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#i wish this could be me you guys have no idea.
emphistic · 14 hours
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hi emm! Since it’s prom season could u make basketball sukuna reacting to someone from the team asking you out for prom?
A/N: hii! i actually received a vv similar request a long time ago and i deleted it because i didnt know how to write it, so maybe this is a sign from God — my redemption time, LMAO
PS: sorry to all my readers who are actually jelly lovers, i am not one of you
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“So,” Gojo started, while shoving fries into his mouth, “have you got a date yet? Prom’s comin’ up real quick, y’know?”
The basketball team had just won their last game of the season, and all the players were eating out together in celebration. Sukuna was planning on just spending the rest of the night celebrating with you, like usual, but Gojo dragged him away and you only gave a thumbs up in encouragement. What a girlfriend you were, Sukuna scoffed, handing off your dear boyfriend to Gojo Satoru.
“Why do you care?” Sukuna grimaced at Gojo’s messy eating habits. How could one dare to speak while stuffing their face? Sukuna thought Gojo grew up wealthy, and, hey, aren’t rich people supposed to be, like, super into decorum? Where is this man’s etiquette?
“Sheesh, sorry for asking. I just wanted to know if my friend here,” he nudged Sukuna with his elbow, “needed some help getting a date. No need to be ashamed, Captain. I could hook you up with one of Utahime’s friends.”
“Yeah, no. But since you’re so curious, Satoru, I do have a date, actually.”
“No way, seriously? The big, bad, captain of the basketball team, has a date? For prom? I have to tell Suguru this.” Gojo whipped out his phone and, with his sauce-covered fingers, started typing like a madman.
Sukuna cringed, looking away and biting into his burger. This did not taste as good as your cooking. Why oh why did you let Satoru take him away? he thought. Sukuna would much rather be with you right now, even if it meant having to sit through one of your godawful rom-coms. Any of those would be better than Gojo fucking Satoru.
“I cannot believe he is missing this because he’s sick. Sick! That’s actually sick of him. Haha, get it?” Gojo leaned back in his chair, and Sukuna wished he would slip and fall backwards.
“There’s nothing shocking about me having a date, Satoru. I’m not some kind of loser.”
“Yeah, well. Yorozu’s not attached to your arm right now, so I thought—”
“I told you, I don’t like her like that. I don’t like her at all, matter of fact.”
“She’s, like, obsessed with you, dude.”
“I know,” Sukuna ran a hand down his face. “Just wish she would leave me alone, I’ve been trying my best to avoid her. And I haven’t seen her as often, so I think it’s working.” If Yorozu didn’t take the hint sooner or later, Sukuna would make your guys’ relationship known to the whole campus if he had to. Hell, Gojo didn’t even know yet. No one did, actually.
“Damn, so cold. You just gonna ignore her and break her heart?” Gojo laughed, but that quickly came back to kick him in the butt when he started choking on a fry.
“If you’re not joking, that fry will be the last thing you eat. I swear on your life, I do not want anything to do with that bitch.”
Gojo continued coughing and choking and shaking, but when all subsided and the white-haired man regained most of his posture, he posed the question, “So, you’re not gonna, like, ask me?”
“Ask you what? Ask you to prom? The fuck?”
“No, no, no. I mean, unless you wanted to,” Gojo tucked an overgrown strand of hair behind his ear, a stupid expression on his stupid face. “But, I’m talking about what I asked you. So, you gonna ask me if I have a prom date?”
“I don’t give a fuck if your lame ass has a date or not,” Sukuna spat out.
“Have you any idea how hurt I am now, because of you? Ehuhwaaa,” Gojo let out the fakest ugliest cry Sukuna had ever heard. “You think my ass is lame? Do you know how many would pay to see even a glimpse of my tush?”
“No. And I hope it stays that way.”
“I—how dare you.”
That night, Sukuna had to run away from Gojo in the parking lot of an In-n-Out. Otherwise, Gojo would’ve probably never left him alone. And, you might be thinking, Gojo is a fast runner. How did Sukuna get away? Well, it may or may not have been because Gojo had scarfed down three double-doubles prior. And he could barely stand upright without having to lean against Sukuna.
But, fear not, Sukuna did make it home, into your arms. And even though he did have to sit through your stupid rom-coms, he was so fucking glad to finally be away from that white-haired idiot.
Unfortunately for Sukuna, that peace and tranquility was short-lived. The next morning, he was woken up by your overly obnoxious doorbell. Seriously, when were you going to replace it?
Sukuna groaned, whispering into your hair, “Didn’t know you were expecting visitors, babe.”
“Hm?” Your voice was muffled; your face pressed impossibly close into Sukuna’s bare chest.
“Visitor, sweetheart. Someone’s at your door.”
“Huh?” You stuck your head up from your human pillow, and though missing the warmth, you were quite confused. Visitor? Since when?
It’s safe to say you were even more surprised to see Gojo Satoru outside when you opened your door. But you weren’t the only confused one, not for long, at least. Gojo raised his brow when he saw Sukuna emerge from behind you in all his glory: shirt nowhere to be found, hair unruly, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
“Captain? What are you—?” Gojo cleared his throat, “Whatever. Anyway, will you, Y/N, do me the honor of being the jelly to my peanut butter and going to prom with me?” Gojo flashed a smile so bright Sukuna almost fell backwards.
“Uhh, I’m sorry—”
“She doesn’t even like jelly, dumbass. And what’s with this horrendous sign? That’s seriously the best you’ve got?” Sukuna gestured with his chin at the poorly drawn and colored peanut butter jar and jelly. Not to mention, Gojo was also dressed as a sandwich, with two slices of bread on either side of his body.
“What the hell? How would you know if she liked jelly or not?”
“Because I’m her prom date.”
“And—and, what are you doing at her house?”
“I’m her boyfriend.” Sukuna glared at the white male, and slung an arm around your shoulder, out of spite.
Gojo paused, finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “Ohhh. So that’s why you didn’t want to come eat with us yesterday. And that’s why you were so desperate to go home. And that’s why I haven’t seen you with another girl in months.”
“Uh huh.”
“Anywho,” Gojo turned back to you, shoving his sign all up in your face. “Will you go to prom with me?”
“Dude.”
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ithebookhoarder · 2 days
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Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.
In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)
A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.
Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️
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Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol 
Masterlist
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Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband. 
Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him. 
It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing. 
Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away. 
It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal. 
Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house). 
If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.  
Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together. 
“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”
“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”
The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.  
“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table. 
You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband. 
“Do you want me to wash your hair?”
Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”
“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”
“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”
It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 
He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father. 
It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved. 
Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.  
“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could. 
Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead. 
“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply. 
It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes. 
But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.
Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next. 
“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”
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amongemeraldclouds · 2 days
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sweet dreams
It should have been simple: boy meets girl then falls in love. Except everything only happened in his dreams. Can Theodore Nott bridge the gap between fantasy and reality to get the girl of his dreams?
Inspired by Taylor Swift's song, Guilty as Sin?
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Theodore Nott x f!Reader
Warning: Fluff, some smut so 18+ only MDNI, characters are aged up. Uses a magical concept that deviates from canon.
✿ Masterlist | 2.9k words
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Prologue
The door creaked as you swung it open to leave The Three Broomsticks, eager to breathe in the cool evening air. You scrunched your note as smoke invaded the fresh air you hoped for and turned towards the culprit, Theodore Nott. You didn’t know him personally, but guys as popular as him did not need introduction.
He didn’t notice you as he took another puff and the streetlamp cast him in a soft halo. It was not fair how some people could look so effortlessly gorgeous. 
“Want one?” He reached out when he finally saw you staring, offering you his pack of cigarettes.
You huffed, “No thanks, I was hoping for some fresh air.”
He simply shrugged and turned the other way, smoking in a different direction and out of your way.
You hoped the cool air could return some of your sobriety, but nothing was as effective as a good ol’ near de*th experience. You looked up when you heard someone shrieking from the distance, growing louder and louder until you saw a broomstick zig zag across the sky that was quickly hurtling towards you and Theo.
Theo was quicker than you, holding his wand out and casting a spell just fast enough to redirect the impact to an open space. By the time you held your wand out, you had enough wits about you to cushion the witch’s fall.
You ran towards her to make sure she was fine. She laid on the ground as if she was peacefully sleeping, oblivious to the accident. You crouched beside her, arm outstretched to wake her when-
“Oh bumbling broomstick!” She yelled out and sat upright. You yelped in surprise, yanking yourself back and landing on your bottom. Theo was there within seconds, offering you a hand.
You took it and it was unbelievably soft, his grip strong as he supported you back up from the ground. You registered the smell of alcohol and cigarettes with a subtle hint of expensive cologne. You wanted to take another whiff, but reminded yourself to focus.
“A - are you okay?” You turned back to strange woman, careful to keep your distance this time.
“That chap knows sod all about wizard engineering. Mixing magic and muggle work - ridiculous!” she spat in disdain, dusting off her dress.
She turned around, catching your worried look and Theo’s stoic expression, noticing you both for the first time. “Oh my, where are my manners?” She asked, straightening her back and introducing herself.
“I’m Miss Amelia Adams, thank you for rescuing me,” you shook hands and smiled at her politely, introducing yourselves in return.
Your eyebrows knit together as she fished around her bag, looking for something.
She beamed when she found it and held out a daisy for you. “To properly thank you, please accept this flower,” she then leaned in conspiratorially, “it grants a wish.”
She winked before gathering herself and her ‘bumbling broomstick’ as she called it. “Well, I’m off,” she declared, walking away as quickly as she had come before you had any chance to say goodbye.
You were stunned, holding the flower in your hand. You scoffed at the idea of wishes, the only way to get something is to go out there and take it. Hard work and strategy was far more effective than any wish. After a few moments of awkward silence, you turned to Theo. “That was…” you trailed off, trying to find the right word.
“Odd,” he completed for you, just as stunned as you were.
“Are you okay?” You asked Theo. He grunts and you reassured him you’re fine in return.
“Have this flower, you saved us first. Thanks, by the way. You should get the wish,” you said casually, only half believing the mysterious Miss Amelia.
