#i promise my replies will be more up to my usual standard of writing

[shieldarchitect]

An Unusual Design Opportunity

Starter for @doctor-brucebanner

The car still smells new and Charlie wonders what the current catastrophic car death count is up to; the agent that was assigned to handling her vehicular misfortunes used to have a sign up in his workstation stating "It has been X number of days since Charlie's last car incident." She's about a half mile from the rather discreetly located fancy shmancy home of Dr. Banner - or well, The Hulk? Professor Banner? She would have to be sure to ask what he preferred to go by these days.

It was almost intimidating, having to work with one of the Avengers. Especially after all they'd done to restore humanity. S.H.I.E.L.D. apparently, recommended her specifically for this job, and she was thrilled at the opportunity to provide accessible design in a new way. She slows down as she nears the entry, parks, and gets out, slinging a messenger bag over her shoulder with her typical client introductory meeting supplies.

A quick check of her phone for missed messages as she walks up to the door gets her in proximity of the door, but she hesitates to knock, hand hovering above the surface for a few seconds. There is a little nervousness lingering in the back of her mind, and it pops to the forefront for just a few seconds, recalling seeing the man's larger greener form using her car as a type of baseball bat against the invading army of the Chitauri - surely her supervisors wouldn't have volunteered her for anything that would put her in danger. She shakes it off and finally knocks three times.

[thefrogman]

Back in the olden days, if you used the "keep reading" function on a Tumblr-dot-com post, it would

not get very many notes.

At all.

I am not sure exactly why.

I think people hated pressing an extra thing.

But maybe it was also a psychological phenomenon where, given the choice, they were unwilling to trust me with their time.

But if I sucked them in with a good story or a compelling image, they would get serious FOMO.

When I created a super high effort post-of-length I would get comments like, "This was way too long but before I realized it I was reading the last sentence."

That was a really good feeling.

I used to do tests to figure out the best posting strategies and I think I figured out you'd lose about 90% of your notes if you did a "keep reading" post.

So that notion was ingrained in my brain again and again from when I was very note-obsessed and I have since avoided the "keep reading" option almost like a conditioned response.

Just seeing that squiggly line appear still induces a Pavlovian fear.

But that was probably a decade ago and I did a new experiment. My story about replacing my mailbox did reasonably well with a strategically clickbaity "keep reading."

This was a promising result due to the fact that some people like to send me hate for writing a lengthy post.

I recently got a death threat for writing too much, which was a fun reminder of my M&M days (I melted men's rights activists' brains with a poorly worded analogy and they launched a years long harassment campaign).

It seems in present-era-Tumblr-dot-com many more people prefer pressing an extra thing rather than scrolling a bunch on their smartphone. The collective behavior has changed. And maybe I don't need to use tricks and running gags in order to get folks to "keep reading".

Unfortunately I started writing that ring light post a few months ago so I wasn't able to include that in the experiment. But I am going to try using the keep reading function in the future and as long as the average number of folks that usually read my longer posts continue to read my posts, that will be the standard approach.

I also tag these posts with "long post" so you can flag that if you wish.

While I am no longer in the audience-building phase of my Tumblr career, these essays and stories and educational posts take a considerable amount of time and effort to create, so I do want to make sure everyone who wants to read them is able to. But posts without hearts and reblogs can quickly die a gruesome algorithmic death. Even my most ardent followers would tell me things were not showing up on their dash. (I think replies help mitigate that, so if you like a long post, you can help with engagement.)

The collective noun is a "business" of ferrets.

Do you want to see a business of ferrets ready to do some business?

KEEP READING

I love writing and it is a huge catharsis for me. And I love sharing any knowledge I feel like I have the earned expertise to speak on with authority (technology, photography, light, fun ferret facts, etc). I wish I had the energy to be a photography teacher, but long posts on Tumblr are probably the best I can do for now.

I know my posts are super long, but I try to make them as fun and informationally dense as I possibly can. I don't like wasting people's time if I can avoid it. Though maybe I should trust my follower's attention span a bit more. I have this fear that if I am not constantly entertaining, people will click away or unfollow.

I think a good business for a business of ferrets would be selling pool noodles that look like ferrets.

So as long as I get roughly the same amount of notes I will do the keep reading. And then maybe people can lay off on the mean comments and occasional requests to end my own life because I bloviated about soft light.

100% true ferret fact..

If you ask a ferret what their business is, they will crawl on your shoulder and whisper in your ear...

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING CONVERSATIONAL !!! CARLOS S. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: just two good friends having deep conversation… or just simply a heated conversation over a call.

💌 re:moony's planner request: "hi, can you write phone sex with carlos sainz?."

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, phone sex, dom!carlos x brat-ish!reader), masturbation (m and f), dirty talking, degrading + dumbification, friends with benefits type beat (with a hint of yearning), squirting, brief mentions of orgasm denial, extremely filthy i did not write this i promise.

note: my demons won today pls be proud of them. enjoy xx (also! please don't hesitate to give me your opinion or talk to me!!!)

ps: i’ve also been spending my time on character ai too much and i just subconsciously thought of being in a poly relationship with fernando and lewis… anyway… enjoy

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

she didn’t know what drove her to call him in the middle of the night. they were nothing but friends, after all. 

friends don’t usually call to check in… let alone to get off as if they hadn’t placed their labels below the expected standard (everyone could have sworn that they were dating; they both laughed at the thought while continuing to (eye) fuck each other.) 

so she had no clue why she was willing to submit to him no matter how far he was. she was willing to listen to every single thing he’d tell her.

did she want the orgasm or the attention? she wasn’t sure— but either of the reasons had something to do with him, and it was becoming worse for her yearning as she cursed beneath her breath. today had been the worst of all days for hers

she huffed quietly and got comfortable under her covers, but her exhaustion left soon enough that she became more frustrated and agitated. her frustration left her with the stupid idea of calling him. 

carlos sainz picked up at the second ring and she could practically hear his smirk through his voice as he greeted her, “shouldn’t it be past your bedtime now, bonita?” 

she rolled her eyes, “shouldn’t it be past yours?” she didn’t even think to say hi to him, instead she snarked back at him with the same amount of playfulness in her tone.

“no,” carlos hummed as he spoke with his usual deep tone, “in the hotel though. we just finished our media day duties.”

“nice,” she muttered, his voice sending signals straight to her brain as her legs involuntarily closed.

it was as if he knew what she wanted at this moment as carlos chuckled quietly, “i could get into details about what i’ve done today, but i don’t think you’re that interested in listening.”

she snapped out of her thoughts as she replied monotonously, “i’m a good listener. good friends come with good listening ears.” even carlos knew that she was lying. 

“uh huh,” carlos said as he held his phone closer. “and this good friend knows a lot about you.” 

“that right?” she taunted, feeling the tension between them rising no matter how far apart they were from each other. “what do you know then, good friend?” 

carlos scoffed, his domineering attitude getting the best of him as he smirked, “you’re getting too mouthy, princesa.” 

he nearly laughed at the sound of fabrics rustling from her side of the call, knowing that she was squirming in anticipation already. he could imagine her heart beating fast, waiting for him to make the next move as her face feigned innocence.

carlos always had the upper hand and they both knew that. they both knew who was in control and she was in no place to oppose. 

“you’re acting like this because you are so frustrated,” carlos deduced with a tut, “you’re talking back like you’d be able to handle the consequences of your attitude.”

her free hand had snaked down her nightdress as she felt her bare mound becoming more damp as she proceeded to push his buttons. she replied back, “maybe i’m just projecting my frustration onto you, carlos.”

“by acting like a brat?” carlos’ voice became more stern as he spoke lowly, “you know that begging is the best way to do that, bonita. if you wanted to release it, you should’ve asked nicer— you shouldn’t be touching yourself without permission like a fucking brat. take that pathetic hand off your pussy, princesa, i’m warning you now.” 

like an instinct, she immediately pulled her hand away from her wet cunt. she didn’t even realize that he picked up on it until she found herself writhing while she subconsciously toyed with her clit at the sound of him. 

carlos chuckled with a demeaning and teasing tone, “see? you do listen then. and i thought i’d have to deny you orgasms when i get back.” 

“carlos,” she whimpered, rubbing her thighs for friction as she listened to him laugh aloud. 

“oh, no no, bonita, you don’t get to ‘carlos’ me,” he replied with a mocking tone. “you don’t get to see me right now, bebe.”

“but i want to see you,” her lips trembled, her mind shifting away from reality to her submissive state. she continued, “i wanna see you touch yourself and your cock.”

“how badly?” he murmured sweetly. 

“so bad,” she mumbled through her phone, her pleading tone making carlos’ cock twitch as he continued to stroke himself slowly. 

carlos knew that he was torturing himself with the teasing, but he couldn’t find himself to stop as his sweet tone turned to a mocking one as he replied, “too bad.” 

he settled himself on his hotel bed as he spat on his palm and stroked his cock. he then instructed her, “go on then.” 

she seemed so lost as she asked, “what?”

carlos laughed haughtily, “don’t tell me you’re already dumb just thinking about getting your pussy fucked with my cock, princesa?” he then clicked his tongue, “touch yourself. i wanna hear you cum.” 

she wasn’t even sure anymore. she was just eager to please him and herself, her fingers gathering the wetness that oozed out of her cunt before she pressed down on her clit and moved them in circular motions. 

she bit her lip as she sighed, making carlos demand, “i wanna fucking hear you.” 

she elicited a whiny sigh as she continued to torture herself slowly. she told him, “i’m so wet.” 

“i can hear, baby,” carlos crooned, his own hand moving up and down his length before his thumb rubbed his thick tip. “i can hear your pretty pussy perfectly well.” 

“those noises that you make are making my cock throb really hard, bebe,” he muttered, earning a whimper of ‘fuck’ from the other side of the call as carlos continued, “they make me want to fly back and fuck you until you’re shaking and sore.” 

“mmm…” she cried out, feeling her hips rising to meet her rubbing fingers halfway through. “…fuck!” 

“your pussy— fuck, princesa,” carlos cursed, “it makes me want to see how fucking wet you will be the next time i fuck you everywhere in your place.”

carlos’ hand increased its pace as her breathing became rapid. carlos growled, “i want to hear you in person- i want to hear you screaming for my name because you’re a pathetic slut who’s desperate to cum all over my cock.” 

“o- oh, fuck,” she sobbed, “can i please fuck myself with my fingers? please, carlos?” she knew that she couldn’t risk not asking him to cum all over her own fingers. she was so lost that she needed his guide. 

carlos permitted her, “go on. put those two fingers inside of you, bonita. i want you to fuck yourself fast.” 

she immediately obliged, her middle and ring fingers scissoring inside her cunt as she wailed in pleasure. her fingers curled up against the sensitive spot inside of her as she uttered, “ah~ fuck~!” 

“it feels good, bonita?” carlos asked huskily as his breathing rapidly increased, stroking himself at the sounds that her squelching cunt made as she fucked herself at a pace that he wanted her to be. 

“mhm,” she nodded, not even realizing that he wasn’t there. “so good, ‘los. fuck.” 

“it’s not as good as mine, bebe,” he growled lowly, “when i get back i’m gonna be fucking that pussy of yours with something more bigger. gonna make sure you cum all over my mouth, my fingers and my cock— gonna make sure your bed’s all filthy from the mess that i’ll make of you.”

“car— los! fuck, i’m cumming,” she babbled as she pleaded, “can i please cum, carlos? please?”

“fuck, i’m cumming too, bonita,” he let out a deep groan as he demanded firmly, “cum all over your fingers, princesa. fucking cum.” 

she let out a high pitched whine, fucking herself through her orgasm as liquid trickled out of her pussy. her sheets were covered with her cum as her body shook before easing off. 

carlos came all over his stomach, groaning aloud as cum shot out of his cock.

both of them breathed heavily and rapidly, falling into silence as they gathered their thoughts and breathing. 

carlos then reached for his phone and asked, “you still there?”

“yuh huh,” she mumbled, laughing to herself before she said, “never came this much over the phone before. watching porn never worked this much either.” 

carlos chuckled, cleaning himself up as he spoke, “what can i say? i’m a miracle worker.” 

she scoffed playfully, “yeah right. okay.” 

perhaps there was a real reason why she called him in the first place. she just needed to see it for herself before realizing it. 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 18

Here it is, friends! The promised update! A massive thank you to everyone who replied to my prior post. You guys are truly the best and y'all give me the desire to finish this story.

I'll confess, this chapter is short (by my standards). I also feel like its not up to my usual quality of writing, so please give me some grace as I step back into the world of writing and remembering how to use words.

Lastly, if I missed anyone who wants to be added to the new tag list, please let me know!

Words: 3900

Warnings: Violence (both graphic and implied), swearing, Ivar still struggles with feelings

Series Masterlist

The day of reckoning had come. 

A red sun rose that morning. The locals glanced nervously at the sky and muttered under their breath at the strange sight. But Ivar knew what it meant. A blessing on this day from the old gods. 

Everything had fallen into place far more easily than he anticipated, a blessing indeed. The manipulation, the lies shared to convince the traitors to meet with him, feigned ignorance to soothe any worry of their deceptive being known. It all dripped from his lips like poisoned honey, until it was too late. Until the door was shut and a gun was pointed at their heads. Then he dropped the façade and allowed his guile to show. Only then were the traitors introduced to the truth of their failed scheme….and become close acquaintances with his knives. 

It was a day for justice.

A day for vengeance. 

And Ivar relished every moment. 

*****

Amidst the dim light leaking through the few windows into the basement, the stench of dry, stale air, piss and blood permeated. 

Two men knelt on the concrete ground before their executioner. Naked, with their clothing scattered beneath them, cut from their bodies with artful precision. Arms outstretched as in the worship, yet thick rope bound them to this position. Not as devout petitioners, but as those in bondage without even a god able to save them. 

For Armageddon had arrived, led by a blue-eyed devil with a malicious smile and blood dripping from his knives. 

Studying the one still conscious, he casually wiped the traitor's blood from his knife with a clean rag, for he refused to miss a single moment of pain or despair that was to come. 

The trial of judgment had not truly begun yet. This was only the first act. 

A vibration from his phone drew his attention away momentarily as he checked the text. A smirk adorned his face as he replaced the phone in his pocket and returned his gaze to the one before him. 

"They are here." Ivar stated, "should I wake your friend? He's been unconscious for some time now."

The traitor remained silent, his eyes staring at the gray floor, even as blood slid down his skin like raindrops. His chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, almost as if in meditation. But Ivar knew better. The man was waiting. Biding his time. Enduring the pain until the others came.

Unfortunately for him, no amount of waiting would save him from what was to come. 

Ivar glanced over to the other man on the left. Before he had even been restrained, the man had pissed himself and was begging for mercy, crying out and spewing secrets and half-truths in the futile hope for forgiveness. At the first pass of knives over his flushed skin, he fainted. 

Fucking pathetic. 

At Ivar's command, buckets of cold water had been tossed on the sniveling coward to awaken him. He would not get away from his prescribed torment. Not that easily. Twice the man fainted while receiving his medicine. And twice Ivar had him painfully revived. This third time, Ivar allowed him longer in his brief respite. But no longer. 

The day of vengeance had arrived for those who betrayed the Lothbroks, and Ivar would see they were conscious for every moment of it. 

"Wake him up." 

At Ivar's command, his white-haired driver picked up the bucket at his feet and tossed it on the unconscious man. 

The man sputtered and gagged, returning to the land of the living and the land of his torment. Immediately he began whimpering, as if that could save him. As if anything could save him now. 

The echo of footfalls on the wooden staircase sounded in the basement. 

Ivar's smile widened as he met the pained but calm eyes of the traitor kneeling before him. "Better start fucking begging for forgiveness."

Ragnar came around the corner, followed by Lagertha and Bjorn. A gasp filled the air once they came into sight. A sound of recognition. A sound of disbelief. 

“Please! I'm sorry! He made me do it!” The coward began sobbing, his whole naked body shuddering at the strength of his cries and voice. “Please! I didn't–”

“Silence!” Ragnar roared, drawing close, eyeing both men. A predator inspecting the prey. His bright eyes glared at both men, focusing most of his anger on the one known to him. “You thought you could betray me?” He crouched before them, studying them, reading them. A devilish grin grew on his lips after a moment. “How'd that go?” 

He chuckled darkly as he stepped to the side, already knowing the outcome but here to watch the show. With a quick glance to the side, he gave permission for another to step forward and to hear the case. 

The coward continued to whimper but wisely made no move to steak. A pity really, Ivar was hoping to cut out his tongue. 

"Kalf?" Lagertha asked, coming closer. The initial look of shock faded away, leaving behind confusion and anger. A deadly combination. 

"Lagertha, there's been a misunder-" Kalf started to say but cried out in pain after Ivar hit him on the side of his head with his wolf's head cane. 

Ivar returned the cane to his side, leaning back in his plastic chair casually. "Tsk tsk. You do not speak unless spoken to." He shifted his gaze to his father's first wife. “All the evidence is on the table over there.” 

Lagertha followed the nod of Ivar's head, looking towards a table pressed against the wall. On it were stacks of papers, all the threads from the web of betrayal, cut and laid out to prove his betrayal. Every string, every conversation, every transaction, every knot in the thread. The damning evidence Ivar had been gathering for months. All there in black and white. 

With a resigned sigh, Lagertha glanced down to Ivar. “I believe you.”

Ivar nodded silently, shifting the cane from his left hand to his right, still encased in the damn cast. He had never liked Lagertha and she had never liked him. They tolerated one another but that was the extent, prefering to avoid one another's company in casual or public settings. Except when it came to business. There was an unspoken respect they harbored for one another in this one regard; and for her to take Ivar's word alone on this matter, furthered his respect for her. 

He did notice that Bjorn walked over and started leafing through the papers. Maybe his eldest brother was finally learning to use his half-wit brain. 

The fierce businesswoman moved to stand in front of her lover, seemingly uncaring of the splatters of blood and shredded clothing under her heeled boots. “Why?”

He opened his mouth, eyes full of hurt and hope, but before any sounds escaped, she cut him off. 

“Do not lie to me, Kalf.” She practically snarled, a she-wolf rising in fury, with no sight of a heartbroken lover. 

He gazed at her, tone beseeching. “I did it for us.”

Her hand moved so fast that even Ivar did not catch it until the loud sound of a smack echoed in the basement, followed by Kalf's grunt as his head jerked to the side. 

“If you did it for us, you would have included me in your schemes.”

Kalf worked his jaw before returning his gaze to his lover. “I planned on it, but–” 

Another smack reverberated in the air. 

“Try again.” Lagertha spat out. 

