#and so counter to the heart of the idea of learning a language

[noegrets]

Denise: The newest lessons in Italian I've gotten to on Duolingo seem to be US English sentences translated into the Italian language. They are not Italian sentences.

I mean this in the sense of... there are sentences are talking about a wedding reception and complimenting the grandmother of the bride... this is sitcom-level typical for US weddings, but that's not how weddings typically go in Italy, and Rosy had never heard the word Duolingo was using for "wedding reception" before. Likewise, the sentences are talking about going off to college and moving in with other students in a dorm room... and Rosy tells me that more typically in Italy, students rent apartments together; there aren't actually dormitories like that. There was a whole section of sentences from a job interview, and Rosy said that interviews are absolutely not so confrontational in Italy. And if I were to ever say the sentence of inviting colleagues out for happy hour, I'll at best sound like an US-assimilationist asshole from Milan; that doesn't really happen in the rest of Italy, it's moreso a US thing.

Previously, the sentences in Duolingo seemed to be at least some degree reflective of Italian culture. There were sentences about how most people vacation in August, and how Easter in Italy don't involve looking for eggs like in the US, but rather, in Italy, there are different festivities. When learning a language, I should be learning the culture at the same time. It is pretty pointless to learn from US English sentences translated into Italian by an AI. I want to learn from Italian sentences that a real Italian person might actually say.

Duolingo's treatment of the Italian language is already bad enough. I'm sure it's even worse for more endangered languages from more endangered cultures. What is gained by "preserving" a twisted version of the language that is just US English in an AI-generated trenchcoat?

Decided that once I get to a 1000 day streak on Duolingo I’m breaking up with that fucking owl and deleting the app.

[lialuvsaven]

Pairing: Aventurine x reader

Tw: none, he's just skittish but that's understandable. Might have grammatical mistakes but English isn't my first language so whatever. The « » words are supposed to be the avgin dialect okok that's all

"Will you teach me how to speak the Avgin dialect?"

Aventurine nearly splutters out the sip of wine he was about to drink, and you observe as his whole body subtly jerks — trying to figure out if he misheard you or not.

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

And yet, the only expression he sees on your face is a little smile, a hint of curiosity and optimism in those lovely eyes of yours. For some reason, he can't find it in him to appreciate that look this time.

"And why is that?" The tone of his voice is reserved, calculated, and for a millisecond, you are reminded of your job: meetings, negotiations and transaction. The air suddenly feels thicker, and although he maintains his usual smile, there's a subtle shift that suggests it may not be as genuine as it was moments ago.

"Because I….want to understand you?" You naively respond, unaware of the warnings you're triggering in his head, unaware of the amount of bells ringing in his ears. The red alarms flashing in front of his eyes are bright, and they blind him to everything else, drowning out your silhouette until he can't make out your face as a familiar one.

All he's seeing is red, red of a warning bell, red of sunset and endings, red of blood and—

"I'm not sure why you even thought that would be a good idea" a small chuckle leaves his mouth, and he shifts a little on the couch in an attempt to regain his belongings.

"After all, I don't even speak it anymore— a dead language is not something you'd benefit from learning."

"But I am a linguist" You counter, huffing a bit. "I wouldn't think a language is “less beneficial” just because it's dead. Besides, Sigonian isn't a dead language, and neither is the Avgin dialect. You are here, and you speak it."

Blink.

"What?" Aventurine grows defensive, and he shifts in his seat again; only a little. It's not okay to let others know of your discomfort, you cannot show your weaknesses. Luckily, you don't notice, and he continues carefully.

"I don't speak it— what are you saying? How could I possibly use that language?"

He picks his sentences with caution, leaving half of it up in the air for you to interpret. He can't bring himself to finish it— he can't use it when everyone else who spoke of it is presumably dead. That would only result in another restless night of futile attempts at subduing the void in his heart. Just because he knows it, doesn't mean he likes to think of it.

Aventurine does not like to remember the fact that he's the only one left of the Avgins, even though the cosmos is merciless in its reminders.

"You do speak it!!" You insist, and look into his eyes, and his eyes almost make you forget the rest of your sentence. "—You say things under your breath. When things go south, or when your catcakes do something super adorable and you can't hold a grin on your face. I've seen you multiple times, talking to yourself in an unfamiliar language. It is your mother tongue, is it not?"

Ah.

The words that escape your lips are curling into itself, flickering through the corners of his mind. I've seen you multiple times. Multiple times. Multiple times. Talking to yourself. To yourself. To yourself.

His mother tongue.

Oh, how he wishes he could talk to someone else, how he longs to talk to another Avgin in his mother tongue— in their mother tongue.

"Do I do that?" He inquires, and you affirm, still wearing a smile. Both of you have been smiling at each other, but only one of you is clawing through the walls of their mind trying their best not to leave the room right this moment. You're not an adversary, he reminds himself. You're not an enemy.

"I can't teach you that." He stares in an unusually cold tone, sending shivers down your spine. A tone Aventurine reserves for when a business deal has gone wry, for when he needs to put on his best performance and come back at the top. Unfortunately, this means there's no room for you to argue, no negotiations, no nothing.

You realize a bit too late that you've made him uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry" Apologies keep flowing from your mouth, but Aventurine can barely hear them. All he knows is the warning bells in his ears are growing fainter, and you are once more becoming recognizable, the blur in your face diminishing by the second.

"It's okay," he laughs softly, ruffling your hair to dispel the gloom on your face.

"I don't remember much anyway- I can't teach you anything meaningful, you know? I think Tanti or any of the likes would do much better for your next research material than my native language. We have a reputation across the cosmos anyway, that language can't be intriguing to people."

"Huh?" You tilt your head in confusion, "I'm not going to write a paper on it though???"

"Then what did you want to learn it for?"

"Did you not hear me? I said I wanted to get to know you better."

The feeling of discomfort is back with that, and Aventurine finds himself trying to figure out how to come up with a valid excuse to end the conversation. If he isn't careful, you'll catch on. And if you catch on, you'll keep insisting on trying to understand him, to mend your mistakes and to avoid something similar in future. Then, he'd simply have to cut you off before you go too far. And he'd rather not cut you off and keep you by his side. Yes please, thanks.

You speak once more, but this time you avert your gaze from his eyes and focus on the soft carpet beneath your feet. "If you're not comfortable teaching me, I won't insist. I apologize if I overstepped. I want you to know that my intentions were not malicious. I simply wanted to learn your language so that we could converse in it, and I'm open to sharing my own language with you if you're interested."

Ah. You've now started to speak with more formal and eloquent words than usual, a habit Aventurine has picked up on thanks to observing you for so many years. You always do that when nervous, along with averting eye contact- and you're now anxious.

"it's okay," he reassures you again. "I know what you mean. So no need to worry, hm?"

His words seem to have given you a confidence boost, because your next words catch him off guard again.

"Also, I found your language to be quite beautiful."