He accepted it and placed it in his coat, stoic expression still in place. When he said nothing else, you turned on your heels to go back to your friends in the pub.
You paused when Theo called after you as if saying goodbye as an afterthought. “See you at school?” He said. It seems he recognized you too.
You turned around and gave him a friendly grin, “in your dreams,” you said in a playful tone. Despite being school mates, you and Theo revolved around different orbits. You experienced just enough failed relationships to know better than to start a friendship with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable.
He just smirked and watched you go before returning to his cigarette. Had he held the flower in his hand, he would have noticed it glow before bursting into tiny glitters, a wish about to come true.
That night, Theo first dreamt of you.
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Main story, months later
The booming party music faded when Theo heard the familiar sound of your laughter. He shifted in the Slytherin common room couch as his entire focus gravitated towards you like you were the sun his planet revolved around.
It was always disorienting, he thought, to hear and see you somewhere outside his dreams. Mostly because you never looked his way here but in his dreams, you’ve given him everything he ever needed and more.
He recalled the first words you ever said to him in his dream, “you again?”
“Is that such a bad thing?” He asked with his boyish grin, amused. He wasn’t used to seeing this reaction from others except for his friends.
He no longer remembered the rest of that conversation, but one minute you two were laughing at something silly and the next, he was tucked comfortably in bed. It was then he realized it was all a dream he could just laugh off and forget about. It was no longer funny by the third night he kept seeing you. 
You both discussed how absurd this all was until you realized how fun it could also be. So you tested different ways you could take your power back and control the dream you found yourselves in. He discovered you were smart and funny, it warmed something in Theo’s heart that he did not care to examine.
Soon enough, he was flying with you through the sky, swerving through clouds as the stars blurred past like strings of fairy lights. You both flew like it was the most natural thing in the world, no broomsticks needed. He felt like a kid again, fearless and free.
One time, he went to a muggle amusement park you heard so many great things about. You rode on roller coasters and ferris wheels then ate candy floss. You would have gotten a fever the next day from all the sugar and shouting if not for the fact this all happened in your dreams. He had never felt happier.
On quiet nights, you laid on cool grassy hills enjoying the evening breeze. Sometimes, you watched sunsets on the beach while listening to the ocean waves. Those were his favorite days. You told him about your big plans and ambitions. He tried to stifle his smiles, but your energy was so infectious. The world felt bigger and brighter when he was around you. 
He’d tell you about his mother. How close they were before they were permanently separated. He said he kept her alive by remembering their happy moments that he’d tell you stories about. He also talked about his strained relationship with his father and how silly his friends were, but oh how he’d d*e for them.
He found himself spilling thoughts and secrets he could never tell anyone else. He stammered every now and then, not used to opening up, but you were so patient. He felt safe with you because you’re a good listener. Besides, wasn’t he basically just talking to a figment of his imagination? He tried not to overthink it.
Theo felt the couch beside him dip as the familiar smell of smoke and cologne announced Mattheo’s presence. “Want to go for a smoke?” He asked with a smirk as he flashed a joint.
“Later, okay?” Theo replied distracted, his focus still on you.
A student rose from the couch and moved away as Lorenzo approached. Thanks to their popularity, the boys always seemed to find a convenient seat when they needed it. He joined the two with a grin, drinks in hand. Mattheo took in Enzo’s disheveled hair and loose tie. He accepted the drink and gave him a high five knowing he already had his conquest for the night. Theo accepted the drink and just held it.
“Who’s the lucky girl?” Mattheo asked, taking a swig from his cup.
Enzo blushed and took a sip of his drink. “You know I never kiss and tell.”
Mattheo rolled his eyes in response, “until you’re drunk enough.” He pushed Enzo’s cup back to his mouth. “Come on, drink up.”
Theo tuned out the conversation and he saw you dancing with your friends, your hips moving to the beat of the music. His eyes darkened as he remembered how those hips rocked into his. It didn’t take long before you first kissed him under the stars when the conversation died down, simply because there was nothing else to say.
All other thoughts and sentiments could only be expressed in the way your fingers gripped his wavy hair, when he bit your bottom lip and you moaned against him. Before he knew it, you were reciting his name like a prayer even though it felt anything but sacred when he slammed his hips into your dripping cunt. He savoured the way your nails scratched his back. He didn’t know until then how someone’s grip could make him feel so wanted.
He always made sure you knew he how much he appreciated you:
“Fuck, you’re taking me so well amore.” 
“I’ll make you feel so good principessa, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”
“You’re so beautiful when you’re on your knees,” he’d say as he stuffed his hard length down your throat.
He memorized your shape and knew just where to touch you to be rewarded with your filthy moans and curses. He liked making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Loud screams, sheets gripped, chest heaving. He took delight in the way you came undone for him, your little whimpers were so cute he could not resist thrusting faster into you so he could feel you clench against his desperate cock again and again.
His favorite part was after he came inside you when you swiped your finger on your upper thigh and brought his spilled seed to your lips. You said you loved the way he tastes. He always said you could have as much as you want, he was all yours and you were his.
“Theo, mate?” Blaise called out to the unresponsive boy who gazed intently at the crowd.
He turned to Mattheo and narrowed his eyes, “how much weed did you give him?” Blaise couldn’t help but worry about his friends, it was exhausting really. Mattheo pushed Theo outside his comfort zone whereas Theo pulled Mattheo back in when he went to extremes. They always kept each other in check, but he was worried that balance could tip off at any moment. 
“Easy on the accusation, he’s a big boy. He can do what he wants,” Mattheo replies defensively. “Besides he hasn’t taken any green, he’s too high on that girl already. Been eye fucking her all night.” 
Mattheo’s harsh words finally cut through Theo’s daydreams and his jaw twitched in annoyance, “I’m not. You should talk about her more respectfully.”
Enzo chimed in, “you know I hate agreeing with Mattheo, but he’s right.” Ignoring Mattheo’s de*th glare, he continued, “there’s nothing respectful about the way you’ve been looking at that poor girl.”
Theo just rolled his eyes and groaned, not wanting to discuss this with his friends. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know where to start. Instead, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for a smoke,” and walked away before anyone could protest or go with him.
As he walked, his thoughts returned to you. One day, you laughed because of his jokes. He laughed because he was in love with you.
It was all so ridiculous, but it had been months and he could no longer deny his feelings. He always thought love was overrated. How can others go out there declaring love like it’s a wild adventure you’re about to embark on? Love that you would fight and break for? He didn’t want an adventure nor a battlefield.
Then there was you and he realized everything he knew about love had only been one version of it. Being with you restored his breath and calmed the butterflies in his stomach. It’s a love that did not challenge him to be better, but instead told him he is already good enough. That he was always enough. It’s the kind of love that felt like home. It’s what he never knew he needed.
You haunted him even when he was awake. He was always tempted to approach you to see if the things he saw in his head could be real. His only clue was the way you wore ribbons in your hair and how it matched your mood to the stories you’d tell him.
He noticed you wore red when you were angry like the time you had to do a group project by yourself. You wore blue when you felt sad and green when you felt generally peaceful. His favorite was pink because it meant you were happy. He noticed how the closer you got, you wore the pink ribbon more often. But today, you wore a black ribbon. He had never seen it before and it worried him. Then again it was only a theory, maybe it didn’t mean anything.
So he always talked himself out of approaching you. Theodore Nott was used to broken things whereas everything with you and about you was perfect. He knew at the very least to leave it well enough alone.
His thoughts carried him to the Astronomy Tower where he lit his cigarette and stared at the evening sky.
“You always seem to be polluting the fresh air I go out for.” Something in his heart froze and then burned brightly. It was you. He heard the smile in your voice before he turned around to look at you. Salazar, you were so beautiful.
“You always seem to find me when you need fresh air. Are you sure you’re not just looking for me?” He teased, but nevertheless moved to extinguish his cigarette. 
You chuckled at Mr. Arrogant who always knew his way around girls. “I was joking, keep your cigarette though your lungs probably hate you.”
He scoffed, he already hated himself. But mostly, he hated how desperately he wanted to reach out and kiss you without being a total creep. “I’ll survive,” he replied, taking a final drag before snuffing it out. “What brings you here?”
“Aside from the not-so-fresh air?” You grinned before turning serious. “This is a nice place to think.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Salazar, he’s relentless. “I’m in an impossible situation and I’m starting to lose hope,” you admit. So that’s what the black is for, Theo realized.
He scrunched his nose as he thought twice about what he was about to say. It was so silly trying to hold back when he’d give you the moon and the stars if you asked for it. “Whatever it is, you shouldn’t lose hope.”
You laughed at him and let out an exaggerated gasp, “coming from Mr. Emotionally Unavailable?”
He laughed in return, “ah, my reputation precedes me.”
“Exactly, so don’t go around saying things like that. People might think you have a heart behind that big brain of yours.”
“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” He leaned in conspiratorially.
“No, everyone would stare at you then.”
“You know it’s rude to stare.”
“Oh yeah? What should I do instead?” You challenged.
“Kiss me,” he said with a smirk, a half joke and a half plea.
You laughed and took a step back, placing distance between you. So this was how he got girls, you mused.
Salazar, he was losing you. If he was going to try, he had to be sincere. No charms, no masks. “Amore, I…” he began but grew self conscious at the nickname. “I mean, I wanted to…” he started then stopped. “I wonder if…” he tried again.
“I know,” you said, fire burning behind your eyes at recognition. This was the boy of your dreams. Awkward when he tries to be sincere and it was so adorable. It always made you feel special because you knew he had walls for the rest of the world. But with you, he was at home.
You closed the distance to meet his lips and the kiss said everything he needed to know. All those evenings together talking beneath starlit skies, exploring flesh and soul, falling in love. They were real.
His hands found the curve of your hips so naturally as he pulled you closer against him, just like he’s done countless times. He savoured the way your fingers made their way through his hair. Everything felt electric, at once new and familiar. It was better than anything you had dreamed of.
When you both broke for air, you found yourself blinking in disbelief. “How do we both have the same dreams?”