Ivar could see it. The moment Kalf's pretense swiftly crumbled. His face hardened, eyes switching from a hopeful innocence to angry slits. His body tensed as if preparing to fight back, to finally show some spine and no longer take the abuse. 

“I knew we could run the organization better. Make more money and be unstoppable. But I knew…I fucking knew you'd never leave Ragnar. You'd never leave his side because you'll always be his side bitch. So I did what I had to.” Kalf grinned but there was no humor. Blood darkened his teeth, giving him a monstrous look. “Does that make you feel better, baby? I'd have given you everything but you'll always run back to Ragnar. You never stopped loving him, you just got better at hiding it. What a fucking waste. I would have made you a queen!” 

Lagertha yanked out a pistol from the holster on her thigh and aimed it at Kalf's head. Hand steady. Lips in a thin line. Eyes focused on him. A she-wolf ready for the kill. 

Kalf chuckled darkly. “You won't do it, my love. You don't like getting your hands dirty.”

Ivar waited to see the outcome. Ragnar already commanded that Lagertha was to choose Kalf's fate. A fucking waste in Ivar's opinion but he relented. Hopefully he would be given the other one, an example needed to be made. Although the other man was only the accountant to scrub the books and try to hide the betrayal, not the mastermind that Kalf was, he was still involved. That was enough to earn his death. Preferably at Ivar's hands. 

But Kalf's death would be decided by Lagertha. 

Ragnar and Bjorn watched from the sidelines, witnesses to the impending justice against their organization and family. Holding a paper in each hand, fury coated Bjorn's face, understanding of the undermining that had been allowed to run rampant for too long, especially by one he trusted. With arms crossed and an impassive expression, Ragnar watched on. When Ivar caught his eye, he received a nod but returned his gaze to the show, waiting for his ex wife to make a decision. All the papers and what they represented were already reviewed by Ragnar as Ivar discovered the treachery.  

After a long tense moment, a gun shot rang out. Almost deafening in the small basement. Yet no one flinched. The sound as familiar as birdsong for those still breathing. 

Surprise and pleasure flooded through Ivar as the coward's head lolled loosely, brains blown out and splattered on the wall and floor. Payment for his crime painted for all to see.

Kalf jerked his head to look at his accomplice and then back to his lover, confusion and shock in the lines of his face.  

“You shouldn't have dragged Philippe into your mess.” Lagertha calmly said, replacing her pistol at her thigh. “Ivar, he's all yours. Do with him what you want.” She took a step back. “Good bye, Kalf.” Then with the poise of a queen, she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, washing her hands of her former lover and his demise. 

In the next moment, a hand landed on Ivar's shoulder. “Good work.” His father commended. He gave him one more fatherly pat before following Lagertha up the stairs. 

Ivar grimaced as he knew his father was following his first wife to help her blow off some steam. Something that happened but no one spoke of. 

A different set of footsteps came to his other side. As Ivar looked up at his eldest brother, a grimace on his own face at his parents, echoed Ivar's own sentiments. With a shake of his head, Bjorn looked down at Kalf who had gone suspiciously silent and still. 

“I thought she would shoot you…guess she thought that was too fucking easy for you.”

Kalf spat out a bloody mess towards Bjorn's leather shoes, eyes blazing and fresh blood trickled down his chin. 

“Have fun with that one.” Bjorn said. “And try to keep your cast clean. Fuck, you'll never get all that blood out.”

“I'll get a new fucking one. Fucking hell.”

“Fine.” Bjorn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What are you going to do with him?”

Ivar shrugged, examining the man like a piece of marble waiting to be sculpted. “Cut off each of his own fingers and make him eat them?”

“That's disgusting.” Bjorn shuddered. “Don't take too long. We need you in Spain. We got a call on the way here.”

“What happened?” 

“I'll fill you in after your fun, but it sounds like you'll be there a few days.”

“Okay.”

The eldest Lothbrok son opened his mouth for a moment, then stopped to lick his lips before starting quietly again. “Have you…have you heard from her yet?”

There was only one her that Bjorn could possibly be referring to and it made Ivar's blood boil even as his heart shattered. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Ivar seethed, fingering the head of his cane, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he broke Bjorn's shins by striking him.

As if sensing the impending violence, Bjorn backed away. “Call me when you're done here.”

Ivar grunted, still beyond pissed his brother would bring her up right now. 

“You know…my mom mentioned that Kalf had an almost irrational fear of fire.” 

At Bjorn's lazy comment, Kalf's head lifted to stare at Ivar, face blanched and eyes wide with panic. 

A truly ferocious grin appeared on the youngest Lothbrok's face at the pure terror radiating from the man before him. Even when his flesh had been pierced with Ivar's knives, beaten with Ivar's cane, the man had endured without fear. Oh, but the sweet scent of terror that radiated off him now…

Ivar barely heard Bjorn's retreating footsteps up the stairs. He turned to look at his driver, his long white hair tied back, highlighting his cruel scar on the side of his face. 

“Toss me your lighter.”

Pleas for mercy tainted the air, but not for long.

*********

As he stepped out of the elevator, it took all of his mental capability to keep his feet moving purposefully and his gait steady. His eyes were gritty and dry from lack of sleep, his body threatened to revolt against his restless mind and collapse in desperate need of rest. He refused to acknowledge it, propelling himself forward. After this one last meeting, he would allow himself to give in and seek the rest his body so desperately needed. 

Ignoring those scurrying around, he passed the several offices on the top floor of Ragnarssons Trading. The scowl he wore must have been fearsome for how quickly it made those plebeians scatter out of his way. Wise on their part. He was in no mood for empathy or kindness, traits he was not commonly known for anyway. He just wanted to fucking sleep. The temptation to stab anyone who tried to stop him was exceptionally high. 

“You live!” 

“Fuck off.” Ivar grumbled, more out of habit than true ill intent. Well, if he tried to stop him, there may be some violence. 

Falling into step with him, Hvitserk looked smart in his gray suit, a clear contrast from Ivar's own rumpled jeans with t-shirt and leather jacket. “How was Spain? No, wait, you were just in Morocco. Or was it Turkey again?” 

“India.”

“Hmm…What I heard, you've spent more time in dungeons and airplanes than in a bed. Those bags under your eyes make you look like a zombie. Ah hell, when did you last sleep?”

Ivar grunted, annoyed with his brother's ceaseless chatter and the reminder of his lack of self-care. “Father in his office?”

“I think so. I was about to go for a late lunch. Want me to wait for you?”

“No, I'd probably fall asleep before the food came.”

Hvitserk chuckled but did not dispute the claim. 

The pair arrived at the door for Ragnar's office. With a quick knock on the wood and a following ‘enter’, Hvitserk opened the door for them. 

Ragnar sat at his large desk, an organized chaos to all the things upon it. Scattered papers and files resided in piles, along with a cheap, tourist paper map of Stockholm spread out and a bronzed human skull which Ragnar refused to admit if it was real or not. Ivar had always bet it was real. 

Torstein also occupied the room, standing behind the desk beside Ragnar, pointing at the laptop screen open in front of them. They must have been continuing speaking of logistics for a particular expansion of goods into Stockholm. 

At their entrance, Ragnar kept his gaze on the screen while addressing him. “I thought you were coming in tomorrow?”

“I can just as easily report today.” Ivar ungraciously plopped into one of the leather chairs in front of Ragnar's desk. He winced at the impact and the sharp pain shooting down his legs. With more care, he set his right hand, still in the cast, on the arm rest. 

At Ivar's audible pained inhale, Ragnar aimed his piercing gaze at his youngest son. “You look like shit.”

Ivar snorted. “The devil doesn't sleep and neither do I.”

That made Ragnar smirk and Torstein chuckle. From the other seat beside him, Ivar could feel Hvitserk's eye roll. Everyone knew that Ivar had been running himself ragged, anything to keep himself busy, which usually involved his face glued to a computer or phone screen or blood on his hands. Ever since Kalf's fall from grace and his fiery demise, Ivar had been cauterizing the wound left in the company…and reminding people what happened when they placed themselves on the Lothbrok's bad side. 

“Suit yourself. Tor, finish this and I'll make a phone call–” Ragnar spoke to his friend but Ivar tuned him out. 

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest as he waited. His father was not wrong. He felt like shit. Then again, he had felt like shit for the past three weeks now, ever since Kari had told him she needed space. So he focused on what he could do for the family business. Anything to distract himself from what his heart yearned for. During this time, he learned it was easier to feel physically shitty and move on. It was much harder to ignore and move on when his heart was fractured and bleeding her name. 

Eyes closed, his mind began to drift lazily like an autumn leaf, thoughts moving at a sluggish pace due to his exhaustion. He had tried to sleep in his car on the way here from the airport but sleep eluded him- still too wound up from the flight, too many cigarettes and too much caffeine. The trifecta of sleep deprivation. He never slept on planes, even on private planes, he could never relax enough. Especially when they flew over open water. 

A buzzing from his pocket jerked him out of his almost meditative state. Without opening his eyes, he dug around in his pocket and pulled his personal phone out. Only a few people had his private number, preferring to direct most of his calls to his work phone, which lay silent in his other pocket. 

“‘eah?” He mumbled amidst a sudden yawn. 

A hesitant but professional male voice spoke. “Mr Lothbrok?” 

“Huh?”

“Is this–ah, is this Ivar Lothbrok?”

His brain awoke on full alert at the implementation that a stranger had his personal number. “Who the fuck are you?” Those sluggish thoughts went into overdrive, trying to recognize the voice or how this fucker got a hold of his number. 

“I'm Nurse Olsen, calling from the General Hospital. A patient we have gave us your name and number as an emergency contact. My apologies for bothering you, we just needed to verify. Do you know a Kari Larsen?”

What racing thoughts died a spectacular death by crashing into a wall of shock and disbelief. 

Someone was calling him about Kari. 

As an emergency contact. 

From a hospital. 

Where she is a patient. 

A PATIENT!

In a strange form of whiplash, his brain went from a screeching halt in shock to overdrive of all the reasons she could possibly be in the hospital, each scenario worse than its predecessor. “Is she hurt?” He wheezed out, as his heart and lungs threatened to be strangled with the sudden fear that exploded within him. 

“Sir, I'm not allowed to discuss patients’ wellbeings over the phone–”

“IS SHE HURT?!” He screamed, the building panic in his chest rising higher and higher, suffocating him. 

His mind easily conjured her laying in a hospital bed, nurses and doctors swarming her like parasites, sticking tubes in her, cleaning up her precious blood, all in an attempt to save her. She laid there unconscious to her precarious position. Or maybe she was screaming for him. That was how they got his number. She needed him as she lay dying. 

He drew a ragged breath but it failed to relieve the painful pressure in his chest. Gods, if she died….he promised. He promised to take care of her. 

A new level of loathing sunk its claws into him, a demon from the darkest pits burrowed into his mind, taunting, tormenting. 

He had promised. 

And he failed. 

Again. 

“Mr Lothbrok, are you able to come to the hospital?” The nurse sighed before speaking again. 

“Yes.” He croaked out. 

“Excellent, what you can do is park–”

But the nurse's explanation was cut off as Ivar ended the call. 

Ivar stumbled to his feet, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady himself. The floor beneath him shifted and rolled like waves. Or maybe it was the demon cackling in his ears, messing with his equilibrium. Spots danced in his vision but he ignored them, pushing past. He had to get to her. He had to see her. Was his heart even beating anymore? His chest burned, each breath a struggle to take. As he tried to slip his phone back into his pocket, he realized his hands were shaking. Or was it his whole body?  

What exhaustion previously had taken root was brutally ripped out and replaced with a buzzing, paralyzing panic. 

“Ivar? What happened?” Hvitserk's voice broke through. His hands grabbed his younger brother's shoulders, saving him from falling in his unstable haste to move. “Ivar?!”

“I–I have to go to the hospital.” Tears welled in his eyes, that terror and panic finally having risen to his mind, strangling his rationality, constricting his thoughts until all he could think of was Kari and he failed. 

“What happened? Oh shit. Is…was that about Kari?” Hvitserk's eyes widened in horror. 

“She's there.” Ivar gasped, weakly pushing his brother aside, hands still shaking. ”She's there right now. I have to go– fuck, I've got to see her.” 

Stumbling, forcing himself faster than his crippled legs would allow, to escape the way his chest was collapsing even as he fought for breath, fought for each step. He had to see her. There was no other option. 

She had to be okay. His kitten. He refused. He fucking refused to believe she was dying, even as his mind continued to create horrific scenes. 

This was not how he wanted to be reunited with her. 

Hvitserk grabbed his arm, steadying his erratic pace. “I'm coming with you.”

Gratitude swelled within Ivar but the panic clogging his throat refused to let the words pass. 

The two rushed into the hallway, as fast as Ivar's crippled legs would allow. Hvitserk already had his phone out, calling Ivar's driver to have his car ready at the front for them. At the pounding footfalls behind them, Ivar glanced over his shoulder to see Ragnar following like an intimidating guardian angel. 

Ragnar snarked. “Hurry your ass up or I'll carry you on my back like when you were a boy.”

“You're too fragile, old man.” Ivar managed to retort. 

“Shut the fuck up, you little asshole, and let's go get your girl.”

As the three of them hurried out of the building, the same thought swirled like a growing storm in his mind. 

Hold on, Kari, I'm coming. Just please hold on. 

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got

[dcartcorner]

the old men have my brain cell and are holding it hostage. couldn't sleep and so decided to write another little thing. standard disclaimer that writing is not my forte, i just really enjoy these character. sorry if there any mistakes! gonna post on ao3 later.

A Business Proposal Characters: Simon Fairchild, Peter Lukas Ship: FoggySkies Warnings: none

Peter did not know what part of him expected Simon to be punctual. 

That was just how Simon was - in with the tide and gone with the wind, but with no rhyme nor reason to his comings and goings other than his own fancy, which itself could change on a whim.

Peter sighed, neither happy nor angry. Simply resigned to the fact that he was there and Simon was not. In many ways, that was preferable.

The Tundra was docked at Porto do Itaqui, the bar in São Luís was busier than it had been earlier - when that person came in, looking for work. Or perhaps it had always been that busy, and Peter hadn’t noticed. Hadn’t cared to notice. Whatever the case, he was aware of it now, the heat and the bodies, and his wishing for morning to come quicker so that he might be out on the sea once more.

But of course the blasted man was late to his own meeting, leaving Peter there, waiting.

Ten  more minutes, he promised himself, finishing the mug of coffee in front of him. Ten more minutes, and he’d leave, and return to the Tundra.

An hour later, Simon stumbled into the bar. He looked… windswept, which was very much like him, Peter reflected. Simon spotted Peter and his smile widened, and as light on his feet as ever, he made his way through the crowd.

“You’re late,” Peter made a point of telling him. 

“Yes. Terribly sorry,” Simon replied as he pulled out a chair next to the captain and sat himself down in a careless motion, crossing one leg over the other and leaning closer to Peter. Though not too close - never too close. He seemed to know, Peter thought. Seemed to recognize that there was an invisible barrier there, separating Peter from him, and it was always up for Peter to decide whether or not to cross it. “Got swept up in something. Have you ever been parasailing? There was this lovely couple from… Hmm. Honestly, I can’t remember! Well, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, so there I was, enjoying a nice day out on the beach, and I overheard…”

And so Simon spoke. And Peter didn’t listen, not really. That was how it was, a lot of the time. Simon spoke at such length, so frequently, that oftentimes Peter found himself drifting off into a comfortable fog, nodding along without really taking anything in. It was something… he was trying to get better at. He picked up little things, here and there - heard the delight in Simon’s voice when he told Peter of that poor couple’s fate. He found himself thinking about what it might be like - to be up there, all alone, with nothing but clouds and the whole of humanity laid out before him. Distant specks of civilization, and him entirely apart from it. It would be nice, he thought. And, as he contemplated that wonderful loneliness, courtesy of the Falling Titan, Simon continued to speak. And Peter continued to nod absentmindedly, losing himself in the motion of it.

He was not sure when the drink appeared in front of him, only that it was there when he blinked and dragged himself back into the moment. How much time had passed? He did not know, but turning his eyes towards Simon, found the other man had, at some point, stopped speaking. He was leaning against the table now, scanning the crowd, a comfortable smile in its usual place. Peter picked up the drink, glancing at the two in front of Simon.

It was nice. 

The drink and… Simon’s company. It was a thought that prickled not entirely unpleasantly at a spot near the back of his skull, against his urge to isolate. Simon never tried to make anything more out of them than what they were. His mind was… drawn towards the bigger picture, and Peter knew that he himself did not fit into it. That no one did. And that itself, he thought, was quite isolating indeed. He smiled into the drink as he took another sip. 

His movement caused Simon to look over at him. There was red in his cheeks, though Peter could not have said if it was from the drink or the day out in the sun, under the sky. 

“Why did you want to meet, anyway?” Peter asked. 

If he could have seen Simon’s eyes behind the dark glasses that covered them, he would have seen the way that they lit up like they did when he was scheming - plotting something that Peter knew would cost a small fortune. Simon Fairchild never did anything understated. Like everything else, money did not matter to him. 

Simon turned in his seat, tucking one leg under the other as he clapped his hands together mischievously. “I’ve had a thought. An idea. For a  business venture. One I thought might interest you.” Peter said nothing and allowed Simon to go on, explaining. 

About the island - best place for cage diving off the coast of Mexico. The only way to get to it was to charter a boat overnight. Simon explained it. The possibilities. Offering an exclusive experience to some unsuspecting soul. And perhaps said soul would find itself stranded on that charter, all alone, for a day or two, caught in an unlikely sea fog. Perhaps when it came time to go down, down, into the depths to see the great beasts, there would be nothing but emptiness below, and the distant rays of sunlight forgotten above. 

By the time Simon had finished the proposal, Peter found himself hungry. He would admit… it did sound… fun. Or, at the very least, not a colossal waste of time and money, as were so many of Simon’s schemes. He pointedly avoided thinking about the Daedalus by very much thinking about the Daedalus. Though he supposed that was, in large part, Rayner’s influence.

The thought of Rayner… twisted up in him uncomfortably. He ignored whatever that feeling might have been, but could not stop himself asking, “And will Rayner be a part of this one as well?”

Simon shook his head breezily. “No, no,” he assured Peter. If Simon thought anything of the question, there was no hint of it in his voice. He moved as swiftly on from the question as he did everything else. “I can see to the particulars of it all. All you’d have to do is show up.”

Peter hummed in approval of both statements. “Fine,” he agreed.

“Wonderful!” Simon’s smile broadened as he lifted his drink. “Here’s to us, then, and to the enterprise,” he said.

Peter clinked his glass carefully against Simon’s, and they drank. Two more rounds, and Peter let the silence between the two of them breathe. Lengthen. Let himself slip away from it all. 

