#These two are couple goals change my mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flwrstqr · 7 months ago

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— HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (LHS - 이희승)

SYNOPSIS ! an advice writer, you, starts on a bold new project for an article aiming to explain how to drive a man away in just 10 days. your editor is supports, so you set out to find a suitable man for her experiment. meanwhile, executive heeseung is equally confident in his ability to make any woman fall in love with him within 10 days. when you and heeseung cross paths, things slightly go off plan.

THE CAST heeseung x writer! fem reader

GENRE s2l, fluff, comedy, romance

WORD COUNT 5k+

WARNINGS parties, kissing, small grammar errors, yn kind of playing with heeseung at first, swearing, angst, crying

DANi NOTEZ hii this is for my liz's new event!!! this i based the rom com, how to lose a guy in 10 days. i kind of changed up scenes but the main idea and plot is based on the iconic 2000s movie. i've been writing this for abt 2-3 days? i thought it was good enough for liz' event so here i am. anyways i hope u enjoy it ><

BEING A WRITER HAS BEEN YOUR NUMBER ONE GOAL EVER SINCE HIGH SCHOOL. Now, at age 23, you were finally standing at the gates of the biggest magazine company ever. The sight alone sent chills down your spine, filling you with exhilaration.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the doors and stepped inside. The bustling activity, the hum of the printer, and the aroma of bitter coffee greeted you. You made your way to the elevator and anxiously pressed the button for the 17th floor.

Upon arrival, you awkwardly walked into the office. Your heart was pounding, and your knees were slightly shaking. You approached the manager's office and opened the door, finding yourself sitting in front of your section's main manager.

"YN LN?" the woman asked.

"Yes, ma'am," you replied stiffly, nerves evident in your voice.

"Welcome to our magazine company," she greeted, shaking your sweaty hand.

"Thank you," you responded with your usual sweet smile.

"Well, why don't you get to work?" she laughed. Your eyes widened, and you quickly stammered an apology, rushing to find your new desk and start brainstorming ideas.

For nearly two hours, you gazed out the window, feeling empty. No ideas were coming to you. It always seemed that the best ideas came at the worst times, and now, when you needed them most, your mind was blank.

"YN, just think…" you whispered to yourself, running your fingers through your hair. You glanced around the office, hoping for inspiration. Your eyes settled on a young man and woman engaged in a flirtatious conversation. Watching them smile and laugh together made you wonder if they were a couple or just interested in each other. (happy couples really did give you an ick.)

Then, it happened. The perfect idea. An idea that could possibly get you promoted and shake the whole world.

Quickly scribbling on your paper, the title snapped into your mind: "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days."

YOU MIGHT BE WONDERING, how do you even lose a guy in 10 days? Easy—just find a guy and drive him away by doing stereotypical “girl things.” Sounds like a piece of cake, right?

“YN, that is one of the BEST ideas I’ve ever heard!” your editor, Yeseo, exclaims.

“Really?” you ask, eagerly smiling.

“It’s perfect! It would catch everyone’s attention!” Yeseo explains, her eyes lighting up as she imagines the situation.

“So, how are you going to write this?” Yeseo raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll try it out myself and document my experiences. That way, it’s more authentic,” you shrug.

“That sounds great. Just journal your experiences each day,” Yeseo nods, agreeing with your plan. “I’m so excited to see the final product, YN. Email me once you’re finished, and we’ll get it published within weeks.”

You give her a quick smile before leaving her office, ready to start your new adventure.

PARTIES. USUALLY ONE OF THE THINGS YOU ABSOLUTELY HATED. The noise of couples kissing, people screaming, and music blasting through the speakers was just not your thing. The way sweaty bodies brush against each other as they chug alcohol. Parties are truly the thing you hate the most.

“So you’re telling me your new article for the magazine is about how to get a boy to dump you in 10 days?” Karina raised her eyebrow.

“In other words, yes,” you smiled. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Possibly it not working,” Giselle interjected.

“Well, it will. I’ve planned the whole thing,” you grinned with a hint of pride. “My editor was impressed. I’m sure it’ll work.”

“If you say so,” Karina laughed at your confidence.

“So basically, YN will get a boyfriend before me?” Ningning asked, shocked.

“Well, he’s not gonna be my boyfriend. He’s more like a test,” you replied uncertainty. As you continued to explain your plan, you felt a gaze fixed on you from across the room.

A FEW MINUTES BEFORE

“I bet you can’t get a girlfriend,” Jake joked.

“I can,” Heeseung rolled his eyes.

“Wanna bet on it, then?” Jake's eyes glinted with playfulness.

“Deal,” Heeseung confirmed.

“If you get that girl over there as your girlfriend, then I’ll give you a thousand dollars.” Jake smirked, pointing at you across the room.

“Her?” Heeseung raised his eyebrow as he checked you out. You were pretty to his eyes, though he wasn’t sure if he had the courage to approach you.

“Yup, her,” Jake grinned.

“Deal, I’ll have her in my arms within a day,” Heeseung winked before walking over to ask for your number.

NOW

“No way my plan will fail–” your voice stopped as Heeseung approached, tapping your shoulder lightly.

“Hi,” he greeted you with a welcoming smile.

“Uh, hi?” you replied, confused.

“You’re kind of cute. Can I get your number?” Heeseung asked, the words not quite rolling off his tongue as he had never done this before.

Your cheeks burned slightly as you stared. “Sure?” He was quite cute, with his sweet smile and perfectly styled hair. You gave him your number, and he mentioned he would text you later before walking off.

“YN, you know what that means?” Giselle raised her eyebrow.

“Huh?” you looked confused.

“You can use him as your test,” Winter recalled. Your eyes then widened. Perfect! He would be the perfect subject for your new article. Now, how were you going to make him yours?

YOU SIT ON YOUR BED, staring at your phone, debating whether to text Heeseung first. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, a mixture of nervousness and excitement bubbling inside you. Finally, you take a deep breath and type out a message.

YN: Hi, it’s YN. We met at the party earlier, you asked for my number. :)

You hit send and immediately feel a rush of anxiety. What if he doesn’t respond? What if he thinks you’re weird? You try to distract yourself by scrolling through social media, but the minutes feel like hours. Suddenly, your phone buzzes.

Heeseung: Hey, of course I remember. How's your night going?

YN: It’s going good, just relaxing now. How about you?

Heeseung: Same here. Just got home. That party was a bit too much for me, tbh

You smile, feeling a little more at ease.

YN: Agreed, not rlly a party person lmao

Heeseung: Really? Me neither. I actually prefer a quiet night with some good music.

YN: Same, what kind of music do you like?

Heeseung: I listen to a lot like R&B and indie ig

YN: oh rlly? Same w me

Heeseung: oh that’s cool

Heeseung: also wanna meet up one day?

YN: That would be amazing. I’m totally up for it.

Heeseung: Cool, it’s a date then. :)

You can’t help but smile at his message, feeling a flutter of excitement.

YN: Sounds like a plan.

Heeseung: It’s getting late. I should probably get some sleep. But I’m glad we got to talk tonight.

YN: Me too. Sleep well, Heeseung. Talk to you tomorrow?

Heeseung: Definitely. Goodnight, YN. :)

You set your phone down, a smile still on your face. This might just be the start of something interesting.

YOU TAKE A DEEP BREATH, smoothing out your outfit one last time before stepping into the restaurant. Heeseung is already there, waiting at a table near the window. He spots you and waves, a warm smile spreading across his face. You give a small smile back.

“Hi,” you greet him as you sit down.

“Hey,” he replies, “You look great.”

“Thanks, you too.”

The waiter comes over to take your orders, and there’s a moment of awkward silence as you both look at the menus.

“So, uh, do you come here often?” Heeseung asks, attempting to break the ice.

“Actually, it’s my first time,” you admit.

“I see,” Heeseung awkwardly laughs.

AFTER DINNER, you both step outside into the cool evening air, feeling more comfortable in each other’s presence.

“That was really nice,” Heeseung says, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, feeling a sense of relief that the awkwardness from earlier has faded.

You walk side by side down the quiet street, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

“Do you live far from here?” Heeseung asks, breaking the silence.

“Not too far. Just a few blocks away,” you reply, glancing at him.

“Oh I see,” he says, smiling.

As you continued walking, the two of you began to chatter off. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you find yourself laughing at his jokes and sharing your own stories.

“Did you see the sunset earlier?” Heeseung asks, pointing to the sky, which is now painted with shades of orange and pink.

“Yeah, it was beautiful,” you say, smiling at the sight.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Heeseung says, looking at you with a soft smile.

“Me too,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you.

As you reach your street, you both come to a stop.

“Well, I guess this is where we part ways,” Heeseung says, looking a little reluctant to leave.

“Yeah,” you say, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

“Thanks for tonight, YN. I had a great time,” he says, stepping closer to you, “Maybe another time we can hang out again.”

“Thank you too, Heeseung. That sounds great,” you reply, feeling a rush of happiness.

YOU DECIDE IT'S TIME TO PUT YOUR PLAN INTO ACTION. You’ve thought through every detail, determined to see if your article concept works in real life. Step one: find an ugly dog and some hideous clothes. You’ve got the perfect ideas in mind.

You meet Heeseung outside his apartment, holding a small, scruffy dog with a face only its owner could love. You flash him a bright smile as he opens the door.

“Surprise!” you exclaim. “I got us a dog!”

Heeseung’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the dog. “Uh, wow, YN. That’s…unexpected.”

“Isn’t he adorable?” you gush, ignoring the bewilderment on Heeseung’s face. “I named him Snuggles.”

“Snuggles, huh?” Heeseung says, trying to muster enthusiasm. “Yeah, he’s…something.”

You place Snuggles in Heeseung’s arms, watching as the dog licks his face with an enthusiastic, slobbery tongue. Heeseung grimaces slightly but manages a strained smile.

“Let’s take him for a walk,” you suggest brightly, grabbing a garishly colored leash from your bag.

Later that evening, you bring out the next part of your plan: an outfit so hideous that it should be impossible for Heeseung to bear. You hand him a neon green tracksuit with orange polka dots and a pair of mismatched shoes.

“I thought we could match!” you say, revealing your identical outfit. “Isn’t it fun?”

Heeseung looks at the clothes, then back at you, clearly unsure how to respond. “Wow, YN. This is…unique.”

“You don’t like it?” you ask, pouting slightly.

“No, no, it’s great,” he says quickly. “I’ll just, uh, go change.”

When he returns, you both look like you’ve stepped out of a bad 80s workout video. You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity, but Heeseung seems to be struggling to keep a straight face.

“Let’s go grab dinner,” you say, linking your arm with his. “I made reservations at that fancy restaurant downtown.”

At the restaurant, the two of you turn heads as you walk in, dressed in your eye-searing outfits. The hostess tries to maintain her professionalism as she leads you to your table, but you can see the corners of her mouth twitching.

Throughout dinner, you do your best to be as irritating as possible. You chew with your mouth open, talk loudly, and insist on ordering the strangest items on the menu.

“Are you sure you want the pizza?” Heeseung asks, a note of disbelief in his voice.

“Absolutely,” you reply, grinning. “And I think you should try it too!”

Heeseung hesitates but eventually nods. “Sure, why not?”

Here you were, sitting on your bed as you write your story. Typing away and zoning out, it had to be working right? He obviously would be over you by next week. All you needed was one more shove to drive him away soon as possible. Just 5 more days..

YOU PUSH YOUR CART THROUGH the aisles of the grocery store, scanning the shelves for the items on your list. As you reach for a box of cereal, you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“YN?”

You turn to see Heeseung approaching, a smile lighting up his face. “Oh, hi Heeseung,” you say with a smile.

“Nice to see you here,” he says, falling into step beside you.

“Yeah, I just needed to grab a few things,” you reply, feeling a bit flustered by his presence.

Heeseung nods, and for a moment, there’s an awkward silence as you both continue browsing. Suddenly, you realize you can’t reach the item you need on the top shelf.

“Um, Heeseung, do you think you could help me with something?” you ask, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Of course, what do you need?” he replies, stepping closer.

“I just need to grab that box up there,” you say, pointing to the top shelf.

“Sure thing,” Heeseung says, reaching up to grab the box.

But as he stretches, you accidentally bump into him, causing him to lose his balance. In a split second, you reach out to steady him, but instead, you end up stumbling backward, crashing to the ground on top of him. Your face merely inches from each other.

“I’m sorry about that!” you exclaim, your face burning with embarrassment.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” he says, his cheeks also flushed as he helps you up.

“Um, we should probably get up,” you say, feeling flustered.

“Yeah, definitely,” Heeseung agrees, scrambling to his feet.

You both straighten your clothes and try to regain your composure, but the awkwardness lingers in the air.

“Well, um, thanks for trying to help,” you say, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Anytime,” Heeseung replies with a sheepish smile. You exchange a quick awkward glance before awkwardly walking back to do your own things.

YOU AND HEESEUNG STEP INTO THE DIMLY LIT MOVIE THEATER, the smell of popcorn filling the air. You’ve been looking forward to this night out, hoping it will help end your plan to drive him away. As you settle into your seats, the lights dim, and the movie begins.

The film is a romantic comedy, and as the story unfolds, you find yourself getting lost in the plot. But when the characters share a kiss on screen, you feel a sudden tension between you and Heeseung.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, and you can see that he’s watching you, his expression unreadable. You both look away awkwardly, feeling a flush of embarrassment.

As the movie progresses, the tension between you only grows. You can feel Heeseung’s eyes on you, and you struggle to focus on the screen, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suddenly, as another kiss happens, Heeseung leans in closer to you. You freeze, unsure of what to do. Is he going to kiss you? But then, almost as if on cue, Heeseung leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. His breath mingles with yours, his warm exhales tickling your skin as he leans in, his lips drawing closer to yours. You can feel the gentle brush of his breath against your mouth, sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. And then, in a heartbeat, he closes the gap between you, his lips pressing softly against yours. It’s a gentle kiss, but hesitant at first, but soon it deepens. You can’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders.

You melt into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his lips against yours. When you finally pull away, your heart is racing, and your mind is buzzing with emotions. You meet Heeseung’s gaze, and you can see the same uncertainty reflected in his eyes.

“Wow,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of the movie.

“Yeah,” you murmur, at a loss for words.

As the movie comes to an end, you both sit in silence, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. But despite the awkwardness, you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between you.

As you leave the theater, you can’t help but replay the kiss in your mind, feeling a sense of warmth and longing that you can’t ignore. And as you walk hand in hand with Heeseung, you realize with a start that maybe, just maybe, you’re falling in love.

AS YOU LIE IN BED THAT NIGHT, the events of the evening replay in your mind. The gentle touch of Heeseung's lips against yours, the warmth of his embrace—it all stuck in your head.

