.” Javi grunted between thrusts, feeling his balls swinging against Marcus as his hip connected each time be plunged into the younger man’s hole. 

Javi's body thrummed with arousal as Marcus' heat enveloped his cock. In front of him, Dave's fingers were treaded through the younger agent’s hair, quietly coaching him as he fucked up into Marcus' waiting mouth. 

"You're doing so well, baby boy." Dave purred, glancing up at Javi, their eyes locked as they used each end of Marcus. Javi couldn’t stop himself from smirking as Dave began to time his thrust to match Javi’s, bucking deep into Marcus’ mouth in time with his own deep pushes. 

Between them, Marcus whined and gasped around the cock in his throat, the occasional gagging noise sending goosebumps dancing over Javi’s skin. The sounds of smacking flesh filled the room as Javi hungrily drove his cock into Marcus, the tension building inside him with each sharp thrust. 

Gripping Marcus' hips, Javi bared his teeth, fighting the approaching cliff edge, watching as Dave pinched his eye tightly shut for a moment. Beads of sweat gathered on the other man's brow, and Javi knew that look. Dave was as close as he was. The sight of Marcus on his knees stuffed full of their dicks was enough on its own to finish Javi off, but Dave had been right about how he liked his ass. Marcus' hole was deliciously sloppy, greeting Javi's length with obscene ease, as though it was meant to be buried inside and stretch out enough that Javi was almost sure the young man could take them both. 

"Getting close Peña?" Dave smiled before biting his lip and letting out a long low moan. "I know I am."

“Yeah, fuck.” Javi nodded, his hips stuttering for a moment, his rhythm faltering. “I'm gonna cum.”

"This was just the appetizer anyway." Dave shifted, pulling his cock out of Marcus' mouth, making the other man whine.

"I'm so close." Marcus' voice was almost a whisper as he panted. "I can't... the ring..."

"The ring is staying on for now." Dave grunted as he began to pump his shaft in front of Marcus' face. "After we've... fuck... after a break you can cum."

Marcus let out a soft whimper but didn't protest, sending jolts of electricity through Javi straight to his cock, shattering the last of Javi's composure. Thrusting completely into Marcus, Javi began to chase his climax, jackhammering into the other man frenziedly as desire overtook him.

Ahead of him, Javi watched through the dizzying fog as Dave threw his head back, groaning wantonly as he painted Marcus' face with his release. The thick ropes spilling over the plush lips of the younger man and waiting tongue as Dave hissed and swore.

That was it. The sight and smells of Dave York milking his cock over Marcus' beautiful face was the breaking point. The coiling tension inside Javi snapped as he arched his back and came. Stars danced in front of his eyes while his cock twitch inside Marcus' used hole, flooding him as Javi emptied himself into the trembling younger man. Growling, Javi rutted into Marcus', the thrust haphazard as his knees began to buckle.

Finally, the ecstasy of ebbed away, leaving Javi, chest heaving, able to gently pull out of Marcus and collapse next to him on the bed. Further up the bed, stretched out on the pillows, Dave was idly stroking Marcus' hair as the younger man took deep calming breaths.

From his new position, Javi could see Marcus' untouched cock twitching just above the mattress. The cock-ring still snugly in place was stemming any satisfying orgasm, leaving Marcus a panting glistening wreck and his dick painfully erect. The length was beautifully flushed, with a not insubstantial puddle of precum gathered on the sheets below. They'd have to wait a while before going again, or cock-ring or not, Marcus was going to blow immediately.

"Not bad." Dave grinned, pulling Marcus closer to him into an embrace. "But we can do better."

"All right York." Javi chuckled at Marcus' incredulous look. "What did you have in mind?"

"Break first." Dave's smile gave nothing away as he stroked Marcus' sticky cheek. "There's no rush after all."

The boys aren't done, I just wanted to get this out rather than it sit there in my wip folder. So I've split the fun into two parts. Part 2 with Dave's POV will be coming soon.

#javier peña #dave york #marcus pike #pedro pascal character fanfiction #narcos #the equalizer 2 #the mentalist

[thedancingcostumeyoungadult]

Everything and more - S.R.

I said that this might take a while then I wrote it in a day oops.

Word count ~1200

Pairing: Spencer Reid/fem!pregnant!Reader

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy

A small collection of moments with Spencer as you prepare for your daughter's arrival, a continuation of Unimpressed. There's a part 3 here

The soft rumble of Spencer’s voice wakes you, your eyes blinking open in the dark as you lie on your side. In your sleepy haze you assume that he got a call, but as you wake up a little, you realize he isn’t on the phone. Without moving, you peer through the darkness at your husband, joy and love rising in your chest as you realize what he’s doing.

He lies beside you, curled up with his face pressed close to your belly. His fingers trace light circles on the skin just below your navel as he whispers to the bump, some passage from a book you’ve never read. Your belly jumps as the baby shifts, a foot or a fist poking out.

“Shh,” you can hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t see it, “you’re gonna wake your mom.” His palm rests flat on your side, his thumb brushing side to side over the skin where the baby had moved and he leans closer.

His lips brush your skin and you fight not to let the touch tickle, you don’t want to disturb the moment even as his touch sends warmth sparking through your body..

He continues, “She’s doing such a good job making you, little one. And you’re doing such a good job growing.” You smile to yourself, once again reminded, like you are every day, why there is no one you would rather be your baby’s father. Spencer’s lips leave your skin and his whispering resumes, no longer from a book, but something you recognize.

“She walks in beauty, like the night,

Of countless climes and starry skies;

All that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow’d to that tender light

Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.” As you realize his choice of authors, you can’t help but snort softly.

“You’re reciting Byron to our daughter? Byron?” He jumps at your voice, his surprised eyes finding yours in the darkness before a wide smile splits his face.

“I happen to like that poem, thank you.” He murmurs with faux indignation as he scoots up to be level with you, his hand still resting on your belly. You quirk an eyebrow at him, a matching grin spreading across your face as he catches your lips softly with his own.

“How long have you been awake?” He pulls away slightly, smoothing your hair back.

“I couldn’t sleep.” His admission tugs on your heartstrings, but another sensation overtakes it.

“Well how about a late-night drive?” Spencer catches on right away, chuckling and shaking his head.

“Somewhere with a drive through?” He asks, tapping your nose lightly. You nod and laugh with him, patting his face affectionately.

“Yep, now help me up, pretty boy.”

~

"I just don't know what to do, she’s always so uncomfortable and there's nothing I can do to help." Reid whines, slumping defeatedly into his desk chair and throwing his hands up. Morgan chuckles as he leans against the desk.

“Yeah, the last couple of weeks are rough. But it sounds like you’re doing everything right, pretty boy.” JJ appears at his shoulder, a few case files tucked under her arm.

“Hey Spence.” Her gaze flickers over his slumped form and tired eyes and she raises her eyebrows, sharing a knowing look with Morgan. “How’s she doing?” Spencer swipes his hand down his face.

“She’s resting as much as she can, but the baby’s putting pressure on her spine.” His brows furrow. “I just wish I could help somehow.”

A lightbulb goes off in Morgan’s head.

“Wait, JJ there was that one thing you told me about when Savannah was pregnant that helped her.” JJ lights up in response, snapping her fingers.

“Of course! Good thinking Morgan.” Spencer shoots forward in his chair, practically hanging off their words.

“What? What is it?” His gaze flicks between the two of them desperately as JJ sets the files on his desk so her hands are free.

“Okay, so what you do is you stand behind her and you put your hands under her belly like this.” She demonstrates, cupping her hands in front of her, “And you just lift up a little and hold it for her. It’ll take the weight off her body. The first time Will did it for me I almost cried.” Spencer looks between them, aghast, his jaw hanging slack.

“That’s not in any of the books! How-how didn’t I know that?” He sputters indignantly. Morgan laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Relax, pretty boy, you know now.”

~

You are standing in the living room when you hear the door and only a few moments later Spencer sidles up behind you, his hands snaking around your waist and drawing you close. You let your head fall back against his shoulder with a soft sigh, the warmth and support of his chest easing some of the ache in your back.

"Hi." You breathe, turning your head to the side so you can nuzzle against his neck.

"Hey beautiful." He presses a kiss to your temple, "How are you feeling?" You twist, pouting up at him.

"My back hurts, she's heavy." You complain and his heart twists in sympathy. His hands rub soothing circles on your belly, the warmth of his hands going straight through the thin material of your tank top as he fits himself even closer against your back. You sigh again, your hands coming up to cover his.

"Can I try something? I think it'll help." He murmurs, brushing his nose against your ear.

