#the more i look at it the more i hate it so i’m throwing it here

[slytherinboysappreciation]

JEGRNEISUB smoker mattheo riddle x non smoker gn/male reader who start dating but since reader doesn't smoke they try to force mattheo to stop smoking by not kissing him on the lips

Like imagine him wanting to kiss you on the lips since before y'all started dating and now that he's dating you he can't cs he smokes and you hated kissing your smoker ex before you met him AND whenever you dobkiss him it's always on the corner of his lips and he tries to turn his head but you stop all contact and he js whines and begs but you stand your ground until he goes cold turkey

Cold turkey mattheo is always jittery and annoyed to the point his friends are complaining about him to you but mattheo finaly gets his kisses from you and he just thinks "damn this was worth it"

Now everytime he gets a nicotine craving he je kisses you HELPEHELPEHELP

(You should totally write this *winks*)

(No pressure though)

Smoker - M. R. x gn!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request!! I hope this is what you were wanting! I’m sorry about the ending; I’ve been on a streak of not knowing how to end fics well, apparently.

Fic is entirely unedited with no use of Y/N. Please let me know if I missed tagging something!!! Gif found on Pinterest here

CW: Lots of mentions of smoking and cigarettes; one mention of getting high; one mention of future death due to smoking; mentions of reader’s ex; mentions of kissing; kissing; angst, I guess??; pet names; Mattheo’s puppy eyes; begging; Theo gets rather frustrated in this; annoyed words towards reader; cursing; mentions of complaining; lots of kissing at the end; Mattheo being soft

1493 words

You’ve been dating Mattheo for almost a week now, and you’re getting tired of his smoking habits.

Since before you began dating, you’ve done everything you can to dissuade him from the habit. Everything aside from going and throwing away his stash yourself, that is.

But it’s no use. Theo chainsmokes like he’s planning his early death, and Enzo gets high every other day. Neither of them are much help when it comes to getting Mattheo to quit.

It’s not that you hate the smoking itself; it’s that you hate the smell. The lingering stench of acrid smoke that follows Mattheo no matter how many times he brushes his teeth or changes his clothes.

It lingers in his hair. On his skin.

It disgusts you. Your ex had been a smoker and the stench of cigarettes had followed him everywhere. Now the smell reminds you of him and his horrid habits.

You don’t want Mattheo to be connected to such a person, but he won’t listen to you when you beg him to quit.

So you resort to drastic measures.

It starts after class. Mattheo and Theo head off to go smoke, leaving you to hatch your plans.

And oh what a good plan you hatch.

It’s simple, really. But you’re pretty sure it’ll be effective. After all, there’s nothing Mattheo loves more than kissing you.

He returns with just enough time to walk you to your next class. You chat idly as you walk, going on about the new music album Pansy had shared with you. Mattheo nods along, smiling as he listens to you talk.

When you reach your class, Mattheo leans in for a kiss like he normally does, but you turn your head. His kiss lands on your cheek, rather than your lips.

He pulls back, startled and confused. “Babe?”

“Hmm?” You go to head into class, but he grabs your arm.

“What’s wrong?” He looks so concerned, his puppy eyes already starting to show.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You lean up and kiss his cheek. Mattheo tries to turn his head to catch your lips but you pull back.

“See you after class, Matty.”

“But…” He trails after you. “Did I do something?”

Your heart aches. Why does he have to look so pitiful when he’s sad?

“Matty…”

“Mr Riddle.” It’s your professor, looking vaguely annoyed. “Last time I checked you weren’t in this class.”

Mattheo opens his mouth to reply, but you cut him off by kissing his cheek again. “I’ll talk with you after class. I promise.”

He wilts a bit, still giving you his sad puppy eyes. But, slowly, he turns and leaves the classroom.

You take your seat, already feeling miserable. This plan is going to be harder than you thought.

Mattheo ambushes you after class is over. He’s there at the door, grabbing your arm and hauling you along after him. A small handpicked bouquet of flowers is stuffed into your hands.

“Matty, what the—“

He pulls you into an empty classroom and turns to face you, giving you the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “What did I do, baby? Whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

Your heart aches. With a sigh, you set down the flower bouquet on a desk and reach out to cup his face in your hands. “You didn’t do anything, love.”

“Then why won’t you let me kiss you?” He leans in, as if to try right then.

You pull back a bit, covering his mouth with your hand. You take a deep breath and gather your courage. “I don’t like it when you smoke, Matty.”

His brow furrows, but you continue. “I’ve tried everything I can, but you just won’t listen. So, until you stop smoking, I’m not going to kiss you anymore.”

Mattheo stares at you. He pulls your hand away from his mouth. “What?”

You fiddle with a curl of his hair, doing your best to hold his gaze. “No more kisses until you stop smoking.”

“But— But—“ He gapes at you in disbelief. “You— You can’t do this!”

You cross your arms, hoping you sound more stern than you feel. “I can and I am.”

“But, my kisses!”

“You can have your kisses after you stop smoking.”

Mattheo looks desperate. “Babe. Baby. My love. Come on. Please, it’s just— Smoking’s not even that big of a deal!”

“It is to me,” you say firmly. Inside, you’re dying; melting at his puppy eyes and distressed look.

“Baby, baby, please.” He takes your hands in his, giving you a pleading look. “Please don’t do this. I love your kisses.”

You can’t bear to hold his gaze any longer so you look away. “I know you do. That’s why I’m doing this. Maybe you’ll finally quit.”

“But—“

“I’ve made up my mind, Mattheo, and you’re not going to change it,” you say firmly. His expression crumples.

It hurts too much, so you gently pull your hands from his.

“I’ll see you later.” You give him a kiss on the corner of his lips. He doesn’t react, just gives you a morose stare.

You sigh and turn away. Surely, he’s just being dramatic? There’s no way this plan will work, right?

Wrong.

It takes Mattheo a week to give up his cigarettes. A week of whining and bemoaning and complaining.

A week of sad puppy eyes everytime you give him a kiss on his cheek or on the corner of his lips. A week of dodging his head turns and sneak kisses.

It’s just as painful for you as it is for him.

But, finally, he quits.

You make him wait three more days.

By the second day, Theo comes to you, scowling. “You’ve turned him into a damn right menace, you know that?”

You’re in the middle of doing your Charms homework, and have to pause to answer him. “What do you mean?”

“He’s as jittery and as pissed off as I’ve ever seen him. He nearly punched me in the face for suggesting he chill out.”

You blink. “He’s… Oh, from the withdrawal.”

“Yeah, from the withdrawal,” Theo says sarcastically. “You’ve turned him into a menace!”

You cross your arms. “Maybe if you hadn’t gotten him addicted, he wouldn’t be so cross right now.”

“It’s just a few bloody cigarettes a day!” Theo snaps back. “What’s it to you?”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t—“ Theo cuts himself off and sighs. “Bloody hell. You’re almost as bad as he is.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it in a good way,” he amends. “You’re stubborn as hell and fight for what you want. I can see why he likes you so much.”

You scowl, but let him go without comment.

More of Mattheo’s friends try complaining to you about him, but find you wholly unsympathetic. You’re firm in your stance about Mattheo quitting, much to their frustration.

But it’s all worth it when you finally let Mattheo have his kisses.

You’re expecting the bombardment of kisses from Mattheo. You’re not expecting the genuine relief in his expression when you kiss him on the lips again.

He sighs happily and gives you a dreamy look. “Merlin, I love your lips. I’d give up cigarettes a thousand times for your kisses.”

Your cheeks heat. “Matty…”

“Nuh-uh.” He leans in to kiss you again. And again. And again. “I get to have my special time with your lips. No denying my compliments allowed.”

You laugh softly and melt into his next kiss. “Alright. I suppose I can deal with that.”

Mattheo just grins into the kiss and pulls you closer.

For the next few days after your reconciliation, Mattheo is incessant about kissing you.

It’s immediately after class, during study sessions, after meals, and before bed. Anytime he can get his hands on you, his mouth finds yours.

It’s only when Pansy makes a comment about it that you finally think to ask Mattheo about it.

You’re studying in your room with him. Well, you’re studying; he’s pressing soft kisses to your cheek and jaw.

“Are you really that obsessed with kissing me?”

Mattheo leans in to kiss your cheek again. “Always, babe.”

You nudge him, smiling. “No, be serious. Not that I mind it, but you’ve been very clingy these past few days. Why?”

He hums and nuzzles along your jawline. “I get these cravings. Every time I used to smoke. But I quit, so now I kiss you instead.”

You pause, pulling away to properly look at him. Your gaze is soft, affectionate. “You… You keep from smoking again… by kissing me?”

He blushes a bit and leans in to give you a kiss on the lips. “Well, yeah…”

“That’s actually kinda cute.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he chuckles.

“So, does it work? Kissing me?”

“Yeah, but…” he smirks. “I should probably try again, you know, just to make sure.”

You make no protest when he kisses you deeply. He deserves it, after all.

And not just for his smooth comment.

#mattheo riddle #gn reader #divider by cafekitsune #mattheo riddle x gn reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #tw cigarettes #tw smoking #tw death mention

[macfrog]

backspin | bbf!frankie

surprise! we're taking a quick detour to fuck around with our brother's best friend again. what else is new.

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x fem!reader summary: you try to get even with frankie. it works. warnings: reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, enemies to lovers, mention of throwing up, alcohol consumption, cursing, oral, more dickhead frankie and more sassy reader word count: 6.3k

part one: rack 'em | main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💙

So, you fucked around with Frankie.

It’s no big deal, right? It was just a one-time thing. There was tension, you guys relieved it. Scratched an itch. Served a purpose. You still fucking hate the guy, and he still fucking hates you.

Nothing’s changed.

Right?

Mal sprays wine all over the kitchen table when you tell her. Gargles a, Sorry – fuck – sorry, through what little of the alcohol is left in her mouth.

You wipe your face clean in the crook of your elbow. It’s in your fucking eyelashes. You blink the room back into focus, and – “Jesus, Mal!”

Dark droplets teeter around the edge of the table, threatening to plunge straight down onto your mom’s chair cushions – thus damning you to her very own personal hell for all eternity. You can feel the flames licking at your feet already.

Your best friend rips a sheet of paper towel and drags it over the wood – white bleeding violet at the first swipe. “Why’d you tell me as I was taking a sip?”

“I didn’t think you’d fucking hose me down,” you hiss, taking the soaked crumple from her hands.

“You didn’t think I’d be a little surprised that you and Catfish Morales hooked up? Are you fucking ser–? Actually, you know what? I’m not that surprised.”

You glare at her from the sink, upper lip curled.

Mallory Bennett has been privy to your every thought since you were six years old. Hand in hand, arms swinging as you marched into first grade together.

Most days, you barely have to open your mouth – one flinching expression, one flash of eye contact, and she can parrot your own thoughts back to you.

Francisco Morales going down on you two nights ago is the first thing you’ve ever had to confess to her. It’s the first thing she never saw coming.

“Shut up,” you breathe, eventually thawing and sweeping over to your chair. The table sticks to your arms when you sit back down.

“There’s a lot to unpack there, alright? A lot of tension. I mean, you gotta fuckin’ feel it. You two hate each other’s guts! And you’re both single, and you’re only here for two weeks. And – he’s Santi’s best friend. It’s just…it’s the perfect storm.”

Another exasperated sigh passes your lips. You settle back, eyes closed, and lift your palm. “Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

“You wouldn’t’ve told me if you didn’t wanna talk about it. Was he good?”

“Mal.”

“Was he?”

“I was drunk. I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit.” Her face screws up; the gold hoops wobble from her ears. “Like hell you don’t remember. Tell me.”

Your eyes slip from her over to Ange. The old pup pushes herself to her feet with a huff, her joints stiff and bones frail. She moseys over to your side. You scratch the back of the dog’s neck, shrugging to Mal.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way to a free round of drinks, I’d remember enough to share.”

“Fuck you,” she snorts, voice rounded by her wine glass. “Maybe that just means you gotta do it again – sober.”

You scoff.

Angie looks up at you – watery eyes blinking, tail slowly fanning.

Mal’s already recounting the time Frankie snitched on the two of you for raiding your mom’s makeup bag. She waves her hands in the air, eyes bulging.

Do it again. The thought actually makes you want to laugh.

You and Frankie – you and Catfish, hooking up again. As if the first time wasn’t a total mishap, the biggest mistake in judgement you think you’ve ever made.

He drove you home, he made you come, he left.

One nil, right? You have one up on him. You got yours, and he probably went home and jerked off to the thought of it. Alone in his room, tongue licking at the corners of his mouth where he could still taste your release.

You won.

You won, against Frankie Morales.

“…and then fuckin’ – Pope tried to help us tidy it up, remember? He was scrubbing the hell outta the lipstick on the mirror. But that asshole – Frankie,” she seethes, “he went downstairs as soon as your mom came home. As soon as she…And he fucking ratted!”

She growls, balls her fists. Screws her eyes tight shut like the enraged eight-year-old she was back then. She still has the same little crease between her brows. “What the hell got into you that night? We hate him, junior!”

Ange slumps to the floor with a sigh.

“Me too, girl,” you mutter to her, twirling the base of your glass. You look back up at the crazed woman opposite. “I don’t know,” you insist. “I was drunk, we were on our own…It just happened, alright?”

Her shoulders roll in a shrug. She lifts her glass to clink the neck of the bottle against the rim, purple wine spilling in a swirl. “Maybe it’s the start of something.”

You scoff. “Mal. Come on.”

“I’m serious. Perfect storm.”

“Nope. No storm. Stop that.”

She jabs a tipsy finger in your direction. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you messed around with your arch fucking menesis– arch fucking…with – with Frankie, and you just – still feel nothing for him?”

“No,” you admit, “I feel plenty for him. I hate his fucking guts. I used to wish every birthday that he’d disappear. One time in church, when Father Joseph told everybody to bow their heads ‘n pray, I actually asked God to kill him for me.”

“Not Father Joseph!” Mal shrieks, grinning. “He was so fucking hot, by the way, for a dude with no hair. When the sunlight caught that cueball just right…that was a real fucking miracle. Goddamn.”

You bat her snicker away. “Me and Frankie used to brawl so bad that our moms had to separate us,” you continue. “I had to sit in the front seat if we drove anywhere – and that still didn’t stop him! He’d reach around the headrest and flick my fucking ear.”

“You gave as good as you got, though. I’m surprised he can even still get hard, the number of times your foot…” She swings her leg and kicks your thigh softly. “He was an ass, I know.”

“He was an ass then, he’s still an ass now. That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay,” Mal concedes. Her dark, glossy hair surfs around the lip of her wine glass when she leans in. “But you wouldn’t’ve told me unless it was still on your mind. ‘s all I’m saying.”

You throw yourself back with a quick, angry shake of your head. Your tongue flicks over your top lip.

“All I’m saying,” she repeats, holding her hands up.

But I won, you think – in a petulant little whine. Like you could shake your fists and stamp your feet at the same time. You got one up on him. He – he made you…

He made you come. He saw you. Felt you. Tasted you.

He knows what you sound like, whimpering his fucking name. Drunk on him, begging him not to stop. And now, the image of him fisting his cock over the memory of it feels less like a victory, and more like –

Another fucking loss.

You have no idea what he looks like, coming undone. No clue what his fragmented moans sound like as they tear from the bottom of his throat and rain down over you. You don’t know the weight of him in your hands, the wet slip of his tip as he leaks over your tongue.

Mal’s onto something new. Taken by a Facebook post from some girl you went to high school with. Biggest head I ever saw on a fucking baby, she mutters, wincing and then sprinkling a handful of salted peanuts on her tongue.

Frankie’s cocky smirk clouds over the sight of her at the opposite end of your kitchen table.

Francisco fucking Morales. The asshole wins again.

All at once, you hear his rotten little jeers in your ear – curbed painfully by his middle finger searing across your lobe. You feel his heavy palm on your skull, fingers scrunching roughly into your scalp.

A temper boils between your ears, heavy over your head. It feels juvenile, as if it’s armed with a Barbie in one fist and a juice box in the other. Sunken and wallowing in shame and rage, red-hot waves which wash over you as Mal cackles at some video on her phone.

You feel Frankie’s hands around your legs; the flicks of his hair tickling the inside of your thighs. The swarm of butterflies deep in your belly as you watched his figure swagger back across the street to his truck.

Loss after loss after loss. Each one wearing a satisfied smirk and a Standard Oil baseball cap.

Each one staining deeper than red wine in varnished oak.

You grit your teeth.

Frankie –

fucking –

Morales.

Santi floats the idea of a barbecue. Because of course he fucking does.

He says his place is too small, too many neighbors in earshot – and as long as Ms. Teller takes both hearing aids out, she won’t even know it’s happening.

“Just the guys ‘n us,” he chirps. “You, me, Will, Benny…Fran-kie…?”

You gag down the line. Body instinct whenever his name is mentioned, worsened by the latest developments in your relations. Ange glances up from her spot beneath the oak tree – her milky fur stark against the velvet green grass.

Santi chokes on a laugh. “Mal, too, if that helps with the Catfish thing.”

You lean the phone on your collarbone, sitting forward to apply a second coat of polish to your toes. The red gloss shines in the early morning light. “He is not welcome in my house.”

“First off: not your house. Second –”

“My house for the next eleven days.”

He says your name flatly. It sounds like a door being slammed. It shuts you up as though you’re nine again. “…Second: he won’t be in the house. He’ll be in the backyard.”

“You owe me,” you protest. “For ditching me the other night. I’m cashing in, Santiago. You want a cookout? No Frankie.”

Your brother sighs. “And how am I supposed to explain that to him, hermana?”

“Don’t,” you tell him. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Santi mutters something incoherent, though you know from the razor-sharp tone of voice that it’s no compliment. Still – he’s a man of his word.

Eventually he agrees: no Frankie at the barbecue.

The store is chilly, plucking goosebumps along your arms.

You round the aisles, scanning your list. You’ve been battling with a janky front wheel which has squealed and veered off-course at every fucking turn. It almost mowed over an elderly woman in the meat aisle.

You’ve cleared most of what Santi told you to get. Drinks, ice, buns, meat, corn on the cob. He wanted to use Mom’s dinner plates – but that, you countered, runs the risk of them being scraped, chipped, or worst of all, smashed.

That’s not a risk you’re willing to take. So you’ve piled in some paper plates and plastic cutlery, too – just to be on the safe side.

The cashier cuts a familiar figure at the checkout: her navy apron and full-cheek grin. She’s a staple sight from your childhood – a pair of dimples and sweet giggle trailing after you as you’d follow your mom’s skirt back out to the parking lot.

Her eyes widen and she clasps her hands when she notices you approaching. “Well, would you look who it is?” she sings.

“Hey, Pol,” you say, fanning yourself with your scrawled shopping list. “How you doing?”

The belt jolts your supplies closer to her bejeweled fingers.

“Same as always, honey. Rockin’ and rollin’. What brings you back to town?”

“Housesitting, dog-sitting…Santi-sitting. Mom and Dad are on a cruise.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding. “She told me last week. Caribbean, right?”

You nod, sucking a deep, unenthused breath in.

Pol hums, smiling to herself as she clicks the barcode for your hotdogs into her computer. She begins telling you what her granddaughter thinks of second grade – her two times table and the tadpoles they’re keeping in class.

Your eyes sweep around the store as she chats. Everything looks the way it always did, a time capsule from the nineties. Speckled floor and fluorescent lights; placards hanging overhead which sway each time the great glass doors pull open.

Baskets of fruit and veg lined alongside a lawn set on offer. Beside that, heaps of flowers and stacked planters. Beside those, a discarded shopping cart. And beside that –

Frankie fucking Morales.

Well – the silhouette of him. It’s pretty bright outside. But you’d recognize the outline of that dumb baseball cap anywhere. He’s talking to one of the assistants.

You hand Pol the cash Santiago gave you, and she trades it for a receipt. Dumping your bags back into your cart, you nod to her in thanks and stalk off towards the sliding doors.

Frankie tosses and twirls a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The assistant is telling him about some big college football game.

Your grip tightens on the janky-wheeled cart. You feel your skin begin to heat; prickling all over your arms, flushing down between your shoulder blades. Gathering somewhere south of there.

But you walk by him with purpose, choosing to ignore that warm feeling. Choosing to ignore…him.

He doesn’t turn. Thankfully.

The doors grant you exit and you give your cart one good shove across the threshold, back out into blinding daylight and sticky heat.

“Alright, man,” Frankie’s voice calls from behind. “Good talkin’ to ya.”

You nail your eye on the car. It’s, like, fifteen paces. You can make it fifteen steps without having to deal with him, right? If you take longer strides, it’s probably more like ten.

Ten steps, and then you’re in the sanctuary of your car. You don’t have to see, speak to, or deal with him.

So why are you slowing down?

You’re slowing down. You are. You’re borderline fucking loitering. Quietly hoping he’ll notice, catch up, maybe talk to –

You click the unlock button. The car beeps in response.

Five steps out. The front wheel is rattling. You’re doing your best to ignore it.

Four.

Three.

The wheel spins, flitting like a confused compass needle, and stops dead in the opposite direction. The cart hurtles out of your grip for less than a second before you recover it and haul it close to your car, cursing under your breath.

But a force – stronger, steadier – reaches around your body and takes hold of the thing. It guides it back to course. A force which, when it speaks, sounds a shit ton like –

“Woah, lil Santi,” Frankie mutters, and your chest leaps.

You freeze in your tracks. His weight is still around your back. He’s right fucking there, when you turn to look.

The brim of his cap bumps against your head. He steps back with a smirk on his face. He’s so fucking smug, you could slap him. “You tryna cause a goddamn accident with that thing?”

You pull a disingenuous smile. “Hey, Fish. Ever tried minding your own business?”

He feigns a wounded sound and clutches his chest. “Ouch. I’m just looking out for ya.”

“Feels more like you’re pestering me.” You pull on the door handle and slot the first bag along the backseat.

Frankie lifts his chin, peering in at the contents. The star-spangled plated, the dripping bags of ice. “Having a party?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You yank the bag from his sight, spinning to push it alongside the others. “Nope.”

He crosses his arms. “Sure looks like you’re having one.”

“Well, I’m not.” You slam the door and turn back to him, staring blankly.

“Forgot,” he sniffs, “you need friends to have a party.”

“Hilarious. Those shit jokes how you make all your friends?”

He nods, impressed. Pouts his lips like an annoying little fish. Suits his stupid fucking nickname. “Then why’d Benny call ‘n ask if I’ll be at Pope’s parents’ tonight?”

Shit. Fucking – Benny.

You sigh, eyes rolling closed. Your fingers massage your temples. “It’s not…it’s…”

“Cookout, right? Yeah. That stings, baby. No call, no text. You owe me, remember?”

“I owe you jack sh–”

“Two drinks,” Frankie clips, holding a finger up to shush you. “Three, if you count saving your car from one hell of a scratch.”

“Fuck off,” you breathe, and then give voice to, “It’s a small gathering of friends, and – now you, apparently.”

He sways forward, bumping the cart into your hip. “You need me to bring anything?”

You heave it straight back at him, hopefully hard enough to bruise. “Tranquilizer gun, if you’ve got one.”

“Can get something even stronger, if it’s a party you’re after.”

Your eyes thin. “Wouldn’t be my mom’s favorite for much longer if she found out you were doing coke in her backyard.”

Frankie smiles. That trademark Catfish grin. “I’ve done worse in her kitchen, baby.”

He’s so goddamn cocky. So full of it, it makes you want to scream. He studies you, eyes shadowed by his cap. His hair flicks out around his ears, dark curls doused in golden sunlight.

When your eyes trace the shape of his jaw, the wiry hair above his top lip – the faint flicker of a memory glows across your skin.

The weight of his hand on your stomach, pinning you to the bed. The bristling feeling ghosting the inside of your thighs. Your desperate wet, his tongue covering ground across your body like claiming territory.

Every shade of wrong. Ignoring every atom in your body – betraying every version of yourself for ten minutes of euphoria. He brought every numb nerve under your skin to attention, the second he knelt between your knees.

But he’s looking at you now, the same way he did the other night. It’s boyish and dangerous. A naked match just waiting to fall.

Maybe you’re waiting for an excuse to drop it.

Frankie gives his cap a quick tug, and makes off for his truck.

“See you at seven, Garcia.”

Daylight melts into dusk and with it, goes the sharp sting of summer. A pale blue rolls across the horizon, covering the yard in a hazy sort of chill. A relieving breeze, like satin over newly burned skin.

You’re still fucking sweating.

“Are you going to help me, or you just gonna lie there and text your girlfriend?” you call across the yard.

The dark figure spilling over the edge of the hammock grunts in response.

“Santi.”

Your brother groans, rolling free from the marigold fabric. He strides across the lawn, swinging an arm down to ruffle Ange’s ears. “Not a girlfriend,” he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “She’s…she’s more of a…”

You lift your hand. “Not something I need to know.”

He laughs and looks at the spread on the table. He lifts the corner of a tricolor napkin, straightens a plastic fork. The foil over the hamburger buns crinkles. “We did a good job. Looks great.”

“We?” You scoff, slapping his wrist away. “Yeah, me and the fucking dog, more like.”

“How much did it all come to? The food and shit?”

You shrug. “Like, forty dollars. I don’t know.”

“Gave you sixty. Where’s my change?”

You frown, hands on your hips. “If you don’t know how to budget properly, that’s not my problem.”