"....Beautiful?"

"Yes," you gesture with your hands as you continue, "it's very melodious, you know? I'm familiar with the Sigonian language, as it was one of the languages I studied during my major. However, the Avgin dialect sounds... different. Of course, you're a very quiet mumbler—obviously— and I couldn't understand much- but I've realized that the Avgin is not only is not only significantly different from standard Sigonian, but it also has a much sweeter sound. As a linguist, it's disheartening to think that this sweetness has gone unnoticed by the world."

The initial panic has completely dissipated for Aventurine, replaced by a sadness even he can't place what for. He has half a mind to laugh, and tell you that his people were sweet too, but no one cared for that either. He wants to say of course it sounded sweeter, the standard Sigonian had always been dry and lacking the warmth, any Avgin would agree with you. And yet, he dares not let the dam loose.

Instead of voicing his thoughts, he decides to observe you, as the ringing in his ears has now completely silenced. The you in front of his eyes is meek, likely because you've assumed you overstepped and made him upset. He hates seeing that expression on you: truly, especially when you shouldn't have to feel that guilt. He knows you well enough to know you're not lying, and for a split second— he entertains the idea of sharing the sweetness of his language with you, to have someone else who can understand his tongue.

He decides it's not an entirely uncomfortable thought.

It has been a few weeks since he agreed to teach you the Avgin dialect, and he still finds it surprising that he made that decision. Everything related to the Avgins and their culture is dear to him, including his people, his family, and of course, kakavasha; he protects them with all of his being. However, for some reason, he has chosen to share this delicate and intimate part of himself with you. After all, he is the last known surviving Avgin—this is more than personal; it's his mother tongue, for goodness' sake!

You've proven yourself to be a very very dedicated student, absorbing every piece of information he imparts like a sponge. Aventurine is unsure of how to teach you, as he himself is losing touch with his language thanks to not speaking it for years. Because of you, he now thinks more in Avgin and realizes how much he thought he had forgotten but still remembered, and how much he thought he remembered but had forgotten.

But it's nice, to be greeted in his language whenever you two come across each other. You're still cheerful and sparkling as before, but now you can greet him in his language. «Hello, how's your day going!!!» You ask him each time, with that accent and broken words that makes you sound childish more than anything. But Aventurine could care less about that; he's quick to greet you back each time, adding a new word so you learn something from each interaction.

You've told him that he's much much more expressive whenever speaking Avgin, but he tries not to think about it.

"Manro means bread," Aventurine informs you, observing quietly as you eagerly jot it down in your notepad. "I quite like the feel of pen and paper," you told him once, and he still can't comprehend why that's preferable to typing on a screen instead.

"Mañro?" you repeat, and he has to conceal an affectionate smile at your accent. It's unfamiliar and odd, but not disliked. Never disliked.

"Manro." He corrects, and you get it down this time.

"So….«manro» means bread and you said…«pani» meant water? So let's say I wanna talk about my lunch….«I water with bread eat?» Is that how you say it?"

Aventurine purses his lips, trying to appear serious. "No, it's «I ate bread with water.» But what's with that meal choice? That can't be good for you."

You only huff in response, "hey— I'm still learning okay!! How do you say wine?"

"Mol"

"Mol— how about wanting to drink or taste?"

Aventurine raises an eyebrow, "Zumavel"

"Okok. So…. «I want to taste wine really bad. Might die.»"

Aventurine snickers at that, turning his gaze away to avoid receiving another punch from you. Despite the fact that you've opted for this inefficient learning method—since he can't provide proper grammar lessons—the sentences you're coming up with are hilarious.

"Not quite. It's «I want to drink wine so bad that I might die»" he corrects you again, and you let out an embarrassed laugh to write the correct structure down. You've promised him you'll figure out the grammatical structure and everything to him after all. And he can't say he's not hoping you actually will.

"How do you say eye?"

"Just like how you say in standard Sigonian"

"Ohhh….I've noticed that body part names are usually unchanged in the Avgin dialect. How about warmth?"

"We call it tato" he smiles at you, and your cheeks tint the faintest hue of pink as you look away.

"«Your eyes—»" you purse your lips, thinking hard to form the structure "«-Are warm right now. Very warm.»"

Aventurine's eyes widen, and for a moment he's speechless; unable to comprehend how and why. But you're blushing, and playing with the hem of your shirt, which means at the very least you aren't lying.

«I'm afraid you've become my heart» He says under his breath, the words escaping his mouth before he can even stop them. It tastes sweet in his tongue, memories of a time long gone resurfacing. He didn't even remember that saying, up until now. And now, he has a little more understanding of how sweet his mother tongue really is.

"What does that mean?" You ask him, and he merely smiles at that.

"Nothing. I just said thank you."

A/N : gah I'm sorry for that word vomit I can't stop thinking about it....like one been thinking for months about his language and what it might mean for him now that he's (presumably) the only avgin left. My mother tongue has PLENTY of dialects, and there are certain ones that are totally different from the standard (I don't understand some of those) so I kind of projected....and other than that I hope it wasn't too bad omg

[beersangel]

Matcha lover ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

* ˚ ✦ matt sturniolo’s love language is acts of services!

Matt Sturniolo x reader 💗

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Your head rests on Matt’s chest as you talk about how expensive the drinks in LA are, especially your favorite – a sweet iced matcha. You rant about how hard it is to find a good one that doesn’t cost a fortune.

As you speak, an idea pops into Matt’s head. He’s seen people making iced matcha at home on TikTok before, using those little matcha kits. He figures he could do that for you, especially since he knows how much you love drinking it.

When you drift off to sleep, Matt pulls out his phone, determined. He starts searching for everything he’ll need. He looks for the best matcha powder, paying extra attention to find a sweet one, just like you like it. He adds the matcha kit to his cart, checks everything over, and places the order. Once he’s done, he puts his phone down and pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head before falling asleep with you in his arms.

A few days later, while you're hanging out at a friend's place, Matt gets the package delivered. Excited, he opens TikTok, finds the tutorial he saved, and gets to work. He knows you’ll be home soon, so he hurries, making sure he follows the instructions carefully. He wants this to be perfect for you.

You come home just as Matt is whisking something in the kitchen, his back to you. You frown a little because baking isn’t exactly his thing. Quietly, you walk up behind him and wrap your arms around him, surprising him. He jumps but quickly relaxes when he realizes it’s you.

You peek over his shoulder and your eyes widen in surprise.

“Is that—” you start, and he turns to face you with a proud smile.

“Yes,” he grins.

“Matt…” you say, your heart swelling with appreciation.

“Don’t get too excited yet. You still have to try it,” he laughs. “Sit up on the counter, give me a couple of minutes. I’m almost done.” He kisses your cheek before turning back to finish the drink.

You watch him pour milk into a glass filled with ice, then carefully add the green matcha. He stirs it gently and pops in a metal straw. With a nervous but eager smile, he walks over to you, holding the drink.