Theo just shook his head as if to say he didn’t know but then he remembered your first meeting. There was a witch with a bumbling broomstick and a flower. His eyes widened. “The flower from all those months ago.”
Your eyes lit up with remembrance, “the mysterious Miss Amelia!” You brought your hand to your lips, “I didn’t think it was real. I said you’d see me in your dreams.”
“And now you’re my dream come true, amore,” he said, pulling you in for a hug.
 You giggled at how sweet Mr. Not So Emotionally Unavailable could be. “And you’re mine. See you tonight then?”
He chuckled, “and then tomorrow I’ll take you on a real date?”
You scrunched your face, “but now we can’t fly through the stars anymore.”
“Oh, I have other ideas,” he whispered in your ear.
Your heart leapt to your throat and anticipation hummed in your veins. After all, some things were sweeter than dreams.
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✿ Masterlist
A/N: I've mostly written for Enzo and Mattheo until now but when I thought of this plot, I just knew only Theo could do it justice. So this is how I wound up writing my first Theo fic. Hope you liked it!
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tiredfox64 · 2 days
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Hello, I hope you are feeling very well ^^
I really liked your fic "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder"
Can I request a sequel with the reaction of the others in the clan when Tomas and the reader officially become a couple? Can I request something from nsfw too? The others are surprised to notice some marks on the necks of Tomás and the reader 👀
If you don't like this or it bothers you, ignore it, you have every right ;)
Beauty Never Ends Even In Bed
Prior notes: I love this man. I need this man. My head hurts just thinking about him. That could be the heat as well.
Pairing: Tomas x Afab Reader
Warnings ‼️: NSFW, biting, hickeys (that’s the freaking point)
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The girls in the clan were quite shocked to see your return. Not only did you save the Shirai Ryu lots of time by nabbing yourself a Lin Kuei assassin but you came back with a boyfriend. The looks on their face when they saw you and Tomas going into your room was priceless. It was like looking at a bunch of fish in an aquarium.
You and Tomas talking about what happened before. Why you shut him out and isolated yourself from everyone. He was sad and disappointed at the fact that there were people in the clan who showed cruelness. He would kick them out if he could but that wasn’t his call to make plus they really needed the numbers. He made a promise to you that they won’t bother you anymore.
Ever heard the term show don’t tell? Well y’all showed everyone that you guys were in a relationship.
Blotches of dark red that blends in with a faded purple are scattered on his and yours neck. A sign of a good time from the night prior. The hickeys of Tomas’ neck really stand out compared to his pale skin. He was the first to get noticed and teased for them. All the men were cheering him on. Boys will be boys.
And the ladies, oh they were jealous. They saw those same beautiful marks not just on your neck but on your chest as well. And just look at that beautiful bruise Tomas left on your shoulder from biting you. He really wanted to show everyone you were his. He made that clear while you guys were at it.
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A heated make out session was going on in your room. One full of passion and heavy breathing. Tomas’ tongue swirled around yours. He held your face in a loving manner as the excitement grew. The only barrier between you two are your clothes. Take it off!
Tomas was about to start taking his uniform off because you stopped him. You hesitated because your confidence still wasn’t fully back.
“Are you sure you want to do this with me?” You asked.
Tomas looked at you with a bit of sadness. He wished you didn’t need to question his decision but he understood you were still dealing with those harsh words from before. He took your hand and squeezed it tight.
“I’m positive. There is not other girl out there who I would trust to be vulnerable with. I only want you. I can promise you that.” His tone didn’t fail him. He spoke the truth and you felt it in your soul.
You nodded your head before taking your hand back to start stripping. Tomas did the same but he would sneak glances at you. Soon you stood before him with nothing on. All your features were on display for him as you sat pretty on your bed. You were looking away all shy. You were missing how Tomas looked at you as if you were a goddess that he was blessed to see.
“Beautiful…” he whispered before taking you into his arms.
He peppered kisses all over you. First on your face and then down to your neck. His kisses on your neck caused you to shiver in pleasure. You were practically melting in his arms. Suddenly Tomas had an idea. A brilliant one. You felt his start to suck on a your neck.
“Wait—that’s gonna leave a hickey.” You warned him.
“That’s exactly the point.”
You got it now. You let him continue, embracing the pleasure that came from it. His hands wandered all over you, grabbing and squeezing wherever he could. The feeling of your soft skin drove him crazy.
More and more hickeys were made. They were scattered on your neck in different sizes. Tomas pushed you down onto your back while his lips traveled down to your breasts. He started sucking at your flesh, causing more hickeys to appear. As he focused on one of your breasts his hand reached up to massage the other. His fingers gently pinched your nipple causing you to whimper at the sensation. That noise you made excited him enough to make his cock twitch. He did the same thing to your other breast to make sure it was all even. Once he was done he looked down at his masterpiece. The hickeys looked so pretty on you. He should do this more often.
“Are you still okay with going forward with this?” He asked softly.
You nodded you head frantically. You were definitely ready. Your legs were spread for him and he saw how you were practically dripping wet. Tomas can’t deny that he felt some sense of pride in him. Seeing that he made you this excited would make any man’s ego rise. He angled himself correctly before slowly pushing in. There was little resistance which just proves how ready you were.
Once Tomas was fully in you both let out a satisfied whimper. The pleasure was euphoric. He was incredibly thick and it stretched you out nicely. You felt so warm and plush inside. He couldn’t hold himself back and he started thrusting into you.
You had your arms wrapped around his neck. Your eyes were closed due to the pleasure. But his eyes stayed on you as he thrusted away. He wanted to look into those beautiful eyes of yours as you two made love.
“Please look at me, beautiful. Would you mind doing that for me?” He spoke so softly and lovingly how could you resist.
Your eyes slowly opened to look up at him. Gosh he looked so handsome. You loved watching his eyes roll back sometimes as he bit his lip. That’s what good pussy does to a man.
A symphony of groans, pants, whimpers, and soft moans bounced off the walls. Tomas started to go rougher and faster to the point the bed frame started to creak. You held each other close. Skin to skin, heartbeat matching heartbeat. You decided to return the favor from before since Tomas was close to you. Your lips latched onto his neck where you proceeded to give him a hickey. He was surprised by how sensitive he was to it. Your lips on his neck made the whole experience ten times better. His hands started to grip the bedsheets as he focused on not cumming inside you yet.
You left your love marks on his neck. The heat of the moment caused you to go a little crazy. They were scattered all over. Tomas won’t mind it just shows how much you love him. You sure do love him a whole lot.
His thrusts started to grow sloppy and your moans grew louder. You both were close. What better way to bond than cumming together.
“I don’t think I can last any longer. Please, please, please let me cum in you, my dearest.” He sounded so desperate it was so cute.
Your heart fluttered at the nickname and caused you clench around his cock. That’s enough evidence to show you were just as close as well.
“Please cum in me. I need you. Please keep going, Tomas.” You begged and he delivered.
After a few thrusts you two were on cloud nine. He slammed into you before biting down on your shoulder. It was natural instincts. He groaned while biting down. The pleasure from your orgasm and pain from the bite was a delicious combination that made you let out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you while it spilled cum inside of you was unforgettable. Your pussy was milking him just to get every last drop. The best part was hearing him mumble something as it all happened.
“Mine, mine, all mine, my pretty girl, so pretty, fuck, you’re all mine…”
Well your confidence surely came back with that one. Oh Tomas couldn’t help himself. He just loves you so much.
You two stayed there for a good bit, trying to catch your breaths after that wonderful experience. Eventually he pulled out and laid next to you. He pulled you in for a cuddle, rubbing your back gently as he placed kisses on your forehead. You snuggled up against him with little to no worried in your head. All you could think about was Tomas and the love you have for him. Before you passed out you heard him whisper something in your ear.
“I love you. I love everything about you…”
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How was your trip down memory lane? Was it a good one? Good, wonderful, now get back to the present. You have important matters to get to.
But before you could move on those group of girls who used to bully you came walking up. They looked like they were determined to do something but what.
“I don’t know who you are fooling but I can tell those hickeys are just makeup.” One girl said as she pointed to your neck.
“Yeah, why don’t you stop acting like you and Tomas are a thing and get over it.” Another one added on.
Before the others could add their own nasty words, Tomas came up behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist.
“My dearest, what’s the matter? These girls seem to be upset by something.” He acted clueless but knew what these girls were up to. That’s why he placed a kiss on your neck which shocked the girls.
“Oh nothing, they are just confused. They just can’t seem to take the hint.” You answered back.
Tomas picked you up as you giggled and carried you away. The girls were too stunned to speak. They were hella wrong. They were in fact the background characters on this story. You were the main character who got her happy ending with her love interest. That is evident to everyone.
Have I told you that you are beautiful and loved? Well imma remind you again.
After notes: The heat is causing me to get sick and get cramps. Tomorrow will be worse and I have to go to campus where the sun beats down on us. I’m gonna kombat the sun. Adiós!
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eggyrocks · 20 hours
Note
Hi!! I really love your work and congrats on getting 500 followers!! i was wondering if you could write #83 with mattsun?? thank you!!
yes yes yes i love this prompt fhjdkjkhlj i hope i do it justice
500 follower special: #83 “It’s always been you.”
mattsun x gn reader, friends to lovers, party setting, language, not proofread
written content masterlist
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They picked a bathroom to hide in, them and Matsukawa. Outside the closed and locked bathroom door, is a crowd of drunk people listening to loud, bad music with the lights off. But inside that small, cramped bathroom, they sit with their back against the edge of the bathtub, legs stretched out towards Matsukawa, who leans against the opposite wall, his legs resting on top of theirs.
They like it better like this. When it's just them.
"Oikawa's gonna be mad at you," they say casually, holding a plastic cup up to their lips as they speak, trying to hide their self-satisfied grin. "This is the third person he's tried to set you up with that you've bailed on."
Matsukawa snickers, arms loosely crossed over his chest. Out there somewhere is his 'date,' probably bored and probably looking for him. They almost feel bad for whoever it is. They would feel worse if Matsukawa hadn't explicitly told Oikawa not to do this again.
