#flufftober2024

Standard Blog Rules & FAQ

Addendum: We do not allow AI creations of any kind.

(Due to previous asks, we made sure to add more points to this section - while they're not new rules, they're newer to this list, so you'll find them colored green)

No inc*st or p*dophilia - we can’t keep you from writing it or creating art for it but it won’t be reblogged. No inc*st: This rule does not apply to distant cousins and such, as you might find in the LotR fandom (or basically in all of European Monarchy). The line we draw is at direct blood relations (siblings, parents, kids) and/or legal guardianship. No p*dophilia: This rule does not rule out fandoms that feature teenagers such as Harry Potter, Heartstoppers, Hunger Games, etc. It also doesn't mean you can't write about their time together as teenagers! It's aimed at ships in which one is a minor and the other is not - but since even that has grey areas, the rule is this: if you keep it SFW, all is good and allowed, we don't care; if it turns NSFW, be mindful of the legalities of the world/society/times your characters live in.

No hate or ship bashing - we’re all different and we all love different things. As long as it doesn’t go against rule #1, it’s allowed.

Tag correctly! Trigger warnings (including cheating!), ships, ratings, (pure) smut, etc - it’s all fine as long as you tag it.

There’s absolutely no word count restriction, write as little or as much as you like.

In regards to art, anything goes: drawings, paintings, collages, mood boards, gif sets, videos, playlists… the sky’s the limit (though not really…). If you would like to create a podfic, the fic you're using does not have to be new - your creation will be new!

You can mix and mash different mediums however you like, be it within one prompt or on different days.

While we can’t force you to write fluff or create fluffy art, please try to keep in mind that this is a fluff event 😉 that, of course, doesn't mean you can't combine it with angsty/whumpy prompts - hurt/comfort is absolutely welcome!

You can start creating as soon as you see this - but please refrain from posting before the respective day.

If you post early, we will schedule your post for the correct day; if you use multiple prompts in one creation, we will post on the earliest day you used.

You can participate on as many days as you like, even if it’s just one; you can also create multiple entries for the same day.

You can replace as many original prompts as you like with our prompt extras; you can also combine them with the original prompts or create for them in addition, that's completely up to you.

It’s okay to write one story/a series for all the prompts.

You do not have to stick to one character, ship, or even one fandom - switch as often as you like to or even write for multiple ships for one day.

The ship does not have to be a romantic one! Friendship and family feels are more than welcome (but this is not a way to get around rule #1!)

Original works as well as OCs in fandoms are welcome! But please make sure to mark these clearly, either in the tags or the post itself. We're not familiar with all fandoms (though we're definitely learning a lot!), so we're not always sure what might be an OC and what might be such an unknown side character not even Google can find them...

Reader insert fics (for example "character x reader") as well as RPFs are absolutely allowed.

Other languages are also welcome - just make sure to clearly mark the day and fandom so that we can still easily reblog.

This event can be combined with other events as long as the other event allows it.

Late entries are always welcome, even if it is months or years later.

All fandoms and ships are welcome - fanon and canon - as long as they’re of age (in case you want to add smut) and not related.

Posting

Posting to tumblr

Please use the tag #flufftober2024 Please make sure there is NO SPACE between flufftober and 2024! We will NOT be checking the other tag this year!

Since tags are sometimes wonky, make sure to also mention us with @flufftober in your post

We will try to catch them all, but please don't be mad if we miss a post or if it gets reblogged a bit late

If you're absolutely certain a post has slipped past us, feel free to send an ask with the link to your post

To make reblogging easier for us, make sure to add the following tags: #flufftober2024 #day [xy] #[fandom] #[ship and/or main character(s)]

If you're using a prompt extra tag it as #alt [number]

Posting to ao3

You can add your creation to the collection Flufftober 2024 (either as flufftober2024 or as flufftober_2024)

Late entries are always welcome, on tumblr as well as the ao3 collection! Neither will close - but like always, reblogs will become less regular the more months have passed...

Prompts

1. Lost Pet Meet Cute

2. “Left. Other left!”

3. Favorite Scent

4. Market Day

5. Acorn, Chestnut, Pine Cone

6. Mistaken Identity

7. Hoodie Weather

8. Chopping & Piling Wood

9. “Don’t do that!” - “But…”

10. Bet, Game, Contest

11. Ingredients & Spells

12. “This is spooky.” - “Really?”

13. Attic, Cellar, Hidden Room

14. Fantasy AU/Mundane AU

15. “What are you wearing?” - “It’s laundry day!”

16. Yes, No, Maybe

17. Only One Bed

18. Bewitched

19. Yarn

20. Paw

21. Bonfire

22. Heirloom

23. Stormy Night

24. Comfort Food

25. Haunted House

26. “I can’t find it.”

27. Afternoon Stroll

28. Lucky Charm

29. Time Capsule

30. “Forever?”

31. Make a Wish

Prompt Extras

Last Year's Favorites

Alt 1: “I’ve got you”

Alt 2: Rainy Day

Alt 3: “Wait you love me?” - “I always have”

Alt 4: “I hate it” - “No, you don’t”

Alt 5: Porch Swing

Challenge "Make it Fluffy!"

Alt 6: Gravestone

Alt 7: Getting Revenge

Alt 8: Written but never sent

Alt 9: Suddenly Severed Communication

Alt 10: Rejected, Betrayed, Exiled, Left Behind

Zemo hadn’t known what to expect when the door to your apartment opened but it certainly wasn’t instantaneous infatuation. You were a friend of Sam and Bucky’s and somehow, somehow, got roped into helping them hide him. Despite the initial feelings of scepticism and meticulously planning his escape from the dingy apartment building, when you opened the door it all changed.

You were stood in your pajamas, rubbing your eyes, speaking in a soft sleepy voice that alluded to you either just about ready to fall asleep or you had just woken up. Zemo was staring and he knew it. Even though you hadn’t looked at him yet, you were the picture of perfection with your slightly tousled hair and the disgruntled expression you were giving Sam as he explained what was going on. When your e/c eyes finally flickered over to him, finally meeting his eyes, he felt his breathing stop.

“You better come in,” you sighed, stepping aside and allowing them inside your small apartment.