"God, please, anything." You beg, shifting your weight in an effort to ease the discomfort in your back and hips. Spencer soothes you, tucking his face against your neck as his hands slide downwards. He wraps his arms tighter around you, his hands cradling the underside of your belly. When he’s satisfied that his hands are properly placed, he lifts gently, taking the weight of the baby off of your body. Your head falls back against his shoulder as a moan fall from your lips. Relief floods your body as your spine sits comfortably for the first time in months, the deep ache in your lower back easing.

Spencer can’t help but smile against your neck as you melt against him, realizing that he is technically holding his daughter for the first time.

“Oh, Spencer Reid, you are a god among men.” He kisses your shoulder with a chuckle.

“No I’m not. You, however,” another kiss, “are divine.” It's your turn to laugh.

“You flatter me.” Lifting his head from your shoulder, he noses against your cheek, his forehead pressing against the side of your face.

“You deserve it.” You don’t answer, you just let him hold you in warm silence. Spencer breaths you in, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He still sometimes has trouble believing that this is real, that you are real. There have been times that he thought he would live the rest of his life and never feel this kind of peace, never love and be loved like this. But here he is, holding his wife and his unborn daughter, in the home they’d made together. And it was everything he’d ever dreamed of. Everything and more.

*just some extra soft Spencer bc he deserves is and frankly so do we*

*please like and reblog!*

#spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #jeanie writes #spencer reid fanfic #cw pregnancy

[tikus-library]

"Books to Bread"

Night Hunter AU

Characters: Walter Marshall x Reader

Posted: Feb 10th

WARNINGS: none?

A/N: Have a draft dump. I want to do more for this, but life is a bit chaotic rn. I haven't posted in a minute, so this is one of my many hidden drafts. I did attempt to edit but 🤷‍♀️

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

It was hard to miss the guy.

Definitely over six foot, dark unruly curls framing a serious face with a thick beard, thick dark brows drawn down as a scowl marred his lips. Nice lips, you thought, eyes raking over his tall muscular form. No better than a man, you scolded yourself with a smirk.

You shifted, careful not to draw attention to yourself as the other women in the book shop didn't even try to hide the way they ogled him.

In the town of Port Tenebris there weren't many that looked like him and plenty more women ready to welcome him. You had heard there had been a recent new body that had moved into town, ex-detective, if gossip was right…

“I've read that one.”

You jumped at the low smooth voice that came from beside you and looked over and then up… and up again till you met deep vibrant blue eyes. You swallowed as he reached out with one thick arm, fingers catching your elbow as he offered you a smile in apology.

“I didn't mean to surprise you…?”

The way he lifted an eyebrow meant he was asking for your name, instead you looked down at the book in your hands, “into romance?” You asked instead.

He held the smile, “not ashamed of it,” he answered, “and that one is actually more of a forensic thriller.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as he offered you a quick tilt of his head and a smile before going back to looking at the books in front of you. “It's a romance,” you stated.

He flipped through the book in his hands, it looked tiny, he shrugged without looking at you. He had of course seen you enter the bookstore, not that he had been following, no. He had most definitely not followed you from the tiny diner where you had verbally assaulted a jackass of a man that had been handsy with the young waitress there.

He simply wanted to get your name. Maybe your phone number… how did he do this again?

“It's a romance,” you said again. “I have every book by Billie Martinez, she writes romance.”

“I mean,” he shrugged again, suppressing the smirk that itched to fight its way to his lips, out the corner of his eye he saw you turn to him and scowl. This was something, ever since he'd stepped foot in this little Port every woman had given him the look, it had been amusing at first.

“Explain.”

He coughed to hide the short laugh that escaped him, “she hides it under the romance, but, when you read it you'll understand. You'll also want to slap the shit out of the male lead.”

You looked down at the book in your hands, he let his eyes wander to your curvy waist, “maybe… I shouldn't get it” you mused, thinking of the man at the Cafe you had laid into, “I think I've had my fair share of irritating men for the day.” He made a noise that had you looking up in time to catch his tongue flick out over his bottom lip, eyes jerking up to meet your gaze.

Had he…? No.

He cleared his throat, “fair,” it was all he could think of and watched as you started to put the book back, “but I could pay for it and then you'll not regret leaving it behind.”

You sighed, this conversation had already gone on longer than you had wanted. You had purposefully been attempting to avoid talking to him as conversations with others always seemed to go awry. In a weird way. You supposed it was your fault, no one else had that problem really.

“No, no need to buy me a book when you don't even know me.”

“Walter.”

You took a small step back, a little confused.

“Walter Marshall, Im… th-thats my name,” he smiled awkwardly, turning to you and shoving a hand into his pocket. “I started work in the Bakery in town? Owned by Kate and her husband? Uh, they offered me a job there… Now I'm not a stranger.”

You nodded, fingers tapping at the book's spine, before letting your arm drop to your side. “Nice to meet you Walter Marshall, who works in the bakery owned by Kate and her husband. I should be going.”

He had struck out yet again. Sighing heavily as you stepped away and made for the front of the store. He snatched the book up and hurried after you, eyes falling on your ass, before he rolled them scolding himself silently.

“Please, no name, let me buy you the book then. You collect her books and it'll be incomplete.”

You pulled away from him, studying him warily.

He knew that kind of look and took a step back. “I'll leave you alone,” he hummed, turning away, he shouldn't have pushed. Maybe you had moved here to hide yourself, he understood that.

“Alright,” he heard you sigh and turned around quickly. “But don't complain if I come down to find you at the bakery and yell at you there about the dumb male lead.”

Walter grinned, “you won't hear a complaint from me.” He watched you tilt your head to the side, enjoying how easily he could read your thoughts clear in your expression. “I'll even treat you to something I've baked.” Your eyes jumped back to his face, something he decided he wanted right then and there. To have your full and complete attention. “To apologize for dumb males that is.”

You snickered, eyes lighting up, “then I hope you are a baker of delicious sweets and golden bread!”

He almost forgot to breathe as your eyes scrunched up beautifully as you laughed. “You'll fall in love with my bread and butter,” Walter flashed you a toothy grin as he led you to pay for the book, “plus, this is essential to the series. You can't miss out on this book.”

“Oh, no! Then absolutely buy it.”

You followed along, noting the pairs of eyes tracking the two of you. There would be gossip and questions, a little inconvenient but nothing you couldn't handle. He thanked the cashier who nodded wordlessly and stepped towards the door where he paused, dragging a pen out of his pocket and scribbling on the receipt, tucking it into the cover of the book.

“In case the bakery is closed and you want to yell at me.”

You felt your neck heat, he wrote in all capitals, clear and neat. He crossed his sevens, huh. “No promises.”

*

Walter scowled at his phone, yet was quick to flick the screen and scan the words there blearily. It was past three am and he was due up in an hour to begin baking.. right. He was a baker now.

Unknown: I love thick slices of warm bread with butter that melts beautifully.

Unknown: He deserves to be run over…. Multiple times.

Unknown: what an idiot. He let her walk away?!

He sat up and smiled.

WM: I did warn you, suppose I owe you bread.

Unknown: Y/N

WM: ?? Uhh, which character?

Unknown: my name is Y/N

Walter woke up fully.

WM: nice to meet you Y/N.

Leave Kudos on Ao3

#books to bread #walter x reader #walter marshall #night hunter au #henry cavill #draft dump

[anjelicawrites]

Pierced Through

Paring: modern!Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Synopsis: a late night between two lovers

Warnings: switch!Feyd, switch!reader, more dominant reader, kissing, oral (m and f receiving), p in v sex, kissing, biting, scratching, overstimulation, edging, fingering, titty pinching, titty sucking, sharing the same piercings as a form of love, getting pierced as a form of foreplay, loads of piercings, reader being called “good girl” a couple of times.

A/N 1: reader is AFAB, the only descriptor is that they have long hair, for plot reasons. Where needed, they/them pronouns used. 

A/N 2: this is a modern AU with random bits of our pop culture thrown in it. 

Squinting your eyes you start to remove the makeup from your face. It has been a sweet night out, you and Feyd finally alone, eating a nice meal and just walking around town to enjoy the soft spring, after a harsh, snowy winter, reconnecting after he’s been away for work.

You ignore the chiming of your phone, it’s either the group chat with the girls, or the one you have with Feyd’s exes, the self called Harpies.

“Is What If I Were Your Mother buzzing tonight?” 

“Oh, you need to keep yourself up to date baby, it’s Pick Me, Choose Me, Love Me now.”

“Am I supposed to get the reference?” Even without eyebrows you can see the muscles lift in silent judgment.