He hands it to you, eyes full of hope. “Go on, give it a try,” he says, biting his lip.

You take the straw and stir the matcha with the milk before taking your first sip. Your eyes widen at the sweet, familiar taste.

“Well?” Matt asks, leaning in a little.

You swallow and look up at him, shocked. “Matt… this is so good!” you say, a huge smile spreading across your face.

Matt’s face lights up. “Really?”

You put the glass down next to you and grab his face, pulling him in for a kiss. “I can’t believe you learned how to make my favorite drink,” you say, kissing the corner of his lips softly.

“Anything for my girl,” he whispers, his smile soft and full of love. He presses a few kisses to your cheek, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[bkd-b3ans]

You try to repair a watch, Boothill is being annoying as usual, you end up discovering his neurolink perfectly mimics human emotions.

-> Ship: Boothill X Mechanic!Reader (or just tech savvy idk the term really)

-> Rating: Safe for All

-> TL;DR: Boothill visits you after closing hours, nearly ruins a 5 million watch repair commission, stares for a bit too long while you work and overheats for a bit, ends up learning you live above your own workshop and you learn he gets flustered easy.

-> Extra notes: No idea where I will go with these, I just love writing stuff. Next one is going to be more about touching / feeling, but until then, you too can experience casual chatter. I do not proof read, whatever is written is in accordance to Ellios script, go meow at him. Take this "2nd" part as pure world-building.

-> Word count: 2k~ ish

-> First part: here

Thank you for reading and bearing with my awful English. If you have any prompts I would be more than happy to hear them.

"Pardner? Yoohooo~" Boothill was waving his arm like a manic from the front of the counter, trying to catch your attention, but you were too engrossed in your work, tinkering away with some expensive watch you were paid to fix, the tiny gears and springs neatly organized in your table in tiny boxes with labels, while you were hunched over the table, looking through a magnifying glass and listening to music, tongue almost sticking out like some cartoon character while you were trying to place the gear in its place carefully using some precise tweezers.

For all you cared, your shop was closed for the day, so why would anyone in their right mind, or that knows how to read a sign, would even bother you? Of course you didn't take into account a Galaxy Ranger that had a passion for annoying you at random times.

"Psst, hey, over 'ere..." he sighed, "Fudge this". Impatient as ever, Boothill just helped himself with one of the expensive motor oil cans in the counter and stepped around it, taking off his hat and placing it on your head.

The whole motion made you jump out of your skin, dropping the tweezers together with the very important, one of a kind gear, that you could barely notice while it was on your table, let alone on your floor, rolling off into the void like all of the pens you've lost throughout the years.

"WHAT THE FUCK, MY FUCKING WORK OF MY AEONS-" you took off the hat annoyed, hand still shaking from the scare and heart running laps in your chest. Shoving the hat into Boothills chest, you couldn't help but be angry at the man, sighing.

"Damn sugar-cube, didn't know ye were this jumpy. Ye should be more aware of yer surroundings you know?"

"What the hell does that mean. MY SHOP IS CLOSED BOOTHILL, CAN'T YOU READ??"

"Well, not your language no, it's all a bunch of jumbles and lines"

You looked confused for a moment before realizing that neither of you were from the same planet. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, trying to get rid of your furrow.

"Just, shut up and help me look for that gear. AND PUT THE DAMN CAN DOWN"

He raised his arms in defeat, putting down the can of motor oil and looking around your workbench while you were painfully looking for the gear with your magnifying glasses.

"Lotta' shiny pieces you have on the table. Are these really more important than your good old buddy, Boothill?"

"Unless you're willing to give me 5 million, then yes"

Boothill choked

"5 million?? For some beautiful watch?"

"What can I say, some people have more than they know what to do with. Now stop yapping and get on your knees, I can't see shit."

"Is that an invitation, darling?"

"... BOOTHILL!"

"Aye aye, don't get your feathers ruffled like this darling, just sit there and be pretty"

----------------

You couldn't help but be annoyed still, slumped in your chair, fiddling with your pen, while Boothill was looking around. How long has it been already, maybe a few minutes? Hours? Days??? Your work couldn't wait that much, and each ticking second felt agonizing. You were so close too, getting interrupted was the last thing you needed right now. You always had plans, a schedule, deadlines, you couldn't afford the unpredictability that is Boothill sometimes.

You almost got too lost in your thoughts before you heard a sudden thud, metal against wood, and a proud exclamation.

"Here it is sugar-cube, your pretty little thing... Cogwheel whatever. Now can you stop looking like someone spat in your food or do I need to repair this watch myself to make you happy?"

You could swear sometimes he was like a dog, a big doberman. For as scary as he could look sometimes, you couldn't help but be unable to push him away. All you could do was just let out an amused scoff, taking the gear piece in the palm of your hand, and gently placing it in it's box.

"No, no, you've done enough damage already. Why are you here even?"

"Just wanted to pay my best buddy a visit? What, a man can't do that no more?"

"No fixing your body? No maintenance work? Really nothing? Just a visit? Odd, thought you were a busy man"

"Oh I sure am sugar-cube, but sometimes even I need to sit down and relax."

"... In my workshop"

"In yer workshop, yes."

You sighed

"Fine, fine, stay for as long as you need, but don't touch anything that is in this-" you motion around your workbench "general area"

He tipped his hat in acknowledgment

"Aye aye, I'll stay put, fudge me, you can be very serious sometimes."

"5 million"

"Right yes, that's understandable."

You went back to work, trying to finish placing the last pieces inside that damned watch, headphones back on your ears. Boothill was simply slumped on the couch you kept around the waiting area, that barely saw any use to begin with. He was just looking around, bored out of his mind, the silence really starting to get to him. On occasion he's throw you glances, looking like a kicked puppy only to be met by your back either way. Yet he couldn't help but notice the few tics you had, tapping your foot, humming to yourself from time to time, arranging your hair by shaking your head around, and just how damn beautiful you looked in that dim warm light.

By no means we're you prettied up and groomed, after all, working with machinery all day will just lead to one always being covered by oil or sutt, clothes messy, the tools around your belt loud and heavy, but to him, it was part of the charm. The passion you had for what you did, the care you treated everything with, even his own body when it needed repairs. Sure, you two may butt heads more often than goats, but you were the reason he kept making his trips back to your workshop for any needs. He trusted you, felt comfort in your presence.

He could feel his insides start to heat up, his mind trailing off. Sure, he couldn't blush for the love of him, after all blood stopped flowing through his body long, long ago, but his body still reacted from time to time to strong emotions, and now it was no different. It felt, uncomfortable almost, a strange emptiness in his metal gut. Maybe it was the bullets he snacked in like some chips, or maybe it was more than that. He just simply pulled his hat over his eyes to focus and calm down.

-------------------

Finally, after so many hours, you were finally done, the watch ticking gleefully, almost as if happy with it's new look. You sighed in relief, finally placing down your headphones and slumping in your chair, pulling your glasses up.

