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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

Note

congrats on 2222!! soulmate au with frankie would be so cute. I love frankie sm he’s just the cutest 😍

Hi lovely! Thank you for this prompt. I was a bit apprehensive because I've read one (1) soulmate AU in my entire life and wasn't sure if I could do it justice. But obviously, Frankie takes this by the ears and I just had the best time writing it. This is also a college AU because apparently I love AUs set with Pedro boys in college 🤷🏻‍♀️

This drabble is actually an AU of an upcoming fic I have in the works, called Summer House (with a lot less angst and pain). I hope you like it sweet anon!

Frankie Morales x soulmates AU

Fuck Yeah 2222 Sleepover micro drabble request | 1346 words (sorry) | warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, college AU, inexperienced reader, drinking games, friends to soulmates

Sometimes, you wonder what colour Frankie’s eyes are.

It’s not something you wonder about often, not when everyone has grey eyes - but not really. One day, when you kiss your soulmate for the first time, you will see their eye colour, and they will see yours.

So you definitely don’t have any business wondering anything of the kind about Frankie at all, seeing that you two do not get along. Never have, probably never will, despite having been in the same close knit group since you were kids. Benny has long played the second to your principal in your duels with Frankie, while Santi is his, with Will keeping the peace whenever you get into a particularly thorny disagreement.

But that’s the funny thing about friendship. Despite your bickering, you got his back, and you know he has yours.

You’ve heard about it once or twice through the grapevine in high school, but finding one’s soulmate seems to be a dime a dozen in college, with happy news dropping left, right and centre throughout the academic year.

While you’re not in a hurry to find your fated other half, you start thinking that you should at least get started with the kissing part. You’re way behind your friends and peers on that front, somehow missing out on the formative experience despite being a regular fixture at house parties at high school, then sorority parties in your freshman year in college.

You really should blame the boys. No one wants to risk messing with a girl who has three hulking seniors and one equally hulking sophomore at her beck and call, not when there are far easier options around.

But you know it’s not just that, and you’ll only admit it when you're drunkenly tucking yourself into bed, alone yet again after another party. It feels like you’re the only person your age who’s still (stupidly) holding onto the hope that your first kiss can be something, not just a sloppy makeout session with too much tongue and too little meaning.

And so you find yourself, still never been kissed, when summer rolls around at the end of your first year at college. Your gang of five is about to shrink to just you and Benny, with the rest of the boys enlisting after they graduate, and the impending farewell upsets you more than you care to show.

The five of you spend the first week together at the Millers’ summer house after school lets out, as has been tradition since you were kids - with your parents when you were younger, but it’s been just kids for the last few years.

Well, just the kids plus one, since Frankie always brings a girlfriend. Unfailingly, it's someone beautiful with perfect hair who has a wandering eye for the other boys, and hates your guts for being the only girl in the group.

On the last night, the guys invite a select crowd over for one final hurrah before they go home and get ready to ship out to basic training the following week. Music is booming, cheap beer is flowing, and you’re all in the garden, the sticky Floridian heat clinging to you like a second skin.

Ironically, it’s Frankie’s girlfriend who wants to play spin the bottle. He sits opposite you, his Standard Oil cap pulled over his eyes but failing to hide his annoyance at being forced to participate. You roll your eyes at him across the circle, and he gives you a middle finger back.

Will, the self-appointed gamesmaster, spins the bottle set on a pizza box atop the lawn.

It spins, and spins, and spins - until it doesn’t.

You look on in sheer horror when the bottle stutters to a stop squarely before you, the other end pointing at Frankie, who turns green with nausea.

‘FUCK NO!’

You attempt to run, only to be tackled to the ground by Santi, who practically hauls you by the waist back to the circle as you kick and scream.

Frankie, on the other hand, has to be restrained by both Miller brothers.

‘I have a girlfriend!’ he shouts, digging the heels of his beat-up sneakers into the grass.

She doesn’t seem to mind though, clapping gleefully along with everyone else, chanting, ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’

Shoved toe to toe in the middle of the circle under watchful eyes, you exchange vicious glares. Frankie’s broad shoulders are hunched over defensively, arms crossed. It’s strange, you’ve known him forever, but this is probably physically the closest you’ve ever been to each other without being locked in a fist fight.

Warmth bounces off his tightly wound up frame as he towers over you, and by some folly, you feel an inexplicable pull.

You fight the staggering want to bury your nose in that grey tshirt (the one he wears Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and restocks at Old Navy when it wears too thin), to swipe that hat off his head to brush the curls from his face, to look into his eyes - and see what colour they are.

In the end, Frankie breaks first - you’re not sure if it’s the jeering and goading from the crowd or your stubborn standoff that makes him snap. Grabbing you by the elbow, he hauls you firmly into his chest before you can react.

You should be embarrassed, mortified that this is how you’re going to end up losing your first kiss. And yet, losing doesn't seem like the right word.

There’s a deep-seated calmness inside you, knowing that it’s going to be Frankie. The boy you’ve known since you were three, the teenager who used to make you cry with stupid juvenile pranks, and the man now who wouldn’t hesitate to throw a punch if anyone even looks at you the wrong way.

As soon as the tip of his proud nose brushes yours, your eyes slide shut of their own accord - and he kisses you.

God, his lips are so soft. Your breath catches in your throat, and your knees wobble so dangerously that your fingers twist into the front of his tshirt, holding on for dear life.

Can he tell that you don’t know how to kiss, at all? Does he think you’re terrible? The fact that this feels so fucking perfect despite having no idea what you’re doing sets you on edge, a magnifying glass trained on your inexperience in a way that makes you stiffen with nerves and awkwardness.

He must be appalled at how bad you are, especially after the litany of gorgeous, more experienced girls he’s been with over the years. You can’t believe you’re subjecting him to this, how would he ever look you in the eye afterwards -

But then, something shifts when his hands find your waist, palms easily spanning the small of your back as he pulls back for air, but only just, still so close that you can feel the tickle of his beard on your chin. There’s an unmistakable hitch in his breath, a tremour as he exhales, which in turns makes you tremble and switches off the unwelcome commentary in your head.

It’s as if he wants you.

Before you can think too hard, Frankie leans in and kisses you again, harder this time, the tip of his tongue tracing the seam of your mouth, and heat chases down your spine like a meteor. He sucks on your bottom lip when it falls open in a gasp, dipping between your lips with a clever swipe of his tongue against yours that makes you shudder and whimper, which he swallows with a possessive growl.

Your lungs are burning when he draws back, his nose still touching yours.

Then he calls your name.

You blink as your eyes open -

Frankie’s staring at you, lips parted, his gaze reverential. Like he’s never seen you before. Reaching up, he takes your face in his hands, calloused palms on your cheeks, thumbs swiping away the tears that won’t stop. You break into a watery grin, which he mirrors, a warm chuckle rumbling in his chest, holding you close as everything falls into place -

Frankie’s eyes are brown.

Note: In case it's not clear, in this fic, everyone’s eyes appear grey. You can only see your soulmate's eye colour after you kiss them for the first time.

#fuckyeah2222sleepover #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #frankie morales soulmates au #frankie morales college au #frankie morales imagine

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jonismitchell · 1 year

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i don’t have to be your shrink to know that you’ll never be happy is taylor’s funniest fucking lyric by far

#arden speaks

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darkbluekies · 1 year

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what would ocs do if mc got arrested for speeding after trying to escape

Warnings: threats, handcuffs, chains, humiliation?, manipulation, gaslightning?

Silas:

He’ll have a field day with this one. He won’t even be mad as he walks into the jail, on the contrary — he’ll laugh. With his hands in his pockets, you trapped in front of him and having bailed you out, he can’t do anything but mock you. He’ll get into your cell and run his hand through your hair in a demeaning way. He loves to see you shrink under his touch.

“My poor little idiot, I think you dropped something when you ran away from me. What, you ask? Your fucking brain. How stupid can one be to get caught by the cops? I’ve bailed you out, now let’s go home, I’ll teach you yet another lesson of what happens when you try to run away from me since the last five didn’t seem to work.”