“And if you don’t know when to just lie and say you spent it all, that’s not mine. Twenty bucks, kid.” He holds his hand out, fingers beckoning.

The squeal of the gate interrupts, followed by a barrage of voices. Will and Benny and Mal and – as you lean back to watch them parade through the yard, you spot the figure of Frankie at their heels.

“Pope?” Will calls. “Pope, do me a favor. Remind me which one of us threw up at Busch Gardens that one time. Remember – right after we rode Gwazi?”

Santiago chuckles. “I remember Mallory wearing her raspberry slushie.”

Will guffaws in Mal’s face.

“I spit up!” she protests. “I spit up in a flowerbed. I was not wearing my slushie.”

“You were fluorescent pink the whole day,” Will says. He slings an arm around your shoulders. “You remember, lil Santi?”

You frown. Yeah, you fucking remember.

You remember being forced to sit between Frankie and Mal the entire way home. Santiago got dibs on the front seat by pretending he was carsick, and Mal had to sit by an open window so she didn’t stink your dad’s car out with all her raspberry-flavored puke.

You and Frankie bickered the whole journey. Both absolutely certain that the other was leaning too far over your seats. Your dad vowed he’d never let you both in his car at the same time, ever again.

“Mhm,” you grit, shooting daggers at your best friend.

She mouths a Sorry, and then places her salad bowl in the middle of the table. “Enough about throwing up. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

The boys spend twenty minutes arguing over how the barbecue works, before a single bit of food is cooked. You and Mal watch from the table, sneaking Ange slices of cheese and giggling when Will and Benny break into their fifth argument of the night.

Santi and Frankie take charge, shoving the brothers out of the way.

Pope passes over the meat, while Frankie mans the grill. He lifts his cap and wipes his brow with his bicep, giving his head a shake as he flips burgers and turns sausages.

And no, you’re not watching him. You’re focused on Mal and her story about some guy from work. Or – it might be a guy from her yoga class. The instructor, maybe? You’re not sure. Frankie just flapped the collar of his shirt and the hem lifted, exposing a sliver of his tummy.

You’re not watching him, though.

He runs his tongue along his top lip, focusing on the sizzle and spatter of the grill. His arm tenses, turning the tongs over and over. Wide shoulders stretch when he reaches for a plate.

He’s laughing quietly at whatever Santi’s babbling about at his side. His eyes are stuck on the barbecue in front of him. His fingers twirl around the tongs again. He never looked so lean and so broad and so fucking different, all at once.

Weird different. Good different?

You feel your cheeks flush with heat. This time, it’s not so much anger, as it is –

Oh, shit.

Mal gets up for a refill at the same time Santiago jogs inside to grab more meat. You and Frankie are alone on the patio – Will and Benny are kicking a ball for Ange to chase on the grass.

Morales turns, and you instantly stare down at your beer. You take a forceful swig as he approaches.

“Hotdog?” he asks, holding a plate down to you.

“Huh?”

He glares at you and scoffs. “Are you dumb? Hotdog.” He slips it onto the table in front of you.

You squint at the grill marks, and then squint up at Frankie. Puzzled and…offended, at the same time. You come back to your body with a jolt. “Why the hell are you–? Have you laced it with something?”

He shoots a glance over his shoulder, tongue between his teeth. “No, I haven’t fucking laced it with anything. I just figured you should have the first one, since you put all this on for us. But – Jesus, give me it.”

Your fingers lock around the paper plate when he tries to steal it back. For all that he’s a dick and might actually try to poison you – you’re fucking starving.

You figure you can stomach the poison.

Frankie sighs. He lets go. “I’m tryna be nice, alright? You know nice?”

“I know nice. You’re not it.”

“Shut up and eat your hotdog, lil Santi.”

You mimic him in a squeak as he strolls off, shaking his head. Still, the second he’s back at the grill, you rip into the hotdog.

Frankie stays at the opposite end of the table for the entire meal – closest seat to the barbecue, and furthest seat from you. There’s too much chatter, too much hilarity being thrown back and forth between you for either of you to kick up a row.

Probably better for the guys’ sakes, but – you want to fucking row.

It’s like a hit, now. A rush of electricity, any time Frankie looks at you for longer than it takes his face to twist into a grimace. You’re hunting for ways to ignite something – anything. Looking for an excuse to drop that naked match and set the whole thing alight.

Because it’s fun, when you’re in the heat of it. Feeling his eyes on you, as hot and angry as flames. Being suffocated by the smoke of it all; breathing in less and less air and more…him.

And, anyway – who knows you better than the one person who pisses you off the most?

As the sun is snuffed by the heavy hand of dusk, you disappear to a quieter corner of the yard. Tucked between two thick beech trees, you throw yourself into the hammock – one leg draped over the side, swinging idly through the night air.

A beer bottle balanced on your tummy, the round base seeping a chilled ring into your shirt. The swish of leaves overhead and the annoying midges at your ears for company.

That is – until the sound of footsteps over crisp grass, and the creak of an old, splintered garden chair disturb your peace.

Frankie adjusts his cap, flatting his fringe beneath it, and sits back. “You never change, do you, Garcia? Still the same little longer you always were.”

You hold your hands out, gulping back beer – and glee. “Can I fucking help you? I’m minding my own business.”

“Thought you might want some company.”

“Not yours, dickhead. You think I’m way the hell over here ‘cause I wanted you to come annoy me?”

He hums, picking at a flake of paint on the armrest. “Sure wanted me to annoy you the other night.”

“Alright,” you clip. “Cheap shot. You been practicing that one all afternoon?”

“Since I saw you at the store.”

You roll your eyes.

Frankie slips a cigarette from its pack and lights it, tipping his chin to blow a white cloud to the sky. “You’re too much fun,” he tells the stars.

You squint through the dark, staring at the glowing cherry. “What?”

“You. You get so pissed, so easily. Always have.”

“Well, you antagonize me. Always have.”

His cheeks lift. It’s something softer than a smirk, still laced with too much attitude to be a smile. “That’s ‘cause you were always around. Everywhere Santi went, there you were. Closer than his shadow.”

“Well,” you glower, “’s what happens when you have a big brother. You’re void of love; I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I get it,” he says. “It just got fun to mess with you, after a while.”

“Uhuh,” you take another swig, “so is that what you’re doing? Messing with me?”

Frankie’s shoulders jump. “You tell me. There were two of us in your room that night.”

You swing your legs down to the grass. It’s brittle under your socks when you stand, still focusing on the end of his cigarette. “Damn, you really can’t shut up about it, can you? How many times have you tugged one to the thought of it?”

“Tugged one,” he snickers, but he seems nervous – watching as you approach. “What age are you?”

You push his knees wider, slotting between his thighs. “Which part does it for you? What sends you over the edge?”

“Come on, lil Santi,” Frankie says, averting his eye. “You’re embarrassing yourself now.”

One knee up, resting on the crease of his jeans. You lean forward and nudge his hip, lay your hands gently on his shoulders. “I bet you still hear me in your dreams.”

He scans up and down your body, lingering on your bare thigh. “Not – not gonna work, kid,” he promises, shaking his head. “You still annoy the fuck outta me.”

“Right, right.” You pinch the pale stick from between his teeth. “’cause nothing’s changed, yeah?”

His head sways in agreement. He’s distracted, watching as you lift your hand to your mouth.

You smile down at him. “’cept you know how I taste now, so.”

You slot the damp end of the cigarette between your lips and suck. Sharp, acrid heat sails over your tongue and down your throat, filling your chest in one inhale. You cough a little, batting the smoke as you blow it out.

“Tastes fucking disgusting,” you croak. “How can you smoke these?”

Frankie’s eyes never leave your lips. “You get used to it.”

You take another draw, letting the smoke soar through the space between you. “Gross,” you say, and prop the cig back between his lips. “Just like you!”

“Sh…shut up,” he groans, adjusting in his seat.

“Make me.”

But he doesn’t bite. Doesn’t flinch. He just stares back, rolling the smoldering stick between his thumb and finger. Running his tongue along his teeth.

You spill the last of your beer onto your tongue, cocking an eyebrow at him, and push from his lap.

You make it no more than five steps, before that same weight from the parking lot is around your shoulders.

He pings the cigarette somewhere in the grass, and grabs onto your elbow.

“Fran– Jesus – Where are we–?”

He drags you through the dull dusk to the other side of the lawn, ignoring the click of the motion sensor. You’re thrown through a wooden door onto cold concrete before the yard light floods over you.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Weak slivers of moonlight illuminate each tool hanging from the wall. The fairy lights outside lose their battle against the darkness the second they creep through the window.

Before you can sling something mocking at him, Frankie has you pinned against the wall.

“You want me to make you shut up?” he growls, teeth grazing your neck. His fingers slip behind the waist of your shorts, plucking at the button. “I’ll make you shut up. Make you shut up all goddamn night.”

“Frankie,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his shirt. You push on his chest, walking him backwards over to the workbench.

The thing shudders when he rocks against it.

“The fuck are you doing?” he murmurs, watching as you kneel before him.

“Getting used to it,” you reply.

You pull his belt apart, loosen the fly on his pants, and pull until they’re low on his hips.

Frankie holds onto the bench with a white-knuckle grip. He lays his hand over the crown of your head, rubbing small circles. A laugh slips across his tongue. “This what you’ve been thinkin’ about?”

You ignore him, instead focusing on the solid shape in his underwear.

His hips flinch when you drag your palm along it. He’s hard already. He hisses at your cold fingers on his stomach, tensing as your knuckles skim below the elastic.

And then…he’s in your palm. All of him. Frankie fucking Morales.

You’re trying not to think too deep about it.

Your fingers wrap around him, barely meeting around his width, and you slip him from his boxers.

His cock springs free, swaying once, twice – then settling to the right.

Your mouth fills with saliva. Suddenly – there’s no way not to think too deep about it.

He’s…he’s big. He’s thick; smooth and sculpted, veins trailing around his shaft. It’s not like you ever considered what he’s walking around with before, but looking at it now – you can’t believe it’s him.

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him all the way down to the hair at his base. A wet trail, lips curving around the size of him. You run your tongue up and down, circling the tip and toying with it.

Frankie cups your cheek. “Pretty little mouth,” he utters. “Put it to good use, huh?”

You don’t need him to ask twice.

You sink down on him. Every inch of him – every aching, choking inch. Your jaw slackens to take him; nails digging into his thighs when he bumps the back of your throat.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he hisses. His hand comes down on your head a little too heavily.

You yelp and pull back, gasping when he slips out. “Prick,” you breathe, closing your lips around his tip again.

“Just too sweet with it,” he murmurs, guiding himself back across your tongue.

You suckle on him, using your hands to pump the inches your mouth can’t take.

Frankie’s head tips back, panting at the roof. His hips thrust to meet your movements. “Feels so – goddamn – good,” he moans, and you hum with glee.

You take his balls in your hands, kneading them as you work your way lower. He’s so deep in your mouth that it makes your eyes water. Each slip of his tip against the back of your throat makes you gag, pulls a lewd, muffled sound from your chest.

It shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. But he’s falling apart under your fingertips, he’s unwinding right before you. He’s whispering your name, begging you not to stop. Just like that, just like that, just like that. Oh, fuck, just like that.

It’s addictive. Now that you know how he looks, how he feels, you’ll never go back to before. When the most thrill he gave you was a burning temper; feeling your pulse jump in your throat with rage.

This – whatever the fuck this is – is all you know, now. Pulling threads from one another, watching the way they unravel. Watching each other unravel. Flashes of eye contact, salt and slick and sex dripping from every secret word.

Frankie’s hips jerk. His cock spasms.

You don’t want him to come down your throat. You don’t want him to climax when he’s too deep for you to taste it.

You want him all over – your lips, your tongue, dribbling down your chin. You want to mix him with your saliva and swallow; warm, salty, Frankie.

He got his taste. Now you want yours.

You bring your hands up to his thighs, purposefully pushing back off him.

His grip loosens, and he looks down. Brows low and close, eyes blown wide like he’s higher than any drug could take him.

He’s as addicted as you are.

“My mouth,” you mumble, head of his cock circling your glistening lips. “In my mouth.”

“Yeah?” he says, and the weight of his cock slaps on your bottom lip. “That where you want it, baby?”

“Mhm.” You wrap your lips back around him.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Frankie spits, laughing. “Shit – just like that. Yeah, that’s it.”

Three, four more soaking strokes of your tongue and he’s twitching again.

You pull back only enough to rest his tip on your tongue, feeling the pulsing heat as he comes. Watching the way his face tightens, the pull of his brows as it overcomes him.

His eyes stay locked on you. Your fluttering lashes, your puffy, glossy lips. He fills your mouth and then some – semen spilling from the corners and dribbling down your jaw. And the sound he makes – this broken, scattered moan, bordering on a fucking whimper – is fucking perfect.

Frankie’s hand locks at the base of your skull, holding you steady until he’s done. His cock slips from your bottom lip. He gives one last satisfied sigh, petting your head as you stroke him slowly, tenderly – swiping kitten licks at the dripping mess of him.

“Fuck,” he moans, letting his eyes close over. His weight slumps against the workbench. “The fuck do you spend so much time yapping for when you’re that good with your mouth?”

You hum in amusement, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. He’s softening, but still a decent size. Still a weight to it that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

One last little kiss, and you tuck him back into his boxers. You drag the back of your hand across your chin.

Frankie holds his hands out, and you pull yourself up. He fixes himself into his jeans, turning away to do up his belt. He had his cock in your throat two minutes ago, and here he is pretending to be shy.

He turns back around, half disappeared to the dark shed. “I, uh…I don’t want you to think that I came here just to…just for that.”

Your tongue dabs at the inside of your cheek, all salty. “Then this is awkward, ‘cause that’s the only reason I hadn’t kicked you out yet.”

He laughs, dropping your gaze. “You…” he shakes his head, “…are such a little shit, you know that?”

It’s nicer than he would’ve worded it half an hour ago. But still – having an exchange with Frankie that doesn’t involve spitting insults or jagged glares, warms your blood in a way that’s new and…unsettling.

“We should probably…” You toss a thumb over your shoulder, eyes flitting to the string bulbs outside. “We don’t want them wondering what’s…you know.”

He nods and strides over to the door. The wood squeals against concrete as he pulls it open.

The summer swirls around you again, sweetening the stuffy heat of the shed. Mal’s voice surfs through the breeze – she’s still arguing over the Busch Gardens story.

You make to step out, and Frankie’s arm halts you.

He opens his palm. “Even,” he tells you. “We’re even.”

He seems sure of himself. Sure of you. He looks you in the eye and doesn’t blink.

You smirk. Your hand slips into his, letting him shake your fist once. You stare straight back at him.

“We’re just getting fucking started, Francisco.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales fic #frankie morales smut #bbf!frankie #pedro pascal #triple frontier #triple frontier fic

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 1 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Ana and you are both struggling with unwanted transfers, but maybe you can at least find happiness off the pitch.

A/N: This is the first part of a story I've been working on for a while. I guess my way of processing my emotions about Ana's transfer. I've been in the denial stage for a long time 😅

The next two chapters are already written (just need to edit them) and so far it's a total of about 13k words. I'm now at a crossroad which will decide how long the story becomes. So I thought I'd publish the first part and see how much interest there is in a story like this to help me decide.

It felt like a cruel joke of the universe that now, now when you had been forced to leave, the woman you’ve had a crush on for years, joined your team, or well your former team. Words that made your heart crack a little more every time you thought them. Never in a billion years had you expected your team to become your former team.

Ever since you had first laid eyes on Ana you had been dazzled by her, not necessarily only by her looks, although you definitely enjoyed them, but also by her personality and her aura. She always radiated so much kindness and positive energy. It was impossible not to be drawn to her.

Sadly your paths didn’t cross all too often and when they did, Ana was always somewhere in the heart of whatever group you were part of, while you were lingering on the edges, looking in. So the Swiss woman was probably only vaguely aware of your existence, while you soaked up every detail you could find about Ana. The more you learnt, the more you liked her.

 And yes, sometimes when you lay in bed at night you made up little scenarios how the two of you would meet. One of your favorite ones was Ana coming to Atleti, not really knowing her way around Madrid yet, so you take her under your wing and show her everything. And of course she starts falling for you as you spend so much time together. It was your imagination after all, so you could day dream all you wanted.

Now part of this little fantasy was actually coming true, Ana really was joining Atlético, and it frustrated you to no end that now that she came, you were gone.  Although perhaps it wasn’t the universe being cruel towards you, maybe it was protecting you because even if you played for the same team there was no way the Swiss woman would ever go for someone like you.

Still, you spent a good amount of time fuming about it in your apartment. Possibly also because it was easier to focus on that rather than on the fact that your childhood club had just dropped you like you meant nothing.  Every time you remembered the conversation with the club’s managers you felt like throwing up, hiding under the covers for the rest of your life, and ripping off your ears so you didn’t have to listen to one more word from them. So yeah, it was comforting in a weird way to think about your missed chance with Ana, especially since it never had been much of a chance anyway.

It was harder to hold on to that strange comfort when training actually started and you had to go to Real Madrid’s training center every day. Most days were spent attempting to do your best and keep your negative emotions in check, while thinking nonstop about how much you hated this, how much you wanted to return to Atelti, how much you wanted to leave Madrid altogether.

So all in all you weren’t having the best time, barely getting by was actually a more accurate way to describe it. Then a few weeks after the season started you got a call from Lola.

“Sooo I heard you’re doing a lot of moping these days,” she teased you.

However there was an underlying note of worry in her voice. You had done your best to pretend as if Atleti’s decision hadn’t hurt you, that these things happen in football, and you were completely fine with it, but Lola had seen right through it.

“I’m not moping, I’m just quiet and focused like usual,” you quickly defended yourself. It was only partially true, you hated every single second you spent at the training center of Real Madrid.

“That’s not what I’ve heard, but how about you convince me over a cup of coffee. Maybe tomorrow afternoon?”

You didn’t even question how Lola knew that you had the day off tomorrow, apparently she had some spies at Real. As much as you didn’t want to continue talking about the misery that was your new club, you did want to see your friend, so you agreed.

“I might ask some other people if they want to tag along. Everyone misses you,” Lola continued, making you happy and sad at the same time. It was nice to be missed, but you wished you weren’t in a position where you could be missed.

Before you could hang up, Lola told you to bring “your moping buddy Misa”, then she ended the call with a cackle, not giving you any chance to retaliate. In all honesty there was some truth to it, both you and Misa were unhappy at Real, so it wasn’t surprising that she was the only person you had really bonded with so far.

Going by Lola’s words you expected a big group the next day when you entered the café you had agreed upon. What you found however were merely three people, Lola, Misa and no one other than Ana.

Suddenly your stomach was filled with butterflies flapping their wings wildly, making you somewhat nauseous as a result. You hadn’t expected this and you weren’t prepared for it at all. If it wouldn’t have been incredibly rude you would have walked right back out of the café.

Instead you walked over to the small group, doing your best impression of a friendly smile. You could have sworn you saw a knowing glint in both Misa’s and Lola’s eyes. There was no way they knew about your crush though, right?

Lola jumped up when she saw you, hugging you tightly. “It’s good to see you, chica, I’ve missed you,” she told you.

You had to blink a couple of times to chase away the tears burning in your eyes. There was no denying that you had missed her too, all of your former teammates really. You longed to be back at Atlético, and not only because Ana was there.

Right, Ana.

You extracted yourself from your friend and smiled at the blonde. Should you hug her as well? Or greet her with kisses on the cheeks? That’s exactly why you should have been informed that Ana would be there, so that you could think this over beforehand. Or, well, over think it.

Unlike you Ana knew exactly what to do; she got up, greeted you kindly and gave you a quick hug. “It’s nice to see you again, Y/N. We’ve never had much of a chance to talk, so I’m glad we get one now.”

For a few seconds too long you started at her. You were torn between awe, and a little bit of envy, at how easily the Swiss woman had navigated this greeting, and shock. She remembered you? She was happy to see you? Once your heart slowed down from a wild canter to a moderate gallop and your brain was working more clearly again, you realized that this was probably just something Ana had said to make the situation less awkward, not something she truly meant.

“So, do you want to sit down?” Lola suggested with a smirk on her face. Thankfully she left it at that though and you quickly sank down into a chair. You felt too embarrassed to look at Ana, so you completely missed the reassuring smile she sent your way.

After that things went much more smoothly, mostly because Lola and Ana carried the conversation, allowing you and Misa to remain in your preferred role, attentive listener. Your former teammate as well as your crush tried valiantly to draw you out of your shell, but out of fear of saying something stupid, you kept your answers as short as possible without being weird or unfriendly. If only you could think of something witty to say!

On the bright side your relative quietness gave you a good opportunity to study Ana. She was stunning as always, but you could easily spot the signs of the toll this move to the Atlético had taken on her; her smile wasn’t quite as wide as usual and didn’t reach her eyes, her voice was a little duller, there were badly covered up dark bags underneath her eyes and she was a bit more subdued than normal  in general. Man, you really had spent way too long looking at any video of her you could find to notice things like that!

Then all of the sudden Misa let out a gasp. “I completely forgot I promised my neighbor I’d let in her daughter today. I need to leave right now to make it.”

You frowned at your teammate; it wasn’t like her to forget something as important as that. Was something more than her unhappiness with being stuck at Real bothering her? You made a mental note to ask Misa about it the next day, remind her that you were always there if she needed someone.

Misa’s departure didn’t really change anything in the dynamic, she hadn’t contributed much just like you. But then Lola got a phone call from her girlfriend who apparently needed your former teammate urgently. She looked at the two of you apologetically, however you could swear that there was some glee shimmering behind her regretful front.

“You girls should stay here and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Really I’m so sorry about this, don’t let it ruin your day,” Lola babbled, pressing a kiss to both your and Ana’s cheek before dashing out of the café.

You looked after her with confusion. The confusion however was short-lived, quickly drowned out by panic once you realized that you were now left alone with Ana. No more hiding behind other people, no more safety net. You weren’t ready. However leaving also wasn’t an option, there was no way you could do so without offending Ana, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I’m sorry about that,” Ana apologized, bringing your confusion back. As far as you were aware the Swiss woman had absolutely nothing to apologize for.

“They probably planned this because they think I need to be more social again. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jenni put them up to it, she’s been pretty worried,” the Swiss woman specified, leaving you reeling because you didn’t know how to deal with that much honesty.

“Oh,” you replied, praying that some more words would enter your brain. “Maybe they also did it for me. They think I’m pretty antisocial in general,” you finished, kicking yourself for making yourself look even more pathetic than you already did.

To your surprise Ana didn’t seem put off; on the contrary she chuckled and said, “Well we can be antisocial together then.”

The Swiss woman using the word ‘together’ in reference to the both of you made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, you could definitely get used to that.

In an attempt to take control of the situation and not end up blurting out something stupid if Ana asked you a question, you inquired how she was liking Madrid so far. It seemed like a normal thing to ask someone that had just moved to a new place.

However the Swiss woman didn’t answer right away, which was atypical for her who always seemed to have a reply ready. That combined with the guarded look in her eyes made you realize that this wasn’t a safe and easy topic for her. In your rush to make sure nothing that would be complicated for you came up, you had totally forgotten that Ana’s own move to Madrid had been anything but a happy occurence. Way to be selfish!

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Forget I said anything, that was such a stupid thing to say,” you apologized frantically

“No, don’t worry, it’s fine,” Ana quickly reassured you. “I just don’t really know what to say. Obviously I didn’t want to come here, I miss Barcelona. Both the city and the team. So I’m not having the best time to be completely honest. Then again I also haven’t given Madrid much of a chance yet. So…”

The Swiss woman’s openness left you stunned once again. This could never be you, sharing your thoughts and feelings so freely. At the same time you noticed with a surge of excitement and dread that Ana’s explanation gave you a good opening, not unlike your daydreams in fact.

Your fear of being annoying and overstepping was battling hard against your longing to get to spend more time with the blonde in the future. In the end you decided to go for it, maybe Ana would appreciate it and if she didn’t want to hang out again, she could just say so. Of course there was still the fear of rejection holding you back, but you shoved that to the back of your mind. If you didn’t ask the answer would always be no, right?

“If you want to I could show you around Madrid sometime. I’ve lived here all my life so I know the place like the back of my hand and know some nice places. Totally fine if you don’t of course, I’m sure there are many other people that could show you around.”

You spoke in record speed, making it hard for Ana to follow, which was why it took her a moment to answer. These few seconds were some of the most horrible ones in your life. If she said no now all your hopes would be shattered once and for all. Everyone always said it was important to know so you could move on, but honestly if the Swiss woman didn’t want to spend any time with you, you didn’t want to know.

“That sounds great, I’d love to,” Ana replied once she had enough time to process your jumble of words.

“Really?” You double checked, the words out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Yeah, definitely,” the Swiss woman confirmed with a gentle smile. A smile that you returned happily. You hadn’t felt this excited in a while, it was a nice change from the bleakness that had become your constant companion.

The rest of your time together was spent chatting easily. You weren’t a great conversationalist, however with Ana it came much more natural. The blonde definitely did the heavy lifting, but you were happy with your own contributions. You even made her laugh a few times!

Later that day when you were back in your apartment you were much more critical, taking apart every single thing that you had said and coming to the conclusion that you must be the stupidest person on the planet. Thankfully you were going to get another chance in a few days and this time you would be better prepared. You would say interesting things and you would make sure Ana had a great time. The blonde deserved some joy and happiness and you would do your best to give her that.