And maybe they're just a little too overjoyed that he's here with them, again, instead of Oikawa's matchmaker experiment, to feel bad. Maybe their chest is fluttering at the idea that they're Matsukawa's first choice for company.
"Who cares? He's always up in arms about something," Matsukawa shrugs. "He'll get over it."
There's a knock on the door. Three loud, impatient bangs. "Occupied!" they call out to whoever's on the other side, not looking away from Matsukawa as they do.
From the other side, there's a groan, and retreating footsteps. Neither one of them feel too bad; they've got several other options, in a house like this.
"What about you?" Matsukawa asks, nodding his head in their direction. "Didn't you ditch the guy you came here with?"
That they do feel a bit bad for. The what's-his-name they showed up with seemed nice enough, they figured. And they had resolved before showing up to this stupid party that they would at least make an honest effort to stay by his side for the majority of the night.
But all it took was one look at Matsukawa from across the room, and they abandoned all of their resolve. All he had to do was smirk, and they were trailing behind him, obedient.
It always ends up like this. Just them.
"Eh," they respond with a shrug of their own, placing their cup on the floor beside them. "I don't think he's really my type."
Matsukawa scoffs. "You say that about everyone. I'm starting to think no one's your type."
Heat creeps up their neck. "Yeah, well you reject every-"
There's more knocks on the door, these ones more aggressive. Matsukawa lifts a leg off of theirs and jams the heel of his foot into the door. "Occupied," he says, voice low and not too concerned.
"Oikawa's looking for you two fuckers," the voice from the other side of the door, and they immediately recognize it to be Iwaizumi's. "And if he keeps annoying me about it, I'm gonna tell him where you are."
"Got it," Matsukawa calls back, eyes still heavy on them as he speaks. "Thanks Iwa."
They can hear Iwaizumi scoff as he retreats. Matsukawa gestures for them to continue. "Go on," he instructs.
"I was just saying," they continue, almost wishing they didn't have to; it's a dangerous line of conversation, "you can't really talk, since you've turned down every single person that's ever been interested in you."
And there's this sort of shift in the way Matsukawa looks at them. He lowers his gaze, and he leans forward, just a touch. "Have you ever thought," he starts, his voice shooting right through them, "that maybe there's a reason for that?"
They're not sure if their desperation for him is making them imagine something that's not there, for if there's a new light in his eyes, that he's looking at them differently. They swallow. "You're picky, is what I always thought."
Matsukawa sighs, and leans back against the wall. "Nah, you're way off."
"Well, then tell me," they insist, and now they're the one inching closer. There's a light knock on the door once more. "Fuck off," they spit out unceremoniously. "What's the reason, Issei?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Why do you wanna know so bad?" he questions.
Their face flushes, and they suddenly feel caught. They force themself to relax, shoulders slumping. "I mean, I dunno. I guess it's just...interesting."
Matsukawa removes his legs from theirs and sits cross-legged in front of them, inching closer. "What's so interesting about it, then?"
The small space of the bathroom suddenly feels much hotter than it did before, like the bright, yellow lights are heating up and burning them. Matsukawa does not once look away from them. "Is it so bad to wanna know things about you?" they question, unable to think of anything else reasonable when he's looking at them like that.
He looks over the details of their face, eyes roaming from the bridge of their nose to their shinning eyes to the curve of their lips. They feel like they can't breathe, when he looks at them like that. "I guess not," he answers softly and evenly. "It's you."
Their mouth feels like it's full of sand. "What?"
Matsukawa reaches forward and loops his fingers around the belt loops of their jeans, and he pulls them closer, sliding them against the tiled floor until their nose almost touches his. The sudden proximity makes their breath catch in their throat.
"I don't want them because they're not you," he says, eyes lowered.
Their eyes are wide and fixed on his, heart beating rapidly in the base of their throat. And they've lost all grip on their thoughts, head now full of buzzing static. All they can focus on his Matsukawa, and the way their body reacts to him.
"The reason I reject everyone is you," he tells them. "It's always been you."
For a moment, his words hang in the air. They don't settle in. They won't really settle in for a while. All that matters to them now is the way Matsukawa is looking at them, eyes intense and unwavering, "Issei," they finally breathe out, able to manage it because his name is one of the few comprehensible thoughts spinning in their head. "I want you."
The words come from them without much consideration of their meaning or implication, but it's true. They do want him. They've always wanted him. And it doesn't take much else for Matsukawa to smirk, and reach his hands up to cup their face, gently pulling them in closer.
And then-
"You two!" Oikawa's voice from the other side of the door rings out, accompanied by his fists slamming against the wood. "I am so sick of you two! Get out here and socialize with everyone else for once! God, with the amount of them you guys have been hiding you better've hooked up by now!"
Matsukawa doesn't even react, like he doesn't even hear the words of his friend as his eyes flutter shut, and his lips finally crash against theirs.
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an: another one down....im afraid i'll be writing these forever......(also first time writing mattsun pls let me know what u think im afraid lmafo)
taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @pinkiscool @michivrse (complete form linked in navigation to be added pls, send me a msg if you would like to be removed)
(my first time remembering to tag ppl in written content <3)
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jq37 · 1 day
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Are we sure Sandralynn wasn't cursed with like. Shit taste?
It's def a real mixed bag, though I think besides Bobby it's more just wild choices than straight up bad choices.
Bobby Dawn: Regular Freak. Liar, Frumpy, Wrong. Cheated on his wife and then ruined another woman's life over it. This is not a a ranking so I'm not giving him a score but I almost wish it was so I could give him a comically low number. Actually, there aren't any rules here. I still can. Negative infinity and kick rocks. If I was Sandra Lynn's friend I would be *begging* for her to love herself (or at least have a better sense of self preservation) and RUN GIRL.
Gilear Faeth: Gilear was a successful, hot elf before his loser energy kicked in because of his curse. Wasn't he like a diplomat or something? Like, Gilear now is a loveable loser but Gilear then was probably kind of a catch. And hell, Fabian's mom likes loser Gilear and she's a pretty hot commodity herself. As Sandra Lynn's friend I would be doing cartwheels if she moved on from Bobby to be with Gilear. 1000% improvement. And, for what it's worth, so is loser Gilear. Most guys would be frankly.
Gorthalax: Def seems a bit reactionary to go from a cleric of Sol to one of Sol's fallen angels turned devils. But Gorthalax is a nice guy from what we've seen and as a devil of gluttony he prob can conjure up some killer date night food. I think that if I could get over the shock of him being a MAJOR DEVIL, as Sandra Lynn's friend, I could warm to the idea. And he's not Bobby Dawn so instant improvement. However, as there was infidelity involved this would be another GIRL WHAT? reaction from me. But again, less about the guy himself, more about the decision to cheat.
Jawbone: OK so the thing about Jawbone is that I think he's great and a super good person and he's Brennan's semi-self insert so of course I love him. But he would also be an insane person to know IRL. Like, the stories he tells so casually. I think I'd be like, uh are you sure about this one? But he seems to have at least mostly chilled out now that he's working with kids and I think he's a really great guy. There's maybe a risk of contracting Lycanthropy but I'm sure they're using whatever protection you use for that. Solid guy as long as you're cool with his past.
Garthy: When Garthy was introduced, 80% of the fandom was instantly thirsting over them so objectively, "Garthy is hot" is a pretty mainstream opinion. And even if you (like myself) were in the 20% of people not thirsting over them, they're still very clearly a good person between raising Ayda and being super into self care (I loved the scene with them and Mercer's char in PoL). Also they're just really cool conceptually. So again, very normal person for Sandra Lynn to wanna hook up with. The problem, once again, is the infidelity. Especially because Jawbone was willing to have an open relationship! He closed the relationship for her! She took an L here for no reason!
So, to recap: shitty guy, good guy (who was cursed), devil (who is a good guy* and also an affair partner), good guy (with a wild past), and hot pirate (who is a good person* and also an affair partner).
*I don't remember if they knew Sandra Lynn was in a relationship when they were hooking up with her and am not factoring that into my judgement.
Besides Bobby Dawn, the rest of her choices were pretty OK (unless I'm forgetting stuff). Wild and with no obvious connecting thread--she absolutely has a rogue's gallery to rival Batman's--but it seems like the problems she had with relationships came down more to stuff other than, "She picked an objectively bad guy."
She really has the most inconsistent taste ever. I can't even begin to categorize what her type is. Gilear and Garthy should never been on any list together besides, "NPCs with G names."
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waynes-multiverse · 3 days
Text
Plastic Hearts – Part 23
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Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader
Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.
Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut, fluff, angst, quiet hurt & a touch of heartbreak
Word Count: 5.7k
A/N: Oh, you'll hate me again for ending it like this. Have fun, guys 😂
<< 22 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
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23. Every Breath You Take
“More?” Dean offers the half-emptied wine bottle and holds it over Y/N’s glass as they sit around the dinner table. The actress throws him a raised look with a little smile playing on her lips.
“Are you trying to get me drunk? You don’t have to. I’m already sleeping here,” she points out in amusement.
“Yeah, but when you’re buzzed, you let me do more shit.” The green-eyed director smirks.
“Ew, Dad!” Claire groans next to him. “I’m right here. This is why I don’t wanna do family dinner with you guys.”
“This was actually a nice idea,” Y/N says with a smile so bright it shows her dimples. “Thanks for cooking tonight. Perfect way to start our last week of filming.”
Dean’s heart stings slightly at her words, but he covers it with a tight smile. The last three weeks passed by rather quickly, and each week, he grew more worried, more nervous, more depressed, and more anxious. This was it. Seven more days before it all imploded. Six more nights before he might not see her again.
He has been wracking his brain, trying to come up with solutions to save the show – to keep her. Cas and Jo are out on fairs, networking with networks and showing their tape to other producers in hopes of getting picked up by someone else, still without any success.
“So, uh, any plans so far? Heard some of the girls are going to auditions, looking for other jobs,” Dean notes and nurses his beer. He doesn’t hold it against them. It’s the business, after all, and everyone’s trying to survive and find their next paycheck.