"Finally... I swear they are trying to drive me insane with all these new 'trinkets' that have way too many small pieces for their own good. How you holding up, Boots?"

"Fine as ever sugar, bored out of my mind, but rested"

"Yeah, I can see that, you've already made a dent in my couch"

"Hey, I helped ya find that gear for free, can't I get some more respect"

"And who's fault was it that I dropped it?" You said, raising your eyebrow.

"Aye aye, sorry 'bout that."

There was a moment of pause

"Say, partner, you've messed around inside my body for a while now. Do you know if there's any functions that might mimic proper human emotions?"

"Human emotions? Hmmm"

You thought for a moment, trying to remember if you've seen any kind of code that might do that.

"I don't think I've seen anything like that, but I've also never like, actually paid attention. There may be some functions that mimic that, after all, you might need them to think and work properly. Why?"

"Ah, nothing important, was just wondering."

"I can always check if you want. Of course, for a price"

He couldn't help but scoff, amused "You were never free eh?"

"Someone has to eat"

"Sure, sure. I mean why not, might as well get this mystery solved, since I'm here and have nothing better to do."

"Then come with me"

You both went inside your garage, Boothill already used to all the steps, laying down on the weird table chair as he put it while you connected the cables to the back of his neck, opening the hologram screens.

"Let's see..." you rubbed your chin, pacing around while moving around screens, trying to find anything remotely similar to what Boothill mentioned, but it was rather hard. Every line kept changing dictating different functions every moment.

"Hmm...."

"Anything the matter?"

"No, I just realized why I might have never seen that kind of function. Your neurolink is adapting to everything you do, so it's changing constantly. I think the only way to spot anything us to trigger whatever made you so curious about your 'emotions'"

"Trigger em? And how the fork do you plan on doing that?"

You thought for a moment, moving next to Boothill, dragging the screens along with you. You didn't really give a warning as you poked his chest with a screwdriver, noticing some changes.

"What in the beautiful sky are you doing?"

"There it is" you just pointed at the screen at the suddenly changing lines.

"Your body reacts to your mental state. Right now you are confused"

"I sure as warm lake I am, you're poking me around with a screwdriver."

"What else would have you wanted me to do? Touch you with my own hands?"

He was about to say something, but you grabbed one of the screens, squinting at it.

"Getting flustered, Boots?" You could almost feel your own smug smile forming on your face.

"Flustered? Please, you'd think I'd get 'flustered' from just a check-up?"

"Bashful... Interesting"

"Hey! Stop saying things and answer me, sweetheart"

"And annoyed. Yeah, you do seem to have those functions, and they're damn advanced to mimic human emotions. Guess you aren't just metal after all. You still have the ability to feel. It's interesting how this changes..."

You got too focused on the lines of code, not paying attention to how you started leaning against the table, your hand extremely close to Boothills, fingers almost touching. Sure, you were just staring at the lines changing, but Boothill was staring at your hand, annoyed almost that he couldn't just grab it, only to be confused over why he was annoyed. You just chuckled to yourself and pushed the screen away, unplugging the cables.

"Well, mystery solved, your neurolink functions exactly like a brain and it sends the proper signals, so your body will be affected by your emotions."

"Great-" he rolled his eyes, standing up and scratching the back of his head "You need a new table, this one is forking uncomfortable."

"I don't take feedback"

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say darling." he just hopped off the table, adjusting his hat.

"H-"

"1k credits"

"Damn, let me finish at least. Fine, you know the drill"

"Nah, I'll let it slide this time. Getting to check your internals can be fun sometimes" you patted his back

"I'll go home, unless you want to guard my shop, you should leave too."

"You don't just live in your workshop??"

"...what...?"

"You know, like, I've always only seen you here, where is your home even."

"Oh... Oh! I guess you can say that? My home is upstairs, I bought the whole building when I opened so everything on the ground floor is the shop, upstairs is my place."

"Ok that makes sense... Can I-"

"No"

"Fine fine, I'll go my merry way then. I'll see you next time partner, and thank you for the free check-up"

"Don't get too used to them"

He nodded, tipping his hat and leaving.

[nightlyrequiem]

hi there requiem !!!

so about being Valerias wife??? can we have some hcs on how she treats us (〃´▽`)

like how clingy, jealous, etc ^_^

throw in some smut too .. if you can (・・;)

thank you in advance!!! <3<33

-🃏🌀⭐️

Hi welcome back, happy to see your emojis in my inbox <33

I would LOVE to talk about how Valeria treats her wife. I have a few different ideas that I can't pick from

Being Valeria's Wife

I have two ideas, we'll start with the fluffier, happier ones. Then delve into the darker ones. Valeria is very doting when she has the time. She's a busy woman but when she's with you? She is with you. I like to think that Valeria's love language is acts of service. You're hungry? She'll cook for you. She'll arrange the cushions on the couch and bed for you. Valeria loves doing simple things for you.

Valeria is also a very jealous woman. She has this deep, irrational fear that one of your friends will woo you somehow and you'll cheat on her. She secretly goes through your phone. Not necessarily out of a lack of trust but just to reassure herself. She's not too clingy. Valeria loves cuddling up with you but she also likes her own space. She's perfectly fine with spending long periods of time away from you. (Not too long though.)

She's obsessed. But only because it's so hard for her to actually want someone in the first place. Not because she's guarding her heart but because she feels a lack of interest in literally everyone. So when she does finally catch feelings she falls fast, and she falls hard. Valeria is here to stay. If you're of a cheerful temperament, then everything is smooth sailing.

Valeria isn't a mental health expert though. The time and area she was raised in didn't really talk about it. So she'll struggle a bit if you have a mental illness. Not understanding certain behaviors and moods means things will be tense. Valeria will argue with you and fight with you, but eventually relents and does her own research. She learns how to help you. Offering that much needed emotional support.

She spoils you too. Even if you make your own money she will insist on paying for every date. If you want to pay the bills you're going to have to be good at arguing because she wants to pay those too.

Valeria isn't so good to you during serious arguments though. She's quick to anger and even quicker to use things against you. Then she'll give you the cold shoulder for a while. She's not great at apologizing either. In fact, she just doesn't. One day you'll wake up to her making you coffee in the kitchen acting like nothing happened. asking for an apology will just spark another argument.

That woman is also very horny. She's very attentive to you in bed. She likes being rough and borderline violent but if you don't like that she will be more gentle. That being said, she loves eating you out. In the shower, on the counter, in bed, in the car. Doesn't matter. She'll take any chance she can to use her mouth on you. She's not good at after care at first. You had to tell her that it doesn't feel good to be used and then left alone while she goes eats or something.

Now onto the darker stuff. Valeria loves you in her own way but she's dismissive and kind of mean sometimes. During fights she'll belittle, and name call you. She's jealous and a little insecure. It's not that she's not aware of her bad behavior, because she is. She always tells you and herself that she's going to change but she never does. She worries you'll eventually leave her.