Before your next meeting with Ana you actually made a plan; you would make a list of her interests and think of possible questions, some jokes and interesting facts you could mention. You spent one evening on it, working furiously and then you realized what you were doing, feeling very foolish all of the sudden. You scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it into the trash with some force.

This was pointless and unnecessary and totally embarrassing! Maybe you weren’t the best at coming up with things to say on the spot, but rehearsing everything like this was a role in a play was stupid. The urge to do absolutely everything to get Ana to like you was huge, however is she only liked this carefully crafted version of you that wasn’t any better than her not liking you at all.

Also, you shouldn’t even attempt to get the Swiss woman to like you. Just like you should keep your own crush in check. Ana’s life was complicated enough at the moment, you didn’t need to add your infatuation into the mix.

Unfortunately your noble plan to ignore your crush failed miserably. Whenever you spent time with Ana you fell a little more for her. It was simply impossible not to when she was the kindest, funniest, most interesting and on top of that most beautiful person in the world.

Like when you were out and about on one of your strolls to the city and a young couple approached you, asking if you could take a picture of them. As was typical for you, you hesitated for a moment; not necessarily because you didn’t want to, but because your mind was already working in overdrive, supplying you with every possible negative outcome.

Ana on the other hand smiled at them. “Of course! Where do you want to take it?”

And then she proceeded to take several pictures of the two, showing them to the couple, and when they weren’t completely satisfied yet, she even offered her own suggestions on how they might turn out even better.

All the way you were just watching them, well mostly Ana, with a goofy smile. You loved how much she cared, how much effort she put into random people she didn’t even know. No wait, you didn’t love that, you liked that, admired it.

Or when Ana convinced you to go into a tiny café. A place you would have never frequented on your own because the intimacy of it freaked you out. Not the blonde though. Within seconds she began chatting with the owner, a middle-aged woman who was thrilled someone showed so much interest in her small establishment.

The cake you got was very tasty as was the coffee and the homemade ice tea. You were quick to admit that Ana had made a good decision by forcing you to go there.

However what really pulled at your heartstring was that the Swiss woman went up to the owner afterwards and asked if it was okay to post about this place on Instagram. The poor woman almost started crying out of happiness and thanked Ana profusely, while the blonde kept insisting that this was nothing and really it should be her thanking the owner.

So it was safe to say that you fell deeper and harder every time you saw Ana. But it was okay, you had a foolproof way to make sure that the blonde didn’t figure it out and therefore her life didn’t get disrupted because of you. Whenever you echoed a statement Ana had made about how much she liked hanging out with you or that she thought you were a great person, you always added ‘friend’ into the mix; “I enjoy hanging out with you too, you’re such a great friend.” and “Aw thank you. You’re one of the best people and friends I know too!”

Sometimes when you were feeling particularly hopeful you wondered if the lack of specification on Ana’s part meant that she liked you as more than a friend. You always discarded the idea quickly though. It was much more likely that the thought of being more than friends was so ludicrous to the blonde, something that had probbly never even grazed her mind, that she didn’t feel the need to explicitly state it.

Despite having to resign yourself to the fact that Ana didn’t like you like that, it still made you happy that she was usually in a good mood when you were hanging out. Something you were secretly very proud of. Still every once in a while her sadness shined through, for example when she heard someone speak Catalan or when she saw something that reminded her of Barcelona.

One time a group of fans came up to her. They were friendly and excited and the Swiss woman matched their energy effortlessly. But then one of them mentioned how sad they were that Ana wasn’t playing for Barça anymore. You were forced to watch the blonde deflate slightly after that thoughtless statement. She was good at pretending though, so the fans were none the wiser.

When they were gone you gathered all of your courage. Up until now you had stayed in the shallows of easy conversation so this was a first and once again you worried about overstepping. But when you saw Ana’s sad eyes and the forcefully pulled up corners of her mouth, you couldn’t stay silent.

“Do you want to talk about it? I mean your transfer from Barça? I know we haven’t really talked about that or othe serious things yet, but I’m always happy to listen. I’m actually pretty good at that.”

The Swiss woman sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“That’s very sweet but honestly I’ve been talking so much about it lately. Sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing anyone wants to talk about anymore. So if it’s okay with you could we just continue like before? The distraction has been helping a lot.”

You had been helping! Happiness flowed through you and your smile was maybe a bit bigger than was warranted for a situation like this. However unless Ana was studying you as intently as you always studied her, you doubted that the blonde would notice.

“Yeah, of course. I’m happy to help in anyway.”

Ana and you kept seeing each other regularly and it was the undisputed highlight of your current life. Honestly it was a little worrying how few other things brought you any joy, but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on that.

So when you were put into a situation where you had to cancel on Ana you were devastated. It wasn’t an appropriate reaction to something so small, but you had a ten minute crying session until you could even begin to function properly again. Calling the Swiss woman was out of the question though, you were still chocked up and sniffling.

Instead you texted her, apologizing multiple times and explaining that you were roped into doing all sorts of things last minute for your father’s birthday tomorrow. You could have slapped yourself for not seeing this coming. Sure, your parents had assured you time and time again that everything was taken care of, but you should have known better. Then you could have done it before today and weren’t forced to cancel on Ana.

Only minutes after you had sent the text your phone started ringing with a call from the Swiss woman. With wide, panicked eyes you stared at the screen. In the end your desire to at least hear Ana’s voice if you couldn’t see her won out. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice anything.

 „Hey I just saw your text and wanted to ask if I can help out with anything.”

You smiled at your phone, your heart warmed by Ana’s kindness. There was no doubt in your mind that she would actually follow through on your offer. Not that you would ever take it.

“Aw thank you so much, Ana! But it’s okay really. Most things I have to do at my parents place anyway. You know help them clean and decorate. So I’ll be out most of the day, and then in the evening I’ll have to bake the cake. Who knows how that’s going to go.”

You chuckled, even if you were feeling slightly panicked at the idea of baking. Normally your mother was in charge of that, but she had broken her arm a few weeks ago, so that was out of the question. Moments like this made you wish that you had some siblings or some cousins for that matter, just anyone to help you out.

“Not to brag, but I’m actually a great baker. So if you want some help, I’m happy to come over in the evening and help,” the blonde offered.

It would be nice to have some help, and you always wanted to see Ana. Plus she had brought up the idea of her own accord, so surely it was okay, right?

“That would be great actually. Thank you so much,” you replied, not giving your mind any more opportunity to drive yourself crazy.

Ana and you quickly planned everything out before you hung up and left to do everything else. With the prospect of seeing the Swiss woman later today you were a lot more cheerful than before.

“What’s got you so happy?” Your mother asked you while she supervised the decorating process.

It was incredibly frustrating since she kept criticizing everything you did. Every few minutes you had to step away for a moment, take some deep breaths and visualize how your evening with Ana would be, full of laughter and fun conversation.

“Not this, that’s for sure,” you muttered, low enough so that your mothers whose hearing wasn’t the best anymore, couldn’t here you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you said louder, “I’m just in a good mood, I guess.”

There was no point in bringing up Ana. Nothing would ever happen between the two of you and even after knowing about it for almost ten years your parents still struggled with your sexuality. To avoid unnecessary conflict and awkwardness you never spoke about women you liked unless it was something serious. So never.

“You should focus on decorating and not smile so much. Maybe then we would get somewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, but kept your mouth shut. No point in pointing out that most parents would be happy if their child was happy. And it wasn’t like your mother wasn’t happy about it, she just wasn’t good at being pleasant around you. Somehow she always felt the need to criticize you.

Hours later you got into your car, quickly drove away and as soon as you were a decent distance from your parents’ house you let out a loud scream, releasing all of the built up frustration. Then you set your focus on the near future, on the fact that you would be meeting Ana in half an hour at your apartment. Baking wasn’t really your thing, but baking with the Swiss sounded like a lot of fun. Anything was fun with her really; just being around her made you so happy.

When you got to your apartment Ana was already waiting for you, leaning against her car. A big smile appeared on the blonde’s face when she saw you and she waved at you happily. It warmed your insides, swept away any remnant of frustration from the long day with your parents, seeing how excited Ana was to see you.

You got set up quickly, putting out all the ingredients and opening up the recipe you had settled on. Then you turned to the Swiss woman expectantly.

“So any baking pro tips from you before we start?” You asked teasingly.

Ana looked at you sheepishly.

“To be completely honest I don’t really know that much about baking. I usually only bake once a year to make some Christmas cookie,” the blonde admitted, scratching her nose.

You frowned at her in confusion. This didn’t really make any sense to you, but you didn’t want to make Ana feel bad about it.

“So why did you say you did?” You asked carefully. „I mean only if you want to tell me, it’s totally fine if you don’t. I’m sure you had your reasons.”

The Swiss woman blushed a little as she explained herself, “I really just wanted to spend some time with you today.”

Your heart started racing at this confession, your hopes going through the roof.  It didn’t take long for the logical part of your brain to bring you back to earth though. Surely this didn’t mean what you wanted it to mean. Most likely Ana was just struggling today and didn’t want to be alone.

“Oh I’m sorry you’re having a hard time today. You know you can always tell me that and if it’s possible at all I’ll always make time for you. You don’t have to make up reasons to hang out.”

Ana stared at you with a pained expression. It hurt your heart to see her in pain and it made you wonder if something had happened today, perhaps something that reminded her of Barcelona?

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked when the blonde stayed quiet, but then you thought better of it. “Wait no I’m sorry, you already said that you’re tired of talking about it before and that you prefer a distraction. So let’s bake!”

You put some extra excitement into your voice and made sure to keep up a stream of easy chatter as you got to work. For a while Ana remained a bit distant and quiet, but before too long her smile returned and she began talking and joking.

When the blonde laughed loudly at a joke you had made you felt very proud of yourself for giving Ana what she needed, a distraction. If you continued to be helpful she would keep wanting to hang out with you and that was also very much in your interest. Even if the knowledge that it meant something else to you hurt somewhat every time you thought of it.

However it was all worth it to get to spend time with Ana. Everything was worth that.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #ana maria crnogorcevic imagine #ana maria crnogorcevic x reader

[acotarxreader]

Jilted

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: The morning of your wedding your fears are enforced by an old way of thought, sending you running and Azriel to cope with the aftermath but will a reunion set you both back on the path you should both be living?

Warnings: Angsty

A/N: Right, you may find yourself hating Reader for a bit but I tried my best convey the panic and pressure.

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“I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this”

“Shh YNN you'll be fine! This is what you want!” Mor caught you in her arms, your train half tangling your feet. You cried into her chest, not caring if your make-up was streaming down your face, your sister and maid of honour rocking you gently.

“YN, come on sweetie, it's just pre-wedding jitters, happens to most, Azriel will be waiting to see his beautiful bride!”

“Mor it's too soon! I was going to be a writer! Go off and live on the continent, I have never even been! There's still so much I want to go and do!”

“And you will! You will YN! You and Az will do that together and more! Marriage isn't going to change that!”

“You're right, you're right” You pulled from her, rubbed under your eyes and sat back down at the vanity. You looked into the mirror at the person you hardly recognised and silently went about reapplying your makeup.

“You look beautiful YN” You could only nod at her, afraid if you opened your mouth again it would set off a series of unfortunate events.

“I’m going to go check on Azriel” She gave you a smile before ducking out of the pastel room, leaving you alone. You steadied your breathing, batting your tears away with your lashes before they could fall further.  You loved Azriel, he was your life force, saved you from yourself and you returned the same to him. He was your everything. These thoughts brought ease to you. You ran a soft hairbrush through your flowing locks, a smile beginning to reappear on your face.

“Oh you look lovely my child” The sound of a weathered female's voice came up behind you, causing you to jump slightly. She was of pure Illyrian blood, a representative of a dying way of thought, a relic in her own right, Azriels only remaining relative he was in contact with.

“Thank you, Elena” You found your head bowing slightly to her, unsure of why, you out-ranked her and yet you felt the pressure of the millennia of the institution she represented weigh on you. 

“You're going to make a wonderful wife YN” She almost snaked up behind you as quietly as she entered the room as you watched her in the reflection. You tried not to stare at the clipped tattered wings that hung from the female, she tucked them in as if noticing your glance. 

“I just know you'll keep him a nice life”

“What do you mean?” You turned to face the skeletal woman, her bone-chilling words wrapping around your lungs.

“Well, I mean being the wife of a powerful Illyrian of course! And just think YN when the children come along you'll be so busy raising the next generation of warriors! Not much time for other things but what could be more important than the bloodline? Azriel is a hard worker, I know he'll provide in tenfolds” She smiled as if she wasn't throwing a live grenade, it began to smoke as the pin was pulled from it inside your head. You could feel your chest compressing further with the strangling tradition.

“Well, Az and I will be both working and you know we won't be having offspring until after we travel and even then we'll both be looking after them” You tried to calm yourself down but her shrill laughter put a quick stop to relief you had from your own words.

“Oh, my child don't we all think that! You're marrying an Illyrian, bastard born or not-” the words cut you, anger replacing anxiety for a moment until she continued “-He can’t suppress the urges of his blood. His life partner will be malleable, mute and well-behaved, does what is expected of her. Azriel has other things to be doing for his Court than raising children, female work” 

“I-” You couldn’t find the words through the magma-thick matter-of-fact speech she choked you with. 

“-Well, I must go make myself useful elsewhere child” Her crochet-hook-like fingers dug into your shoulders with a squeeze before she turned and left you in the solitude of your room once more. 

You could feel the air rush from your lungs as you fought to stop the oxygen from evaporating from your blood. You stood, pacing, blood rushing to your face as you stumbled on the train of your dress, hitting the carpet with unforgiving force. You lay for a moment on the carpet, hands splayed out in front of you, your engagement catching the light like you loved. It suddenly feeling much too tight. 

“Gods! Fuck! I can’t do this!” You stood on rattling knees, grabbing things frantically from the dresser before you could fully become cognisant of the actions.

You moved quickly and carefully through the door and into the empty hallway, avoiding the directions where laughs leaked out, them falling like battle cries in your ears. 

You reached the stone steps of the venue with quiet desperation, your adrenaline and anxiety now fully controlling your body as you bolted down the path, half stumbling. You whipped around to look back up to the hill where the hall of your friends and family waited for the blushing bride, tears claiming your face as their own as you dashed into the streets of Velaris before anyone inside became the wiser.

—----------

Funerals are a strange thing. They do strange things to people. You thought this as you stood at the back of a hall you had not been inside in almost 70 years, thought about how the female they were saying goodbye to today shook your entire life up like it was nothing. You looked around and imagined it the week after you left, the day you left, the hour after you left. You thought of the moments you missed with your chosen family since you fled the Night Court and all its wonderful attributes, you pushed the guilt you had been fighting ever since then back down

From the back row, your eyes landed on the backs of the three Archeron sisters, their stories meeting you on your travels around the globe. You smothered the smile that toyed at your mouth, the thoughts of your friends happy and in love warming you. Your gaze landed on the the back of Azriels head as it hung in respect. Too much, this was too much, you couldn’t deal with him seeing you. As you had 70 years previously, you slipped from the hall without anyone noticing. 

You were met with the warm Spring sun, a beautiful day in Velaris, as they all were. You wandered down the unforgiving steps, your name from a familiar voice stopping you.

“Yn?” 

“Mor!”

“Yn!” She ran down the steps, taking you in her arms, the feeling of home rushing to you. You were so happy to hold your sister having worked through the issues that arose from your wedding day. At first, she rightfully iced you entirely but after two decades of silence, she reached out, asking to reconnect, missing her sister in the fray and yet you always found an excuse to not come home. 

“Yn I'm so happy you're back! You came back for the funeral?”

“Yeah I did, felt I needed to”

“Yeah I mean I suppose they were almost your family too” she smiled before realising her words and apologising, a weak smile grew on your face in acceptance of the throwaway comment. The two of you continued down a winding road away from the groups leaking out of the hall.

“So how long are you here?”

“Just the weekend, I have meetings on Monday, I’m staying at our old apartment, remember?”

“Oh yes! Just a flying visit so, the busy life of a successful big-time author I suppose”

“Oh yeah, I'm plagued with the title” you laughed, finally meeting the Sidra as it coursed, its glimmering water making you smile.

“Yeah, your success really boomed after leaving here” She almost sounded sad before beaming at you again and catching your hands in hers.

“I guess, I missed you though, I missed the Night Court”

“And Azriel?” The name struck pure pain into your heart, as if seeing the back of his head in the hall wasn't bad enough, hearing his name was almost catastrophic, you only nodded.

“Well, he misses you too YN” She squeezed your hands.

“He doesn't, he couldn't, not after what I did to him Mor” She looked at you with sympathy, looking back up the street you just walked down. 

“I have to get back, they’ll be looking for me” You gave her an understanding smile 

“Meet me for a drink later in Rita’s, we have so much to catch up on” as she kissed your cheek goodbye with her words before returning back up the street to the hall again.

You looked out over the Sidra, an empty plot of land ripping through your heart. It was there where you and Azriel were going to build, it still stayed empty. A mausoleum to your relationship. You peeled your eyes from it, looking elsewhere around the city you adored, deciding to spend the remainder of your evening re-acquainting yourself with it. 

-

Night fell in the city of stars as you found your way towards the Town House by muscle memory alone. You felt so alive being back, more alive than any amount of travel or success ever brought you. You leaned against the fence, waiting happily for your sister.

“Y-Yn?” his face dropped, his voice alone causing you to bite the inside of your mouth to almost bleed. The red flush from your walking was gone from your face growing pale at the sight of him standing on the other side of the street. He crossed slowly as if any sudden movement would send you running.

“H-Hi Az-Azriel, you look - you look well” 

“Thank- what are you doing here YN?” tones of confused sadness left Azriel, the anger towards you he felt so many years ago unable to be conjured back at will. He thought about this moment so often and yet, he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d said in those imaginary encounters.

“I-I’m meeting Mor, I-”

“Azriel, hey there you are!” The small beaming brunette Fae seemingly came from nowhere to his side, her hand tucking into his so effortlessly. You pushed every yearning thought from your head and plastered a smile onto your face that didn’t fully meet your eyes. 

“Maya, go tell Mor her sister is here, I’ll meet you inside” She raked her eyes up your and down your full body with such subtle brutality before kissing Azriel’s cheek goodbye, sauntering up the path to the house. 

“She seems nic-”

“She is” He almost bit, his eyes felt like daggers on your skin.

“I-”

“-What are you doing here YN?” his tone matched his eyes.

“I just came for the funeral”

“And now what?”

“I’m meeting Mor and then heading to our old place to stay” “And then?” “Then, I’m heading back to the continent” You weren't sure why you were answering, you suppose you owed him that much, the heat of his eyes making you feel vulnerable.

“I heard your writing is doing pretty well there, pretty well everywhere”

“Yeah”

“Hope it was worth it YN” Words like fire burning you all over, and yet you felt you deserved worse. He sighed when you didn't respond before pushing past you, following the path Maya had just trotted up.

“It wasn't," you said the words before you knew what you were saying, back towards him before looking over your shoulder, now fully meeting his eyes. He looked as though he was going to say something but Mor came flying out her front door.

“Sorry I'm late YN I was- oh, sorry am I interrupting something?”

“No Mor, I was just leaving” and then he did. Gone again.  

“How did that go?” Mor looped her arm through yours, prying you from leaning on the wall to head down the street again.

“Fine” you tried a smile and failed.

“You met Maya”

“Always one for sensitivity Mor” You smiled at your sister and she was instant apologies.

“I’m sorry, I forgot they were coming over tonight… Maya isn't anything like you if that helps. He went a bit off the walls when you left. Cassian thinks he's going to propose to that tonight, hope he's all wrong. He's totally settling especially since Rhys and Cass have their mates now. She's nothing like you and I think he knows that, just ignoring it. It's kinda sad and- oh hey YN I didn't mean to make you cry” she said the words like throwaway gossip, forgetting her audience only to have your rising tears land her back to earth. 

“No no it's okay Mor, I'm just going to go home”

“Aw come on, I'm sorry!” you stopped on the path, her soft eyes giving you no comfort. 

“Not as sorry as I am Mor” You took off then, in the direction of your old shared house.

-

You lay in your bed, rain threatening to come through the slate roof. Tossing and turning you finally decided to get up and wander your old house you had with Mor before meeting Azriel. Looking in drawers filled with old pictures, ones of you when you were a kid, playing with the Mor. More recent ones of you with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel,  Azriels arm draped around you. You ran your fingers over the tarnished picture, a tear dripping onto the film before you tucked it back into the worn drawer. 

You meandered through the living room, stopping at the old mahogany press. You knew what was in there and you didn't want to see it. Looking at that engagement ring again would be the end of you.

A loud banging came drumming against the door causing you to jump from the crushing thought. You wrapped the dressing gown tighter around yourself before opening the door to see the tormented, rain-soaked Illyrian before you. He waited for no invitation before blowing in past you, the cold leaking from him.

“I COULDN'T DO IT!”

“Do what Azriel?! What's wrong?!”

“I couldn't ask Maya to marry me! There's fucking caution tape around my heart because of you! I would have been fine if you had just left me alone to wallow in anger all those years ago I would have been fine! But No! I just had to fuck around and get attached to you!” He threw his arms in the air, words hot with anger. 

“You're blaming me for loving you?!” You found his words caused you your own irritation.

“Yeah! Yeah I am! You just had to pay attention to me! You just had to care about me! You just had to-”

“Had to what?! Had to love you!” you couldn’t believe you snapped out the words as they floated to his ears. 

“YEAH! AND YOU JUST HAD TO LEAVE ME!” Knives to your mind would have been less painful, he almost rattled in anger, a mere metre away from you, his shadows vibrating at his feet in anger. 

“I had to leave Azriel I wasn't ready!”

“YOU COULDN'T HAVE SAID THAT TO MY FACE!? BECAUSE YOU COULD HAVE! ANYTHING WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER THAN STANDING UP ON THAT FUCKING ALTER WAITING FOR YOU!” his arms raised in the air with his words, causing you to flinch slightly. 

“Azriel-”

“When we were together what was the thing you always said to me?! It was that you wouldn't leave me, that you wouldn't abandon me like everyone else. YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T AND YOU FUCKING DID!”

“I know Az I know” you were crying now, throwing yourself back on the couch, floods of memories of those very conversations threatening to drown you.

“You know?! Then why did you do it! The truth!”

“Elena came to me before the wedding and said all this stuff about what a wife should do and be and how I wasn't going to have time to write anymore and all the kids would be left to me and I wasn't ready! I WASN'T READY FOR THAT KIND OF PRESSURE THE ILLYRIANS WERE PUSHING ON ME!”

“YEAH! THE ILLYRIANS NOT ME! I NEVER EVER SAID ANYTHING LIKE THAT! NEVER EVEN THOUGHT IT!” you buried your head in your hands at his shouting, the action sending a ping of regret through Azriel but the repressed rage he felt towards you had to get out.

“You hurt me YN YLN. The wedding bells were just alarms to you”

“I don't know what to say but I want you to know that I understand that you hate me, I'll leave tomorrow, Ill go!” you swept the tears from your face, feeling you didn’t deserve to have them, the maker behind this mess.

“I missed you” his words completely caught you off guard as you brought yourself to look at him once again, his wild wrathful eyes replaced by utterly heartbroken ones.

“I miss you and I shouldn't. I can't move on from you! I haven't slept properly since you left! Every damn night it's a new nightmare and then I wake up and you're not there like you used to be and it's a different kind of nightmare! I miss you being there next to me at the dinner table, at Rita’s, at stupid fucking court functions, just doing absolutely fuck all with you! The number of times I thought about contacting you, visiting you, the amount of letters I wrote and never sent-” It was the first time he hadn't had a raised voice since he came into the house but being faced with the fallout of your actions in his ice tone made you miss the screaming to some degree.

“I'M SORRY! I AM WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY!” you found yourself shouting back, anything to deafen your inner voice.

“Do you miss me?” his icy tone melted slightly at your unfamiliar raised voice.

“Yes” you stood again from the sofa. 

“I'm with Maya”

“I know”

“But she's not you”

“No”

“I hate you YN" The words hurt every inch of your body, every cell felt searing unwavering pain, the sentence you never thought you’d hear him say. The familiar feeling of your lungs being strangled beat in your chest, unable to recover from the mortal wound.  You did what you did best and ran, out the door and into the rain-soaked Velarian streets.

“YN stop!” he followed you quickly as you made it halfway down the street, he would not have you slip from him again.

“No! I hurt you! I broke you and myself in the process all for selfish reasons and I still love you Azriel!” you went to run again but his firm hand on your forearm stopped you, spinning you to face him as his wild face dripped in rain.

“I hate that I love you YN”

“What?” you said softly over the thundering rain. Azriel looked from your face to over your shoulder. You turned to follow his eyes down the street, the plot of land haunting the other side of the Sidra.

“You ever wonder what we could have been? We were supposed to live there after we got married, we'd probably have kids and all now” his tone had softened at the sight of the overgrown plot.

“Yeah, we probably would” You stood next to him looking at the patch of home, you gave a weak smile.

“But you might not have your successful career”

“I'd have you, that would be worth more”

“You don't mean that YN”

“I do” he turned to completely face you then.

“Never thought I'd hear you say those words” You bit your lip and you could have sworn Azriel fought a slight smile at your discomfort.