Y/N bobs her head and sets her wine glass down. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking about taking your advice and going to New York for auditions. I like the idea of doing theater or maybe even a musical.”
Dean forces a supportive smile on his face and hides the heartbreak in his ribcage. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great at it.”
“But, uhm, for now, I’m actually driving to San Diego in a few days for an audition for a musical. I’m not gonna get it, but I figured it’d be fun,” she tells him, and even though she downplays it, Dean can see the excitement sparkling in her eyes.
“Oh, c’mon, why wouldn’t you get it?” he encourages her. He promised himself he’d always be her cheerleader, no matter his own feelings on the subject. He’s trying a new thing these days – it’s called being less selfish.
But God, he hopes she gets it. San Diego is a lot closer to LA than New York.
Y/N snorts into her glass, chuckling. “It’s a Sondheim musical, Dean. I’m not expecting to get it. It’s just good practice.”
“Aiming high, huh?” Dean laughs despondently and takes a big gulp of beer to choke down his tears.
Dammit, Dean thinks. He wishes he could call the dude and tell him what a great woman and actress Y/N is. He’d be lucky to have her in his production. Maybe the director could bribe him to hire her? Would that take things too far?
“How are you gonna get down there?” Dean’s eyes drift to the leg in a cast that rests on a chair next to him.
Y/N gives him a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take the bus?”
“I’ll drive you,” he says with a swig of his beer. See? Supportive. He’s really proud of himself, although he wishes he were a lot drunker right now.
“Ooh, uh, Claire, I borrowed two dresses from Alex for you. I put them in your room. You need to pick one for your Winter Formal,” Y/N tells his daughter with a bright smile.
But Claire shakes her head with teenage defiance. “I don’t need a dress. Jack and I are going ironically.”
Dean’s brow furrows in confusion as he blinks at his kid. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Claire rolls her eyes in response and groans. “Ugh, Dad, you’d think for someone who lived through counterculture, you’d understand.” With that, she gets up from the dinner table and takes her empty plate to the kitchen sink.
“I know what she means,” Y/N mumbles nonchalantly.
Dean’s bewildered gaze darts to her. “Really? What?”
Y/N coolly shrugs her shoulders as she sips on her wine before she sighs defeatedly. “Fine, I don’t know. I just wanted to sound cooler than you,” she admits with a cute smile.
Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“I’m going to bed. Good night! Don’t be too loud!” Claire yells before the door to her room slams shut.
Dean watches Y/N as she leans back in her chair with a blissful sigh and empties her glass. She has pretty much spent every night at his place since the hospital. At this point, the director has gotten so used to it that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one night she didn’t. Why can’t it stay this way?
He never thought he’d be someone who wants to have family dinners every night.
“Too tired for dessert?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk.
Y/N laughs lightly. “I wish one of these days you’d offer me actual dessert,” she quips.
“Like what? Chocolate cake? Pie? I’d actually love some pie. Maybe we should get one for tomorrow night,” Dean muses, chuckling.
Y/N grins mischievously at him and leans her elbows on the dinner table, resting her chin in her palms. “Maybe you can eat pie off of me.”
Dean curls his lips, his cheeks blushing at the idea alone. His dick seems to like it, too. “God, I love… your brain,” he quickly corrects his course before the wrong words slip out.
And it’s not like it isn’t true. While Y/N hasn’t been able to act and tumble around the ring, she’s been coming up with storylines and basically coordinated matches for the past three episodes. She’s also constantly by his side and mans the booth with him. If Dean didn’t sleep with her and like her, he’d actually be scared she’s coming for his job. She’s pretty much directing at this point, and he just lets her because, well, did he actually ever care?
But his declaration is only a small part of the truth, the full truth being that he loves more than just her damn brain and has for a long while. He’s been trying to say the words for weeks now, started and stopped a hundred times, and tried to pack his feelings into a coherent sentence that honestly shouldn’t be more than three words long.
However, those are some big three words. Monstrous for Y/N. And deep down, Dean knows she might feel like he does, too, but can’t admit it and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. To her, this little arrangement between them is nothing more than friends who fuck. Only Dean’s aware that they’re actually in a deeply serious relationship, which is maddeningly ridiculous.
But hey, if he keeps his mouth shut, they might make it another five years like this without Y/N running away, so that’s something.
Dean then rises from his seat and offers his hands to Y/N. Her leg is still in a cast, so she has been wobbling around on crutches or hopping clumsily across a room. It’s pretty darn cute.
“Thank you,” Y/N says gratefully as Dean helps her up and slings her arm around his neck before he fully hoists her into his arms. She giggles as he carries her into the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this every night, you know. I can walk just fine.”
“Says you, but truth is, you’ve never seen yourself walk on these things. It’s pathetic,” he teases her and plops her carefully down on the bed.
He flings off his shirt and removes his jeans and underwear as Y/N unbuttons her blouse. The mattress dips as he climbs into the bed and helps her discard her pants. It’s routine at this point, but Dean has really started to cherish the stability. Every morning when he wakes up and smiles at her, he loves knowing that he’ll fall asleep right next to her at night all over again.
Gently, he spreads her legs and slots between them. His lips find hers in the moonlit dark and kiss her with deep affection and burning love, always pouring his whole heart into each kiss and hoping one of these days it’ll stick.
Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he rolls it over his throbbing length and positions his dickhead at her entrance, slipping into her tight channel till she’s full of him. Her lips part as the same little gasp escapes her that he hears every time he enters her. He loves hearing that noise almost as much as he loves to hear the big one when she comes and the medium ones in-between.
Sometimes, Dean makes her come before, but on nights like these, when she’s already had half a bottle of wine, he rather works quick. While wine makes her louder and more daring, it also renders her quite sleepy.
“Fuck,” she sighs and closes her eyes with a euphoric smile, her pussy gripping his cock tight as she clenches around him. “You’re always so good at that.”
Dean smiles amusedly. Wine makes her chatty, too. “I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” he remarks.
“Well, I guess I just-… I just love your cock,” she says bluntly and grins up at him. “And those lips.”
See? Wine.
“These ones?” Dean asks teasingly and leans down, pulling one of her nipples between them till she squirms.
“Uh-huh, yes…” she moans softly and cards her hands through his hair, causing a groan to pass his lips. “And that tongue.”
“This one?” Dean lets his tongue roll over that same nipple till it peaks, feeling her arch her back underneath him.
“Yes, and God, those hands and fingers…” she almost whines.
“Those two?” Dean snakes a hand between their bodies, two of his fingers finding her clit and drawing tickling circles.
There’s no more strength left for words. She bites harshly down on her bottom lip and nods vividly. Her cunt clutches him tightly, eliciting a giddy chuckle from him. He loves making her squirm.
Three more squeezes, and he knows he has to move before she grows impatient. He knows her well by now, knows every little detail about her, and loves that he does. They haven’t even been able to do half the things he wants to do to her due to her current injury and inability to move (or bend) as freely.
And yet, he’s still not fucking bored, not in the slightest. He keeps waiting for it, but it never comes.
On the contrary, he appreciates the feeling of knowing someone so deeply and intimately as he knows Y/N. She has become a part of his soul, and he doesn’t know if he could ever cut her out without severely hurting himself. He’s not sure if he could survive a wound this deep.
“Dean, please…”
That was the fourth – like clockwork.
Dean manages to thrust twice before loud punk rock music shakes the walls and drowns out every noise in the entire house. Hell, the whole neighborhood can probably hear it.
Frustrated, his head drops momentarily to Y/N’s shoulder as the actress snorts a giggle. He can feel her body and cunt trembling around him, but not for the reason it should.
“Claire!” Dean shouts angrily. “Turn that fucking music down! Y/N’s trying to sleep!”
“No, she’s not!” his kid yells back through the wall and the unbearable music. “I know you guys are having sex! I don’t wanna hear anything!”
“We’re not having sex,” Dean barks and watches as Y/N gapes at him in sheer playfulness.
“Wow, you lie like that to your kid?” she teases him.
“What d’you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m inside of her now’?” Dean retorts wryly, making Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter as she snorts into his shoulder. “Can you please stop laughing while I’m trying to fuck you? My soldier’s already retreating.”
But Y/N only laughs harder at that, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dean’s lips purse with a sigh through his nose. She then exhales a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself. He’s seen her do this very move a hundred times during an acting scene.
She clears her throat and tries to force a more serious look onto her features. “How about a little Russian motivation?” she says in her infamous accent and smiles when his cock twitches in agreement. “Maybe some oral manipulation, yes?”
“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grins and leans down to capture her lips. “God, I love yo… your pussy,” he quickly corrects himself once more. That was a close one.
Alright, don’t look at him like that and don’t judge him. He’s trying. He really is.
But Jesus fucking Christ, he loves living these days. Who knew his forties would be the best time of his life?
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With a big yawn, Y/N rubs her eyes and stretches her arms over her head. The shower in the main bathroom is running with Dean already in it. She grabs her crutches and hops to the window, opening the blinds to let some sunlight in.
She takes a deep breath and enjoys the morning silence for a moment, her gaze drifting out the quiet neighborhood. It has never been this peaceful in the motel. The last three weeks, she has really appreciated waking up in Dean’s bed. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at this point, but he hasn’t kicked her to the curb yet, so she hasn’t been in a hurry to return to the motel, either.
He was right – the memory foam mattress is fucking heaven, especially with a broken ankle.
All in all, she imagined being benched for the show would be a lot worse than it is. Dean’s done a great job of incorporating her anywhere outside of the ring. She’s helping with storylines, training, directing, producing – really anything that could use a few tweaks. The green-eyed director is unfashionably nice to her. Maybe it’s the sex or their friendship or a combination of both. Either way, she’s grateful for him.
However, there’s this tiny voice inside her head that keeps telling her there’s a reason why Dean’s been so nice, and it’s not just the sex. It’s certain kisses and touches and looks – especially the looks – that make her believe there’s something lying underneath the surface. An iceberg so gigantic it could sink the Titanic. Whenever she catches his clandestine gazes from her periphery, there’s this inexplicable feeling that creeps through her veins.