You stare up at the ceiling, think to yourself. Love? It's a word you're not ready to utter, a feeling too intense to comprehend. You try to push the thought aside.

You roll onto your side, pulling the covers tighter around you. You couldn’t be in love? All that effort you put in to get rid of him. It was your 8th day, just two more days. You couldn’t do it anymore. As you drift off to sleep, the question echoes in your mind. Are you falling in love with Heeseung?

THE REALIZATION HITS YOU like a ton of bricks, leaving you feeling breathless. Could it be true? Are you actually falling in love with Heeseung?

The thought consumes you as you go about your day. By the time evening arrives, you can't shake the feeling that you needed to end it.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you pick up your phone and dial your editor's number. When she answers, you get yourself together for the conversation ahead.

"Hey, it's me," you begin, "I need to talk to you about the article."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, and you can almost hear the curiosity in her voice as she responds. "Sure, what's up?"

"I… I can't write it," you admit, the words feeling like a confession. "I just don't feel right about it anymore."

There's a moment of silence before your editor speaks again, her tone firm."No, you're writing it," she says, leaving no room for argument.

"But—" you start to protest, but she cuts you off before you can continue.

"No buts," she insists. "We've already agreed on the topic, and you're the best person for the job. I expect to see the first draft on my desk by the end of the week."

You sigh, feeling defeated. It's clear that your editor isn't going to budge on this issue, and you know that arguing further would be a waste.

"Okay," you say reluctantly, resigning yourself to the task at hand. "I'll get it done."

AS YOU SIT ON YOUR COUCH, trying to make sense of everything that's happened, until you hear Heeseung pick up a call.

“ Heeseung!" Jake's voice crackles through the phone, filled with excitement. "So, have you sealed the deal yet? Win YN over?"

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of your name and you instinctively lean in closer, eager to hear his response. But as you listen, the color drains from your face, and a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach.

"The bet that I could get YN in 10 days?," Heeseung's voice comes through the phone, his words cutting through the air, "I thought I could, but…"

Your heart shatters. Your knees started to shake. How could you have been so blind? How could you have let yourself fall for someone who was playing a game with your feelings?

Before you can hear the rest of his sentence, you leave the room silently. "I thought I could, but…" The words replay in your head.As the reality sinks in, you realize that you may have just broken your own heart, listening in on a conversation that was never meant for your ears. He played with you. He was using you. You feel like a fool, blindsided by the truth that's been staring you in the face all along.

You walk yourself to the nearest taxi before coming back to your empty apartment. You lie on bed, your palms on your eyes, sobbing quietly. Why should you care? I mean he was just an experiment — right?

THE MORNING SUNLIGHT FILTERS through the curtains as you sit on your bed, thoughts rushing through your mind. The wounds from last night were still raw, as you feel tired and sick. You kew what you have to do. You began to type your last paragraph of the article before submitting it to your editor.

With the article sent, you feel a mix of anxiety and relief. You know the revised piece is honest and raw, reflecting your own experience. But there’s one more thing you need to do to truly move forward.

To: Editor Yeseo

Subject: Resignation Letter

Dear Yeseo,

I am writing to formally resign from my position as a writer, effective immediately. I appreciate the opportunities I have had here and the support from the team, but I must prioritize my well-being at this time.

Thank you for your understanding.

Sincerely, YN

You hit send, feeling an overwhelming amount of pain. Being a writer had been your dream job, but now, it feels like a chapter you need to close. As you sit in your now-quiet apartment, you feel a pang of sadness. The memories of the past few weeks with Heeseung linger, but you push them aside.

You start with your closet, pulling out clothes and sorting them into piles: keep, donate, and toss. You take down the photos and posters from the walls, each one a reminder of the life you’re leaving behind.

Next, you move to the kitchen, packing up dishes, utensils, and small appliances. You wrap everything carefully, methodically, as if each item represents a piece of your heart that you’re trying to protect.

Your phone buzzes with messages from Heeseung, but you ignore them. Making them be left on delivered. You move to the living room, packing up books, DVDs, and mementos. You’re not just packing up your belongings; you’re packing up your old life, preparing to move on and start new.

IN HIS DIMLY LIT APARTMENT, Heeseung sits on the edge of his bed, the glow of his laptop screen casting shadows across his face. His heart pounds in his chest as he opens the email attachment—a document titled "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days—And Fall in Love in the Process" by [Your Name].

As the page loads, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to read. The cursor hovers over the first paragraph, and with a trembling hand, he begins to scroll down.

Heeseung sits at his desk, his heart pounding in his chest as he reads the article that has just landed in his inbox. With each word, his emotions spiral into a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

"When I set out to write this article..."

He reads the opening sentence, his brow furrowing in confusion. What article is this? And why does it sound so familiar?

As he continues to read, the pieces start to fall into place. The description of the article, the unexpected turn of events—it's all too familiar, too painful to ignore.

"I met someone who was supposed to be just a test subject..."

Heeseung's breath catches in his throat as he realizes what he's reading. This is about him. About the bet, about the article he overheard, about everything.

He reads on, his heart pounding louder with each passing sentence:

When I set out to write this article, the plan was simple: follow a set of steps to make a guy dump me in ten days. It was supposed to be a fun, light-hearted challenge—a piece to entertain our readers. But life, as it often does, had other plans.

I met someone who was supposed to be just a test subject. But as the days went by, something unexpected happened. The more I tried to push him away, the closer we became. Every awkward moment, every forced argument, every silly plan to drive him away only brought us closer together.

I found myself laughing at his jokes, looking forward to our time together, and, against all odds, feeling a connection I hadn't anticipated. What started as a challenge turned into a journey of discovery—not just about him, but about myself.

I realized that love isn't something you can plan or control. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, breaking down the walls you've carefully built around your heart. And sometimes, the person you're trying to lose ends up being the one you can't imagine living without.

So, dear readers, this isn't the article I set out to write. It's not about foolproof ways to make a guy dump you. Instead, it's a story about how, in the process of trying to push someone away, I found myself falling in love. It's messy, it's unexpected, and it's beautiful.

Life has a funny way of turning our plans upside down. And sometimes, the best stories are the ones we never meant to write.

He closes the magazine, his mind spinning with thoughts of you. He knows he needs to find you, to talk to you, to tell you how he feels. He can't let this opportunity slip away, can't let the chance to be with you slip through his fingers.

With a sense of determination, Heeseung rises from his seat, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows he has to find you, to tell you how he feels, to see if maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way too.

HEESEUNG'S HEART RACES AS HE RUSHES THROUGH THE STREETS, his mind consumed with thoughts of you. He knows he needs to find you, to talk to you, to tell you everything.

As he rounds the corner, he sees your apartment building looming ahead. His steps quicken, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He's so close now, so close to finally telling you how he feels.

But as he reaches your building, his heart sinks at the sight before him. He sees movers loading boxes into a truck parked outside, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that you're moving away.

Heeseung's chest tightens with panic, his mind racing as he searches for a solution. He can't let you slip away, can't let this chance to be with you slip through his fingers. He rushes toward the building, his thoughts jumbled all up.

As he bursts through the door, he sees you standing in the hallway, a suitcase at your feet, tears streaming down your face. His heart breaks at the sight of your sadness, and he knows he needs to act fast.

"Y/N!" he calls out, his voice echoing through the empty hallway. You turn to face him, your eyes widening in surprise at the sight of him standing there.

"Heeseung?" you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "What are you doing here?"

Heeseung takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to say. "I need to talk to you," he says, his voice filled with urgency. "There's something I need to tell you, something I should have told you a long time ago."

He steps closer to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "I was part of the bet," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it was never about winning a thousand dollars or proving anything to Jake. It was about proving something to myself—to prove that I could be the kind of guy who deserves someone like you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his confession, your heart aching with a mix of sadness and hope. "Heeseung…" you whisper, reaching out to touch his hand.

But Heeseung doesn't wait for you to say anything more. With a surge of courage, he leans in and presses his lips to yours, pouring all of his love and longing into the kiss.

As Heeseung's lips meet yours in that soft, tender kiss, his hands gently find their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You feel the heat of his body against yours, the closeness intensifying the sensation of his lips moving against yours. His touch is gentle yet possessive, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as if memorizing every curve of your body.

You pull away, staring and laughing for a moment.

"I love you," you whisper softly.

"I love you more," he smiles back, quietly leaning his forehead against yours to quickly catch his lips on yours again. Maybe writing that article wasn't so bad after all.

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blueeyedgirll · 7 months ago

Text

Sneaking In - Sal Fisher x F!Reader

a/n: this is something i literally think about constantly :)> sneaking out was sal’s idea not yours there’s no delinquency here. unfortunately this is NOT part two of he’d loooove that because to be transparent i don’t know where to go with it! i promise i started it though it’ll come out soon •3•

this fic includes: boyfriend sneaking in trope, rebellion, sal ITCHING to see you, no use of y/n, for some reason you don’t have a screen on your window but whatever, established relationship, smooching, cuddling

The dark, late night sprawls outside as the twinkle of fairy lights keeps you awake. The chatter from the movie you were watching keeps your ears occupied as you consider texting or calling someone to ease the boredom overtaking you.

You settle on your boyfriend, Sal.

You and Sal had been dating for almost a year and a half. You started dating in the beginning of freshman year, and are still together now, halfway through sophomore year. Dating Sal had been nothing short of wonderful. He has always been such a kind and loving person, and it shows in your relationship. You and Sal are the kind of couple that people call “goals,” or talk about because they “need a relationship like that.”

You pick up your phone to text Sal, but upon reaching his contact, you decide to call him instead.

The line rings once, twice, and then he picks up.

“Hey, love. Are you alright? Why are you calling so late?” He says as less of a question for his sake and more to make sure you were okay.

“Yeah, I just missed you,” You respond.

“Well, I miss you too. I’m glad you called.” Sal pauses for a moment and you hear shuffling.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to move Gizmo off my bed so I can lie down.”

You laugh at the thought of Sal trying his hardest to gently move his very large cat off the bed.

“Just pick him up,” You say, realizing that it’s in his nature to be gentle so he likely wouldn’t.

“No, he’s comfortable.” You hear him scoff in frustration and the thunk of him hitting the bed. “I give up.”

You laugh and change the subject.

“Well, what were you doing before you decided to evacuate Gizmo?”

“Honestly… I was trying to study for my history test, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. It was really hard to try to remember what years the American Revolution took place when the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen kept crossing my mind.”

His sudden compliment made you smile.

“Why, thank you. Luckily I wasn’t doing anything productive, because I promise you I would’ve been in the same boat…” You think for a moment. You both really miss each other, so why not make plans for the weekend?

“Sal, I want to see you. Want to hang out tomorrow?”

He pauses before he answers.

“Why wait?”

“What?”

“Why wait until tomorrow? I miss you now.”

You consider his point. You missed him now, too. But the thorough punishment that awaited you if your parents found out hung over you like a storm cloud.

“Sal, my parents will kill me if I sneak out.”

“Then let me.”

“My parents will also kill me if they catch me sneaking my boyfriend in my room in the dead of night. Can’t you hear how bad that sounds?”

“That’s why they won’t catch me. Please, baby? I can be sneaky, I promise.”

You pause for a moment.

You consider.

You decide the reward outweighs the consequences.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then?”

You can hear him silently cheer. “Yes you will. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The phone beeps after the call ends. A rush of adrenaline and emotions flows through you as it fully processes that you’re sneaking your boyfriend in, but the risk just made it that much more fun.

A few minutes pass that consist of you switching between pacing your room and tidying up. You realize that Sal needs to get in somehow, so you turn to leave your room and unlock the back door. Before you could leave, however, you hear a tap on the window.

You throw open your curtains and it is none other than Sal. His electric blue hair illuminated by the moonlight, he stares up at you, eyes visibly crinkled through the eyeholes in his mask.

You open the window to let him in. He smiles up at you and hoists himself onto your windowsill before jumping silently onto your floor. He stops to look around for a moment, then pulls you into his arms.

“We have a door, you know,” You say teasingly.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

You smile at him and draw your hands around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. You reach to the back of his head and unbuckle his mask, and he bows his head to let you.

You pull the mask off of his scarred face and he looks at you longingly with his bright blue lovesick eyes. Before either of you can speak, you both lean into a kiss. His lips meet yours in a unification powerful enough to make your knees tremble. He wraps a hand around your waist and pulls you deeper into the kiss, allowing you to run your hands through his soft hair.

"Wasn't this worth it? And, hey, I bet your parents are still sound asleep. They don't have a clue!" Sal drags out the last few words of his sentence in an excited whisper.

"Yeah, it was. Thank you for coming over."

"No problem. I missed you and it made me really want to see you."

"I can tell."

He smiles at your comment and moves to sit on your bed. You set his mask on your bedside table and follow his lead by propping yourself up on the headboard, patting the spot beside you to urge him over. He sits right next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He's so close that you can feel how warm he is through his sweater and smell his body wash.

He turns his head to give you a kiss on the cheek. You wrap your arms around his waist and fit your head into the spot between his neck and his collarbone, listening to his heart steadily beating.

"I love you," Sal whispers. "I love you, too."

#sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sal fisher x y/n #sal fisher x you #sally face x you #sally face x y/n #sally face

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wyniepooh · 8 months ago

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Coach

patrick zweig has an interesting approach to coaching; it becomes even more interesting when it’s with you.

coach!patrick zweig x tennisplayer!reader. You desperately need a coach to help you, coach zweig seems to want something else 🤘🤘 (and you don’t mind ofc). Mentions of being broke #relatable. I imagine this to be set either before the challengers match, or after, either way works.

If it were up to you, you’d say that the place was a little sketchy.

if it were up to you, you would’ve left the moment you saw the lone beaten up car in the lot and the acrylic chipping off of the concrete ground.

But in the end, it really wasn’t up to you. The continuously decreasing numbers in your bank account was a constant taunt, a bullying reminder that if you wanted those numbers to change— to rise— you’d need a coach to push you into the championships.

Even if that coach choose a training spot that looked damn-near abandoned.

“hey. uh… patrick. patrick zweig,” he extended his arm.

You took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze as you dropped your bag onto the bench beside you. you smiled. “Shouldn’t I call you coach zweig?”

he smiled, chuckling at the ground, then shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. “whatever you want."

he cleared his throat, “so uh… what’s your plan here? I mean- what are your goals? why do you play tennis?”

You pulled out your racket and a couple of balls, setting them on the ground before quickly throwing your hair up into a ponytail. “Why are you coaching tennis?"