She doesn't like your friends either. If you dare, try and hangout with them, she'll give you the cold shoulder. To her it feels like you prefer them over her and she's not about to beg for your attention. On the contrary, you have to beg for hers. She won't talk to you until you're in tears begging her to stop ignoring you, and even then, she's still a little icy for a few days.

She'll regularly go through your phone and delete pictures of you and your friends without telling you. She's dismissive and uncaring when you bring it up. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it somewhere, but Valeria really struggled with empathy. She knows it hurts you and she'd prefer if it didn't, but she doesn't feel all that bad. The guilt she feels is too distant for her to do anything with.

She still loves you though, it's just not in a conventional way and if she maybe went to therapy, she could love you in a healthier way.

[her-power]

beg (joseph quinn x fem! reader)18+

warnings: language, strong sexual content, lots and lots of making out, bathroom fool around. It’s not that explicit (edit: it’s horny, whoops lol, there’s an unexpected belt restraining 😵‍💫) it’s playful, funny, but minors, stay the eff away.

summary: you run into JQ at a karaoke bar (I know, there’s a theme with these 😂) and drunkenly tell him that you wrote smut about him. he begs you to show him and he’s very…interested.

word count: idk, lots of words 🫠

You were drunk.

You didn’t mean to get this drunk, but there was something about the energy of a karaoke bar that made you want to get loaded. You had just finished singing Bohemian Rhapsody, and had received a roar from the crowd of people who sang along with you, and lots of clapping. Your friends wanted you to sing more, but you needed a break. And some water. You saunter over to the bar, asking for a glass of water which you chug down. Probably not the best idea, but you were thirsty, and it felt like it was thousands of degrees in the building. You took three ice cubes out of the glass and pop them in your mouth, cooling yourself down.

“Your Freddie Mercury dance moves was quite impressive.” A soft, English accented voice reaches your ears and you glance up at the man standing next to you. You gasp, an ice cube sliding down your throat causing you to choke a little. His eyes are wide and he’s almost laughing. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to make you choke.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You manage to breathe out.

Joseph fucking Quinn was standing next to you.

“I’m sorry, that was rude, hi…you are…wow. I must be really drunk cause there is no way you’re standing next to me.” You suppress a giggle and he chuckles.

“Nope, I am a real.” He leans against the bar, twirling his beer bottle. “You good? No more choking?”

“Uh…” you laugh, blindly searching for the bar stool which he scoots behind you and you sit. “Need to sit down for this, why are you in the most rural part of town at a hole in the wall karaoke bar?”

He laughs. “Been filming a movie the next town over, got some nice beaches down this way. This seemed like a good place to be unrecognizable.”

He meets your eyes.

Gods, he was beautiful.

You blush and look away. “Came to the right spot, it’s dim, dreary, smells like piss and shame. I don’t think my friends know where I went.” You glance around the bar, spotting your friends sitting at the table in the corner, drunkenly crying. Yeah, sitting right here feels much better than that, you think.

“My favorite kind of place.” He giggles. “What are you drinking?”

“You…NOPE…wow. Intrusive thoughts won, I’m so sorry.” You put your palms over your face and he laughs loudly. “Ughhhh, this is not happening. I’m making a fool out of myself in front of such a beautiful man. I used to be so good at this.”

“I think you’re being pretty adorable.” He says close to your ear and you almost yelp. He giggles at your behavior and you tell him you’ve been drinking bourbon all night. He orders you a drink and your hand shakes as you bring the rim to your lips.

“Easy, love. You don’t need to be nervous around me.” He nudges you with his shoulder and you relax a little.

“How do I know you’re not like Ted Bundy? Hmm?” You smile at him, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do I look like a serial killer?”

“Ted Bundy didn’t.” You counter and he smiles.

“Touché, but no, I’m not here to kill you.”

“Oh yeah? What are you here to do to me?”

Foot. In. Mouth. You’re gonna make him leave, you’re gonna make him go away by just being a fucking creep.

“What do you want me to do to you?” His voice is low, and your heart beats rapidly as you stare at him with your mouth hanging open. He smirks at you, gently taking his finger and lifting your chin to close your mouth, and winks.

“Oooookay…we’re flirting. This is…okay. Why do I feel like I’m in a setting of one of my stories?”

“Stories?”

Fuck me.

You groan. You need to learn to stop talking to yourself in public, because shit like this happens and you spill secrets you’re not supposed to spill. “Huh? What? No…I mean…nothing, it’s nothing.”

“Friends don’t lie.”

“Oh we’re friends? You don’t even know my name.”

“So tell me.” He turns towards you, your elbows are touching and his eyes are staring deep into yours, they subtly glance down your form and then meet your eyes again. You bite your bottom lip, smiling and tell him your name. “Okay, now we’re friends.”

“I’m not telling you what I said.” You laugh, sipping your drink. He looks at you shocked and the way he moved his head back was comical, you choke on your drink again.

“That is very rude and not fair.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine, I wrote a story about you awhile back.”

He points to himself and smiles. “What kind of story?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Oh but I do.” He slides your bar stool closer to him. “Whisper it.”

He’s so close to you, you can smell his cologne and the subtle aroma of beer on his breath. You just stare at him, not answering him. “It’s naughty isn’t it?”

You look away from him, and blush. He gasps excitedly. “Show me!”

Your eyes widen. “What?! No way! It’s embarrassing and it’s horny.”

“Even better.”

“No.” You lean into him and smile. He groans, draping his arm over the back of your chair.

“What do I have to do to get you to show me?” His mouth is so close to yours. You wondered what his lips felt like. You had imagined it, clearly.

“Beg for it.” You smile and he laughs.

“Is that what I do in your story? Beg?”

A tingle forms in your belly at the way he said that and you blush. “I’m just kidding.”

“What if I’m not?”

“Okay, you need to settle down.” You laugh, playfully pushing him away and he giggles. “Can’t believe I’m flirting with you right now, this is insane. I have to pee…watch my drink.”

He smirks, sliding your drink next to his and placing his jacket over the back of your seat. Your legs immediately start shaking as you make your way to the bathroom, your friend Stacey is coming out of the bathroom as you open the door.

“Hey! We’re going, do you need a ride?” She asks you.

You glance back at the bar. “No, I’m okay. I can take an Uber home.”

“By yourself? I don’t know if I feel right about that.”

You gently pat her face. “I’ll be fine. I don’t really wanna share a ride with you all crying about what happened on Love Island.”

She laughs. “Shut up, I know. I hate myself too. Okay, please text me when you get home. Don’t go home with any strangers.” She kisses your cheek.

“Yes, mom.”

Ha, if only she knew.

Although, was he a stranger?

Yes, dumbass.

But, a highly known stranger.

Not in the middle of nowhere USA.