You immediately headed to the small kitchen-cum-living room, turning on your kettle and grabbing mugs.

“Tea? Coffee? Food?” You fire off questions in rapid succession but Sam nor James pay attention to you. They’d began a hushed conversation about ideas and plans in your living room. Zemo looked over to you and was surprised to see you were looking directly at him. He felt like a deer in headlights. He was at a loss for words. For once.

You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “You... want anything?”

Zemo clears his throat and stiffly approaches the counter top that seperates the two of you. “Tea will do. Thank you.”

“I have earl grey and English breakfast,” You say, holding up the two boxes. “What would you prefer?”

Zemo blinks, his throat dry. “Earl grey, please.”

“Sugar and milk?”

Zemo only nods and watches as you turn away to prepare the tea. Surely, you knew he was dangerous? Surely, you had seen the news from years before? Surely, you knew you shouldn’t turn your back to him?

But you had. And Zemo was helplessly lost in you whilst the hushed conversation of Bucky and Sam drifted around the apartment. He couldn’t remember when he had last felt this way. It had been a long time, that’s for sure.

After five minutes you turn around with two mugs in your hand and slide one to Zemo. He carefully lifts the mug to his mouth and sips, relishing the sleepy warmth of the lavender drink. His tongue darts across his lips, something else is in the drink, making it ever so slightly sweeter. You register his expression and offer him a small, sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I think I’ve given you mine. I always add a dash of vanilla syrup.”

Vanilla. Zemo’s eyes widen but he smiles and nods. “An excellent combination.”

Your smile brightens. Zemo thinks his knees might give out; that smile lights up your entire living room and you’re not even trying. He should be trying to manipulate you, make you uncomfortable; not nervously running sweaty palms on his slacks or being tongue tied. And you should be cold and harsh, threatening to maim him like Bucky or Sharon not warm, friendly and inviting.

“Have you ever tried an Edinburgh Mist?” You ask, eyes brightening with each passing second. Zemo briefly wonders if it's because your friends, the ones who have barely spoken with you, the ones who have landed a fugitive terrorist into your hands, have never bothered to indulge in the beauty that was you. He shakes his head gently, watching you speak.

“It’s like the cocktail London Fog but an actual hot drink.” You explain. “it’s earl grey with vanilla, with foamed milk and dusted with cinnamon. I loved it so much I had to start making it at home.”

Zemo finds himself smiling  over the rim of his mug at you. He hums in response, nodding a little before adding, “I may have to trouble you for one when you have the chance.”

You scoff a little, suppressing what looks to be a blush and Zemo’s heart does a flip. Unfortunately, you’re both torn away by Sam and Bucky wanting to talk strategy.

The next few days feel like a dream.

Zemo practically follows you around like a love sick puppy, offering to help with everything he can. Laundry. Cooking. Cleaning. Each time you dismiss him, citing that he is a guest in your home and will be treated as such. Your mother didn’t raise you to be unwelcoming.

When it’s clear he doesn’t really know what to do with himself, you roll your eyes and pretend you’re so hard done by with the lack of help you recieve from Bucky and Sam, that you’ll gladly take Zemo’s company instead. Which he humbly (albeit very enthusiastically) accepts.

As you do chores, you chat about anything and everything. His favourite books, your favourite shows, his music taste, your favourite foods. Whilst you cook he watches eagerly, asking inquisitive questions and occasionally teasing gently to make you laugh. Part of your brain believes it to be a ploy, as does Sam and Bucky. Some grand manipulation that they had warned you he was capable of. But somehow you doubted it. There was something about how he made you laugh, how he always acted the gentleman and offered his help, something about the softness in his eyes that you knew he meant every word he spoke and action he did.

Perhaps that was what caused the argument between you and Sam.

“He’s a terrorist,” Sam snapped at you on the fifth day. Bucky was out and Zemo was in the shower, making it an opportune time to discuss the behaviour Sam had witnessed over the last few days. “And a master manipulator. You should not trust him.”

“God forbid men have hobbies.” You quip. Then seeing Sam's frown you sigh.

"On a technicality, you are too." You point out, scrubbing at a dish violently. Anger had bubbled inside you at the subtle accusation that you were falling for a manipulation, especially when said terror had been placed in your lap. “You brought him here as well.” You huff with agitation.

It was Sam’s turn to huff. “You don’t get it. He’s dangerous.”

You slam the scourer down and glare at Sam. “No, you’re not getting it. You brought him here. Hell, yesterday you and Bucky went out and left me with him for hours.”

Sam opens his mouth and closes it again, at a loss for words. He knows he can’t argue against that and he knows damn well better than to try.

“Just... be careful. Okay?” He grumbles, heading to the spare room. “That’s all I ask.”

Once the door is closed you roll your eyes and turn back to the sink, haughtily mimicking Sam’s words. You startle when you hear Zemo chuckle from behind you.

“Apologies,” He murmurs, looking over  at you with a smug smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Whether or not it was his intention, you know that he isn’t sorry about it at all and it makes you smirk back. As with everything the last few days, you can’t seem to find yourself to be genuinely upset with him.

“It’s alright,” you sigh, drying your hands. “Tea?”

“Please, dragă.”  

You blush at the use of the nickname, but turn away quickly. This was another ritual that had formed in the last few days, and you would be lying if you didn’t enjoy the sweet nickname he’d given you and the way his honeyed eyes followed your movements. You didn’t want to tell him you knew the meaning. That you’d briefly dabbled in learning Sokovian. Something about him using his native tongue to compliment you, believing you had no idea what he was saying as  he looked  at you,  made your heart beat faster and your fondness for him grow. Again, this only made arguments of him manipulating you weaker; why say things to you that you couldn’t understand? Quick compliments or praise in a foreign language he thought only he could speak, muttered under his breath that made your resolve crumble apart like a cookie dipped in hot  tea. You couldn’t deny that he had charm but something else drew you to him. It was like you were under a spell and the thought that he may have to leave soon was too much to bare.

“You know,” Zemo started, voice quiet. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the countertop. “I’ve noticed that they don’t appreciate you, dragă.”

You turn, eyebrows high, mid-stir of the teas. “What?”