His arms crossed over his chest, and your eyes flickered to his biceps for a quick second before returning to his gaze. The silence was long, but surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward like silence usually is. he smiled, and laughed again at your innuendo as he bent down and picked up your racket.

Grabbing the handle from his extended hand, you grinned. “That’s exactly my goal, too.”

You bounced the ball as you walked towards the court, closing your eyes for a moment to feel the sun on your skin. The sun was hot; burning, even, but the wind offered a cooling solace. His crisp voice snapped you back to reality.

“So, let’s see your serve.”

The next hour completely diminished whatever doubts you had about patrick zweig. Despite his rather tattered clothing that proved he was a low-ranking player with no sports sponsorships on his back, and despite his racket that seemed to be slightly crooked— he knew the fucking game.

And he also knew just how to provoke you.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

Hunched over the ground with your hands on your thighs and sweat dripping onto the green floor, you panted, “what?”

“You’re getting sloppy. Having stamina is crucial to the game, you know.”

You chuckled. “I can keep going. No problem.”

“Then prove it," he tossed you another ball, your slippery hand barely catching it in time, "come on, keep going."

Your next hit bounced off the net. Your next serve was out. After the ball attacked the net yet again, you threw your racket to the side, curses spilling out from under your breath.

“Thought you could keep going?”

“Give me a break," you muttered as you crouched down to stretch your legs that didn’t need stretching.

“No.”

you groaned. “come on, coach, I’m in a slump. Give me five and I’ll get back on it.”

“You don’t get to slack off in a real game. And based off of how gently you just threw your racket, you probably can’t afford to, either.”

Your body snapped up. “the fuck did you just say?”

He laughed lightly, raising his hands up by his head defensively as he walked closer towards you. You mirrored his movements, stepping closer until all that separated the two of you was the net, flowing freely with the wind.

“Look, all I'm just saying is, I don’t usually get many students signing up to experience my coaching. Not because I’m not good," he swatted his arm as he spoke, his other arm using his racket as a cane, "fuck no, but because my going rate is pretty low. the lowest, even. I’m just making an observation.”

You rolled your eyes, furrowing your brows slightly as you rested your hands on your hips. patrick had a grin about him, a stupid, annoying smirk that almost made you believe he knew something about you that even you, yourself, didn’t know.

Walking a couple steps closer to him until you felt the harsh scratch of the net against your knees, you whispered, “don’t assume anything about me.”

Your eyes subconsciously fluttered to his nose, then his lips, before coming back up to his eyes. smoothing out your brows, a layer of subtle desire spread behind your stare. you muttered, “Maybe I wanted you to coach me simply because I like you.”

His expression softened with feigned surprise. “Oh, do you now?” His face came closer to you.

you finally had an opportunity to ponder over his face; his messy stubble all unkempt and long, the sweat on his forehead soaking his dark curls so perfectly on his face. or a moment, you weren't sure of where to go or what to do. In the end, he broke the stare-off with a murmur, “show me how much you like me, then.”

you didn't know if the heat spreading to your face was from the bright sun, his words, or from the blooming ache in your stomach. Either way, you stepped back with haste, grabbed another ball and prepared to serve.

A loud grunt came from you as you made your hit, and patrick reciprocated your energy, returning the ball with the same brutal force and speed.

Maybe he did poke at a sore wound. Yes, you were broke and young and desperate, but wasn’t he in the same situation? did he think you wouldn't notice the absolute state of the rented court and his shabby shoes?

But whatever it is that he did, it worked. Your feet were off the ground in an instant, and you heard the smack of the ball against the concrete before you even saw it. When you came back down, you immediately became aware of the sweat dripping down your face, your back, your legs, and the absolute relief of it all.

“There it is.”

You looked up. Patrick was smiling, widely, with that same old grin, like he was so proud that his trick had worked. as you began walking off the court, you couldn’t help but laugh, albeit dryly, at the whole situation. grabbing a towel from the bench and swinging it over your shoulder, you chimed,

“Hey, uh… coach, how much are you charging again?” you looked down at your feet, fidgeting nervously with your fingers as you mustered up all your strength to meet his eyes.

you tried to hide your shock when you finally turned your head to look at him, catching the sparkle of blue and a hint of something else in his eyes. he was standing close, really close, close enough for you to smell him and see him and practically feel him.

your eyes followed the movement of his arm as it reached towards your shoulder, his hand grasping one end of the towel and dabbing the fabric against your temple. he dropped the cloth, fingertips dancing over your cheek as he grazed a stray hair behind your ear, barely breathing a response,

“How much are you willing to give?”

a/n: I DO NOT PLAY TENNIS NOR DO I RLLY KNOW HOW IT WORKS. love the art appreciation but I feel like we need to step it up w the pat fics as well so I’m taking one for the team 🫡

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ziggyzolch · 9 months ago

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Queen Bee-atch Ⅰ (Regina George x Reader)

Summary: You, a self-proclaimed loser, are going into Junior year with one goal in mind: Avoid Regina George. Nobody notices you, so it shouldn't be too hard…right?

✮✮✮

Light seeps through the blinds and birds start to make themselves known with their melodic chirps. Aggressive rustling can be heard from outside your door as you throw a mini tantrum on your, now ruffled up, sheets. Sleepless nights weren't new to you, but they don't get any less frustrating. You stare at the ceiling for a good 30 seconds before finally pushing yourself off your bed. Walking to turn off the air conditioning, you trip over god-knows what and fall flat on your face. The first day of junior year and you're already contemplating ending it all, on the floor of your dump of a bedroom, laying next to a-

"My mascara!", you exclaimed as you sat up. You lost that thing ages ago. You get up, taking the mascara with you and make your way into the bathroom. Becoming a junior wasn't anything you cared for. After sophomore year, the illusion of high school you created in your head had melted away, leaving behind a hollow teenage girl that just wanted to get it over and done with.

Putting away your mascara, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your mirror. A bed-head ridden girl with deep eye bags, which only seem to become more obvious with each passing day, stares back at you. "God, I look horrific," you thought out loud. A habit, in hindsight, you needed to rid yourself of. Going through your morning routine, you think about the coming school year. 11th grade! Will this be the year you reinvent yourself? You could completely change yourself; The way you walk, talk, act, and dress!

...

Who are you kidding.

After successfully poking your eye with your eyeliner three times, you're done. You peak your head out your bathroom door, glancing at the cat-themed clock you've had since you were a baby. It's 8 am. Classes start at 8:15. Curses fall out of your mouth. Did time warp halfway through your routine or something? Running out of the bathroom you quickly change into your clothes, a worn out band T-shirt and black cargos. You can hear your mother cursing at you from downstairs as you make your way out your room. "You're going to be late on your first day, seriously?" Your mom deadpans as you reach the bottom of the stairs. "Whatever, mom, they don't even care."

Walking to school instead of letting your mother drive you was probably not the best idea, but you're too far from the house to care right now. You turn the final corner and arrive at your final location, North Shore High School. Approaching the doors, you can already make out two students face-mashing each other through the window.

✮✮✮

You've been a student at North Shore since freshman year, but anyone could mistake you for a new student, if they even noticed you that is. You pride yourself in being able to blend in with the crowd. This school was filled with losers, so you fit right in. They had already been assigned, so you made your way through the various cliques grouped up in the hallways and to your locker. As much as you hated this place, it's what you're used to. You'd have a hard time adjusting to a new high school, at least at this one you knew who to avoid. You don't even think about it anymore since you don't run into them much- nevermind. "Watch it, freak!"

Great, of anyone you could've bumped into, it's the queen bitch, Regina George. "Whatever." you mumbled and began to walk away when you were pulled back by your bag and shoved back into the lockers...hard. "This is the part where you apologize, Gerard Way." she spits at you while holding the straps of your backpack. A bit of black eyeliner and suddenly you're emo at this school. She was a couple inches taller than you, making it all the more embarrassing, looking up at her. Wriggling around proves unsuccessful. Is there a gym-bro buried beneath her layers of pink and pretty or something? Getting out of her grip doesn't seem like a possibility, so you begrudgingly mumble out a "Sorry..."

She stares at you for a few seconds too long.

"Uhm...can I go now?" You ask. "Yeah uh, sure, whatever." She finally lets you go and storms away towards her group of all-mighty "biatches", or "Plastics" as some (mainly Damien and Janis) call them.

So much for not being noticed.

✮✮✮

A/N: this is my first time writing, so any constructive criticism would be great! forgive any awkward wording or corny-ness. There are more chapters up on my wattpad and ao3, same username for both. @ziggyzolch

#regina george x reader #regina george imagine #mean girls imagines #mean girls 2024 #fanfic #wlw #regina george #mean girls #renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #regina george x you #mean girls the musical #regina george is a lesbian #wlw fiction #regina george icons

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douceurrrr · 2 years ago

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𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐲

— the nerd with the big cock finally loses his virginity

warnings | unedited raw material, face fucking, spanking, doggy,fingering, breeding, first time, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

a/n | inspired by this audio link

you agreed to study this big test with ethan because he said that he knows a good way to study for the test and to be honest you didn’t really know how to study for the test, it was just too much to study but ethan insisted on helping you. ethan didn’t know where he found the balls to ask you to come over to his dorm to study but he did not thinking you were going to come anyways, a girl like you would never be around a guy like him he thought.

meanwhile ethan is chilling in his dorm until he heard a knock on his door, he walks over and opens it to see you with two binders labeled biochemistry on them. “oh hi, I didn’t really think you were going to come.” he sounded so surprised. “I needed help, didn’t i?” you replied with a smirk, letting yourself look behind him and in his dorm, you could tell he was very neat and clean. “I know you said you needed help studying but I didn’t think you would actually show up.” he nervously chuckled with his hand behind his head.

“are you busy or something? because I can totally come another ti-”

“no!”ethan cuts you off but instantly speaks again. “I mean no, you’re fine, I’m so happy you’re here.” he says, daydreaming a bit but realizes that you were still standing there. “oh sorry, please come in.” he says, stepping aside to let you in. “my uh roommate, chad isn’t here so it’s just us.” ethan says.

“chad as in meeks?” ethan rolled his eyes knowing he instantly lost a chance to hook up with you. “I know, it’s such a coincidence that they put the jock and the nerd together.” he huffed making you laugh a bit which was all he wanted to hear. “but in all seriousness my roommate is nice, he’s just never here.” ethan explains.

“oh um I’m sorry these dorms are so damn small, you can sit on my desk and I’ll sit on the couch?” ethan says making his way to the couch, his curls bouncing with each step. “actually I think I should sit next to you?” you wanted to be closer to ethan. “oh yeah sure, you can sit next to me if you want.” ethan replied with hope still in his mind that you are the slightest bit of attracted to him.

“yeah I forgot my laptop.” ouch that hurt. “oh yeah you want to sit next to me so we can share my laptop.” he nods as the hope that he had vanished but actually you just wanted to be close to him. you move next to him on the couch, getting closer and closer so you can “see the screen”

as you got closer and closer ethan felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry, am I too close?” you said with your eyelashes fluttering at him. “uhm no, get uh as close as you need to.” ethan says, stumbling over his words. after a couple of minutes of silence Ethan notices you shivering a little bit which made his heart swell up to the thought of your discomfort, it’s not like you can get anymore closer to him because you two were basically hip to hip. “hey are you cold- here let me just.” you felt a arm slide onto your shoulders making you warm up a bit.

“is this comfy?” ethan says, voice laced with concern. you nodded. silence washed over the two of you and you can’t bear the tension anymore so you did the unthinkable and placed your hand on ethan’s thigh, hoping you’ll get to your goal. ethan felt a hand on his thigh and instantly sucked in his breath at the feeling. “a-are you hands still cold or something b-because your hand is pretty close to my uh cock.” ethan stutters while staring at your hand that was close to his erection.

“I’m sorry, is this fine?” you replied, acting like your gesture wasn’t intentional. “oh no no it’s fine it’s just uh your hand is pretty close to my erection a-and I don’t want it to uh shock you- oh now your touching it.” he says changing the subject once he felt you actually touch his bulge. ethan’s breathing starts to change and beads of sweat starts to form on his forehead. you see his facial expressions and instantly think that you fucked up, fuck he probably think I’m some sexual assaulter.

“t-that actually feels pretty good.” he breaths out and relief washes over you. you start to realize what you were feeling was pretty big making your eyes widen at the feeling. “a-all that is your erection?” no fucking way. “yes all that is my erection.” he replied with a gulp of his throat. then without thinking you asked, “c-can I see it?” ethan’s face turns beet red at your choice of words.

“y-you want to see it?” ethan says in disbelief. you just nod, not trusting your mouth anymore. “um well I guess you can see it.” he says, slightly nervous. he’s nervousness makes you a bit uneasy but it clicks in your brain, “are you a virgin?” ethan instantly babbles words. “what?! no I’m not completely a virgin.” what does he mean by “not completely a virgin”

“what do you mean by not completely a virgin?” you say, making air quotes with your fingers. “what do I mean? uh I uh tried with a few girl but uh my dick is just so big that I could never get more than just the tip in.” right when he said that you bursted out laughing. “are your joking?” you laughed while ethan says “no I’m not joking- why are you laughing.” you thought ethan was trying to be cocky with you but he wasn’t joking the slightest.

“so im not a virgin, s’just no one has been able to take it all before but uhm you still want to see it?” ethan says with you following with a nod. ethan puts his hand on his belt but pauses to say one more thing, “just don’t laugh, m’kay?” ethan says waiting for a confirmation, you mumbled something along the lines of scouts honor then tells him to get on with it. the sounds of a buckle unbuckling fills your ear as you watch ethan unbuckle his pants, he lift his hips to shove down his pants but waits a little to pull down his boxers, he takes off his boxers, he’s cock springs out of his boxers on it's own, slapping the skin of his stomach, you stared in awe.

“don’t laugh.” he says but noticed your lack of words, he’s huge. “s-see this is why I knew this wasn’t going to be a good idea.” ethan says and start to pull his boxers back up only for you to quickly stop him. your next words blows him away (pun intended) “I want to suck on it.” you say without thinking. “w-well you’re more than welcome to- AUH.” he didn’t have to tell you twice, your lips wrap around his head, sucking hard as your tongue flicks over his weeping slit. “oh god, you’re so good at that.” he groaned as you smirk up at him, before your head bobs down

“fuck that’s amazing.” he whimpers as the sounds of your mouth and spit clashing together fills the dorm room, thank god his roommate was away. “please don’t try to- shit- take it all.” ethan pleads. you then pulled away to let him know you were going to deepthroat him and of course he insisted that you shouldn’t. “it’s okay you don’t have t- SHIT.” you cut him off by pushing your head all the way down until your nose nestled against the light brown bush at his pelvis. his whimpers and moans increases every two seconds.