The bar had only become more crowded as the night went on and was beginning to press on him by the time someone approached their table. A young sort, with two drinks in hand. Peter did not hear what he said to Simon as he put one of the drinks down on the table, and leaned in, looming over Simon. 

That same twisting feeling yanked this way and that inside of his chest. Peter didn’t like the man’s smile. Nor the way Simon rested his elbow on the table and played along, the way he put his hand gently down on the stranger’s and laughed at something the stranger said. 

“Do you need something?” Peter asked suddenly. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel the way Simon’s gaze slid over to him with a tilt of his head.

The young man turned towards him, eyes widening as if in surprise to find someone else at that table. He stammered out an apology - he didn’t realize, he didn’t see that… sorry, he didn’t think that anyone else was…

Peter’s smile was cold. “We all make mistakes,” he told the stranger. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to reflect on it.”

And then the stranger was gone.

Simon chuckled lightheartedly though Peter didn’t quite understand the humour of it. He stood from the table and grabbed Simon’s wrist, and yanked him up out of the chair and began to haul him towards the door. That twisting feeling began to dissipate as they stepped out into the night and to an empty street - one that should have been buzzing with a late night crowd. Towards the docks through the sudden fog. Simon simply hummed compliantly. It sounded pleased, Peter thought. Towards the docks, towards the shape of the Tundra that towered over them. Up the gangway. By the time they reached the cabin, there was nothing left of the twisting.

When he woke the next morning to prepare to leave port, the bed next to him was empty. Unlike Simon to be up so early, Peter observed, but under such circumstances, that could be expected. He must be excited about this venture of his. Of theirs. The sheets were rumpled and the pillow still harboured the ghost indentation of the head that had rested there. He pulled himself out of bed to get ready.

As he made his way to the coffee machine, he found a pot already brewed, a mug waiting next to it. Peter smiled, and poured himself a cup.

[devondespresso]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @museumgiftshoperaser

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

technically 2, but its a sfw and nsfw version of the same fic fhajklfjdalfjk

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

...6,357. i promise i write.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

just stranger things so far, but i have seriously thought about writing about Fender's gender from Robots (2005) and I promised my friend a Shark Tale fic for their birthday fjalhfdjkalfdj

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Never Again

Never Again (sfw)

fascinating statistics arent they

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

never gotten comments on ao3, i do reply to what i get on tumblr tho because it literally makes my day

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

(including my unposted work) Never Again, tho i think its more bittersweet than unrelenting angst

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

tho its technically not finished, We'll Be Alright (Steve Henderson AU) has a very happy ending

8. Do you get hate on fics?

no, thank god

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

im gonna say no? despite writing something spicy at the beginning of Never Again it was not a good time (for me or Nancy)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

haven't yet, and while i wont write them off entirely itd have to have really strong potential for me to want to do it

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

no

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

no, and i dont know how well id go. on the one hand im usually good at group stuff but im also an annoying perfectionist with my writing

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

platonically stobin 100%. i dont get nearly as attatched to the romantic ones so i kinda just bounce around the fandom. Really love a lot of the steve harrington rairpairs floating around, plus robin and vickie

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I dont realllly have a writing wip i know i wont finish cause i've just been posting those vague ideas instead of actually writing them becuase i know i wont. My only active wip is the steve henderson au and im hoping praying to god that i dont suddenly loose passion for it

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue probably, coming up with how different characters are saying things, what theyre saying, what they mean, all the little differences in their voices, I love it. that and having characters interact with the environment

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

overthinking and underthinking, stopping myself from making something happen or a character do something because theres this pull in my chest telling me its wrong. even just standard selfishness or saying something without the express intent of making sure it wont hurt someones feelings. i also start sentences with verbs djaldjdjaf

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

makes sense if characters are speaking multiple languages i guess. depends on pov and how limited it is to the pov character. like if the pov character doesnt speak spanish it'd be better to write "and they said something in spanish they didnt understand" instead of writing the spanish out assuming the audience doesnt know it either

19. First fandom you wrote for?

stranger things

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

definitely my steve henderson au. i wish it was shared already but at the same time i've editied and changed so much im glad i havnt officially yet. its helped me work through a lot and has even caused noticable improvement in my relationship with my family even if they dont know it exists. i cant promise itll be fully posted soon, but i am so exited for when i do

tagging @stobinesque @marvel-ous-m @eriquin @itsthestrangestthings @findafight @fag4dykestobin (no pressure ofc 💕)

[viscountessevie]

how you seen alergy wedding and lack of kathony ☠️☠️

Oh how I've missed asks but also need to reply to everyone from way back then. But baby steps we'll do this one tonight and I'll take on the old ones tomorrow!

Hi anon, thanks for the ask! Yeah so I was unwittingly following S3's production for a bit (thanks Twitter moots posting all over my TL). Honestly after a while, it just made me angry because my bar in hell about barely any Kathony in it and Allergy getting everything was turning out to be right. So I stopped paying attention for my sanity.

However, from a film graduate perspective and as someone who was trained as a producer, I will say it's VERY interesting for me to watch this car crash of a season production. Especially with them reshooting from the start - I may be wrong but this is the second time I've seen many scenes being filmed AGAIN when they were initially filmed months ago.

Sorry Anon I kind of got off track about how S3 is a money pit now and how there might not be an S4! Under the cut:

Anyways reshooting costs money, I mean we all can draw this conclusion. However with Bton's scale, each day is costing them AT LEAST an amount in the HIGH Thousands. So at this point, S3 is a money pit. It has definitely gone over budget and I will not be surprised if this eats into their S4 budget. Due to this, Netflix could potentially rescind S4's renewal.

The viewing numbers will be worse by the time the show rolls out. This is genuine biasness aside, numbers WILL drop because of Netflix's new password sharing rules. There will NO longer be the 80 million viewers/accounts by the time S3 comes out. Everyone is cancelling their accounts left and right. So the official numbers will dwindle and won't be up to the Bridgerton Standard - which is still more views than the usual shows but it may not be good enough for the Netflix executives.

Honestly after how Bton's production has shown itself to be completely unprofessional, it needs to die.

From the way they've treated their stars of colour (and it's telling how multiple cast members keep leaving), trash talking their characters of colour (see: The EPs like Tom Verica, Betsy Beers, Shonda talking about Kate and even Marina's writing) to showing blatant favouritism towards white leads while still championing itself as a "diverse ensemble show". And of course not to mention day drinking on set with heavy equipment (I have more to say on this but it's neither here nor there but feel free to ask in a follow up!)

If S4 is Philoise rumours are true, I do hope Netflix yanks back it's renewal. To be completely honest: no one else, other than the small group of yt fans, want to see two back to back white couples. The fact is most of the GA and a large portion of the fans within the fandom are people of colour who tuned in to see the diverse casting and characters of colour. The show was built on the promise of diversity. To have them negate on it now, is just very disappointing and not what a big portion of us signed up for.

Now with so many more other diversity shows (I'm BEGGING yall to go watch Mr. Malcolm's List, Sandition and these two recced by Michaela @minim236 : Tom Jones and The Confessions of Frannie Langton), people are obviously going to gravitate to these shows. Ones that are made with heart with good storytelling, treat their stars and characters with respect and are just fun to watch!

I am getting off the Bridgerton train and definitely won't be watching S3 (maybe a Kathony cut online).

I will say, if yall can let Kathony go slowly like I did, jump ship and explore other shows/books similar to Kathony because this show will continue punishing us for liking them. They do not care about what the viewers want at all which is a shame, because these are the people they are ultimately profiting off.

After expanding my HR book tastes and finding new shows like the ones listed above, I've found there is so so much out there. Feel free to hit me up for recs (I will warn you it's limited variety rn) and also you can scroll through @hptriviachamp and @mermaidsirennikita's blogs for HR recs as well shoot them, @jeanvanjer and Michaela (linked above) asks!

[purrvaire]

First, thank you for the tag and sorry for the delay🙈 I’m gonna post mine soon!

For the wip tag, I don’t know if you’ve been asked about it already but… Any snippet/info on obi wan is clearly galahad in this one? 🌚

Hello <3 OF COURSE so basically it's the kingsman au i've been writing since march!! idk if you're familiar with the movies but basically Kingsman is a spy agency whose agents have the knights of the round table’s namees as codenames; Obi-Wan is Galahad (Colin Firth in the movie) and Anakin is his protegé (Taron Egerton in the movie)👀 I've already written around 17k words, which is a lot for my standard, but you know * waves hand * life, so it's still a work in progress sigh

Anyway, a snippet for you <3 it’s set while Anakin is training, featuring Ahsoka (his baby sister bc im very soft for that trope), briefly Mace Windu/Merlin, already 100% done with the gays AND a lot of flirting bc I can’t help myself lmao

“She’s a charmer, innit?” he praises. “Hey, I’ve just picked my puppy, actually. Wanna meet him?”

It turns out that the pup is a pug. 

“Interesting choice”, Obi-Wan offers tactfully, watching the tiny thing yapping excitedly at Ahsoka and wagging its tail. 

Anakin groans. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of me all you want.” He nudges him with his shoulder. “Look, I didn’t know he would stay this small forever, okay? ‘Sides, I think he’s alright.”

“Can we call him Artoo?” demands Ahsoka. “Mr. Threepio likes it.” 

As she speaks, the newly named Artoo gives an experimental lick to the plushie. 

“Well, it seems they made friends already.” Anakin shakes his head. “This girl, bruv,” he says fondly. “So, I thought big spies like you don’t have time to stop by.”

“I said I would see you around, didn’t I?” Obi-Wan replies immediately with a smirk. “I like to keep my promises.”

Anakin ducks his head a little, a hint of a smile on his face. 

“I do have a mission, actually. I reckon I won’t be long, but I wanted to see you first, see how it’s going.”

Anakin smiles. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout me, Obi-Wan. Yesterday was mental, but it’s part of the job, innit?” He shrugs. “Better get used to it.”

Obi-Wan nods. “Still, it’s a big adjustment.”

“Been through worse”, Anakin quips. “Anyway, you better come back in one piece from your mission, hear me?” The boy steps further in his personal space, patting him on the chest. 

From up close, their height difference is even more evident; Obi-Wan doesn’t mind it. It makes it easier to spot every single change in Anakin’s expression. 

“Is that an order?” Obi-Wan smirks playfully. “May I remind you who’s in charge here?” 

Anakin blushes prettily. Obi-Wan shouldn’t enjoy it so much, but he can’t help it. It’s too easy to fluster him. 

“I know that”, he replies, his voice just a tad higher than usual. Anakin darts his eyes to the side, almost coy. “Would be a real bummer if you didn’t come around anymore.”

“Cheeky”, Obi-Wan murmurs, glancing up at him. 

Anakin, still a bit red on his face, holds his gaze. 

“If you’re quite finished flirting,” suddenly Mace’s voice crackles in his earpieces. Obi-Wan does not startle, thank you very much, but he leans back a little from where he was basically plastered to Anakin. 

"Merlin", he says out loud for the other's benefit. "What is it?"

Obi-Wan can't see Mace but he can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. "May I remind you that you're on the clock?"

"Yes, thank you." Obi-Wan looks at Anakin who's more than a little perplexed. "Duty calls."

Anakin nods. “Good luck, Obi-Wan.” 

He retreats toward his sister, who waves at him with a toothy smile. 

“And you with your training. I’ll see you when I’m back.”

[onlyfreds]

So Much for Secrecy | F.W.

Title: So Much for Secrecy

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: When Fred starts sending letters that weren't up to his usual standards - you start to get worried.

“Are you sure you can’t stay over at the Burrow for the summer?” Fred pouted, holding on to you as tightly as he could without suffocating you

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as you gave him a smile, “I already told you. We’re going to our summer house since this is the first time my sister’s been home since she went off to college. I’ll write to you everyday and I’ll be able to head to the Burrow two weeks before school starts.”

“Fine.” He huffed, pecking your lips, “You better write to me everyday.”

“I promise.” You said, still smiling up at him.

“C’mon Fred! You’re just parting for the summer! You’re not a soldier going into war.” George called out from the spot where he and the rest of the Weasley family were waiting.

Fred rolled his eyes at his twin, causing you to laugh.

“Go! Your family is waiting.”

“They can wait a little bit longer.” He muttered, bending down to connect your lips in a brief kiss.

“Oi lover boy! Hurry up!” George’s call came again.

“Coming!” Fred said, littering kisses all over your face before he made his way to his family,

“Bye! Write to me everyday! I love you!”

You laughed, waving at him, “Yes, I promise that I’ll write everyday! I love you too!”

–

That was two weeks ago. And you had kept your promise to your boyfriend that you would write to him everyday.

“Writing to your boyfriend, again?” Your sister mused, peeking over your shoulder.

“Yeah.” You said, not looking up from your letter, “Why?”

Y/S/N shrugged, “You just wrote him a letter yesterday, and the day before that.”

“So?”

“So? Normally when my boyfriend and I exchange love letters its either on a special occasion or a weekly basis.”

“Well, my relationship is different from yours.” You said, sealing the letter in an envelope.

“Good point.” Y/S/N agreed, “But, why everyday?”

You smiled, remembering the little exchange before you temporarily parted ways with your respective families.

“Fred is clingy, in a good way. He’s just adorable when he’s clingy. He even told me once that if there ever passes a day that he doesn’t get to see even just a glimpse of me - then his day isn’t complete. So, he made me promise - three times if I may mention - that I would write to him everyday so that ‘he doesn’t miss me as much’.”

“Why didn’t you bring him over?” Your sister said, giving you a look, “I would’ve loved to meet him!”

You smiled at her, “I won’t make any promises - but, maybe next year.”

“I’ll take that then.” She teased.

–

A day later, you had received a letter from Fred.

Opening it, you found it quite odd that the letter was short and vague (compared to the novel-like letters he’s been sending you for the past two weeks).

Hey love,

I miss you terribly. (George just smacked me on the back of the head and said that I whine about it everyday).

Okay, maybe I do.

Anyway, we just played a little Quidditch today - George teases that my team won just because you weren’t here to distract me. But, what can I say? You’re a wonderful distraction.

I hope you’re having a wonderful day princess. Write to you again soon! I love you!

Lots of love from your dearest boyfriend,

Freddie

Nevertheless, the letter was still sweet and maybe Fred was just busy that day.

Grabbing your quill and some parchment, you penned out your letter in reply.

“Isn’t someone lovesick?” Your sister cooed, noticing the dopey smile on your lips that never seemed to waver since reading your boyfriend’s letter.

You poked your tongue out at her, “Oh, sod off.”

–

Fred’s letters were getting more and more vague with each passing week.

For the first few, you just brushed it off, thinking that he was just busy - Molly did keep everyone from getting bored at the Burrow.

“And you don’t think that it’s weird?” Your sister said once you accidentally let slip your little “observation”

You shrugged in reply, “Maybe he’s just busy?”

“You don’t sound so sure.” Y/S/N noted, “But, in all honesty Y/N, I read some of Fred’s letters to you and from what I can tell - he’s never busy when it comes to you. I haven’t met him yet - but in every word that he writes in his letters, I can feel just how much he loves you.”

“I don’t know.” You hesitated, “Maybe his mum is keeping him busy?”

Your sister gave you a look, “Believe me, from what I’ve read - I can see that Fred would drop everything just for you.”

–

The vague letters continued on for the next week.

You decided that you would ask your boyfriend what was wrong. But, after you’ve taken a shower.

You and your sister decided to take a little swim, so you wanted to freshen up a bit.

Once you’ve dried your hair and wrapped the towel around your body, you opened the door that connected your bathroom to your bedroom and stepped out.

But, you almost jumped out of your skin as you saw someone sitting on your bed, recognizing the ginger hair and the familiar smile - you knew just exactly who it was.

“Godric Fred!” You scolded your boyfriend, hitting him on the shoulder as he started to laugh, “It’s not funny!”

“Why not?” He asked with a cheeky grin.

“I literally just got out of the shower, Freddie.” You deadpanned.

“So?” He said, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

You felt your cheeks flush as you smacked his arm again, “Fred!”

“Sis? Are you alright in there?” Y/S/N’s voice came from the other side of your bedroom door.

“Yes!” You immediately reply, covering your boyfriend’s mouth with your hand, “Fine, just thought I saw a spider.”

“Really?” Your sister said, a teasing tone starting to lace her voice, “And the spider’s name just happens to be the name of your boyfriend?”

You could’ve sworn that your cheeks just got redder.

“What?” Your sister laughed, noting your silence, “He just appeared at our doorstep. Who do you think let him in your room?”

“You could’ve at least had him stay in the living room and wait until I had some clothes on and somehow looked decent.” You said.

“So? How was I supposed to know that you were in the shower? Besides, like Fred said, it isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before.” Y/S/N countered.

“See?” Fred said, poking his tongue out at you.

You pulled Fred up by his arm, the other hand making sure that the towel didn’t fall off you as you opened the door to reveal your sister and pushed your boyfriend, “Out. Now, stay in the living room and wait for me to put one some clothes.”

Before your boyfriend could protest, you shut the door.

–

Once you looked pretty decent, you went down to the living room where you saw your sister in the kitchen and your boyfriend waiting on the couch.

You sat down next to your boyfriend, giving him a smile, “Hey.”

Fred leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek, “Hey beautiful.”

“So, what brings you here?” You asked, “Missed me too much?”

“Kind off.” He admitted, “But, unfortunately, that’s not why I’m here.’

“Why are you here then?” You started to feel worried.

“Well, you know how You-Know-Who is back and all right?” He said.

“Yeah, and what does that have to do with you coming here?”

“In the first wizarding war, Dumbledore put together a group called the Order of the Phoenix, which fought against You-Know-Who. Now, since he’s back, Dumbledore called the Order again, and since my parents are part of it - where staying at Sirius’ childhood home.” Fred explained.

“Okay.” You said, slightly confused, “You could’ve just told me this in a letter.”

“That’s the point.” He sighed, “As much as I’ve wanted to tell you these in my letters I can’t. As a precaution, Dumbledore doesn’t want us to include much information in our letters because it might fall into the wrong hands. That’s why my letters have been short lately. I hope that you’re not mad at me.”

You giggled, gently pinching his cheek, “Of course not! I have to admit that I did miss your novel-like letters, but I just assumed you were busy and you didn’t have much time to write.”

“Sweetheart,” Fred cooed, nudging your cheek with his nose, “I’ll always have time for you.”

“I told you!” Your sister shouted from the kitchen causing you to burst out laughing while Fred just furrowed his brows at you.

“What does she mean?” your boyfriend asked.