Dr Kry:

He’ll be able to convince the police to let him handle you. You’re clearly not well. You don’t need to go to jail, you need to be taken to a medical facility … like his hospital. He loves that you’re trying to tell the police that it’s where you ran away from … it only makes you look more and more insane. As soon as you come back to the hospital, he’ll keep you cuffed to the hospital bed and remove all of his personal stuff from the room.

“Now, now, don’t be sad. I’m not mad, just worried. We both know you weren’t fit to drive a car. You should be happy that you’re under my protection or you’d end up in prison for both speeding and stealing my car. You’re quite the little criminal, aren’t you, my dear? Now I have to keep you chained like this so you won’t repeat it. You could really hurt yourself, you know?”

King Edmund: (there are no cars in his timeline, a horse will do)

When a frantic horse rose through the village, the royal knights captured it quite quickly. When they saw who was on the horse, they nearly fainted. They kept you in a clean room for the king to come get you. He’ll come twenty minutes later in a carriage, holding a chain in his hands. He’s furious, you can tell.

“What were you thinking stealing my horse and riding away like that?! I had been thinking about taking you for a horse ride in the forest, but now I don’t think that’ll ever happen. It seems like you can’t act right and because of that, I need to chain you. I can’t trust you. Try to move with this heavy chain around your feet and you’ll find that you won’t get so far. How unfortunate … seems like you’ll be spending summer indoors. Come now, my darling. Let’s see you walk with those chains out to the carriage.”

Jerry:

She’ll be laughing as she bails you out. She’ll laugh all the way back to your home and somehow, it frightens you. She never laughs when you run away … so what’s different this time? It tells you that whatever you’ve done, it’s worse than all the other times you’ve escaped her clutches. As soon as you’re behind closed doors, she collects herself and grabs a fistful of your hair.

“You’re in such big trouble, baby. I’m honestly impressed that you managed to sneak out and steal my car keys without me noticing, but don’t think it’ll happen again. I’m going to put up cameras and I’ll be able to watch your cute ass as often as I’d like. Hah, try to beat that, you little shit.”

Hedwig:

You’ll be bailed out in no time and have Hedwig’s arms around your waist like a suffocating corset. She’ll shower your face in kisses before pulling you out to a car — not the one you’ve gotten caught in. Her chauffeur will drive the two of you back to her mansion in silence. Hedwig will lead you up to her room and sit you down on the bed. Before you have the time to think, she has placed something around your ankle.

“What? Oh, that’s a tracker. Honey, please listen, please. I can’t have you running around like that. We’re meant to be together, I know it. I’m just protective over you. What if you would have gotten in a car accident? You could have- … you could have died. So this is just for safety measures. I’ve told all the staff to report to me if you leave my room and they’ll do their best to keep you at home. I honestly don’t know what I would do if the police wouldn’t have caught you. Seems like there’s a benefit of your reckless driving after all …”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere mafia #yandere oc x you #yandere doctor #yandere female #yandere king #yandere reactions #yandere headcanon #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Called to Duty 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, abandonment, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Summary: You struggle to move on from the biggest mistake of your life but find it hard to forget among the whispers of a small town.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You shift on your feet. Your arches kill and your hips feel like they're splitting apart. For all you know, they are. Every day is a new fun side effect.

You lean on the counter, standing vigil at the customer service till. Unlike the pharmacists and their assistants in the back, you don't get a chair. You refuse to complain, you know it would only add venom to their gossip. Even here, you're not safe from the whispers.

The break room is a nest of snakes. You learned that one day as you walked in on a conversation that couldn't stop soon enough. You know they talk about you, there really isn't much else to do around Hammer Ford. Even if it's only borne of boredom, their words still hurt.

The pharmacy is quiet but for the fuzzy noise of the overhead speakers playing outdated songs on repeat. You reach to rub your lower back. You’re not that big. Not as big as you will be but you don’t know how much longer you can stand in the same spot for eight hours.

You stare at the till, the blue border on the screen blazing into your vision. You can’t help but drift into you even less glorious future. This won’t change. You’ll be stuck here, working hour after hour, only you’ll be poorer and more tired. You’ll have a whole other person to take care of and look how you’ve done just taking care of yourself.

Your chest rents and you let out the breath trapped beneath your dread. Something clacks onto the counter and shakes you back to reality. You face, the customer, your vision slowly narrowing back to focus.

You glance at sigh then down at the bottle on the counter. He has one of the novelty stuffed rabbits in his hand and a jar of cream. He puts those down too and you squint at them curiously. You take the bottle of vitamins and wave them towards the scanner.

“I read you should take iron and folic acid. Those have both,” he says, “you also should be sitting down.”

“What?” You frown, the bottle still in your hand, and stare at him.

“This cream should help with the dry skin. The book said as you grow, you’ll get itchy--”

“What are you talking about?” You put the bottle down and cross your arms.

“Do you have a belly belt?”

“Sy,” you say his name firmly, “are you... are you trying to give this to me?”

He huffs and pulls out his wallet, “you need it.”

“How do you know I don’t have it already?” You ask, thoughts scrambling at his kind, thought it edges along presumptuousness.

“Do you? What do you need then? Stuff for the nursery?” His eyes roll upward, “not much room up there for a baby.”

You want to shrink into nothing. You straighten your arms and grip the edge of the counter, “I know. Sy, this is a nice gesture but... I barely know you. It's too much. Not your responsibility.”

“Mm, and where’s the man who should be taking responsibility?” He reaches to pluck up a chocolate bare from shelf on the other side of the till. He drops it on the counter, “you got cravings too?”

You shake your head. Ugh, you hate how quickly your hormones have your heart racing and your eyes misty. It’s so nice of him despite being completely off putting. No one else, not even your own mother, even tried to help you.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, “sore? Tired? You got morning sickness?”

“Sy, please,” you raise a hand and set your tone, “really, I can’t... I can’t. Okay, it’s not... it’s not right.”

“Isn’t. He should be here--”

“Please,” you pull the stuff towards you, “I’ll put all this back on the shelf and you can just go--”

“I got money,” he slips his thumb into his wallet, “I wanna buy it.”

You blink at him. Daye, the manager, watches from down aisle. She looks less than impressed. Shoot.

“Okay, do you want a bag?” You ask as you ring in the items.

“Be easier for you to carry,” he says as he offers a hundred dollar bill, “not too heavy.”

You cringe and take it, stretching it out and checking with the marker. All larger bills have to be throughout vetted. You put it in the drawer and count his change and hold it out to him.

“That’s for dinner. Get some protein--”

“No, take it,” you insist, “what are you doing?”

His forehead lines and he looks back and forth, “what he should be doing.”

He doesn’t take the money so you put in on the counter. You unfold a paper bag and put the items inside and push it towards him. Your skin is hot with embarrassment. Worse than any judgment is pity. Does he think some vitamins and stuffed bunny is going to solve your issues?

“I want you to take it and go please,” you say quietly as you notice another customer coming towards the counter.

It’s old Ed Parriser; his wife, Ginny, is in line with the town gossip, Lynette. He has a bottle of advil and heartburn medicine. You wonder if those are symptoms of his marriage.

“There you are,” you shove the receipt in the top of his bag, “I need to help the next customer.”

He lingers then reluctantly grabs the bag, crumpling the top in his large hand. He gather up the money and closes it in his fist. Reluctantly, he backs away, looming just at the end of the counter as Ed puts down his haul.

“Hello, sir, how are you today?” You ask.

“Eh, I’m doin’ okay,” he answers in his wheezy way, “ha,” he scoffs as he watches you scan, “I thought Ginny was tellin’ one of her stories again.”

“Oh yeah?” You look up curiously, putting on a sunny smile, “what did she say?”

“Said you got yourself knocked up like a floozy,” he chortles, “maybe I’ll just start listening to her--”

Ed grunts as suddenly he’s grabbed by the collar of his plaid shirt. Sy has him in a death grip knuckles rolled into the flannel as he snarls down at the man, “keep talking and you’ll need those pills. I’ll split your fucking head open.”

You stand, dumbfounded by his surge of anger and his threat. He’d only ever been soft spoken, even if he was huge, but he’s rabid like a wolf in that moment. Ed smacks his forearm and wriggles.

“Let go of me, you lump--”

“Sir, excuse me,” Daye’s smoker’s creak rises from her throat, “is there a problem? Do I need to call the sheriff?”