“f-fuck i can feel the back of your throat.” he grunts. every once in a while he’ll let out fuck baby or take that cock. later on you went to the extreme of fucking your face which he really insisted on not doing because he didn’t want to hurt you but soon enough he complied. “fuck you like this, don’t you?” you hun in response, sending vibrations through his cock making him extra simulation. soon enough his moans turns into m’gonna cum’s but you instantly stopped.

ethan eyes shot open. “why’d you stop, I’ve always wanted to cum down someone’s throat before.” he huffs in frustration but you had a better idea. “I want to sit on it.” you say, boldly. “oh? well uhm- no it’s just too big, I’ve tried this before and it’s just too big.” he says but you were already in the process of taking your pants off. “awe no don’t take your pants off, this is a bad idea but..” he trails off once he sees you bra. “well I guess you can try but s’just- just too bi- gosh you’re so wet.” you we’re fully naked next to him. “um before we start, can I just play with your pussy first?” he says softly while staring at you. you were sitting next to him with you legs apart, slightly leaned against the couch all comfortable.

“here- why don’t I just stroke my cock while I..” he trailes off to slide his his head down your stomach and onto your swelling clit. “you like that?” he says after hearing your whimpers followed with a nod. “I uh had to get good this- playing with the clit, swirling, flicking, rubbing so just uh lay your head on my shoulder.” he says and you complied, laying your head on his shoulder while he stroked his cock and play with your clit at the same time. soon enough he begins to slip a finger inside, saying how good it feels. “are you getting close? would two fingers help?” you instantly nod before his begins to slide another finger in but you needed more. “more please.” you whimpered.

“uhm you can try to get on it but I don’t th- FUCK.” you straddled him and guided his cock to you soggy cunt, pressing him in. you pussy sucks him in inch by inch. “just tell me if it’s too mu- holy shit it’s going all the way in fuck.” he watches as your pussy takes him whole and bottoms out. he babbles about how amazing you are as you start bouncing on him with a visible bulge poking out your belly. sounds of skin and fluids slapping together fills the room as your tits bounced in his face. his hands comes around to grab your ass and hips like he’s guiding you. “gosh you’re so beautiful- fuck.” he says before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“yes yes yes fuck!” you yelped but still being mindful that you’re in a dorm. suddenly you feel ethan stop you. “wait wait, can we do it doggy, I want to see my dick going in and out of you.” his filthy words made your pussy clench making him wince. you gave him the okay and he turned you around on the couch. he aligned himself back to your pussy before pushing it in. “fuck you’re amazing.” he mumbled underneath his breath as he bottoms out. he grabbed your hips to start thrusting and you were close again. “fuck are you close again? please cum.” he pleads, bringing his hand around to play your clit to simulate you more. “shit ethan fuck!” you yell into the couch pillow which was muffling most of your cries. after a couple of good, pounding thrust a wave of ecstasy washes over you as ethan walks you through your orgasm with his along the way.

“fuck I’m close.” three words he thought he would never say with a girl. after two thrusts he cums in you, cum painting your walls. “I came in you, is that okay?” he says whilst trying to catch his breath. you couldn’t speak so you mumbled an uh uh of approval. he then turns you around and pulls you in a long awaited kiss with his hands around your waist and yours around his neck.

“be mine.” he whispered in you ear. you grinned.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #smut #ethan landry x oc #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x black!reader #fanfic #ghostface #ethan landry smut #scream 6 ethan landry #scream 2023 #jack champion

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waiting-for-motivation · 1 month ago

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el clásico

summary: Carlos watches a football game between Real Madrid and FC Barcelona with his beloved girlfriend.

pairing: Carlos Sainz x Reader

warnings: fluff, some suggestive comments, teasing

words: 1002

a/n: this is my first fic since forever, so please be nice <3 (also, I would love some football and formula one requests, just check my rules :)

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

“You should pull your sweater over that terrible shirt“, Carlos whispers into his girlfriend's ear, suspiciously eyeing the emblem on her chest. He wears the jersey of Real Madrid with pride, while he can only smirk at the FC Barcelona tricot, which (Y/n) is wearing. As they look for their seats, Carlos catches a few people taking a look over their shoulder at the odd couple. Their interwoven hands are a hard contrast to the two hostile football clubs.

“Not before you take yours off“, (Y/n) comments, smiling innocently as she manages to move a hand under her boyfriend's shirt, lifting it a bit and therefore revealing his toned abs. Both laugh as Carlos fights her playfully, caging her in his strong arms and pressing her face to his chest, right against the Real Madrid emblem.

They find their seats just in time for the players to walk onto the pitch. The atmosphere in the stadium changes, everyone seems to hold their breath until loud cheers and clapping disrupt the peace. Although she barely sat down, (Y/n) jumps to her feet, pointing out every single player of Barcelona.

Carlos is mesmerized, not by his favorite club, more by his girl. His mind goes blank, staring at the passion she radiates. This kind of love, shown by a big smile and bright eyes, is usually only directed towards him. Now, seeing this unfiltered, Carlos takes no shame in gazing at his girlfriend's happiness. She is as magnificent as ever.

“Carlos?“, (Y/n) asks, confused why her boyfriend is not at her side, still seated with his big brown eyes only on her. Gratefully, Carlos takes the hand his girl is holding out for him. Standing up, he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her as close as possible. Side by side, they cheer for their teams. By the time the game starts, they sit down and watch with great concentration.

“What about our little bet, mi corazón?“, Carlos asks after some time, just as a foul interrupts the game. There is a mischievous smirk on his lips as he eyes his girlfriend. (Y/n) turns to him with an unimpressed expression, already knowing what he is hinting at. The drive to the stadium was mostly overshadowed by a discussion about who would win tonight.

“This won't end well for you, Car. You are a sore loser“, (Y/n) returns, taking one of his hands and placing a soft kiss to it. This did nothing to soothe his hurt ego, only causing Carlos to lean forward and place a featherlike kiss right under her ear.

“Who said I would lose? I‘m looking forward to ripping that jersey off you, bebé“, Carlos says under his breath and against his girlfriend's neck. He presses one last kiss to her skin, then turns his focus back to the pitch. Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) can only try to hide how flustered his words made her, then following his lead and watching the football game.

Over time, and with every goal for FC Barcelona, the cheeky comments coming from Carlos stop. The sight of his girlfriend cheering and clapping for her club triggers a bittersweet feeling in the pit of his stomach. Frustration follows, less because of Real Madrid's defeat, more because of the bet he is losing.

"Car", (Y/n) whines at the miserable state of her boyfriend, who is even pouting after the fourth goal. To comfort Carlos, she simply takes his arm and hugs it to her chest, resting his big hand on her thigh. He is a simple man, physical touch is what soothes his sorrows the best. Even better are kisses, so (Y/n) decorates his face with numerous of them.

Half of the stadium screams out of euphoria, while the other stays silent when the game ends. A few players fall face first onto the pitch, out of pure exhaustion. (Y/n) jumps to her feet, for a few moments not minding her grumpy boyfriend, simply enjoying the ecstatic atmosphere. Still, this excitement is not the same when she can't share it with her favorite person. Turning towards Carlos, seeing him sit there with his arms crossed before his chest and a deep frown between his brows, she quickly pulls him to stand next to her. Somehow, she forces him to clap, jumping up and down at his small smile.

Carlos feels grateful for his girlfriend, because although his favorite football club just lost, she manages to put a smile on his lips. Her presence alone can make his worst days to the best he ever had.

"That was a good match, mi corazón", Carlos says with a low voice, kissing the top of her head. With one arm wrapped around her waist, they leave their seats behind and the loud cheering of the crowd. Both are relieved the moment they sit in their car, taking deep breaths to calm down after the eventful evening.

"So about that bet...", (Y/n) starts with a smirk forming on her lips, followed by a giggle. Before Carlos can start the engine, he throws a wide-eyed glance towards his girlfriend.

"Now you want to talk about the bet? Now that you won?", Carlos asks with a louder voice, yet not annoyed at all. They did not agree on anything in particular regarding the bet, so he is rather suspicious what (Y/n) will suggest. He for sure knows what he would have done to his girl tonight if he had won.

"You cook something for me first. Then I want that jersey of yours gone", (Y/n) whispers in a seductive voice, leaning over the control panel she grins him straight in the face. The chuckle coming from Carlos only encourages her to press her lips to his. The kiss is quite short, although Carlos would love to deepen it after this nerve-racking evening.

"I can't kiss you with that shirt on. Sorry, mi amor."

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #formula one x reader #formula one

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 1 year ago

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I Know it Won’t Work || Tom Blyth x singer!reader

Summary: You and Tom break up after three years of dating and you perform a song about the truth of the breakup for the first time live.

Warnings: slight age gap, reader is 23 and Tom is 30

Wc: 658

A/n: these r addicting to make lol. Also, changed up some lyrics for the sake of the storyline making sense. 2/4? Fics I’m posting today!

Tom Blyth x singer!reader au masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

You let out a shaky breath, "I left you here, heard you keep the extra closet empty," You sing the first words of your unreleased song to the crowd. "In case this year, I come back and stay throughout my twenties, what if I won't? How am I supposed to put that gently?" You had just freshly turned 23 and broken up with Tom.

You honestly don't know how you ended up here, in-front of a crowd of hundreds in London. Performing in front of people was the last thing you wanted to do at the moment but you had to keep a strong front for your supporters, this show was highly anticipated.

"I've had the thought, tried to work it out through anxious pacin'" Your biggest coping mechanism was writing songs. You never knew how to really express your emotions in sentences to someone, so instead, you write them into songs. Your real feelings and emotions laced into words that in the end, formed a song.

"But it's a lot, all the shine of three happy years fadin'" The crowd watched in silence, partly because it was a new song and they did not know the lyrics to sing along, but also because they were mesmerised. Your voice held so much emotion.

Your fans weren't aware that the two of you have broken up, but a few had already pieced it up. "The whole facade, seemed to fall apart, it's complicated." Everyone viewed you and Tom as the power couple, deeply in love with one another with no flaw or doubt in the relationship

While half of it was true, the other half wasn't. The seven year age gap different had been brought up so many times throughout your relationship. You remember the first time the two of you got together, you were 20 and he was 27.

You both received heavy backlash from the internet but the two of you ignored them all. They weren't the ones in the relationship, they weren't the ones to make the call about whether or not you should be together.

"And part of me wants to walk away 'till you really listen, I hate to look at your face and know that we're feelin' different," As the three years went by, uou hoped you weren't the only one in the relationship that doubted a few things. You didn’t want to admit that other people's comments were getting to you. As the three years progressed with Tom, you felt as if you were just both in such different phases of life.

You were still so young in your early twenties and fresh in your career while it seemed that Tom was ready to settle down, marry, and start a family. He would always mention starting a family and you would listen, not really knowing what to say to him.

But recently, you came into terms with the truth that both you and Tom don't share the same feelings or goals at the moment. "Cause part of me wants you back, but, I know it won't work like that, huh?" You loved Tom, parts of you still do. He never did anything wrong, he was everything you could have ever wished for. You like to think of him as the right person, wrong time.

But nothing was going to change the fact that you two were just in different stages of life. Nothing will change the seven year age gap between the two of you. "I know we cut all the ties, but you're never really leavin'"

Tom hasn't left your mind. It would've been easier if he did. But he just couldn't. "And part of me wants you back, but, I know it won't work like that, huh?" Your voice slightly cracks, a single tear drop runs down your face. Eyes closed, you let it. The dewy stream your tear left—accentuated with the bright lights focused on you—did not go unnoticed.

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humanitys-strongest-brat · 2 months ago

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Kintsugi - ch.4

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: themes of injury, depression, and hopelessness. 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni.

wc: 3.5k

a/n: You all know the drill, thank you @tobbi-loves-levi for going over this chapter with me and helping me make it everything I wanted 💗

previous / masterlist / dividers

An inviting herbal scent fills the air in Levi’s office, complemented nicely with a warm room temperature. While outside it’s quite hot around this time of June, the center is pretty consistently freezing; especially the ice rink. The printer whirls behind Levi’s office chair while he leans back with his arms stretched out to catch the papers as they slide out. He gathers them together, tapping them once on the desk before flipping open your file and placing them at the back. The start of your fifth week means you’re more than halfway through your estimated treatment plan with Levi.

Levi spins the folder around so it’s facing you and scoots his chair in to lean over it, using his pen to point out specific milestones you have reached. “I think we should change our Wednesdays to off ice days for the remainder of our sessions.” He mentions as he flips through the pages. “Keep Mondays and Fridays as our rink days. Sound alright?” You nod in agreement, following Levi's pen as he goes through a loose schedule of goals he wants to reach over the next couple of weeks.

“Sign here, then we can head down.” He double taps the signature line. “Oh, and you might want to think about reaching out to Tarasov again if you’re serious about getting involved once skating season begins.”

You hadn’t considered how fast the time has gone by. Skating season starts in July and your sessions with Levi are on route to wrap up in just a few weeks. You should be happy, everything you worked for is starting to pay off and soon enough you’ll be working on getting back into competitions. Bit by bit all of your goals are being met, so why does your heart ache for more time?

“You coming, or did you want to spend today’s session staring at my desk?” Levi asks. You’re not sure how long you went without responding to him.

Your mind is elsewhere for the beginning of today’s session while you did your warm up basics, up until you had no choice but to put all of your mental energy into your target goal for today. Levi has you do Waltz jumps until you could do them with your eyes closed. By the time you move onto spins for the rest of your time, you think if you had to do another waltz you’d pull the hair out of your head. That’s the thing about Levi, he understands when something’s too much to handle but once he’s sure you can do it he’s not so easy on you. Funnily enough it’s one of your favorite things about him, and one of the leading reasons you can say you're making progress. He won't let you give up.

***

On Wednesday you show up early again to watch Levi skate. Even though you know you won't be on the ice today, it’s still nice to be around it. Your fear of being turned away fades when he sees you standing at the boards and continues on with his routine anyways. Erwin shows up shortly after you and stands to your left. You can't help but be curious about him. He and Levi seem close, in fact you’ve never really seen Levi talk to anyone casually outside of erwin.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to start talking, neither of you taking your eyes off Levi. You learn that Erwin is a personal trainer based in the basketball wing of Sina, though he takes clients of any sport. He met Levi seven years ago when he first started working here because surprisingly enough, he’s a huge fan of ice sports. Soon you come to find that Erwin and Levi are a lot closer than you originally assumed. They even hangout outside of work too, though as Erwin put it, “it took some convincing.” With how reluctant Levi is to open up, you believe that.

Levi finishes off with three consecutive jumps before gliding off towards the rink’s exit to get out of his skates.