Zemo’s eyes drop to his hands. “Perhaps I am out of line,” he says carefully. “But you are correct in that all of us being here was sprang on you. Yet you welcomed us, even me, into your home without hesitation. You have cooked meals, offered your shower, home and did laundry... and only once or twice I have heard a thank you.” He looks up, meeting your eyes with his. His expression is soft, almost apologetic. “So, thank you, dragă.”

You blink at him, slightly shocked. So, he’d overheard your argument with Sam. He could’ve taken a different route; planting seeds of doubt about your friendship with the heroes, allowing tendrils of resentment to grow and blossom into anger. However, he hadn’t. Zemo had only pointed out the truth of the current situation; you had accepted the bizarre situation to help your friends and hopefully the betterment of the world without question and without thanks. Your mouth opened to defend Sam and Bucky, but your mind faltered trying to find an example from the last few days.

In fact, Bucky had grumbled his thanks of a coffee once and Sam for his food once. Zemo had been trying to help you for the past five days and somehow always managed to thank you and compliment you. Heat rushed to your cheeks and you snapped your mouth closed. You shrug half heartedly and remove the teabags.

“Thank you.” You murmur and then realise it sounds like a very stupid thing to say back. “For saying thank you? Sorry. Um.”

You turn back, handing him his tea but not meeting his gaze. You’d already learned to make it how he liked. That was probably not a good sign. You clear your throat.

“I appreciate it.”

There’s a beat of silence and you look back at him. He smiles. You smile back.

Your heart beats a little faster than before and you shift on your feet. You’re being drawn in again.

“Anytime.” Zemo bows his head to you, still smiling, his tone utterly sincere; like he would never tire of thanking you. His gaze meets yours again and he exhales gently. “You... are something else. Do you know that?”

You tilt your head at him, smile widening to a lopsided grin. “No? How do you mean?”

Zemo huffs through his nose, chuckling slightly. “You have bewitched me, dragă. From the moment I saw you.” He takes a sip from his mug watching you with a mesmerised expression. In a low rumbling voice he adds, “Vrăjitore.”

Your breathing stalls for a moment. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you like how Zemo is looking at you; like you’re almost too good to be true. Your stomach twists into knots and your heart and mind race to try to come up with a quip or statement as equally romantic and poetic as he’d uttered but you can’t.

When you don’t respond, Zemo steps away, looking at the floor. “Forgive me. I’ve said too much.”

“No!” you blurt suddenly, and cover your hand with your mouth. You cringe slightly and smile sheepishly at Zemo, whose tilting his head curiously at you now. “I thought it was just me.” You say lamely.

Zemo’s eyes widen and a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth but he says nothing as you rake a nervous hand through your hair.

“So....” You start awkwardly, wetting your lips and dropping your hand from your nape limply.

“So.” Zemo repeats back to you, his eyes sparkling. You can feel your heart thunder at the sight and you open your mouth to continue  but Sam erupts into the room.

“We need to go,” He says hurriedly to Zemo, throwing on his jacket. “Bucky and Sharon have ran into some trouble.”  

Zemo nods, setting his mug down and striding to the coat rack for his purple fur coat. Sam shoots you an apologetic glance when you ask if they’d be back.

“We may have to find another safe house. We’ve stayed here for too long, you might get caught being with us.” He shrugs. “But thanks for everything. I owe you one.” Sam grins over at you cheekily and adds, “and so does Bucky.”

“As do I.” Zemo adds, smiling softly over at you as he straightens the  collar of his coat. Sam looks like he’s about to shush Zemo when his phone rings. Sam’s expression turns serious and he stalks for the front door muttering instructions to either Bucky or Sharon.  He points at Zemo before he opens it. “Parking garage in five minutes. Make sure you’re not followed.”

The door closes behind Sam before  he sees Zemo nod and make his way back over to you.

Zemo stands before you, looking down at you with the same wondrous expression he had before. He’s close but not too close; a polite distance even after  everything tonight.

“So....” You start again, smiling wryly at him. “I guess this is goodbye?”

“For now, vrăjatore.” Zemo says with a gentle smile. A gloved hand reaches up hesitantly to cup your cheek. You can feel the heat of his palm through the leather, and you lean into it; searching for his warmth. Your eyes flutter ever so slightly and you heave a sigh. Just your luck.

“I’ll find you once the dust settles.”

You raide an eyebrow at him and chuckle. “And I’ll be waiting.”

Your own hand encompasses his on your cheek and it feels like an eternity passes as you both stand in silence gazing at eachother before Zemo leans down and places a chaste, tender kiss to your lips. Your heart stutters and you move to follow his lips as he pulls back, making him chuckle.

“I’ll find you,” he repeats, firmer this time. “And then you may kiss me for as long as you wish. Until then, duty calls.”

He grins at you again, adoring the flushed expression you’re wearing, but pulls further away from you. Your arm stretches out, still holding his hand and with one last, small squeeze you release him; watching him stride out of the front door and follow Sam. The silence in your apartment is palpable, and when you remember to draw a breath, the air is stale and dry. You sigh to yourself and finish your tea while replaying the events of the last hour.

 You hadn’t seen Zemo in two months.

That hadn’t meant his presence was missing.

The mission had finished a month ago, however, Zemo was still currently on the run. Bucky and Sam had attempted to find him but from what they had told you, they had assumed he was long gone in some faraway island, living it up. But you had known better.

Lavish gifts from expensive chocolates to tea had appeared at your apartment. The latest was the newest, beautiful bouquet that you had centred perfectly on your coffee table, somewhere you could look upon it everyday, and a pack of cherry blossom tea. You took photos of all of your gifts and added little notes of them into your phone – as you had no way of contacting the Baron, you ensured you could thank him for each and every gift he’d bought for you when you saw him in person. Bouquets came every ten days like clockwork – as soon as one bouquet wilted, the next would appear to take its place. The gifts would be every two weeks. Maybe, you joked with yourself, so it didn’t seem like it was excessive to send two gifts every week.

The only indication that it was Zemo sending you these items was because each gift came with a small 6-by-4 card with one word written in plum-purple cursive.