Sy puffs through his nose, chest rising and falling as you watch him weighing his options. He wants to keep going. His blue eyes flick over to you and he lets go, raising his hands.

“Nothing,” he grits out.

“That’s right, nothin’,” Ed rubs his neck with a cough, “he just protecting this--”

“Keep going,” Sy’s rolls dangerously low as he towers over him. The old man snaps his mouth shut so his jowls tremor. He looks at you then Daye.

“Know what,” Ed clears his throat, “I think Ginny was here yesterday. I don’t need all this.”

As Daye nears, the old man hobbles around Sy’s fuming form. The larger man sneers at the manager as she nears, her phone in hand. He points it at him, “leave. Now.”

He sends you one last look, his cheek ticking. He spins on his heel and marches out. You bite your lip and look down at the two bottles in front of you. You grab them and gulp.

“I’ll just put these back,” you offer.

“You keep your drama out of this store,” Daye warns, “or I’ll talk to Willard.”

You sniff at her threat. Willard gave you a good deal on the upstairs apartment but people weren’t happy about. Even if the faucet is leaky and the fridge rattles.

“It wasn’t--”

“Keep it out,” she snaps and snatches the bottles from you, “if you can lean, you can clean.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #backwoods #au #series #sandcastle #called to duty

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pandorascripts · 11 months

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I Bet You Think About Me

pairing: wednesday x reader

cw: angst, cheating, tyler galpin.

note: you should know that I made morticia and gomez the mean rich type of people to fit this.

summary: catering your ex-girlfriend’s wedding was certainly not what you wanted to do, but it proves to be fruitful as you get to say goodbye— and taunt her.

song: I Bet You Think About Me (feat. Chris Stapleton) (Taylor’s Version) (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift ;).

proof read like once. I’m finding a lot of mistakes because I’m tired LMAO.

SEND IN REQUESTS BASED ON TS SONGS!

:—-:—- —-:—- —-:—- —-:—- —-:—- —-:—- —-:

It had been exactly three months since Wednesday had called off your relationship. She claimed you were too childish and that you were just too different from her— that you couldn’t fit into her world. Looking back on it now you can only laugh, the true reason why Wednesday broke up with you was because she was too scared of the consequences.

Despite what she claims and what others believe, Wednesday does care about what her family thinks. And her family, the richest and most powerful people in all of New York, had high expectations in who she would date. They certainly didn’t think (or even know) that Wednesday wanted to date someone below her status, below her age for that mater. Nine years wasn’t too bad, but her parents wanted Wednesday to be nine years younger than her rich, male lover. Unfortunately you didn’t fit any boxes where it mattered.

But as you’re catering her wedding, watching Wednesday dance with her new husband, you really can’t help but chuckle. Wednesday’s been staring at you for the entire event, and you know damn well she’s been thinking about you. You see it in the way she eyes your work attire, — a tight, clad semi-formal suit— and in the way she frowns the moment her husband draws her attention away from you. It’s obvious.

Buts it’s only until the service is almost over that she approaches you.

“Hi.”

You look down to the glasses you’d been cleaning previously, trying to help out your friend with his own job. “Mrs. Galpin, is it?”

Wednesday scoffs, arms crossing over her chest. “Yeah, it is now.”

You nod, wiping a white cloth against the crystal glass of the cup. It’s almost as thick as the tension between you two.

“Look, I want to tell you that I’ve moved on, and that I think it’s really immature of you to show up here.”

Your eyes widen drastically as you stare at Wednesday and her audacity. Grabbing her by the wrist, you drag her into the nearest storage closet so you can scream at her. She doesn’t stop you because she wont dare to make a scene with her filthy-rich family here. Her wrist in your hand brings up dead memories, memories long buried under sadness and anger.

When the door clicks shut, you finally turn around to yell at her. “I’m doing my job, Wednesday. I didn’t have a choice because unlike you I can’t just wait until my trust fund opens. As you’ve made very, very, very, clear, I don’t have one!”

Wednesday rolls her eyes, her fingers adjusting the hem of her dress. “Just don’t cause anything. You and I both know that you were always dramatic.”

“Oh, I’m dramatic? You got engaged a week after we broke up to please your parents.”

“We were never going to work out! I like him! It wasn’t for my parents.”

“I don’t have to be one of your many shrinks to know you’ll never be happy with him. In fact,” you step closer to Wednesday, rage clouding the thoughts telling you to leave it be, “I bet you think about me.

“You’re out here marrying rich, handsome guys and trying to chase a status your parents want you to have, but I bet you’ve never felt so locked up in your life.”

Wednesday shudders, her cold gaze darting around your face.

“Why’s that?” she asks, still trying to act like she’s in power.

“Because you never felt more free than when you were with me.”

Wednesday gulps, her head whipping to the storage closet as she tries to not look at you. She fails, and proves your point beautifully. You shake your head, disbelief and disappointment the only thing you feel.

“Goodbye, Wednesday. Enjoy the wedding and let me do my job peacefully.”

Your hand retreats from the wall behind her, when they got there you can’t remember, and you turn around. Wednesdays hands reach out to grab your face before you have enough time to register what’s happening.

Her lips are still just as soft as they were that night she left you. Her kisses are still sweet and passionate, always expressing what she can’t say through words. You sigh, forgetting about the wedding, about her parents, and about her husband waiting for another dance just beyond that door.

It doesn’t take long until your fingers thread themselves in her dress and then you remember all of those things and more. You remember why she dumped you— why you have to let her go. You pull away harshly, taking a few quick steps back and sprint out the door. Wednesday doesn’t bother chasing after you.

You run to your friend James, alerting him of your well-earned break that you decide to take. He nods, waving you off as you dart out of the venue. The early spring snow sets against the slush and you sigh. The cold grounds you, remembering the night three months prior.

You shift on Wednesdays lap, laying your head on her shoulder. She’s reading in peace, a book her friend recommended, you recall. Her friend had claimed it had changed his view on life, and had told Wednesday it would do wonders for her. She was only reading it to poke fun at it.

The movie in the background was long forgotten by you, your eyes instead lining her jawline and the soft curve of her nose.

“Wednesday.”

“Yes?” she asks, flipping the page over. She doesn’t look at you, or even stop reading her book.

You’ve been noticing this for the past two weeks now, her attention has been dwindling. Wednesday’s become more stressed and angry. Fights have been more frequent, at least two every other day. It’s always over minuscule stuff too, like how you dress, where you work, how Wednesday doesn’t like the way you hold your fork, or the way you laugh like a kid. You told her maybe it’s because you are one. After all, you’re twenty two and she’s thirty-one. Wednesday ignored you for hours that day.

“Will you put the book down?”

“Why?” Again, no eye contact.

“Because I want to have a real conversation.”

“We are.”

You scoff, swinging your feet off of her thighs and stand up, the book getting knocked to the floor. You don’t apologize despite her shouts, instead you grab your keys and shrug on your coat.

“Where are you going?” she demands, hands trying to grab the keys out of your pocket.

You swat her away and tie your shoelaces. “For a walk.”

“The hell you are! It’s eleven at night and December, it’s too late and too cold.”

You ignore her again, swinging the door open and skipping outside. Wednesday doesn’t follow you, but you don’t need to look back to know that. The door slamming tells you enough.

That night when you got home, a clear head and a fresh apology with you, Wednesday called you childish. She told you that dating you was a mistake, that meeting you was one. And then her bag of belongings— you remember frowning over the fact that she only had an unpacked bag of stuff— was thrown into her corvette.

It didn’t matter how much you clung to her, begging that she didn’t do this, she shrugged you off and left without so much as a glance back.

When your five minute break was over, you walked back into the wedding and continued working. Wednesday wasn’t anywhere to be seen for the rest of the night.

Maybe it wasn’t the goodbye you wanted, but it sure was a loud one. All you can hope is that Wednesday is tormented by what you once had, because at least you can certainly bet she thinks about you.

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visionofhope04 · 1 year

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Hiii I was wondering if you could do Batfam x sister reader being Damian’s twin and rather than persuing the same thing as their dad and being a vigilante she becomes a famous singer (ya know famous name and good music) and she releases and album (maybe emails I can’t send idk something) and like family being there for her first sold out concert and yeah just supportive of her carrere

Angst is my thing but I’ll do my best to make this as fluffy as possible. Not beta read, sorry if there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know. Hope you like it!