“He adds one member to the audience and suddenly pulls out the big moves. Show off.” Erwin huffs out a laugh and thanks you for the pleasant conversation before turning and heading off.

Off-ice starts off as it usually would, stretches, ankle exercises, balance board, and spinners. Somewhere down the line you and Levi were practicing throws again. You don't know how it happened but you don’t care. It’s productive because it still helps you build back the skill of landing on your ankle and get used to the feeling of air time again. You slowly work on adding more rotations before landing and eventually Levi feels more comfortable throwing you higher.

You dont think you’ll ever get tired of the feeling of Levi’s hands on you. It feels safe, he makes you feel light. No matter what, you're confident Levi would never put you at risk for another injury. There's no wiggle room in competitive figure skating. Everything has its order, but it doesn't feel that way with him. In a way you almost feel like he sets you free from that mindset. Even if it’s only for a small chunk of time each session. The following week, it’s now just an unspoken part of your routine.

***

You quickly learn that time is not a generous thing, the whole next week of sessions goes by much faster than you expected. You blame this on the fact that the more you worked with Levi the better you were getting. Once you started to get a handle on skating again after so much time off the ice it started to become more fun rather than something you needed to do to heal.

Every day that week, you showed up to watch Levi skate before your sessions. When you weren’t completely mesmerized by him, you took the opportunity to watch his form in real time rather than how he would present it to you during therapy. You think that helped you get things down as quickly as you are.

This week marks the beginning of your last two weeks with Levi, and it’s all that you think about. That’s only six more sessions, two of which aren’t even on the ice. It’s not that you didn't think you were ready, no, you know you are. Levi has talked enough sense into you the last couple weeks to have you sure of that, paired with your progress he showed you in your file. It’s clear that you are recovering and building your skill back to how it was before your accident. It was scary to think about doing this without Levi, you still haven’t taken his advice on reaching out to your old coach. The second you do that it will just feel that much more real. You know how irresponsible it is to put off too, which only made it worse.

Monday you show up to watch Levi skate as usual, quickly noticing that Erwin isn’t here. When he sees you he skates over to the board to greet you, which he usually doesn’t do. When he meets you at the boards he’s quiet for a moment, you can’t quite read the subtle expression on his face.

“Do you want to come out here with me?” He asks, his question throwing you off a little.

“What, like early?” You ask.

“No,” he pauses, brows furrowed lightly. Is he nervous? “To skate.”

“You want me to skate with you?”

“That’s what I said. Hurry up before I change my mind.” He says, pushing off the boards and skating off. That’s all you needed to hear. You pick up your bag and rush over to the bench to put your skates on, triple checking the laces before going out onto the ice with him.

Levi meets up with you in the middle of the rink where you stand. “What should I do?” you ask, feeling lost without your usual directions.

“Whatever you want.” Levi says “Don’t you ever skate for fun?”

You think about it, and you can honestly say that you don't. You haven’t since your accident and even before you can’t think of the last time you went ice skating for anything other than to maintain or improve your skill. “No.” You shake your head lightly.

“Ah,” Levi hums “explains why you’re so damn hard on yourself. You know you should kind of enjoy this right?” His words sink deep, he’s right. You watch him as he zips off, all you can think to do is bits of your program from Nationals. You take out more of the extreme moves knowing Levi wouldn’t want you doing anything you haven’t worked much on during your sessions together.

It’s slow, it’s choppy, but you landed everything you attempted. You stayed balanced on your ankle every time you tried, but it’s so hard to be reminded that it’s not the same. Thoughts creep in swiftly. How could you ever compete again? Especially when even after all the improvement you couldn’t even stitch together a smooth program.

“It’s almost like you don’t need me anymore.” Levi comments as he meets back up with you. You wouldn’t say it outloud to him, but it only made you feel worse. It seems like Levi knows you more than you give him credit for. He doesn’t expand on that thought, but instead he asks if you want to try one with him.

You agree, it would make it fun just like the throws you practice. Levi gives you a sequence that’s easy to follow and of course only includes two of the simpler jumps the two of you have worked on together as of recently. Essentially this is a pairs program, which is entirely new to you.

Levi counts the two of you down to start off together, pushing off in sync you go through the motions with him. He starts off with his hand hovering over your lower back behind you, making sure you stay in line with him. Only when he’s sure you can stay in your path does he pull his hand back, allowing the two of you to go off into your first harmonized spin and jump combo.

After going through the routine two more times it’s almost flawless, even you could tell. You lean over with your hands on your knees “Do you want to try that throw?” You asked through labored breaths, though you were half joking. Levi won’t even entertain it.

“Absolutely not. You need a break anyways.” You catch your breath by the boards with Levi standing across from you, seemingly unphased by the repeated routine the two of you just did.

“Have you ever had Erwin come out here with you?”

“Tried. He says he doesn’t want to become one of my clients.”

You laugh before taking a drink from your water bottle and setting it back down on the ledge. You find yourself thinking over your routine with Levi again, and his words from earlier. You should be having fun skating and it was clear Levi did so you wonder.

“Do you ever miss competing?” You ask him, nervous that he may not appreciate the question.

“Every day.” His answer was not hesitant this time.

“You should get back into it.” You say softly.

“I can’t.” He replies and you can see by the look on his face it’s hard for him to talk about this. He’s being short, but not unwilling.

“Are you kidding? Levi, you’re incredible out there.” Your expression softens as you try to be hopeful, maybe he just needs to hear it from someone.

“That’s not my life anymore.” Out of all the weeks you’ve known him, you’ve never heard him sound so sad. Levi anxiously pulls at the hem of his sleeve before pulling it up and checking his watch “It’s time to start our session.”

You ease off it, watching as he moves to skate towards the center of the rink. For the first time you don’t look forward to your session, the more you complete the more it dawns on you; your time with Levi is almost up.

That’s when it hits you

An idea.

***

Nervous is an understatement. Honestly, you felt like you were driving yourself crazy. When you came up with this idea, you thought it through a million times. It’s the scariest thing because if it doesn’t work out you’re screwed. You couldn’t keep it to yourself, you needed advice, and who better to ask than your best friend.

Mikasa shows up around seven, prepared for your agreed upon sleepover plans made on Monday night with a set of comfy clothes and carry out from your favorite restaurant for dinner. When she let you know Friday night works for her you were thankful the weeks were going by so fast. You let her in and head straight to the couch, where you enjoy the meal while you start the first episode of a new series.

“Well,” Mikasa hums when the two of you mutually decide to take a break from the show. “you’ve been awfully quiet about how it’s going in therapy.”

You smile over at her, turning your body to face her. “Honestly? It was tough at first, I’m not going to lie. It’s a lot better now.”

“So Levi didn’t scare you off then?” She jokes. “He won’t tell me anything, says you’re a client like any other so,” she trails off.

“The opposite actually. He's,” You pause for a moment, breaking your eye contact with Mikasa. “He’s amazing. There’s no way I could have made any of the progress I have without him.” You tell her everything. Your progress in physical therapy, the clever ways Levi challenged your anxiety, even the throws and skating together before your sessions; another thing that became an unspoken addition to your routines with Levi.

“He even opened up a little bit here and there about some of the things he struggled with after his injury.” You mention, and Mikasa’s eyes shoot open. Genuine shock taking over her expression.

“Really?” She breathes.

“Just a little.” You say, shrugging. “I don’t know much, just that it seemed hard. I can’t even imagine.”

Mikasa takes a minute to think about how to respond. “We didn’t see him for over a year. He skipped birthdays, holidays. His mom was sick over it for so long.” Mikasa gets quiet again. “He wasn’t the same for a long time, to this day he won’t speak about it.” It was difficult to hear, but made you wonder why Levi was so different around you. Why would he be more willing to answer your questions over his own family? You were scared more than ever now to bring up the idea you’ve been holding in the whole night.

“It sounds like he really likes you.” Mikasa says. “Seems like he found a friend in you.” It sounds silly, even coming from Mikasa. At the end of the day you aren’t oblivious to the fact that you’re a client of Levi’s, not a friend. As much as you wanted to push back you had more pressing matters on your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” You brace yourself for the words that are about to come out of your mouth.

“Sure,” Mikasa says softly.

“It might sound crazy,” You begin nervously. “I was thinking about asking him to be my coach after therapy is finished. It’s a shot in the dark, but I know I can do it with him.” You can’t help but feel like along with advice, you’re also asking for her blessing.

“I think that’s a great idea.” A warm smile spreads across Mikasa’s face, her eyes lighting up.

***

A long sigh escaped your lips as you plop down on the bench, your whole body surging with ache. Levi had chosen the last week of sessions to work on the more advanced jumps and spins. It was more so to make sure he could send you off to your coach confident that you knew what you were doing, and that you would be able to build your skill back up while training for competitions.

Levi approaches you after he takes his own skates off, bumping your skate with his shoe to get your attention “What’s going on with you.” His tone laced with concern.

“Huh?” You pick your head up, your confusion painted clearly across your face.

“Something’s on your mind. This isn’t the week to lose focus.” He says plainly.

You shake your head, turning your gaze back down and directing your attention back on getting your skates off so there was no chance for him to read your facial expression. Proving him right. “Everything’s fine Levi,” You try to assure him. The truth is, you were trying to wait until the last day to ask him. That way if it went badly you’d never have to face him again. Part of you didn’t even know why you were so worried about it. You set your skate on your lap, dragging a cloth across the blade to dry it before putting it away.

“The past four sessions you’ve been somewhere else. Today you barely even spoke.” His words cut through your chest, you forget how observant he is sometimes. “This is the most important part, I can’t release you unprepared.”

“I didn’t fall once today.” You point out, in fact your session today felt a lot like your regular training. Just practicing to maintain.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” Levi says. “Don’t tell me you’re second guessing about getting back into competitive skating.”

You zip your bag up after dropping your other skate inside, whipping your attention back up at Levi. “No! Of course not.” You assure. Just looking at him hurts a little, you start to doubt your plan. It would uplift his whole career to take you under his wing, it almost felt selfish. You should be able to do this with Tarasov. Hell, she got you to Worlds the first time. You know reaching out to her this late would earn you being scolded for waiting until the last second.

Levi’s knit eyebrows relax and he drops his shoulders, visibly relieved. He stands there for a moment before letting out a sigh and giving up. “Fine, come back on Wednesday more sharp.” He turns around and heads off towards the door, picking up his own skate bag as he walks past it. Panic rises to the surface, you wish you could yell out to him, tell him you don’t want to have to do this with anyone other than him. In an instant you decide that you can do just that. You stand up and grab your bag, haphazardly stuffing your feet into your shoes before taking off after him. Your bag swishes behind you every time your shoes hit the ground

“Levi!” You don’t mean to shout so close behind him. He flinches when you grab his shoulder to stop him, causing him to turn and face you. “I lied, sorry.” you start.

“Alright. So what is it?” Levi says, one eyebrow raised as he tenses up slightly under your light grasp.

“Hear me out, okay?” You bite your lip, waiting for his confirmation and continuing when he tilts his head slightly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot- the whole week actually. I think I’ve made so much progress with you, and I know this is our last week,” You aren’t holding back, and no matter how much your body screams to do so you don’t look away from him. “And I don’t need an answer right away, it’s sort of a big deal so-“

“Spit it out.” He cuts you off, his puzzled look now replaced with one of nervousness, eyes wide as he looks directly into your eyes.

“Levi, please will you be my coach?” You say it, finally able to catch your breath from the combination of sprinting after Levi and rambling with no breaths in between. “Like my real coach, after we finish therapy.”

Levi stares at you, his jaw slack. He almost looked.. appalled? You wish you knew exactly what’s going through his mind.

“I know it’s a huge request, like I said. Think about it.” You try. “I think we could take gold, really-“

“No.” Levi turns his head, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. Like he is physically unable to look at you. Time stands still, this is by far the worst case scenario that you feared.

“Wait..” You say in a hushed tone.

“The answer’s no.” He confirms, lips parted slightly like he wants to say more but nothing comes out. He takes a step back. “Just..I’ll see you Wednesday.” With that he turns completely and walks out, leaving you behind.

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep

@thechaoticarchivist @sixpennydame @saccharine-nectarine @martins-rx

@levisbrat25

#levi ackerman #captain levi #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi x you #Fic: Kintsugi

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quillpokebiology · 6 months ago

Note

You mentioned a couple of times Bisharp and Gallade pair well, do you have any facts or pic on this crossbreed? :0

Yup! Here is one with a Bisharp father!

Pokemon Crossbreeds: Knight

Knight is the name for members of the Gardevoir line whose father's were members of the Bisharp line. The breed was named after their more armored and knight-like appearance. They've been bred by humans for a long time, as both Bisharp and Gardevoir have been by humans for centuries.

Ralts

Knight Ralts gain larger and sharper horns, a split-colored head that has a slightly metallic texture, and a mark on their chest that resembles a chest-plate. Due to the larger and sharper horn, these ralts are able to pick up on emotions easier, which can be overwhelming for them. These ralts are more defensive and aggressive than standard ralts.

Kirlia

Knight Kirlia no longer have flaps of skin resembling a skirt, instead, having fat wrap around their legs which look like pants. They have broader shoulders, sharper horns, and a darker stomach resembling a chestplate. It still follows the defensiveness and aggression of Bisharp, and they are often seen leading packs of Knight Ralts.

Gardevoir

My personal favorite of this line. Knight Gardevoir gain a sharp horn on their head, a green top, green gloves, and a bit longer hair. Knight Gardevoir have been loved for centuries for their mastery over battle and their more serious and knowing disposition. They lead groups of Knight Ralts and Kirlia. Some ancient kings in Galar had a Knight Gardevoir. Mega Knight Gardevoir gain long hair and longer ears, resembling Kingambit more than regular Knight Gardevoir.

Gallade

Knight Gallade gain the crest of Bisharp, border shoulders, extra blades on their arms, and larger hips. Not much changes behaviour wise, as Gallade are already aggressive and noble pokemon, but many battlers love this breed for their extra blades and extra defense. Mega Knight Gallade gain longer ears and a black cape, resembling the hair of Kingambit.

//My designs can be used by anyone if you credit me! Talking about designs under the cut

I had the idea for this crossbreed but I put it in the back of my mind bcuz there was always something new ig.

Ralts was pretty easy to design. It's hair already looks like a helmet, so I just made it look more like Pawniard's helmet. Was gonna leave the helmet primary colored, but then I went hack and gave it two color to match Pawniard's more.

Kirlia was more difficult bcuz it and Bisharp don't have much in common, so I instead just made it more serious looking and gave it the traits I could; like feet, hands, shoulders, and a chestplate.