"I'm so sorry," the boy starts, strapping the leash to the dog's collar, "He doesn't usually run off like that, I thought I'd be okay to let him play around for some time-"

"It's alright," Tim interrupts his ramble and smiles back. If it's a bit forced, then no one would notice in the dim lighting. Only the boy somehow does, tilting his head in a concerned manner.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine," Tim rushes to assure, hiding his free hand in his pocket and awkwardly moving his coffee cup in the air, "I guess humans are not the only ones who crave coffee in this hour."

The boy blinks, clearly taken aback. Then, his eyes shift to Tim's cup, and then he snaps his head to the dog, who is wagging its tail with an innocent look. Somehow, it looks much smaller now - Tim swears the dog was the size of a mastiff the first time he's seen it, but now it's barely bigger than a hound. Is this his sleep-deprived hallucinations kicking in?

"Cujo!" This time, the boy's voice sounds accusatory, "We talked about this! What did I tell you about stealing drinks that are not mine?"

The dog barks. Tim blinks. He is fairly sure dogs shouldn't be having coffee at all, but the boy seems entirely unconcerned on that matter.

"I can buy you a new coffee?" The boy offers, and Tim shakes his head, coming back from his thoughts.

"Um, no, thanks," he smiles again, and huffs a short laugh, "He didn't get to it, and, besides, it's a special order, they won't brew it for anyone who's not me."

The boy suddenly freezes, staring at Tim. And then, his lips slowly stretch in a grin.

He points to Tim's cup, "Is that Death Wish?"

Now, it's Tim's turn to freeze and stare.

"How'd you-" and a moment later, it hits him, and he points a finger to the boy, "You! The only other guy who orders it!"

The dog barks again, looking between them and happily nudging it's owner in the hip with its nose. The boy laughs softly and pats it on the head.

"Guilty as charged," he admits with a smirk and nods to the dog, "At least it makes sense why Cujo chose you out of all the people in the park."

"And not because I'm literally the only other person here," Tim rolls his eyes, even though he feels himself smiling as well.

"Oh, you're not," the boy waves him off, "The park is never empty, well, not for us," he adds a bit cryptically, and then gestures to the gates down the path without skipping a beat. "Anyway, I was planning on getting a coffee after the walk, but do you wanna go and give baristas a heart attack by coming in together?"

That's... not very nice. Tim thinks about it for a moment. Then, he shrugs and smiles.

"Sure," he takes a sip of his coffee, "I'm Tim, by the way."

"Danny," the boy introduces himself and nods to the dog, "And the mediocre boy is Cujo."

"Mediocre?"

"He's not a 'good boy' for running off, but he's not a 'bad boy' either, since he got me a Death Wish buddy. Hence, mediocre boy."

Tim hides a laugh as all three of them head to the gates, absently noticing how the first rays of the dawn are coloring the treetops in gold.

He hummed against your lips, his hands automatically coming to hold your face, and you were back to kissing fervently. 

After a few more minutes of this, you slowly pulled him on top of you, never breaking the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair. You could feel his heart beating fast against yours, as you slowly slid one hand under his shirt…

Suddenly, he pulled away, wincing, his breath shallow and shaky. You pulled your hand back, holding it out in front of you. “I’m sorry, was that too much?” You asked, worried that you were going to scare him off. You hadn’t been dating for too long, and you didn’t want to rush things, but it had just felt… right. 

He hesitated, still catching his breath. “No… Yes? Maybe? I…” He sighed, and you could feel his breath on your face since he was still so close to you. “I don’t know…”

You reached up to touch his face, consoling him and giving him a soft smile. “Let’s stop for now, okay?”

He nodded, sitting up, running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. “Sorry…” he muttered, looking at you apologetically. 

You shook your head, putting your arm around him. “Nothing to be sorry about,” you assured him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his breath finally going back to normal. “I just… I-I don’t know,” he sighed, as if he was frustrated with himself. “I haven’t… I don’t…” he kept stumbling through starts of sentences he never finished. 

You pat his shoulder in a comforting gesture, letting him know you understood. You were trying to think of words yourself; you and Spencer had gotten far enough in your relationship that it was probably time to have a “talk,” but you felt shy about it. It was a slightly uncomfortable topic, especially since you didn’t know how to bring up your total lack of experience without sounding like a complete loser. 

He took your hand off his shoulder to hold it, linking your fingers together. The sweet gesture gave you the bit of courage you needed to keep talking. 

“So…” you started hesitantly, “do you… want to do… that, someday?” You tried not to blush, it shouldn’t be this big of a deal to talk about it. “Because some people don’t, and that’s totally okay too, and I really wouldn’t mind if-“

“No, I do,” he cut off your babbling. “I… I really want to try this with you. I just…” He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t… have any actual experience with… that, but I’ve had some experiences kinda… related to that, and they were… bad.”

You were kind of relieved to hear the first part of that, but hearing the last part of what he said made you furrow your brows. “I… also don’t have any experience, if that makes you feel better.” You rubbed your thumb over the back of his hand. “But, the other thing… Do you want to talk about it?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, just letting himself feel your calming touch. “I just… I’m worried I’ll start to freak out.” He sighed, gripping your hand a little tighter. “It’s… kind of a long story.”

“Well, I’m more than willing to listen,” you replied softly. “Besides, I’ve got nothing better to do.”

That caused him let out a soft chuckle, making you smile. “Okay, well… it started when I was in high school.” He stared into the distance as he talked, almost as if he was somewhere else, describing the events happening. “I was… well, less than popular in school, which I guess is to be expected when you graduate at 12.”

You nodded, giving his hand a little squeeze to try to ground him. You’re sure that wherever he was right now, it wasn’t a good place. 

He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. “And… sometimes, people would just pretend to like me, and I didn’t know any better and I just believed them.” He gave your hand another squeeze. “One day… one of the girls in my class came up to me, and she said her friend wanted to meet me, and I was excited because I thought I liked her, and the idea of someone liking me was, like, unheard of at the time…”

You frowned, starting to soothingly stroke his hand with your thumb. He’d told you about his time in school being emotionally difficult, but he never told you any specifics. 

He opened his eyes again, still not looking at you. “So I met this friend at the time she told me, and when I got there… she was there, but it wasn’t just her; the whole football team was there, and…” His eyes were starting to water now. “And they… took my clothes off and they tied me to the goal posts… and they just laughed at me when I begged them to let me go.”