—-

“Father?”

“Yes?” Bruce was concerned. You kept shifting your weight and fiddling with your fingers. He’s never seen you this nervous before. He tensed, preparing for the worst.

“Iwanttobeasinger.” You blurted, looking anywhere you could that wasn’t his face.

Bruce blinked. “Can you say that a bit slower please sweetheart?”

You took a steadying deep breath. “I want to be a singer.” You said significantly slower.

Bruce let out a deep breath and let his body sag. He’d never been religious but in that moment he thanked whatever was up there for helping him.

You looked at him, confused.

“I thought you were gonna ask to be a vigilante.”

Your face contorted in alarm. “Me? A vigilante? Never.”

He chuckled and then brought attention back to what you said. “So you want to be a singer? How do you plan on doing this?”

“Y-you don’t care?” You questioned in shock.

“Why would I care? You’re my daughter and I will always love and support you. I’m glad you found something you really enjoy and intend to make a career out of it. Finding something you enjoy doing is hard, being able to make a career out of it is harder. If it makes you happy then I’ll gladly help you with it if you need it.”

“Even though it’s a bad career?”

“Some people in it may be bad but it doesn’t make the career bad. Music is all about self expression and is a great outlet for emotions. It brings people together and makes them realize they’re not alone. I think you’ll be an amazing singer.”

You began to tear up but do your best to hold it back, “Thank you father.”

—-

“I want to be a singer.”

Immediately, everyone stopped talking and looked at you. You did your best to not shrink under the sudden attention. Usually, you never spoke at the dinner table, content to just listen.

“That sounds like a great idea Birdy!” Dick said.

“Lil sis’ gonna be the talk of the town.” Jason smirked at you.

“That’s great! I can’t wait to hear it! Tim exclaimed.

Damian’s reaction is the one you feared the most. He’d always disliked you leaving behind the life of fighting for a mundane one.

“I think that is a respectable profession.”

At your brothers’ approval, you broke out into a wide grin. Bruce was smiling openly at you all and wondered how he got so lucky to have such an amazing, supportive family.

---

You were backstage, makeup done, earpiece linked, and microphone ready to go. You were really nervous. This was going to be your first-ever live performance since you released your first album. It was such a hit, it became the number 1 album on the charts a few hours after release, with over 30 million streams. You were stuck in your thoughts when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to look at the person, it was your father.

"Don't be nervous, you're going to do great. I'm so proud of you. You're so talented and amazing. They're going to love you out there."

"Thanks dad." You smiled. His words warmed your heart. No one ever told you they were proud of you before. Despite what he said, you still felt a little nervous.

After waiting a bit more, it was time for you to get on stage. You heard cheering in the crowd as you emerged from the darkness. Now in the spotlight, your nerves came back tenfold. The bright lights blinded you, but you could still see the silhouettes of everyone who came to see you tonight. There were way more people here than you expected. You stepped up to the mic and adjusted it.

"Hello," The crowd's cheering picked up. You smiled and waited for it to quiet down before continuing. "thank you all for coming. I appreciate every single one of you. You made it possible for me to be standing here right now and I am so grateful. Enjoy the show!" The crowd's cheering picked up yet again as your first song came on.

---

You were so tired but so, so happy. The concert was a major success and nothing went wrong. You had so much fun getting to know your audience and calling people up on stage. You got backstage and your whole family was there.

"You did amazing!!"

"You're my new favorite singer."

"She's been my favorite singer, keep up."

"Your voice is unmatched, my dear girl."

"I knew you could do it."

"You were adequate, don't let the praise get to your head."

Your face hurt from grinning, and you could help but feel elated. Your family's support meant the world to you, and you were so grateful for it.

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f0point5 · 2 months

Note

With all the posts about Max’s first win I can’t stop thinking about how Y/N was feeling because it was still their feud era 🥺

do you have any headcanons about it?

I always had a rough idea of what happened after he won, I think it’s mentioned in the smau but I actually had some more detailed thoughts when I saw the reel on Max’s insta so…

Enjoy 🧡

Ps. Please ignore slight inaccuracies, I didn’t check the layout of the track’s parc fermé before writing this lol

**************************

It’s your dad who drags you to yet another race under the guise of actually seeing you for more than thirty minutes at an airport. You hardly bother being upset. The kid he wishes was his is entering his first race for Red Bull Racing, you weren’t expect him to spend the whole weekend with you while that was happening.

Of course Max goes and wins it.

The moment he takes the chequered flag and the garage erupts into noise that can’t even be softened by your headphones, you want to roll your eyes, but you can’t. You’re not sure why your heart is thundering in your chest and you’re lightheaded, but you can’t think straight to figure it out. You don’t even like the guy.

Later, you’ll realise it’s because for all the dislike, awkwardness, and misunderstanding, there’s one thing you know about Max Verstappen, and it’s that he deserves this. He’s deserved it since he was racing around on his stupid little quad bike right over your foot. He deserved it after every win and every rare loss. Every time you watched him load his kart into that battered van when his dad wouldn’t let anyone help him, every time he turned away from anyone who might notice he was crying after Jos spoke to him, every time he stood on that top step looking not happy, just relieved.

You don’t even realise you’re crying until Geri Horner hands you a tissue with a soft smile before she runs off to join her husband. You follow her out to parc fermé where Max is already out of the car, mobbed by people. Barriers aren’t keeping anyone away from F1’s story of the decade.

You’re making your way through the throngs of people without any clear idea of why. You’re not even sure you’re breathing. Your brain certainly feels short of oxygen. Max has his back to you as he talks to one of his pit crew, gesticulating wildly as the guy shakes him by the shoulder.

It takes pretty much all the courage you’ve ever had to tap him on the shoulder. Something in you is surprised he turns to look at you.

“Congratulations,” you say, past a lump in your throat.

He doesn’t say anything. His smile doesn’t fall, but his eyebrows raise, like in this sea of people congratulating him he’s surprised that you did.

“Uh, thanks,” he says squeezing the back of his flushed neck. Even with a grin he can’t dull, he manages to look so damn awkward, and he can’t meet your eyes. “It was a good race, huh?” He snorts out a chuckle like he’s just one a 100 metre dash at a school sports day.

“Oh, fucking hell, Max,” you scoff as you take hold of his wrist and pull him into a hug, one he returns so quickly it makes you laugh, shaking against him.

You squeeze him tighter and he responds in kind. You laugh again, and this time you feel him laughing, too. Maybe something in his sweat transmits his adrenaline, or the heady atmosphere of success just takes over and you lose your mind, because you find yourself wondering what would happen if you just never let him go.

It’s Jos who pulls you apart, giving his son one more hug before pushing him off to where the team is waiting to celebrate with him again. He even turns to you and gives a squeeze around the shoulder and a kiss to the crown of your head, which feels a little like being kissed by the pope.

You shrink back into the crowd of people as photographers move past you to get closer for more pictures. Max doesn’t even seem to notice them, talking to Helmut Marko and his dad, looking like he’s walking on air. You imagine he must feel weightless. You know that for some reason, you do.

“He’s phenomenal,” your dad says beside you. It’s a dig at you, but you don’t even care.

“Yeah,” you agree, watching Max hugging his race engineer, “he is.”

He may be an arrogant dick, but his talent is something you see once in a lifetime if you’re lucky, and today you feel lucky. Your dad may never forgive you for not having talent like that but right then you promise to stop hating Max just because he does.

You’ll never be friends. You’ll never have more in common than a childhood that shattered you and made him invincible. You’ll probably never stop wondering what it’s like to be him.

But when you see him stand on that top step for what you know won’t be the last time, you cheer.

#max Verstappen x reader

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alltoowsll · 1 year

Photo

I don’t have to be your shrink to know that you’ll never be happy... AND I BET YOU THINK ABOUT ME!

#taylor swift #tswiftedit #mine #gif*#i bet you think about me #my song<3

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ladywaffles · 5 months

Text

icemav + reckless

a discord prompt written for @sluttyhenley A sappy little Top Gun New Year's Eve prompt I forgot to post last night! Happy New Year, my friends!

In just a few hours, it will be 1996.

It will officially have been ten years since he met Maverick.