You push open the stall door, quickly do your business and wash your hands. There was no one else in there with you, and you took a minute to look over yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment of telling him you wrote a sex story about him, and also the fact that he was so…flirtatious and sexy. You adjust your high waisted jeans and pull your black cropped tank down. As of lately; you have grown to love your body and its shape, but you were suddenly feeling self conscious sitting next to a celebrity.

The door to the bathroom opens and you glance up in the mirror.

There he was. Smiling. Comedically tip toeing into the bathroom, locking the door while you stand there stunned.

“What are you-“ His hands are on your waist in a flash, and his soft lips press against yours, sweetly, gently. His hands go into your hair and a sigh escapes you, you almost fall backwards but he wraps his arms around your waist tighter, holding you to him. Your hands go to his chest, and you gently push him back, your lips falling away from each other with a smack. Your eyes dart back and forth from his eyes to his lips and he’s grinning at you.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait any longer.” He tells you and you still cannot find words.

He was a good kisser.

Maybe you could show him your story, but that could wait. You wanted to kiss him again, so you did. His tongue glides into your mouth and you groan, pushing your body against his, bumping into the wall, almost falling over the trash can. His hands find your thigh and squeeze gently, lifting you up delicately and your head slams against the automatic paper towel dispenser.

“Ow!” You laugh loudly as the paper towels come out behind you, vroooooom.

“Oh shit I’m sorry!” He pulls away from your lips quickly and holds your head. You laugh, holding his face and kissing him again. He smiles against your lips, his hand grips your waist and you sigh, moving your hands over his back, down past his ass and you pull his waist flush against you. He groans against your mouth, and lifts you on the bathroom counter. You didn’t care how gross this counter probably was, you just wanted to be close to him. He pushes himself between your legs and you could feel his hardness through his jeans. His lips find your throat and you gasp when he gently bites on your sensitive skin. His hand glides up your soft skin, over your bra and your nipple hardens as his palm grazes over your breast.

“Mmm…we should…stop…” You whisper against his neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispers, his tongue flicks out over the vein at your throat and you moan, clawing at his back.

“No…but…not here…somewhere else.” You gasp.

He pulls away from you and smiles sweetly, kissing you again and helps you down from the counter. You unlock the door, surprised to see that no one was waiting to kick you guys out and as you exit the bathroom he takes your arm and pulls you to him, kissing you deeply. Your back hits the wall and you smile against his lips, his hands fisting through your hair.

“Yeah, get it girl!” A woman says as she makes her way to the bathroom and the two of you pull away laughing. You take his hand and take him to the outside patio, you patted yourself down to make sure your phone and wallet was still in your jeans. You find a vacant picnic table and sit on top of it, shaking the nerves out of your hands as you stare up at him. He smiles, his dimples showing and you blush.

His hand cups your face and you lean into it, he kisses your lips softly and sits down on the bench beneath you. You smile, opening your phone and go to your word document app. He lights up a cigarette and you cringe, holding the phone towards him.

His eyes light up. “Is this it?” And you nod. He giggles, his eyes scanning the first few paragraphs. “Wow, you’re a really good writer…oh…” he meets your eyes, his wide and playful. You blush looking away from him and he laughs, his hand gently squeezes your knee. “This is…horny.” His hand squeezes your thigh and you have to suppress a moan that is about to escape.

“He puts his mouth on your…whoa…whoaaaaa…” he meets your eyes again, his face is flushed. “It’s hot, is it hot? I’m sweating. If I read anymore I’m gonna take you on this table.” He hands the phone back to you and you giggle, covering your face with his hands. He stands over you, the cigarette dangling from his lips. You take it from him, inhale on it, and pull his face towards yours.

“Breathe in.” You tell him, as you exhale and the smoke comes out, your lips barely graze and he inhales, stepping back a little letting the smoke glide out of his lungs.

He blushes and smirks at you. “That was in there wasn’t it?”

You nod, biting your lip, handing him the cigarette. He smiles large, snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray. He moves towards you, curling a piece of hair behind your ear. “You wanna get out of here?”

You stare into his eyes and nod. He grins, and as you’re about to open your Uber app he puts his hand over yours. “No need, I have a driver.” He nods to the back parking lot and you see a black livery car with a driver in the front seat. “Just tell me where to go.”

So, you tell him the direction to your house. You had snuggled up against his chest on the car ride, his hand softly rubs your shoulder and you pull up in front of your apartment building. He tells the driver to head back to the hotel and will call when he needs to get picked up. He follows you up the stairs to the second floor and you turn on your lights. You shut and lock the door, blushing again.

“Why do you keep blushing?” He teases, gently cupping your cheek.

“Because you’re in my apartment and have been kissing me all night.” You sigh. “And I’m confused on why out of all the beautiful women in the bar, you sought me out.”

“Well, none of those other beautiful women could sing Bohemian Rhapsody like you did.”

You roll your eyes. “If you were ten minutes earlier you would’ve seen my rendition of You Oughta Know.”

He laughs. “Now that would’ve made me beg for you.”

You’re not even all the way into your apartment before he’s kissing you. He practically drags you blindly into the living room and into the wall. He pushes his body against yours, kissing you deeply, his hands going over your belly and up your shirt. You gasp, gripping onto his forearms as he kisses down your chest, pulling your shirt over your head. His lips glide down your stomach until his on his knees, licking just above the button of your jeans and he pops the button. He gazes up at you, and your head falls back against the wall as he pulls your jeans down, and you step out of them. He grips your thighs, kissing them softly and his hands caress your backside. He pulls down your underwear and your entire body trembles, and you groan as his mouth goes on you like he was starving. You grip at his hair as he feasts on you, still pinching yourself because there was no way this was real and that he was doing this to you in your apartment.

His fingers glide inside you as he continues his feast, and you moan loudly, your body almost sliding down the wall but he holds you up with his free hand. He tells you to come in his mouth and your entire body reacts to his voice and how he curls his fingers deeper inside you. You tense up and you scream in pleasure loudly, holding onto the wall for support as you clench around his fingers and he moans against you. He pulls his fingers out of you and glides back up your body, kissing you passionately. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and he lifts you, you direct him to your bedroom and pushes open the door with his foot and he falls backwards on the bed, taking you with him. His hands move up your back as he kisses you and unhooks your bra, it falls down your arms and you toss it to the ground, straddling him and he bites back a moan as you scoot yourself back, pulling off his jeans. He sits up quickly, pulling his shirt over his head and you run your hand over his slightly toned tummy, crashing your lips against his. You couldn’t wait any longer for this, you end up pulling him out of the hole from his boxer briefs and you immediately lower yourself down on him.

A broken moan escapes you as he fills you up and his head falls back against the pillows. You rock your hips against him, your body trembles as his lips catch your nipple in his mouth and he gently bites down, you gasp loudly.