“You should go propose to Maya -” Your mouth was betraying your heart “- And I should leave and live the life I chose because I can't be around the life I should be living”

“Do you think you'd want to live it if I gave you the choice now?” his eyes searched yours, fully softening for the first time since he landed on the doorstep. 

“I do”

“Yn I hate you and I love you but mostly I just hate that I love you” He felt no longer in control of his urges, leaning into you as he took hold of your soaked hips and leaned down to kiss swirls of what should have been and what could have taking you both over.

15 years later.

You lay down in the sun of the wildflower garden, your eyes took rest in the warm glow of the sun, taking a moment of rest after months of traveling with your new novel. 

“ARGH!” You shrieked at the rush of cold water soaking you down to your skin. 

“Azriel!” you bolted from where you lay, chasing your husband who clutched the hose down the length of the garden, only to be stopped dead by his sudden decrease in velocity. 

“Big mistake YNN” You looked at him puzzled only to hear the roaring laughter of your two children launch out of the hedges and armed with water balloons that they doused you with, gaining more screams of pure unadulterated joy. You collapsed to the grass as they overwhelmed you with their hysterics, climbing all over you, Azriel watching on so lovingly, so whole.

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I promise the next fic will be more silly goofy! Let me know what you think!

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel fic #cassian #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar fluff #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #sarah j maas #fanfic #azriel angst #azriel acosf #angst with a happy ending #angst

[nyoomfruits]

we have to wait TWO MONTHS for the wag au?????? sneak peak pls <3

FINE you drive a hard bargain

“See, but I think, if we can get the balance right on the rear wing, and then somehow find the grip, we should be fine, actually. Daniel said his car had much better grip already, compared to the last race, so clearly we just need to do what they did to his car but then more,” Lando says, waving his hands around as he speaks. “I mean, I don’t know if we can fix it between now and Quali tomorrow, but like, it’s a start, right?”

Oscar, who’s sitting across from him in a tiny little restaurant tucked away in a small Italian village near Monza, smiles softly at him. “Right, yeah. Or, you can just do whatever they did to Max’s car, and then you can start winning championships.”

“Oh haha,” Lando says, rolls his eyes, throws a bit of bread from the bread basket in front of them at him. Oscar laughs and catches it effortlessly. “You know what I mean. Like I don’t know what they did to Daniel’s car exactly, but the engineers do. I think. I hope.” Oscar’s clearly trying to hold back a laugh. Lando pouts at him. “Whatever. Hey, do you want to share a plate of spaghetti? We can like, Lady and the Tramp it.”

“I’m not Lady and the Tramp-ing a plate of spaghetti with you,” Oscar says, opening his own menu. “Besides, I was kind of feeling pizza?”

“Okay, so you hate me,” Lando says, nodding. “Cool. Wish you would’ve just told me. This is just cruel.”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Jon’s not letting you have pizza, huh.”

Lando nods despairingly and lets his head flop down on the table. “Jon hates me, too.”

“Tell you what,” Oscar says. “If you promise me I won’t have to Lady and the Tramp your spaghetti with you, I’ll let you have a bite of pizza.”

Lando perks up. “Two bites.”

“One,” Oscar says. “Or Jon will hate me, too.”

“Hm, okay, so you care more about what Jon thinks of you than me, your loving and caring boyfriend.”

“Yes,” Oscar says, without hesitation. “Now, yes or no.”

“Fine,” Lando says, sighing dramatically. “One bite.”

--

[Blurry picture of Oscar in an Italian restaurant. He has a piece of spaghetti in his mouth that leads somewhere off camera, and the look on his face is a mix between exasperated and fond]

landonorris the lady to my tramp (plus he let me have THREE bites of pizza. a real keeper. don’t tell jon)

liked by mclaren and 1.578 others

danielricciardo telling jon as we speak

                landonorris 🥺

norriswdc me and who

fastboys oh please they’re so cute😭

#landoscar #wag au #you love me (but you don't know it yet)

[yoonivy]

gold rush; part 4.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by 10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. smut!! dirty talk, cunnilingus, fingering.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

---

With exam season in the horizon, it has you and Aemond staying at the university’s library until the most ungodly hours for the past week. 

Tonight, the two of you end up leaving campus a little bit past midnight, luckily narrowly missing the beginning of the snowstorm on the drive back to your place. By the time you get inside your empty apartment, the flurry of snow outside the windows completely obstructs the view and the strong winds are loud as they whistle and shake the glass. It’s horrid. 

“That’s it! I’m deleting the weather app off my phone!” You declare, throwing your hands up. You turn to your boyfriend, looking incredulous. “How did it not predict a freaking snowstorm?!”

Aemond shrugs. “I have no idea… even the news this morning said it was coming tomorrow afternoon.”

He is by your front door, his long black wool coat on and leather gloves hands clasped together behind his back. Before you can ask him why he is still standing there, he gives you a warm smile as he says, “I should get going then. Before it gets worse.”

Your mouth drops in offense, hips swinging out as you place your hand on it.  “Do you really think I’m going to let you drive home when there’s a literal Apocalypse happening ?” Your head shakes defiantly, taking a few steps towards Aemond. “No! you’re staying over tonight!”

Aemond hesitates, body turning towards the door then back at you. “Are you sure? I can still make it back home if I leave now…” he glances around, clearing his throat, “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable since it’s just us here.”

This leaves you slightly stunned. 

Is this why he hasn’t stayed over before? For your comfort? There’s so many nights when he stayed at your place way past midnight but still went back home to sleep even though he was dead tired and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out why. Until now. 

Always such a gentleman. 

Gods, if he only knew all the thoughts you have been having about him. 

You huff out with a grin and a playful roll of your eyes, walking to him. When you reach him, you grab his arm and pull him away from the door. 

“Yes, I’m sure…” you say as you open the hallway closet, gesturing for him to give you his coat while he first peels off his gloves. You take his coat when he shrugs it off, and you hang it in the closet along with yours. 

“But thank you —” You glance back over your shoulder, just realizing how close Aemond is hovering behind you. His warmth and the intoxicating scent of his amber and saffron cologne sends a shiver down your spine.

When you shut the closet door, you turn towards him just as Aemond takes a step towards you, his chest nearly brushing against yours. You let out a soft gasp, staggering back, your back and palms pressing against the door behind you. Peering up at him through your lashes, you breathe out, voice light and airy, “— for thinking about me.”

Illuminated under the hallway light, he is so pretty, looking down at you with open fondness which has your breath hitching.

You could barely think. 

“You’re sweet,” you tell him with a strained smile. 

But you know the look in your eyes is not as sweet or innocent. It’s something far hungrier. 

You wet your lips as you think about him and how you want him — have wanted him for the past few weeks. Visions of him pressing you against the wall and his mouth on your neck, his always perfectly in place hair a mess from your fingers carding through it, his toned chest slick with sweat, his roughened voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear…

Unbeknownst to you, he follows the slow movement of your tongue before his darkened gaze drifts up to your eyes again. 

Stop, you scold yourself as you shake away the dirty thoughts. You quickly duck around him to create some space between the two of you, saying something about making tea as an excuse.

Maybe the reason Aemond hasn’t been staying over is not only for your comfort but for his own as well. Here he was thinking about you with care and you hadn’t even thought about how he feels about taking the next step. 

Sure the two of you made out heavily plenty of times before (and you felt him hard beneath you each time) but that doesn’t mean that he without a doubt wants to have sex with you. Guys have boundaries too!

“What did the kettle do to you?”

You glance away from the electric kettle to look at Aemond who had leaned his back coolly onto the counter just beside where you’re standing, his arms crossing against his chest. You must have looked confused because he reaches out to press his thumb gently between your brows. At the touch, you ease the tension there you hadn’t noticed. Oh, you had been glaring while deep in thought. 

But then you look over at Aemond again and there’s that teasing smirk on his lips that has you tingling between your thighs. It’s absurdly unfair how just one look from him has you going absolutely wild for him. 

“It wasn’t boiling fast enough!” You exclaim with a laugh (perhaps a little too loud and definitely sounding quite nervous) and you abruptly stop to focus on making the tea (and to stop thinking about his mouth on yours and everywhere else on your body). 

In your mug, you make your tea how you like it. In his, you stir in one teaspoon of honey and a little bit of cream — just like how he likes it. 

He murmurs his thank you with a sweet kiss on your lips and an even sweeter smile meant just for you. 

After that, the two of you settle at the kitchen table to wind down. 

Half an hour passed by and the tea had gone cold. Aemond was talking about something he had learned from a podcast and you were only half listening, staring at his hands. He has such pretty hands…

You want them all over you. On your hips, your thighs, your ass, around your neck, in between…

You just want him so bad… but you promise that you will keep your hands to yourself. 

“What was that?”

Eyes widening comically, you sputter out dumbly, “Huh?”

Did you say that out loud?!

Yeah, you’re pretty sure you did. 

But luckily, you’re used to making a fool out of yourself and so you are able to brush it off. 

“I didn’t say anything,” you say, pretty cool and casually if you do say so yourself. Standing up calmly, you collect your mugs, shrugging at him, “Must have been the winds outside?”

“Yeah…” Aemond lifts a brow, sounding unsure but also looking amused. “Must have been…”

Damn it. Facing away from his scrutiny, you rinse off the dishes while your expression squeezes with embarrassment. He totally heard what you said. 

Thankfully Aemond doesn’t push it any further and you are able to wash the dishes without any more embarrassment. 

While you finish cleaning up, you hear Aemond yawning from where he had sat down on the couch. 

“Sleepy?” You ask when you join him, his arm wrapping around you as you tuck both your feet up and press your whole body onto his side. 

He hums, nodding. His smile soft and tired. It is such a lovely sight and it makes you lean into him, pressing your lips on his. This man is stupidly irresistible and you’ve never felt like this for anyone ever before. You’re starting to just accept it.

What’s the harm? 

A broken heart in the future, maybe? But for some inexplicable reason, you trust him not to break your heart. 

Gods, if younger you heard you now… Trusting a man with your heart? And Aemond Targaryen on top of that?!

She’d have your head cause clearly you aren’t using it!

But you’re happy, and you think she’ll be forgiving for that fact alone. That’s all you and her ever wanted — to be happy. 

And Aemond definitely makes you happy. 

Smiling to yourself, you kiss him one last time before you stand up, stretching and yawning. “We should go to bed then.”

Aemond nods, but he stays sitting on the couch even though you’ve already started to walk towards your bedroom. You stop to look back at him, “Are you going to sit there all night or…?”

Aemond sits up straighter, stiff and alert. 

“I…” he takes a hard swallow, “ I thought I’d be sleeping on the couch.”

Your mouth parts in an audible oh… for a couple long seconds. 

“My bed is big enough for the both of us,” you tell him. After a beat, heat starts to rise up to your cheeks.  Did you sound too desperate? You’re not sure but to make sure you didn’t, you quickly add, “But if you want to stay on the —“

“No, no—!”  Aemond springs up, his foot snagging into the rug causing him to stumble slightly. But he is fast to recover, walking to you, “Your bed is fine!”

It’s not often you see Aemond flustered but it’s a sight you welcome. It’s cute. You’d tease him if you weren’t also as flustered as he is. 

“Do you wanna use the bathroom first or should I?” You ask him when you reach your room, grabbing some sleep clothes from the drawer. 

“You go ahead,” Aemond offers, sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll be right back then… make yourself comfortable!”

Aemond nods right back, then awkwardly pats the bedding a bit and squirms on his spot, looking satisfied right after. It bubbles a laugh out of you. A small smile is shared between the two of you before you head to the bathroom. 

You take a quick shower, opting to use your nicest smelling body wash and also shaved a bit — for no reason at all. You brush your teeth before leaving out the extra toothbrush you got from your last dentist visit and a clean towel for Aemond to use. 

“Your turn!” You let Aemond know with a big grin as soon as you enter your room. On the top of your dresser, you grab your moisturizer and you begin to apply it in front of the mirror while you tell him, “I left out an extra toothbrush and towel for you in the bathroom and you can use whatever you want!”

He doesn’t answer right away, so you look away from your reflection while dabbing on eye cream and find him just sitting there, lost in gazing at you. Again with that look that has butterflies fluttering like crazy in your stomach. 

You say his name softly and that was enough to snap him out of his trance. He chuckles to himself and stands up, “Sorry, I’ll get going now.”

He walks towards the door but just when he is about to step out, he stops, grabs a hand onto the door frame

as he turns to look back at you. 

“What?” You question, lips spreading in a flustered grin. 

Aemond shakes his head. “It’s nothing… I just…” trailing off, he glances at you from underneath his pretty long lashes, smile so genuine when he says, “You’re breathtaking… I just needed to tell you.”

And then he taps the door with his palm and leaves just like that, leaving you dumbfounded and flushed, mouth gaping open. 

“Thank you,” you murmur out loud to the empty room, your mind finally getting caught up. Your cheeks are hot when you press your hands on it, round and tight from smiling too much. 

It has you on autopilot, just thinking about Aemond while you do the rest of your night routine. You turn off the lights in your room, leaving only the lamp on your bedside table to cast a soft golden glow just beside your bed, then you slip under the covers to get comfortable and think about him some more. 

How did you get so lucky to call Aemond your boyfriend?

Not only is he so incredibly intelligent, he is also so passionate about so many different things. You’re always learning something new when you are with him. And it may seem that he is a serious type A kind of person, but he can be so funny in his own way. On top of all that, he is pretty good looking… 

Fine! He is gorgeous — sometimes it makes you so mad how handsome he is! Like his features don't compute in your head? How can someone just look like that?!

…and he thinks you’re breathtaking?

You giggle to yourself, tucking your chin just above the edge of the comforter, feet kicking underneath. 

In the middle of your daydreaming (and almost falling asleep), Aemond walks back in your room, scrubbing his long and damp hair with his towel to dry and… is still wearing the clothes he was wearing all day?!

You shoot up, awoken by the realization that you stupidly forgot to get Aemond something to wear to sleep.

“Oh shit! Sorry, Aemond!” You say, pushing back the blanket away from your body. “I have a few shirts that might fit you — or I’m sure Jon wouldn’t mind if you borrow his clothes —“

Aemond shakes his head. “It’s fine. I was actually gonna ask you if you’re okay with me sleeping with just my boxers. I run pretty hot because of my blood—“ even in the dimness of the room, Aemond notice your sudden look of alarm, and quickly adds, “but if you’re not alright with it, then—“

“No! You’re good! It’s good!” You say, a little too eagerly. Then trying to seem more nonchalant (though not really working from the way your voice wavers) you tell him, “If you’re, like, more comfortable that way then yeah that’s cool or whatever…”

“Cool,” he repeats after you, grinning bashfully as he glances down to where he is wringing his hands into the towel he is holding then back up into your eyes. 

There is a playful light on his violet eye that he keeps on you, and you can’t bring yourself to look away as he steps further into the room, coolly tossing his wet towel in the hamper by the door. You tuck yourself back under the blanket, trying to get comfortable again but your whole body is vibrating from anticipation, too keyed up. 

As your eyes adjust to the low light and wanders around your very familiar room, you try not to stare. But when Aemond starts to tug at the back of his t-shirt to pull it off in that strange way guys do, and the hem lifts to show off that glorious v-line of his and then that lean stomach and softly defined abs that is prettily illuminated by the golden glow of the lamp — it was over for you. It’s absolutely magnetic, the way he can always pull your attention towards him. You’re not even one of those people who really care about the nakedness of hot guys (Do you know how many times Robb and Jon walk around shirtless all the time during the summer? The answer is all the freaking time!) but of course it’s different when it’s Aemond.

If you had half a mind right now, you’d remind yourself to get a hold of yourself and stop acting like a complete lustsick fool. Like it’s so embarrassing how you bite down your plush bottom lip while you watch as Aemond’s lithe fingers make their way to the button of his fitted black pants. 

Of course none of that is at the forefront of your mind when he begins to pull his pants down, letting you have an eyeful of the prominent bulge in the front of his black boxer briefs, causing you to take a hard swallow. You’re not even sure if he is hard or if that’s just how big he is while flaccid. What do people say? That tall and skinny guys usually have huge d—

It’s Aemond clearing his throat that pulls you away from finishing your thought, quickly meeting his wicked gaze as you burn up from being caught shamelessly (well technically now, shamefully ) ogling. There’s a smirk playing on his lips, fully knowing what has you so flustered. So he makes a show of it, dragging his pants down so steadily. His milky thighs are slender yet nicely defined and so smooth looking; all the while, you feel a throbbing between your own thighs—

Hiding swiftly under the blanket, you muffle a frustrated groan. 

It earns you a chuckle out of him. The bastard. He clearly enjoys watching you squirm over him. 

Then the bed dips and you feel something press over the blanket where your hip is, making your whole body shiver. A second later, right by your covered ear, you hear a sultry murmur of, “You’re cute.”

Pulling the blanket back, you whip to face him with the most defiant (and in Aemond’s opinion — the most adorable) glare that you could muster. There’s still that smirk on his face, like a cat who got the cream. 

You sit up, about to give him a piece of your mind. Though before you can say anything, he surprises you with a quick kiss on your slightly parted lips. He chuckles at your stunned expression, caressing your cheek for a long second. His hand is soft and warm against your face, and his gaze is too, searching your own with a crease between his brows. In this darkened room, the color of his eye looks like a deep indigo, as deep as the ocean, so inviting that they seem to beckon you closer, to dive into them. 

So you lean towards him, your mouth a breadths away from Aemond’s, his voice is low and light as he murmurs, “Is it alright if I say… I don’t want you to keep your hands off of me?”

Once again, he takes you by surprise. As blunt and to the point Aemond is, it was not often an affectionate bluntness. You like seeing this new side of him. It makes you realize how much closer the two of you are getting. That he is more comfortable around you now — he jokes around, he tells you the thoughts running around his mind, and he is opening up to you more and more every single day. 

Aemond has really become one of your best friends, someone you are not afraid and don’t mind giving your all to. That has you gleeful, has your heart racing with delight at the revelation. 

As soon as you shake your head gently as an answer, Aemond’s smile gets a little bit wider. Then, he is closing the space between the two of you once again. 

Melting. You feel like you are melting into him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

With his hand sliding from your face to cradle the back of your head, he pulls you into a deeper kiss, his tongue slipping between the seam of your lips. You moan, letting him in as your mouth parts, your head tilting to the side for more. 

Without parting from each other, you move to perch up on his lap, your legs bracketing around his waist. One of his hands grips your thigh, while the other slides under your shirt. You shiver in delight at the feeling of his warm hand on your skin, leaving goosebumps in its trail, until he reaches the underside of your breast. Aemond smirks against your lips, teasing, as his thumb brushes around your nipple. Mewling his name, you could not help but grind down on him, the little bud hardening from his touch.

Breaking away from your heated kiss, Aemond softly asks and gestures if he could take off your shirt. You allow him to, lifting up your arms to help him with the task. Once he pulls it off in one fluid motion, Aemond's hazy gaze wanders all over you in wonderment as he murmurs, a little breathless, “You’re breathtaking…”

You did not feel embarrassed at all from his staring. If anything, you feel more confident by how beautiful he is making you feel. 

Caressing his face as you look into his eye, you bite down your bottom lip, trying to suppress a giddy giggle. With your thumb running across his prominent cheek bone, you remind him full of mirth, “You’ve already told me that tonight, silly. ”

Aemond laughs lightly when you playfully flick at his nose. “And I’ll keep telling you over and over again, because it’s true.”

Then his eager mouth and hands are all over you again. Aemond cannot get enough of you. And by the way your hips are moving against him — picking up in speed and every grind down more overzealous than the last — you cannot get enough of him too. 

Aemond groans – a low throaty sound that is like music in your ears – when your hands find their way in his hair, pulling a bit harder than you had intended to. The clash of your mouths becomes more desperate, and Aemond slips up, accidently pressing his lips just slightly under the far corner of your mouth. But the mistake doesn’t deter Aemond at all. His mouth finds a path along your jaw and down your neck, marking you up with every suck and bite of his teeth on your tender skin. 

Eyes closing, you arch your back into him, your mind clouding up deliriously. Aemond starts to lay you down gently when his lips move to press wet open-mouthed kisses on your chest. As your head hits the pillow, that’s when his lips close around the nipple that he had not been playing with earlier, like he remembered it had been neglected. His tongue swirls, and your mouth falls open in a pathetic little whine. Immediately, your hand comes up in a fist for you to bite down on a knuckle to stop the embarrassing sounds from freely coming out, every mewl and moan muffled now. 

That stops Aemond, pulling off with a wet pop. A rather displeased Aemond is the first thing you see when you take a chance to glance down. His hand closes around your wrist gently, pulling it away from your face. “Baby, don’t do that. I want to hear you.”

Whimpering, you nod in understanding. “Please, Aemond. Need more…”

Your boyfriend hums, satisfied. 

Aemond bends down over you again, though this time he leaves your chest alone, choosing instead to lavish his tongue between your sternum then down, down, down…

You lift your hips up to allow him to pull off your sleep shorts. 

“So pretty…” Aemond murmurs reverently, lightly fingering the tiny pink bow at the front of your tight cotton panties. His knuckles then brush over where it’s truly damp, heat radiating from your core. He grins wolfishly after leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs that has your cunt throbbing with desire, glancing up to watch your face while you squirm. “Cute.”

“Shut u—” your indignant mutter gets cut off by your own surprised squeak, your body jerking at the sensation of a wet tongue spreading over the cloth where the seam of your pussy is.

The view between your thighs is one you will never, ever forget. It will be seared into your memories forever. Because how could you ever forget the sight of the Aemond Targaryen worshiping you as if the altar is your hips, and your cunt is his only salvation. 

Aemond tries to press down your hip to keep you from moving, but you are too pent up and desperate, your fingers once again treading through his hair, gripping tight as you ride his face. Seeking your pleasure with every swipe of his unhurried tongue. So instead, he snakes his arm under your thigh to spread you out further apart for him to comfortably lay between your legs. 

Soon, you begin to feel your peak building up, getting closer and closer to coming undone. You don’t even know how Aemond is doing this. It usually takes you forever to come, and penetration was almost always necessary. But here he was, just mouthing at your pussy from over your underwear and you are electrified with ecstasy. 

Sure enough, you come like that. An overwhelming feeling washing over you that has you chanting Aemond’s name with every languid swipe of his tongue and nudge of his gorgeous nose against your small bundle of nerves. 

Aemond’s hips thrust against the bed at the sound of your pretty moans and the honeyed taste of you on his tongue. Now, even more than ever, he is determined to give you every pleasure in the world.

“Another one,” Aemond commands breathily before you even come down from your high, placing a kiss over your clit. He doesn’t even bother to take your underwear off, pushing it to the side to slide his fingers inside you to spread you open while he slowly starts to eat you out again like a man still starved. 

“Taste so divine,” Aemond can’t help but comment, dragging his wet tongue from the bottom of your slit all the way up to your clit. 

“Ae— please — just like that!” The words tight and needy in your throat, getting close again.

“Anything you want, love,” Aemond promises, focusing now on driving his two digits deeper and deeper inside your tight heat. “Just keep making those pretty noises for me.”

You do exactly that. Every flick of his wrist drags out the most pathetic little noises out of you.

Then he curls his fingers just right and presses into that particular spot inside while sucking on your clit. You suck in a stuttering gasp as your whole body shudders, your back arching off the bed as you flood his mouth with another sweet release. Aemond moans along with you, like your pleasure is also his.

Aemond laps through your slick folds, humming in delight while he does so. He cannot get enough. It drags your orgasm out until you are a shivering mess and trying to push him away from oversensitivity. 

He relents, pulling away from your core to drop butterfly kisses along your legs while he pulls your panties off. 

Once the climax begins to subside, you reach out for your boyfriend, needing him close. After a few affectionate kisses against your ankle and knee, Aemond crawls up, capturing your mouth with his own while your arms wrap around his shoulders in an amorous embrace. 

Aemond kisses you like he has something to prove. It is all consuming. Like you are his, and he won’t let you forget it. 

You don’t think you ever will. 

Every fiery and passionate clash of his mouth over yours has you craving for more. When eventually—

“There’s condoms— in — mmm — drawer,” you let him know even though his mouth is barely lifting off yours, his teeth biting at your already swollen lip. 

Aemond hums, parting away so you can roll over towards the drawer in question. You sit up once you have the small, unopened package in your hands. 

(In your head, you thank Meera. She was the one who threw the 10-pack large sized box of condoms in your basket a week ago during your grocery date together. With a wink and a snicker she had whispered, just in case. You had rolled your eyes back then but now… Maybe the myth she had told while high off her mind about her family’s gift of foresight wasn’t such a myth after all.)

Glancing back over your shoulder, you catch sight of Aemond pulling down his underwear, getting an eyeful of what your boyfriend is packing. 

By the Gods… He is big . Pretty too — milky pink head, mouthwatering veins running along his long shaft, curved just right.

You want him so bad. 

Turning away, you quickly attempt to open the condom package, an unsatiated need now driving your every move. Perhaps your nails are not sharp enough, or maybe it’s because your hands are shaking too much, but the cardboard is stubborn and won’t rip open. 

You feel Aemond come up behind you, the heat of his chest on your back, watching your struggle. After another try with no luck, you confess with a bashful laugh, “You’re making me nervous.” 

“Am I really? Can’t even open a box because of me? That’s adorable ,” Aemond teases, which earns him a glare with no heat from you. He chuckles, an endeared smile tilting his lips. A tender kiss is placed on your shoulder before his large and graceful hands encompassing your own. 