They’re all holed up in some shitty dive bar with a jukebox that predates Reagan, and the alcohol is free-flowing.

It’s probably the last time that they’ll all be together for the foreseeable future; it’s a miracle that none of them have taken promotions that have put them on desk duty.

Slider throws an arm around his shoulders, Wolfman’s got a mischievous glint in his eye.

They’re well away from base in their civvies; no one wanted to get clocked today. It’s a boys’ night out, one last hurrah for the men of ’86 before orders come down the pipeline and split them up after a scant eight weeks working together, before their careers take them out of the cockpit and ground them for good, never to fly with each other again.

“You know, Slider,” Ice muses, just loud enough that Slider can hear him. “This reminds me a lot of that first night at Top Gun.”

“You know what, Ice?” Slider plays along. “I think you’re right!”

Wolfman flashes a sharp grin, tapping Hollywood to let him know he’s heading out.

Merlin and Maverick sit at the bar, none the wiser, enjoying their beers as the NBC live coverage of Times Square plays on the TV behind them.

Slider slips over to the jukebox as Wolf darts up to the tiny stage. He passes Ice a microphone, “with the longest cord we could find!” Wolf tells him. Slider shoots him a thumbs-up above the heads of the crowd, and Ice makes his way to his target.

“Excuse me,” Hollywood says dramatically, tapping on Maverick’s shoulder. Maverick furrows his brow.

“Wood, don’t tell me you’re already wasted this early in the—”

“Is this guy bothering you?” Ice interrupts, cool as can be. Maverick stops short in the middle of his sentence, then catches on.

“Ice, don’t you dare—”

The Righteous Brothers kick up on the jukebox. “Oh, my looove,” Ice croons to Maverick, “my darling, I’ve hun-gered for your touch!”

Hollywood joins in, serenading Maverick as his face turns bright red, even under the dingy light of the bar. Somewhere in the crowd, Wolfman and Slider join in, and then the entire bar is coming along, slightly off-key, a little too loud, singing “Unchained Melody” at the top of their lungs as Maverick, larger than life and slick as can be, tries to shrink into his barstool. Merlin won’t have it, though, and he forces Maverick to stand up at the end and accept the ovations from his adoring crowd.

The boys crack a smile, and Merlin vacates his seat so Ice can slide in next to Maverick, whose cheeks are still flaming red.

“You know,” Ice says with a grin, “I’ve never seen you quite this red, even when you’ve got sunburn.” He jabs an elbow into Mav’s side, but Mav pushes him off.

“That was very reckless of you,” Maverick says lowly, intending to scold but coming off somewhat impressed. “Singing to me in the middle of a civilian bar like that.”

Ice shrugs, bolstered by his success and the alcohol already in his system. “What can I say, I’m a natural at it.”

“I bet you do this for all the girls. Does that play often work for you?” Maverick asks. Ice winks at him.

“I’ve never done it before. You’ll have to tell me how I’m doing.”

“You think it’s going well?” Maverick says. His voice is still low, but for an altogether different reason.

Ice leans in, knowing smile on his lips. “Why don’t you tell me in the morning?”

Maverick groans. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

Ice calls for another round for him and Maverick, then closes out both their tabs. “Ten years it took me to get the full story out of you, Mitchell.” He downs his vodka in one go, fully aware of Maverick’s eyes on his throat as he swallows. “You can’t have thought I was going to let you live it down that easily.”

Maverick knocks back his shot. “So then, sailor,” he looks up at Ice. There’s two hours to midnight yet. “You in town for long?”

“Not for much longer,” Ice answers truthfully. “But if you’ll have me, I’ll come back to you whenever I can.”

Maverick smiles, a big toothy grin that makes him look like that fresh-faced punk of a lieutenant he first met ten years ago. “I’d like nothing better, Ice.”

#top gun #icemav #lamby.prompt

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nicherayyy · 1 year

Note

heyy! hope you're having a good day/afternoon/night so far! i've been enjoying many of your la squadra x child! reader drabbles, they're just so cute o((>ω< ))o

i was wondering if i could have some headcanons of the la squadra members letting their stands interact with the child reader (for the sake of this, we'll just say the reader is a stand user since it'd be impossible for a non-stand user to see stands)? idk, i think it'd be so cute seeing scenarios like: the reader giving little feet random useless things and just wanting it to shrink them or maybe the reader trying to teach baby face what they learned in school. not sure how the reader would interact with pesci or ghiaccio's stands since they're not exactly humanoid?? but i'm sure you'll come up with something awesome, haha. tysm!

Omg I’m crying

Child Reader interacting with La Squadra stands

Let’s just imagine that you were born as a stand user (which actually really surprised La Squadra), so you can see their stands. You’re a curious child, so the only thing you want is to communicate with your adoptive parents stands, I mean.. who wouldn’t want to.

When you first saw Man In The Mirror, well, you just stared at him. Don’t think that you were scared, just the opposite. The stand’s features were just.. so interesting. So interesting that you didn’t even blink while looking at him (this scared Illuso af). But after some time you started reading book with the stand. Meanwhile Man In The Mirror just watched over you:

“And then, a big-big hippo.. hip..”

“Hippopotamus”, Illuso corrected with pure amusement in his voice.

“Hush, I’m not reading to you”, you rolled your eyes and then looked at Illuso’s stand that was hiding in the mirror “Am I right?”, Man In The Mirror just nodded.

And when you found out that Little Feet can shrink things, oh boy. Formaggio is already used to these moments when his child asking him if he can “summon his friend because I want him to shrink this book for me”. This moments is so random the poor man doesn’t even know when you want to shrink something again.

Ghiaccio’s White Album is your personal cat. Blue haired man didn’t want you to interact with his stand at first, but he couldn’t stand you being upset so he gave up.

“Can I see a kitty?”, you asked innocently.

“It’s not a cat and my answer is”, Ghiaccio looked into your eyes full of hope “My answer is yes, you can see him” he said before summoning his stand. Ghiaccio is an angry gremlin, but even he can’t resist your wishes.

Fishing with Pesci is gonna be a thing. It’s your monthly tradition after all.

“And now pull”

“Like this?”, you asked while pulling Beach Boy out of water.

“Yes”, Pesci patted your head while smiling, “You did such a great job”

Baby Face is willing to listen whatever you say. Hears something interesting at school? He is already waiting for the interesting fact you’ll tell him today.

“Did you know that whale songs can be used to map out the ocean floor? Isn’t it incredible?”

Melone is just happy to see you so hyped up about something, so he just watches your interaction. In addition, such conversations will help develop his junior.

Risotto would never have thought that his stand can be cute to someone. Well, that was before he met you. Even just holding those little beans in your hands made you so happy.

“Can I hold beans?”

Risotto was distracted from his paperwork.

“Sure you can, just make sure not to make much noise, I’m still working”, he said before Metallica beans were summoned in your hands.

What about Grateful Dead.. well, you saw him just once. From a distance. And after that you keep asking Prosciutto to see him again.

“When will I see your stand again?”, you confront him, looking disappointed.

Prosciutto just sighed.

“I told you that never, it’s dangerous” he replied before putting you in his lap. Anyway you’ll be waiting for Prosciutto’s stand appearance, you even draw him a picture. He must feel so lonely because Pros won’t let you see him.

#la squadra esecuzioni #la squadra di esecuzione #la squadra x reader #la squadra #jjba part 5 #jojo bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jjba x reader #risotto nero x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #ghiaccio x reader #melone x reader #jjba vento auero #vento aureo

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carouselofswift · 18 days

Text

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 1 year

Note

What about Dame /Donnie taking their girls virginity

Dame. You heard all the rumors. He’s hung, and he’s a beast between the sheets. Have the srpings of the bed going like the instrumental to Some Cut.

But you were scared. He didn’t look like he’d be too happy about you being a virgin. If you were being honest, you would have laughed at yourself for even thinking it was smart to save your box for Daddy Diamond Dame. You gotta be tweaking. But no, here you are, in his home.

He’s smooth, and he’s about what he says. You didn’t take his words lightly. After a drink or two he was ready to go and you were so nervous.

“Don’t be scared,” he’d say in the smoothest voice. All low and sexy.

You eventually get the courage and before you let him undress you, he presses a finger to your lips.