“Oh, Spence,” you whispered, reaching up to wipe away the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “That’s awful.”

He sniffled, looking like he was trying to hold his breath so he wouldn’t cry. He reached up to touch your hand that was on his face, closing his eyes again. 

You felt your heart breaking at his story. How could people be so mean to him? Especially when he was so young and vulnerable.

You pulled him into a tight hug, stroking his hair soothingly. “It’s okay now, honey,” you cooed in his ear. “I’ve got you. No one’s ever going to hurt you like that ever again.”

“I know…” he sighed, his voice still a little wobbly. “But I just… can’t forget it, and when you started to take my shirt off, it just brought me right back there.” He hugged you a little tighter, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil the moment…”

You shook your head. “You have nothing to apologize for, Spence,” you assured him. “I would never ask you to do something you weren’t ready for.” You pulled back slightly to look at him, pushing his hair back so you could look in his eyes. “If you want to try to go further, we can take things slow, okay? We can take our time.”

He nodded, looking up at you with those big, sad eyes of his. “Yeah, I think I like that idea.” He gave you a soft smile. 

You smiled back, kissing his forehead. “C’mon, let’s finish this movie.”

“I think we’re gonna have to rewind it,” he laughed softly, sitting up again. “I barely even remember what movie we were watching.”

…

You both kept your word about going slow. Every time you were alone together, you started to slowly get further and further. He eventually got comfortable with you taking his shirt off, and you both got a bit more comfortable letting your hands roam. 

One day, everything seemed to fall into place, and you were both finally ready. 

Spencer had come home after a rare slow day at the BAU, and he scooped you into his arms immediately when he entered your apartment. 

He was on you instantly, pulling you close and kissing you, his hands gently gripping your face as you fell back onto the couch. You let out a surprised hum against his lips, your hands tangling in his hair as the kiss started to get very heated. You took his tie off, throwing it on the side of the couch. He let you unbutton a few of the top buttons on his shirt, eventually breaking the kiss to look at you with half-lidded eyes. 

“Can we… go to the bedroom?” he asked softly, panting from the intense kiss. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “Are you sure?” you whispered back, reaching up to touch his face. 

He nodded, putting his hands over yours. “I’m sure. If… if you want to, that is…”

You nodded immediately, standing back up as you both walked to the bedroom, Spencer pulling you by your hand as you both giggled excitedly. 

You closed the door behind you, and Spencer slowly walked towards you, pulling you in by your waist. He kissed you, slower this time, with more intention. His hands slowly slid up your sides as his tongue slipped into your mouth. 

You let out a dreamy sigh, hugging him tightly. You lifted your arms as you let him pull your shirt off, tossing it off to the side somewhere. You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, and it joined yours on the floor as you fell back on the bed, Spencer quickly moving on top of you, his touch on your body feather light. 

His hands worked achingly slow, feeling every inch of you. Starting at your neck, slowly sliding down your arms, back up your waist… his touch so gentle you might not have felt it, if you weren’t paying attention. 

But, oh, you felt it. It felt like electricity was flowing through your body with every touch of his fingertips. He looked into your eyes as his hands kept roaming your body, you never thought you could feel so loved by somebody.

Eventually, his hands came to slowly push down your bra straps, making your breath catch in your throat. “Can I take this off?” He asked, his voice soft and sweet like honey. 

You nodded, sitting up so he could reach your back to unhook it. After a few moments, it joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. 

You looked up at him, and he was looking into your eyes. His eyes were slightly widened, and he seemed as though he was keeping himself from looking at you. 

You let out a warm laugh, reaching up to touch his face. “You’re allowed to look, Spence.”

He blushed as his eyes roamed down your body, leaning you back so you were laying down again. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his hands resuming their search on your body. You closed your eyes, just letting yourself feel the sensation. 

Eventually, his hands reached your chest, making you gasp lightly. Your eyes opened instinctively as you felt him hesitate. “Is… is that okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, your face slightly flushed. “It’s just… new. But not bad.” You looked up at him sheepishly. “It feels… nice.”

He gave you a soft smile, his head coming down to meet yours, your foreheads and noses touching. His hands resumed the soft touch, making you let out a soft moan when he touched the sensitive part of your skin. 

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then started planting soft kisses down your neck and your shoulders until his lips finally found your breasts. You let out a gasp, your eyes closing as your hands tangled in his hair. Your heart was pounding like crazy; you wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel it from where he was. 

His kisses were achingly gentle, before his tongue started moving in circular motions. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you were letting out soft whimpers. Eventually, he made his way back up and gave you a soft kiss on the lips. 

You both looked at each other, giggling softly, feeling like two teenagers sneaking away on prom night. You felt giddy, but serious at the same time. This meant a lot to both of you. 

You bit your lip, your hand slowly sliding down his side before you started to undo his belt. He let out a shaky breath, and soon you were working on his button and zipper, pulling it down…

“Wait!” He exclaimed suddenly, making you pull your hand away, slightly startled. 

“D-do you want to stop?” You asked, worried you did something wrong. 

“No, no, I don’t want to stop,” he shook his head. “I just… can’t forget…” he trailed off as he pulled something out of his pocket, placing a condom on your bedside table. 

You blushed fiercely, that one gesture suddenly making everything feel more real. 

He settled back on top of you, reaching his hand out to gently cup your cheek. “Had to make sure that didn’t get stuck in the clothing pile,” he laughed warmly. 

You laughed back, touching your noses together again. “Well, is it okay if this goes in the clothing pile now?” You asked, tugging at the waistband of his pants. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, his face looking a little red. “All good now.”

You reached down to tug at his pants again, pulling them down as Spencer helped you slide them off. Your eyes wandered down his body, seeing something very prominently bulging in his underwear. Your eyes darted back up to his face, your cheeks turning pink. 

His hands were back on you, sliding down your sides before resting on your hips. “Your turn?” He whispered. 

“Y-yeah,” you whispered back, swallowing and nodding. You reached down to unbutton your own pants before Spencer’s hands were sliding underneath them, and soon they were discarded to the clothing pile. 

He got closer to your face again, biting his lip. “I’ve, uh, been doing some… research…” he murmured, sounding a bit flustered. 