“Here. Let me,” he murmurs softly, taking over the task. Since Aemond is perfect and can do anything and everything, he opens the box easily, ripping out a packet without much effort. 

You huff and roll your eyes playfully, and he just laughs, pulling at your waist to roll you over again and under him. He kisses you for a few long seconds before he sits up.

Breath held in anticipation, you gaze up at your pretty boyfriend, ripping the condom with his teeth. Without putting it on yet, he pumps his hard cock a couple times — spreading the pre leaking from the tip along the shaft — sweat glistening his heaving chest while he looks down at you.  “Are you sure?” 

There is an aching desire in you, amplified by his lascivious stare. Nodding, you use your elbow to lift yourself up, your hands wrapping over his, stroking his cock together. 

“I’m sure,” you tell him, fluttering your lashes prettily up at him. Aemond groans out your name as you lean forward to kiss the vein on the underside of his length. 

After that, neither of you can wait another second longer. Together, you put the condom on Aemond and he wastes no time gently laying you down again, getting into a comfortable position between your open legs while tenderly kissing all over your face and down your neck, his fingers slipping into your folds to spread you open for him again. He then takes a hold of his cock, angling his hips just right to slip himself inside you.

Aemond exhales out your name, sounding a lot like a satisfied sigh. His eye is squeezed shut, face twisted in delicious pleasure. “I can’t believe— You, fuck — you feel so amazing.”

Every inch of him has you wincing slightly. It wasn’t a bad pain, but you just aren’t used to taking anything of his size. Aemond notices this, and slows down to a halt, only half way in. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, concerned. “Should I stop?”

Shaking your head, you reach up to caress his cheek. “No, don’t stop. Just… Just slow down a bit. I’m just not used to taking anything so… big.” 

Aemond’s eyebrow rising in surprise, chest puffing out while looking proud and smug. You refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Don’t let that go to your head. It’s big enough already.”

“Which one?” He jokes, cheeky and so quick with it that you scowl (yet still endeared). He ducks down, chuckling into your neck. 

“You can be so insufferable, sometimes,” you let him know, smiling into his hair. 

“I know,” he agrees, moving his head to peer down at you. “And you’re lovely. Always.”

There is no teasing left in his tone. It was a sincere confession, heartfelt and true.

Then he captures your mouth with a toe curling kiss. Your heart is swelling, your tummy full of butterflies.

The little intermission allowed you to adjust to his size, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth, and after letting him know, Aemond starts to move again. 

The way he moves his hips is intoxicating. Every drag of his cock has you mewling — voice high and breathless. Looking down at where the two of you meet, Aemond whispers filthy praises for you.

Your little pussy takes me so well. You sound so sweet when you’re full of my cock. 

He presses your thighs against your chest, allowing him to grind into you nice and deep. When he bottoms out, you swear you can taste heaven.

“Do you like this?” Aemond coos, loving the way your nails bite lines down his back, and his own digs bruisingly into your supple thighs. “Does it feel good when I fuck you like this?”

You could not even answer. The sensation all of the sudden becomes too overwhelming.  

With tears in your eyes, you come again with a sweet cry of his name, your hand twisting at the sheets beneath you and the other in his hair as your body jerks with multiple euphoric rushes. Aemond picks up the pace, chasing his own high as your pussy pulses deliciously around him. You juices coating him liberally, dripping down his shaft with every thrust. Your cunt is so inviting — so tight and hot and unlike anything he has ever felt before.

“You’re so good…” Aemond murmurs against the shell of your ear hoarsely. “Such a good girl for me. Gonna make me—“

Aemond comes with a long, broken and throaty groan; burying himself into the deepest part of you as he shoots his load into the condom. His hips twitch, grinding the head of his cock deep inside you as he expels the last of his energy into his climax. 

Exhausted, he falls into you, his mouth going over yours again and again and again. He smiles when your arms wrap around him, putting your all into the passionate kiss. 

Aemond never wants to be apart from you. He wants to stay there, cock buried in your soft warmth, forever. 

He can’t help it. Being with you feels just right. 

This is where he is meant to be. 

A blinding light is what wakes Aemond up the next morning. 

He grunt in annoyance, hiding his face into the pillow— until he remembers, the sweet smell of you igniting his senses. 

The sun is out in full force after the snowstorm, casting its rays in through the window, and yet when he looks down to where you are still soundly asleep in his arms, your pretty face smushed against his chest — you are the one that is lighting up the room and bringing him warmth.

Aemond has never seen anything as bright and as beautifully brilliant as you. 

Golden , Aemond thinks, nuzzling his face into your hair, his sleepy smile pressing against the crown of your head. 

You’re golden. The only precious thing he will ever want and ever need. 

He is sure of that now. No amount of money in the world could ever replace you. 

His golden girl. 

It is the last thought Aemond has before his eyelid flutters close and he slowly falls back into peaceful sleep, his arms pulling you closer to him. So close that not a soul could tell where Aemond ends and where you begin. 

a.t. 💗 🎵 treacherous (taylor’s version) · taylor swift

---

It was supposed to be a good night. A fun night. 

The bar where your friends decided to go was a favorite of your group; they played good music, the nacho plate was huge and tasty, and every shot with the dirty names was only a dollar each. 

The dollar shots being the most important since you were also meeting Aemond’s best friend Alys Rivers for the first time. She’s great, you think, and she can keep up with your rowdy friends more than Aemond can. Maybe that’s why she’s hitting it off with Meera so well. 

But somewhere along the laughter and the million shots and the grinding on your best girl friends (a little bit on Alys too), your dumb ass decides to check your phone. 

That’s when you read through the latest email in your inbox and your whole night comes crashing down. 

You attempt to brush it off, put off the emotions threatening to bubble up until the morning and just enjoy the evening out with your friends. 

You laugh and smile through the hurt and disappointment, blinking away the tears whenever they cloud your vision. It works for a while — until Aemond pulls you to the side, caging you against the wall with concern written on his face. 

“Are you alright? I’ve noticed you’ve been sort of out of it for a while…”

You nod tightly, forcing a smile. “Yeah! I’m good!”

Aemond searches your face, frowning deeper as he seems to find some discrepancy in what you said and the way your lips tremble.  

You blow out a raspberry, laughing as you drawl out, “ Babe , I’m fine … Honestly… !”

But when your name comes out his mouth in such a serious tone, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Hanging your head, you tell him with a small and wavering voice, “I lost the poetry contest… they just sent an email congratulating the winner.”

This wasn’t the first time you didn’t win a writing/poetry competition so it might just be the alcohol kicking in, because you are more emotional and upset than any other losses before. Or maybe you just really, really wanted this — you did put your heart and soul in the piece and it’s one you are truly proud of so the fact that it lost…

When you feel the tears coming, you quickly hide your face into Aemond’s chest. You feel him wrap his arms around you, pulling you close as he murmurs sweet and comforting words into your ear. While you keep crying, you also keep apologizing miserably to him for various reasons — staining his shirt with your makeup and snot and tears, ruining his night with your emotional breakdown, for accidentally ordering that really expensive dish on your date last week… Literally, apologize for everything and anything over and over again. 

Aemond just hushes you, rubbing his hand up and down your back. He manages to pull you into a secluded empty table away from prying eyes and flags down a waitress to get you water. You chug it down so fast while sobbing when you get it, as if to replenish all the tears you’ve cried. 

The sight of you like this absolutely devastates Aemond. His heart is breaking for you.

“What do you want to do?” Aemond asks, his voice as light as a feather, hand holding yours. “Do you want to stay or do you want me to take you home?”

Though you’re not crying anymore, you know you probably look like an absolute mess. Mascara running, swollen and red eyes, snotty nose, all the works. So after a slight hiccupy breath, you tell him, “ ‘wanna go home…”

“Of course,” Aemond presses a kiss against your forehead. “Anything you want.”

Before the two of you leave, you ask him to tell your friends that you’re leaving and tell them you’re just feeling a bit tired. You don’t want to inconvenience them and spoil their night out by making them worry about you. He does it quickly, not wanting to be away from you for too long, and in a matter of minutes, you and Aemond are on your way home in the back of a taxi. 

The taxi ride home was quiet save for the low volume of the jazz music that the taxi driver is playing and your occasional sniffling. You find comfort in playing with the rings on Aemond’s fingers, trying to just not think about the results of the competition. It works — until it doesn’t. Now instead of feeling sad about losing, you’ve taken the next step to just blaming yourself and how everything you write is terrible. 

By the time you stumble into your apartment, you are just feeling a bit resigned and a whole lot pessimistic. 

“Why did I even go back to school for this? I can’t even win a dumb magazine competition…” you grumble, throwing your winter coat on the closest available surface which happened to be the kitchen table. Aemond grabs it, hanging both your coat and his properly at a clothes hook on the wall beside the front door. As he unwraps his gray cashmere scarf from around his neck, he watches you drag your feet to the couch, crashing face first into a cushion, muffling a frustrated scream into it. 

Aemond sits down next to you, and when your face comes away from the cushion, there’s a shiteating grin on your face that takes him back. 

“Are you good…?” He asks cautiously, not knowing why you look fine all of the sudden. 

You shrug, laughing as you speak with your words slurring, “Kinda realized I'll be in debt forever because of this degree… it’s all good!”

A good boyfriend would have said something like ‘oh no babe, don’t think that way’ but in Aemond’s defense he is also sort of drunk and so what slips out of his mouth before his brain could process it is, “Isn’t my father paying for your tuition?”

It’s all his mother could talk about when you and him started college, how it doesn’t make sense that Viserys is paying the tuition of someone else’s kid. Aemond can recall himself agreeing with his mother and stepfather talking down on you, a bit bitter himself because the conditions of getting his father to pay for his schooling was pretty tough to achieve. He was made to believe that you just got it just cause — but knowing you now, he knows you probably worked as hard as he did. Not only that, the two of you might be equals when it comes to grades so his father must have held you at the same stipulations to getting tuition money as he did for Aemond and his siblings. 

Instead of getting mad or embarrassed at his question, you just tell him plainly, “Yeah, he is! But I’m still going to pay him back when I can!”

Confusion sets on Aemond’s face because… why?  Not once has he thought about paying back his father for anything… maybe you were under a different clause. 

“Did he ask you to pay him back?”

You shake your head. “No, but… I still feel bad for taking it! I’m already saving up the money to give back to him… look!”

Sloppily, you thrust your phone up for him to see, almost hitting his face. You apologize with a giggle and a whoops, sorry! but his curious eye is on your phone, absentmindedly saying it's alright. 

On the screen is your mobile banking app with all your chequing and savings accounts showing. Although you point out the savings account named Pay Back Viserys Savings which already had a little over 5k in it, he also can’t stop himself from scanning over the other accounts. There is an emergency savings account at 3k, a vacation account at 2k, and your chequing is at $341. Doing very quick math, Aemond can honestly say that he has 50 times more funds in just his chequing than all your accounts combined . You are definitely living paycheck to paycheck, but the fact that you have more money in your savings account to pay back his father than all your other accounts means you don’t know… His whole family thinks you know but it’s obvious to Aemond now that you don’t know .

A conflicted and uneasy feeling settles in the pit of his stomach — even more so when you scoot closer to him.

Shouldn’t he just come out with it now? Just tell you everything — the stupid plan, the expectation of him to see it through — and he’ll apologize over and over again like you did to him earlier this evening but this actually warrants an apology and more. He’ll be willing to grovel at your feet to forgive him. 

But Aemond decides to let the guilt eat him away for one more night. For your sake, he tells himself. You’ve already been through it enough today, you don’t need this on top of everything else.

Though to be honest, he is just being selfish. 

“You should rest,” he tells you gently, his hand on the back of your head and his mouth on your temple. “And it might not mean much but… I thought your poem was better than all the others.” 

“Okay…” You mumble sleepily, nuzzling your face into his chest and humming sweetly. “And that means a lot. You are like the most opinionated person I know… a connoisseur of taste… all indubitably and hmmm yes yes indeed , Mr. Posh pants.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Of course it is…!” you tell him as eagerly as you could in your groggy state, yawning cutely afterwards. 

It makes him laugh. Gods, you are always making him laugh. He doesn’t remember the last time he would spend the day always laughing and smiling with anyone else. It’s only when he is with you. 

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

Some time passes, and Aemond is convinced you must have fallen asleep. But all of the sudden, you lift your head to peer up at him with the most adorable look on your face. You look so… confuddled. 

“Aemond, have you…” you trail off, pressing your lips together, your hand coming up to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear that seemed to have distracted you. 

“Have I…?” He repeats to prompt you to continue, frowning with a tilt of his head while he mirrors you, also tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“ Have you… ” you drawl out again slowly, clearly still wasted by the way your eyes squint at him. “… ever dated a popstar?”

He balks at the question, sweating. “Uh… um… why?”

Who told you? His father? Aegon? 

He doesn’t know why it was such a big deal, it really wasn’t anything serious for him—

“Really?” You hum contemplatively. “Because I’m pretty sure Taylor Swift wrote Landin’ Boy about you —“ you smirk and poke at the center of his chest,“—you little cutie pie.”

Aemond lets out a sigh, relaxing once more, then huffs out a chuckle.

“You’re ridiculous,” he scoffs, but he can’t help but smile. You have him rumbling from deep down his throat, akin to the purring of a satisfied cat, when you keep lightly scratching on his chest with your fingernails absentmindedly, singing the words to the song you had mentioned. 

How do you manage to make him feel all light and warm inside despite his inner turmoil?

Then it dawns on him…

He is in love with you.

There is no doubt about it. He doesn’t even question it or deny it, he has been falling for a while — and that makes all this more complicated.

Just let me have one more night with her , he prays to the Sevens, because I know once I tell her, it will be over for good.

So he pulls you in towards his body closer, craving your affection as his lips meet yours. 

“Sleep,” he murmurs.

With a hum and your nose nudging his, you take his advice, your eyes finally closing as you relax into him. 

One more night , he promises, just one more night…  

Then he lets his eyelid flutter shut as well, allowing himself this one last night with you. 

a.t. 💗 🎵 nonsense · luvie 

---

author's note.

thank you for reading!! as always, let me know what you think, i love getting comments from you guys :') it keeps me inspired and keeps me writing more for you!

also, i hc luvie (myrcella baratheon) as sabrina carpenter so luvie's entire discrography is based on sabrina's music lol!

and, question...? what do you think the lyrics of 'landin' boy' (london boy) will be like?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I love your blog so much!! You're without a doubt my favorite writer on this app, you write yanderes so so well and you just manage to capture so amazingly the personality of EVERY character you write, especially Byakuya, i love him so much, and you just write him so well, i've been reading and rereading your works nonstop!

Could i please request yandere Byakuya with a Reader who's very kind and gentle and they like to follow him around (not in an annoying way, but in an attempt to try to befriend him and make sure he is okay during the killing game, since he is kinda excluded for being an ass). Better yet, how would he react to Reader actually leaving him alone after he went too far, or was too mean to them

Love everything you post so much, feel free to deny, remember to eat and drink water!

Thank you so so much! I'm happy i could make you happy! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sweet ‘n Sour | Yandere Byakuya Togami

It’s honestly an honor

That you’re transmigrated into an anime/game

Too bad it’s the killing game of Danganronpa

And of course, with you thrown in the middle things are really unpredictable

So you’ll comfort yourself in being as kind to these characters as you possibly can

Especially Byakuya

A fan favorite and an intriguing ally throughout the game

Of course, you just gravitate toward him

Even though he sneers and insults you

Sometimes threatens

But you don’t mind…

…

Even though….

Those comments are beginning to hurt 

It’s one thing to love a meaner character through the screen but in person, it’s pretty hard

despite your inclination to maintain your usual smile and gentle actions

After a while, you just stop trying 

Too bad some may consider that your biggest mistake:

“Honestly I was hoping you’d turn up as one of the corpses during this farce; it probably would have made it even more interesting.”

That was it.

That was the last straw for you. Toko could have all his time and attention for all you care. The sheer fact you’ve put up with this for so long disgusts you. To hear your own life be spat on by the guy you’d been trying to extend a helping hand to–it was despicable. (Of him or of you, you couldn’t decide.)

“Ah, I see. Have a good night then.”

That was the last time you went out of your way to speak to him; immediately changing your schedule to accompany someone else. Since you’d been away with Byakuya you almost forgot how kind the rest of the group was. 

“(Y/n) I’m so happy you’re willing to hang out now! Let’s make donuts together!”

“After that I hope you’ll indulge me and Naegi in a puzzle of sorts.”

“I-if it’s alright with you..”

It was refreshing. 

To be told you were actually wanted around was somehow so fulfilling.

What terrible company you’ve been keeping.

“I’d love to!” Within a matter of days you are feeling the warmth of friendly interactions; whereas the man you’re avoiding is having a….less than stellar reaction.

Crash! 

Toko was excited that her Byakuya-sama had finally chased you. A rival weak enough to be effected by words wasn’t much of a rival at all! But upon your absence in only a few hours into his daily routine Byakuya had made an intense realization. 

That he desperately desired your attention on him.

He didn’t have to actually see you skirting your routine with him to know he hated the thought of you spending any amount of time with his classmates rivals. It literally made his skin itch and his throat close up with every minute away from you. Naturally he doesn’t care that even Toko is unnerved by the tantrum he throws. Books are strewn about, the shelves dangerously leaning against one another. All of it just an emphasis of the palpable malice emanating off of Byakuya. In the middle of the ruins he just stands still. 

Alarmingly still.

Like a predator looking out. 

Are they hunting? Scoping? Contemplating the ways to torture their enemies?

No one really knows.

Even when he pulls at his hair and belts out in an uncouth laughing fit. In an instant he stops demanding Monokuma show himself this instant. He needed to find you. Now. He’ll make it a point to inform the headmaster of his own teaching. 

Because apparently you–being the kind and gentle soul you are should be able to withstand all kinds of people. Especially him. Always him. So he’ll offer his own guidance by keeping you within arms reach at all times. 

He expects you to persist against anything he can throw at you.

How else are you going to rule the world as a Togami?

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere byakuya togami #yandere byakuya x reader #yandere togami danganronpa #yandere danganronpa #yandere danganronpa x reader #yandere danganronpa trigger happy havoc #yandere byakuya togami x reader #yandere togami byakuya

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 25

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, a tinge of angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: I'm not sad... 🥲 Honestly, I don't have words beyond gratitude and cliché goodbyes, so let's end this journey together 🤍

<< 24 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

25. Dare

“Ugh, I can’t believe you convinced everyone to come out here,” Jo groans and raises her flat palm to her brows, shielding her eyes from the scalding desert sun. “What the fuck is wrong with Palm Springs, huh?”

“C’mon, we’ve always wanted to go to Joshua Tree together since we moved to LA. This is like the perfect time,” Y/N argues cheerfully and nudges her friend with her elbow. “Look! It’s so peaceful.”

“There’s a dead carcass over there. Looks like a symbol of my marriage,” Jo deadpans.

Y/N purses her lips before compelling another positive smile to her face. “We can get rid of that. The girls really needed this after the whole Crowley debacle.”

The group left straight after the network meeting in Dean’s office this morning, which didn’t go as planned, to say the least. While several executives were surely interested, Crowley and H-ELLTV put an abrupt end to it. Apparently, they sold their fucking souls by signing a contract with the devil. Crowley’s words still rang in her ears on repeat.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, ladies, but H-ELLTV owns your characters, which means you can’t sell them to another network. You all signed a contract and made a deal. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, fucking asshole…” Jo huffs her agreement but then throws her friend a suspicious sideways look. “What’s up with you, though? Why are you so chipper and cheerful like a fucking Disney princess? I thought you of all people would be fucking depressed and devastated about the stupid show ending.”

Y/N shrugs. “I am. I’m just trying to make the best of our last weekend together. Can’t I be happy?”

“Fuck no.” Jo shakes her head. “Something’s up with you. Usually, when you’re like this, it’s overcompensation ‘cause you’ve fucked something up. If I were still married, I’d think you’ve fucked my husband all over again. So, what did you do?”

Y/N shrugs once more and keeps her eyes trained on the sprawling desert landscape in front of her. “Nothing.”

“Dean also was a bigger asshole than usual this morning. So, I’m asking again, what shit did you fuck up now?”

“Nothing, okay? Dean’s always an asshole,” Y/N deflects defensively. Although, even she has to admit – those were some spectacularly icy green eyes this morning. Not that he ever looked directly at her or spoke with her even once. She probably would’ve turned to stone if he did.

“Fine, don’t tell. God knows I don’t fucking care,” Jo says indifferently and joins the other women as they set up their tents on the campground.

Y/N lets out a small sigh as she stares at the bluest sky she’s ever seen while the hot desert sun beams down on her. She watches the girls for a while, her heart slightly cracking at the thought this might be the last time they all hang out together. This year has been the best one she’s ever had.

But then, her heart stings even more when she thinks about the one person who isn’t here, wondering what he’s doing right now. If anything, she owes it all to him.

Dean nurses his beer with a sigh, his green eyes barely paying attention to the half-naked girl who’s winding herself up and down a silver pole in front of him. This used to bring him joy – day-drinking at a strip club and watching tits bounce. But now all he thinks about is how that girl looks nothing like Y/N. None of them do.

“Hey, son. Startin’ early today,” Bobby notes with a chuckle as he sits down next to him.

“Yeah, they canceled the show.” And while that’s certainly true, it’s not the reason why Dean’s sulking at a titty bar.

“Too damn bad. I loved the show!” Bobby tells him enthusiastically. “It was insane. Good insane. It had everything – comedy, drama, heartache, tits, violence, a fucking wedding? There’s something for everyone there.”

“Well, uh, thanks, Bobby. Really appreciate it,” Dean tells him politely. He likes the guy, but he’s not in the mood for chitchat. He’s barely in the mood for naked women, for crying out loud. This is a deep fucking depression.

There are only two promises he’s made to himself: One, he won’t slump like he did after his last divorce. There will be no excessive drinking, which leads to excessively pathetic crying, which leads to a myriad of bad choices out of sheer desperation. Remember that awful dating videotape he made? Yes, there will be no more of that. And then there’s of course two, no drugs – no matter how much he tells himself he wants or fucking needs them. A tiny dot of hope seems to be still dormant in his plastic heart, reminding him that she might come back, and he doesn’t want to risk disappointing her once she does.

Dean has worked fucking hard to be the best version he can be – a version she doesn’t seem to give a shit about. But even he has to admit: He likes himself a lot better now, so he refuses to turn back to old comforts, albeit it’s the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“You guys interested in doing a floor show?”

Bobby’s words pull him from his reverie. Dean arches a brow at him, straightening a bit in his seat. “What? Here?”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “No, idjit. My wife Ellen has some stakes in a club on the Vegas Strip. She manages the hotel there, too. They’re looking for a new headliner. Just do the exact same show, night after night, 300 miles east. Vegas is where the money is. Headliners make at least 25 grand a week. You think that gym is big? We have to fill 1,100 seats.”

Dean stumps and blinks at the old man a bit baffled. “Well, uh… I’ll think about it. Talk to my partner, the girls…”

Bobby smiles and pats his shoulder as he gets up. “You do that. I’ll call you tomorrow. Now, how about a lap dance? On the house. Can pick any girl that fancies your heartache. You ain’t foolin’ an old man like me.”

Dean chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks. Think I’m gonna head home and drink myself into a coma there.”

“It’s getting dark soon. How much longer?” Jo’s brown eyes dart to Y/N as she drags her feet over a rocky path. The sun stings less than it did when they started their little hike, but her skin feels perfectly tanned by now and the water is running low.

“Uh, I think it’s supposed to be just up ahead that hill,” Y/N muses and swirls her head around the formation of rocks that all look the same, squinting her eyes into the distance.

Jo sighs, and her stare intensifies. “You’ve been saying that for over an hour. Are we lost?”

“Noooo…” Y/N doesn’t sound convincing and surely doesn’t fool Jo with her reply.

“Alright, gimme the map.”

“I don’t have the map. I gave it to Meg.”

Jo groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her arms up in exasperation.

“What? Meg’s the trail leader. Trail leader gets the map,” Y/N defends her faux pas with reason.

“Great! So we’re fucking lost in the desert,” the blonde huffs.

Y/N chuckles lightly, mostly out of uncomfortableness and panic she tries to hide behind it. “No, there’s a trail marker right over there,” she says, pointing to a pile of rocks. “That looks manmade.”

Jo quirks her brow. “You mean like that pile of rocks? Or that one over there?”

Y/N follows her friend’s gaze, only to realize that there are lots of piles of rock that all look too fucking similar. She purses her lips and scratches her head before resting her arms on her squared-off hips. “I think we’re lost.”

“Yeah.” With an exhaustive sigh, Jo plops down on another pile of rocks and watches as the orange sun dips behind the horizon, shadows of blue slowly crawling across the desert floor and swallowing the light.

Y/N clumsily lowers herself down next to the blonde. Her leg hurts like a bitch, and the desert sand that has wound its way into her cast itches a good deal. Her hands and arms hurt as well from clinging to her crutches all afternoon. Maybe Dean was right, and this was a bad idea, after all. Why does he always have to be fucking right about everything? How can one person be so annoying and frustrating all at once?

“Well, you finally get your wish,” Jo deadpans. “We’re gonna die together.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N says ruefully and looks at the first stars appearing in the night sky. “Maybe the stars will guide us home.”