I traced an old Gardevoir crossbreed I made bcuz I prefer the one I made over the canon one (for tracing at least. Also, its called Chantelaines Gardevoir!). But my main goal was to make it look a bit like those Warrior queens you see. For both Gardevoir and Gallade, I primarily used Bisharp as inspo because it felt right, but I did put Kingambit in there top (the sword mustache becoming long ears, the triangle shaped shoulders, and the markings on the shoulders).

I gave Mega Gardevoir longer hair to match Kingambit's. I also traced an older piece, which was traced from canon, but I just used it for the small edits I made when I made it.

Gallade was nice, and lowkey inspired by Roman Gladiators. Random fact, but did you know gladiators rarely ever killed? It was like wrestling back then, so it would be expensive to have them die, and extreme violence in Gladiator fights was frowned on. There were some cases where murder in gladiator fights were encouraged, but not as many as you'd think. Anyways! I was so happy to fix Gallade's hip wheel bcuz while Gallade may be one of my fav pokemon and I think the hip wheel is a furled up dress, I can still find it weird.

Not much changes with mega gallade, and I kept the OG color scheme. Though, the cap was hard to color since I kept swapping from blue to green to black. Eventually I decided on black to match with Kingambit's hair since it already didn't have a lot of Kingambit traits.

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riotwritesthings · 2 months ago

Text

An Agony We Deserve (Throwing Off Sparks)

WinterIron - M, 3k, WIP - reluctant soulmates, thriller/horror?, canon-typical violence, loss of control, panic attacks

There are legends. Soulmate bonds have started and ended wars, they used to reshape the world without any warning. People would change in an instant, abandon and betray everything, become completely unrecognizable, but those are just legends-

It can’t be-

But they are.

See what happened was. I thought about this post so hard that it broke my writer's block. I have no plan for this, I'm just following vibes and vague ideas and hoping the muse doesn't abandon me. If you're feeling brave, let's see where we end up!

Happy spooky month, here's my interpretation on soulmates as a horror concept.

---

Chapter 1: we locked eyes

Tony manages to slap his hand over the barrel of the handgun just as it levels with his face.

Barnes pulls the trigger.

The sound of it is deafening, hitting Tony like a physical blow, but the bullet stops abruptly when it hits his gauntlet-covered palm. It still stings like hell, but his face and brain remain intact.

Even as he fits his thumb over the slide lock, preparing to pull the whole thing away from the rest of the gun, Tony feels a smirk tug at his lips. He flicks his gaze up to direct his smug look at the rampaging soldier-

The entire world falls away.

Except that’s not strong enough. The entire world shatters in an explosion of razor-sharp pieces that slice through Tony’s mind, through his entire being.

The large open lobby is still in chaos around him, but all of the noise of shouting and approaching footsteps and even the ringing in his ears is suddenly so far away. Like it’s coming from the end of a tunnel, or the top of a well, and he’s falling.

There’s no ground beneath his feet. There’s no air around him, his lungs are collapsing. His heart lodges somewhere around his throat and he can’t breathe-

Barnes has such blue eyes. Cold and fierce but bright, wide, and Tony is lost.

He can’t tear himself away. Why would he?

There is nothing else.

Just the sparks dancing along his nerves and the pull in his chest and the realigning of the entire fucking universe around him.

Tony can’t tell if his head is spinning or if it’s everything.

Where-

What was he doing here? It was important, he knows that, but everything is gone-

All he knows is-

Barnes blinks and the world snaps back into place.

Except it snaps back wrong.

Like the center of gravity suddenly isn’t where it’s supposed to be. All of the colors are wrong, too bright and too rich. The air tastes electric.

Tony drags in a shuddering breath and he has no idea how much time has passed. A second. A lifetime.

Barnes is blinking rapidly now, like he’s trying to wake up.

At least Tony remembers why he’s here. He remembers all of his goals so clearly.

Stop this mess from becoming any more of an international disaster. Help Steve, if he can. Find out the truth.

He still needs to do all of that, it’s important.

His thumb falls away from the slide lock as Barnes lowers the gun. Barnes doesn’t actually pull out of his hold.

They’re still just staring at each other.

Tony needs to- to figure out what the hell happened here and how to fix it-

They need to-

The sound of footsteps are right behind him now, two sets of them, and he doesn’t think.

He spins on his heel, hand raised, and sends off a repulsor blast.

His blood runs cold as Natasha skids back across the polished floor and collides hard with one of the countless scattered tables. Sharon freezes a couple of feet away, staring at him with wide eyes.

He can’t breathe.

Natasha is still standing but she winces as she steps away from the table at her lower back. She hesitates, clearly confused, eyes darting between Tony and Barnes.

Tony doesn’t have any answers for her, even if he could speak. Why did he do that?

He still can’t fucking breathe.

Sharon lunges forward and Barnes’ hand wraps around the bend of Tony’s elbow, pulling him out of the way. Barnes puts himself between Tony and the attacking agent like a solid wall and it feels-

Tony shoves that incomplete thought away with the same vicious force that Barnes shoves Sharon down through another table.

He still feels so off balance. Like he’s waking up from a life-long dream. He’s relieved when Sharon curls around herself with a groan and doesn’t try to get up.

This isn’t right. Tony is supposed to be helping stop Barnes from breaking out of here, not- not looking for the exits-

Natasha is moving towards them again and Tony needs to help-

He needs to help her, he should- he should grab Barnes again, hold him so Natasha can-

Tony can’t even finish the thought. He’s still frozen in place.

None of this is right.

Barnes catches Natasha’s fists just as easily. Tony is all too familiar with the way Natasha swings herself up around Barnes’ shoulders, ready to strike, and he- he can’t-

He needs to-

They need to-

No, fuck. Tony can’t get it together, he can’t think. Everything is still sideways, it's all too bright.

Natasha brings her elbow down hard onto Barnes’ head, and Tony-

Reality finishes shattering around him.

He finally moves and things start to happen so damn fast. He sends out so many pulses of disorienting energy that the heat of the repulsor starts to burn his palm. Natasha hits the far wall and crumbles, and guilt twists Tony’s gut. He doesn’t stop to think.

Barnes' hand wraps around his arm again and Tony follows. More counter-terror agents approach them as they cross the room. Tony repulsors them. Barres takes care of any that get too close. They keep moving.

They have to get out of here.

It’s not until they’re approaching a staircase that Tony stops and says, “No.”

The helicopter is too exposed, too obvious. But Tony doesn’t need to explain.

Barnes goes tense for just a second. His fingers twitch against Tony’s skin. His eyes are fever-bright as he looks at Tony and nods.

So blue. Tony is still falling.

They turn down a hallway. Tony knows the way to the secret service tunnels. Barnes is following him now, hand still wrapped around Tony’s forearm. The contact feels like touching a live wire and Tony’s heart keeps stuttering in his chest. The strong grip feels like a brand, like a shackle-

Unbreakable-

T 'Challa steps into the hallway, blocking their path. Tony’s hand comes up again without thought, palm out and fingers spread in clear threat. He can’t stop himself.

“Stark,” T’Challa says, his eyebrows furrowed, “why are you doing this?”

Tony opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t have an answer. He can’t say it.

Barnes’ hand tightens on his arm the second T’Challa moves, and the chaos resumes. Tony's body moves faster than he can keep track of, than he wants to keep track of. He doesn’t want to think about what he’s- why he’s-

T‘Challa is clearly aiming to subdue Barnes and Tony can’t- he can’t let that- The repulsed burns his palm again, but the prince is quick. T’Challa’s hand swings at his face and Tony can’t dodge it.

He doesn’t have to.

Barnes is there. He grabs T’Challa’s arm with both hands and an audible snap echoes through the empty hallway.

Tony wants to throw up, he wants to stop. Instead he puts his palm to the side of T’Challa’s head and activates the repulsor.

It embeds the man halfway into the wall where he stills with a groan and Tony wavers on his feet. His hand is going numb and every fiber of him is screaming.

He’s still off balance, he still can’t breathe.

But he grabs Barnes by the wrist and they keep moving. Down the hall and then they’re practically tumbling down the dimly lit stairwell. They make it to the service tunnels. The tunnels lead to a parking garage, but the doors are locked.

Somehow Barnes’ gun found its way into his free hand, and Tony lifts it while Barnes works on the lock. When the doors swing open there’s a guard standing in their way, his hands shaking around his own gun.

Tony pulls the trigger first.

The man crumbles, bleeding, and bile rises in Tony’s throat.

Oh fuck, why can’t he stop?

Barnes pulls him along and Tony doesn’t protest when he picks their getaway car. Barnes smashes in the window and Tony hotwires it as easy as breathing. Tony drives.

Within minutes they’re blending into traffic in a nondescript sedan. When his phone starts to ring Tony passes it over, and Barnes crushes it in his metal hand without instruction.

They keep driving.

---

They don’t stop running for thirteen hours.

The entire time, they don’t speak. They don’t need to.

Tony’s stomach is still rolling.

He doesn’t sleep, even when Barnes takes over driving near the end. He’s too tired to consider questioning the rundown farmhouse that Barnes finds near the northern border of Lithuania.

It’s not like he’s been thinking through a fucking thing since-

Barnes leads the way into the one-room shack, and Tony doesn’t let himself think. He watches Barnes drop stiffly onto the worn couch.

Tony is trying so hard not to think.

Everything is still wrong. He’s exhausted but energy is still buzzing beneath his skin. Electric and terrifying. He can taste static on the air and his heart rate is still- He doesn’t-

"What the fuck?" Tony finally bursts, his voice hoarse, “why- what the fuck just happened?”

Barnes doesn’t look up from staring at his own palms. “You know,” he says heavily, “you’re too smart t’ pretend you don’ know what this is.”

“No,” Tony snaps. He spins on his heel and starts to pace. He doesn’t make it more than three steps towards the door before his head starts to pound, his chest pulling tight. So he paces the other direction, not looking over at Barnes as he repeats, "No, there’s no fucking way."

“You got another explanation?” Barnes demands. His breathing sounds ragged, too-quick.

Tony refuses to look over.

"I don’t- how about a mental breakdown?" Tony replies. His own breathing is shallow and shaky. "Why else would I- unless your Hydra brainworm is fucking contagious-"

"Wh- no," Barnes says around a harsh bark of laughter.

“- Then I don’t- something else must have-”

“No,” Barnes says again, "you know what this is."

Tony whirls on him, glaring, but Barnes is still hunched over himself. They’re both breathing too hard, too fast, Tony can hear the air wheezing in and out of his lungs.

It can’t be-

“You helped a fugitive escape custody,” Barnes says flatly, not looking up from his hands. “I was- you broke my orders with a word. Why else-”

“Shut up,” Tony snaps, "I am not your- we are not soulmates." His voice is too loud is his own ears, ringing oddly. “That’s- this shit doesn’t happen anymore.”

It can’t be-

But they are.

Tony makes a strangled sound as the truth that he’s known all along starts to really sink in. He’s not even trying to breathe anymore.

Barnes mutters something under his breath, too low for Tony to catch. Then he repeats it, over and over as he drops his face into his palms, and eventually Tony can make out the words.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

The wave of guilt that crashes over Tony is unexpected and infuriating.

He doesn’t want an apology, not from Barnes- Not when-

Neither of them chose this, but that’s kind of the fucking point, isn’t it? Tony wants an apology from the goddamn universe, not from the man hyperventilating on the shitty couch.

And the worse Barnes’ breathing gets, fast and too deep until his entire body heaves with it, the more Tony wants to- he doesn’t even know, but he can’t-

He can’t stop himself.

Tony marches across the room, his body once again moving without any input from his brain. Like a puppet on strings. Without the adrenaline of a fight it's even more obvious how completely out of control he is.

All that fucking time and effort trying to take back control of his life and his legacy, even if he has been regularly fucking it up, and now this-

By the time he’s standing in front of Barnes his own chest is rising and falling nearly as quickly and Tony hesitates, trailing to a stop. Now that he’s here he doesn’t actually know what to do, he has no plan, all he knows is that it’s physically impossible to do nothing.

Every breath Tony takes burns through his lungs and Barnes is starting to hiccup on every inhale, what Tony can see of his face going ghostly pale.

Tony can only watch numbly as his hands move, reaching out, and not knowing what he’s going to do is fucking terrifying. So he makes a decision instead.

He buries his fingers in Barnes’ wild hair and it feels like being electrocuted. Tony’s grip clenches tighter as a current of something that damn sure feels like electricity flows up his arms. They’ve both stopped breathing entirely. Tony’s chest is too full of something-

It feels-

Barnes doesn’t resist when Tony yanks on his hair with shaking hands, letting Tony pull his face up out of his palms. He lets Tony pull until his head is craned back, loose strands of hair falling out of his face as they stare at each other.

His eyes are wide and bloodshot. Still so damn blue.

"Breathe, stupid," Tony finally manages to wheeze. He has to drag in a shuddering, painful lungful of air before he can add, “I’m having the panic attack right now, and I don’t share.”

The laugh that Barnes chokes out is edged with hysteria. His gaze moves over Tony’s face, looking for something, and when Tony forces himself to take another shaking inhale Barnes follows along.

Tony takes another breath, and so does Barnes. It’s easier than Tony expected, shoving everything aside to just focus on getting air in and out of his lungs.

Maybe because they’re finally touching again.

Barnes’ hair is surprisingly soft. It's hard to ignore, even if Tony is doing his best not to notice. Barnes’ skin gives off a heat that radiates up Tony’s arms, into his chest, and it is slightly loosening the knot of panic wrapped around Tony’s heart.

They continue to stare at each other, breathing in time.

Slowly Barnes raises one shaking hand to grab blindly for Tony’s hip. He holds on like Tony is some kind of life line, wrinkling the expensive fabric. It’s hard enough to bruise and it feels-

Everything is still sideways.

Reality has been pulled inside out, too bright and harsh and messy and it's never going back.

Even the faded colors of the farmhouse are too saturated, the weak overhead lighting nearly blinding. Tony can feel every stuttering beat of his heart through his entire body.

But standing here like this- close- touching-

It feels right.

That thought has barely settled in his mind before Tony is ripping himself away, stumbling backwards. He immediately feels off-balance, untethered, and he nearly trips over his own feet as he retreats the few more steps it takes to put his back against the far wall.

This can’t be happening.

But it is.

Tony is living a legend. He’d abandoned all of his plans the second he’d looked into Barnes’ eyes, everything he’d gone to Berlin to do. He’d betrayed his teammates- attacked Natasha-

His breath catches wetly as bile rises in his throat. He really- this isn’t supposed to-

But it's happening-

All the air has vanished from the room. He can’t breathe again, lungs closing up as he tries desperately to think of any other explanation.

There’s nothing. And even if he could find another reason, he knows-

He knows it's true. He has a-

No-

Tony has to get out of here, go-

Anywhere.