“Well, she knew that I assumed that you were busy lately, and she said that she had read your letters to me and from that, she can say that you’re never busy when it comes to me.” You said, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Anyway.” You stirred the topic back to the reason why your boyfriend was here, “You just came to tell me about the Order?”

“No.” Fred grinned, “I’m here to take you to the Order.”

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[butlersbabe]

austin butler x reader– cloud nine

an: hi! i’m so sorry i’ve been kinda flaky on writing. i hope this pleases you bc i just barely got it done before 4am. anyways, this contains smut so minors DNI!!

warnings: smut? use of marijuana. that’s abt it.

words: 2.9k

The sound of cars passing, trucks honking and people hollering all kinds of things filled your room. You left your window open, it made you feel more connected to the outside world. Tomorrow's your day off, so you were geared up to treat yourself to whatever you pleased for the next twenty-four hours. You didn't have much on your mind since you'd been using your tired brain all day at your job that was just a shy of a block away.

On your way home, you stopped at the local dispensary. The employee who usually helped you let you know your favorite strain was back in stock, Pineapple Express. So of course, he hooked you up with a good deal since you'd went a while without it. And you made your way home. So here you are. At home, on the bed, deciding when you should dig into your new possession.

Just when the world could get any darker due to your eyes closing, nodding off from absolute boredom and exhaustion, your phone buzzed. It was Austin. You smiled at the screen, you hate that he made you do that but you kind of loved it.

Austin and you met through a mutual friend about two months ago. She said that she’d heard he has dick that would “make you see stars” or something like that. You didn’t care about that just yet. You wanted to know him. And you were getting to. You weren't quite dating yet but he was yours, you were his. The two of you had only hung out a handful of times, one or twice at your apartment and once or twice at his. You guys haven't even kissed. That didn't mean he didn't make you nervous still. A guy as popular, well, famous, as Austin should be hanging out around you. He should be with some girl who did more than just go to work and pay taxes. The situation was odd. But you more than liked it.

"Hey :)"

He'd mentioned that he was going to text you after his interview or something like that. Austin never let his promises fall through. This was turning out to be something you figured you wouldn't regret. He was sweet, loyal, one of those "too good to be true" kind of things. As long as you did your part, this may be a good deal.

"Hi there!" You reply.

You two ask about each other's day, what you did, what you both ate. And soon enough, you were on the question you knew was coming along. He asked if he could come over? Of course you wanted him to, but your apartment wasn't clean at all, you weren't motivated to clean it but you knew it had to be done. "Of course!" You reply, sending it with hesitation. Quickly, you type up another message reading, "See you in about an hour?" You really hoped he'd agree because you definitely didn't have the apartment looking presentable.

"An hour. I'll be there."

It was settled, he'd be here in an hour.

You quickly hop up from you spot on your bed. And get up, speedily stripping away your waitress uniform leaving you in sweaty undergarments. Flinging those off your body, you take the fastest shower you've ever taken, shaving just in case anything happens. But why would it? The two of you haven't even kissed, my held hands but that was it. Hopping out and drying off, you threw on something comfortable and left your damp hair to do what it wanted while you cleaned.

Your room was the easiest, throw everything in the hamper, straighten up your vanity, close the closet door. Kitchen was already pretty clean, so was the bathroom. You fixed the living room up, you only had a couple things on the floor and some cups on the coffee table. You throw those in the sink and then you were done. It wasn't much. But it was cleanish and your job was done. You should set unrealistic standards for yourself, honestly.

Walking back into your room, you looked at your phone and notice only about 45 minutes have passed. That left you 15 minutes for absolutely nothing. You wandered back to the side of your bed closet to your window and sat next to your little black cup of weed. Popping it open, you let the aroma fill your nose. You sit it on your night stand and open the drawer and pull out a book of little, white rolling papers and pluck one from the stack. Sprinkling your weed into the paper, you check the time again. You have plenty of time to smoke before he got here. Finishing the joint, you take it outside the opened window, a lighter and ashtray already found a home there on your spacious window sill, leaving your phone inside.

Lighting the stick up, you cover the flame from any lingering breezes. Thank god the shop had this stuff, otherwise, you would probably be smoking some trash Reggie that you only bought because you didn't feel like spending a lot of coin on anything else. Once the soft orangey glow formed at the end of your joint, you tossed the lighter back into the tray.

You take a puff or two before giving yourself a breather. Your leg shakes with anticipation, you hoped Austin wouldn't have a problem with this. You'll eventually tell him at some point but you didn't really know how to ask him about it. It wasn't even a sensitive subject to you, you just couldn't imagine the immense embarrassment that would run through your body had he found out and was indefinitely against it.

You take another drag and let the smoke fall from your freshly chap-sticked lips. You could feel your body begin to numb and thoughts become a little fuzzy. You worries were being whisked away. This feeling was one you never wanted to get rid of.

"Y/N?"

Shit. Austin. She must've left the door unlocked or something. But he was here and she was smoking this strong substance.

You turn around the top half of your body around and sheepishly smile at him. "Hey, Aus." Aus? Really??

Austin was dressed in a black jacket and jeans with some expensive designer shoe on. He stepped closer and looked at you and studied what your were in the middle of.

"Whatcha doing?" His husky voice asks, as he makes his way outside with you, placing himself between your and the stairs to then next floor. "Ah," You couldn't lie now, you were caught green handed. "I'm just smoking. Helps we chill out and have a good time. Just makes me feel good." You answered honestly. Austin nods, and looks at the white roll in between your index finger and thumb.

"Could I have some?"

Your head snaps towards him in shock. You didn't think he smoked.

"You smoke?" You asked, puzzled in regards to what the blonde boy said.

"Well. I- I haven't-"

He stopped himself before he could fumble over anymore words and spoke his next words coyly.

"No, I don't usually. I haven't in a good while."

You were overly relieved to say the least. "Um, then, sure. Don't inhale too-" You speak while handing him the joint but don't get your last word out before he begins to suck on the stick. You let him continue until he lets off and starts to cough up a lung. You give a slight chuckle and pat his back to help loosen his chest up. "Damn, Austin." You shake your head and ask if he's okay and he responds by taking another hit but not as deep. He still struggles to inhale again but does it, surely.

"Here, give me that back." You say taking the joint away. "Open your mouth." You ordered, holding his jaw with your free hand. You take a long drag and then pucker your lips to blow the smoke into his mouth. "Now inhale." And he does so, no near as much coughing as he had done just minutes earlier. You let go of his face and take a hit for yourself. Then give the joint back to Austin. "Go easy on it." You tell him.

Soon enough you're both left with a stinger abc you toss that into the ashtray with the rest of your joint butts. You both step back into your room, lavender and weed now have become the codependent smells. The city become too loud for you so closing the window was a move you had to make before taking Austin to sit on the bed. You can tell he's feeling warm and fuzzy. "How you doing?"

He turns to you with a big grin and glossy, red eyes and sits for a slight second before laughing at the question which set you off as well. The cackles ring through the room and down the hall. You two were pretty high. You both look at each other after the giggle fit and decide it's time to go get a snack.

You got up and asked him, "Hey, you hungry?" And he shakes his head. You take off to the kitchen and grab a pack of pepperoni pizza bagel bites, your personal favorite post smoke sesh snacks. He followed you around the kitchenette like a lost puppy, his hand on your waist, your hand is his, or his head laying on your shoulder at almost all times. You didn't quite mind this though. It was kinda cute.

"Y/N." Austin whined to you during the only split second his wasn't skin-to-skin with you. You scoffed, sarcastically and went over to him, his lanky arms enveloping you.

As soon as they were done, you transferred them to a plate and took it to your bedroom for you two to chill out and eat. You both devour the snack food and place the plate to the side, freeing up room on the mattress.

"Austin." You giggle.

"Y/N." He chortles back.

"I'm so high." And it was like you said the funniest thing on earth. The bed shook just from you two howling in laughter at absolutely nothing. Austin then listened to you ramble about countless conspiracy theories and "what-if's." He was stunned by what you were saying and kept out of the talking.

"So if a robber didn't break in-"

"I'm telling you, it was the brother!"

The two of you sat on the ground, Austin playing with your fingers. He looks up to you, he surveys your face, and hums. “You’re so pretty.” And of course, you thank him. He begins to lean in and you quickly change the subject to another thing, something about the Mandela Effect.

An hour or so had passed and you both were still settled into your highs. On the bed, you now sat face to face, his arm across your waist, pulling your body into his. Only the light from the window and the bright moon filled your room. That was just enough to see his immaculate features. You studied him, his beautiful face and all. The blue eyes, the blond hair. Everything. He was so beautiful, and not just because your were still in the middle of a tingling high.

"I like you a lot." He says hushed.

You were a bit taken aback but you grinned. "I like you a lot too."

Pulling your body in more, as if it you two could get any closer, he moves his face towards yours. "Can I kiss you?" And you nod shyly. Your eyes close. Your lips finally touched. No fireworks or anything like that but instead a feeling of something indescribable. You take your free hand and caress his soft face. Austin moans through the kiss, his crotch searching for any friction.

You break away from the kiss and push him to laying on his back. Throwing a leg over his waist, you straddle his waist. Your lips attach to his neck, sucking a couple, well a few marks onto his tan skin. His large, veiny, hands grip your ass, moving your hips across his hardening dick in his pants. You grew wetter by the second, hearing him moan with sexual hunger. "Fuck, Y/N." He whimpers. He was shuddering under your touch, completely encapsulated by the feeling of your heat pressed against his. You pull at his shirt, letting him know you were ready to discard the garment, you doing the same to yourself, leaving you in your beautiful skin and that only.

"You're excited, aren't you, baby?" You ask, sitting up and rolling your hips against his. He makes a sound too sweet for this world and you stop, knowing what you wanted your next move to be. Slipping down to where you sat in between his legs. Your fingers undo his belt, the button on his jeans then the zipper. You tug down his jeans and boxers letting his cock fling out from his boxers and slap his quickly rising and lowering stomach. His tip was already shiny and slick with pre-cum. You smiled at the sight, pulling his jeans the rest of the way off of his legs. Seeing Austin like this made you want to melt. His hungry eyes were yearning for your touch.

You sat on your knees between his running your nails down his thighs. Slowly, you lower your face to the head of his penis, lick a wet stripe up the length of it and take it into your mouth. He lets out a throaty moan, head dropping onto the pillows beneath his head. You bob up and down, focusing on tip. He let out some of the most heavenly moans you’ve heard tangled up with profanities. You’re so enthralled by the way he sounded and looked. Your tongue swirls and his hips buck to hopefully feel more of the feeling he was receiving. You let go of his dick with a wet pop and take his length into your hand. Still moist with saliva, you start to jerk him off. You run your hand up and down the most sensitive part of his dick, keeping a steady pace, slow enough to drive a man crazy.

“Fuck, y/n.” He pants, sitting up to get a better look at what your were doing to him, his eyes still lazy and red. You made him go wild with the teasing. His legs shook, sensitive to the touch most likely due to the high he was having. Austin was getting more eager to fuck you with each passing stroke.

“Feel good, baby?” You taunt him.

He had had enough at this point. Pushing you back, you land with your head just barely missing the edge of the bed. He pulls your legs from under you and peels your sweats from your legs, taking your underwear with them. Austin positions his face between your legs and begins to suck on your thighs, leaving deep purple marks. One, then two, and a third on the other. You could feel his warm breath on your wet pussy. He was making you rethink teasing him.

“Austin-“ You choke out, gripping his blonde locks. “P-Please, fuck.”

He didn’t hesitate to put his tongue in between your folds. Only kitten licks were given to your fragile clit. Austin wanted to make you break. You feel two fingers play at your hole, soon after thrusting in and out as the licks got more intense. A groan from your chest was released, letting Austin know he was doing a good job. “Oh my fucking god.” You manage to breathe out. Austin begins lapping at your clit giving you the most euphoric feeling you’ve felt in a good while.

“Shit, Austin, I’m so fucking close-“ Your legs close on his head as you cum,

You give him a hazy look and he smiles, spreading your legs a bit further. He started to find his way between your legs, keeping eye contact the whole time he lines himself up with you. Pushing in, you gasp at his girth. You both moan in sync, the feeling of being one for the first time was a good one. Even better than you’d initially thought it’d be.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby. I could fuck you all night.”

He spends no time waiting to start pumping in and out of your wetness. You wrap your arms around his back, legs propped up and splayed as far as they possibly could. The sound of both of your pleased senses and skin meeting skin continuously fills the room.

You feel his cock hitting your g-spot and you start to lose control of your body, nails scratching at his back. You felt the his breathing pick up signaling his climax coming soon. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again, Austin.”

You gasp, clenching you walls around his dick. He keeps fucking into you, your g-spot repeatedly being hit. “Don’t cum yet, baby. Cum with me. I’m so fucking close.”

You felt as if you could let go at any moment, he strokes a few more times before his panting hitches, “Oh my god.” He slurs, you both let out moans to surely be heard by your neighbors. You cum and grasp his bicep, hoping something would keep you steady. He pulls out and cums onto your stomach. “Goddamn, y/n.”

You laid there, chest rising in short breaths. He reaches for a towel hanging out of your hamper and cleans you up, himself, then wipes himself off.

“You wanna go take a shower?” You ask. And he nods, taking your hand before the two of you run off to the bathroom.

[ninlilwinds]

hey if ur taking requests i read ur anemic reader post and liked it very much so could i request an anemic reader with lisa and ei? sorry bc english isn't my first language and thank youu

Anemic Reader x Genshin characters

No need to apologize the request was clear and understood. I hope I did this right. Sorry about replying so late as well I left this in my drafts and completely forgot! >_< So sorry!!

Same as with the other one I didn't specify the condition, but it does have characteristic of anemia.

Also, very sorry for this being pretty short. Lately my writing has been going down the hill.

Plot: Reader with special condition being comforted by character

Character: Lisa, Raiden Ei

Warning Not proofread, if any mistakes are found please let me know. Also, I this can be read as platonic (by my standards). Also, there is mentions of injury and blood if that trigger anyone, it might be best to not read. It's nothing serious, but just in case.

Lisa

Lisa had noted symptoms for your condition before you had even told her yourself of what you had. She is very knowledgeable in all subjects and medicine is not excluded from that.

Because of this she never really pressed on it, but she did make anything you did around her a bit easier. Like today when you were helping her organize the library.

"Are you still up for more organizing cutie?" LIsa smiled, her pile of books mostly gone whereas you struggled to put one of the books on your still large piles on the top shelf.

She walked over and grabbed it from you, setting it aside, "We can use the ladder later." she assured you.

You huffed, tired from doing this all day, but still wanting to help the lovely Lisa.

"I'll finish my pile eventually, I promise. I'm just a bit tired." You assured it was nothing.

Lisa nodded, "You can finish later. How about we go for lunch." She suggested and you agreed to it.

As you gathered your stuff and headed out the door, Lisa kept close. Since you were tired from your previous work at the library of carrying heavy book and going up and down ladders, she wasn't sure your body could take much more. Truthfully, she had much more to do around Monstadt and the city, but she knew you'd try to tag along so your next day off she'd do the long-distance things.

As you both ate and conversed, Lisa kept monitoring your condition closely, which honestly made you flustered. You assumed Lisa knew something of what was going on, but near asked her about it.

"After this, how about we call it a day, hm? I'm feeling rather tired." She said fanning herself.

"But I still have the things to finish up and the library. You can go ahead; I'll finish it up." You spoke.

She wasn't quite sure if she should let you go, but it wasn't as if you were completely helpless, and she didn't want to make you feel less, so she nodded, "Don't work too hard."

And with that you both parted ways for the day. Lisa went home and you back to the library.

You were already exhausted, but you didn't want to let Lisa down after all the help she's given you. So, you pushed on and continued to sort the books. Walking around the library countless times, pushing through the fatigue you felt. You vision was already crossing and doubled and the ground beneath you swayed, but you only had five books to sort.

Just as you were on your last two, dizziness overcame you and you fell from the ladder down to the floor. You had hit your head on the corner of one of the tables and it had started to bleed beneath you.

Your consciousness slowly faded, and the darkness greeted you with a cold embrace.

You don't know how or when, but when you woke up you were in one of the rooms from the cathedral. Barbara and Lisa were talking with each other near the doorway when your head turned towards them.

When Barbara saw you awake, she asked a few basic questions on how you felt and then stepped outside.

Lisa had a calm smile in her features, but she looked more tired than usual in the way she carried herself, "You had me worried there my little cutie. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, mostly." you said, rubbing your head.

She couldn't resist giving you a tight hug, "Be more careful next time." She said.

Things resumed to normal after that, and she kept looking after you from afar.

Ei

She never truly understood sicknesses and such. Humans were so fragile that something like this could hinder their performance. But, nevertheless, she cared a lot about you and made sure you were always in tip top shape.

From calling in doctors, to having security on you all the time, she would make sure you were safe at all times. And whenever possible she would be with you as well.

Truthfully you were quite frustrated at your limitations sometimes, for example, when Ei had long trips, you could not go to because of how easily you could get sick Tred or hurt.

So, this upcoming trip that Ei had to the shrine to make sure everything is running smoothly, you were upset about.

You said goodbye to Ei and watched as her carriage with the escorts left the palace gates. You tried to keep yourself distracted and it had been successful until the third day.

On that day something urgent was happening and they were trying to find the messenger to deliver a message to the Raiden so she could decide how to deal with it.

You offered yourself up and they handed you the letter and you set off. Although you didn't run the whole way your pace was fast. You stopped here and there for a necessary rest but pushed through most of your fatigue until you made it to the top of the mountain, where you spotted Ei.

"(Y/n)? What are you doing here?" She was very much confused and concerned. Your skin was pale and when he grabbed ur arm to help you maintain your support they were ice cold, something she knew wasn't characteristic of humans.

You panted and sank down to the floor, holding the letter out to her. Because the climb was the last stretch you didn't take a break, and your vision was dimming, the world turning.

She set the letter aside. At the moment, you were her top priority.

After you had been settled in a more comfortable area, she looked down at you concerned, "Are you alone?"

You nodded, a bit embarrassed.

"(Y/n), you know you can do things like this. You have to take better care of yourself, please." she said. You sighed and nodded, muttering a quite ok.

She sat next to you and stayed with you until you were good enough for the trip ahead. Turns out the matter wasn't too urgent.

After you had regained part of your strength you both left together, and she kept double the security on you when you came back.

[seriouslysnape]

Under the Radar

__

Severus Snape x Fem! Professor! Reader

Warnings: None. 