“Research?” You repeat, laughing lightly. “What kind of research?”

“Well,” he started, his hand resting on your hip. “I just… really want to do this right. And I want you to feel good. So I, uh…” he looked a bit embarrassed. “I looked into… what women say feels good. And like, how to… get you… prepared…” he let out an awkward laugh, running his hand through his hair. 

You giggled, covering part of your face with your hand, your face feeling hot. “Yeah? And what did you discover?”

“Well, there were things they said help so it doesn’t hurt,” he explained, his hand trailing down your leg now. “So… I wanted to try it, because I don’t want you to be in pain while we do this.”

He was so sweet you could almost cry. Instead, you just nodded. “Okay… let’s try it, then.”

He nodded back, lifting your legs up and slowly pulling your underwear off. You looked up at him, a bashful look on your face as you lay bare underneath him. 

He took a moment to look over your body before clearing his throat. “Okay, so, the first thing they recommended was putting a pillow under your hips.”

You nodded, taking one of the pillows you weren’t laying on and handing it to him. 

He furrowed his brows, the way he did when he was concentrating hard on something. You picked up your hips so he could slide the pillow underneath you. 

“Comfortable?” He asked softly. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, adjusting your position slightly. Your hips were angled slightly upwards now. “What’s next?” 

“Next is to… get you… ready.” He reached up to  push a strand of hair out of your face. 

“R-ready?” You asked, your face a bit flushed. “So you’re gonna… t-touch me?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Is that okay?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah, it’s okay. I guess I’m just a bit… nervous. I’ve never had anyone touch me like that before,” you mumbled, looking away. 

“Me neither,” he replied, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “But, this is supposed to help you feel less nervous, on top of trying to get your body used to… something being… in there,” he chuckled awkwardly. 

A giggle bubbled in your throat, your face bright red now. “Right, yeah,” you took a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for what was about to happen. “Okay.”

His hand trailed down your body again, watching your face for any reactions. He parted your legs, his hand resting on your lower stomach. “Ready?” He whispered. 

“Ready,” you whispered back, taking another deep breath. 

His hand trailed down until he finally reached the bundle of nerves between your legs, touching it tentatively. 

Your breath hitched, and you let out a little whimper. Just one small touch and you were already feeling your body react. Your arms reached out to wrap around his shoulders, hugging him for support. 

“Does that feel good?” Spencer whispered in your ear, his fingers pausing to make sure you were still okay. 

You nodded vigorously, threading your fingers in his hair, your faces so close that you could feel his breath. “Yeah…” you whispered back, your face flushed. “It… it feels really good.”

His other hand moved to stroke your hair soothingly as he started circling your bud, earning a soft moan from you. 

The juxtaposition between the innocent sweetness he was showing and the very not innocent thoughts you were having were starting to make your head spin. You didn’t think you could ever feel so good, but you were already getting so worked up that you couldn’t imagine yourself lasting much longer. 

After a few minutes of Spencer rubbing you achingly slowly, he whispered to you again. “I’m gonna, um…” He seemed like he almost felt too shy to say the words. “… put my finger in now, okay?” He cleared his throat, his eyes looking into yours. “It’s supposed to help stretch you out a bit, so it doesn’t hurt… l-later.” He was blushing, his awkward mumbling sounding very endearing to you.

“Y-yeah, okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. “I can handle that.”

He nodded, stroking your hair before he went any further. “Just relax,” he whispered. “It said that tensing makes it more likely to hurt.”

You took a deep breath, relaxing your body as much as you could manage. It didn’t help that he had gotten you worked up so quickly. 

He pressed your foreheads together as he slowly slid one finger in, making you hug him a little closer, letting out a quiet whine as you felt this new sensation in your body. It was almost like a slightly full feeling, except that you felt like you wanted more. 

“Is that okay?” He asked softly, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “Doesn’t hurt?”

“N-no,” you stammered, deciding you’d answer his last question first. “It doesn’t hurt, it feels really good.”

“Do you think you can manage a little more?” He searched your face to look for any signs of discomfort. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, swallowing. “I think I can.”

He nodded at you, pressing his face to yours as he slowly slipped another finger in. 

You let out another soft whine, holding him a bit tighter. He looked at you, silently asking a question. “I’m alright,” you whisper softly. “It feels good.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he started moving his fingers, the new sensation filling you with excitement, already feeling like you were close to coming undone. 

“Spence…” you moaned softly as he suddenly kissed you hungrily, his tongue in your mouth causing you to tangle your fingers in his hair tightly. 

You didn’t think anything could feel this good, his fingers thrusting in and out of you, hitting you where it felt the best every time as if he was an expert. You felt something building in your stomach, your toes starting to curl as you let out a string of moans and whimpers. 

You pull away from the kiss, breathing shakily as you try to speak. “Spence… I-I’m…” you squeezed your eyes shut as you suddenly felt overwhelmed by how much pleasure was coursing through your body. 

Spencer ran a hand through your hair, the gesture very gentle compared to the relentless way his fingers were moving inside of you. “Just let it happen. I’ve got you,” he murmured in your ear before his lips were back on yours, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. 

The tenderness in his voice and feeling of his lips and the movement of his fingers finally sent you over the edge, moaning loudly as you felt waves and waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Your back arched off the bed as you got lost in the pleasure, almost feeling like it was never going to end. 

Finally, you felt yourself come down, panting as you tried to process what just happened. You’d never really felt that kind of sensation before.

Spencer was looking at you in awe when you finally looked back over to him, also seeming to be processing what just happened. 

You blushed, feeling a bit shy after all that. It made you feel more exposed than taking off your clothes had. 

After a few moments, he broke the silence by whispering, “You’re so beautiful.” He pushed your hair back, getting a better look at your flushed face. 

You smiled sheepishly, your heart warming at how sweet he was. He was really good at comforting you during such a vulnerable time. 

“So, uh…” you started, absentmindedly running your finger up and down his arm. “Do you think that was… sufficient?” You chuckled awkwardly, feeling like you sounded ridiculous. 

He was also blushing, his voice warm and sweet. “I hope so,” he laughed lightly back. “Do you feel… ready?”

You leaned in, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ready for anything in my life,” you murmured. 