Jo just looks at her, unamused and unsurprised. “You’ve never been camping, have you?”

Y/N twitches her shoulders apologetically. “It was only supposed to be a three-mile moderate beginner’s trail to a beautiful vista. It’s what the guidebook said.”

Jo shakes her head and blows a raspberry, hugging her knees. “Joanna Wesson, 27, found dead near a random cluster of rocks that might have looked like a trail marker. She was best known for playing Beth Crowne on the soap opera Paradise Bay before trying to revive her career on an unsuccessful wrestling show. She is survived by her son, Sammy, and her bitter ex-husband Sam with his secretary Jessica.”

“Well, at least you get an obituary,” Y/N quips. “Mine would just read: Soap Star Found Dead Next to Unidentified Woman in National Park.”

Jo even snorts at that. “Well, I’m sure Dean would cut and edit an adorable video tribute with a bunch of B-roll about you at your funeral.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Y/N pensively licks her lips, her heart doing those painful twinges again whenever she thinks of him. “You know yet what you’re gonna do next?”

“No, I-… I think I wanna produce,” Jo announces with determination in her hazel eyes. “I don’t wanna ask permission. I’m so tired of it all. For once, I wanna boss people around and tell ‘em what to do. You know, you were right.”

Baffled, Y/N raises a brow. “About what?”

“Men,” Jo says simply and then spits with fire, “I fucking hate them all. The Crowleys and the Dicks and the Cases and the Sams and the Deans… They make the choices. They dictate the terms… I’m sick of it all. I just hate asking them for anything.”

“Dean’s not so bad,” Y/N says quietly but doesn’t look at Jo. Her heart stings for the millionth time. “I got that role for the Sondheim musical. They called this morning.”

Jo’s lips curve into a soft smile that reaches her eyes. “Congrats. I’m not surprised. You were really fucking good.”

Y/N’s heart flutters a little at the compliment. Tears begin to sting her eyes. She can’t remember the last time Jo was nice to her. “Thank you.”

“You don’t seem happy about it,” Jo notes attentively.

“No, I am,” Y/N manages to choke out, but the sniffling betrays her intentions.

“But?”

Y/N bobs her head, swallowing. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now.”

“Fucking finally,” Jo huffs and rubs her cold and goosebump-littered arms as the heat disappears, the nightly air bringing a fresh breeze.

“Dean told me he loves me,” Y/N confesses. “He’s in love with me.”

“Yeah, no shit. Kinda obvious,” Jo says without a twitch of surprise. “Don’t feel bad for not loving him back. That’s what they want… For us to feel bad about every single fucking thing.”

“That’s just it. I don’t think that’s how I feel,” Y/N replies and lets out a jittery sigh.

Jo’s head turns to her, eyeing her friend up and down. “And how do we feel about that? I can’t tell. It’s too dark to see your face.”

“I-, uh, I don’t exactly know,” Y/N says, which is partially true. She might know how she feels about the green-eyed director, but not how she feels about the situation overall.

Jo purses her lips and nods. “Alright, here’s a couple of options: happy, excited, scared, or… repulsed?”

“Well, uhm… scared,” Y/N admits slowly and gulps. “And excited… happy.”

Jo throws her arms up, shaking her head at the stars. “Jesus fuck! Then what the fuck are we doing here?! Is that why you dragged me all the way to the fucking desert? Because you’re running from your feelings?”

“Kinda. I thought the peaceful quiet and beautiful nature would bring me some much-needed clarity,” Y/N explains.

Jo lifts a brow but tries not to seem too annoyed. She’s accustomed to her friend’s theatrics, after all. “And? Did it?”

“The hike didn’t, but facing death kinda does,” Y/N jokes and begins to laugh a little, Jo soon joining her. When their laughter dies down and the desert sounds of chirping crickets and screeching eagles remain, Y/N exhales a shaky breath. “I’m in love with him, too. He makes me really fucking happy. But… I finally feel like I’m on the right track with my career. I am where I’m supposed to be, you know? I don’t wanna throw that away for a guy.”

“Who says you should?”

“I don’t know… Isn’t that how it goes? You did it,” Y/N argues.

Jo licks her lips and clicks her tongue. “Yeah, ‘cause I chose the wrong fucking guy. Sam made me give up everything I ever loved and told me what to love instead. If you pick the right guy, he won’t make you do that.”

“How do I know it’s the right guy, though?”

Jo smiles softly. “Look, I’m not Dean’s biggest fan, but he’s yours. You know that, right? He’d never hold you back. He adores the ground you walk on. Yes, he’s an asshole with so many fucking issues, and he’s goddamn annoying most of the time, but he’s always had your back, even when he pretended that he didn’t. The guy would probably sell every limb and his fucking soul to see you get everything you ever wanted, Y/N. He wouldn’t be a mistake. You know what would be a mistake? Not trying because you’re too scared of making one. Don’t be fucking stupid.”

Thoughtfully, Y/N nods in agreement and grabs her crutches, rising from her rocky seat. “I need to see him. We have to head back to the city.”

“Finally! Thank fucking God.” With a grunt, Jo jumps to her feet and helps Y/N to steady hers. “Maybe the girls made a fire bright enough, so we can find our way back.”

“Shit.”

“What? They have matches, don’t they? I’m sure these bitches can manage a simple fire, right?” Jo then notices Y/N’s hand curling around her bicep, her grip tightening. And then, Jo glances in the direction of Y/N’s eyes and sees the same damn thing. Her brown eyes widen.

“Mountain lion.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the blonde hisses and holds on to her friend as well. Both women freeze on the spot. “What-, uh, what should we do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we should throw a stick?”

“A stick?” Jo arches her brow. The big cat snarls and stalks a little closer, making the two women jump back. Their hearts are thumping in their throats at this point. “It’s not a fucking dog, Y/N. It won’t play fetch with you.”

“I know that. How about you come up with a better idea, then?” Y/N snaps through gritted teeth. The lion hisses again, causing the women to tremble down to their bones and hug each other tighter. “I think I should jump it.”

“Are you nuts? No!”

“Look, while it eats me, you can flee. I can’t run with my cast anyways. This is the best option,” Y/N insists, but Jo vehemently shakes her head.

“Fuck no! You’re not sacrificing yourself. We die together. You’re not leaving me behind,” Jo maintains. “I always knew my death would be your fault. Don’t ask me how, but I knew you’d get me killed somehow.”

The wild cat takes another step forward and lowers to the ground as if to get ready to jump its prey – them. But then a few tumbling rocks and breaking twigs draw its attention behind the women. Is there an even bigger cat here?

And suddenly, Meg leaps forward from above them with a loud howl and snarls at the cat, which hastily tucks its tail between its legs and flees down the hill into the dark night. Y/N and Jo expel a big breath of relief and a shaky laugh as they find Meg.

“Meg, what the fuck? Did you just scare away a mountain lion?” Y/N gapes at her friend in utter disbelief.

Meg only shrugs her shoulders. “I hate cats. What are you guys doing out here so long?”

“We got lost. Couldn’t find our way back to camp,” Y/N explains.

Meg furrows her brow and thumbs behind her. “It’s just over there. You guys have been hiking around the same hill for five hours.”

Jo shoots Y/N a small glare of annoyance and blows some loose strands of blonde hair out of her face. “Of course we did…” she mutters.

“We have to get back to LA!” Y/N declares eagerly, trying to climb the small rocky hill with her crutches, foregoing the more suitable pathway.

“Right now? It’s probably 3am when we get to Burbank. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?” Jo says as she attempts to climb after her friend.

“No! I almost died! Twice… Dean needs to know how I feel before I get bit by a rattlesnake, too,” Y/N reiterates passionately.

“It’s probably for the best,” Meg chimes in. “We kinda forgot to pack food. I was about to hunt something for us when I ran into you guys. We have tons of drugs and booze, though.”

Y/N’s knuckles thunder persistently on Dean’s door and conjure up a storm. She has jumped out of Ruby’s limo so fast, the girls are still scrambling out and flooding Dean’s front lawn one by one. They’re loud and obnoxious, but the ringing in her ears makes their chatter barely noticeable.

The lock clicks and the door opens. Dean stands in front of her with weary green eyes, heavy with sleep, tousled bed-head, and a furiously scrunched brow. He half yawns and half grumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he feels clearer, minus the soft buzz of whiskey remnants in his bloodstream, he blinks at the young actress in front of him and then tilts his head at the circus show behind her.

God, between his punk rock daughter and this, his neighbors must really hate him.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be camping in fucking Joshua Tree?” His voice is a gravelly bark. He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, especially when he just woke from a dream about her, but he’s not as masochistic as he used to be. He’s not a fan of torturing himself with the image of her any longer.

Y/N’s heart somersaults as soon as she sees him, even though his apprehension hurts a bit. “Look, I almost died tonight. We got lost in the desert and then a mountain lion almost fucking ate us.”

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah, I’m not fucking surprised. Told you Palm Springs is the better option. So, did anyone fucking die? What’s the head count?”

“No one died.”

“Huh. Then why the fuck are you here in the middle of the night, Y/N?” Dean bites, his brow creasing in anger. He can’t even fucking look at her for a second without his heart being on the brink of an explosion. Even saying her goddamn name hurts like needle pricks in an abused vein.

“I–” Y/N swallows thickly. Her drumming heart is stuck in her airway along with her words.

“She’s here to tell you she loves you!” Ruby hollers behind her before several girls tackle her and clasp her mouth shut.

Dean’s heart twists upon the sick joke, his frown deepening. But then he glances at Y/N and thinks he can spot the truth in her eyes. He thought that once before, though, and was terribly wrong.

Y/N gives a shrug of one shoulder with tears brimming in her eyes. A small smile forms on her lips. “What she said.”

Dean nods and drags a hand over his freckled face, feeling the tears well in his eyes, too. Fucking whiskey. Always renders him goddamn sentimental. “Look, uhm, you kinda gotta tell me this yourself. Otherwise, I won’t believe it, okay?”

Upon his request, Y/N takes a deep breath and looks him into his eyes. “I’m in fucking love with you.” As soon as the words are out, she starts crying and the tears fall down her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dean’s heart tumbles into free fall, and he’s sure not even a parachute can stop it. “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life. Is-, is it too late?”

Dean snorts and shakes his head, grinning brighter than the California sun on the longest day of the year. “Fuck no. Even if it had taken you thirty years, I still would’ve taken you back. That’s kinda how once-in-a-lifetime love works, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Sounds like a good movie,” Y/N jokes between her tears, her fingers tingling to touch him.

“Yeah, best one there is.”

His hands grab hold of her and pull her into his embrace. He claims her lips, Y/N eagerly parting her mouth as his tongue slips between. The kiss is rushed and fervent and perfectly desperate. They’re both so gone they can’t even hear the girls cheering and applauding them in the background.

“You’re gonna come inside?” Dean asks in a murmur against her lips, barely letting her breath.

“Uhm…”

“Hey, Lothario, you got space for us, too?” Cassie shouts with a wide smirk.

“Yeah, we’re fucking starving,” Ruby adds with an impatiently arched brow.

“We, uh, forgot to pack food,” Y/N explains with a chuckle.

Dean sighs and smiles knowingly. “Of course you did.” He then turns to the women waiting on his lawn. “Alright, get in. I’ll order some pizzas.”

The women then proceed to brush past the couple and filter into Dean’s house. Missouri pinches his cheeks, Ruby pats his head, Cassie fist-bumps him and sends Y/N a flirty wink, Meg tousles his hair, Charlie shrugs apologetically, and Jo offers an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m never gonna get rid of them, am I?” Dean looks down at her and tightens his jaw, even when a grin is visible.

“No, I’m afraid not. It’s like you’ve adopted twelve strays. One of which actually turned out to be your long-lost puppy. They’re gonna be here until you die and then eat your corpse,” Y/N quips.

“Funny.” Dean clicks his tongue, his dimples itching to form a grin.

“Oooo! Let’s call the guys!” he hears Ruby exclaim from inside his living room. “It’s a fucking wrap party at the boss’ house!”

“No! No party! Guys, c’mon!” Dean storms inside after them, leaving Y/N giggling on his doorstep.

“Let’s call Garth, Kevin, and Benny!” Donna suggests, ignoring his protests. It’s like they can’t fucking hear him.

“I’ll call my husband, too!” Bela adds and eagerly dials Cas’ number on his landline.

“Oh, right, Cas…” Dean mutters with an eye roll as he remembers the impromptu wedding. “No fucking Benny!”

Y/N joins his side and rubs his back in comfort as he watches his house sink into female doom. “You okay?”

The deep trenches in his brow flatten into soft valleys as his green eyes lock on her. He dips his head and pulls her to his lips, kissing her slow and reverently. “Better.” He smirks. “Just gonna have to sage the whole house tomorrow.”

That earns him a playful slap on his chest. He laughs and pulls her closer with an arm around her waist.

“Hey, uh, speaking of party…” Dean mumbles before he addresses the whole room, grabbing their attention with an authoritative clear of his throat. He’s still got it. “You guys wanna do shows in Vegas?”

“What?!”

Dean’s eyes find Y/N’s gaping face. He chuckles a little. “Yeah, uh, Bobby offered me a deal. There’s nothing in the network contract about live shows. I already went over it with Cas this afternoon. It pays well, too. You guys interested? It’s not like any of you have actual jobs lined up, right?”

Y/N closes her mouth. “I got that Sondheim musical in San Diego. It’s a workshop production, but if it goes well, it could go all the way to Broadway. I could end up in New York.”

“Good,” Dean says and smirks. “You’re fucking fired.”

“WHAT?!” Y/N’s mouth falls open again. “You said you’d never fire me!”

“Yeah, well, this is for your own good,” Dean reasons. “You think I’m gonna let you quit Sondheim for some stupid wrestling show in Vegas? You gotta be fucking nuts! This is what you fucking wanted. Don’t make me kick your stupid ass onto that stage. It’s gonna look embarrassing for you again…”

Y/N bites her lips to conceal her grin. Her eyes meet Jo’s, who mouths ‘I told you so’ at her. “Thank you,” she tells Dean and kisses his cheek. He furrows his brow at her in suspicion. “But rehearsals don’t start until June. Still gonna need a job till then.”

“Oh.” Dean’s brow shoots up in realization. “The June in nine months?”

“Yeah, the June in nine months,” Y/N confirms with a laugh.

“Whoops. Well, consider yourself rehired till June, then,” Dean relents.

“So, if I ever have to work in New York–”

“Then we’ll go to New York. Big fucking whoop-dee-doo. You know I hate LA.”

Y/N giggles, nodding. “What would you do in New York?”

“Same I do here, just on a little balcony instead of a backyard. I sit with my typewriter by a table and smoke and drink,” Dean retorts. “I’ve actually been working on a new script. I’m moving away from horror and into Western.”

“Got inspired by the motel’s wallpaper, huh?” Y/N teases. “What’s it about?”

“Father-daughter storyline. Thought I’d give that a shot…”

1990, 5 years later…

“Dean! We’re gonna be late!” Y/N reminds him and holds the blindfold in place over her eyes as he drags her somewhere by the hand. Her heels can barely keep up with his fast pace. “You know, check-in at LAX is the worst. Our flight departs in two hours. I’m nominated, Dean! I can’t reschedule! The girls are all flying in, too…”

“I know! I’m fucking hurrying, okay?” Dean assures. However, she can hear the stress and tension in his gravelly voice. He then suddenly halts and positions her into place by her shoulders before carefully taking off the blindfold. “Alright, here we are.”

Y/N blinks her eyes open and recognizes blurry shapes of purple and gold. She lifts an eyebrow as ornaments on the walls and a big stage come into view as well. “The Aztec porno theater?”

“Mayan,” Dean corrects her and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he gets down in front of her on one knee and tries to fumble out the too-big ring box from his too-tiny suit jacket pocket. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dean, wait!” Y/N stops his endeavor with raised palms, her eyebrows meeting her hairline when she realizes what he’s about to do.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N!” Dean frowns in frustration and rises to his feet with a huff and a shaking head. “I know you’re against marriage and the patriarchy and all that bullshit, but c’mon… We’ve been dating for five years. We have a good thing going, right?”

After spending a whole year in beautiful Las Vegas – the Paris of Nevada – the two of them moved to New York. Dean sold his house in Burbank and opted for a Brooklyn apartment instead. Claire also studied film at NYU before she graduated last Spring. But every few months, the couple finds themselves back in LA – for interviews, for business, for friends.

“Dean–”

“No! You know me. I’d make a great fucking husband. You love it when I make reporters laugh on the red carpet. I’m an awesome trophy husband, okay?”

“DEAN!”

“WHAT?!”

Why the fuck is she angry now? He should be the one that’s angry. She’s turning down the best opportunity of her life. She should consider herself lucky he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He even had an amazing speech prepared to knock her right off her feet, but does he get to say it now? How he wanted to grow fucking old together and support each other? How he wanted to marry her all those years ago when she told him she was pregnant? Nope...

“I’m fucking pregnant!”

Dean blinks at her in confusion before his eyes begin to wander around the familiar theater. Did he take something? Drink too much? Did he actually travel through time or is this a weird fever dream on his deathbed?

“What’s it with you and this theater? And why do you always yell that?”

“Because you never listen.” Y/N giggles and bites her lower lip. “And I’ll gladly marry you if that’s what you were going for. I just figured I’d tell you before in case you wanna change your mind and bail.”

“Why the fuck would I bail?” Dean’s brows knit together, close to offense.

She shrugs and holds up her palms in surrender. “I don’t know! I didn’t want you to feel trapped.”

“Why? Isn’t it mine?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, a grin twitching on her pink lips as she slaps his arm. “Yes, of course it’s yours.”

“And you’re keeping it? You sure?” Dean throws her a quizzical look.

Her brow furrows. “Why, you aren’t?”

“No, I am!” he assures her swiftly, realizing how it sounded. “Hell yeah, I want another kid! You know I always wanted to make up for missing out on Claire so much! I finally get to change a diaper, go to the park, or the fucking zoo while my wife works… It’ll be so fun!”

Y/N tries to stifle her laugh. He seems happy, judging by the joyful glint in his green eyes. They resemble sparkling emeralds.

“But are you sure, y' know?” Dean checks with a deep look into her eyes. “I mean, I do what I can to support you and keep the thing alive in your absence, but you know you’re still gonna be benched for a couple of months, right? I’m not a fucking seahorse.”

Y/N laughs a little at that. “I know. I’m fine with sitting on the bench for a little while. I’m kinda exhausted. I did two Broadway musicals almost back to back, three off-Broadway shows, all the workshops and the rehearsals and Matinees and the dancing and the singing… Not to mention I’m nominated for a fucking Tony tonight,” she says and is close to out of breath by the time she finishes her list of accomplishments.

“Which you’re gonna win,” Dean reassures her persistently. He’s been telling her since the nominations were announced (and even before that when he first saw her in the role on the first night).

“We’ll see,” she brushes him off, although her blushed cheeks betray her words. In her heart, she hopes so as well. “Anyways, I could use the break,” she admits and takes his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers. She places a loving kiss on his lips. “Right time, right guy, right baby,” she says, smiling.

Dean squeezes her hand happily and pulls her to his lips for a searing kiss. “So, where did we land on that whole marriage thing?”

“See? You’re never listening,” she teases, laughing. “Yes, I’ll marry you. Under one condition…”

Dean smirks. “I've had the same exact thought – Vegas. It’s perfect!”

“What, no! I don’t wanna get married in filthy Vegas, you dork!” Y/N frowns playfully, shaking her head. “I wanna get married in Nebraska. I want my dad to marry us."

Dean’s brow creases. He chuckles in amusement. “What, like a shotgun wedding? Could be fun… Pastor marries pregnant daughter to older man. Is this gonna make headlines in the townie paper?”

Y/N snorts, shaking her head at him. “No, it’s a shotgun wedding. It’s very common,” she deadpans.

“I’ve never met your parents,” Dean realizes then. “Why have I never met your parents? It’s weird they never come visit you,” he ponders.

“Oh no, they do,” Y/N tells him, pursing her lips as she twirls her hair around her finger. “They’ve seen me both in Into The Woods and Gypsy.”

“Really, when?” Dean narrows his eyes at her.

“Whenever you were in LA, visiting Claire,” Y/N admits ruefully. She never told them she was dating the director, not sure if they’d approve – not that she gives a shit, but she wanted to spare herself all the sermons and the exploring of the Sunday school dating pool. Whenever they asked who owned the men’s clothes in her apartment, she lied and said she had a gay-but-in-the-closet roommate. “But you can meet them now,” she promises with a reassuring smile on her lips. Thank God she’s an excellent, Tony-nominated actress. “I’m sure they learn to love you just like I did.”

“Learn to?”

“I love you.” Y/N smiles mischievously and shuts up any further comments by kissing him.

Dean grins and relents with a blissful sigh. “I love you, too.”

THE END 🌅

Thank you all so much for reading and making me laugh with your comments and screams throughout! 🤍

Are we done with these two for good? Probably not. I've left gaps and doors open on purpose, so I'm sure they'll make an appearance again at some point in the future 😉

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@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

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@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70

#plastic hearts #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #director!dean winchester #director!dean winchester x actress!reader #actress!reader #glow au #supernatural au #dean winchester au #dean winchester series #dean winchester x you #dean winchester reader insert #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #hollywood au #80s au #jensen ackles #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles reader insert

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

I'm Setting Off, But Not Without My Muse

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 7

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

4.8k words

Warnings: Language, heavy kissing, pining

Keeley lounged on Roy’s couch, looking comfortable and familiar with crossed her legs and messy hair. She smiled when Roy handed her the soda he’d brought from the kitchen, throwing Roy back to all those lazy days they’d spent together on that couch, days of kisses and laughter and love. Days he missed.

“My sister should be here soon,” he murmured as he threw himself down on the couch beside Keeley. “Remind me what you and Phoebe are doing again?” He resisted the urge to grab her hand or press his palm to her thigh, the way he used to.

Ignoring or missing Roy’s pining, Keeley grinned and sipped her soda. “We’re going to a museum,” she explained slowly. “And we’re going to take turns closing our eyes and trying to draw the art we see. Whoever does the best wins, and loser pays for lunch.”

“Where the fuck did Phoebe get money from?” Roy snorted.

Keeley blinked at him, as if it was obvious. “You, you dolt. Girl’s a little millionaire with all your swearing.”

The sound of knocking at his door stopped Roy from retorting; not that he had a defense, to be fair. His wallet was constantly empty thanks to Pheobe. Maybe the knock at the door saved him from admitting Keeley was right, he thought to himself as he opened it.

Those familiar eyes sparkled at him. “Hey, Roy.” She stepped inside, looking comfortable in a simple sweater and jeans. The moment she saw Keeley on the couch, it was like a switch flipped. Her hand was on Roy’s hip, tugging him to herself so she could plant a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Missed you,” she hummed.

Roy froze. Even after all this time, all the kisses, he still had moments where her seemingly easy affection caught him off-guard, rendering him frozen like a statue. This was definitely one of those moments, with his ex-girlfriend on his couch watching with quirked eyebrows and amused eyes.

Just as suddenly, she stepped back and smacked her palm to her forehead. “Shit,” she chuckled awkwardly, her eyes focusing on Keeley again. “I’m so sorry. I forgot I don’t have to do that in front of you.” She adjusted Roy’s shirt where she’d grabbed him. “My bad, Kent.”

“Don’t stop on my account,” Keeley teased, shooting them a wink. “Kiss him all you want. I doubt he’d complain too much.”

“Keeley-” Roy started to growl, wondering if both women could spot his heavy blush and the way his fists clenched at his side.

But Keeley wasn’t focused on that. Instead, she patted the spot next to her, urging the popstar to sit beside her. “So, have you two planned your holiday yet? I know Lanie’s been on your ass about it.”

With a glance at Roy, the singer settled by Keeley, noticeably stiff compared to the former model. “Uh, Roy found some spot in this little lakeside town,” she said quietly. Roy wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her sound so timid. What the fuck had her so shy? “That’s why I’m here,” she added quickly, eyes on Keeley. “So we can finish planning everything.”

“That sounds lovely,” Keeley said in a soothing voice, almost as though she was trying to comfort the singer. “I think you and Roy-o are going to have a great time.” She shot Roy another wink. “Sounds very romantic.”

Roy cleared his throat. “I think it’ll be a great writing spot,” he said. “She can focus on the album, I’ll get some reading done.”

There was that smile, that small grin that made Roy soften. “I’m excited,” she admitted to Keeley, although her eyes were still on Roy. “If nothing else, it’s nice to get away before the tour begins. Because now, with this album, I’m not going to get to relax much before it starts. At least I’ll get to relax a little on this trip.”

“Or not relax,” Keeley hummed with a wink.

Roy didn’t know what he hated more: Keeley implying he’d be interested in anyone other than her, or feeling embarrassed in front of his fake girlfriend. Probably the latter, he realized when he saw the alarmed look that appeared on that pretty face. Now she was going to spend their little getaway worried that Roy was going to make some sort of move on her, he panicked with silent groan.

Fucking Keeley.

~

“Shit, sunshine, what’s in this one? Bricks?”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the admittedly heavy backpack out of Roy’s hands. “Old notebooks,” I corrected. “I’ve gotta dig through these things to find some usable lyrics, remember?”