Request: hiii can I request a husband Severus Snape x wife reader. The reader is a professor in Hogwarts they don't want the students to know so they kept it a secret. And the Weasley twins are the first to know. (the Weasley twins are close to reader since she's kind thanks.) and you can continue it your own way. (灬º‿º灬)♡

Word Count: 2,014

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,”

__

“You have class in fifteen minutes, Severus.” You nagged at your husband who was still sprawled out in bed.

A groggy chuckle escaped from the man as he finally sat up on his elbows to look at you, watching as you hurried to get dressed before you were horribly late.

“So do you, love.” He countered.

“Yes, but I’m almost ready,” You argued with a slight roll of your eyes; “And you are not.”

“It doesn’t take me long. You know this.” He bantered.

It was true after all. Severus didn’t put that much effort into getting ready everyday. Pants, robes, shoes, and MAYBE brush his hair. That was the morning routine of Severus Snape. You were a bit more refined, taking time to pick out an outfit and making yourself look presentable to your personal standards.

“I know, but do you really want your Potions classroom unattended with a bunch of Slytherins and Gryffindors?” You grinned, knowing that they’d wreak havoc sooner or later.

Severus groaned at the thought. It wouldn’t have been the first time where he walked in at the last minute to stop Ron Weasley from throwing a cauldron at Draco Malfoy’s head. He swung his feet over the side of the bed, padding to his closet where you stood as well.

“One of these days, I’ll get a morning of peace and have you for myself.” He grumbled.

You gave a mocking, sympathetic pout at your mumbling husband. You took his face into your hands, drumming your fingers playfully along his cheeks.

“Poor baby. Because you NEVER get any time with me.” You said with a tone thick with sarcasm.

Severus huffed, but his arms snaked around your waist.

“Is it so wrong to want a quiet morning with my wife?” He questioned.

Severus had a point. It had been quite some time since the two of you had the opportunity to sleep in, to drown out the world until the two of you felt ready to brave it together. He missed waking you up by peppering you with lazy kisses and soft, sweet mumbles in your ear. Life had just gotten so busy that things weren’t exactly what he would consider standard for the two of you.

It also didn’t help that outside of your private bedroom, you weren’t exactly a public couple. Aside from the faculty and staff of Hogwarts, none of the students had any knowledge of yours and Severus’ marriage. It had been a mutual decision, considering that neither of you were sure you wanted all the kids knowing that two professors were married to one another. While your last name had legally been changed to Snape, you were always referred to by your maiden name. As far as the students knew, you and Severus hadn’t even ever had a conversation, let alone tied the knot almost three years ago.

“I know, Sev. I’ll tell you what. I’ll clear my schedule for tomorrow since it’s Saturday. We can sleep in...” You said, lowering your voice to a whisper in his ear; “And I’ll be all yours all day.”

The way that his eyes lit up made your heart leap. He kissed you excitedly, your laugh muffled under the kiss. Despite the fact that you had a ten minute head start, Severus still managed to be ready before you, stealing another quick kiss before he was out the door en route to the dungeons.

Your classes went smoothly as usual. The students were peppy with energy since it was Friday, but their focuses were very in tune with your lessons for the day. You had returned to your office after classes to do some fast grading before giving in to the weekend. Most of the students had returned to their dorms to have some down time before getting into their weekend shenanigans. However, it seemed that your biggest fans were even more boisterous than usual.

Your office door swung open rather abruptly, causing you to flinch and grab at your chest in alarm.

“Hi, Professor!” Fred Weasley screeched.

“Hey, Professor [Y/N]!” George echoed.

The red-headed twins were (without a doubt) very fond of you. Your personality just seemed to mix well with theirs, and you were always willing to take time out of your day to chat with them. You were usually one of the first to know about their daring pranks, always having to fake your surprise when they actually did them.

“Hi, boys.” You greeted with a smile.

It wasn’t at all uncommon for students to come by your office during the day. Usually it was because they had a concern about their performance in your class or confusion on an assignment. With the Weasley twins, though, they always came by just because they felt like it.

“Grading on a Friday?” Fred acquired, plopping down into one of the chairs in front of your desk.

George tutted, eyeing over the stack of tests on your desk.

“It’s a shame. You should be out getting knackered at The Three Broomsticks with McGonagall.” George said, scanning nosily over the objects on your bookshelf.

You snorted, resuming your grading.

“I’ll leave the heavy imbibing to the two of you. The day that I see Minerva McGonagall getting hammered at a bar will be the day that I become a Legilimens.” You replied.

George and Fred snickered, continuing to talk your ears off while they snooped around. You never minded their company, as long as they didn’t stop your grading progress. You didn’t notice when the two of them went quiet. You also didn’t notice when George silently called for his brother to join him across the room. 

Fred got up from his seat to see what George had found, his eyes practically bugging out of his head when he saw what it was. You had a habit of leaving your stuff laying around random areas of your office, so sometimes little hints of your relationship with Severus were out in the open for anyone to see. However, George and Fred were the only people on the planet who would actually find anything.

On one of your bookshelves rested an empty, opened envelope. It was a letter from a pen pal friend of yours that you had lost physical contact with after you graduated from Hogwarts. However, the kicker was that the addressed name on the front wasn’t what the twins would have expected to see.

It was addressed to you, using your married name. 

George and Fred looked at each other with quizzical expressions. Why in the world would you have something addressed to you with Snape’s last name? George and Fred had this weird, telepathic twin communication thing that always freaked you out. They could sort out a problem or have a conversation without ever saying anything. 

Their puzzled looks faded into realization when they sorted it out. They almost couldn’t believe it. Severus Snape married to one of the friendliest, nicest professors? It was shocking...but it did make sense.

You always wore a wedding ring on your left hand, but no one seemed to know who the lucky guy was. You were very private about your personal life.

Fred pocketed the envelope, and George announced their exit.

“Lovely to see you as always.” He said, holding down his giggle.

“Yeah, we’ll see you Monday, Professor.” Fred added on, ushering his brother out before either of them could blow it.

You gave them a friendly wave as they left, still clueless to the fact that they had found out your secret.

Monday morning rolled around (after Severus’ promised Saturday morning in) once again, and another week had begun. It didn’t take long for you to notice that something was odd.

Students all day had been acting strangely. Their quiet whispers and sneaky giggles when they passed by you in the corridors were definitely suspicious. You couldn’t get them to pay attention in class for the life of you, all of them clearly preoccupied.

“Draco Malfoy,” You snapped, hands on your hips; “Just what are you laughing about now?”

Draco’s laughter stopped, but his amused smile never left his face. This was the third time today that you had gotten on to him for disrupting class, him and Crabbe chuckling on and off about something. 

“Nothing, nothing.” Draco replied, still chortling under his breath.

You sighed out heavily. All of the kids were testing your nerves today.

“If I hear any more interruptions from you, I’ll have to give you detention,” You scolded, but in a calm tone; “Do you understand?”

Draco nodded, waiting until your back turned to the board again before he responded.

“Yes, Professor Snape.”

Your writing stopped, the entire classroom bursting into hushed laughter. You turned to face the young Malfoy, his cheeks flushed as he and Crabbe failed to contain their laughter any longer. It was obvious now that the whispers and weird glances were due to the fact that they knew. Somehow, they had found out.

“Professor [L/N].” You corrected.

“Hmm, but technically you’re Professor Snape.” He hummed.

You bit your cheek in thought. If they knew, there wasn’t any sense in denying it. But you were curious as to how this started.

“Draco, how did you all find out?” You questioned.

He shrugged with a smirk.

“I heard it from Pansy.” He admitted.

You looked to Pansy.

“Blaise told me.” She confessed.

You followed the trail of names and who-told-who until it stemmed back to the original perpetrators. Two suspects that you should have figured long ago.

“The twins. Of course.” You sighed.

The students had questions (and a lot of them), curious to know how long and how it had happened. Most of them were just stunned that Severus Snape actually had a life outside of his classroom. A life with someone like YOU nonetheless.

You were fidgety to talk to Severus about it. You were curious to see how he’d react and how this would change the way the two of you interacted during the school year. After all, it was kind of your fault for leaving your stuff around.

“Were the students acting peculiar to you today?” Severus asked, breaking you from your thoughtful daze.

Your gaze snapped up from your dinner plate as you peered at him with a fluttery belly.

“Peculiar how?” You asked.

“They all seemed mischievous. As if they knew something they weren’t supposed to.” Severus claimed, looking at you as if he already knew the reason why.

“Well, now that you mention it...they sort of know about us...that we’re married.” You confessed.

Truthfully, Severus didn’t care that much if the student body knew. It was inevitable that they’d all find out eventually, but he was interested to hear how exactly the cat was let out of the bag.

“They ‘sort of’ know?” He questioned, clearly amused; “How’s that?”

You sucked in a breath.

“The Weasley twins might’ve figured it out. They’re smart, Sev. Much smarter than you give them credit for,” You babbled; “It’s not their fault. I shouldn’t have-”

“Stop, stop,” He cut you off with a soft smile; “You don’t think I’m mad about this, do you?”

Your shoulders relaxed at his gentle tone, but your eyes remained wide.

“It’s just that we...always wanted to keep it a secret.” You reminded him.

His head nodded and he set his fork down to give you his full attention.

“That is true, but we both knew that couldn’t last forever,” Severus pointed out; “I could never keep you hidden away forever.”

Your cheeks burned at his compliment, your smile beaming at him. He nudged your foot under the table. It was a wondrous thought to think about how different (or not) things would be now that they knew.

“I’m afraid I’ll still have to keep my maiden name. To avoid confusion.” You stated.

“Of course. Just as long as you’re still my Mrs. Snape.” He grinned with a wink.

You returned with a laugh, prompting the end of the lighthearted conversation.

“That I can definitely promise.”

[kindahoping4forever]

Stay Here, Honey, I Don't Wanna Share // Ashton Irwin

Of course Ash asked his girl to come see the Global Citizen show! 😌 Thank you to everyone who's been supporting this little series, I've been having so much fun with it! Hopefully Ash and/or the band will play again soon so we'll have an excuse to revisit this relationship. (I'm undecided on if I should break from the IRL timeline - I'd love to hear your opinion!)

Thank you to @conversecake for suggesting a particular scene right after Encore first happened (😏) and of course, to @cal-puddies for the hype, the notes and pointing me in the right direction when I got lost a few times.

Warnings: The standards for this series: Lovestruck New Boyfriend!Ash, Stage!Ash, sex in a public place. Also featured: road head, mild dirty talk, a scene of marijuana use, oral sex performed on a female, lovingly rough (unprotected) sex with brief spanking. Also I had to write Ash shaving his beard and I'm sad about it tbqh.

Word Count: 8090

Encore: A Stage!Ash Series Masterlist

Masterlist // Ko-Fi and 2021 Taglist linked above

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

“OK, I think I actually am nervous about this show.”

While Ashton is typically one of the most self-assured, confident people you’ve ever met, you can’t say you’re surprised to hear those words come out of his mouth. As you sit at his kitchen island, watching him with his hair gone wild, clad only in his boxers, blearily scraping the remnants of yet another burned omelette into the garbage, it’s easy to see he doesn’t quite have it all together.

“Ash, it’s a big day, it makes sense you’d have some jitters,” you say empathetically. “Even if it wasn’t the band’s first show in… what’d you say? Almost 2 years? It’s still an audience ten times the size of the rooms you’ve been playing recently, it’s still being televised --”

“This is supposed to be a pep talk, right?”

You give him a soft smile and walk over to the stove where he’s standing; you hoist yourself up to sit on the counter and he takes the hint, moving to stand between your legs. “You guys have been rehearsing all week and from the videos you’ve sent me, you sound great,” you reassure him, smoothing down his hair.

“I just don’t get why I feel so weird about this one,” he admits, playing with the hem of your sleep shorts. “Those side gigs I’ve been playing were supposed to get me back in the swing of things so this didn’t happen.”

“Think this one just means a little bit more, babe. You’re playing with your boys again,” you say gently, heart melting at the way he won’t meet your eyes, knowing you’re right.

Ashton laces his fingers with yours and softly replies, “Those other shows meant a lot to me too.” The sweet kiss that he presses to your lips confirms that he’s referring to your attendance.

“Maybe that’s your problem here, I’m not using my womanly wiles to distract you from your nerves like I have been,” you joke.

“Well that’s my fault, baby, you probably don’t have the energy, I’m so out of it, we’ve been up for hours and I still haven’t been able to serve you a proper breakfast,” he laments, looking around at the kitchen’s disarray.

You shrug, “I’ll order something, it shouldn’t take long. You go sit and relax, put on a record, maybe pack us a bowl? I’ll make us some toast to nibble at while we wait.”

He pouts. “I like when I get to make you breakfast.”

You lean in and peck at his downturned lips over and over until he smiles. “Will it make you feel better if I burn our toast so we’re even?”

He nods with pursed lips and you kiss him again before spinning him around and sending him into the living room with a swat.

You place your usual breakfast order and tidy up the kitchen a bit, feeling content as the smell of Ashton’s favorite strain of weed fills your nostrils and the sound of him softly singing to the Beatles record he put on fills your ears. As promised, you join him in the living room with a plate of slightly burnt toast, along with two cups of coffee.

You set the items on the coffee table and laugh softly at the sight before you. He looks adorably ridiculous: a giant man stretched out on his bright green couch, with a plush pink blanket pulled up to his chin, only his face and hands peeking out as he lights up and takes another pull from his pipe. He silently lifts the blanket, inviting you into his cocoon and you settle onto the couch with him, murmuring contentedly as he wraps the blanket and his arms around you.

“You know, leading up to today, I was sure I’d be the one trying to hide away from the world from nerves about all this,” you admit, hissing at the coolness of his gold medallion as you settle against his bare chest.

He kisses the side of your head and offers you the pipe. “Really? You’ve hung out with everyone quite a few times now, the guys are always asking about you. You shouldn’t still be nervous about them, baby,” he says reassuringly.

You blow a smoke ring, collecting your thoughts. “No, I know, everyone’s been really welcoming… that dinner we had really helped me start to get to know everyone,” you agree. “It’s more the scale of this show, I’ve been thinking about. You and a bunch of other big artists, security, all those screaming fans… it’s like I’ve been dating ‘local musician Ash’ and tonight I’m gonna walk in there with ‘Ashton Irwin, multi-platinum selling artist, voted third best rock drummer in the world.’”

“You really need to not be googling me,” Ash giggles, watching you take another hit. “And you know none of that means anything.”

You hand him back the pipe and smirk, “Maybe not to you, but to some people, you’re a pretty big deal is all I’m saying.”

He shrugs, “I’m walking in there with the title of ‘your boyfriend’ and that’s the only one that matters to me.”

You grin and kiss his cheek while he takes a puff. “Cornball.”

His eyes shine with affection as he tilts your chin with his thumb, planting his lips on yours and passing his smoke into your mouth. He reaches over to sit the pipe and lighter on the table and then he’s wrapped around you again, lazily kissing you until the front gate buzzes with your food delivery.

The combination of weed, cuddles and breakfast seem to calm Ashton for the time being, though the three cups of coffee he’s consumed will surely have him amped up again in no time. You lay on the couch with him, mindlessly running your hand through his hair while he checks his phone, reading the show itinerary to you.

“...We’re soundchecking at 4:30 so probably want to leave maybe an hour before that? It’s not far but that gives us a nice traffic buffer, time to check out the lay of the land when we get there? Find the seats they comped us so I know where to look for you,” he winks, scratching his beard as he considers his plan.

“Sounds good,” you agree, letting your hand drop down and scratch at his beard too. “What I’m less on board with is that crazy talk last night when you were going on about shaving this beautiful beard.” You shake your head and glare disapprovingly for emphasis.

“Beautiful, eh?" He beams, grabbing your hand from his face and bringing it to his lips. “Red carpet vibes tonight, baby. Can’t be out there lookin’ scraggly.”

“I think it looks nice. Handsome. Distinguished.”

“And here I thought you just like how it feels when I do this,” he says, pulling you across his lap and leaning down to nuzzle your neck, his beard rough against you.

You giggle, making a big show of trying to push him away when really you’re loving every second of his attack; he finally relents and your laughter continues as you try to catch your breath. “Well I’m not saying I won’t miss that,” you chuckle, standing and starting to clean up after your meal.

Ash watches you for a beat and when you bend over to reach a stray napkin, you suddenly feel his hands on your hips, pulling you closer as he sits on the edge of his seat. You shiver when you feel his lips on your lower back, kissing along the exposed skin between the waistband of your shorts and where your tank has ridden up. You think he’s done when he makes it all the way across but then he’s turning you in his hold, spreading his kisses to your hips and then your stomach. You look down to watch him curiously as he pecks up and over the rise and fall of your tummy, your breath starting to catch from his beard tickling you while he works.

“OK, so I guess maybe there’s things I’ll miss about it too,” he teases, quickly running his face back and forth across your torso just to feel you react.

“See?” You laugh, brushing some fallen curls out of his eyes.

He pulls back and hooks his thumbs in the elastic of your shorts, taking them down slowly while his mouth follows along. “Think we’ve got time for a nice little sendoff,” he flirts, kissing over the trim of your underwear. “Lucky for us, even after that breakfast, I’m still hungry.” He leaves a wet, sloppy kiss over the front of your panties before catching the top of them in his teeth and dragging them down your legs, letting his scruff graze your skin the entire way.

You brace yourself on his shoulders as he helps you step out of your clothes before kissing his way back up your body. His lips dance across your belly while his hands run over your backside and he carefully lifts your leg, resting it on the couch, opening you up to him. You groan as he starts nibbling along your exposed inner thigh, with one hand pinching your ass, the other tenderly stroking the leg you still have on the ground. His face reaches your pussy and you feel his breath hot on your skin as he hovers there, making you wait. You hold out as long as you can but it’s only a few seconds before you desperately moan out his name, prompting him to dive in and give you what you want.

Ashton licks a long stripe up your pussy, making sure to flutter along your clit before licking his way back down. He flattens his already wide tongue to cover as much territory as he can before bringing it to a point and intricately tracing the ridges of your folds, working his face further and further in between your legs, coming so far off the couch he’s almost on his knees.

“Mmm… Ashhhhh” is the most you can get out at the moment, caught up not just in the pleasure but the intimacy of the situation. You take a shaky breath, tangling your fingers through his hair as he teases at your entrance. His tongue dips inside and you tug on his curls, whimpering as he explores, whimpering as he pulls away again.

“What do you want, baby?” He responds to your whines, biting softly at your lips. “Tell me what my girl needs.” He kitten licks over your clit a few times before attaching his lips to it, loudly sucking and lavishing it with his tongue.

You struggle out a couple of weak breaths, already starting to feel overwhelmed. “Need. This. More? Just more. Just you,” you stammer, grabbing from his hair to his shoulders and back again, not sure how much longer you can steady yourself.