“Grey’s Anatomy baby. You watched it with me.”

“I dissociated most of the times.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re beautiful.” 

Feyd’s hands travel slowly up the silk of your nightgown and stop under your breasts, the whiteness of his skin contrasts with the black material hugging your curves; you love wearing colorful clothes and decorate your shared apartment had been a push and pull between his monochrome austerity and your explosive personality, you’ve only folded to his request that you wear black lingerie for him (that you use truly ridiculous stuff when he’s not around it’s a secret between you and the two group chats).

You lean against his naked chest, letting your head brush against the long column of his neck, reveling in the smoothness of his skin; you miss having beard burns between your legs, your Feyd makes up for it with the bite marks he leaves on your skin when he hungers for your taste, which is always.

“I know you’ve been a bad girl.” He drawls in your ear, part of his face hidden by your hair.

“You need to be more specific than that, ah!”

Feyd’s long fingers pinch your pierced nipples through your nightgown; he was with you when you had both done, he had kept his forehead against yours while the nice lady piercer did her part. 

He had kept the low rumble of his voice to a minimum, describing how he was going to pleasure you as a reward for your courage; you were so torn between fear and excitement that you didn’t really listen to him and if the lady piercer did, she ignored him. 

Now you two match and it drives you crazy that under the expensive clothes he wears at work, Feyd hides similar body mods to yours; you haven’t gotten used to yours yet and even if your nipples have healed nicely, they’ve become more sensitive, and Feyd loves using this against you.

“I’ve noticed the new books on your beside table, little dove.” 

His hands cup your breasts, chocking the answer in your throat.

“I… I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You try to keep hold of his stare through the mirror. “I’ve moved some old books I want to read ouch! Ah! Feyd please!”

Feyd’s fingers pinch the small barbells on your nipples, only to pull at them until you start whining pathetically.

“Do you really think I don’t know all the titles on you bookshelf, little dove? Britney Spears’s biography? Really?”

You don’t answer immediately, needing to catch your breath and he takes advantage of your silence to run the piercing on his tongue up your neck, his sharp eyes not missing the way your body trembles against his.

“Par condicio baby.” You finally manage to answer. “I have read her sister’s, now hers. I want to know every detail. All the tea, as the kids say.”

“You’re truly going to become the epitome of an old busybody.” He says, with genuine affection in his voice.

“And I will share everything with you. Because you are as curious as I am, my love.”

Gently, Feyd lets his hands run up your chest until he’s reached your head of hair. 

Not only the Harkonnens, but all the natives of Geidi Prime have been genetically modified to not grow any sort of hair on their body and yours still fascinate him after all this time together. Whenever he can, he braids them before you two have to leave for work and he makes a point of undoing all your hairstyles when you are finally home, just so that he can feel the texture of your hair against his hands and the smell of your shampoo in his nostrils.

Painstakingly slowly Feyd removes all the pins from your hair, freeing each lock until they all cascade down your back and he can grab your roots, reveling in the feeling against his hands; you moan at the way he massages your scalp, slightly pulling to make you moan at his leisure. 

Under the too bright bathroom lights he can absorb all your facial expressions, he can see your nipples push against the silk of your nightgown and his mouth waters at the thought that you must be wet already, for him.

Quick, so quick that your head spins, Feyd turns you around and sits you on the bathroom counter, back to the big mirror, the hem of your nightgown already brunched around your hips.

You don’t have the chance to realize what he’s doing that two of his fingers are already under your panties, playing with the wetness there; he can’t wait to accompany you to have your clit and labia pierced, this way you two will truly match (even though you can’t have your tongue done); you two will have to stop vaginal sex for a little while, but to the greater purpose of him torturing your pretty cunt for your shared pleasure.

“Up!” He orders and you comply, lifting your arse so that he can remove your lacy panties. “Good girl.” He drawls when you spread your legs for him even wider, to accommodate his huge frame.

“Are you going to take care of me, Feyd?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, electing to suck on the delicate skin of your tight, until he’s sure a nice mark will blossom; he loves keeping you on edge: perhaps he will torment you for his own pleasure, perhaps he will give it all to you, until the lines blur.

“Don’t I always, little dove?”

“I missed you, so much.” You say with a small voice, your hand cupping his smooth cheek.

“So I did you.”

There’s a dark smirk tinging his lips as he kneels between your parted tights, his big hands on your knees in a show of ownership that has your head spin and fall back against the cold mirror.

Feyd lips are so warm against your skin, and so soft as he kisses a slow path to your cunt, up, up he goes, until his hands can grab at your hips to still your movements and open your labia with his thumbs to make way for his long tongue.

His movements are slow, the barbell on his tongue cold against your clit as he slowly massages it, writing nonsense that has you keen already. He can’t help himself but suck gently when your ankles cross behind his head to keep him in place. Over the lecherous sounds of your pleasure he can her your nails scrape against the mirror in the vain attempt to gain control: not yet, now you are for him to torment.

His tongue slowly runs down to your hole and he moans at the honey he finds there: so much and all for him! 

Hungry his tongue fucks you, the piercing stimulating all your nerves all the more, his big hands clench on your hips when you try to squirm away from his nose; on instinct you arch against his intrusion, your ankles pull him tighter against you as you wail your pleasure, small sobs like pain that spur him on all the more.

You come all over his face and keen when he starts sucking on your clit again, overstimulated and delirious you try to push him away, only for him to growl against your sensitive skin, triggering a smaller orgasm that shakes you.

Feyd stares at you with enlarged pupils, his face drenched in your sweetness, his cock torture against the cotton of his bottoms.

“Feyd, please.” You say breathless.

With a fluid motion he stands up and carries you bridal style to the bed, where he sits you to help you out of your nightgown, before discarding his soiled pajama trousers.

His pierced cock stands proud, leaking from the head; you were scared the first time you’ve seen it, imagining how painful it must have been for him, now you’ve come to love every single piece of jewelry adorning his manhood. From the Magic Cross on the head, to the small Frenulum ring, down to all the beadings on his shaft and the small ring on his perineum, you’ve kissed and played with all of them, tormenting Feyd, until he couldn’t understand if it was pleasure, or pain that triggered his orgasm.

You can’t wait to go with him, have your own privates worked on, while he adds the last beadings to complete the whole shaft: you know that sharing this will bind you tighter than the ring he will soon put on your finger, and it both excites and scares you to your core.

Feyd lays next to you to lazily kiss you, his soft lips on yours unhurriedly share your heady taste with you. His hands are in your hair, your nails are scratch down his back: you’re so hungry!

The ping of the received message interrupts you two.

“Ah shit! I think I need to answer this one.”

Feyd doesn’t say a word, he simply stares at you, his non existed brows raised.

“Baby this might be important. It’s Alia.”

Of all his Atreides relations, his little cousin is the only one he can truly stomach; he’s not happy that Chani is one of your oldest friends and that you hang out with her and Paul so much, yet he accepts your friendship with weird and off putting Alia.

“What happened with her?” He asks, curious.

“Let me check my phone and I will be able to tell you.”

With a huff Feyd goes to retrieve your phone and kneels between your splayed legs as you unlock your screen.

“There! I knew it!”

“What did she do?”

“Not her, the guy she was messaging with. He seemed so nice, too nice, if you know what I mean: he sent her a dick pick and us girls are discussing how to retaliate.”

“A dick pic?” Feyd looks sincerely puzzled. “Why?”

“You should ask your male friends. I know I hit the jackpot with you, but most of the guys out there are useless pieces of shit. Hang on, let me send this quick voice memo.” You say locking your ankles against his back to pull yourself up and kiss his nose. 

“Girls, I say that the old fashioned guillotine gif is the best way to go. My favorite is the small one chopping off the wurst but I stand with whichever you want to send. Now I am going to disappear because I’m getting laid. Cheers girls!” 

For the hundredth time, Feyd wonders what horrors that chat contains; he is not sure his Harkonnen upbringing has prepared him to face them. A whole host of women let loose without any sort of filter? No thank you!

Using his own lack of concentration, you roll the two of you, straddling his still erect cock; you raise your eyebrow at him and he just shrugs: horrified or not, you’re still naked and he hasn’t come yet.

“Fuck yourself on my cock, little dove.” He drawls.

“Not so fast, baby. You had your fun.”

When he tries to roll the two of you again, you grab his wrist and push them against the mattress and ground your naked cunt against the ridges of his cock. From your vantage point you stare at Feyd: you know he can easily manhandle you, he has done so many times, the fact that he’s letting you dominate him, that he is willingly submitting to you, drives you as dizzy and wild pleasure, as his pierced cock is.