“Now…you’re mine. I’ve been wanting you for some time now. I got you and I need you to understand something…I’m not playing fair.”

You felt a shiver all over your body.

“I’m gon’ give you everything and I want you to be a good girl and take it, okay?”

You could only nod your head yes.

“Good girl…such a good girl.”

Naked, and after he gave you the best foreplay of your life. He’s coaching you on how to suck his dick.

“Easy baby. It ain’t goin nowhere, mamas. Relax your throat…relax…there it is…now take some more…good girl.”

He was rough but gentle. Apparently for your first time, you did okay. He stopped you before he could nut and instructed for you to lay on your back. This was it. It’s now or never. Your heart was beating so painfully in your chest. Legs quivering. Body shaking. It took for him to line the glans of his big dick up with your virgin opening before you stopped him with your hand.

“Dame, wait,” you spoke nervously and with a little whimper, “I should have told you…I–I–I’m a virgin.”

Dame doesn’t say a word. He just looks at you. His eyes are steady and unrelenting. You don’t know what to do but press your thighs together and shrink beneath him. He’s probably disgusted. Now, you’re rambling.

“I–I should have said something, IdontknowwhyIdidntsayanything, I–should go–you probably hate me–I’m so sorry—”

Dame pressed a finger to your lips to shush you. You could feel your eyes tearing up. You continue to talk despite his finger being there.

“I just really like you! I really really wanted this! I didn’t want it with anyone else! I didn’t think you would agree to it if I told you!—”

“Stop. Talking.”

His voice was firm. You shut your mouth and your eyes are frozen on his face. He’s staring at you with so much intensity it’s almost too much. He leans over your body, propped up on his hands, his gold chain dangling in your face. The feeling of it against your cheek caused your nipples to harden. One of his hands comes up to play in your hair and then he’s kissing you. You eventually fall into the kiss, closing your eyes and grabbing the sides of his face with shaky hands. Dame finally breaks the kiss and now he’s looking at you again.

“You’re so adorable.”

You snort a laughter and regret it. He laughs at your embarrassment.

“Nah, I’m serious. Listen…I don’t care about all that. You could have been honest with me. I really like you, girl. Being a virgin is not a hard pass. I feel…honored to be your first everything,” Dame tilts his head and squints at her, “I am your first everything, right?”

You roll your eyes and blush, “Yeah.”

“Hmm,” Dame twists his thick lips, looking you up and down, “Well…I guess I gotta go easy on you this time. But know this, I’m not letting up next time.”

Your eyes widened. Dame chuckled at your expression before pressing his lips against your sweaty temple.

“But you’ll love it,” He said, “I promise, you’ll love it.”

Once you calmed down enough, Dame parted your thighs slowly, watching your face to make sure you were still in the moment with him.

“What?” You’d nervously ask.

“Just check in’ on you,” Dame said, “Make sure you’re still in the moment.”

You reassure him you are over and over to the point of begging and Dame spreads your thighs wide, wider than you would do it if you were masturbating, and slapped your pussy repeatedly with his heavy dick.

“Breathe…breathe.”

You inhaled and then exhaled.

“Breathe…breathe,” Dame glanced down to watch him line his tip with your slick canal. He clenched his jaw and his eyelids fluttered and you couldn’t hear it over your own breathing but he grunted because he already knew how good it was gonna feel.

You inhaled and then exhaled.

“Breathe…breathe…”

He pushed in, you gasped.

__________

Adonis was stressing on how to make this moment right for your first time. He’d been planning the entire evening. You both had a nice dinner with dessert, you went for a drive listening to some of his favorite music. Now, you were back at his place, surprised by the champagne on ice and the low lighting in the room and the rose pedals on the bed. He remembered your imagination of what a first time for you would be like.

He stood in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his jeans and those eyebrows you love crinkled with worry. His dimples peeked through his cheeks and he was nibbling on his bottom lip. For such a big, strong man, he was such a teddy bear. You couldn’t hide your tears and how happy you were. One thing about Donnie, he was attentive. The fact that he even remembered your imagery of this moment blew you away.

“You remembered,” You looked at him with watery eyes, “Donnie…”

“I want this to be perfect,” Adonis started undoing his white button down, revealing nothing but solid chest, “You mean the world to me, baby.”

Adonis walked up to you slow and steady. You could tell he was nervous as well. You both giggled.

“Babe,” you smiled, placing your hands on his biceps, “Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Adonis bowed his head to kiss your lips, “For giving me this honor…”

“You’re the one,” you trace his collar bone with your nail, “always have been.”

Adonis’ eyelids fluttered and he looked down at your hand, grabbing it to press his lips against it. He then rubs his nose against the inside of your wrist, breathing in your fragrance, before his hungry lips were going up your bare arm and then over your bare shoulder since you’re wearing a strapless corset fitted dress.

Adonis’ lips made it all the way to your ear.

“I love you,” He whispered, “thank you.”

He surprised you by picking you up and carrying you to the bed. He placed you in the middle and started taking off your shoes. Then, he removed your dress and your black lace bra and matching panties. Each time he would place a kiss to your tender flesh.

He undressed for you, slowly, it was like art. His body…it blew you away.

“Can I finally taste you, Princess?” Adonis asked with a tilt of his head and the soles of your feet pressed against his lips.

“Yes,” you replied.

It was the FUCKING BEST.

He blew you out of the water. So much that you push him down to the bed and climb between his legs. Adonis is turned on by you taking charge but also encourages you because he can see that you’re scared.

“I apologize in advance for my size,” his eyes look down at his third leg in your small grip, “and forgive me if I move my hips…I can get out of control during head…among other things.”

“No worries,” you reassured him, you just wanted that big dick in your mouth.

He coached you and from his excitement he came in your mouth and it shocked the both of you.

“I don’t usually cum that fast from head, you sure you ain’t do this before?”

You both laugh and Adonis brings you to the top of the bed where he climbs on top of you. You both kiss and he’s sucking your nipples while one hand is between your legs to open you up some.

“I’ll go slow…steady…we ain’t gotta rush this, baby girl.”

He brought your legs around his waist and you both watched him line himself up. It was now or never.

“You ready?”

His unsteady breathing told you he was.

“I am.”

Despite your quaking limbs, you were more than ready. Adonis brought a hand around to cradle the back of your head against his chest and then he hunched over you. He gently entered you and you gasped loudly before biting on the flesh of his chest, Adonis’ other hand fisting the sheets to control the urge to pump his hips at a rapid pace.

#adonis creed #adonis x oc #dame anderson #creedsmut #creedimagine #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #creed 3

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signed-sapphire · 1 month

Text

The Fallen Star ✨ Wish Reimaigned

Chapter 2 - The sorcerer

Tw: minor injury, flashing light in a gif, panic attack below the red “boom” (check the comments for a summary of what happens)

Chapter 1

Asha made her way over to the teens. She would inform them of her Sleepy/spindle idea at once.

“I’m sure the Royal Healers will find a way to help your Saba,” Dahlia was telling Hal sympathetically.

“..yeah,” Hal murmurs. She seems to remember herself and puts on a smile. “Yeah, he’ll be okay! My Saba is a fighter!”

“That’s the spirit,” Safi grins.

“Dario!” Hal exclaims, momentarily forgetting her plight. She runs up to a lanky teen and hugs him tight.

Dario grins and signs something with his one free hand.

“Oh, sorry!”

Hal steps back and Dario signs, Sorry I couldn’t make it! Gabo was busy training and I didn’t want to leave him alone.

“My abuela’s always like, gotta work to protect the royal couple,” a voice from below grumbles.

“Gabo! Glad you could make it,” Hal smiles.

“Hey, Hal.” Gabo crosses his arms. “Like, they’re infinitely powerful! Amaya knows potion magic! And there’s nothing Magnus wouldn’t do to protect his wife— even his daughter! For some reason…”

“Ahem.”

Gabo freezes at the towering figure above him. Asha glares down at the short peasant, nostrils flared. “Ah, Grumpy. I’m surprised no one has trampled you yet.”

“I’d offer you the chance to do it yourself but Your Royal Highness wouldn’t want to dirty her shoes with the peasants, would she?” Gabo snarks.

Asha crosses her arms. “You’re the grandson of the captain of the guard. Unlike your gaggle of friends, you’re not a peasant.”