The wet sounds of Ash eating you out are momentarily interrupted by the long, guttural groan he lets out in response to your direction. He pulls away, rubbing over your legs soothingly before scooping you up and scooting back in his seat, resting his head on the back of the couch while he holds you above him.

His hands cradle your ass, kneading your cheeks as he brings his face closer to your center. “Oh, I like this much better,” he comments, tongue darting out to tease you a bit. His grasp tightens as you jump in his hold and he kisses along your lips and inner thighs until you settle. He checks in with you, “You good, baby?”

You look down at him, eyes blown with lust but filled with care, beard now wet with your need, hair pulled in every which way by your fingers. It seems like a ridiculous time for the thought but it crosses your mind that you might be in love with this man. You nod and breathe deep, trying to calm your heart that’s racing for about a million different reasons right now.

“Do you want to do something about this?” He asks, pulling at the hem of your tank.

You toss your shirt aside and hold his gaze as you run your hands over your breasts, grabbing and tugging at your nipples like you know he would if his hands weren’t busy holding you up.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, giving your ass a squeeze as he buries his face in your pussy again.

It doesn’t take long for Ashton to have you a moaning, muttering mess as he efficiently makes out with your clit while his strong hands hold you to his face. You try your best not to writhe too much against him, not wanting to detract from his efforts but his work just feels so good, you can’t help but follow along with his movements.

“So close, Ash… fuck… oh my god, it’s so good, baby,” you ramble, playing with your tits a little more before you have to bring your hands back to his hair in appreciation for how he’s eating you.

He mumbles a response between your legs and while it’s unintelligible, the effect is the same regardless and the vibration of his voice hurries your climax along. His tongue eagerly dances over your clit as your fingers in his hair pull and you huff out a cry of his name. His fingers dig into your skin, holding on tight as you gasp and shake above him, cumming hard on his tongue.

Ash groans, lapping at you as long as he can before he feels you begin squirming and he quickly pulls away, trying to be mindful of your sensitivity. He gently helps you down to lay in his arms; as you come back to yourself, you start realizing how exposed you feel, naked on his living room couch. He instantly reads your body language and wraps his blanket around you. You can’t decide what’s softer: the fuzzy pink fabric on your bare body or the gentle way he’s stroking your hair, quietly telling you how much he enjoys tasting you.

“Definitely gonna miss seeing your thighs all red and scratched up,” he teases warmly, rubbing his hands on your raw skin.

You pull him down into a kiss, mumbling into his mouth, “Still time to reconsider.”

But as you’ve learned these past few months, when Ashton feels strongly about something, it’s essentially set in stone, so you’re not surprised later when you walk into the bathroom to find him standing at the sink, freshly showered and in his robe, shaving kit on the counter.

“Come to say your final farewells?” He jokes, offering you a tender kiss before lathering his face with shaving cream.

“A sad day,” you say with an exaggerated pout that quickly turns to a giggle as he dabs some on your face. You lean against the counter and watch quietly as he begins shaving; it doesn’t matter what he’s doing, you love watching him work at something, the rare chance to watch him still and focused. As his face becomes more and more exposed, you think out loud, “You know, you’ve had a beard almost the entire time we’ve known each other.”

He rinses the razor under the tap and nods pensively. “Yeah, I guess so... think you’ll still like me?” He winks at you with a grin.

You take a beat to ponder. “...I’ll let you know,” you answer, winking back and breezily leaving the room.

A while later, you’re sitting in Ash’s car, nervously chewing your lip as you wait for him to lock up so you can hit the road; as the afternoon progressed, you could feel his anxious energy returning and you know it’s had to have increased tenfold now that it’s past the time he wanted to leave. You’re considering texting him to see what the holdup is when he finally emerges from the house, bright red polka dot shirt in stark contrast to the dark expression currently on his face.

“I put the top up so your hair won’t get too crazy and the directions are in the GPS,” you offer helpfully, watching closely to see if his jaw unclenches. “There’s a couple accidents on the highway so it wants you to take the streets.”

His jaw unclenches but his face scrunches up in annoyance. “Fuckin’ hell, last thing I wanna do right now is drive all up and down the fuckin’ Valley,” he grumbles, backing the Porsche out of the driveway. You give him a minute to process and when he gets to the stop sign at the end of the block, you reach over and gently rub his back, compassion spreading through you as you feel his tense muscles relax under your fingers.

The drive is silent for a few minutes and then Ashton reaches over and squeezes your knee affectionately. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Of course,” you respond, squeezing his hand.

He interlaces your fingers with his and raises them to his lips. “You look nice, by the way. Sorry, I should’ve mentioned it sooner.”

“Well thank you, babe, but I get it. You’ve got a lot to think about tonight but you don’t have to worry about me, we’re good,” you insist, touching his cheek. “You look nice too… I’m even getting used to this baby face.”

He snorts. “Not the worst case scenario you were dreading?”

“Well I mean, it’s got a lot to live up to after the beard’s final performance this afternoon,” you tease.

He grins, giving you the opportunity to appreciate how pronounced his dimples are without the cover of facial hair. “Some of my best work to date, if I do say so myself,” he boasts. His eyes shoot over in your direction to give you a once-over and when he licks his lips, pride courses through you, knowing you’re successfully distracting his mind from his worries.

The car stops at a red light and Ash immediately pulls you into a passionate kiss. “Shame I didn’t get a chance to return the favor,” you flirt, running your hand up and down his leg, leaving your palm to rest inappropriately high.

He smirks as the light changes and he turns his attention back to the road. “Damn shame,” he agrees knowingly, waiting to see how far you plan to take this.

You squeeze the inside of his thick thigh. “Just like it’s too bad we’re having to take all these empty side streets to get to the venue,” you comment suggestively, letting your fingers drift over and graze his crotch.

A chill runs down your spine at the way he sucks in a breath so you decide to repeat the gesture, this time adding a bit more pressure. Your own breath falters when he reaches down and holds your hand to him, making you press even harder. “Really just having the worst luck today,” he replies, his flushed face and labored breathing betraying the easy banter he’s trying to continue.

You decide you’re done being coy and give him a good squeeze before starting to work on getting his fly open. “I really want to make a joke about like, opportunity falling into your lap or something but honestly I’m too turned on to construct it,” you laugh.

His loud giggle is interrupted by the deep groan that escapes him when you finally get your hand inside his pants and on his hardening cock. You stroke him firmly while you shift in your seat, sitting up on your knees so you can comfortably clear the center console. You give a few teasing kisses to his ear and neck, working your other hand inside his shirt to run through his chest hair. He captures your lips again at the next stop sign and then with a cursory glance out the windows to make sure you don’t have an audience, you lean into his lap and flutter your tongue around his head.

Ashton exhales your name, gently resting his hand on your back as you lick up and down the sides of his cock, getting him nice and wet before you wrap your lips around it and start taking him down. You move slowly at first, a combination of wanting to tease him and also trying to get your bearings and figure out how to give a satisfactory blowjob in a moving car. Your fingers dig into his thigh as you move further down and the way you feel the muscle tighten combined with the soft grunts he’s giving in response, embolden you to take even more.

“Fuck, baby… that’s… god, that’s so fucking good,” he encourages as you wiggle your head, working him down as far as you can manage.

The angle prevents you from taking as much of him as you usually can but the sounds coming from him as you reach your limit seem to indicate he doesn’t mind. You bob up and down, steadily increasing your rhythm, letting your tongue drag along the underside of his cock, just like you’ve learned he likes.

You pull off to catch your breath, resting your head on his thigh as you pump him. “Never done this on the road before,” you admit, pushing up his shirt to nip at his belly. “For some reason asking you to pull over didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Efficient and talented, I really lucked out,” he chuckles, clutching the steering wheel a bit tighter as you lap at the precum forming at his tip before moving back down to trace along his ridges and veins.

You hum quietly as you suck the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around a few times before popping off to check in again. “Feels OK, though?” You ask, feeling oddly vulnerable for a second.

“Baby…” He begins incredulously, running his fingers through your hair as you press wet, open-mouthed kisses to his shaft. “It feels fucking amazing, just like everything you do for me… you’re fucking amazing.”

You feel your cheeks warm at his praise and you murmur your appreciation as you slide back down his length. With every bob up and down, you feel yourself getting more comfortable in this position and you find yourself able to let more of him in your mouth. You feel the car roll to a stop, remaining idle and you think to yourself you must be at another red light. You moan slightly, wondering if there are any other cars around, wondering why that possibility excites you, trusting your boyfriend to tell you if there’s any real chance of being seen.

It’s almost as if Ash can read your mind and he teases, “That moan because of me or because you’re hoping someone might see you being so good to me?”

That comment pulls an even louder moan from you before you pull off to breathlessly reply, “For you, of course. Always for you.” You run your fingertips up and down his cock, teasing him with feather-light touches while you dip down to peck kisses on his balls. He curses under his breath and you smirk, “You can tell me more about how good I’m being though.”

He chokes out a strained laugh as you take him in again. He tangles his fingers in your hair and obliges, “You like knowing how good you make me feel, don’t you? How warm and wet your pretty little mouth feels around my cock, how your hands always know just how to touch me and where… just feels so fucking good, baby. You’re so fucking good, baby… you’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You whine around his cock and take a second to steel yourself, trying to determine the likelihood that you might cum just from his words. “Fuck, Ash… fuck,” is the only thought you can articulate in this moment.

He smiles to himself, loving that he can affect you like this. “Bet you’re so fucking wet right now, aren’t you, baby? You know you’re gonna have to wait until later to cum again, gonna have to walk around with ruined panties all night and you still decided you wanted to get me off like this, huh? Such a good girl,” he coos.

Hearing Ashton appreciate you always drives you wild but you never could’ve predicted how hearing him raspily call you his “good girl” would make you feel. Your mouth glides up and down his length, hand massaging and twisting at the base, eagerly working to pleasure him, desperate to hear more of his praises.

His groans become more pronounced and his fingers in your hair begin tensing, indicating his climax is near. You pull up, gently sucking at his tip, panting, “Gonna cum for me, babe? Wanna taste it… I‘m gonna be so good and swallow every drop.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rocking into your hand. You sink back down and hollow out your cheeks, tongue working double-time to bring him over the edge. “So fucking close, baby… that’s right, just like that…”

You feel his thigh tense as he tries not to buck against you and then with a deep sigh of your name, his cock twitches on your tongue and warm cum fills your mouth. He groans and you murmur with every rope he releases, the taste of him and the satisfaction of pleasing him overwhelming you as you swallow it all down, as promised.

Ash lets out a loud exhale as you slowly pull up from his cock, making sure to thoroughly clean him with your tongue before coming off with a pop. You raise your head from his lap and chuckle quietly when you realize at some point before his orgasm, he pulled the car over and you were too distracted to notice.

His head is slumped against the seat, eyes still tightly shut as he breathily explains, “Knew I was about to be a wreck, figured we didn’t need the car to be one as well.”

You laugh again, tenderly caressing his face. His eyes flutter open and the adoration in them takes your breath away. “C’mere,” he whispers, cradling your face. He kisses you slowly, intimately and for the second time today, you consider that it might be love that you’re feeling.

You smile softly as you pull away. “We should get going,” you say, shifting to properly sit in your seat.

There are equal parts flirtation and concern in his voice when he asks “You sure?” and slides his hand high up on your thigh. He doesn’t say anything more but you can tell by his expression that he can feel the heat coming from between your legs and he knows your panties are soaked through.

You squeeze his hand and gently move it from your leg to the gear shift. “I’ll definitely need a quick bathroom cleanup when we get there but I’ll survive,” you shrug lightheartedly. “I’d be more upset if we made you late… would kind of defeat the purpose of that stress relief blowjob.”

Ashton mock-pouts as he puts his cock back in his pants. “Is that why you blew me? Thought you did it because you like me,” he sighs, unable to keep a grin from forming on his face.

You shake your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing out loud. “Sorry to lead you on like that.”

Traffic is uncharacteristically sparse the rest of the trip and despite your detour, Ash is still the first of the band to arrive. You expected to feel awkward and maybe a bit out of place following him around the venue as he greets the crew, management and event organizers but he keeps you close by, including you in the conversation with those you’ve met before, proudly introducing you to those you haven’t.

You both grab a snack and wait in the band’s trailer for everyone to arrive. Eventually, the rest of the guys trickle in and the energy in the room quickly shifts, the reality of being back together slowly sinking in for everyone, the air buzzing with every possible emotion: joy, excitement, anxiety, affection, gratitude.

Calum studies Ashton curiously before asking, “How many coffees you have today?”

He ponders for a second. “Four, I think?” He wiggles his cup. “Wanted a little boost before stage, this is my first since we got here.”

Cal shrugs, “Between the caffeine and those texts you sent this morning, I’d have expected you to be an inconsolable jittery mess by now… you light up in the parking lot or something?”

Ash discreetly nudges you before launching into some non-answer about harnessing his vibrations and staying mindful, clearly designed to keep Calum from asking follow-up questions. You admiringly watch him deflect but avoid both his and Cal’s eyes, not wanting to give away a hint of your pride at how effective your calming methods apparently are.

The guys finally get called to soundcheck and Crystal and Sierra invite you to watch with them; you hesitate at first, having never hung out with them without the guys before but they seem eager to include you. They chat with you as you make your way through the venue to check out your seats for the evening and happily explain what’s happening in the soundcheck process whenever there’s a break in the action. Ash gives you a sweet wave from the stage at one point and the girls seem almost as charmed by it as you are.

The night progresses quickly after that. You make it back to the trailer and see that the guys have changed into their stage outfits; you encounter Calum first, having a smoke outside, and you share an amused moment when you both realize that the kilt he’s chosen to wear looks remarkably similar to the pleated miniskirt you currently have on.

“It seems that someone has a type,” Luke cracks as he passes by, proudly winking at you both, impressed at his own joke.

You enter the trailer and find Ashton talking with Michael. You smile to yourself as you take in the sight of your boyfriend, dressed in all black, sporting a smart overcoat, slacks and boots, an extreme contrast to the man who wore his own brightly colored album merch, butterfly patterned pants and Birkenstocks to pick you up from your apartment last night.

A soft “Hey” stirs you from your thoughts and suddenly you’re being pulled into Ash’s tight embrace. “How ya feelin’, baby?” He asks warmly.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You chuckle.

“Only good nerves now, promise,” he reassures you. “But you’re good? Gonna be OK sitting in the crowd with the fans and everything?”

“Hadn’t thought too much about it. I don’t think very many people know about your secret girlfriend yet,” you shrug with a teasing smile.

He shakes his head. “Not secret, just mine.” He pulls you tighter to him to punctuate his point. “But now that WifeSOS has taken you under their wing, if anyone recognizes you from the other shows, it’d be easy to put two and two together.”

“From a dirty groupie to the First Wives Club in a month’s time, truly a Cinderella story,” you giggle, pecking his cheek when he frowns at your joke. “Seriously, babe, I’m fine. Just looking forward to the show… never seen my favorite band play before.”

“Fake fan, I know you only know the underwear song,” he teases, bear hugging you.

You and the girls clear out about a half hour before the band’s set, to give the guys some time alone together before their big moment. You spot more than a few 5SOS shirts in the crowd but nothing could’ve prepared you for the roar of the crowd when the lights go down; the screams and chants are deafening and if you didn’t know for a fact there were other artists on the bill, you’d swear everyone was there just to see your boyfriend’s band.

Ashton is the first onstage and you let out a few extra hoots and hollers yourself - your man looks good. He’s lost the overcoat and his muscular tattooed arms are on full display in a basic blank tank tucked into his tight pants. He kicks off the first song and as the rest of the band joins him, it’s immediately obvious to you how different this show is for him, how different he is. Those other gigs were for fun, something to do, but playing songs he helped write, being behind a kit for this band, backing his boys… this is where he belongs.

Luke pauses in between songs to thank the crowd and you see Ash finally get the chance to look around and take it all in. The look of pride and joy on his face makes every late rehearsal, every frustrated phone call, every burnt omelette this morning worth it. You never would’ve believed he’d be able to find you in the crowd but somehow you feel his eyes lock onto yours and you see the grin on his face spread even wider. It’s a special moment during a special night and you feel so grateful and privileged that he’s chosen you to share it with.

The band is uniformly excellent; it’s clear they all missed being in front of a crowd and are pouring everything they have into their performance. But unsurprisingly, you can’t take your eyes off of Ashton. The energy emanating from him is wild and unrelenting; you’d been impressed by his stage presence before but seeing him command a crowd of this size is something else entirely. He’s like an untamed animal, operating solely on pure instinct, undeniable strength behind every movement of his body. It’s fascinating, it’s overwhelming, it’s… incredibly sexy.

Judging from the shrieks around you, the audience seems to agree. You’ve lost count of how many thirsty comments you’ve overheard about how massive Ash looks and you smirk knowingly at Crystal when she points out that the girls in the row ahead of you all have their cameras trained on him, some specifically zoomed onto his giant biceps at work. His eyes find yours again, with a look that feels a bit more heated than the last, and the girls squeal and swoon, arguing over which one of them he was looking at. You’re surprised to admit a primal thrill runs through you knowing that no one here knows that his look was meant for you, that those huge arms will soon be wrapped around you, that your fingers are moments away from tangling in those sweaty curls. Ashton Irwin, the performer, belongs to them but Ash, the man, he’s spoken for.

After the set, the guys have a short break before they’re needed for the press line and from what you gathered earlier, they’d like to spend it over at the venue’s VIP lounge. Luke intercepts Sierra when you’re almost at the artists’ area and Ash appears to be parting ways with Cal and Mike when you approach the trailer.

Your boyfriend waves you over. “Just wanna put on a clean shirt, maybe dry my hair before we do photos,” he explains brightly. You follow him up the stairs and are immediately enveloped in the sweatiest but possibly most heartfelt hug you’ve ever had the honor of being in. He rambles excitedly, “How’d you like us?! God, it felt so good to be back! It’s weird but it’s good weird. It’s like we never left… but also definitely feels like it’s been forever. I just can’t believe it, I wish we had longer to play.”

He beams at you as you separate. “I wish you did too! You guys are amazing, I can’t wait til I get to see a full show,” you enthuse, basking in the way he always looks at you whenever you mention something in the abstract future. He pulls you into a slow kiss and you almost immediately deepen it, sighing softly, the warmth of his body, the specific scent of his cologne mixed with sweat making you want to drown in him.

“Oh yeah?” Ash says tauntingly, backing you up to lean against the wall of the trailer, spreading teasing kisses along your neck. “Like the show that much, did you?”