Feyd hips kick under yours, the jewels on his manhood only enhancing the torment you’re subjecting him to, your wet, warm lips envelop his erection and he fancies he can feel your hole clench around nothing.

You straighten your back and grab at your own hair with a long moan of pleasure, Feyd’s hands grab your hips in retaliation, forcing you to move even faster on his erection; he only wished he had put weights on your nipples, just to hear you cry out in pain.

Abruptly you plant your hands on his chest to rub your engorged clit on one of the beads on his cock; the pleasure you feel makes all your muscles tremble with the effort to move, your orgasm so close, so close!

You come with a scream, your nails stabbing Feyd’s pectoral, triggering his own release between your lower lips and his muscled abdomen; he growls at the pleasure and at the frustration of not spending himself inside of you, feeling his balls draw up with the force if his orgasm.

You fall in his arms, breathing fast as you kiss all the available skin your lips can reach.

“I’m not done with you, Feyd-Rautha.” You growl in his ear.

The sound that escapes his mouth is a mix between a whine and a groan, his cock still hard and pressed between your bodies; under you his long back arches when you start making your way down the planes of his muscles, your lips finding the small rings on his nipples, your teeth pull at the metal until he keens, the small pain exploding in his engorged cock.

“Little dove.” He groans.

“None of that, my love. I’ve missed you so much.”

Feyd moans at the heath in your words: physically he’s the stronger one, yet he knows you could destroy him with a snap of your fingers.

A long litany of moans spill from his parted lips with every lick and small bite, he feels his balls draw up again, ready to spill.

“Not yet, Feyd. I want you to come inside of me.”

He growls when your hand curls around his base, your teeth pulling cruelly at the ring on his perineum as he writes on the black sheets: he’s so ready to explode for you, paint your insides with his thick cum.

You can feel his long legs scramble against the mattress when your lips find his frenulum ring, your tongue plays with the small piece of metal and the small strip of oversensitive skin; despite your cruel hold, small beads of precome bubble and slide from his cock, meeting your curious tongue.

His taste explodes in your mouth, making you ravenous as you suck on his pierced head with thirst, your teeth playing with the delicate skin; he tries to call your name when your nails rake down the skin of his tights, tortured sounds escape instead, pulled forth by your teeth pulling on one of the beads of the Magic Cross.

With a lewd pop you let his erection fall against his clenching abs, to give him a modicum of respite before attacking him again.

You rise to your knees, your body framed by his trembling legs, simply to observe your handiwork: the marks blooming on his delicate skin, his pupils completely expanded and fixed on the patch of hair between your legs and on the wetness he can see.

“Shall I sit on your face, or use your cock for all it’s worth?”

For a second Feyd can’t answer, his eyes mesmerized by your hands caressing your body and massaging your breasts: he needs to suck on your nipples, or he’ll go mad!

With disconnected movements he pats his hip and you laugh at the way need robs him of his preternatural coordination.

“Say it. I want to hear it!” You command, your fingers still pinching your nipples.

Feyd licks his lips; the room is so saturated with the smell of sex that he fancies he can still taste you on his lips.

Without breaking eye contact, Feyd growls low in his throat.

“Come and use your cock, little dove. I bet your cunt missed it.”

“I think it’s you who missed me more.” You say, crawling towards him. “What are you going to do while my new piercings will need to heal? Go mad with need?”

The idea of holding you while you get your clit pierced forces a shudder through his body: soon, it is going to be so soon!

“I can always play your arse.” He answers, burning with the need to breach you. 

“You’ll have to beg better than that.” You say, flicking his engorged head and earning a lovely yelp of pain.

You position yourself on his cock, you are both so wet you don’t need any more preparation and your cunt welcomes him with a slight tremble.

Feyd’s hands clench on your hips to help you ride with gentle movements that have your clenching muscles slowly relax around his cock, sucking him in until you’re sitting fully on him, feeling every ridge and modification against the velvet of your walls.

To give him a full view, you put your hands on his raised knees and use him for leverage. Slowly you lift yourself up and down, making sure he sees his cock, drenched in your juices, disappear where you two meet with lewd squelching sounds. 

You’ve thrown your head back, letting your hair touch his legs, and miss the way he looks at your body, how ravenous the sight of your combined comes around his base makes him. 

He groans when you bounce faster on him, beads of sweat roll between your lush breasts and he tries to sit up to suck on them, but a tight squeeze of your hole deprives him of all strength. 

“Tell me what you need, my love”. You ask, sitting firmly on his hips. 

Feyd's hands clench on your hips, your cunt is strangling him so perfectly his eyes cross. 

“You nipples…” He groans, almost in pain. “Let me suck on them!” 

Nonchalant you cup your breasts and lightly pull on the rings, not missing the way Feyd's cock twitches inside of you. 

“Do you want to suck on them? Cover all my skin with your marks?”

Feyd's body shakes under you, the wires in his head crossing with the need to taste you, and to come inside of you. 

“Yes!” He manages to groan, as desperate as a drowning man. 

Taking your sweet time to torment him, you push your weight forward and on your arms, your tits millimeters away from his hungry mouth; before he can latch his lips around one areola, you stop him. 

“What if I make you choose between my breasts and coming, tonight? What's your priority?”

Feyd's fingers stab your hips with the desperation he feels: he needs both! 

“You love my mouth on you, you never come as fast as when I fuck your cunt and pull on your rings.”

Desperate times need desperate moves. 

Pensively you cup your breasts again and start moving slowly, the cacophony of moans and sobs spurring you on. 

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the powerful heir to his family fortune, reduced to a bitch in heat under you, begging for your body, beautiful in his need of you and of your guidance. 

“I think you’re right, baby. There's nothing better than your cock in my cunt and your lips on my tits.”

You lay on him again, letting his mouth latch around one pert nipple as his hips piston desperately inside of you; as much as you’re trying to control yourself, the precipice of another orgasms is closer and closer, aided by the delicious mods on Feyd's cock against your quivering walls, hitting everywhere all at once, battering all your nerves without mercy while his teeth worry and pull at your pierced nipple: pain and pleasure a blur in your mind and in his. 

Feyd's hips ram faster and faster against your G spot, spurred as he is by your show of dominance and control over him; he can barely contain himself when you squeeze tighter than ever. You haven't ordered him, yet: he can't come without your permission. 

“Now Feyd!” 

Your barked order dissolves any control he has on himself: grabs you and pulls you tight against his hips and comes, triggering your own orgasm. 

You grind against him, prolonging your shared pleasure until it hurts and you have to let his softened cock slip from your cunt. 

You can feel his thick cum slide from your overused cunt and you shudder on him, he simply cages you against his strong body until he feels your body relax. 

His hand goes to your head to knead the long tresses, one of his favorite post sex rituals as you leave butterfly kisses all over the marks on his neck. 

“You OK baby?” You whisper gently against his skin. 

“Yes, stay.” He adds when you try to go to the bathroom. 

“We're sticky, baby.”

“You smell like me. Let me enjoy it.”

You recognize his tone, he needs to be held more to ground himself back into control. 

“I'm not going anywhere. Come here.”

You tell him and he simply puts his head against your chest, letting himself be cradled by you. 

“Let's chill, OK? I missed you.”

He doesn't answer but you can detect how heavy his breathing is: he's going to fall asleep soon and you let yourself follow him. 

#fey rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha harkonnen x y/n #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen

[julesdaydreams]

@wolfstarmicrofic I april prompt 4: Airport AU I word count: 996

Remus came to a screeching halt at the gate, huffing from having run through the airport.

Usually, Remus prided himself in his ability to be on time. Today though, everything went wrong the moment he woke up in his hotel room, causing him now to stand sweating in front of an empty gate.

“You're too late, mate. Plane left like… ten minutes ago? They just told me.”, came a smooth voice from behind him and Remus turned around to come face to face with silver eyes looking up at him.

The man belonging to them was pretty. The kind of pretty that Remus wanted to write in one of his books about. Long black waves framing his pale face, high cheek bones, lips that Remus wanted to study the shape of, trace them with his tongue, map them out with his teeth-

And fuck. Remus really shouldn't be thinking such things about a stranger. He shouldn't be thinking such things at all considering that he was about to get married tomorrow.

“Cat got your tongue?”, the stranger said and Remus was ripped from his thoughts, blinking himself out of his trance and focusing back to the man's face smirking at him as if he knew exactly the type of thoughts Remus was having.

“Shit, sorry. That's just… really fucking inconvenient.”, he said, unsure of why he was engaging in a conversation at all, when he should do anything in his power to get on the next plane to London.