“Do you want me to beg?” He groans and you whimper as you rock your hips faster. You moan, a soft laugh escaping you and you nod. You move off of him, moving up his body like a snake and you kiss him deeply. You take his hands, holding both of them above his head, reaching down to take the belt you had on your jeans. His eyes light up and he giggles.

“Oh, we’re doing this.” He says with a chuckle, biting his lower lip.

“You’re an actor.” You smirk, wrapping the belt around his wrists and attached it to the bars on your headboard. “Act.”

“What if I’m not acting?” He clasps his hands together in the restraint.

You smirk, gazing down at him. “Even better.” You meet his soft lips, straddling him, and you could already tell he was getting frustrated because he couldn’t touch you. Your hand glides down his abdomen, over his hips and over his length. His lips buck and his eyes flutter close, a soft sigh escaping him.

You kiss his chest gently, running your tongue over his nipple and he groans. You meet his lips again, grinding your hips against his and reach down to touch him, you grip him hard and then stop.

“Please.” He whispers, almost whining.

“Please what?” You ask, smiling against his cheek, taking his jaw in your hand, turning his head to look at you and a seductive laugh comes out of his mouth with your forcefulness.

“Keep touching me.” He says, moving his face to kiss your lips. “I’m begging you.”

You grin, wrapping your hand around his length and fist him slowly. You lean down to kiss his neck and he moans as your hand picks up speed and his body is arching. “Let me fuck you.” He groans, struggling again. You meet his eyes, gently kissing him as your other hand reaches up to untie the belt from the headboard. His hands come down so fast, the belt goes flying and he’s taking your face in his hands, his tongue sliding into your mouth as he forces himself on top of you. He hooks your leg around his waist and pushing himself inside you hard. You moan loudly as he rolls his hips, the sensation of his speed and his pelvis grinding against you was causing you to feel so many different things at once. His noises were loud and so were yours, beautiful harmonies of two feral beings just needing to feel something.

Your orgasm was approaching fast and he could feel it too, so he slows down. Rocking into you slowly, gently, his lips soft against yours. His hands gently go through your hair and you didn’t know what was hotter: him taking his time with you or how animalistic he was moments ago. A whimper escapes you as you feel your orgasm approach, his breath was hot against your lips as your head falls back, and you’re holding onto his back as you come, this orgasm so much more powerful than the last one and he comes soon after you. His sounds deep, raspy, beautiful.

He lays with his head on your chest, catching his breath and you run your fingers over his hair. He looks up at you, cheekily grinning. “Now, that was a smut story.” He laughs loudly as you giggle, pushing him off of you and he falls to the floor with a thud. His head pops up as he looks at you, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Now it’s your turn to beg.”

the end

[all-mirth-no-matter]

Time After Time | Chapter Eighteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Tommy has an important question for Grace, Ada and Freddie get married, and someone else comes back from the dead

Warning: language

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 18: Trouble

Will it come to pass, or will I pass the test? You know what they say, yeah the wicked get no rest. You can have my heart, any place, any time.  Got so much to lose. Got so much to prove. God, don’t make me lose my mind.  — Trouble, Cage The Elephant

“Do you like races?” 

The way Tommy asked the question made your heart clench. 

You sat in the back room of the pub, peeking through a small crack in the doorway as you tried to remind yourself, It’s not real. You were trying to unsuccessfully distract yourself with the inventory as you stayed out of the way. 

But your eye caught the way Grace’s head tilted as she offered him her shy smile.

“Is it Cheltenham?” she asked sweetly. He hummed out a yes. “And you want to take me?” 

The way she emphasized the last word made you want to roll your eyes. 

You heard him clear his throat. “You’ll fit in. Prim, posh, like the rest of the rich girls who come in for these races.” 

You couldn’t help but look down at your own outfit, so dingy next to her deep red sweater and bright blonde hair, not a soft curl out of place. Get it together, you chastised yourself, completely over the self-loathing streak you’d been in lately. 

But the way Grace’s cheeks pinkened slightly at the compliment felt like twist of the knife already plunged into your psyche. 

This had been Tommy’s plan, you tried to remind yourself. The night before, after he’d come over from his altercation with Billy Kimber in the pub, he’d explained how he’d persuade the new barmaid to accompany them. 

You’d almost laughed at the way you had to remind him that he couldn’t just force someone to prostitute themselves out just because he said so. You had to remind yourself that in this period, with Tommy’s influence, he probably could. But you’d been successful in steering him away from that method. 

And while his proposal still felt very daunting, he’d decided to go the more flattering route. Still, you didn’t like the idea of leading her on. Not just because of your own feelings, but because you didn’t like putting someone in potential danger. Even if Kimber had good intentions (which you severely doubted, even though you’d never met the man), it wasn’t fun being blindsided that way. 

But Tommy had convinced you to ease her into it. Not to tell her something until there was something to tell. Again, you weren’t happy with it — but you’d come to learn how far Tommy was willing to bend on matters like these. 

You heard coins dropping on the counter, Tommy’s voice pulling back to their exchange. 

“Here, for the dress. Make it red.” 

“I’ll need more than that.”

Tommy huffed out an amused breath before you heard another coin be placed on the table. “That’s three pounds.”

“And how much did you pay for the suit you’ll be wearing?” 

“Oh, I don’t pay for suits.” You heard the clinking of glass as he collected the bottle of whiskey and glasses he’d asked for when he originally entered. Then he continued, “My suits are on the house, or the house burns down.”

“So you want me to go lookin’ like a flower girl?”

“What I want makes no difference. It’s not me you’re dressing up for.”

The sound of the snug window doors closed, and you felt yourself exhale, knowing the conversation between the pair had come to an end for now. A few seconds later, you heard the pub doors open and close, then the distinct sound of the snug doors close. 

Tommy had a meeting — some men who’d reached out wanting to discuss some potential business. 

After a few minutes, now back on the inventory, you got up and opened the door to the main room to check on something. You stopped when you noticed Grace leaning against the wall of the snug, her ear pressed against the window. She didn’t notice you, her concentration focused on overhearing whatever conversation was going on in the other room. 

You were deciding whether you should stop her, or continue to observe to see what she was up to, when the sound of singing began to grow louder from inside the snug. The singing caused her to push away from the wall, but not before her eyes finally met yours. Her mouth dropped in surprise before snapping shut as she tried to busy herself, but you didn’t miss the slight panic behind her eyes of being caught. She grabbed a crate of bottles and hustled into the side room behind the bar.

“All right, boys,” Tommy boomed as he opened the doors and gestured for them to exit, “when I know who knows what about what, I’ll let you know.” 

One of the men pushed the second man still singing out the pub door, and you caught the last bit of his song. 

“—I long to see the boys of the old IRA!”

Tommy shook his head as he set the bottle on the counter. 

“Pretty bold of them to sing that with the new Inspector running around,” you commented as you moved behind the counter, grabbing the paperwork you’d originally come out for. 

He huffed out a chuckle, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. “They’re only rebels because they like the songs.” 