Roy’s little grunt was the only answer I got. He loaded my suitcase into his giant black car before taking back the backpack and tossing it inside. He squinted at my empty hands for a moment before gazing back at my house. “I made sure the place was pet-friendly, you know.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, cocking my head. “What, did Keeley make you rent a dog for our vacation? Make us look all domestic?”

“No,” he huffed, obviously fighting the growing curve in his mouth. “For Sydney. I figured you’d be bringing her along.”

My heart melted as I blinked at Roy. I knew he liked my cat- and she, amazingly enough, liked him in return- but I wouldn’t have expected him to include her in our plans. Most of my real boyfriends tolerated Syd well enough, choosing to mostly engage in mutual indifference. Roy, on the other hand, seemed to genuinely like having Sydney curled up in his lap during Scrabble games and was keen to feed her if he woke up before me.

Stupid thing better not get too attached, I thought bitterly as I mumbled something about going to pack Sydney’s things really quickly. He won’t be around forever.

As I gathered some cat food and toys and urged Sydney into her travel carrier, I wondered if I was worried about Sydney or myself. With Roy’s help, I packed the cat and her things into his car, reminding myself all the while that this was a business trip of sorts. We were going for publicity, I scolded myself as I buckled into the passenger seat. This was for work.

My reminders were interrupted when Roy turned on his car and my own voice suddenly filled the vehicle.

The tips of Roy’s ears were red as he quickly turned off the car stereo. “Phoebe,” he mumbled simply. “She always turns it up way too fucking loud.”

I fought the smile that was desperately trying to break through. “Sure, Kent,” I chuckled. “You weren’t blasting my song on your way to pick me up. You absolutely didn’t sing every word at the top of your lungs. Totally believe you.”

Damn, why did he have to wear bashfulness so well? “Fuck off, sunshine.”

Slouching in my seat and defeated by the smile on my face, I turned to him. “What is your favorite song by me? If you don’t mind me asking.”

His fingers tapped the steering wheel as he turned off my street, off on our little adventure. “D’you think I have a favorite?”

“Of course you do,” I scoffed. “I saw the way you sang Our Song. You’re a bigger fan than you let on, Kent.”

“Touche.” He bobbled his head as he stared straight ahead. “You’ve got some really good songs. Nothing New was phenomenal. I’ve listened to it a few times and it just leaves me fucking breathless.” A frown crossed his face. “But it might be Happiness,” he said quietly.

My eyes traced his profile. “Why that one?”

He sighed and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “It’s mature,” he said slowly. “Accepting the end of this relationship, acknowledging the good and bad of it all, hoping for forgiveness that goes both ways.” He sighed. “I’ve got to admit, I used to think you were just… fluff. I mean, Pheebs always likes your sugary pop stuff, that’s what’s on the radio. But after Nothing New-” He shook his head. “I went and listened to some of your other things, and fuck, you’re a great songwriter.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. “And I liked the Gatsby references, sunshine.”

I tried to tell myself that my warm cheeks were the result of feeling humbled by kind praise, not feeling flustered because Roy was telling me he liked my song. “Thanks,” I murmured. I picked at the hem of my shirt. “It was kind of a hard song to write. Emotionally, I mean. But it felt really good once I’d finished recording it.”

“I bet,” was all he said.

The rest of the drive was calmly quiet. I rested my head against the window, watching the city fade away and become green, green, and more green. Roy didn’t say much, other than ask how Sydney and I were doing. After a while, I took out a notebook and began jotting down some words, words that just kind of flowered onto the page before I could even really comprehend what they were saying.

Roy eyed me curiously as I scribbled. “Lyrics?” he asked simply.

I nodded, scribbling down the last couple of words. “Just a few lines,” I admitted. “Who knows if it’ll become anything. But you never know, so I’ve gotta write everything down. Sometimes the silliest little lines can become something special.”

“Read it to me.”

I swallowed hard, staring at the words I’d jotted down. “It’s just a couple little scribbles-”

“Come on, sunshine.”

Unable to say no to his gentle tone, I cleared by throat and slowly read, “Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark… show me the places where the others gave you scars… Now this is an open-shut case, I guess I should’ve known by the look on your face… Every bait-and-switch was a work of art.”

When I dared to look at Roy, he wore a large, infectious grin. “What the fuck,” he chuckled, smacking the steering wheel. “What kind of a mind d’you got in that pretty little head? You just came up with that right now? Out of fucking nowhere?” He let out a sharp breath. “Fucking amazing.”

His words were overwhelming, drawing a deep blush to my cheeks. He sounded so real, so genuine as he praised the couple of lines I’d jotted down. I decided to believe he really meant it. Friends could gush over each other like that- right?

I also decided to ignore him calling me pretty.

“Thanks, Kent,” I murmured, slouching into my seat. “Dunno what it’ll become but…”

“Well, whatever it is,” he said, “it’ll be fucking great.”

He knew he’d guessed right when he saw the smile on her face at the sight of the instrument. She turned to him, eyebrows raised and cat in hand.

~

It was a nice house. Bright and airy with a gorgeous view of a lake, a couple of cozy bedrooms, a sweet little kitchen, and, most importantly, an inviting sitting room with a piano. As soon as Roy saw a photo of the instrument online, he booked the house, figuring it would be a perfect spot for some songwriting.

“There’s a piano,” she said simply.

Roy nodded, warmth in his chest as he took in her pleased reaction. “Figured between that and your guitar, you’d be all set,” he explained. “Is it fine? The piano? I didn’t know what kind you like, or if this one’s any good.” He was blabbering now, suddenly anxious that he’d done just the wrong thing.

But she shook her head, letting Sydney go so she could approach the little bench. She sat and began plucking at the keys, creating a simple little melody that Roy felt like he knew. She glanced at him, the music never stopping. “You ever play?”

“No,” Roy scoffed. “Only thing I’ve ever played is football.” Not knowing what came over him, he strolled over and sat beside her, watching her fingers move with ease over the ivory. “Is this one of your songs?”

She nodded and opened her mouth, letting her sweet voice fill the house.

Roy nodded along. He’d heard this one before; it always sounded so childish when he heard it over the speakers, and half the time he skipped right over it, ignoring Phoebe’s complaints about ever skipping her songs. But maybe it was hearing the authoress in person, or maybe it was how down-to-earth it sounded like this, or maybe it was the way the setting sun was hitting her pretty face, whatever it was, Roy thought the song sounded nothing short of charming.

School bell rings, walk me home

Sidewalk chalk covered in snow

Lost my gloves, you give me one

"Wanna hang out?"

Yeah, sounds like fun

Video games, you pass me a note

Sleeping in tents

It's nice to have a friend

She turned to him, still playing, and nodded to the keys. “You try.”

“Fuck no, I-”

All it took was her raising her eyebrows expectantly, and Roy found his fingers touching the cool keys. She paused, freezing her fingers and nodding down at them.

“Set your fingers like this,” she instructed. When Roy had taken the same position, she looked at his face. “Just copy my movements.”

She moved her fingers slowly, delicately, and Roy did his best to mirror them. He hit some wrong keys, and he was so stilted and awkward, but he created something resembling music. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders started to dissipate, all the embarrassment in his head gone, making room in his brain for the simple melody they created together. A quiet, almost domestic bliss settled over the two of them, the kind of quiet that didn’t need a single word. He tried to remember the last time he felt such a calmness; probably with Keeley. He didn’t realize how much he missed it, just the pleasure of someone’s company.

And Roy definitely wasn’t complaining about the glowing little smiles she offered him.

It was nice to have a friend, indeed.

~

It was the sun, I told myself as I forced my eyes back to my notebook. I was suddenly feeling warm because I was lying out in the sun. That had to be it.

~

The sun felt good on my face, warm and inviting. I was supposed to be diving through an old notebook and searching for usable lyrics, but Roy kept distracting me. Not on purpose, of course. He just stretched out on our picnic blanket, eyes on the book he’d brought along, pausing only to take a sip of beer or grab a piece of fruit to pop into his mouth. But I couldn’t stop glancing over at him. He looked so incredibly relaxed, kind of like he had the night of his championship celebration, and he had this tiny grin on his face as he read, as if he was amused by the book in his hands. And then I noticed his hands, how strong and firm they looked holding the book open. And today he’d opted to wear shorts, showing off muscular legs I rarely got to see.

“Alright there?”

That gruff voice had me snapping back to reality. “Fine,” I choked out, shaking away thoughts that I really shouldn’t have been having. “How’s your book?”

Roy shrugged and flipped through the pages. “It’s good. I’ve read it before, but it’s nice to revisit?” He raised an eyebrow. “Like you and Gatsby, I guess.”

My eyes scanned the cover I hadn’t paid much attention to earlier. “A Wrinkle in Time,” I read aloud. “I’ve heard that’s a good one.”

“You could borrow it sometime. If you want.” Roy grinned. “When you’re not being pressured to write an entire album of love song for a man you’re not really in love with.” He shook his head, missing way I squirmed at the ‘L’ word. “Freaking Keeley, making you do this. You’re a trooper for saying yes, you know that, sunshine?”

“It’s fine,” I assured him with a little chuckle. “Who doesn’t love a challenge?” I paused, picking at the grass at the edge of the blanket. “Speaking of Keeley…” I let out a little breath, suddenly even warmer in the face. “She didn’t, er, send you any messages recently, did she?”

Something in Roy’s face fell for a flicker of a moment before relaxing again. He quickly shook his head. “No. Did she send you something?”

“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes, pretending my heart wasn’t slamming in my chest. “She says we’re both way too hot to be so… chaste when we’re out together.” I offered an awkward grimace. “She wants us to, like, get caught being hot and heavy.”

The choking sound sputtering out of Roy’s mouth had my face burning even worse than it already was. “Oh.” He blinked a few times, the gears in his head almost visibly turning. “Do you… want to make out then?”

Despite the absolute mortification I was feeling, I couldn’t help laughing at his words. “Jeez, Roy, that’s so high school of you,” I managed between chuckles.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he finally joined me in laughter. “Fuck me, that was terrible, wasn’t it?” He shook his head, offering a sheepish grin. “But I mean…” His eyes shifted somewhere over my shoulder. “That papps Keeley tipped off is over there somewhere. Probably has a clear view of us.” He raised his eyebrows. “Unless…”

The laughter left my lungs as I looked into those brown eyes, just as unsure as I suddenly felt. This shouldn’t be difficult; we’d been kissing each other for a couple of months now. And I’d filmed plenty of kissing scenes for music videos, I reminded myself. Steamy ones, even. Surely, I could manage to get a little heavy with my supposed boyfriend, couldn’t I?

“Anything for the job,” I joked, suddenly hating the way that had seemed to become our motto.

“For the job,” Roy echoed with a smirk.

Without warning, he grabbed my hips and tugged me onto his lap. A surprised squeal slipped past my lips, prompting a chuckle to rumble in his chest. His hands skittered up and down my back as he smiled up at me.

“This alright?” he hummed. His eyes were on my mouth.

I managed to nod as I rested my hands on his shoulders. “Sure.” I hoped my voice was casual and unbothered.

“Good.”

His lips felt so comfortable against mine, warm and familiar now. I let myself settle onto his lap and closed my eyes, focusing on being as natural as possible. Roy pulled me close, chest to chest, until I felt his heartbeat against my body; he could probably feel mine slamming against my ribs. He tasted like the beer and fruit he’d been enjoying all afternoon, a beautiful, summery combination I wanted to taste forever. Without thinking, I gave a gentle grind against his lap. His grip tightened on me as a curious little hum vibrated against my mouth.

My body was buzzing, on fire, drunk on Roy’s mouth and hands and body. While the little voices in the back of my mind kept reminding me this was an act, this was all pretend, the rest of my mind was screaming Roy’s name, wanting to take him back to the house and make this real.

Taking him back to the house felt like an especially good idea when his hands began to slide down my back, lower and lower.

“Should I…?” he rasped against my lips.

I nodded, refusing to open my eyes and break the spell I was under. “Probably.”

Roy’s hands cupped my ass tentatively, as if he was waiting for me to snap at him; he was probably remembering the night we “met”, where I warned him about his hand placement. Oh, how far we’d come since that night of snarking at each other and trying not to roll our eyes. Trying to assure him he was fine, I pressed down against him again, swallowing back my reflexive groan when I felt the beginning of a bulge against my increasingly needy parts.

Apparently he understood the permission I was giving him, because Roy’s grip on my ass tightened, fingers digging into the material of my jeans. I tried to remember the last time I’d been kissed like this- in public no less. It felt like something was waking up inside me. No, it wasn’t arousal from the kiss, from Roy’s hands on my body like he wanted me. It was a feeling that was settling deep in the pit of my stomach, a feeling that was making itself right at home as a melody and words began to bloom in my mind.

Dammit, it might be love.

~

~

For the last few decades, Roy Kent had spent plenty of time around impressive people. Politicians and rich people who made him want to barf. Actresses and models that looked good on his arm and in his bed. And, of course, some of the most famous, talented athletes in history, athletes he was proud to play against and stand beside. Hell, he was a legend in his own right, something he seemed to conveniently forget.

But he couldn’t help being impressed watching an artist at work, something he hadn’t had the opportunity to witness before now. He was a little nervous for her heading into this holiday, wondering if she’d be able to work under so much pressure. But once they arrived, it was like a dam had broken. She was constantly in her notebooks, scribbling furiously and scrambling through old pages. Or she was strumming away at her guitar or picking at the piano, creating melodies that Roy found himself humming as he relaxed around the house.

She didn’t play much for him, just little snippets here and there that she quickly critiqued and went back to work on. Still, he kept asking her to play him something; but they weren’t ready she insisted. Roy didn’t care; he found himself craving pretty tunes and a prettier voice.

A couple days into the trip, he was in the little kitchen, making some dinner while Sydney padded around, meowing up at him and drowning out the twinkling sounds of the piano. He mumbled back to the cat, reminding her that her owner would not be happy if he snuck her a treat without checking first. But the cat kept chattering, so Roy finally threw his hands up in defeat.

“Fine,” he huffed, unable to believe he was having a conversation with a cat. “Let’s go ask your mum if you can have a bit of fucking carrot.” He scooped up Sydney and let her climb onto his shoulders- a spot he had quickly realized she liked- and made his way into the sitting room.

She looked so comfortable in her sweats, her hair up in a sloppy hairstyle. She was so engrossed in her music, she didn’t notice Roy leaning in the doorway, a ghost of a smile on his face as he listened to her quietly sing.

Sydney’s little meow caught her attention. She stopped playing and looked up at the duo in the doorway, eyes a little wide. “Oh, hey,” she chuckled, smoothing down her wild hair. “Sorry, too loud?”

I spy with my little tired eye

Tiny as a firefly

A pebble that we picked up last July

Down deep inside your pocket

We almost forgot it

Does it ever miss Wicklow sometimes?

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

“Not at all,” Roy assured her, reaching up to scratch Sydney behind the ear. Damn cat, interrupting his private concert. “That’s really fucking nice. You should keep going. I’d love to hear it.”

A tiny smile graced her lips when she saw the earnest way Roy was looking at her. “Fine. But you stay over there. I want to pretend you guys aren’t here, alright?”

Roy did as he was told, staying in the doorway as she picked up that sweet little melody and focused her eyes on the notebook in front of her, the words almost indiscernible; she seemed to be able to read the rushed writing with ease.

She took a deep breath and snuck a glance at Roy before continuing to the bridge- her strength as a songwriter, Roy recalled from Keeley.

On the way home

I wrote a poem

You say, "What a mind"

This happens all the time

'Cause they said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they're push and shoving

You're in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was nothing

Her smile grew as she went on, looking less like a glamorous popstar and more like a girl, alone in her room, playing with music as if it was a toy, creating something out of nothing but emotions. It was nothing short of magical, Roy admitted to himself. This album was going to be something special, he realized.

Industry disruptors and soul deconstructors

And smooth-talking hucksters out glad-handing each other

And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more"

To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it

And he’d have to take credit for being its muse.

She looked straight at Roy, not hiding that radiant smile as she sang-

They said the end is coming

Everyone’s up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they’re push and shoving

She played a sweet little outro, eyes still on Roy. Once finished, she offered him a tiny shrug, eyes bright with curiosity. “What d’you think?”

Roy’s in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

They said the end is coming

Everyone’s up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

Outside, they’re push and shoving

You’re in the kitchen humming

All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing

“Fuck,” Roy laughed, finally walking over to sit down next to her, letting Sydney slip down into his arms. “That was lovely. Really lovely.” Before he could stop himself, the question he dreaded asking blurted out of his mouth. “Who’s it about?”

He felt so sure he’d stepped in it when her eyes flickered down, away from his gaze, before looking at him again. “Well, when I originally started writing this one, it was about my mom,” she started slowly. “I had been thinking about this time my parents visited, and we went to Ireland together. It was amazing, getting to show them places they never thought they’d visit.” She shook her head, as if the memories of that trip were fluttering through her mind. Then her eyes found his again. “But it’s also… well, about you, Kent.”

Roy nearly dropped the cat. “Me?” he asked incredulously. “Fuck d’you mean me?”

She chuckled awkwardly, rolling her eyes a little. “What you said about my mind, when I was writing in the car,” she explained. “And how you’ve been just, I dunno, really sweet about everything I’ve been working on here. And, I don’t know, you’ve become a really good friend.” She reached out and placed a hand on his leg, giving a small squeeze. “So I guess this song’s about the people who make me feel safe, happy, despite all the idiots in this world.” She wrinkled her nose. “Does that make sense?”

His heart felt like it stopped dead in his chest. It was such a candid, honest answer- and not the one he expected. He knew she’d have to change lyrics to fit him before finalizing songs, but he didn’t think she’d write about him. Roy wasn’t sure he’d ever been so… flattered? Sure. Flattery. That was the warm feeling nuzzling in his chest, the same warm feeling that was spreading to his cheeks as she blinked at him, waiting for him to say something, probably to assure her that he liked being her muse.

“Oh,” was all that came out of his stupid mouth. “Wow.”

He saw it. He had seen it when he brushed her off the first time she talked to him about The Great Gatsby. He saw it when he walked brusquely out of the room when she first played Nothing New for him in her living room. And he was pretty sure he saw it when he ignored her at the Greyhound’s celebration to pay attention to Keeley.

It was some mix of disappointment and hurt. Something that made Roy wish he was capable of being someone other than himself.

Still, she put on that tiny, shy smile and removed her hand from Roy’s leg. “Yeah,” she chuckled. “Anyway, sorry for interrupting your cooking.” She cleared her throat and stood, scooping Sydney out of his arms. “I better go feed her.” Not quite looking at Roy, she walked out, leaving him all alone at the silent piano.

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#roy kent i'll write your name #roy kent iwyn #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso fanfiction

[yangkitties]

bros before hoes ✰ chapter 11: ding dong ditch

wc: 0.9k

You stood outside Hybe Cafe with Tsuki and Anton, making small talk. 

Anton was a timid little dude, albeit being one of the funniest and sweetest guys you knew. He stood awkwardly beside you, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. He chuckled lightly at your attempts at diffusing his nerves, smiling gratefully at you. You’d met him a few times prior to this, and was glad to know he had warmed up to you. 

You don’t even remember how you ended up owing your brother this favour, but you didn’t mind. Anton was a nice guy and if helping him make more friends was the favour, then you were more than ready to complete it. 

Anton and Tsuki were hitting it off, talking about their favourite drinks. Tsuki had this aura which put everyone around her at ease, and you were beyond grateful for her presence. Maybe her being there would help Anton and Jungwon become friends faster. 

Just as you were about to text Sunghoon asking where he was, you heard voices bickering at the end of the hallway. Sunghoon and Jungwon appeared at the turn, seemingly arguing about Sunghoon’s hair. 

Jungwon turned away from Sunghoon, throwing his hands up in frustration. Sunghoon rolled his eyes at him, quickly fixing his hair. 

You laughed to yourself before waving them over. 

‘Tsuki noona!!’ Jungwon ran over, enveloping Tsuki in a hug. She ruffled his hair affectionately, pulling away with a wide smile on her face. Jungwon bowed to you, turning to lightly smile at Anton.

‘That’s right! Jungwon, Anton. Anton, Jungwon!’ You introduced them to each other.

‘I’m here too…’ Sunghoon sulked from the back, awkwardly standing a few feet away. Jungwon rolled his eyes, grabbing him violently and pulling him towards the rest of the group. 

‘C’mon, let’s go inside.’ Tsuki urged the rest of you guys to follow her, going to a booth at the back. 

The first few minutes were awkward, the 5 of you staring at each other in silence. But thankfully Tsuki knew just how to break the ice, and soon enough the conversation bloomed, lively chatter passing between all of you. 

Anton and Jungwon seemed to get along just fine, bonding over their shared interests. You observed them silently, smiling at how genuine Jungwon seemed at getting to know Anton. Anton seemed less awkward, his shy facade slowly melting away. 

You then turned to the other side, looking at Tsuki. She seemed to be making small talk with Sunghoon, who was once again reduced to a blubbering mess. He did look more confident today, his face less of a tomato red and more of a baby pink. 

You joined in on their conversation, intently listening to some story Sunghoon was recounting. Sunghoon was animatedly explaining the events, talking about what he and Jake had been doing in Japan. 

That’s when Jungwon stood up, Anton mimicking his actions, ‘I want to show Anton something up in the practice rooms, I’ll be quick with it!’ He smiled before walking away, Anton waving at you as he followed Jungwon. 

At least I don’t have to drag them away now… Damn it now I have to find an excuse to leave too. You thought to yourself, frowning as you waved back. 

‘Oh! Look at the time, I actually have to go! I promised Haewon I’d help her with cleaning around the dorm.’ Tsuki’s voice cut through your thoughts as she stood up, startling you. 

You shot up instantly, hand on her wrist ‘Oh, really? Well, Tsuki, you stay here I’ll help Haewonnie! You have that dust allergy anyway.’ You mustered up your most enthusiastic smile, lightly nudging Tsuki back to her seat. 

‘No, it’s absolutely okay, let me do it. Plus, Haewon specifically mentioned that she wanted me to help. And you hate cleaning anyway, so let me do it.’ You could see her forced smile as she practically pushed you to sit back down. 

This was a new side of her that you had never seen, and you weren’t too excited to fight her like this. You nod hurriedly, settling into your seat in mild terror. 

As soon as she knew you weren’t going to argue anymore, she morphed back into her usual self, waving cheerfully as she left. 

‘That was… odd.’ You mused loud, fiddling with the ice in your drink. You signed, frown returning to your face. ‘Guess this is it then. See you day after tomorrow for MC practice?’ You turned to Sunghoon, disappointment visible in your face. 

Sunghoon noticed your light pout, suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to do everything to make you feel better overcoming him. 

‘Uhh… I mean just because they’re gone doesn’t mean we can hang out, right? I don’t have anything to do, unless you do?’ He asked tentatively, eyes searching for a sign in yours. 

‘Oh-! That’s fine, yeah, we can hang out!’ You smiled, shoulders relaxing. 

Sunghoon cheered mentally, celebrating his successful attempt at cheering you up. ‘That’s great! Let me go get some more croissants for us and then I’ll tell you this story about me and Heeseungie hyung.’ 

You giggled at his enthusiasm, butterflies filling your stomach at his eager smile. 

The rest of the evening is filled with the both of you exchanging stories of your trainee days and childhoods, laughing and reminiscing about the past. 

You thank whatever deity exists above for this opportunity, basking in Sunghoon’s presence, simply enjoying his company. 

Unfortunately all good things come to an end. You wave bye to Sunghoon, floating on cloud 9 as you leave. You’re beyond happy, and truly nothing could change that. 

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synopsis > with the help of fukutomi tsuki, park y/n finally gains the courage to face their long time crush, the one and only, park sunghoon. park sunghoon thinks it's love at first sight when he sees her. paired up as the new mcs of music bank, shenanigans ensue when y/n learns about sunghoon's crush...

note: YN LORE JUST DROPPED !!!! if anyone can guess who their brother is i will give you a Kiss 😁

©️ yangkitties 2024 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

#🎙️:bbh #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen imagine #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen smau #park sunghoon smau #sunghoon smau #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon imagines #enhypen socmed au #enha socmed au #sunghoon fanfic #enhypen fake texts #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #enha smau #sunghoon social media au

[interstellarlyinlove]

Mutual pining (May 12th)

Word count: 700

@wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius screams into his pillow. James startles, knocking the pot of ink on the desk all over his admittedly horrible essay. 

“Godric! What the hell?” James and Sirius are the only ones in their dorm room and Sirius has apparently gone crazy.

“Why won’t he talk to me?” Sirius asks, throwing the pillow on the floor. “Why won’t he just talk to me?”

“Remus literally talks to you all the time,” James says, and he doesn’t need to ask who Sirius is referring to because who else would it be? “And pick up that pillow. This room barely fits all of us when it is tidy.”

“But no, he doesn’t. James, he doesn’t. Not about the things that matter, anyway.” Sirius doesn’t say anything about the pillow but he does pick it up.

“What are the things that matter, again?” James asks, turning his chair around to look at Sirius. 

Sirius blinks. “I just mean that–”

“What is the last thing you two talked about?”

“How peeling an orange is the epitome of love, apparently,” Sirius says. And he doesn’t even say it to be funny. He’s completely earnest.

James truly cannot believe that Remus and Sirius don’t know that they’re already dating. “You talked about– how did that conversation start?”