“Well, same here. Unfortunately the next plane doesn't go until tomorrow at ten, so we're in for a long night.”

And that? That was absolutely fucking grand. Trust Remus to manage to be on time for the stupidest things but not make it to his own wedding.

“Fucking hell. Marc will kill me.”, he couldn't help but blurt out, walking the few steps over to some chairs and slumping down in one of them with a deep sigh.

“Who is Marc?”, came the voice again and Remus looked up at the stranger who had sat down in the chair next to Remus.

“My fiancé. We're supposed to get married tomorrow. He was already annoyed because I had this book reading yesterday and had to leave the country just a few days before the wedding and if I tell him that I won't be back in time… let's just say I'm not sure I'll have a fiancé to marry anymore tomorrow.”

He winced at the thought, feeling guilty about the whole thing and he hadn't even called Marc yet. He really should get to that…

“Hmm, that sucks. But I'm sure if he loves you, he'll understand. Sure, he won't be happy about it, but you can always postbone the wedding?”, Sirius said kindly, giving him a small smile that should've made Remus feel better but didn't really do that much.

“Yeah… totally. Sorry, I'll call him real quick.”, he said half-heartedly before standing up and walking a few steps to give himself some privacy.

He dialled his fiancé's phone number and Marc was on the line instantly.

“Remus? What's wrong, shouldn't you be on the plane by now?”, came a worried voice and Remus wanted to kick himself to cause it.

“Hey, yeah, sorry. Uhm… listen I didn't catch my flight, there were these problems the whole day and…”, Remus began to explain the situation and the next twenty minutes where spent on the phone with a very angry Marc, calling him all kinds of names and cursing at how stupid Remus' book thing was in the first place and how he should've just stayed at home. The call ended with a gruffly said “Don't expect me to wait for you at the altar”, and Remus was left staring dumbly at his phone screen, feeling like the worst human being on the planet.

He turned around and his eyes snapped back to the stranger who was still sitting in the same place he had before, looking at Remus with a slight frown that told him that he heard the whole thing.

He sighed before walking back to his seat, slumping down with a sigh for the second time in the last hour.

“He sounds like a dick.”, came the stranger's voice and Remus’ eyes snapped towards silver ones that looked displeased.

“What? No, he isn't. If anyone is a dick, it's me! I can't even be there for my own wedding!”, Remus exclaimed. He felt the need to defend Marc. Clearly, Remus was the one who had fucked up and it was only natural to be angry at that.

“Yeah, sure. But that's no reason to call you all those nasty things. It's not like you planned on missing your plane, did you? From what I've heard it sounds more like the universe did everything in it's power to make sure you wouldn't get on that plane in time to marry him tomorrow.’

Remus didn't know what to respond to that, but whether Marc's reaction was justified or not really didn't matter anymore.

“Either way. It definitely sounded like he was done so… I guess I don't have a wedding to get to after all.”, he sighed, thinking about how disappointed his mother would be when he told her.

“You never know, maybe it's for the better.”, answered the man and Remus was about to call him out on the sad attempt of making him feel better, but something in the silver of his eyes made him come up short.

“Yeah, maybe.”, he said dumbly, voice soft for some unknown reason.

The man gave him a bright smile before extending his hand.

“I'm Sirius, by the way.”

Remus took it.

“Remus, nice to meet you.”

#hp marauders #marauders fandom #marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #airport au #short story #wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #guys I'm so proud I actually managed to keep it under 1000 words

[ghoststyles]

Fairway to Heaven - Finale

Is it a Christmas miracle???

WC: 6.5K

Read previous parts here.

“Birdie?”

Briar is sure her heart is about to drop out of her ass. She begins to wiggle her toes to double check the scene unfolding in front of her is actually happening. Clutching her bag, journal, phone and coffee to her chest, she raises her eyes to meet Harry’s as she swallows thickly.

Her fight or flight is kicking in, but before she can flee, Harry is grabbing her wrist with his empty hand. This motion transports her mind to their first run-in at Wynnewood.

“Hi- I, what are you doing here?”

Harry’s brows furrow, bringing his index and middle finger to roll over his lips, slightly rolling his bottom one. 

“I could ask the same,” he starts, taking a deep breath before diverting his gaze to the boy sitting to his left. “I-well, this is Oliver.”

The small boy’s ears perk up as he hears his father say his name. He nibbles on his bottom lip, triggering a dimple in his left cheek identical to Harry’s.

“Mate, this is Papa’s friend Briar,” Harry stumbles, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. Girlfriend, lover, light of his fucking life. Just a few of the terms he’d rather use to describe her.

The air is knocked out of her lungs as Harry struggles to introduce them. Of course she’d recognize this child anywhere. 

“Papa showed me a picture of your doggy,” Oliver’s eyes light up as he meets her gaze. Briar’s mouth opens slightly before she replies, shocked Harry mentioned her to him at all.

“He’s a silly boy, right? His name is Gus,” Briar smiles down at him. 

Oliver smiles and nods, taking another bite of his croissant.

“Sorry he jacked your table. D-do you mind if we join?” Harry’s expression is a mix of terror and hope as he begins to pull out a chair for her.

“Oh, um, I was just leaving actually,” she trails off. 

Harry’s eyes briefly dart to the nearly full drink and pastry on a ceramic plate, indicating she wasn’t taking anything to go. He tilts his head at her knowing she’s full of shit. 

Harry continues to pull her chair out, silently signaling that she won’t be getting out of this one. So, now she is sat directly between Harry and the boy. She places her palms on her thighs, trying to wipe the sweat that’s formed since this run-in began.

“Are you out here visiting your mom?”

Briar’s eyes dart back-and-forth. Oliver is still sitting next to her and looking at his sticker book, oblivious to the awkward tension between them.

“Yes, we all flew out here last Sunday. We missed our original flight because Cormac forgot his I.D. But it’s been smooth since then,” Briar hears herself start to ramble. “My brothers and Patrick have been golfing every single day, so I’ve been on my own."

Harry tilts his head, “Wow, so did we. I planned a two week trip out here, just the two of us. I wanted to show Oliver where Camille and I spent a lot of time before he was born. We jammed a lot of stuff into the first few days, but I think we’re quickly running out of steam,” Harry chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. 

His stomach is churning, unable to eat the pastry he got for himself. His eyes wander over to Oliver, who now has strawberry jam on his cheeks. Harry plucks a napkin from his stack and hands it to him, to which he murmurs a quiet merci.

Briar smiles at his little French accent, feeling a little tug at her heart. 

Harry lets out a little sigh, unsure how to keep the conversation flowing. He leans a little closer to her, his eyes reflecting those of a wounded animal. His chance is right in front of him, so he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try. 

His voice low, he starts, “Bri, what are the chances we can find time to talk while we’re both here?”

She knew it was coming, but the skin on her chest prickles with heat. Her thumb picks at the cuticle of her right ring finger.

“W-who will watch Oliver?” is the only thing she can muster up the courage to reply.

He leans even closer, his elbows resting on his knees as he grabs her hand gently. He smiles when she doesn’t jerk away and meets her eyes. He rubs his thumb gently over her knuckles. 

“We have a nice little secluded beach at the place we’re staying. Come by after he goes to sleep?”

Before she chickens out, she nods. Harry unclenches and inhales deeply, heart pounding. 

“Thank you. I think for me to be able to move on, I just need to lay everything out.”

Briar’s heart lurches at his phrasing. She tries to remain stone faced, but it’s taking everything in her to not jump into his lap and grovel. 

“O-okay. Um, just, text me the address, please,” she fumbles. “I should head back home now anyway.”

She turns to face Oliver and places a light touch on his shoulder, “Bye, Oliver, it was nice to meet you.”

“Au revoir, miss Briar,” he flashes her a Cheshire cat grin she's seen a few times before.

Turning back to Harry, she gathers her things and says goodbye quietly before walking off the patio. Harry stands up as if he were going to chase after her. He bites his lip, holding back a smile before sitting back down at the table with his son. He got her to talk to him.

He got her to talk to him.

~

Once Beachwood Cafe is out of Briar’s direct sight, she sits down on a curb to regulate her heart beat. What are the fucking chances?

She replays everything in her head from the moment they bumped into one another to her high-tailing it off the patio. Did she sound like an idiot? Or give off a vibe that she’s not interested? 

He’s even more gorgeous than she remembered him to be. His skin was lightly sun kissed and his normally sunken and dark bags under his eyes look light and glowy. When Briar’s eyes weren’t cast down at her lap, she focused on his pillowy bottom lip that slightly bounced as he drew out his words. His words — the slow drawl and meticulous enunciation of each word. Her name rolling off his tongue sounded like the bells at heaven’s gates. 