Her peace is disturbed when excessive knocking and an uninterrupted ringing of the doorbell draw her attention to the front door. A part of her expects to find her best friend behind it. Only Jo could be this ruthless and obnoxious.
Y/N hurries to the door as fast as she can, which isn’t fast at all, considering she’s on crutches. Everything is just awkward and slow these days, but she’s been practicing moving around in hopes of joining the show again for the final episode. Billie and Donna have been helping her, too.
But as Y/N opens the door, she’s not greeted by the familiar blonde but by a brunette stranger instead. The only similarity the woman shares with Jo is that she’s incredibly hot and angry, too.
“Can I help you?” Y/N asks with a look of bewilderment, although she shouldn’t be surprised to find a mad woman on Dean’s doorstep.
“I’m Lisa Braeden. I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, somewhat impatiently.
Oh.
“Uh…”
Y/N stumps for a moment, eyeing the woman in front of her closely. So, this is Claire’s mother. Dean’s ex. She tries not to feel insecure around her, but it’s hard, considering the woman is a bombshell with perfect curves and flawless features. And if she looks like that now, Y/N wonders what she must’ve looked like seventeen years ago.
The actress suddenly feels very exposed in only the director’s flannel. Truthfully, she looks like she just crawled out of a gutter. Maybe it’s the fact she has just woken up and is sporting major bed-head, but Lisa probably thinks Dean took in a homeless person. The cast and crutches don’t help, either. And then, Y/N wonders why a part of her cares at all what the brunette thinks and reminds herself it’s not a competition.
“Dean? Dean!”
Her voice carries a certain amount of panic that’s probably uncalled for. Yet, it helps. The shower turns off, and not a minute later, Dean stands next to her with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad chest still glistening with droplets of water.
He does know how to make an entrance.
Dean’s brow is deeply creased when he takes in the woman at the door, lacking a sense of recognition, however. “What the fuck is all that noise?”
“I’m the fucking noise,” Lisa replies dryly. “I’m here for my kid.”
“Oh…” Dean stumps as well. Then, he swallows thickly and gives her a nervous smile. “Hi, uhm, I’m Dean Winchester.”
“I know who you fucking are, you moron,” Lisa huffs, shaking her head. “You got me pregnant. Where’s Claire?” When neither Dean nor Y/N answer, Lisa rolls her eyes and waltzes past the two inside the house. “Claire!”
“Sure, come on in,” Dean mutters under his breath and shares a wide-eyed look with Y/N, hoping for some guidance.
The actress eyes him up and down, pensively licking her lips. “Maybe you should get dressed.”
With some pants and a shirt on, Dean and Y/N have retreated to the kitchen and sip quietly on their cups of coffee while Lisa and Claire scream at each other. It’s a classic mother and teenage daughter battle. Claire fights for freedom, while Lisa fights for control.
“I had sex with that woman seventeen years ago. Now she’s in my house, yelling at my kid,” the director voices his thoughts out loud, a hint of trepidation shimmering in his green eyes.
“Yup, life has a way of catching up with you. Kinda learned that this year,” Y/N notes with pursed lips and sends him a smile. “But hey, they’re your family now. Kinda nice, right?”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Dean huffs with a bitter look and watches Y/N place her mug in the sink.
“I should probably go. Leave you guys to figure this out,” Y/N announces, one hop on a healthy foot away from walking out the door. “I’ll call a cab.”
“No, don’t! You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Dean pleads, the sheer panic and desperation visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. His gaze bores into her. “C’mon, I need you. This is one of those, you know, friendship moments. Like abortions and getting over coke addictions.”
Y/N lets out a small sigh. How could she leave him after everything he’s done for her? She basically has no choice but to stay and help him through this. “What d’you want me to do? Mediate?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean shrugs helplessly. “I just know I’m gonna say all the wrong shit at the wrong time. Please. I don’t wanna lose my kid. Help me.”
As she catches his gaze, there’s that inexplicable feeling creeping through her veins again. This time, it even tugs on her heart.
“Okay, uhm, alright. I’ll stay,” she promises him, offering him a small smile of comfort.
Unbeknownst to her, though, Dean comes close to saying the three ominous words once more. It’s getting harder every day to keep them inside. How long does he have until he bursts? He feels like a ticking time bomb.
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“Maybe we should all sit down and talk?” Y/N suggests as soon as Claire has stormed into her room and slammed the door in upset.
“About what?” Lisa barks, half-annoyed as she rests her hands on her squared-off hips. “She’s been lying to me for months.”
“Okay, in my defense, she told me you were crazy,” Dean explains with an innocent shrug.
“I don’t care if she told you I beat her and locked her into the basement. If a kid has run away from home, you call their mother,” Lisa retorts furiously.
Dean purses his lips in defeat for a moment, especially when Y/N seems to agree. She’s kind of his moral compass, but he’s not ready to accept his loss yet. “Well, you didn’t call me to tell me you were having a kid. My kid,” he argues and knows it’ll probably backfire. He can tell by Y/N’s frown.
“Oh, excuse me for not calling the guy who didn’t stay for breakfast,” Lisa counters with an eye roll.
Dean’s brow furrows, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s what happened.” Granted, he’s been high for two decades now.
“I asked if you wanted pancakes. You said, ‘No, thanks, but that was fun.’ And then you got into your car and bolted, never to be seen again,” Lisa recalls, frowning.
“Uhm, that sounds like it was a long time ago,” Y/N interjects in his defense, chuckling nervously. “He’s a different and more mature person now.”
Dean’s heart swells to twice its size. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. Although, he can tell she only said it to win Lisa over. She’s a good actress, making even him believe her words. But she’s helping him, so it’s the thought that counts.
“Thanks for the input. Who are you again? Are you his fucking maid?” Lisa arches a brow at her, eyeing her up and down.
“No, she’s not my maid,” Dean replies fiercely but then doesn’t know what else to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Friend? Nothing sounds right. “She’s my, uhm, she’s my actress. She’s my… You know, she’s… She’s Y/N.”
At that, Y/N’s brow draws together in the middle with a tilt of her head. Dean surmises that answer probably sounded even weirder.
“Yeah, I can see you’ve changed so much.” Lisa scoffs sarcastically and folds her arms over her chest, her patience running low.
Y/N subtly clears her throat, deciding to step in. God knows the director needs all the help he can get. “Okay, uhm, it doesn’t really matter who I am,” she says and shares a look with Dean, who anxiously chews his bottom lip raw. “What matters is that Dean has really connected with Claire over the last few months. He’s enrolled her in high school, she has joined AV club, she’s got a really nice and sweet boyfriend.” Dean grimaces at that last part, but Y/N skillfully ignores it and continues, “They’re going to Winter Formal tonight.”
“Yeah, I’m chaperoning,” Dean announces proudly. “This dance is very meaningful to her.”
Lisa snorts a laugh, clearly amused. “My kid does not go to dances.”
“Yes, I do!” Claire suddenly stands in the middle of the living room with the brightest smile. It’s freaky, really. She gleefully holds up the two dresses Y/N brought over last night, feigning her excitement. “Which one should I wear?”
Lisa and Dean disagree on the dress choice, but when Y/N sides with Lisa, Claire takes the hint and quickly disappears back into her room.
“It’s just one night, and it will give you two some time to catch up. Figure this out,” Y/N advocates suggestively.
“Yeah, what she said,” Dean agrees and clears his dry throat, wishing he had a bottle of booze in his hand to calm his nerves. Man, in stressful situations like these, he does miss coke sometimes. But fucking Y/N has been a great substitute, so maybe he’ll just do that as soon as that crazy woman leaves his house again. “Look, I get that you’re angry. But I’m really trying here, okay? She’s doing great at school, I gave her a curfew… I wanna make up for lost time,” he explains sincerely. Y/N sends him a proud smile.
“Fine, one night, but tomorrow we’re leaving,” Lisa relents with a sigh. “I’m not gonna indulge this fucking father-daughter fantasy,” she huffs and then finally storms out of the house.
Y/N exhales a long sigh of relief. “Well, that went better than expected.”
“You think?” Dean checks insecurely. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Y/N hadn’t been here to support him. “You’re coming tonight, right?”
Surprised by the request, Y/N’s brow meets her hairline. “You want me to go to your daughter’s Winter Formal with you?”
“Yes, obviously,” Dean states matter-of-factly and blinks at her. “You can’t leave me alone with that woman.”
Y/N heaves another sigh as she looks at him. “Okay, fine,” she surrenders.
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Sitting on the bleachers of a fully decorated gym, Y/N realizes she has kind of missed high school. At least, everything used to be much simpler back then. Your crush would ask you to go steady, you’d say yes or no, and then you’d be broken up shortly after prom.
Adulthood is complicated. People are complicated. And love is goddamn unfathomably complicated.
“It’s so weird seeing her with her first high school boyfriend,” Lisa notes with a small sigh next to her. “I still remember her drawing with crayons. Now, she’s running miles away, lying, and making out with a boy.”
“Yeah, teenage romance is a lot more intense,” Y/N says, chuckling softly.
“She won’t wear a dress to my wedding. Refused to. Screamed bloody murder,” Lisa says thoughtfully. “But after spending a few months with her estranged father, she suddenly puts one on.”
“People are complicated,” Y/N reiterates her earlier sentiment.
Claire is complicated. Dean is complicated. And Y/N? She might be the most complicated of all.
“My fiancé is not,” Lisa says, a delicate smile playing across her lips. It’s enough to show her happiness. “I always used to date these guys that would run so hot and then completely cold the next minute. I never knew where I stood. It was exhausting.”
“Yeah, I get it…”
Y/N’s eyes drift to Dean as he chats with one of the other dads by the buffet. She doesn’t know what the director wants from her. She doesn’t know what their relationship even is. One minute, it feels epic, like a love so legendary it should only exist on the silver screen. And the next minute, it feels trivial, like it should’ve never existed at all.