You both smiled at each other, Spencer’s face getting more and more flushed as your hand traced down his side to his hip. 

“It’s not fair that I’m the only one not wearing any clothes right now,” you teased as your fingers stopped right under the waistband of his underwear. 

He bit down on his tongue, his hand moving to help you finally take off the rest of his clothes. 

Soon, you both lay there, completely bare. Your face was a bright red, your eyes widening automatically as you looked over his body. You moved your eyes back up to his face and he met your gaze, pressing his forehead to yours and gently cupping your cheek. 

“Are you, ah…” You felt a bit embarrassed as you spoke. “Are you sure it was enough… preparing?” As stereotypical as it sounded, you were having trouble imagining him fitting inside of you.

He smiled softly, tangling his legs together with yours, the sense of closeness feeling reassuring to you. “You can tell me if it hurts… I want you to tell me if it hurts, okay? Or if you changed your mind-“

You shook your head, cutting him off. “I didn’t change my mind. I promise.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into another kiss, slowly moving on top of you so he was straddling your waist. You stifled a moan when you felt something hard pressing against your stomach.

After a few more moments, he pulled away slightly, his mouth still inches away from yours. “Okay, I… I’m going to…” He trailed off as he sat up a bit more, his hand right next to your face as his other reached for the condom on the table. 

You felt a bit embarrassed just staring at him, but you kind of couldn’t help it. “So, there’s like… a right and a wrong way to wear it, right? I remember being taught that in high school.”

He nodded, tearing the wrapper open and starting to slowly roll it down his length. “Yeah, I’ve been, uh… practicing,” he admitted sheepishly. 

A giggle bubbled in your throat as you thought about what that “practicing” meant. For some reason, it excited you how much he prepared for this. It meant that he really cared a lot for you. 

After it was on, he came back down to face you again. “Ready?” He asked softly, his hand finding yours and interlocking your fingers together. 

You gave his hand a little squeeze. “Ready,” you replied, nodding determinately. 

He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed himself in, both of you letting out a little gasp as you finally joined your bodies together in this intimate harmony. 

You let out a little whimper when he was all the way in, feeling perfectly full. You fit together perfectly, like you were made for each other, as cliché as that sounded. 

After a few moments of just staying like that, your foreheads pressed together as you both adjusted to this new feeling, Spencer spoke breathlessly. “Does it hurt?”

You shook your head. “No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels… amazing,” you admitted, whispering to him. 

He smiled softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “Can I start moving?”

You nodded quickly. “Please,” you practically begged, your body already aching for this pleasure that was only just starting. 

He wasted no time, his eyes closing as he started a steady rhythm, his movements almost achingly slow. 

He leaned his head down for another heated kiss, letting out a quiet moan against your lips. You squeezed his hand tight, matching his moan as his thrusts started getting a little faster. 

You could immediately feel the pleasure building inside of you again. He was able to hit the exact spots that made you whimper and moan, and hearing his own muffled noises of pleasure against your lips was making you feel dizzy. 

After a few minutes, he pulled away from the kiss to bury his face in your neck, his movements starting to get erratic. He sounded like he was mumbling something to himself, his voice vibrating against your neck. You think you heard him listing some of the periodic table elements, which could’ve almost made you laugh if you weren’t so lost in the feeling of him. 

“Spence…” you whimpered, trying to pull his head up to press your face against his. “It’s… I…” You tried to convey the feeling building inside you as you felt yourself getting more and more worked up with each of his thrusts, but you couldn’t even form a cohesive thought. Instead, you squeezed his hand tighter, letting out a loud moan. 

Thankfully, he understood you, and you could feel his hair tickling your forehead as he nodded. “Me too,” he breathed, his voice slightly whiny. “God, me too.”

You wrapped your arm around him, the movement of his hips getting faster and faster as the room was filled with the noises you both were letting out. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore; your back arched, pressing your body against his, your feet tangling together as you felt his tensing against yours. You felt yourself hit that high for the second time tonight, your hips moving to meet his as he moaned loudly, his hips shuddering as he came right there with you, the frenzied movements dying down until he finally stopped, collapsing on top of you. 

You were both panting, trying to catch your breath after such an intense moment. He let go of your hand to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug as he buried his face in your neck. You reached up to gently stroke his hair, your other hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on his back. 

You stayed like that for a few minutes, keeping each other close, your hearts thrumming in your chests against each other. His body was warm on top of yours; he almost felt like your personal weighted blanket. 

Eventually, Spencer lifted his head up to look at you. As you met his eyes, you both let out a little giggle, the giddiness of what you just experienced really hitting you. He moved so he was laying on his back, scooping you into his arms as you curled up into his side. 

“That was… wow,” you finally broke the silence, a big smile on your face. 

He smiled back at you. “Incredible,” he finished for you. “I… I never thought I could feel quite like that.”

You reached up to cup his cheek, your tone slightly teasing. “Your ‘research’ didn’t prepare you for that?”

He laughed warmly, pulling you closer against him. “Nothing could’ve prepared me; you’re a one-of-a-kind person, and everything with you just feels so… special,” he gleamed at you, putting his hand over yours. “I… I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you breathed, getting slightly teary-eyed. You weren’t prepared for just how emotional this would make you. “I can’t imagine myself doing that with anyone besides you.”

“Agreed,” he nodded, his tone soft as his thumb wiped away the tear that was forming. “You okay?”

You nodded, turning your head to give his hand a little kiss. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you smiled softly at the comforting touch. “Just feeling a lot of emotions, I guess.”

“That’s normal,” he replied, pushing your hair back so he could look at you better. “The hormonal release can cause a flood of emotions, sometimes causing postcoital tristesse. It’s normal to feel some anxiety or sudden sadness-“

“It’s not sadness,” you cut him off. “I’m crying because I'm so happy.” You smiled wide, nuzzling his nose with yours. 

He couldn’t help but smile back, his eyes closing as he nuzzled your nose back. “That can also happen. I’m glad that’s the one you’re feeling.”

“Me too,” you sighed contentedly, resting your head on his shoulder as you closed your eyes, exhaustion suddenly hitting you. 

He let out a warm laugh as he saw you getting comfortable, hearing the drowsiness in your voice. “How about we get dressed and go to sleep?” he whispered. “I think we’ll both sleep really well tonight.”