In this moment, her heart feels sunken below her gut. She’s sat criss-cross on the curb just around the corner from the cafe as Montecito moms whip past her with their $1,000 strollers and $24 smoothies. Willing herself to keep moving, she haphazardly rises from the curb, grabbing her drink and her belongings to make her way back to the house. 

The walk isn’t long, but it is uphill. The sun is already glaring in her face, making her irritable beyond repair. They only have 2 more days before they go back to the east coast, so she knows she has to shove her true feelings for her mother down deep. 

She enters the house through the side door that overlooks the small beach area below. The house is open and airy, so her mother knew she was there immediately. 

“Hi, baby! How was your breakfast? Was that the last cafe on the list?”

Briar inhales deeply to deflect her mom’s ambush of a million questions.

“It was good, and yeah, the last one,” she trails off. “I, uh, actually ran into Harry.” 

Catherine looks up from the sink where she’s rinsing off dishes from breakfast. She gently wipes her hand off with a towel before shooting Briar a gentle look of confusion.

“Oh? Why…why is he here? Did he follow you out here or something?” Her pitch increased at the end, now realizing her daughter may be in trouble.

“No! No, nothing like that. He and his ex lived here for years, actually. When you were moving here he told me about it. He brought Oliver on a trip. Just the weirdest coincidence,” Briar rambles out as she sits at a stool at the kitchen counter. 

“How did he seem? Heartbroken?”

Briar chuckles, “quite the opposite, actually. If anything, I’m the one that’s a mess. I just ruined everything. He asked to see me tonight, and it sounds like he’s ready to get closure and move on. I figure it’s the least I can do.”

Her mother leans her elbows on the counter, looking her dead in the eyes. “Briar Elizabeth,” she starts, as a snarl breaks out across her face. “You say what you feel. Don’t ever just go along with what a man says, because it’s only you that will get hurt in the end.  If you think you ruined things, then you have the power to fix it.”

Briar is stunned. She’s never heard her mother speak this way. On the other hand, she’s never had to go to her for relationship advice. 

“I - thanks, Mom. It means a lot to me that you care.” 

Catherine’s face tweaked at Briar’s response, a few tears prickling in her eyes. “I know I was a shitty Mom. I kick myself every day for it. Watching the young girls around here idolize their moms - it kills me. But, I had to get right for myself to be good to you,” she chokes out. “And I want to be good to you.”

Briar nods, her heart beating out of her chest. She slowly rises to her feet to meet her mom on the other side of the kitchen island. She crashes her face into her mom’s neck like she’s wanted to do so many times throughout her childhood. 

“Thank you, Mom,” Briar sobs.

Catherine rubs her back gently as tears fall on her own cheeks. Their moment is broken up as Briar’s brothers stumble through the door after a morning at the driving range.

Welles is the only brother that notices their embrace, and he gently smiles at Briar before wiping a tear from her cheek. Catherine extends her arms to welcome him into their hug. 

Briar’s heart feels a fraction of the way healed. The last step is to win back the man who she’s irrevocably and hopelessly in love with. 

~

“What was your favorite part of the aquarium today, mate?” Harry makes eye contact with his mini-me in the rear view mirror as they head back to their bungalow. Harry’s stomach twists in anticipation of seeing Briar tonight. If she shows up. 

“The otters!” Oliver squeals, sending him into a frenzy of blabber that Harry can’t even begin to decipher. “I like that they hold their babies on their bellies while they sleep!”

“I liked them, too. What were their names? Do you remember?”

“Ummmm, the mama was Georgia and the baby was Beans.”

Harry smiles to himself before getting down to business. “Shower and jammies right when we get in, okay? Then you can read to me before bed.”

Oliver nods before laying his head on his new stuffed narwhal. Harry pulls into the bungalow’s shallow driveway before cutting the engine of the classic car. Oliver unbuckles and nearly jumps over the door of the convertible when Harry opens his door. He smiles to himself, eternally grateful he planned this trip. He finally feels like his pieces are falling into place, especially after feeling shattered for so long.

Oliver skips back to his room to start the shower. Harry stretches his achy back and sits gently on the sofa. He pulls his phone out to send one more “.” text to Briar. The message is blue, so he braves another text.

🦊: Hi. If you’re still willing to meet, the address is 721 Plaza Pacifica in Montecito. I can also pick you up. Just let me know what you prefer.

Harry lightly smacks his head against the cushion behind him. There’s no possible way to make this message less awkward. He thinks he’s been more flirty and forward in an email to Niall.

It’s no less than 30 seconds before he receives a response. His heart soars at the 🐥emoji on his screen. 

🐥: Thank you. I can come over around 8? Does that give you enough time to put Oliver to sleep? 

🦊: That’s perfect. See you soon.

He locks his phone and tosses it aside. His heart squeezes at her thoughtfulness and consideration for his son. It kills him that she ever thought she’d be a burden in their lives. 

He hears the water turn off in the bathroom, signaling the little guy is out of the shower. He’s thankful Oliver isn’t a trouble maker and can be trusted to do things independently. He still heads back into his room to help with pajamas, teeth brushing and a book. 

Oliver is 7 now, so he reads his books to Harry. It’s amazing how quickly he’s mimicked Harry’s accent and barely sounds French. He’s curious how this will change as he gets older. 

They wrap up when Oliver starts to yawn. Harry kisses his hair and makes sure he’s snug in his blankets. Some anxiety washes over Harry knowing he’s about to head out to the beach while Oliver is sleeping, but he tries to push it to the back of his mind. 

It’s 7:45 when bed time is all said and done, so Harry freshens up with a comb to his hair and dab of cologne on his neck. He has no intentions of doing anything but grovel for Briar’s love back, but he won’t turn her down if there’s a moment. 

Harry sits idly on the sofa as he waits for her. His leg bounces annoyingly and the skin around his nails have been bitten raw. Headlights flash in the windows, indicating she’s here. Harry exhales before approaching the front door. Indecisive whether or not to open it prior to her knocking, he stands flush with the wall away from the window like a creeper.

Briar is standing in front of the bungalow with a nervous look on her face. She debated turning around and heading home, but her mother’s words ring in the back of her mind. Exhaling, she approaches the cream door and gently knocks on the small glass window portion. 

Harry’s heart lurches in his chest at the sound of her taps on the door. He sucks in a breath and counts to five before gently opening the door. It’s a brief second before Briar gains the courage to meet his eyes. The corner of Harry’s mouth curls up ever so slightly into a presumably creepy smile as he wills himself not to drop to his knees and beg for her back. If he needs to, he's prepared to follow her wishes and let her go without a fuss, no matter how much it breaks his heart.

“Hi. Thanks for coming. Come on in,” Harry steps aside to welcome her in, taking notice of her outfit. White linen pants hug her legs nicely, while a chunky knitted cardigan covers the rest of her. Her hair is longer; nearly touching her backside. 

Briar shuffles into the bungalow before gently setting her bag on the arm of the sofa. She stands awkwardly as she picks at her nails and taking in his look. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him at the coffee shop earlier. 

His outfit matches hers; a chunky cardigan over a white tank top and light-wash ripped jeans. His feet are bare, but she’s sure he’ll slip on his signature vans that are so beat up they deserve to be put to rest. 

“I- um. Is Oliver in bed already?” she flounders over her question, unsure why she’s even asking that. 

Harry smiles at the mention of him, “Yeah. Long day at the aquarium. He didn’t even fight me to stay up later.”

Briar smiles before her eyes shift nervously around the room. “Should we go out to the beach? Like you said earlier?”

“Yeah, it’s really nice down there. I’ll grab us a blanket,” Harry says, grateful he has a chance to leave the room to collect himself. 

He disappears down the dark hallway, leaving Briar to place her palms over her eyes to keep from crying. She takes two self-regulating breaths, figuring she only has a minute before he returns. 

Little does she know, Harry is leaning against the door frame in his bedroom to try and feel grounded. He looks down at his trembling hands before grabbing the throw blanket off the chair in the corner. Instead of returning to the living room, he pokes his head into Oliver’s room to make sure he’s settled before they go outside. 

Briar jumps when Harry returns, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Uhm, follow me,” Harry nods his head to the back door leading to the deck. 

The view from the bungalow is similar to her mother’s, unobstructed of the ocean, and just slightly angled towards Los Angeles. The skyline is visible on a clear day, though those have been few and far between.

Harry pads down the wooden steps to the secluded beach, making sure to clear any brush that may get in her way. He looks back periodically to make sure she didn’t make a run for it. Each time, she met his eyes and smiled gently. 