“You know, you were a big hit in our section, actually,” you inform him flirtatiously. Your hands explore his body as you continue. “Everyone was talking about how solid your chest looks, how huge your arms are, how tight those pants fit you…”

He grins as you untuck his tank and pull it over his head. “Didn’t have the heart to tell ‘em I was taken?” He fits his thigh between yours, hooking one of your legs on his waist so his touch can explore your skin.

You play with his chest hair as you bat your eyelashes innocently. “They just had no idea that I fell asleep on that firm, broad chest last night... that those big, strong arms were holding me up against your face this morning… that my hands were unzipping those pants on the way here...”

“That I still owe you an orgasm from that car ride over here…” He reminds you, fingers dancing up your thigh to ghost over your clothed center.

You rut against his hand, keeping your eyes trained on his. “Didn’t think to mention that, no,” you breathily play along.

Ashton nods thoughtfully. “I see… so they couldn’t have guessed that you’d be coming back here and I would do this…” He hooks his fingers in your panties and easily rids you of them. “Or that I might get carried away and do this…” Before you can process what’s happening, his hands are gripping behind your knees and he’s lifting you up against the wall, pressing himself against you, letting you feel how hard you’ve made him.

“Mmm…they’ve got no clue,” you sigh as you lean into a heated kiss, his hands kneading your bare ass under your skirt. “But I’m sure they’d be happy to know you are as big and strong as you look up there.” You run your hands up and down his arms appreciatively, squeezing his large, hard biceps to emphasize your point.

The playfully self-satisfied look on his face tells you he’s loving the hype you’re giving his body and you take note of that. A mischievous glint appears in his eyes and you brace yourself for what he’s about to say. “Think everyone’d be jealous to know what a good girl I have all to myself,” he teases, voice dropping specifically on the phrase he noticed you responding to earlier. “Gonna take my cock like a good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

The desire that surges through you is intense and you feel uncontrollable as you roll your hips against him, moaning, “Yes, Ash… god… want you so bad right now… please.”

He gives a low growl, stopping to loudly suck at your neck before nipping at the neckline of your shirt, which you interpret as him requesting its removal. You toss your top aside and he skillfully supports you with one arm while getting his cock out and lining himself up with your entrance. You whimper as he slicks himself through your folds and you can see in his eyes how much he loves knowing that you want him so desperately.

“Hey,” he soothes, pressing his lips to yours. Your tongues passionately move together while your fingers settle in his hair and you feel him enter you. Your lips part but your faces stay close as he pushes inside, the both of you groaning and breathing heavily at the relief of his cock finally filling you after a long day of teasing and wanting.

“Fuck, Ash,” you breathe, head lolling back as he slowly starts to move in you. “Never get enough of that first stretch feeling.”

“Me too, baby,” he agrees with a smile. “Your breath always gets this little hitch in it when I’m close to bottoming out… it’s my favorite… I think about it a lot.”

You let your hands travel down to rub over his shoulders and back as his pace increases. “Just love feeling you… always wanna feel more of you,” you murmur.

“Kinda like this, baby?” Ashton lilts, readjusting his hold on you so he can fuck into you deeper.

You buck against him, trying to meet him thrust for thrust. “Oh my god… Ash… god you just feel so good inside me, babe… fuck,” you ramble, at the mercy of the neediness you’re feeling for him.

He quietly groans your name, burying his head into your chest. His mouth fixates on the tops of your breasts spilling from your bra, biting and sucking at the tender skin. Your head spins from all the sensations overtaking your body and all you can manage to react with is encouraging mewls and tugs of his hair.

He pulls back to admire his work. “Not bad for a fresh face, eh?” He jokes, running his clean shaven face over your tits like he typically would with his beard.

You laugh and the two of you groan at the way it makes you squeeze around him. “Love the effort, miss the scratch,” you admit, stroking his now pouting face. You giggle and point out, “Probably not great to mark me up if we’re trying to be discrete, anyways.”

He shrugs playfully. “How else will you know you’re mine?”

You swallow a whine at him once again claiming you. “Well… you can still mark me… just not where anyone else can see,” you say suggestively, waiting to see if he’ll catch your meaning.

He studies you, his grip on your ass tightening as he considers your words. “Oh?” He says in that same taunting manner, wanting to hear you say it. “Any ideas? Always open to suggestions, dear.”

You chew your lip, affectionately annoyed at his teasing. “You could spank me,” you toss out nonchalantly, waiting to gauge his reaction.

He smirks as he bounces you on his cock. “Look at how well you’re taking me,” he comments, slowing his hips down to demonstrate. “Why would I want to punish such a good girl?” His voice drips with amusement, getting off on your reaction to his continued use of the term.

Every single nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire as he slowly pumps into you. You’re not sure where this confidence or even this request is coming from but you’re thrilled that you’re feeling comfortable enough with him to explore it. You fire back, “Not really a punishment… I’m just saying you keep telling me I’m yours... why don’t you fucking show me?”

A grin you can only describe as devilish blooms across Ash’s face and you cry out in erotic delight as one of his large palms comes down on your ass with an audible smack. He rubs over the strike zone while studying your face closely for any hint of hesitance or pain. “How’s that?” He asks in a voice that somehow feels both firm and gentle.

You match his naughty grin, look him straight in the eyes and tell him, “Harder.”

He follows your instruction and spanks your other cheek harder, drawing an even louder cry from you. He once again immediately soothes your skin, watching your enthusiastic arousal at his roughness. “Fuck, baby,” he mutters, a growl escaping his throat as he ramps up his thrusts to match the force of his hand.

He drives his cock into you harder than he ever has, delivering a few more slaps to your backside for good measure. You’re wetter than you can ever remember being and you’re not sure there are words in the English language fit to describe how fucking amazing he feels in this moment. You pant and whine his name and various expletives while your hands are all over him: tugging at his hair, grabbing at his shoulders, scratching down his back. Anything to try and bring him closer, anything to let him know what he’s making you feel.

“Think I’ve shown you yet, baby?” Ash rasps, clearly struggling to keep it together. “Think you can tell me what you are?”

“Oh god,” you whimper, feeling your orgasm suddenly within reach. “Yours, Ash… I’m fucking all yours.”

You feel your climax building, your pussy starting to throb and then he brings his face to yours and whispers one last “Good girl” and you’re gone. He holds you tight as you shake and writhe, guttural noises you’re not sure you’ve ever heard yourself make pouring from your throat. He grunts and breathes deep as you squeeze around him but he lets you ride it out and take what you need from him.

Needing him near, you pull him into a desperate kiss as your body settles. You feel his hips faltering, his breathing get shaky and you know he must be barely holding on. You pant against his mouth, “Want your cum on me.”

He exhales sharply, caught off guard. “Baby...”

You shake your head and lick at his lips sensually before simply stating, “Show me.”

Ashton moans quietly as he sets you back on the ground, letting himself slip out of you. His cock is red, angry and covered in you. You immediately drop to your knees and reach for him; you stroke him eagerly, leaning in to mouth over his balls. It’s only a matter of seconds before he’s whining for you, yanking you back by your hair so he can properly aim his cock at your skin. You watch through hooded eyes as he hangs his head down, eyes fluttering, lips forming silent curses; his wide chest, shiny with sweat, heaves with effort as his cock jerks in his hand and shoots ribbons of hot cum onto your neck and chest.

You can’t help but moan with him as he works to draw out the final drops and you lean in to collect them on your tongue. You peck tiny kisses up and down his shaft until he cradles your cheek and gently pushes you away.

“Holy fuck, baby,” he sighs, looking down at you in disbelief. He grabs the tissue box off the vanity and gets on his knees to join you. He chuckles as he carefully wipes at the mess on your chest. “We’re gonna be here at least another hour, we probably should’ve thought this through more.”

You shrug. “Wanted it,” you admit, stuffing a tissue into the center of your bra to blot at the cum that made its way down your cleavage. “Needed, even.”

Ash watches fondly as you finish cleaning yourself and when you finally meet his gaze, he takes your face in his hands and kisses you softer than you ever would’ve expected given the sex you just had.

Your fingers trace along his smiling cheeks, traveling down to sink into his dimples. You tease him, “All honesty… this was a lot more fun with the beard.”

He purses his lips, ready to play offended as you giggle. “Ha ha, alright,” he huffs, pulling you to lay on the floor with him, resting you on his chest. His hand gingerly lifts up your skirt. “How’s this going? Now that the adrenaline has worn off…”

You shake your head reassuringly. “It’s fine. Stings a little. Kinda like it, honestly.”

He snorts and kisses your forehead. “We can always put something on it at home,” he mentions.

You close your eyes briefly, dreamily savoring the moment and thinking to yourself how lovely it feels to hear him mention “home” and know he’s picturing you there with him.

You break out of your reverie after a few beats and press some kisses to his chest before sitting up. You laugh, “Should we, like, get you back to your band?”

“Eh, they’ve waited two years, they can wait ten more minutes,” Ashton murmurs, sitting up to rest his chin on your shoulder.

You smile softly, loving how needy he’s being. “Well, what about your adoring public? They don’t know I’m keeping you from them right now.”

Ash shakes his head insistently. “They don’t know the time I’m sharing with them is time I could be spending with you,” he comments, helping you to your feet and wrapping you in his arms. “They don’t know that I’ll fall asleep talking to you tonight… that I’ll burn your breakfast again tomorrow… that I’ll have your scratches down my back in the pictures they take. They don’t know that I’m yours.”

————-

@cxddlyash @cashtonasfuck @talkfastromance4 @camelliastreet @itjustkindahappenedreally @saywhatnow07 @mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @findingliam-o @fedorable-killjoys @trix-arent-for-kids @olivia-foster-irwin @saphseoul @calmsweetcreature @onthecliffside-mgc @feliznavidaddycal @blacktreacles @maggiesupertramp @karajaynetoday @ashtonangst @sunshineeashton @aladyofalbion @youngblood199456 @xsongbirdx @fairytrice @calumrose @irwindoll @polycashton @in-superbloom @2fangirl4u @highstwildflower @t3lkfast @bport76

[thewayshedreamed]

Congrats on the milestone!!! I was wondering if you could write a combination of the prompts 2 (“c’mere, you can sit on my lap until i’m done working.”) and 21 ( “i’m bored. come over and sit on my dick.”) from the smutty prompts for Nessian. Thank you and congrats again <3

Thank you for the prompt and the love, nonnie! I'm not going to lie, I shamelessly abandoned my word count limit for this one. I have no excuse other than I got carried away.

Hope you enjoy! This one's for you, lovely! (and everyone who enjoys a bit of Nessian smut. Except those of you in the gc. Y'all know who you are and why).

—

Nesta hated when Cassian's work ran late, especially when she hadn't seen him in days. She was temporarily placated by their active text exchange that afternoon, complete with work grumblings, friend gossip, and inside jokes. Cassian was her best friend and boyfriend all rolled into one deliciously built package.

His millionth text of the day interrupted her thoughts.

I'm bored.

I'm sorry, she replied. Me too. And I miss you.

Cassian: Miss you too, Sweetheart.

Nesta considered that. He must not have gathered her true meaning given the tone of his reply, but she supposed it was difficult to convey via text. What she meant was that she missed his callouses scraping over her skin, the heat of his kisses against her neck, his weight cradled between her thighs. They were several days overdue.

She typed a quick response to drive her point home. No, babe. I miss you, miss you.

The ellipsis pulsed, disappeared, and pulsed again. Nesta bit her lip to contain her smile. It seemed her boyfriend was on the same page.

Oh? he sent back. Then, almost immediately after, Come over and sit on my dick.

Nesta barked a laugh. Cassian wasn't shy in any capacity, especially in matters of sex, but his text was blunt even by his standards. She would be lying if she claimed it didn't make her core clench in anticipation.

I can't believe that worked, she admitted. Give me 20 minutes.

—

Cassian's door was unlocked when she arrived. Nesta was usually grateful that he worked from home considering the flexibility it offered, but she didn't particularly love how it interfered with her plans for the evening. He was seated at the dining table with his laptop in front of him, sitting on what sounded like a conference call and finishing up whatever data entry he needed to finish.

None of it was conducive to their arrangement.

He mouthed "sorry" over the screen of his computer, shooting her a wink for good measure. Nesta had already considered a number of possibilities on her way over, and the small gesture alone had her skin erupting in goose flesh. She tugged at the hem of her skirt and struggled to get situated on the couch nearby. Comfort seemed a distant goal when every movement she made riled her more.

A true test of her self-control came at hearing Cassian sign off of his call for the day, especially when every muscle in her body was poised to spring off the couch on a moment's notice. Rather than orient directly to her, his focus remained on the screen of his computer. His brows were furrowed in concentration, negating any possibility that he meant to antagonize her.

"You know," she challenged, "I didn't come over here to watch you work the whole time."

He glanced at her through his side eye, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? What did you come over for, Sweetheart?"

Nesta's cheeks burned, but she squared her shoulders. "You'll have to refer back to our texts. It's not my job to remember your promises."

Cassian huffed a laugh and groaned as he leaned back in his chair. With his fingers laced, he reached his hands toward the ceiling in a long stretch. Nesta could see the impressive length tightening his pants, and her mouth went dry. At least she wasn't the only one affected.

He caught her in admiration and shot her a lazy smile. Her eyes trailed the handsome edges of his face, his broad chest.

"C'mere," he rasped. "You can sit on my lap until I'm done working."

His hand reached down to adjust himself, and he hissed against the contact. Nesta felt less self-conscious about her growing need to cross her legs to relieve some of the tension. Her voice was low, sultry.

"I didn't come over to sit on your lap either, Cassian."

His gaze darkened, his hand sliding beneath the waistband of his pants. "Then get over here and do as I told you."

A shiver ran down her spine. She sat transfixed by the movement of his hand and how he finally freed himself from his pants. Every part of her burned to touch him. The command in his voice had been her undoing; all good sense, gone. Her legs shook through her journey to close the space between them, but he didn't seem to notice.

Cassian groaned his approval as she straddled his lap, his large hand moving in a long stroke up and down his length. Nesta's position allowed him full access beneath her skirt, and he cursed under his breath when he realized she wore nothing underneath. Their lips crashed together, Nesta's hands poised against his shoulders. Cassian wrapped his arm around her waist to lift her over his cock and allowed gravity alone to ease her down until her hips sat flush against his.

Nesta moaned, desperate for friction. Her hips canted automatically until Cassian's rough voice and strong hands stopped her in her tracks.

He tutted his disapproval. "I never said you could move, Sweetheart. I still have work to finish."

"Cass," she whined, unashamed of her arousal. "Please."

"I'll take care of you, I promise." He pressed a kiss behind her ear, reaching behind her to resume his work. "For now, keep things warm for me, baby."

Nesta whimpered and gripped his shoulders. How could he ask that of her? Another couple of minutes, and her hips would be rolling whether she offered them permission or not. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the sound of the keys working behind her.

But then she was thinking about his deft fingers, how they wrought pleasure from her in immeasurable ways. How his hands always knew where she needed firm pressure of a delicate, teasing touch to—

"Nesta," Cassian warned, his voice hoarse. "What did I tell you about moving?"

He nipped her ear in warning. She forced her hips to settle, silently cursing them for their betrayal. The last thing she needed was Cassian holding out on her any longer.

"Sorry," she gritted out, "I'm— I don't know." Her mind was all over the place, reduced to some primitive by the need between her legs.

He made no moves to remove her from his cock, and she breathed a sigh of relief. His fingers resumed their work, but they would no longer serve to distract her in the process. She needed to think of something less promising, but she came up empty any time she tried.

Cassian added insult to injury, running his nose up and down the length of her neck. Nesta opened up for him, careful not to move her lower body in the process for fear that he would pull away. His lips left a path of soft kisses where his nose had left fire in its wake, and Nesta was a single kiss away from snapping altogether.

"Fuck," he rasped. Her hold tightened on him at the sound of his voice. There wasn't a thing about the man that didn't affect her. "Nesta, you're—" He paused to gather his wits, buried his forehead against her neck. "You're dripping."

To her horror, she realized he was right. Her arousal coated her inner thighs and the skin just above where their bodies came together. She was making an all out mess in her boyfriend's lap, and he had yet to move.

Nesta moaned, tilting her head back to encourage his affections against her neck. "Please hurry," she breathed. "I've done what you asked. Please."

Cassian growled against her skin. How he always reduced her to a begging, pleading mess was beyond her. There wasn't another aspect of her life where she resorted to it, but for him, she would do it shamelessly.

He placed another path of kisses, rougher this time, down the side of her neck and over her collarbones. When he refocused his attention on his work, Nesta let her forehead hit his broad shoulder. Her fingers were white-knuckled against him as she fought her most base urges.

Blessedly, she heard some clicking of the trackpad behind her. In another number of seconds, Cassian stood to lay her roughly atop the table. His hands explored her body, gripping her possessively in all the right places until she was a writhing mess, his order be damned.

"So eager." He moved to grip her wrists in his hand, pinning them over her head. The other gripped her thigh at his side. "Go on, then. Fuck me, Nesta."

She didn't need to be told twice. Her hips rolled against him, taking him deeper than before. Her feet pressed into the strong muscles of his ass in encouragement, but he remained still while he watched their bodies come together. Nesta couldn't think beyond his name rolling from her lips and how badly she needed more, more, more. Before she could say as much, Cassian's restraint snapped.

He widened his stance, spreading her legs farther apart and changing their angle. His hand left her thigh in favor of pressing a supportive arch to the small of her back, his hips snapping roughly into hers.

They dissolved into a symphony of muttered curses and groans. Nesta cried out her pleasure when her release barreled through her, earning a string of praise from Cassian.

"That's it. You're so tight around my cock, Sweetheart," he murmured, his breath leaving him in huffs with each punishing thrust. His eyes snapped up to hers, and she fought to keep her heavy lids open for him. His brow was drawn together in pleasure, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. Fighting his release was wearing on him, and Nesta could tell he wouldn't be far behind her.

"Gods," he ground out. "You were so good for me, baby. You know that?"

His thrusts came faster, and Nesta cried out. Another world-shattering orgasm was close, so close, when she hadn't thought it possible so soon. Cassian noticed when her pleasure ratcheted up once more, and a look of determination crossed his handsome face. He slid his hand from her back, and pressed it to her lower abdomen, using his thumb to draw broad circles around her clit.

Her hands fought against his grip, but to no avail. She wanted to touch him, to drag her hands all over his body and run them through his hair. More than that, she thought she would need to secure her body against his to ride out another wave of pleasure like the one before.

"Pleasedon'tstop," she muttered, her eyes screwed shut.

"I won't," he promised, his hips pressing into hers and making her dizzy. "Not until that pretty pussy comes for me again."