“Mhm…” you mumbled, trying to will yourself to sit up after your body suddenly felt really heavy. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

After a bit of effort, you both got up to change into your pajamas, stealing a few quick kisses as you did so. You settled back into bed, snuggling up under the covers, whispering “goodnight”s before you both fell asleep almost instantly. 

After that night, you were practically inseparable. This had basically become a nightly routine; you tried out a whole bunch of positions to test what felt the best for both of you. His favorites were the ones where he could hold you in his arms. 

The MacTavish Clan had been preparing for a raid on a neighboring clan that kept pushing boundaries, with local women disappearing into the night with no explanation at all, weapons disappearing, and footsteps discovered that weren’t of the style of shoe anyone within the clan wore, and that was among the less suspicious things.

The most talented and local blacksmith, Simon, known for his welding mask in a skull shape, had been honing the weapons for it.

Johnny, the leader of the Clan, had been discussing plans with Price, the leader of their men, and Gaz, his advisor. The general idea was simple, keep it undercover as long as possible, or until signs of their missing women and supplies were found, then they would go loud, letting every other man flood in.

Plunder what they could from the Gravison Clan, take their resources, and lives, and maybe take a few women from them in retaliation.

A few hours later, things were progressing smoothly, Price having infiltrated their walls under the cover of darkness, most men settling down for the night already, when the warlord discovered just what he’d been expecting in a large boat just offshore: the women of the MacTavish Clan bound and gagged in the storage compartment in the bottom.

One flaming arrow was shot into the sky, and just like that, every man from the Clan was flooding the Gravison Clan’s walls and defenses, slaughtering everyone they found save for the women and children, hunting down their leader, going through every house and home, Johnny wanting the kill for himself.

When he finally found the man, cowering inside a large home, he slit his throat after distributing more than a few hits to his body, and more than a few barked insults and curses at him.

The man’s head was soon put on a pike to be displayed, a sign of warning.

But what he hadn’t expected to find was a feisty woman, the wife of the Gravison Clan’s leader, fighting more than even her husband had, yelling and hissing and cursing at Johnny as he grabbed her, throwing her over his shoulder even as she kicked and clawed, nails drawing a bit of blood. It wasn’t often he took a prize from his battles, but you were intriguing, he’d never seen a woman with so much fight.

“Quit yer yappin’, woman.”

He grumbled as you pounded at his back, cursing him out so severely that the Devil himself would blush. The smell of smoke was thick in the air as huts and buildings were burned, leaving behind ashy remnants of what had been of the Clan.

Burnt bones crunched beneath his feet as he walked back to what had been of the gates, approaching his short, sturdy horse, hopping on in one smooth movement, one hand gathering both reigns as Price joined him on his own horse, following as Johnny took point back to the MacTavish Clan’s lands.

His warlord only raised a brow at the yelling woman thrown over his shoulder but didn’t question it, the ride silent back to their lands as your throat eventually grew too raw to keep screaming, body shivering from the cold and the exhaustion quickly seeping deep into your bones. Whether you had fallen asleep or passed out was lost on him, but he didn’t care either way, Price only spoke once he was sure your breathing had fallen into a deeper rhythm indicating unconsciousness.

“Didn’t take you as one to take a prize mare.”

Price commented, carefully eying his Chief, trying to read his mood based on the little tells. Johnny shrugged.

“Not a prize mare, just felt different about this one.”

And that was that. The conversation had ended, Price only giving a little grunt in return before they continued on the path home.

When they finally arrived, they had plenty of work to do.

~

When you woke, you first registered the pounding headache between your eyes, the loud sounds outside of work being done, people shouting, wood being sawed, and metal being hammered, only adding to your discomfort.

You tried to sit up, quietly groaning, leaning against the wall behind you.

It was a wonder you weren’t dead yet, honestly. But maybe that was part of their game, maybe they would just give you a glimmer of hope only to slaughter you like cattle, or turn you into a sex slave, or just an object to take their anger out on. It wouldn’t surprise you.

Your clothes had been changed. From the thin nightgown you’d worn the night earlier, now to a thin white smock, a strap dress sewn together at the sides hanging nearby.

Splotchy bruises were spread across your skin from the night earlier, though you couldn’t tell if they were from the other Chief, or your husband’s hands nights ago. They felt tender when you brushed a hand against them as if someone had rubbed against them.

You were in what seemed to be a separate section of a longhouse, a lit torch burning mildly as it hung from the mud and stone walls. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that still prevailed in the room, just as you heard a door creak, scrambling away as a man with honey-brown skin and short, tightly curled hair stepped in.

“Easy, I’m not here to hurt you.”

He said, offering a small smile that would’ve been reassuring in any other predicament. There was a platter in his hands, looking as if it was made of terracotta, a small roasted bird resting on it as he stepped further in, shutting the door behind him.

You watched warily as he set the plate down on one end of the bed you were in, moving to lean against a wall opposite the bed. He watched as you slowly picked the plate up, glancing at the food, before pulling the wing part off with cracked nails, taking a bite, and reluctantly deciding it was delicious.

“I’m Kyle, but everyone calls me Gaz. You are..?”

You looked him dead in the eye, chewing your bite of food, dead stare unnerving him slightly, before you swallowed, a flicker of pain in your eyes from how your throat ached until you finally responded.

“Y/N.”

You croaked out, and he nodded, but frowned slightly, giving you a glance over, before his gaze went back to your face.

“I'll be honest, I wasn’t expecting you to be so docile, considering you just watched your husband die by our Chief’s hand—“

“Good.”

Your raspy voice interrupted, eyes boring into his as you took another bite of the meat, and you watched his brows furrow for a moment. You shifted in the bed slightly, moving to pull your knees to your chest, plate balancing on your knee as the smock was pulled up slightly, showcasing one of the nastier bruises on your thigh.

His eyes darted to the bruises, quickly piecing things together as he carefully spoke his next few words.

“Your husband wasn’t a good man, was he?”

You shook your head, and he gave a little thoughtful nod, getting up, opening the door, walking out, closing it while muttering to himself. You managed to hear only a quiet,

“Bloody hell,”

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@hawke1917