His head starts to pound, throbbing in protest, and Tony groans as he lets himself slide down the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut and thumps his head back against the rough wood, breath rattling in his chest.

He can feel Barnes watching him. He keeps his eyes firmly closed. He doesn’t- he can’t deal with this.

When Barnes finally speaks, what he says is, “Lemme know when you’re done with th’ panic attack, I call next.”

His voice sounds a little better, a little more stable, and it actually sends a bolt of relief through Tony. Followed quickly by a fresh wave of irritation.

“Fuck off,” he snaps back, the words rough and wavering.

Barnes doesn’t reply, and Tony keeps his eyes shut.

He’s not sure which is more upsetting, the very thought that Barnes might leave, or the soul-deep certainty that he can't.

Chapter 2

#my fic #winteriron #starkbucks #bucky/tony #riot writes

96 notes · View notes

marthawrites · 1 year ago

Note

"don't shut me out. please"

I hope it is not too late for me to join the celebration ☺️ Congratulations! 💕👏🏼

Thank you sooososo much! You are such a gem and I appreciate all of your fandom love more than you know! I did my best to include a (one shot appropriate) slow burn, angst, and a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this ride MWAH!

Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word Count: 6.3k+

About: A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

Includes: Chance encounter, age difference (references to Aemond x Alys) mentions of cheating, allusions to cheating, angst, second chance romance, and smut featuring vaginal fingering, possessive sex, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is the longest piece I've wrote in quite awhile - whew! I also feel like it's one of the more ambitious one-shot fics I've worked on/completed. Reader is non-descript. As always, please, enjoy!

read part 2 Between the Covers here

There were two things tied for number one on your five-year goal list.

First, be out of your city apartment (preferably as a home owner and not a renter)

Second, have a dog.

They went hand in hand. One couldn’t happen without the other. So, it was a hard tie and you weren’t willing to budge on either. Until then, to take the edge off your self-proclaimed animal loneliness, you volunteered at a local shelter two nights a week. Mondays and Wednesdays.

While your day job wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or professional athlete – ones that your family pushed you to have while growing up – it still paid decently and had the potential for career advancement. And! You were able to live on your own. Not having a roommate was worth the dry job description. Besides, your boss was fair and most of your co-workers were friendly; a win win, really.

Tonight, Monday, you finished your shift, went home to change, then headed out to the shelter. Even though it was all volunteer hours you valued punctuality and did your best to get there around the same time each night.

“Hey! You made it!” Arryk called out to you when you stepped inside the building. Chaos sparked all around. He did a great job running and maintaining the schedule, and with the help of volunteers alongside regular staff, it was, more often than not, smooth sailing. Tonight, however, it appeared quite the opposite.

“Hey! Yeah, a few minutes later than usual, sorry!” You said as you walked over to him.

He waved a hand brushing off your apology. “No worries. We had a few people call in today. So, since being short staffed we’re definitely running behind. I know you normally help bathe the dogs with Baela tonight, but can I ask you to do something else instead?” He winced slightly with his question, unsure of your answer. He knew how much you loved Baela and cleaning the dogs!

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, crossing your arms. “You know I won’t administer shots. If I could get over my fear of needles I’d be a veterinarian and not an office worker like I am!” You scrunched your brows before one, all on its own accord, arched up dubiously.

“Ha!” He laughed. “No no no, I know. We have six dogs that need walking tonight. And I don’t think Targaryen can handle all of ‘em.”

“Helaena? She’s back?” You asked, eyes bright with surprise.

“She’s still away for that college trip. It’s her younger brother, Aemond. Have you met him before?”

You’d heard Helaena talk about him, of course, but you’d never met him. Shaking your head, you peered around the shelter looking for anyone else with the Targaryen tell-tale silver-blonde hair. No one caught your eye. “I haven’t. But, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver!” He praised. “He’s down the west hall getting them ready. Depending on how long you're here afterward, there might be another couple who could use a second walk. Terriers. You know how they are.”

“Happy to help, Arryk!” He was a good guy. You’d always liked him.

“Aemond’s tall, towheaded as the rest of his family, and has an eyepatch. You can’t miss him.” And with that Cargyll switched tasks and got right back to work.

Turning and walking down the west hall, you were happy to say, chaos began to fizzle out. This hall had the larger dogs; no wonder Aemond wouldn’t be able to walk all six at once. Even with the slow turn of summer to autumn sunset wouldn’t be for another three hours. Assuming all went well you’d be able to walk the second batch of dogs, too.

Down the aisle were five opened doors with each respective dog ready for their walk. Their leashes were hooked onto the door so they couldn’t run amuck. You patted and scratched them, earning yourself more wagging tails, a few happy barks, and some excited licks. Looking to the end of the hall you saw someone who you assumed was your evening walking partner. He was kneeling, talking soothingly to a great big senior hound, while clasping the final buckle of their harness. “Hello, uh-, Aemond?” You called out feeling slightly self-conscious.

Still kneeling, he turned his head to look up at you. Any softness in his single eye quickly hardened to match the rest of his sharp features. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard by your presence; someone he’d never seen calling him out by name. “Is there something I can help you with?” Slowly, in a single fluid motion, he stood up and the aged dog kept his eyes on him the whole time, panting happily.

Whoa. He was tall. And, at first sight, incredibly good looking: dressed in casual black clothes, long silver hair tied into a braid, with a scar along the left side of his face that you had to tell yourself not to stare at. His mouth was a unique shape, too, and you weren’t sure if he was merely waiting for a response or if he was smirking the tiniest pout at you. “Hi,” you said again with a nervous laugh. You told him your name. “Arryk sent me. Said you could use some help with the walk tonight?” ‘Play it cool, dummy. He’s really handsome, so what? He could be a huge asshole. Play. It. Cool,’ your inner voice said.

Did he have a mechanical eye beneath his patch? The way he looked at you, then, made you feel like he read your thoughts. “Ah. I could certainly use the help,” he said smoothly with a small curve of lip, turning his attention to the three dogs at the front of the hallway. “Wanna take those three?” He asked, looping the big dog’s leash around his wrist. “I mean, you can have any of them as long as I get this guy. He’s my favorite.”

Your pulse raced a little too fast. Clearing your throat, you smiled in an attempt to ease the butterflies in your belly. “I don’t mind. Why is he your favorite?” You turned and began to unclasp leashes from their doors; happy tips and taps of claws growing louder at the pups’ excitement.

“Reminds me of my girl at home,” Aemond replied, adoration clear in his voice. “Big and old, a little stinky, a little slobbery. The best kind, really.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet. I don’t have any pets. I get my fix here,” you laughed. Holding all three dogs in one hand, you pulled the door open with the other. Except, it didn’t open. On instinct, you tried again hoping Aemond didn’t notice.

He strode up next to you with the rest of the dogs in tow, smirking at you for real this time, as he said, “it’s a push door.”

You knew it was a push door. Fuck. He gave you a knowing glance over his shoulder as he walked out, waiting for you to follow along.

II.

You didn’t see Aemond on Wednesday and you couldn’t deny your disappointment when you left for the night. Come to find out you two had been volunteering at the same place for months – only on different days. He tended to be there Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Monday had been a chance encounter. One you couldn’t shake out of your head.

Before leaving tonight, however, you took a selfie with Aemond’s favorite old hound. You’d exchanged numbers but hadn’t an excuse to strike up a conversation. Yet. Now, with the selfie as an excuse, you opened a fresh text thread and sent him the photo along with:

Someone missed you tonight!

While buckling up in your car and getting ready to reverse out of your parking spot, your phone dinged with an incoming message:

Very cute. Will you be there on Monday? Maybe Cargyll will assign up walking duties again.

Your belly flipped. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting him to message back – especially so quickly. Before you could stop yourself you sent back:

Yup! See you then?

And he sent:

I’ll find another excuse to be there.

Feeling a little bold, you replied:

Excited to see you again! You have these adorable dimples when you smile. Maybe I’ll see those, too?

When nothing came through for a few minutes, you feared you might have gone too far. It was just a little innocent flirting, right? Nothing bad? And then:

Maybe so. See you Monday.

Smiling, you didn’t send anything back. It’d be your luck to say something dumb and rub him the wrong way.

During your first walk, as soon as the ice broke, you both clicked really well. Hopefully – just maybe – things would flow like that again. The connection you felt, something akin to a liveware, couldn’t have been one-sided. He had to feel a spark of it, too; even if just a little.

You drove home, made dinner while facetiming one of your friends from uni, and when she asked about the spark in your eye you told her about your friend Helaena’s younger brother.

III.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit trilogy was a little silly, but watchable. But you haven’t even seen that?” Aemond asked clearly aghast at your lack of understanding his reference.

Tonight, you both got walking duty again and neither of you complained. And, this time, he regarded you with a softer look in his eye than his original sharp glance. He was dressed in dark casuals again and you hated (loved?) how good he made them look. His hair was in a bun and his eyepatch stayed firmly in place. You wanted to ask him about it but weren’t sure if you should try it yet. Instead, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re making it sound better and better the more you talk about it.”

“That’s because it’s the best.” The dogs pulled both of you along and you had to walk brisker than normal to keep up with them and Aemond’s longer legs. He seemed unaffected by it.

“So, you recommend I watch it?” You asked playfully.

“No,” he started, very serious. “I recommend you read it first and then watch the movies.”

If you had more breath in your lungs you’d have giggled – not laughed, but giggled. Something about the way he said it, and the totally serious look on his face, tickled you. “Will you watch them with me?”

The question appeared to catch Aemond off guard. He looked at you, lingering over your pinkened cheeks and smirking lips, before finally making it back to your eyes. Just when he opened his mouth to say something in reply, a completely unrelated thing stole his attention. Sometime during your bantering you’d made it back to the shelter, and a tall dark-haired woman called out, “there’s my sweet Aemond. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

If you thought Aemond attractive, this woman made him look like any regular ol' Joe. She was elegant, warmed by a late summer tan, and had raven dark hair cascading down her back; truly a vision of enchantment. When she sauntered to him and pressed her body to his, you felt like a voyeur watching the embrace.

“Alys,” Aemond breathed quietly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” she answered as she trailed manicured fingers across the front of his chest.

She had a timeless look to her, the kind that concealed her age. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty, you thought. You really hadn’t a clue. All you knew, now, is that you should finish your task alone.

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Posture tense. “I told you I was busy tonight–”

Before you could stop yourself you cut him off with an awkward wave. “See you later, Aemond.” And, with that, you walked inside before you overheard anything else they might be saying to each other. Turning to glance over your shoulder one last time, you were met with a look of deliberate triumph from Alys; she had the greenest eye you’d ever seen.

It was haunting.

Driving home, you felt stupid. Aemond was just a guy you just met. It was silly to think someone like him would be single and even sillier to think your innocent flirtations would be working on him. You had half a mind to delete his number. Or, at the very least to delete the short message thread of your texts.

Instead of making dinner like you normally did, you called in delivery and facetimed with your friend as you waited. She immediately knew something was off and you were quick to tell her everything that happened.

Twenty minutes passed and you were starting to feel better. It’s not like you two hooked up or even kissed. It was just a chance meeting with playful banter. Nothing to get shook up about. “Food’s here. Thanks for listening to me. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You said as you got up to answer the door.

When all else failed, your favorite food could always make you feel better.

Turning the tv on and sitting down amongst your couch pillows and blankets, you were getting ready to dig in when your phone rang.

Aemond.

Your insides did a weird flip and hunger disappeared entirely from your mind and belly. Should you answer? Let it go to voicemail? Turn the stupid thing off and completely ignore him? Right before the final ring, you decided. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said, immediately sounding relieved. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t yet ready to call it a night with you.”

“It’s no biggie,” you replied. Lying. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything–,” you paused, searching for something else to say to soften the edge of your voice, “–the dogs were getting tired anyway.” God. It sounded stupid even to your own ears.

Aemond sighed through the phone. You wondered if he slid his hand down his face or through his hair. It sounded like he did. “No. Alys is… it’s complicated. She’s my ex and–”

“ –you don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s fine.” Despite it being a phone call, you tried to smile as if it would blunt the dismissal of your tone.

“I mean it,” he said. “I really wasn’t ready to say bye yet. What do you say you skip your regular Wednesday night plans and grab a milkshake or something with me?”

Your insides flipped again but for an entirely different reason this time. You knew it: the sparks definitely weren’t one sided. The firm set of Aemond’s jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders flashed once more in your mind’s eye. Since your break up with your long-term boyfriend you’d been on a few dates, but none of them lead to anything worthwhile. With how you and Aemond clicked, however? This date might lead to something more than a hook-up (or, attempt at a hook-up. Some men truly had no game). “Are you sure…?” You asked after a moment. “You and Alys looked pretty comfortable–,”

“ –I’m sure,” it was his turn to cut you off.

“Alright then. Let’s do it.”

IV.

It'd been two months since your first milkshake date with Aemond – the first of many dates. It was a guilty pleasure of yours and apparently one of his, too!

Your first kiss, first time meeting his elder dog, Vhagar, and first time meeting his family were all memories you cherished.

The more you learned about Aemond’s relationship with Alys, the more you understood it "complicated". Including Targaryen drama, Targaryen business, and a list of other things you had a hard time following. It didn’t matter anymore, though, Aemond reassured you. Things were done between them and he only wanted you; proving it to you with fingers and mouth until you begged for a break.

A lesson you learned from your last relationship – one Aemond learned from his, too – was to be careful with love. As much as you genuinely enjoyed him and his company, a barrier stood between you that neither dared yet to cross.

Love.

Each day you fell for him a little more; you were scared to admit it. The scar of heartbreak healed slowly. Could you truly trust Aemond with that part of yourself? With the very essence of your heart? It’d been two months and you still weren’t entirely sure.

If he felt the same he’d say something, right?

Autumn blanketed the lands with brisk air, rainy days, and rolling fog. As days grew short and nights long, you and Aemond spent more time at your apartment or his quarter at the Targaryen estate. Your apartment was the clear favorite. Living alone had its perks: never having to worry about nosy family or friends who showed up unannounced.

And thank God you didn’t live with anyone else.

"Mmh… fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day. I can't get enough of you. Let me make my girl feel good," he said against your mouth as one of his hands moved up the inside of your thigh. "Are you wet already? I bet you are," he chuckled, fingertips tracing your slit. "Mmm… I knew it. Your clit is sooo needy, isn't it?"

Shit. Those hushed words, the glint in his eye, his rasped tone… you happily indulged him in whatever way he wanted. And him, you. Fingers, mouth, cock, he quickly learned what tricks made you melt.