They make it to the beach, so Briar admires the color of the water while Harry lays out the blanket. Harry sits down, unsure whether it’s still his place to beckon her over to him. He decides to leave her be and let her move at her own pace. Hunching over, he wraps his arms around his knees.

Unable to prolong this talk any further, Briar retreats to the beach from the shoreline to join Harry on the blanket. He scoots closer to the edge to allow her to have some space. 

Briar quietly clears her throat and looks at Harry expectantly. They’re dancing around the conversation they desperately need to have. 

“How have you been?” Harry starts. He has to keep from pulling a face, unsure why he chose to start off that way.

Briar nods, “I’m good, yeah. Busy with school and the club. You went back to England, I heard?”

Harry reciprocates her nod and mumbles the mentions of his family and relaxation.

“Listen, I-I don’t know where to begin, so I think I’m just going to start talking,” Briar blurts out. “I have a lot of regrets about what happened.”

This statement piques Harry’s interest. He leans closer to her, making direct eye contact. For a second, his stomach swirls with butterflies. 

“I was being a little irrational. But at the same time, I felt like a big decision needed to be made and felt like I didn’t get any preparation or reassurance,” Briar nearly whispers, her sad eyes looking back at him. “I know you said things and told me not to worry, but it didn’t feel like it was enough. So it felt easier to remove myself from it.”

He can feel his heart breaking all over again. He knows in the months between receiving the package from Camille then spontaneously going on the trip to France he neglected to communicate his thoughts. Briar deserved a game plan, and Harry spent all of his time in his head. He nods at her admission, before replying softly.

“You’re right. I wasted a lot of time in my feelings and tried to process everything on my own, when I should’ve done it with you. You’re my world, Birdie. There was never a moment I pictured this new normal without you in it.”

Briar’s heart sings at his use of present tense. You’re my world. She bites her lip as a tear wells up in her eyes. 

“When I got to your house that day, t-to get my stuff, I already felt so awful. And to find out you changed the locks was just so disgusting,” she sniffles. Harry cringes, knowing it was manipulative and wrong. “It felt like you were trying to hold me hostage.”

“I know, I know, Birdie,” He says with a bit of exasperation. “You have to understand I was an entire ocean away, and I was losing the most important person to me. It was an act of desperation. I’m not trying to justify my actions, because I know more than anyone that it was a dick move. I’m so sorry for that.”

Briar nods, appreciative of his apology. Stray tears are still falling down her cheeks, so Harry gently reaches up to wipe them away. She closes her eyes when his palm rests gently on her cheek. 

“My time home allowed me to do a lot of reflecting. Every day that I couldn’t talk to you, my love for you got stronger and stronger. So, I’m just going to fucking say that I miss you, and I need you in my life. A-and I know you have hesitations about Oliver and now Camille, but I promise if you just trust me, we’ll figure it out. I just need you to trust me.”

His hand is still on her cheek, preventing her from looking away. Without a moment of hesitation, she closes the gap to link their lips together. She rises to her knees to meet his height as the intensity of the kiss builds. Neither of them expected this. Briar was prepared to have her heart broken, and Harry was prepared to watch her go.

Briar pulls back, tears still falling. She stares into his eyes directly, scanning his face for any moments of regret. Then, Briar starts to laugh.

Harry’s brows furrow, unsure where this is coming from. At this point, the sun is completely gone, and they’re only surrounded by the sound of the crashing waves. Harry’s look of perplex is making her laugh even harder.

Through her fits of giggles, she finally says, “You said you were ready to move on this morning at the coffee shop! I was prepared to have my heart broken.”

Harry hangs his head, unable to even process this. “I was prepared to let you go for good! It wasn’t fair to hold on if there’s nothing there.”

“I wanted to fucking call you the very next day. But you know me,” she laughs again, wiping her eyes.

“Stubborn little bugger,” Harry says as he connects their mouths again. He pushes her down so she’s resting on her elbows, still on the blanket. He slots his legs to fit perfectly.

Harry’s hands wander all along her body the way they were always meant to. His broad, calloused hand slides to grip her side, before inching closer to her cunt. His other hand plays with the string of her pants, loosening them for access. 

Briar knows better than to have public sex, let alone on a beach, but she can’t bring herself to care. Harry toys with her underwear, rubbing delicately over her mound. Unsurprisingly, she’s wet. It’s a reflex at this point. He circles her clit a few times, eliciting a gasp followed by a pathetic whimper from her pretty, glossed lips.  

He slides one finger inside, closing his eyes as he does so. He nudges her spot, sending a shiver directly down her spine. Moving his kisses from her mouth to her neck, he sucks gently on the column of her throat. This distracts her, so he inserts one more finger. He pets gently until he feels her squeeze him and writhe around.

“Get there, Birdie. Missed you so much. You’re my soulmate. Can you come for me, baby?”

A prickle of heat builds on her chest as she cries out and slams her face into his neck. She tries to relax, but her mind flashes to the reality in front of her. She isn’t single.  Her ragged, shallow breaths are masked by the waves. Harry’s hand leads her to lay back down on the blanket gently. He’s not looking for anything in return. He missed their connection more than anything. 

He maneuvers to leave his body on top of hers, but not crushing her. Looking down at her, a shy smile adorning her features, he places a gentle kiss on her lips one last time before rolling over to stare up at the sky. 

He intertwines their pinkies as they lay there, a comfortable silence washing over them. Guilt washes over Briar, thinking about Spencer. She’s never been one to think cheating is okay, no matter how south the relationship was moving.

Eventually, they stand up to walk back in the house. Being outside away from Oliver gave him anxiety. Briar understands, so she walks with him hand in hand. 

Before they reach the steps, Briar stops abruptly. 

“This is the worst time to bring this up. But, I started seeing someone while we were apart. I’m still technically seeing him,” Briar says, staring directly at the ground.

“The barista,” Harry replies simply. 

Briar’s head shoots up in confusion, “How did you know that?”

Harry leans on the railing, looking up at the sky again. “Went into that coffee shop the morning I came back to the states. I sat in a booth to wait for my food, and you came in. Looked like you went on a run. You were wearing that purple pull over I love,” he laughs to himself. “Y’looked gorgeous, and all I could do was sit there and watch.”

Briar is speechless. She knows exactly the day he’s talking about. She felt off all night, so she decided to go for an early morning run. She went into the shop to see Spencer halfway through. Her anxiety spiked after leaving the store, but she had no idea why. 

“I can’t in my good conscience do anything else with you until I end it. Will you wait for me? It’s just for a few more days,” Briar rambles. Despite them mending their feelings, she still can’t help but feel like it’s a dream. 

The same level of uneasiness washes over him, before he locks her pinkie again, “here for it all.”

~

In the short drive back to her mom’s house, Briar sheds all the tears she’s held in for over 12 weeks. She cries tears of joy, fear and anguish. Sirens ignite in her head: cheater, cheater, cheater. A surge of guilt swirls in her stomach, unable to even comprehend her actions.

Even though she knows Harry is the love of her life, Spencer doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. She pulls into the driveway and pulls out her phone to find a message from Harry.

🦊: Here for it all. I am going to refrain from saying I love you since we’re going to take it slow. So, I like you. 

The grin overtakes her entire face, and her heart swells. The reassurance and support she was missing all those weeks ago. She gently replies, a simple end to their conversation. She wants to be strategic about this. Minimal contact with him until she ends things with Spencer.

🐥: Like you, too ❤️

She notices no text from Spencer. They haven’t been communicating while she’s been gone, but she still feels like a text every once in a while would be appreciated. Pulling up their previous text thread, she notices her lack of enthusiasm in their messages. She can tell Spencer tries to keep her engaged, but she replies nonchalantly, if at all. 

Locking the phone, she slides it in her pocket before walking back into the house. It’s mostly quiet, apart from a quiet glow of the TV in the living room. There, Briar spots her uncle watching Seinfeld reruns. 

“Hey, Bear,” Patrick’s grovelly voice speaks up. “Where are you coming from?”

Briar sighs gently, placing her bag on the counter. Patrick pats the spot beside him to beckon her over. She sits, pulling her knees in and laying her head on his shoulder. 

“I saw Harry,” she says quietly.

She can feel him tense, and he speaks up after a beat. “Oh? Why… why is he here?”

Briar laughs lightly, as that’s the same response she got from her mother. 

“He used to live here, actually. He planned a trip out here with his son. We ran into each other at the cafe up the street. So, he asked me over to see if we could talk, so, I went.” 