Gabo huffs. “Thanks for the insult, Highness.”

“Gabo,” Bazeema hisses.

Gabo shrinks. “Sorry, Bazeema.” He glances up. “Sorry, Your Highness.”

Asha rolls her eyes. How sincere. “Anyways. You look sad, Happy. Which is ironic, considering you are usually very… loud. This is a nice change. But Magnus has his reasons. Sorry.” She turns to Sleepy. “Besides, I have the perfect idea to keep you awake.”

“Huh?” Simon yawns and turns to Asha.

The princess taps her foot. “Well,” she says addressing Simon, “it’s this magical spindle that pricks you whenever you start feeling sleepy! It’ll keep you awake! I know, I know. Amazing. What can I say except ‘you’re welcome!’” she smiles.

Dario signs something that has the other teens snickering, giving Asha an innocent look when she glares at him.

Gabo snorts. “Thanks for the ‘advice,’” surrounding the last word with quotation marks, “but we really don’t want any more royal decisions that ultimately end up helping us none.”

“Gabo,” Dahlia says cautiously.

“My— Magnus has reasons for what he does,” Asha says.

“Hal’s Saba is sick!” Gabo exclaims. “What reason does he have?”

“Gabo,” Dahlia warns.

“Watch your tone,” Asha says sharply.

“Why should I listen to you?” Gabo rolls his eyes. “You didn’t do anything to deserve being the princess—"

“Gabo! That’s enough!” Dahlia says firmly.

“What? She’s not even their daughter! All she did was have a “boo-hoo, I’m so sad” childhood and now she thinks she gets to dictate people’s lives—"

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Asha snaps. “I am your princess and you will respect me or so help me I will ban you from Rosas forever and you’ll never see your friends again!” She growls.

Asha exhales and runs a hand through her hair “Take him away.”

The guards hesitantly herd the teens off as Asha storms past them into the castle, Valentino scrambling to follow her.

She tried to help them, and this was the thanks she got?

“They’re so infuriating!” Asha shouts, slamming her door. She yells and grabs her vanity chair and throws it across the room, only for a magical blue net to catch it and gently return it to its place. A note pops onto the chair.

Asha groans and flops onto her bed, grabbing her pillow and screaming into it.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Valentino bleats and nudges Asha with his horns. Asha rolls over and pets his fluffy head. “Thanks, Val. I just… I know I’m not magic like Magnus. But I’m going to be. Soon. Just a couple more months until I’m eighteen. Then I’ll show them.”

Valentino tilts his head.

“I’ve tried Amaya’s “make friends” idea,” Asha deadpans. “It didn’t work.”

"Behhhh."

“What do you mean? Of course I tried!” Asha exclaims. “I was as nice as I could be!”

"Behhhhhhh."

There’s a knock on the door, the knock Anna did on Elsa’s door.

Dun dun dun dun dun

“Asha?"

“Come in,” Asha mumbles into her pillow.

Magnus steps inside. Valentino jumps up and bleats happily. The king grins and pets the goat’s head.

“Hey, Mags,” Asha says imperceptibly.

“Are you alright?” Magnus asks softly. “I saw you running off after the meeting.”

“I’m fine. Your roses come with a bunch of thorns, that’s all. You should prune the lot of them.”

Magnus sits by Asha’s bed. “Want to tell me what happened?”

Asha rolls her eyes and sits up. “Just… people are stupid.”

“Which people in particular?”

“Grumpy,” Asha mutters. “Him and his stupid friends.”

“The group of friends you were interested in joining?”

“What? No!” Asha exclaims. “Why would I want to join them? They insulted me! Well, he did, at least. Stupid little rose,” she grumbles.

“Grumpy… grumpy grumpy— ah! Little rose,” Magnus nods. “Was it Gabo Noceda?”

“Yes, it was Grumpy Whatever-The-Crap-His-Name-Is.” Asha crosses her arms.

“What did he say?” Magnus asks.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just some bull about how I’m not really your daughter and I can’t do magic like you,” Asha mumbles.

Magnus purses his lips. “I see. I shall inform Captain Noceda of this as soon as possible.”

“Don’t. It’s fine,” Asha says. “I’m turning eighteen in a couple months. You can just grant my wish then.”

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “So you want to talk about this now?”

“Talk— talk about what?”

Magnus smiles. “One: Asha, you are my daughter, and you are Amaya’s daughter. We love you, you are part of our family, and you will always be loved. Okay?”

Asha looks uncomfortable.

“And two: we’ve been over this. You can tell me your wish, Asha. I promise I won’t judge,” Magnus says earnestly.

“I told you. I want to be a sorceress,” Asha says simply.

Magnus smiles softly. “Come with me, yeah?”

“I really don’t think—"

Magnus was already out of the room. Asha groans and contemplates throwing something again. Maybe out the balcony. Maybe it would land on Grumpy’s head. Oops.

She decides to follow Magnus instead. Valentino trots alongside her as they walk to his study, where Magnus waves a hand and the crystal doors open to the wish room.

Asha closes her eyes and basks in the glow of the wishes. “They’re… everything.”

“They are,” Magnus agrees. “They are the true essence of a person. A part of their heart. The very best part. As long as they stay here, they are protected. And they remain safe. When you turn eighteen, Asha, your wish will join them.”

He floats the wishes down, admiring them softly. “When that happens, I’d rather know your wish already than find it out on my own.”

“Mags, stop prying, okay?” Asha crosses her arms. “I told you. My wish is—"

“That may be a wish, but I only guard one’s true wish,” Magnus interrupts. “I can feel them, Asha. A sorcerer knows.”

“And when I’m a sorcerer, I’ll know too,” Asha retorts.

Magnus massages his temples. Teenagers.

How am I supposed to get through to her? I just wish—

Ah.

“Would it help if I told you my true wish?” Magnus offers.

Asha’s eyes dart to him. “What?”

“My wish,” Magnus clarifies. “I don’t think I’ve ever shown you it.”

“N-no,” Asha stammers, “you haven’t.”

Magnus grins. “Five years in our family and I’ve never once showed you? We must fix that!” His eyes are sparkling.

Asha winces, then walks up to Magnus, where he’s floating down the wishes. Music starts playing.

🎵 A Wish Worth Making 🫧

Magnus

Asha

The wish of someone like me

Magnus smiles at Asha as the room fades to a dark greyish

Someone whose hopes were in despair

Wind picks up and shows Asha’s sketchbook flipping, Magnus’ magic swirling and dancing onto the paper

After the smoke and screams

We see a sketched young Magnus (created from his magic, she didn’t actually draw this) look around the rubble

After the dust cleared from the air

He’s hugging Young Asha

I made a wish, with my whole heart

Holding her close, she’s sleeping and his hand is cradling her head, Amaya is sitting next to him

To never see yours breaking

Looking up at the Stars, seeing a small one peeking out from behind the clouds

That was my wish worth making

Yeah, everybody dreams

Real life Magnus, wishes dancing around him, the drawings fly off the paper to see Magnus and Young Asha studying books together

To be something, someday, somewhere

Even kings and queens

Daydream to be free from their royal chairs

I see a dream that’s got your heart

Clasping Asha’s hands

It’s not magic you want to be reaping

So tell me. What’s really your dream worth dreaming?

Asha pulls her hands away and turns off

I started as a wildling

Page flips back to drawings, Younger!Asha playing in the Hamlet

Playin' in the sun

Then that night came and crushed my dreams

A shooting Star flying into her house

I told them that the day would come

Young!Asha sobbing over Sakina and Tómas’ bodies

So I must wait my time

Young Asha with Magnus now, seeing a magic book labeled “Bringing Your Ohana Back”

You tell me, "Be nice, play fair"

Jumping off the pages again

But if I want to bring back mine, yeah

Real life Asha singing

I can’t be close to you, I have to prepare

Turns back to Magnus

'Cause I feel it in my heart

There's no way you're not sowing

A new dream that I have to stop growin'

My wish is to not be apart

Singing over the light drawings as the room starts fading in again

But that means your heart breaking

Looking fondly at the light doodle of Magnus going back to being just ink

I can’t tell you my wish worth making… 🎵

Asha sighs, then turns back to Magnus. “I told you. I want to be a sorcerer. Just like you.”