It took only seconds for Cassian to get his wish. Nesta's cries echoed off the walls of his small apartment, her body shaking through the aftershocks of her release. His hips slammed home when he met his own, his large frame leaning over her body as he spilled inside her.

Once he released her hands, Nesta moved them to his shoulders to draw idle patterns over his skin. Cassian lifted his head to press a kiss to her mouth before separating them and standing to right their clothes. They surveyed the area, how his work was scattered about and his cup of water lay spilled over the floor nearby, and broke out into laughter.

"What am I going to do with you?" he teased, pulling her against his chest in a hug.

Nesta hummed, her first thought sliding past her lips. "Love me."

Cassian placed a kiss to her hair. "Yeah," he murmured. "I will."

[ronnieiswriting]

Sweet Dreams- Boxer!Paz x Baker!Freader

Inspired by the events of Foul (following straight after) and the Boxer Din AU created and written by the wonderful, amazing, brilliantly talented @djarinsbeskar! WC: 1,641 Tags: 18+, mentions of smut, its a smutty AU ya'll know the drill, sickeningly sweet fluff I have been driven to write this to deal with all my Paz thots- it will become very clear that I make up for the fact that I can't write hot smut by writing the softest shit. Excuse the lack of editing, also, its quite the mess x

After Din had stormed off with his “not-girlfriend” at Avika, Paz was more than ready to go home right then and there, thoroughly unwanting to deal with the feral frenzy that Din had stirred up in and out the ring. But there was no doubt that there would be more calls for blood. And even if that weren’t the case- even if Din wasn’t on the lists tonight- Paz had to stay.

It was his job after all. And one he enjoyed more often than not.

But when he thought about you, Paz’s priorities became trivial- like dust in the wind.

He hadn’t been dating you for long but he already knew that he was in deep. To Paz, you were the one that hung the stars in the sky; you, a hardworking baker with a smile that made his heart ache and hips that made his cock twitch. It was love, the realest he’d ever found, and every day he swore his gratitude to whatever force had sent him to you.

It was almost a taunt to watch Din leave Avika with his “not-girlfriend” tucked into his side- he’d been disqualified from any more fights that night but he couldn’t look any less content about it- when Paz had to stay behind with nothing but the thoughts of you waiting for him back at his place to keep him company.

To pass a bit of time between the words that were being exchanged between Boba and Din’s opponent’s trainer, Paz checked his phone- his mood instantly brightened when he saw a notification from you.

From: Sugar Cookie💖

Hey babe, I just got home. Did you feed Kitty yet? He’s begging me for food rn but I know he’s probs got a full belly and is just being a little gobble guts lol. sent 4:13am

I gave him a tinyyy bit of kibble to hold him over in case you didn’t. Kitty knows I can’t resist him. Sorry for messaging you at work btw. I know you’re busy xx Love you xx sent 4:19am

Paz checked the current time. 5:30am. Shit. He must’ve missed the buzz of the notification amidst the chaos. Usually, your shifts at the bakery ended closer to midnight but he knew you to be a hard worker, proud of the bakery you ran by yourself, and always likely to get caught up in a task until it was done to a high standard. It was just another thing for Paz to love about you.

His thumbs hovered over the reply box; you had probably already gone to bed, exhausted from your own long day of work. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb you but he pushed past that doubt a second later, typing out a response, softened when he reread your messages about his kitten.

“Vizsla!” Boba’s voice pulled him back into reality. “Are you listening at all? This does concern you.”

Paz managed an easy half-lie, fingers tapping away as he switched contacts and began typing another message, “I’m sending Din a text- trying to figure out what started all this.”

…

When Paz finally did get home it was pushing 8am. Expecting to find you curled up in his bed, comfortably asleep, he was shocked to see you as soon as he opened the door to his apartment. You were propped up against a wall of cushions on his couch with a book resting in your lap and his kitten snoozing on your chest. Head thrown back and peacefully still, he could tell you were fast asleep.

Just the sight of you, the shape of your body outlined by the drape of the blanket that was thrown over you, your features illuminated by the warm light of the lamp, the splay of your hair over the pillows- just looking at you relieved him of so much of the stress he had carried home. His eyes traced over your form, picking out the dip and curve of your hips, and he was struck again with the amount of love he had for you. He still couldn’t believe how quickly he had developed such deep feelings for you but that fact made them no less sincere. The softness and simple intimacy (whether that be primarily sexual or emotional) that your company alone promised never ceased to amaze him.

Trying to be as quiet as he could manage, Paz shut the door behind him, put his backpack down by the door, and crossed the room to kneel down at your side. He considered leaving you there for the rest of the night- if he did he could go take a nap and then come back and wake you up by eating you out before making you breakfast- but ultimately he wanted to, needed to sleep next to you… and he couldn’t manage that on the couch.

He got the best sleep when you stayed the night, your chest made a far better pillow and your arms though relatively small provided him with so much warmth that he would be more than content to sleep without any covers (which happened sometimes when you hoarded the blankets).

Paz let out a silent sigh and reached out to stroke the hair away from your face. You stirred in response and he leaned in to press a kiss to your nose, “Hey, baby, it’s just me.”

You let out a soft moan, eyes scrunching up before blinking open, looking up at him blearily, “Paz~”

His heart could have burst at the sound of your gentle voice laden with sleep. Carefully so as not to disturb your place, Paz eased the book from your fingers. The exhaustion was palpable on your face, the weight of many hours of work pulling at the edges of your eyes. “I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

You eased yourself up on the cushions, one hand bracing the kitten against your chest. “I wanted to stay up for you. I didn’t mean to doze off.” Fuck. Paz was slipping his arms under you faster than you could process and when he stood you were tucked against his chest, kitten, blanket and all. You didn’t even seem bothered by the shift, curling your fingers into the neckline of his shirt. The simple touch drove him wild- the burn of your warm skin against his throat like a blowtorch- and the fact that you seemed oblivious to that only made him ache for you more.

When he had gotten you halfway to the bedroom you spoke again in that voice that threatened sleep, “I would've been able to stay up for you if I didn’t have to spend three hours on a last minute order for a wedding cake.”

Paz opened the door with his hip. “You don’t have to say yes to every job you know.”

“I know- but the couple was so sweet, I couldn’t say no. Plus they paid me double and half on top because of the short notice.”

He laid you out on the bed and replaced the throw blanket with his thick quilt, kitten moving to curl up beside your head on the pillow. The comfortable setting was luring you quickly to sleep again but you were still determined to see him next to you before you shut your eyes again fully. When he didn’t immediately join you, you frowned.

Paz eased the crease in your brow with a kiss there, “Don’t pout, sweetheart. I just gotta take a shower.” He could have skipped one for now, knowing you wouldn’t protest his sweaty skin, but he wanted to be rid of the flecks of blood that had stuck to him, everything that had stuck to him from that ring, before he touched you. You started to protest but Paz silenced you with a searing kiss to your lips, “I won’t be long, I promise.”

If he had thought you would be back asleep by the time he finished he was fooling himself. You scooched backwards on the mattress and petted the space you made in front, “come here.”

Paz went willingly, instantly. He eased back the covers and shuffled in next to you, clad only in a pair of boxers, hands instantly finding your skin to greedily palm the warmth that radiated from you. You cozied up to him just as naturally, arms wrapping around his neck so that he could tuck his face against the crook of your neck. With the covers pulled over the both of you, Paz felt surrounded by your presence and it calmed any remaining stress he had.

Although he had reprimanded Din for taking a violent approach to defending a woman’s honor, Paz couldn’t deny the fact that he’d be just as likely to take a similar action if anyone spoke about you like that- just thinking about those vile, entitled words directed at you made his jaw clench subconsciously. And yet just as soon as that anger stirred up in him, it dissipated again, soothed by the thump of your heart against his chest and the delicate fan of air you puffed over his damp skin.

He was reminded of the first time he told you he loved you; not long ago, in the middle of a good hard fuck when he had you by the hip, lost in the emotion of your eyes to the point where his confession had come out as a babble that became a mantra that he punctuated with each thrust of his hips. You had been on the verge of tears then, overstimulated and shaking, when you returned the words to him from your own lips: I love you too.

“I love you.” Paz whispered.

You snuggled against him tighter, a sleepy sigh escaping you when his hands ran up and down your sides. “I love you too.”

[demigodreading]

Saving Mini Benson Pt:1

Request: From @youngjusticeimaginesus​:  Hi, I was wondering If maybe you'd be willing to do a oneshot where Olivia's daughter gets kidnapped by Lewis instead of Olivia?

Summary: That’s right my favorite peoples... This is going to be a two part mini series because there was no way everything that I needed to say could be done in a one-shot! I won’t go into much because I don’t want to give it away but please note THIS PART IS A DOOZY! The next one may be worse but still this arc made me cry in the show and I cried writing this

Characters: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro, William Lewis, Donald Cragen, Reader

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Daughter! Reader

Warnings: MAJOR Violence, Guns, Cigarette Burns, Episode Spoilers, Alcohol, Smoking Weed, Mentions of Shootings, Death, William Lewis, Mentions of torture... (I Think that covers it but if it doesn’t please let me know)

Word Count: 2320 (Like I said.. there was no way this was gonna be just a oneshot.)

And with that all being said: Let’s jump into it.

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Olivia and her daughter rarely fought but when they did neither one wanted to admit the other one was right. Olivia loved and hated her daughter for being so similar to her. Even now as she watched the miniature version of herself stalk the interview room the exact same way she would send her heart racing. Usually the similarities would result in a smile but not today. Today Olivia’s vision was a deep red as she confronted her daughter.

“Y/N you were caught smoking weed underneath the bleachers during class! So not only did you break one rule you broke two!” Olivia shouted, folding her arms.

“Wow glad that you know how to count,” Y/N mumbled looking out the window.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Look mom I just don’t get what the big deal is? It was one joint. One class!” Y/N retorted, throwing her hands up, “I am a straight A student who has a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

“Yes, because Barba stuck his neck out on the line for you and put in a glowing recommendation,” Olivia spat, “What you did was careless. You could have ruined everything that was given to you.”

“You know for once in your life could you ever be fucking proud of me! I do everything that I can do to make you proud and yet at the end of the day I am never fucking good enough for you.”

“That’s not…” Olivia went to argue but was interrupted by Cragen opening the door.

“Olivia we got a problem. I need you right now,” He said, then shut the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just go save another poor unfortunate soul mom. Don’t worry about your daughter.  I’ll pick up my own pieces like I always do,” Y/N said, wiping tears from her face as she grabbed her coat.

Y/N stormed from the room before Olivia could stop her. She made her way through the precinct eyes trained to the floor as her mother’s voice rang out, “You better head straight home Y/N!  We are not done having this conversation and you are grounded!”

Choosing not to say anything, Y/N merely raised her hand in the air flipping her mother off before the doors shut with a loud slam behind her. Tears made dark spots on the concrete as Y/N made her way back to their apartment. Even the noises of the constant car honks and people screaming couldn’t drown out the voices in her head today. Failure. Waste of space. Stupid. No one. Unwanted. Unloved. 

It was the repeated song that kept her feet moving forward until she finally placed her key in the lock. She threw her bag by the kitchen island and threw her keys on the counter. She was about to turn on the living room light when a noise caught her attention. 

“Hello? Hello?”

As she turned the corner her vision was filled with the sight of a gun pointed right at her temple. A smirk crossed William Lewis’ face as he looked at Y/N, “Ah welcome home Little Benson. I was hoping that it would be your mother who was walking through the door but I guess you will have to do.”

Y/N went to scream but instead Lewis jammed the gun against her throat, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One small slip of my finger and your mom will be left with a new kind of art all over her walls.”

Y/N let a single tear roll down her face before Lewis’ gun made contact with her skull and the whole world went black.

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Olivia had already tried to call Y/N twice but it kept going straight to voicemail. The last known location had been their apartment so at least she had the sense to head straight home. The guilt in Olivia’s stomach was insurmountable. Watching her daughter explain that she never felt like she lived up to her standards. Olivia had promised herself when she had Y/N she would never end up like her mother. Yet there she was shaming her child for one mistake. Y/N was more than just a good kid, she was excellent. She was smart, beautiful, humorous, kind, and so much more. She was everything Olivia could have ever hoped for. Knowing that her daughter thought she wasn’t proud was the worst pain she could have.

After the third call Olivia finally decided to leave a voicemail, “Y/N I know you are mad but I need you to know something. I am proud of you and will always be proud of you. You are the best daughter and the most amazing human. I was rough on you early. Please let’s talk through this. I’ll be home soon with your favorite Chinese. Just don’t do anything stupid? I love you.”

When she hung up the phone she placed her head in her hands and let out a large sigh. Fin placed a reassuring hand on her back, “Liv, it is going to be okay. She is just being a teenager.”

“No Fin, you should have seen her. It was like I was physically taking her heart out and ripping it in front of her. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean any of them… I was just upset.”

“She knows, they always know.”

Olivia merely shook her head and began to gather her things to head home. She walked out of the precinct without a goodbye and headed down the street to Y/N’s favorite Chinese place. They knew what she was going to order as soon as she walked in the door asking where Y/N was. Liv pushed off their question and scrolled through her phone as she waited for the food. Y/N’s phone was still off giving Olivia an eerie feeling as she finished the walk to the apartment. 

Once inside she noticed Y/N’s bag on the floor and her keys on the counter. There was a sudden rush of cold air that made her notice the window that was open to the fire escape. She shut it quickly and then moved to Y/N’s room. The door was still open with everything the way she had left it that morning. Once her calls were unanswered Olivia opened the window again crawling onto the fire escape. Sometimes Y/N would go to the roof to watch the sun slowly crawl behind the buildings.When she reached the top however she was met with an unsettling emptiness. 

Olivia reached for her phone to call the only person who was able to calm her anxiety lately, “Amaro, Y/N isn’t here. I can’t find her. What if something happened to her?”

“She probably just went to a friend’s house to get away,” Amaro replied stirring the contents of his drink, “She will be back in the morning just to relax. Sleep off the anger and come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

Liv pondered this suggestion over and over deciding what she should do. When the silence became too long Amaro interjected again, “Liv, I’m serious. You two had the biggest blow out that I have seen in awhile. Give her time to be mad at you and think. If you smother her she might only push further away from you.” She thanked her partner for the advice and then shoved her phone back in her pocket taking a sweep of the roof once again. Finally she slowly made her way back to the apartment shutting the window with a slam before locking it. Olivia wandered over to the kitchen moving the cereal that covered the top of the fridge to get to her secret cupboard. From the opening she pulled a large bottle of her favorite red wine. She popped the cork and decided to forgo a cup taking a long swig directly from the green glass. A large sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down on the couch going over the events of the day in her head.

As the contents of the bottle slowly drained till there was nothing else Olivia realized her fears were all coming true. She was becoming her mother. A woman she never once wanted to be. Three empty bottles later she finally curled under Y/N’s sheets crying into her pillow until she finally was able to fall asleep.

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The next morning when Y/N did not return and her phone was still shut down all bets were off. Olivia was furious but more importantly she was terrified. Something was horribly wrong. Her morning was spent talking to Y/N’s two best friends and searching their houses for her. When that search was unsuccessful Olivia went to the school hoping Y/N had gone there. However, she had been absent all day and there hadn’t even been a call to excuse her from the day. 

When the morning bled into the afternoon Olivia was running around the city to all of Y/N’s usual hangout spots. The search of the library told her that Y/N hadn’t been there in over a week. The local bakery hadn’t seen her in three days. The coffee shop where Y/N always bought Olivia’s coffee when she came to see her at work had seen her two mornings ago but nothing since then. Even the old lady that had Y/N over twice a week to help her with errands and chores around the house hadn’t seen her. 

It was dark by the time that Olivia fell into her desk chair at the precinct. With her head in her hands she let the tears fall. A whole day was gone and there was still no sign of her daughter. If she had been kidnapped they were running out of time and losing it quickly. The longer she was out there the longer the person had to get away with whatever they wanted.

The squad huddled around in Cragen’s office looking at Olivia curled over her desk. Rollins was the first one to speak, “I bet you Lewis has something to do with this.”

“And what makes you think that?” Amaro asked, “There are plenty of people who could have a vendetta against Liv.”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah well have you ever considered the idea that maybe Y/N just ran away,” Amaro retorted.

Fin, Cragen, and Amanda all turned towards Amaro, shocked. Cragen was the first one to speak, “I know you haven’t been here long Amaro but this isn’t Y/N. Something is horribly wrong and we are going to figure out what is going on. Fin and Amanda go check out Lewis’ usual hiding spots. I’ll take Liv through her apartment once again to see if we missed anything.”

“And me cap?”

“Amaro… you stay here and set up a tip line,” Cragen responded curtly and then they all disappeared to find where Y/N had disappeared to.

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Y/N woke with a jolt as she felt cold water splash her face. She was met with Lewis staring only a couple inches away from her face. He grinned and grabbed Y/N’s chin as she tried to look away, “Well well there. Looks like someone is finally awake. Feeling thirsty?”

Y/N nodded her head yes waiting to scream as he curled his fingers around the edge of the duct tape. As he was about to pull it away he jammed a gun against Y/N’s throat, “Make any noise and I will shove this gun straight down your throat.”

Finally when he pulled the tape away Y/N spit right in his face, “Just shoot me already if you are going to threaten me with it.”

“And miss out on all of our fun Mini Benson. I think not. There is plenty that I want to do to you before then.”

Y/N began to panic as Lewis lit another cigarette. She remembered the way the others had burned against her chest and sides. She had lost count after twenty perfect circle burns and after the second pistol whip to the face she had passed out a second time, She couldn’t go through all of that again.

“My mom knows I am missing and she will be out looking for me. Just let me go and she will never have to know that you did it. Please,” YN begged.

“What is she going to think about that bruise on your face? Or the marks on your skin? I can’t let you go… plus I know that you both fought before you came home. I bet you that she thinks you just ran away and are leaving her,” Lewis chuckled.

“How.. how did you know that we fought?

“This lovely voicemail your mother left you,” Lewis said, placing your phone against your ear.

Tears began to run down Y/N’s face as she heard the apology her mother had sent her. Damnit! Why did I have to fight with her? We could have avoided all of this. Is the mantra that ran through her head as Lewis slammed the phone against her head and threw it at the wall.

“She isn’t coming for you,” Lewis snickered.

“Please… just let me go. I will do anything.”

Lewis pulled his gun and placed it against Y/N’s scalp, “You are still bargaining with me? Really. We are way past that baby.”

“I am the daughter of an NYPD detective. A decorated well known detective. My mother, her partner, her squad, the entire department will hunt you down. You think that you’ve put people through hell. It will rain back down on you.”

“You know what… let it rain,” Lewis said and then hit Y/N once again making her world go black for a third time.