Patrick nods. “You know I don’t like to pry, so I didn’t. But I didn’t understand why it ended so suddenly.”

His tone is inquisitive, but it makes Briar roll her eyes. He and Harry became buddies, so she’s not surprised Patrick is only looking at it from that perspective.

“I freaked out when I felt like I wasn’t part of the equation. The time away was good and allowed me to think about how I really feel about the whole thing.”

He nods absently, turning the volume down on the TV. “So, what’s the verdict, then?”

“We’re…a thing. I just have something to take care of before we’re back together.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “Whatever, just let me know when I can call him to go golfing again.”

Briar punches his shoulder, laughing a little. They sit in silence, enjoying one another’s company. With flutter of the butterflies in her stomach, Briar mentally prepares for her flight back to the east coast.

~

It’s been two days, and Harry hasn’t heard a word from Briar. He’s checked in over text, refraining from sending his classic “.” message, and opting to ask how her day is going.

He’s not nervous. But the constricting feeling in his throat for the last 48 hours isn’t doing him any good. At this point in their trip, Harry has lost all control of his boy, who’s currently throwing a bouncy ball against the wall as he watches on.

“You excited to see mum and your sister? And Theo?” Harry adds his former friend’s name at the last minute. 

“Yeah,” Oliver sighs, sitting down on the sofa, out of breath from jumping around. “I’ll miss you, though, Papa.”

Harry’s heart warms at that, so he leans in to place a kiss on the brown curls, just a shade lighter than his own. 

“I’ll miss you, too, mate. But mum and I will have a plan for when we’ll have a visit, yeah? Maybe spend some time with me on school holiday in America. And I’ll pop over to France when I can. Still want to introduce you to your auntie, grannie and cousin in Manchester.”

Oliver’s face beams at that. “When can I meet Gus?”

Harry pauses, caught off-guard by his son’s elephant-like memory.

“Well, I’ll make sure a visit with Gus is included in our plan. I think the two of you would be best mates.”

“I think so, too.” 

“Alright, shower and then bed. We’ve got a flight tomorrow.”

~

The Barlowes are not early risers by nature. It’s a miracle they are in this line at security with time to spare before their 6 AM flight. 

Her goodbyes with her mom went smoothly; leaving with not nearly the amount of animosity she’d come to California with. Her brothers all seem happy and healed; but ready to return to their normal lives.

Briar sees the few unread messages from Harry and even Spencer, causing nervous stirring in her gut. It’s not that she’s ignoring Harry. Or Spencer. She just feels like a piece of shit. 

While Briar had a robust roster in high school and college, she never saw two men at once. Her head and her heart are tied to Harry; but her conscience lies with Spencer. She puts on her headphones and tries to ignore the chaos her brothers are causing at the gate. For a moment, she closes her eyes, until she feels Cormac pile on top of her.

“Ugh! Stop!” Briar screeches, shoving him off. He rolls off the stiff leather sofa and onto the floor. “For god’s sake, you’re 18, Cormac!”

“Jeez! Lighten up!”

Briar scowls, pulling her hood over her head. Patrick smacks Cormac’s head, giving him a look.

Before they know it, their flight is boarding. Before stepping onboard, Briar looks around to try and spot two familiar heads full of curly hair. They’re one of the last to board, so she frowns to herself and continues to her seat.

~

Harry and Oliver caught a later flight, narrowly missing Briar and her brothers. Not on purpose, but Harry is grateful for it. They’re back together, right? Why is he freaking out? 

Oliver is exhausted from the trip, the two of them doing enough activities to last a lifetime. Harry is scrolling his photos, placing his favorites in a shared album for Camille to see. The family will spend a few days in New York before returning to France; enough time for Oliver to adjust to the time difference. 

He’s made sure to download plenty of shows and movies for Oliver; taking the time to show him Harry’s guilty pleasure movie, Happy Gilmore. They laugh, eat snacks and reminisce on the trip.

The plane descends into JFK, causing Oliver to grip his dad’s hand tightly. Harry’s heart swells, gently tapping on his little hand with his thumb. He can’t help but be grateful for Briar in her quest to make sure Harry is an active part of Oliver’s life. 

They collect their bags and set off to find Theo, Camille and Amelie. Oliver drops everything in his hands, scampering off to greet his mother. Theo shakes Harry’s hand and pats Oliver in a light hug. Camille pulls Harry into a tight hug, thanking him for taking Oliver on this trip.

“I’m really glad you did this, H. I think it’s good for the both of you.”

Harry nods, a tight-lipped smile donning his face. 

“I’ll be in touch to make plans for school vacation. Did you drive or are you getting picked up?”

“Driving. You guys go ahead.”

“Bye, Papa! I love you,” Oliver says quietly as he hugs Harry’s waist,  trying to mask the sadness in his voice.

“I love you too, mate. So much. I’m so glad you came on this trip with me.”

They hug for a few more moments, before Theo lightly whistles, indicating the car is here.

Harry waves sadly, watching them go. He sits on a bench as gathers himself. He pulls out his phone, with no word from Briar. His heart pings with sadness and a little anxiety, but he knows she has to take care of the barista before they are ‘back together’. It sucks, but he understands. 

Pulling his checked bag, he heads for the parking area. It’s busy with families traveling and waiting for their Ubers and rental cars. Placing his bags in the back, he spots Oliver’s booster in the back, making him jut out his bottom lip.

In pure silence, Harry heads back home. 

~

Briar bursts into the coffee shop, not caring who she bumps into this early in the morning. Spencer pokes his head out from the back, his smile lighting up when they make eye contact.

“Bri! You’re home!”

She smiles shyly, and a bit solemnly. 

“Hey, yeah. Can we talk?”

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel and nods, brow furrowing slightly. He nods in the direction of an empty booth, to which they slide in simultaneously. 

Spencer crosses his hands over one another on the table, looking at her expectantly. 

“Um, so, when I was on my trip, I did some thinking and some soul-searching. So, I’m thinking we should stop seeing each other.”

He flinches slightly, opening his mouth and then suddenly closing it. Spencer gnaws on his lip for a second before sighing lightly.

“I mean, I don’t feel like your head has been in it the entire time, so I don’t think I’m surprised,” Spencer shrugs.

Briar’s stomach drops at that. She knows she hasn’t been herself. He’s a rebound at best. 

“I recognize that, and I’m so sorry. I’ve just had a lot happen over the last few months. I hope we can still be friendly. We have another year left at school, anyway.”

Spencer nods, looking out the window for a second, “Is it anything I did?”

“No, no. I promise. I’m just a little hung up on my last relationship. It was pretty serious and ended abruptly. I hope you can understand that."

“Of course. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Briar.”

Her heart swells, appreciating his genuine response to her confession. She pats his hand on the table and slides out of the booth without even looking back.

She needs to get home to Harry.

~

Still riding in silence, Harry approaches his familiar street. He’s miserable going back to a quiet house. He debates stopping over at Niall’s to listen to him talk for hours just to feel something. 

He sees his nosy neighbor, Maureen, watering her plants in the front yard, a little close to his fence. He know’s she’ll be willing to spill all of the suburban gossip he’s missed. 

Gently bringing his Range Rover to a stop in front of the garage door, his heart stops when he realizes who Maureen is speaking to over the fence. 

Briar Barlowe quickly rises from her position on his front step, a nervous yet hopeful look on her face. The fingers of her right hand slightly pick at the cuticles of her left, hands interlocked in front of her. 

Frozen, Harry hesitates before finally opening the car door and running to his girl. He leaves the car running and door wide open without a care in the world.

“Harry, I almost called the cops. She’s been here over an hour waiting for you,” Maureen snipes, giving Briar a look. 

“Shut up, Maureen! Jesus!” Harry snaps, not even looking over at the nasty woman.

Briar laughs, not even believing that this is how they reunite — for good. Their lips crash and embrace lovingly, not even taking a second to breathe. The force of both their bodies send them into Harry’s flower beds. 

The fall doesn’t stop them from kissing and staring longingly. Maureen’s hose sprays them lightly, before she gives up completely and goes inside. They laugh through the series of kisses and gropes, some tears starting to run down their cheeks. 

They pull away, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Hi,” Briar whispers.

“Hi,” he replies. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Here for it all, right?”

“I fucking love you,” Harry says, deeply kissing her again.

“I fucking love you too, Harry.”

__________________________________________________________

EEEEEEE THATS THE END!!!! BUT I HAVE AN EXTRA ALREADY WRITTEN THAT I MAY POST SOON <3 THANK YOU FOR BARING WITH ME AND LOVING MY LITTLE BRAIN BABIES

Taglist:

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