She gives him her best Princess Smile™️. Luckily, Magnus seems to buy it.

“Fine. I’m letting you off the hook for now!” Magnus smirks. “But I’m getting it out of you somehow. Maybe during the Wishing Festival?”

Asha freezes.

“Will you be joining us this year?” Magnus asks softly.

Asha doesn’t respond.

“Asha?”

“Thanks for the talk, Mag. I’ll be in my room.”

Asha walks out of the room without a second glance.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Asha doesn't head to her room.

No, while in the wish room, Asha had a different idea on how to make Grumpy eat his words.

Magic.

Now, Asha wasn't magic. She didn't study the textbooks during those years growing up. But she knew which books taught you magic.

Including the special books that Magnus kept locked up in the cellar. His secret cellar. The one thing that remained untouched by the Stars that destroyed the previous kingdom.

Rosas was built on its foundations. Literally and figuratively. Magnus used a spellbook from the cellar to create the barrier around Rosas that kept Stars out. Surely Asha could use that spellbook to give herself magic a bit prematurely.

"This isn't to prove anything," Asha explains to Valentino. "This is just for me to get to my goal faster. Seeing Grumpy's happiness get crushed is just a bonus."

Valentino gave her a look.

"Come on, fluffy. Surely you'll want to know what they're like," Asha reasons.

“Baaaaaa.”

"Agreed. Let's hurry," Asha says.

She ducks under her adoptive father’s desk as he walks past, murmuring something about protection. She waits until he leaves, then crawls out and heads towards a lever on the wall.

Magnus had told her that was the one thing off-limits in his office. To never touch or pull it. He made her promise.

Asha pulls the lever. There's a shift, and then a click. The spiral pattern on the stone floor starts to move, and Asha watches as it opens up to a staircase, candles lighting them up like this ⬇️

"Here we go," Asha murmurs. "Come on, baby."

Valentino shakes his head. “Behhhhhh!”

“Okay. Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Asha promises. “You be my lookout, okay?”

“Behhhhhhh!” Valentino bleats worriedly. (You’re right Anny, this is peak dialogue)

Asha kisses his forehead and descends down the stairs. The flames cast eerie shadows on the walls.

Asha shudders and presses on.

At the bottom of the staircase is a hallway, prison cells lining the walls. At the end is a door that leads to a large library. In the center of the room, on a pedestal covered in a glass case, lies the spellbook.

It’s old and leather bound, with an orobourus wrapping around two eyes (a sparkle shape and an oval). Five points stick out of the snake, forming the shape of…

A Star.

It’s… not what Asha remembered.

Asha studies the glass cover. There’s swirly designs of… dragonflies? Curiously, she reaches out, her finger brushing the glass.

There’s a zap, and the insects burst out of the glass.

Asha shrieks and starts swatting at the bugs diving at her. A sudden, sharp pain bites her hands.

THOSE WERE DEFINITELY NOT DRAGONFLIES!

Asha spews out curses as more red-hot needles stab into her skin, running around to avoid being stung.

Avispones!

Asha rips off her sash and slips off her outer dress, running from the hornets as she ties the end into a knot. She jumps around, catching bugs in her makeshift net.

Her hands and arms are covered in stings by the end of it. Asha covers her mouth and screams. What did she do to deserve this?

“Life is so unfair,” Asha mutters as she yanks off the glass cover and flips open the book. “Fire magic… rules of a genie… how to turn your household items into your servants?” Asha peers through the pages. “I’m not even going to ask.”

Finally. Asha stops on a page with moons and stars. “How to gain magic quickly and easily,” Asha reads. “‘Simply tear out this page and use it as a sorcerer’s hat. Then, harness the magic inside.’ Kind of vague.”

The page was still intact. Figured someone as powerful as Magnus wouldn’t need the assistance.

Asha tears out the page and curls it into a cone, placing it on top of her head. Immediately, the hat starts glowing and pulsing blue. A burst of magic explodes out of Asha’s fingertip and hits a broom leaning against the shelf.

Asha covers her mouth as the broom sprouts arms and starts sweeping.

“Ohmigosh. It works,” Asha breathes. “It works! It works!”

She does a little happy dance. “Take that! Boom, baby! Although I will have to find a way to pretty you up,” she says to the hat. “You’re sort of ugly right n— hey, watch it!”

The broom nearly ramms into her leg. Asha loses her balance, and another burst of magic shoots out of her hands. It ricochets around the room, and Asha yelps and ducks.

It shoots into the makeshift net housing the hornets, and Asha swears as she scrambles up and runs from the now free hornets.

“Get away! Stop it! Go away!” Asha shrieks as she runs, blasting more magic at the devils chasing her.

The broom kept on knocking things off shelves. More bouncing magic blasts crashed around the room as Asha kept missing her attackers.

That’s when one of Asha’s magic blasts hits the spellbook.

Even the hornets freeze.

Asha holds her breath.

…

BOOM!

Asha is thrown back. She cries out as her back crashes into the shelf.

She lands on shattered glass, the shards digging into her skin. Red fills her vision.

Red.

Fire.

Smoke.

Asha can’t breathe.

She can’t move.

She gasps for air. She’s running.

Run. Run where?

Up. Up is the way the Stars go.

No Stars.

Her vision blurs.

She’s running somewhere. She sees Stars.

No, those are statues.

Star?

Painting. Get it together.

The walls are crushing in. The walls are falling. Falling onto her.

She collapses somewhere. There’s something soft. It will suffocate her. Asha crashes against the floor, clutching her throat.

Her hands are burning now. She couldn’t care less.

She can’t breathe. There’s a ringing in her ears.

Suddenly, something suffocates her.

Heavy, heavy weight. Asha chokes.

The something is pulled off her, onto her legs.

There's a new weight over her legs. An anchor.

Her hand moves on its own. Soft, something soft. But not bad soft.

Asha gasps in, and she can breathe. She drinks up the air greedily, trying to get as much oxygen as possible.

There's a soft bleat.

Fluffy. Asha is petting something fluffy.

Slowly, she regains awareness of her surroundings. She’s in her room. She’s against her bed.

She’s safe.

“Behhhhhh,” Valentino bleats.

Asha gasps in another breath. She inhales deeply, then lets it out.

Valentino had pulled down her blanket and laid his head on her legs. He was her anchor, her air.

Asha takes in another shaky breath.

"Thank you, baby," she whispers.

Valentino nuzzles his head against her leg.

They stay like that for a while.

Chapter 3

Author’s notes

Idk how I feel about this one??? Feels a bit fast but oh well. This is the inciting incident, like how movie!Asha��s was her interview with Magnifico.

Ajskahdkajskjas this is not really paced out like @annymation’s KOW fic (go check it out! It’s finished, it’s beautiful, it’s a homage to Disney’s 100th!) but oh well. I’m being stabbed in the stomach by cramps so I’ll edit it later.

The first three or four chapters will come out quick because I’ve already written the majority of them (to plot the temporality paused comic), so after that expect a bit of a delay.

As you can probably tell, I took a lot of inspiration from Puss’s panic attack from The Last Wish. As someone with frequent panic attacks, I really really appreciate how they showed the muffled surroundings, the “can’t catch your breath” feeling, and the helplessness. Valentino in the movie could’ve been nonexistent and it pretty much would’ve played out the same. TFS!Val, however… he’s a therapy animal for Asha. That weight, grounding you but still allowing you to finish your panicked thoughts… for me personally I don’t like “focusing on the moment” because the moment is usually terrible. My dog resting on my legs gives me something to come back to, like an anchor.

Love you Teddy Bear <3

I want to point out something. Yes, you do forget your wish once you give it to Magnus for safekeeping. But Magnus remembers them. He keeps them safe. Plus, he’s “powerful enough that no Star can influence him”

Yeah. If anyone has any comments about how I write Asha’s panic attack, please please let me know! Her PTSD is something that’s integral to the story’s plot, so I would really appreciate some feedback. I drew from my own experiences, but of course this does not apply to everyone and if there’s a way you feel I can improve, I promise I will not be offended.

Thanks for reading! <3

#the fallen star au #disney wish #wish 2023 #asha x star #star x asha #human star #starsha #princess asha #asha #the fallen star fic #Spotify

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