“I’m not really sure. But, see? I want to talk to Remus about things that matter. And things that don’t matter, as well, like love oranges. It was a really lovely conversation, James. Easy flowing and funny and–”

“Love oranges are funny?”

“Well, Remus is funny, so yeah.”

James nods. He doesn’t want to point out the obvious and tell Sirius to just ask Remus to marry him already if only to see how long it takes Sirius to figure out that Remus is obsessed with him as well.

“Can you help me make a list?”

“Sure,” James says. He tilts his head. “Of what?”

“Of like, conversation starters.”

“You need conversation prompts to talk with Remus?” James raises an eyebrow. Remus and Sirius literally don’t shut up.

“I need conversation prompts to talk about deep things with Remus.”

James starts laughing, and he can’t stop. “Deep things?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

Remus doesn’t sleep well the week before the full moon. James doesn’t sleep well, ever. They snuck out into the Forbidden Forest after Remus broke more quills than James could justify during their late-night library study session. 

“What do you think my animagus would be?” Remus asks as they are walking. “And don’t say a wolf because I will gouge your eyes out.”

James laughs. “I wasn’t going to. An eagle.”

“That’s cool.”

James shrugs. “You’re cool. It makes sense.”

“Sometimes I feel that it’s unfair to Sirius that I like him,” Remus says, and James knows that is what Remus wanted to say in the first place. “That’s a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

James flicks Remus’ head. “Don’t apologize, you twat.”

Remus smiles. “You’re the twat.”

“And it is a stupid thing to say. How is it unfair?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. At all.” James shakes his head. He hates that Remus thinks that. If only he could put his two friends in a room and force them to say these things to each other. “Sirius is lucky that you like him. I wish you liked me instead. Screw that guy, come make out with me.”

Remus laughs. “I would totally make out with you. But the heart wants what it wants." Remus pauses. "The heart is a bitch.”

“Is it the hair?” James asks. “I can totally grow my hair out if you want. Did you know my dad has this whole hair business empire thing? And if it’s the eyes there are spells for that! It definitely isn't the music talent, right? He’s the worst person in the choir. And I’m better at Quidditch.”

Remus whistles. “You really are the whole package, Jamie.”

“Damn right!”

“It's the Sirius,” Remus says, then he groans. “Wow. That’s humiliating. I can’t believe I actually said that.”

James pats Remus’ back. “It happens in the best of families, I’m afraid.” Remus chuckles and James really hopes Remus and Sirius figure it out soon.

#Barbie has a great day everyday #Ken only has a great day when Barbie looks at him #Except Remus and Sirius only have great days when the other looks at them <3 #also Remus peeling oranges <3 for the people he loves <3 #also angsty Remus sort of spawns out of nowhere like that's really not what I had in mind lol #also also James <3 #just James loml wonderful friend best quidditch player hair empire heir <3 #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #marauders era #my writing

[broadwaybalogna]

superhero au where zutara gets kidnapped together and they have a conversation for the first time? (for the prompts thing)

Ooooh wait this is so cute. Lemme do a mini Drabble rq.

Featuring flirty Zuko, Trauma dumping, using humor to cope with trauma, and chiche’s galore.

Katara had seen Zuko a few times in the past, fighting off a series of evils that struck any of the four nations. While Katara had spent most of her time positioned in either of the two water tribes, Zuko would focus himself more on the fire nation. And once, maybe every few months, they would find themselves working together to fight off something that had infiltrated the earth kingdom or air temples.

This was no different. Katara had spotted Zuko first as he hid amongst the trees, watching Zhao, an enemy they had both fought before, roam the forests looking for a secluded tribe of non-benders.

Zuko spotted her not too long after she saw him, and he passed her a wink. She rolled her eyes and smiled. They never actually communicated often. The most they had really spoken to each other had been during fights when contemplating how to defeat whoever was terrorizing one of the nations.

Katara focused her eyes back on Zhao. It took her a moment to find him but once she did, her blood ran cold.

Zhao was staring at her from under the trees, a sly smirk painting his face.

“Shit,” Katara whispered before taking the water from her small hip pack and jumping to the ground. She needed to make sure Zuko remained unseen if they still wanted to use the element of surprise. She just had to hope Zhao hadn’t seen her wildern conversation with the boy.

“Nice to see you again, Lady Katara,” Zhao calmly spoke, which raised an abundance of red flags in Katara’s mind. She kept her best poker face on stared into his eyes.

“I don’t feel like it’s that hard to leave non-bender’s alone. I mean, you really have to go out of your way to organize and plan your schemes. It must be a shame either Zuko or I stop you each time.”

“It really would be a shame. It’s a good thing I’m not after the non-benders this time.”

“Stop lying through your teeth. You and I both know about the letter you sent to your second and command detailing their tribes whereabouts.”

Zhao smiled. Not good.

In less than five seconds, Zhao sent out a whistle that signaled at least ten fire benders to surround Katara and begin throwing flames at her.

“Shit!” Katara yelled, using her water as a shield and watching it slowly evaporate with each fire blasted at her.

She quickly picked up the water from surrounding plants to turn into ice shared and throw at her opponents. But they blocked and sent twice the amount of fire back at her.

Now would be a great time for Zuko to come out of hiding.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a flash of red came from the trees and toward the closest firebender to Katara.

“Sorry, you’re just so pretty when you fight.”

Katara let out a chuckle and focused back on the firebenders at hand.

Yeah, they’ve got this.

—

They in fact, did got ‘got this’ Katara thought to herself as she was shoved into a dark, dry room, arms tied behind her back, at the bottom of an army ship.

She let out a grunt as she was thrown onto the ground and reluctantly tied to a wooden pillar in the middle of the room.

“The Fire Lord will pay a hefty bag for the two of you,” the man who threw her in spoke, his voice nasal and cruel.

“In your dreams, she spat back.”

The man laughed before leaving her alone to her own thoughts.

1. She was in a dark, but more importantly, dry room, so water was out of the question.

2. Her hands were tied, so she had no way to control any water if she even wanted to.

3. She had no clue where Zuko was so she was probably alone.

“‘Sup.”

Okay, she wasn’t alone.

“Zuko?” She called, surprised to hear his voice so clear.

“The one and only.”

“Huh,” she spoke to herself, contemplating a new plan on how to get out given this new discovery.

“I hate to be a bother, but do you have a plan on how to get out of here? You’re pretty good with that.”

“Thanks? And I’m working on it.”

“Well it’s a good 2 days we have before making it to the dock of the Fire Lord’s palace.”

“Did you see how many guards were on the deck?” Katara asked, making a mental note of Zuko’s statement.

“I was blindfolded, but I could hear maybe five.”

“I’ll count on there being at least ten, then. Do you have any other abilities that could possibly aid us in getting the hell out of here?”

Zuko took a moment to think, then, out of the corner of her eye, Katara saw a flame of smoke come from the opposite side of the room she was in.

“How’d you do that?”

“I’ve got awesome breath support.”

“Okay, nice, breathing fire. Any way you can breathe your ties off?”

“Mine are metal.”

“Well shit.”

“I could set this place on fire?”

“The Top of the deck is mostly metal. And I doubt the Fire Lord cares if we get to him dead or alive.”

“Hmm,” Zuko thought.

They spent the next few hours strategizing a way out of the room they were in until they finally landed on a plan.

“You think it’ll work?”

“I suppose. We’ll just have to wait for the ship to make it to the dock.”

“Nice.”

Then, there was a long silence. They had come up with a plan, so there was little to actually talk about now. Katara felt incredibly awkward.

“So…” she started, “How long have you been doing the whole heroine thing?”

“About two years. What about you?”

“Year and a half.”

“Cool… I don’t think we’ve ever actually had a conversation before.”

“Yeah, well, life’s busy.”

“Mhm.”

…

“What’s your favorite color?” Zuko spoke after a good minute had passed.

“Yellow, you?”

“Purple.”

…

“Favorite animal?”

“Zuko, I think you’re going to drive me insane.”

“I’ve personally already gone insane.”

“Can we please skip the small talk.”

“What do you want to talk about instead?”

“I don’t know, something of substance?”

Katara could feel Zuko rolling his eyes.

…

It had been maybe a few hours of on and off conversations, teasing, and a weird amount of flirting that Katara didn’t like to admit she enjoyed.

“You’ve got a tragic backstory superhero origin?” Zuko asked, providing a much deeper question.

“Oh! Um. Not really? I just, uh- want to help people, I guess. My dad isn’t around often, so I get a lot of free rein. I guess my brother and I raised each other. Oh, and my mom died when I was eight.”

“I’d say that’s pretty solid?”

“You’ve got something tragic?”

“Well, not that it’s a competition.”

“Okay, something juicy.”

“I kind of do this whole hero thing as a rebellion against my dad.”

“Daddy issues, that’s something we’ve got in common. And very tragic backstory esc.”

“Yeah. I actually…” he took a deep breath, “I think he uh- killed my mom.”

“SPIRITS, WHAT!?”

“Shh!”

“Zuko, what the FUCK,” Katara whisper shouted.

“Well, is say i’d get the tragic backstory trophy.”

“I-“ There was a long silence. “How can you just- joke about it?”

Zuko took another breath. “Yeah I… I’ve had a lot of time to consider it. I suppose it’s the easiest way to cope with the idea that it might be true. Humor always helps.”

Katara couldn’t help but nod. “Well, you get all the trophies and metals for that right there.”

She heard Zuko shuffle around in his corner. Then, silence.

Suddenly, another wave of fire came toward this, this time, it was much closer than before.

“Did you move?” Katara asked, changing from the touchy subject.

“Yeah, I guess they don’t have flexible metal so they just chained me up.”

Katara raised her eyebrows in amusement. “So why have you just been there the whole time?”

“Didn’t want to spook you. And I didn’t want to make you jealous that I had the ability to roam.” Katara could tell he was still across the room. If he could travel far enough, maybe he could’ve fire bend her own ties off. She rolled her eyes at his statement.

“Is there any way you can make more light?”

Another flame made its way across the room from Zuko’s mouth.

Katara thought for a moment, then grabbed the outer layer of her clothes. “Here,” she said, as she pushed her coat towards Zuko, “set this on fire so we can have some proper light.”

Zuko took a moment.

“Something the matter?”

“Yeah, no, I just. The jacket that I wear holds a few knives in it… that Zhao noticed.”

“Okay?”

“So he took my jacket.”

“But you only wear a jack- OH.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“So just don’t be too spooked by my, ahem-“

“Upper body.”

“I prefer rock hard abs but you get the jist.”

Zuko lit up Katara’s coat and finally gave the room light.

And yeah, Katara wouldn’t mind staying here for two days with Zuko.

#atla #zutara #atla katara #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender #katara #zuko #fanfiction #katara x zuko #zuko x katara #fanfic #cliche #this is so bad but I must feed my audience #don’t mind all the plot holes

[hazbinfallinginaspiral]

ello! i have a promt idea for doll reader? wat happen's if she become's way to obessed with vox as well as when he's away sense i kinda think that doll reader would gain seprepration anxieity?

Good point! I like the way you think

Gone (Doll!reader x Vox)

CW: I went a bit overboard. Uh. Separation anxiety sort of turned into a depressive episode/spiral in this case. Sorry. AU typical events.

“I’ve got a fuckload of shit to deal with,” Vox muttered to his assistant, preparing to leave. He paused, then turned back to me. I’d been trailing behind him like a lost puppy. “Hey doll, be good for me while I’m gone, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, with a small smile. “When will you-”

“Great! I’ll be off now,” Vox said, cutting me off. He grinned, then zapped himself away.

“But…” I stood there for a moment, a pang of hurt hitting me hard. I pushed it aside and left his assistant to do his work, heading back to my own room.

I wandered aimlessly through the empty halls, my steps faltering as I struggled to shake off the sense of emptiness that seemed to cling to me like a second skin. Everywhere I looked, I saw reminders of him, small traces of his presence that served only to intensify the ache in my heart.

I gently closed and locked the door behind me, a sense of emptiness filling me up. How long would he be gone for?

Alone in the silence that followed, I felt the weight of his absence settle over me like a heavy shroud. The familiar hum of activity that filled the room seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a deafening silence that echoed with the echoes of his voice.

At night, as I lay alone in the darkness, the loneliness seemed to suffocate me, the silence oppressive and stifling. I longed for the warmth of his embrace, the sound of his voice, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against mine. But he was gone, and I was left to face the empty expanse of the night alone.

I hated this feeling. I hated how fucking familiar it was, how I always fell right back into the same old habits.

Hours stretched into days, and still, Vox remained absent, his absence a gaping hole in my chest that seemed to grow larger with each passing moment. I tried to distract myself with work, throwing myself into my duties with a fervor that bordered on desperation, but nothing could fill the void that his absence had left behind.

I stopped eating, not even caring to take care of myself. I needed something, anything to distract me from this feeling. It grew with every day he was away in his business trip. I couldn’t- I couldn’t do this.

One night, I collapsed in our room, not even making it to the bed. I’d worked myself ragged, and I was burnt out and tired- and so, so hungry. I just wished Vox was here, I wished he could tell me what to do, I wished I could hear the hum of his TV head or even just see those wonderful black and red spirals in his left eye.

I shook my head and wiped away my tears as I sat up. I’d been crying? Didn’t matter. I dragged myself to the shower, where I ended up just sitting on the tiled floor. I let the hot water burn my skin. It was a miracle I’d even let myself take a shower.

Hours later, I called Vox’s assistants saying that I wouldn’t be there to help out for a while. He didn’t ask any questions. I wandered aimlessly around the room, barely touching anything, still not eating. This continued until my legs gave out, and I fell to the floor. I didn’t bother getting up this time. This gnawing loneliness without Vox… I didn’t care enough to continue doing anything. Anywhere I went, there’d only be more reminders of him.

I lay on the floor, half propped up against the bed, my eyes glazed over in thought.

Days continued to pass, and still, Vox remained absent, his absence a constant ache that lingered in the depths of my soul. And though I knew that he would return, that his absence was only temporary, the emptiness that he left behind seemed to stretch on for eternity, a gaping void that threatened to swallow me whole.

If anyone were to come in and see me, they might think me dead. Or a very impressive statue. I hadn’t moved from my spot on the floor. I didn’t know if I’d even gotten some sleep. I just knew I hadn’t moved, and I’d been laying there limp, staring at the same spot for days, unable to think of anything but Vox. I needed him. Without him, I was just some useless doll. Without him, I was nothing.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #vox x doll!reader #doll!reader #vox fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #be a doll

[thelonelyarchon]

📮RETURN TO SENDER ᯓᡣ𐭩

004 - rejected

Note: written text up ahead after divider

ONCE you turned the knob of the door that leads you to the living room, you half-expected to deal with the questions your other friends had for you. Locking yourself in the bathroom for five hours is not normal per se, but it was much needed for your sanity.

You’re surprised by the lack of your other friends’ presence. To give you and Kaveh some space to reconcile, they’ve stealthily hidden themselves behind a large china cabinet. You noticed them either way. If Kaveh noticed their presence too, he didn’t make it obvious that he did.

Kaveh stood in the middle of the room with a tight-lipped expression and guilty eyes that one would think he did something more horrible than just sending out a letter that wasn’t supposed to be sent. You narrowed your eyes at him. He winces.

Proud as you were, you knew Kaveh didn’t do anything wrong. He had only followed the instruction you have given him in the first place. Maybe your stubbornness looked for excuses to rationalize your own fault so Kaveh who had done the unthinkable got your rage.

When you see his guilty state, you sighed and walked towards.

“Ten minutes. Let’s talk this out.” You said in a weak voice.

Kaveh looked like a wilted flower. At the sound of your voice, he perks up just fine. He had been blaming himself for being reckless. As anyone who knew him would comment on that particular trait. He didn’t want you to hate him for this.

“Hey, I’m sorry, [name.]” He starts. You shake your head.

“What do you mean? I should be the one saying sorry. Between the two of us, it was my fault.”

“I mailed the letter.”

“I told you to mail them, though. You didn’t know which one is which so it was my fault,” you walked closer to him. “For that… I’m sorry. Don’t work yourself up too much.”

In an attempt to console him of the guilt he has, you pat his shoulder and give him a smile. He hesitantly smiled back.

“Also, if you think I’m mad because you were the one who sent the letter, you’re wrong. I’m mad at myself.” You laugh.

“So, this is settled now? Are we friends again?” Kaveh asked.

“It depends on the contents of that letter.” You used your lips to point at the letter on his hand, hanging at his side. He looks at it and raises it.

“It’s from Alhaitham.”

“I know.”

“You may not like the contents.”

“I know.”

“You still want to read it?” He confirms for the third time. You grab it from his hand and nods. Kaveh sucks in a sharp breath and waits.

You opened the letter and scanned the contents of the letter. The more you read the letter, the more your vision began to blur and the whirlwind of emotions began to suffocate you. You feel your heart breaking with each line coming from Alhaitham. You already expected this kind of reply. But it still hurt deep inside. To stop you from reading it, Kaveh covers your vision of the letter with his hand.

“That’s enough,” he said softly.

“I guess we’re not friends anymore, Kaveh.” You laugh jokingly through streams of tears. “I need a moment.”

“S-sure.” He watches you as you walk towards the other end of your dorm. You weakly throw Alhaitham’s letter away before sitting out on the small hanging balcony. Out of curiosity, Kaveh walked towards the bin and reads your letter. He notices the original letter he sent to Alhaitham.

Dear [Name],

I hope this letter finds you in good health. To begin with, I did not expect to receive such a letter on such short notice. I have read the contents of your letter thoroughly, and I have contemplated what to write back to you in correspondence.

I must admit I am flustered by your words of praises, Ms. [Name]. However, I would like to apologize for being a bearer of bad news.

Though I appreciate your enthusiasm and 'profound love for me,' I regret to inform you that I cannot return those feelings.

My feelings are reserved only for the one who makes my heart beat with fervor. I’m afraid someone already has the right to those feelings.

Enclosed with this reply is your letter. It may be best for me to return it to you. If we ever pass by each other or whether or not you approach me some other time, I shall treat you as though I know nothing so we may start anew.

I hope I didn’t ruin this day any further for you. For all that it’s worth, happy valentine’s day. Have a nice day.

Sincerely,

Alhaitham

Kaveh sighs and reaches the letter on the trash bin. He didn’t know what to do with it but something in him is saying that this will be needed someday. Maybe he’ll keep it safe until then. Maybe [Name] will need it someday.

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TAGLIST: @makimakimi @yura-4life

#genshin impact #lily's corner | soc med au 🧸☁️₊˚⊹⋆ #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem reader #alhaitham x reader socmed au #socmed au #social media au #genshin men #genshin men x reader #genshinimpact #alhaitham x reader smau #smau #alhaitham x reader fic #alhaitham x female reader

[jacaerysgf]

So i was thinking about enemies to lovers jacaerys x ftm!reader like they know each other since they were kids but they're always fighting/competing with each other and then someone from their school throw a party and they got very drunk and ended up fucking (ofc jace teases the hell out of him)

a.n: literally pure filth, enjoy ! can be read as gn! but it is intended to be m! just a little drabble

w.c: 800+

c.w under cut

masterlist - requests open

c.w: bottom!also kinda mean but sub!reader, mean? dom!top!jace, college au, barely any plot, teasing, slut shaming, anal (implied), anal fingering, anal eating (implied), male masturbation (kinda?),slight breeding kink i guess ? rivals to lovers(?)/fwb? can be interpreted either way, not proofread

“Always knew you were a fucking slut.”

You don’t even remember how you ended up here. You and jace have always had a sort of rivalry. Ever since you met you two never really got along, you were civil when you needed to be, but any chance you would get you two would exchange insults.

“When are the two of you gonna fuck already?” You remember looking at your friend with confusion, “What are you talking about?”

“Are you kidding me? The hate fucking you guys would have is insane.”

“You say that like you didn't just have your tongue up my ass.” You feel a harsh slap against your ass cheeks and you whimper. “Shut the fuck up slut.”

“Make me you piece of shit.” He says nothing in return. You don’t see what he’s doing, laying on your stomach makes it near impossible to look at him, you hear some wet sounds before you suddenly feel a finger slip into your hole and moan.

“You were too fucking ready for that, what a fucking whore.” No sounds leave your mouth other than hushed moans as he begins to pump his finger in and out. “Now you wanna be quiet huh? you were running your mouth earlier what happened?” You can hear the fake concerned voice and you can even imagine the pout on his face as he mocks you.

“Please.” He shoves a second finger in and moves so his face is right next to your ear, managing to catch your teary eyes, “Awe,” He wipes a tear from you face but the look he gives you shows he doesn't care, “Look at you, so cute.”

“Fuck you.” You manage to cry out and you watch his jaw clench and he tsks at you. “Seems like nobody taught you how to show some respect.” Suddenly his fingers are ripped out of you and you whine, wiggling your ass in his direction to get him to put them back in.

He slaps your ass, “Stop fucking whining,” He flips you around and he’s suddenly straddling you, holding his cock in his hands, “you need to be punished so you’re gonna sit there and watch.”

You stare at him, trying to keep your eyes off his dick as he begins to stroke himself, his eyes closing as he begins to moan. “Fuck.” No matter how much squirming and whining you do he does not let up, continuing to force you watch him pleasure himself while you’re withering in pain from how turned on you are.

“jace,,,” “shut up, im fucking close.”

He has you laying on your hands so you can’t even reach up and grab him. “I’m sorry jace please.” He just laughs and shakes his head, continuing to jerk himself off. “Now you wanna be sorry right? right as im about to cum, awe are you upset im not cumming in you?”

He grabs your jaw with one hand and forces you to look him, “What you want that? You want me to stuff you full?” You nod as best you can and you try to see his facial expression through your blurry teary eyes.

You see him come closer into view until his lips press against yours, unlike how he has been treating you he kissed you softly. Both of his hands move to cup your cheeks, you can feel him smiling against your lips and as he pulls back he wipes some of the tears off your face.

“You good?” His voice is softer than it had been before, clearly checking in on you. Your heart swells at his actions and you nod. “Yes, i promise, im good.” He hums and pecks your lips one more time before he gets off you and harshly turns you over and pulls your hips up and a hand comes down to force your chest against the bed.

You can’t help but feel slightly humiliated at the position but you can think about that right as his fingers rub around your hole. “You’re so cute.”

“Saying that to my ass?” “What? She’s cute, look at her puckering at my fingers.” “My ass is a she?” “To make you feel better ill say my dick is also a she.” “Fuck you.”

Apparently in that time you were chatting he had lubed up his dick and began to stick the head of his dick inside you, “I'm fucking trying to.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys strong #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys x reader #jace x you #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jace x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house targaryen #jacaerys #jacaerys x male reader

[mazzystar24]

idk how tim is keeping her around… like its so clear the fandom hates her and wants her gone- just read the comments on the stills. i understand that her contract probably requires her to be in a certain number of episodes, but tim has really fucked with her storyline this season and made her a bigger character than she ever needed to be and i genuinely don’t understand his choice to do so… if it were to somehow play into eddie’s sexuality, there are a myriad of other ways that could be introduced without givinf a transphobe screentime and along with some of tim’s other choices this season really makes me doubt if he knows what he’s doing at times…. i was so excited for him to come back as showrunner because i thought yk maybe they would stop dragging their feet on buddie but every day it feels more and more like baiting and that we’re simultaneously closer yet further away than we’ve ever been and it’s making me not trust time anymore. and with the jlh live making the joke about buddie not happening it’s making it so hard to remain optimistic… like i will forever be a buddie shipper first and foremost, but i also know how network tv shows use shit like this to their advantage when it comes to baiting and pulling in audiences to watch- it’s been done over and over and over and as much as i want to believe tim wouldn’t do that to us, it’s getting harder and harder to trust him every day. i’ve never considered folding in a series i’ve so vehemently loved before but this season has really messed with my head and i don’t know if i can continue putting myself through the torture if there won’t be any payoff.

Hi anon! Totally meant to reply to this before the episode so obviously my answer is a bit different (but not overtly so)

This episode confirmed Marisol is on her way out so small victories of the transphobe getting kicked to the curb

Totally understand where you’re coming from with being disheartened and like obviously look out for yourself first and foremost but if you’re looking for reassurance I think that like

1. Jlh will only have limited knowledge like Devon was saying even her, edy and Ryan were trying to get info from eachother on who’s staying and stuff and also jlh did clarify it’s a joke and also if buddie were going to have some confirmation this season they would be telling all the actors to keep it hush hush and throw people off guessing it

2. It’s true tv networks do like using that stuff to promote shows but also abc very much seems to recognise that fans make or break a show that’s why you see a lot of shows on it like greys or the rookie do tend to keep an eye on fan reactions and respond accordingly and by that logic if the tv network is aware enough of the fact they can promote a show by even hinting at buddie undertones then they know that full canon would do favours for their ratings, and Tim did say one of the main obstacles to bi buck canon was the network back when they were on fox

3. Things are constantly in progress and we still have s8 so there is never cause to be like there is no hope, like if they didn’t want buddie canon on the table they would have said so but they constantly establish that it’s on the table and if the story progresses that way then they’d all be on board

I gotta pulls a Serena and say I gotta go but thanks anon for the ask and hope it’s somehow reassuring

Remember bestie delulu is the solulu🥰❤️🫶🤡🤩✨

(yes I had to make a joke somewhere cos I’m extremely awkward)

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #eddie diaz #911 fox #evan buck buckley #911onfox #buckley diaz family #asks open #send asks #send me asks #answered asks #asks