But Dean’s not the problem. Deep down, she knows what that creeping feeling in the pits of her stomach is. And she knows she’s not ready for it. Truth is, Y/N has no idea what she wants and feels lost. Because if she admits one thing, it’d mean the end of another. If she stays in LA for a guy, what would that mean for her career? She doesn’t want to end up like Jo. She’s finally about to have it all, only to realize both at the same time are a mere dream.
And worst of all, even if she did know what she wanted, she’s doesn’t know if she deserves it.
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“So, what d’you do, son?” an older man next to Dean asks. He’s already balding and gray, as is the scruffy beard he’s sporting. His suit jacket with a name tag that reads “Chaperone” looks a little worn and sleazy, too. The director figured he’d be one of the oldest dads here, so this guy comes as a pleasant surprise.
“I’m a director of a women’s wrestling show,” Dean replies and takes a sip from the fruit punch. None of the kids have spiked it yet, which is quite the disappointment. What’s happening to today’s youth, huh? “And you?”
“Oh, nice.” The man nods with a smile and pulls out a business card from his suit jacket, handing it to Dean. “Bobby Singer. I own a small chain of strip clubs, although my wife Ellen would probably like me to tell you I’m a small business owner.”
“Got it.” Dean chuckles and glances at the card in his hands. “Bobby’s Body Shop. Oh, hey, I know this one! ‘Where the girls are hotter than the asphalt,’” he quotes the club’s tagline proudly, grinning. “I’m there all the time! Actually got one of your girls in my show.”
Bobby chuckles. “Well, next time you’re there, ask for me. I’ll get you a discount.”
“Thanks.” Dean smirks. And Cas claims you can only network on the fucking golf course. “Oh, hey, you should catch one of our shows. It’s our last one this week. It’s pretty badass. We’re over at the old gym in Watts.”
“Alright, I’ll see you there,” Bobby says with a smile.
Dean’s eyes then drift to Y/N on the bleachers. Last time he checked on her, she was still chatting with Lisa, but the brunette has since left. And as he glances at her now, Y/N has found herself encircled by a group of horny teenage boys, causing his brows to draw together and meet in the middle. They’re like fucking vultures.
“Shoo!” Dean barks sternly at the young men as he approaches the group and watches them scurry away with their tails tugged between their scrawny legs.
With an amused smile, Y/N arches an eyebrow at him. “Glad you’ve decided to join me. It was getting crowded. I’ve turned down about twenty offers to dance.”
“Look at you, you little heartbreaking cougar,” Dean retorts with a teasing smile. “You’re gonna turn me down, too?”
“I have a broken ankle. Did you forget that part? I can’t dance,” Y/N replies.
“Oh, c’mon, that never stopped you before. ‘Sides, I’ve got two working legs and can’t dance, either. So, what d’you say, huh?” Dean holds out his hands for her to grasp.
“Fine,” Y/N relents and grabs his hands, hopping to her feet. “Let’s do some awkward swaying.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dean laughs and rests his palms on her hips, helping her stand as she locks her arms around his neck.
“Is that what you had in mind?” Y/N asks teasingly as she looks up and meets his gaze.
“Kinda.” Dean dips his head and catches her lips, deepening the kiss with his tongue slipping inside her mouth.
“Dean,” she scolds him softly with blushed cheeks and a giggle that surely won’t keep him from doing shit. “There’s people here. Teenagers.”
“So? It’s nothing they wouldn’t do,” Dean remarks mischievously. “And no one’s here that we know. Claire’s caught us like a million times already, and Lisa doesn’t care. C’mon, we never get to do those things in public,” he appeals with a wiggle of his brows.
“Alright,” Y/N surrenders with a small sigh and a smile, tiptoeing up on one foot to press her soft lips back on his. She feels him breath into the kiss, cherishing every second of it. His hands wander from her hips to cup her cheeks, causing her to almost topple over as he forgets that he’s been steadying her. “Whoa, Dean!”
Her giggle interrupts the kiss as she tightens her grip around his neck before he moves his hands back to their place on her hips, offering her support again. She leans her head against his chest, and he rests his chin on her crown.
“Sorry, got carried away there for a moment,” he apologizes with a snicker, pecking the top of her head gently.
“Yeah, that happens with you sometimes,” she teases and buries her head deeper into his shirt. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you on something again?”
Dean wants to say it’s love, but that sounds too fucking cheesy.
“Nope, still clean,” he replies instead and doesn’t take offense in her question. “Just nerves, I guess. There’s something I wanna tell you,” he says and licks his lips, swallowing thickly.
Y/N looks up and finds his green eyes, her brow knitting in curiosity. But there’s a perceptive shimmer in her orbs, and Dean knows she can already anticipate what’s coming next. Judging by her shift in weight, he can tell she doesn’t want him to say it out loud.
“Shit, uhm…” She squeezes her eyes shut and fumbles for an excuse. Dean gives her a plethora of time to find a believable one. “I have to go. I promised the girls we’d work out a plot for the finale together tonight, celebrate our last week.”
Dean’s lips quiver but manage to find a smile. “You sure?”
Reluctantly, Y/N still nods and lets out a tense breath. “Yeah.”
It feels like dancing around a big, pink elephant between them. Both of them pretend it’s invisible, although it’s painfully not. It’s even roaring or hooting or whatever the fuck elephants do.
“Alright, I’ll drive you to the motel,” Dean capitulates with a resigned nod.
“No, uh, stay,” she tells him and clumsily hops back to the bleachers to grab her crutches. “I’ll get a cab. You should spend your night with Claire. Figure things out with Lisa.”
“Okay,” Dean caves once more but then grabs hold of her, pulling her to his lips. The kiss is fervent and heated and desperate. So fucking desperate. “One for the road,” he says with a painful smile as he draws back. He doesn’t want to admit that it might be the last one they have shared.
Y/N’s look tells him she feels the finality, too. It’s the epilogue of the best book he’s ever read. The end credits of his favorite movie. The final episode of a show he loved.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly with a hesitant lip bite and a harrowing swallow.
“Don’t be. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean says and sends her one last weak smile before he watches her walk away with an aching heart.
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24. Don't Dream It's Over – May 4
Honestly, even my cold, cold heart weeped at the end there. Poor Dean 😢💔 But as you can guess from next week's title, we're not done yet 😉
TAGS:
Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey
@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies
@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28
@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444
@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus
Everything Dean: @SnowAyumi
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ranaissingle · 1 year
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Masterlist
Summary: The reader and Austin spend a day at home when the Oscar nominations come out and the reader comforts an insecure Austin the day before. Rating: T (it is straight fluff and I eat that shit up) Pairings: Austin x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1.8k A/N: I haven't posted in like a week bc I couldn't find inspiration but I need more soft Austin content to think about so this is what you guys get instead of Coffee or Tea Pt. 5 lol (Which is the last part by the way and I am currently suffering from writer's block so I'm doing this to distract myself. ) Reader has almost no body descriptors like race, body parts, weight, etc.
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Austin had been counting the days until the Oscar nominations and had run himself ragged in the process. He googled when they would be released at least 4 times a day and consulted his manager about the likelihood of his nomination in the time between. As much as Austin tried to convince himself he didn't care, he hadn't fooled anyone; not even himself.
You were content to watch him at first and assumed it was a natural part of being an actor; you weren't sure what you could do to ease his stress, to begin with. But after the dreaded day drew nearer, Austin's anxiety had shot through the roof and multiplied tenfold. You couldn't bare to watch him wallow in his own misery or stress himself out any longer. So the afternoon before the Oscar nominations were to come out and Austin's anxiety was at an all-time high, you would make your move.
You had planned a delicious at-home dinner followed by a movie and a relaxing day in bed. You had prepared a delicious bolognese sauce with mini bowtie pasta (Austin's favorite) accompanied by a tasty fruit cake for dessert.
You had really outdone yourself.
Austin was due to come back from the day's interview at 6:45 which was perfect for dinner at 7.
You had just finished lighting the dinner candles and switching off the lights when Austin tumbled into the door looking worn out and stressed to high heaven.
You walked up to the door to take his coat and kiss his cheek.
"Welcome home love, how was work?" This had become a routine; Austin would tumble in, you would take his coat, kiss his cheek, and then ask how his day was. That routine was one of Austin's few consistencies in his hectic life and he looked forward to your soft smile and breathy voice during his entire commute home.
"It was alright darlin' how was yours?", he placed his hand on your waist and drew you closer.Just as Austin finished his question to you, it seemed he noticed the lack of fluorescent lighting in the apartment.
"What's up with all the lights not being o-" He set his eyes on the dinner table set with the best dishware and china, the long thin candles lit in the middle, and the unopened bottle of red wine occupying the end of the table.
"You've been so stressed lately and it's taking a toll on your health," you reached up to place your hand on his cheek and swiped your thumb over the discolored skin under his eyes.
"I'm worried about you is all, so I made us dinner and I have a movie qued for us to watch after." Austin gradually wrapped his arms tighter and tighter as you spoke. Eventually, his head landed in your neck and you felt his breaths tickling your clavicle.
"Thank ya darlin' I love ya so much, ya know that?" His voice was ragged. Austin loved being taken care of, but he wouldn't tell anyone that and you loved taking care of him. It was a win-win situation.
You pulled your face away from him to grasp his hands in yours and lead him to the table.
"Darlin this smells delicious, did ya make pasta?"
"Just how you like it, my love." Austin's smile was breathtaking and he looked more alive in that moment than he had in the 2 weeks before.
Austin pulled out your chair before walking around to the table to pull out his own. He tried the pasta and all but moaned in approval.
"Darlin' this is amazing! I swear you cook this better each time." You were glad the hours spent over the stove reducing the sauce with spices and herbs had the desired effect.
"I'm glad you like it Austin! I called up my mom to get some better tips for making a meat sauce. I'm glad the work paid off." You giggled as Austin continued to shovel spoon after spoon of the delicious pasta into his mouth.
Dinner went by pleasantly with both of you conversing about whatever came to mind. Both your legs were intertwined under the table and Austin fidgeted with your hand where it rested on the table.
You both made it through the main course accompanied by the wine and when it came time for dessert, Austin decided he wanted to spoon-feed you the fruit cake as a 'thank you' for all the hard work you had put in to prepare a delicious meal for him.