As much as he loved having you ride him, or bending you over, his absolute favorite was fucking you into the mattress. You sprawled out beneath him, hair messy and fanned out around your head, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingernails on his body… he could never get enough of your blushed face beneath him, trembling and arching as he pushed you to peak after peak.

Your sheets had never been cleaned so often in your entire life.

It was particularly rainy today and you were both finished with everything on your to-do list. Aemond sat on the floor in front of you as you lounged in your overstuffed chair. You told him you'd read the Lord of the Rings as long as he read it to you. He didn't even pretend to be annoyed by your bargain. He read to you from his own collection, claiming he liked the worn feeling of the pages better than a new book's pages.

Like any proper reader Aemond started with The Hobbit. You enjoyed it more than you thought you would. More so than the story, however, you enjoyed him reading aloud to you – he had the loveliest voice. You were about half way through The Fellowship of the Ring and the story continued to get better.

But, all afternoon, Aemond's phone never stopped going off. It seemed like every few minutes it would ping with some kind of notification. "Who's blowing you up?" You asked, annoyance creeping into your tone.

Stopping mid sentence, he looked. "Alys," he sighed as he scrolled through the various messages.

You tried to not look over his shoulder to the texts. You really did. But there was something about Aemond's shift in posture, and the air around him, that made you suspicious. "What's going on?" You asked in your best nonchalant manner.

"She's asking if I have some of her clothes at my place still," he answered and you swore you saw pink spread atop his cheeks.

That caught you off guard. "Why would she have clothes–"

And whatever else you were going to say was abruptly cut off.

There, in a new string of messages, was the single text line, "I miss you, baby boy," followed by at least three photographs of Alys in lingerie and various stages of undress.

"What the fuck Aemond!?" You asked, anger and hurt instantly warming your blood. "What the hell were those? Are you fucking joking?"

"I have no idea why she sent–"

" –is that why she left clothes at your place? Couldn't let her go for real? Jesus Christ I can't believe you." Anger flushed your face and bittered your words.

"Listen, please. Hear me out, bab–"

" –oh fuck off, Aemond, you don't get to 'babe' me around anymore. In fact, just leave."

He looked as hurt as you. And shocked. A hundred emotions played across his chiseled features. "No, really. Let me explain," he pleaded with eye and tone.

You weren't having it. You were cheated on before and he knew it. It made your own hurt cleave even deeper. You really fucking liked him. Maybe even loved him. And this whole time he had you and Alys? "I'm seriously about to get really fucking angry. Leave. Now."

He stood and left. Silent fury screamed around him like a whirlwind. He didn't even give you one final look over his shoulder.

He shut your door with a deliberate click.

You curled up in your blanket alone as fat ugly tears streamed down your face. You couldn't be bothered to grab a tissue for your snotty nose.

Aemond's leather jacket was still draped over the back of your couch and his book still lay on the floor. Your crying somehow turned uglier at the realization.

Eventually you dozed off. With Aemond, you always had your phone on silent so you didn't hear all his missed calls and texts.

The following month went by in a blur; you drowned yourself in work. You also stopped volunteering because you didn't want to give Aemond the opportunity to meet you there. By some feat of strength you ignored all his attempts at talking – and by proxy, apologizing.

The only thing you said to him was a single text:

I need time. Please understand

Part of you wondered how it affected him. His calls and texts became sparse until they eventually stopped.

Helaena asked where you'd been and you felt horrible lying to her. So, you didn't. After telling her the story she sighed and asked if you'd want to grab tea. You agreed. Meeting her at a local cafe allowed you to air out your feelings; laughs and tears alike. She was kind, and sweet, and supportive without being passive. She loved her brother but knew he had many of his own issues. You'd been friends for over a year and this was the first true heart to heart you shared.

Upon returning home you picked up the Fellowship and tried to read from where Aemond left off. But, it wasn’t the same without him and it only made you cry. Again.

VI.

The following morning, despite your car's newer model, it barely wanted to start for your drive to work. By a stroke of luck you made it there fine. And, made it back home that evening, too. But that was the end of your luck. It needed to be picked up and taken to a shop until a mechanic could see it.

Carless, you had to rely on Uber or public transportation. Yuck.

A few days of stress passed and now you were done for the week. Thank God for weekends. Unfortunately your groceries were extremely low and you would need to make a trip in the morning. You sighed and used it as an excuse to order pizza.

After waking up and a breakfast of (the last, and past its sell-by date) packet oatmeal you got around to make the walk to the nearest grocery store. Knowing you'd be walking home, too, the list was small. Carrying bags up two flights of stairs was hard enough, much less carrying them home a mile!

On the way back it started sprinkling. Great. Just great. You started walking faster with hopes of making quicker time than your leisurely stroll to the store. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard your name called. Was that…? Stopping in your tracks you looked across your shoulder to the side of the road and saw none other than Aemond. You knew his car and voice anywhere. You didn't have to see yourself to know a dozen emotions played across your face.

"Hey," he said gently, his own features a mirror of yours.

"Hi," you said.

"Why are you walking in the rain with groceries?"

Slumping your unintentionally scrunched up shoulders, you sighed. "Stupid car died on me and it's been with the mechanic for almost a week."

He smiled softly. So soft. The outside of his seeing eye crinkled and emotion rushed to your chest. Your gut. "You're way too good to be walking alone. Let me drive you home at least?"

You didn't resist. How could you? "Alright. Sure. Just dropping me off though, okay?" Guilt panged your chest. Did he feel it too? Could he read it on your face he knew so well?

"Alright," he answered, expression falling just slight. You might as well have stomped on his foot with how it affected you.

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. Can we try it again? Can I hold your hand? God I love your hair in a ponytail. You smell good. Did you see the trailer for that new horror movie? I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. It all turned around your head like a fucking rotisserie chicken. It shouldn't be so hard to say any of those things to him. But it was.

You didn't say anything on the short ride home. Neither did he. His right hand flexed a few times and you wondered if he was having a hard time, too.

"Can you get it all upstairs?" He asked as he pulled into an empty spot and parked, looking across to you with horribly concealed emotion.

"Yes, but…," you trailed off momentarily, trying to read his face. "I still have your book and jacket. Wanna come up and grab them?" You asked hopefully.

He killed the engine faster than you could blink. "Yes! So that's where they've been. You could have mentioned it sooner," he said slightly accusingly, grinning at you with a spark of playfulness.

Leading the way upstairs to your apartment, you unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After placing your items down and grabbing Aemond's, you turned to look at him standing in the doorway. He leaned against it. Waiting. Quiet. He glanced around with a wistfulness that made your throat tight. You watched him watching you and your home until the air became awkward – was it half a second, a few seconds, longer? You weren't sure.

Slowly you walked over to him. Your gaze flickered up at him as you handed his things back. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" You asked. "Did you think I really wouldn't find out? Why did you stick around if I wasn't good enough?"

He blinked. Taken back. "You never even gave me the chance to explain." His jaw feathered before it tightened. His eye hardened.

You grabbed the door, fixing to close it on him. Now that you started talking – unloading pent up questions which kept you tossing and turning at night – you couldn't decide if you wanted to slam it on his face or yell. "I told you how I was cheated on! And you did it anyway! I trusted you, Aemond." Your voice thinned, sounding shrill even to your own ears.

One of his hands braced on the door so you couldn't close it on him. "So this is your revenge then, huh? Punishing both of us? Why don't you trust me?" Hurt and fury simmered in the lovely hue of his eye. A storm. No, a hurricane. "Alys and I have been done for months. Months. Even before you and I met. I'm sorry for what she did but I can’t control what she does. She was playing her wicked games trying to sabotage us– you and me. Don't shut me out. Please."

He pleaded, every pore and line of his face begging for forgiveness. As each word came off his tongue they clicked into place in your head. He meant it. He was telling the truth. Before you could stop yourself your fists balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down so your mouth crashed up to his. "You mean it?" You asked through the kiss.

Instantly he leaned down into you, and instantly he held onto your waist pulling you deeper against him. His other hand cradled the side of your face daring to curve along the shape of your skull. "I mean it. Yes I fucking mean it," he answered against the kiss; breath stealing yours away until it left you in a little moan.

You pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it. You moaned as he nipped and bit at your neck. Your heart thumped wildly. He sucked at the sensitive skin, again and again, pulling away just before leaving a mark. "God, Aem,” you whimpered. Goosebumps covered your body. The only thing on your mind was him.

"Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much." His hands were somehow all over you all at once. His mouth trailed, and dragged, and kissed over any exposed portion of your skin. He happily pulled off layers of your clothing to expose more and more of your soft, warm, saccharine flesh; intoxicating him. After weeks of your separation the last thing he wanted to do was to push too far too fast. “Can I take this off?” He asked before taking your shirt off.

“Yes,” you replied breathily. “Fuck it. Take all of it off. I missed you too. So much,” you said as you helped pull his clothes off, too. He pushed you against a wall. You kissed. Heavier, and hotter, and hungrier. You pushed him against a wall.

He gasped as he smirked. “I love when you act all tough when we both know I can have you squirming under me in minutes,” he growled, pupil swelling. The dimples at the very corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement, however, as he once again pushed you against the wall. You were both only in your underwear, now, and his lean body on yours had you aching. “My tough girl… how quickly do you think it’ll last when my fingers are in you?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You asked defiantly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t last long at all. By now you were both down the hallway and your bedroom was only a couple feet away. You needed him. Now. And judging by how fucking hard he was he needed you too.

The next moment went by in a blur and before you could catch yourself you were sprawled out on your back atop your bed. Aemond made quick work of moving you both inside, and made quicker work of pulling your panties down. He groaned as your thighs immediately spilled open for him. He dragged two fingers up your slit and circled your clit with your arousal. “Shit–,” he hissed. “Never make me wait so long to have this pussy again. Do you understand me? Never,” he said as he worked your already swollen clit. He played with it just how he knew you liked it and your cunt’s tiny wet sounds sent his cock throbbing. “Answer me.”

Tension built in the low muscles of your belly. Your legs began to tighten already – one of the tell-tale signs of your approaching climax. How the hell could he push you there so quickly? “N-never! Ahh-h never again!” You replied, voice light, and sweet, and tantalizing as any sin Aemond ever knew. “Please, Aemond, I want to cum…!”

He shoved those same two fingers into you. “Good girl,” he said as he curled those fingers. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine. Give it to me,” he said huskily as he worked them in and out of you. It was sloppy and wet. Borderline obscene. Each time he slammed his hand against you he was mindful to press the heel of his palm against your clit and your mound, knowing how the extra pressure sent your pretty toes curling.

You cried out his name as your eyes clenched shut. The tension in your belly snapped and a wave of glorious bliss washed over you. Sweat sheened between your breasts and along your lip. You arched, quivered, shuddering in the aftermath of his intensity.

Aemond’s mouth crashed to yours and you threaded your fingers through the roots of his hair. It was still in a ponytail and you had no mind to take it out, you just had to pull him deeper into the kiss. He tasted the salt of your sweat and groaned. “Relax your pussy, baby, you’re clenching me really hard. It feels amazing but I don’t wanna hurt you pulling out,” he said tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “Just feels too good.” You tried to steady your breath and relax as he laid beside you, continuing to kiss your neck and shoulders. When your spongy walls finally eased around him you were sad to feel him withdraw. Stress melted away from your subconscious and you wanted to thank him for the pleasure. You wondered if your eyes said it while he looked at you.

Leaning up, he discarded the final piece of his clothing and sighed in relief as his cock sprang free. He got between your thighs and looked down at you hungerily. “Look at you all doe eyed already. See? I knew you couldn’t stay tough for long,” he said, smug, as he lined up with your drenched cunt. He held one of your legs up against him, and you pressed the other against his side.

When you left for the store this morning you had no idea your afternoon would go in this direction.

He pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you and soon he was as deep as he could be. A moan escaped both of you, and a throatier one left him when his free hand tugged at your bra. It was one that clipped in the front. He popped it open and rocked into you as soon as your tits spilled free. "You're so sexy like this."

With your body already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now with Aemond building a rhythm between your thighs, you weren't going to last long. "You feel so good," you purred, eyelids heavy. "Fuck I missed you."

Another sound left his chest and when you wrapped your legs around his slim waist you swore you felt goosebumps pebble all along his skin. Or, maybe those were your goosebumps on your legs. Whatever the case, Aemond leaned forward and kissed you again. "I missed you too," he rumbled. "Gonna let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again?"

You two made good use of your birth control and you weren't about to deny him – or yourself – the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked and stuffed. "Y-yeah," you stammered, smiling.

Aemond mumbled something incoherent into your neck, and if your brain wasn't foggy from his perfect fucking cock you might have caught what he said.

He leaned up and supported himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're my girl. You're my fucking girl. You're my fucking girl," he repeated again and again until the pace of his thrusts grew sloppy. Somehow the sloppiness of it, the neediness and urgency of his voice, sent emotion swelling in all of you.

Heat collected and grew out from your spine, webbing throughout your entire body. You clung to him desperately. You rolled your hips up into him and shamelessly grinded your clit against his pelvis as he drove in and out of you. It was all too much. You crumbled beneath him and let orgasm take control of you. The depths of your body squeezed and convulsed around him, holding him tight and soaking the fullness of his length with your slick. He never stopped or paused his thrusts.

His own peak followed. Once he was as deep as he could be he released everything he had into you. He stayed there, both of you panting through little moans, until he no longer twitched between your stretched walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and slowly, his seed dribbled out of you. Grinning, he rolled onto his back and scooped you against him.

"Let's stay here like this all day," you mumbled happily, fingertips trailing up and down his abdomen and chest.

"You'll get no argument from me," he said.

Quiet minutes passed and the sound of his heart nearly put you into a trance. "I'm sorry for how I acted," you finally admitted.

All the while he'd been petting and trailing his fingers through your hair. He didn't stop as he answered, "and I'm sorry for not trying harder." He kissed your forehead and held you tighter.

"Let's try it again. For real this time. With the titles and commitment and everything."

"Are you asking or telling me to be your boyfriend?"

You smirked. "I'm suggesting."

Returning your smirk, he pulled you atop him so you could straddle him. "You're all mine," he said with a dark eye. "My perfect girl."

Leaning down, you kissed and nipped his bottom lip. "Are you already hard again, Aemond Targaryen?"

A chuckle rumbled somewhere in his chest as his touch dented into your hips to hold you at just the right angle. With a roll of his hips he pushed himself up inside you again. "Whose cock is this?"

You gasped, eyes darkening with another round of lust. "Mine."

"That's right. Yours. Not anyone else's. It's fucking yours."

You rode him until your tits were covered in fresh hickies and you were filled with another load of him.

Yours. His. The second chance you both needed.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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