Austin had been drained and tired for what felt like an eternity but it seems an afternoon with you and a home-cooked meal was all he needed to recover.
Austin had asked you three times to let him help you with the dishes but you had profusely refused and all but shoved him into your bedroom as you told him to relax and kissed his forehead.
"I can take care of the dishes myself and I'll just be putting them in the dishwasher anyway." You waved your hand to emphasize how light the work would be.
Austin frowned but eventually let out an "Alright darling whatever you say." accompanied by a heavy sigh and a 'thank you' kiss on your temple.
You did the dishes in record time because you wanted to spend some time with Austin before his eventual crash. He wasn't going to last through the whole movie as was evident by his eye bags and already drooping eyelids.
You crossed the living room and opened the door to your shared bedroom. Austin had changed into his pajamas and was tucked under the covers while he read one of his mystery novels.
"Hey, baby," you spoke as you entered the room and Austin perked up, "I was thinking, we can still watch the movie if you want but you're looking a little tired and I don't want to keep you up, especially when you need all the rest you can get. So, what do you choose?"
"Could we just cuddle and go to sleep? I am feelin' pretty tired." He tilted his head in the most endearing way as he asked and you were happy to satisfy his request.
You crawled into the bed and opened the blanket and your arms to invite Austin into a hug. His smile was breathtaking as he practically threw his book onto the nightstand and shimmied under the sheets to get closer to you.
His head found purchase in your neck yet again and his arms wrapped around you to hold your hips in his embrace. You settled one hand on his back to rub circled on his spine while the other raked its way through his soft locks. You knelt your head down to whisper how proud you were of him, how much you loved him, and how he had nothing to worry about because he was guaranteed an oscar nomination tomorrow. He kissed your necks over and over as you spoke and only buried himself further into your form when you finished speaking.
The dim street lights reflecting into the room and the lavender diffuser you had on at all times calmed Austin. He eventually relaxed in your embrace and spoke a mumbled "I love you" before finally nodding off.
"I love you more."
≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪
The sunlight streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and illuminated the room with a soft and warm light. The both of you were still fast asleep in the position you had slept in the night before; although Austin seemed to be nestled impossibly closer to you. He had fallen asleep in record time and had not woken up in a cold sweat once during the entire night. His dreams were filled with mundane days spent at home and your smile took center stage in his every thought.
Alas, although you and Austin had both forgotten what day today was, his manager had not been so lucky. The Oscar nominations had been released in the early morning and you both had slept ever soundly through it. Taylor, Austin's manager, had been awake at the crack of dawn refreshing her inbox and the official oscar website. As soon as the nominations dropped, she picked up her cell to call Austin. It took her 4 attempts before your sleep-ridden voice made its way into her receiver.
You picked the phone up to your ear and mumbled a broken
"Hello?"
" OH MY GOD THANK GOODNESS SOMEONE ANSWERED. AUSTIN GOT THE NOMINATION!" Her voice blared into your ear making you wince and pull the phone away from your face.
"What??? Are you serious Taylor??!!" You tried to keep your voice soft so as to not wake Austin before you confirmed the news.
"YES, THE NOMINATIONS WERE RELEASED A FEW MINUTES AGO!"
"Okay, I'll tell Austin! He is still asleep so I'll have to wake him up." Said man was still tucked into your neck but had begun to stir.
"Pleeeeeease do, he has been waiting for this nomination for so long and you and I both know he deserves it."
"I know Taylor, thank you for calling so many times it would have been a shame if we missed this."
After ending the phone call, you put the phone down and wrapped your arms back around Austin while leaning your mouth into his ear and running your hand down his back.
"Austin baby, you have to wake up love. We can't sleep in any longer." Austin stirred but did not fully wake up. You stroked his back again before using your words to coax him up into the world of the awake.
Austin's facelifted slowly out of your neck to turn to where the light was streaming into the room and he placed his head over your heart while he slowly woke up.
"Austin, Taylor just called." You felt him tense his arms around you as he braced himself for the bad news. You just wrapped your arms tighter around him and whispered, so softly he barely heard you at all
"You did it, my love, you got nominated for best actor by the Oscars. Out of so many actors, they chose you! I'm so proud of you Austin, you worked so hard and you did it, baby. You did it, my love."
Austin's choked sobs were palpable in the room.
"I did it? A-are you serious? I actually got nominated?" He had picked his head up from your chest and sat up to look at you.
Taking his face in between both your hands you gazed into his eyes.
"Yes, you did Austin. Believe it and live it because you deserve it. All your hard work has paid off and I will always be right here for you, for as long as you'll have me."
Austin's teary eyes and blissful smile made your heart flutter in a way you never knew was possible.
Never in your life had you loved someone like you loved Austin.
⚛》》»»»◈«««《《⚛⚛》》»»»◈«««《《⚛⚛》》»»»◈««
This got very sappy very fast but I can't say that I'm mad at it. I also think that Austin probably needs a lot of assurance right now just like the rest of us. I hope you guys enjoyed it!
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fiepige · 7 months
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Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:
Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release
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You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')
#This took so long to make lol#cause I had to edit every scene with Hobie from both versions so I could watch them right after one another to compare them#I did this with ALL the scenes he's in also the ones where he's on screen as spider-punk#but they only changed his filters in these scenes so it was a waste of time :')#sidenote: no it wasn't it's never a waste of time to look at hobie I just couldn't use it for my GIFset lol#I also made a bouns one but I'm not allowed to post more than 30 GIFs in one post apparently so I guess I just won't add it then...#but Hobie was basically filterless during all these scenes in the theatrical version#I like that they gave him more different filters in the digital version#the only change I don't like is in the first GIFs#cause like that one post pointed out it looks like they removed his lipstick for some reason#also really wish I had a better video editor so we could get a closer look at Hobie but I did my best with what I had#also slowed some of them down to get a better look at them#been having this idea for a while and now I finally finished it!#which means I can go back to working on my fics now#hopefully lol#also lemme know if there are some other scens you guys want me to make comparisons of#cause I have both versions#the theatrical release isn't the highest quality though so if you know where I can get my hands on a better version lemme know ;)#hobie brown#spider punk#miles morales#spider man#peter b parker#jess drew#miguel o'hara#spider man across the spider verse#across the spider verse#across the spiderverse#atsv#theatrical version
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sluckythewizard · 21 days
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YOU JUST HƎARD IT FROM [HIS MOUTH] FOR SURƎ!!!
#cw gore#cw blood#jrwi fanart#jrwi suckening spoilers#jrwi suckening#BEEN VEHEMENTLY SCRIBBLING THIS THING ALL DAY#IM SO FUCKING IN LVOE W THE NEW EPISODE#VIV N VEX ARE LITERALLY EVERYTHING I COULDVE EVER WANTED. I LOVE BLOOD AND MEAT AND BLOOD AND MEAT#THE SCRIBBLE IS KINDA ROUGH SO DONT LOOK AT IT TOO HARD BUT EHEHEHEEEE THE FACE THAT I CREATED UNNERVES ME#AND IM VERY HAPPY ABOUT THAT. I LOVE CREATING SOMETHING AND HAVING IT EVEN SLIGHTLY PHASE ME#I LOVED ALL THE TOOTH RIPPING NOISES IN THIS EPISODE. AHVE U EVER HAD A TOOTH REMOVED?#SHE USED A BLUNT METAL TOOL TO PUNCH IT OUT. IT REMINDED ME OF THE SPLINTERING OF A TREE. THE WAY IT TORE.#SUCH A SPECIFIC SORT OF CRUNCHING AND SPLINTERING AS A MOLAR WAS RRRRIPPPEEDD FROM THE SOCKET. OHH I LOVE IT.#GOING IN FOR A ROOT CANAL NEXT WEEK AND IM VERY EXCITED. ALL THE DENTISTS LOVE ME N ARE SO NICE TO ME#WHAT A GREAT EPISODE. I HOPE THE URGE TO DRAW MORE STRIKES ME LIKE THIS AGAIN. WEEEE!!#I WANNA ANIMATE EMIZEL GETTIN HIS EYE RRIPPED OUT. BUT. IM ALREADY COOKING 3 OTHER VIV N VEX ANIMATIONS#THERES NO WAY THEY WILL ALL BE FINISHED HELP!! HELP MEE!!!! I HAVE TO MANY IDEAS AND NOT ENOUGH HANDS. DO U GUYS REMEMBER HTF?#OR HAPPY TREE FRIENDS. THE CUTE ANIMAL SHOW W ALL THE BLOOD AND GORE AND TERRIBLE TERRIBLE THINGS HAPPENING TO THE CUTE ANIMALS#in elementary school i would show the 'eyes cold lemonade' to other kids and tell em thats how they make pink lemonade.#hope that helps you undertsand. i wish i could make a lil cartoon w just viv n vex doing what they do best#LOST MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT. IM GOING BACK TO MY LAB. DONT EXPECT TO HEAR FROM ME IN A MILLION YEARS
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lockwood/george/lucy is just ten/jack/martha in another skin. try to convince me otherwise
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redbootsindoriath · 4 months
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Merry Christmas!
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And an early happy new year, since I'll be traveling at that time and won't be able to post anything. Sorry for the long disappearance. I wish I had some exciting excuse like being abducted by the fae or becoming a spy, but really I've just been going through a lot and haven't been drawing much. Here are a couple of fantasy style Klausen (or maybe the more widely recognized Krampi) by way of apology. I hope you all have been good this year.
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aulerean · 3 months
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pensive
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mad-c1oud · 1 month
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it’s 2am and my brain is whirling- take my poll boy
Starcicle Timeloop Au
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leieryx · 1 month
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Im never gonna be normal about this i fucking knew it
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mspaint-flower · 7 months
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just saw a twitter video of the new zer0h album with one of the NEW SONGS PLAYING!!!!!!!!!!!! i am actually so fucking sad if zer0h won't release the songs somewhere on the internet
guys if anyone who owns the physical album would upload the songs for me that would be amazing. i'm so normal
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