You rose your brow, “Will they be back?” 

“Nah,” he shook his head, blowing out smoke. “They’ll go back to the Black Swan in Sparkbrook. I have to go, but tonight,” he pointed at you as he walked backwards toward the door. 

You nodded, a slight flush across your cheek at the bluntness of his comment. Only a few men sat in the far corners of the booth, but still, it wasn’t like Tommy was trying to be discreet. 

It’d been two nights in a row now that Tommy had closed out the day in your apartment. Nothing scandalous had happened either time— he hadn’t even kissed you since you’d gone to the races. Not that you were necessarily opposed to things moving a bit further — but knowing your luck the minute the two of you did, the world would swallow up into itself to stop you. 

The sound of Grace clearing her throat as she reemerged from the side room caused you to turn around. 

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” she began, and you were surprised at her gumption to address her obvious snooping. 

Your brow creased, “Really? You’re going to pretend like you weren't eavesdropping?” 

“I was just— they were my countrymen,” she stumbled, her eyes looking down to her hands. “I got curious. I know I shouldn’t—”

“No,” you emphasized. 

You could see her throat bobble. “I’ve never seen them before. I haven’t seen many Irishmen in this pub, really. It was a Republic song they were singing, wasn’t it?” 

“I think so,” you answered, still skeptic but curious. “Tommy said they don’t normally drink here.” 

“Oh,” she said, chancing a look back at you. “Did Mr. Shelby say where they do?” 

“Tommy wasn’t exactly whispering just now, I assume you heard him say where,” you answered. Her eyes dropped quickly, her cheeks pink as she met your eyes again. Unsure what her angle here was, your curiosity piqued. “Are you interested?” 

“I have no sympathies for them,” she said sharply, almost out of instinct. Her facial expressions shifted from disgusted to shameful, and then back to a forced neutral, as she must have realized her own tone too late. 

But in the quick moment, there was pain behind her eyes that you couldn’t help but notice. You didn’t completely understand, but you knew enough to know that what was going on with the division of Ireland at the moment was delicate. Especially with the reputation the Inspector had brought with him. And based on the history you knew, it was only going to get worse.

“I didn’t mean to imply—“

“The keg is empty, I’m going to refill it,” she said instead, avoiding your gaze as she went into the inventory room. 

“Grace.”

She stepped back into the doorway, her eyes still downcast. You waited for them to meet your eyes again before you continued. 

“Just… be careful.”

Ada had disappeared. You nor Polly had heard from her since Freddie came back and proposed to her at the train station, ignoring Tommy’s request for them to flee the city. 

So when a knock on your door startled you early in the morning, you were surprised to see the girl, who flew into your flat with a handful of white fabric. 

“YN, you’ve got to help me.” 

She threw everything in her hands to the bed as you asked if everything was okay. 

Turning around, her grin answered that question for you. “I’m getting married this morning. You have to help me get ready. Please.” 

Without another thought, you jump to start helping her. Her dress was beautiful white and ivory layered fabric that resembled very much what you imagined the women’s fashion was going to become. It was loose around her stomach, her baby bump finally prominent. 

“Where are you gonna go after the ceremony?” you asked, helping her tie the back of her dress. 

She sighed, “Nowhere.” 

“But I thought Tommy—”

“Freddie won’t have it. He’s insistent we stay here for now at least,” she said, her previous bubbly mood falling.

“Well since you’re staying, are you sure you don’t Polly to be here now? I mean, it’s not every day you get married.” 

She shook her head. “She’ll just try to stop me.” 

“And you didn’t think I would?” you asked, half joking. 

“I did.” Her answer surprised you. “I’m not an idiot, Y/N. I know that you and Tommy have been seein’ more of each other.” 

“It’s all still pretty platonic,” you countered, fiddling with a piece of her jewelry. When she creased her brow at your use of phrase. You offered her a shrug. “We’ve kissed, but I just can’t tell what he wants. I don’t even know if it’s a good idea, I just… I can’t help myself.” 

She gave you an empathetic smile, sitting with you on the bed as she took the jewelry out of your hand and replaced it with her own. “I may hate my brother right now, but I do love him. And I know him. I see glimpses of the boy he was before the war when he’s with you. Polly sees it too — we have a bet going on how long it’ll take before the two of you will make it official.” 

Your mouth gaped at that, shaking your head. “I’m choosing to ignore that comment.”

She chuckled. “Don’t worry, we wouldn’t dare say anything to Tommy. He’s nearly as stubborn as I am.” 

“Fine. But why then did you come here if you thought I was going to try and stop you?” 

She paused, biting her lip before fastening her shoes. “Because you didn’t tell Tommy about Freddie. He was genuinely surprised when I told him. Honestly, I’d assumed you’d told him already—”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know.” She offered you a smile before tilting her head. “And, I know you don’t normally like to talk about the deep things — at least, not with me — but… can I ask you, why?”

Ada hadn’t pried much into your life. It’d been one of the things you’d been more grateful for in your friendship. 

Honestly, previously you had assumed she hadn’t pried because of her immaturity. She was very much a carefree, live-in-the-moment kind of girl, keeping most emotions and conversations at the surface level. 

But the look on her face made you wonder if you hadn’t been giving the girl credit. Maybe she was all those things sometimes, but she really did surprise you on how sympathetic and slightly intuitive she could be when she wanted to. And maybe she’d always been aware of your aversions to personal prying this whole time. 

You took her hand and offered her a sincere smile. “I moved around a lot growing up. I found it difficult to make friends, even through adulthood. When I first got here, you welcomed me in when I had no one. You helped me make the most of this life I found myself in and helped me miss my old life a little less. You welcomed me into your family and you were always there to remind me of a cheerier world. I’ll always be grateful to you.” 

Ada pulled you into a hug. “I knew I made the right decision.”

You wiped away the small tear that’d rolled down your cheek as she pulled away, busing yourself with the final piece of the ensemble.

You stood up and began tying on her veil. It was so delicate and ornate, adorned with flowers around edge that matched the free spirit you’d always seen in your friend. 

You stood her up and smoothed out her veil, then turned her to face you, your eyes scanning for any final touches. When you were done, you took a step back and covered your mouth, your smile bursting. Her own smile widened at your reaction, turning to appraise herself in your mirror. 

“Oh Ada,” your heart was bursting, “you’re beautiful.” 

She blushed, her grin wide and excitement infectious. Despite the circumstances of her fiance, you really were happy for Ada. As the first person who’d accepted you in this new world, you felt very protective and loyal to Ada. 

It’d been why you kept her secret about Freddie from the rest of her family, and why you’d promised to wait and tell Polly until that afternoon, after you knew the ceremony was official. 

While anxious, the matriarch had taken the news better than you expected. Though you guessed she was anticipating them getting married, what she hadn’t was Tommy’s deal with the Inspector to get Freddie out of the city. 

Apparently, Polly’s attempt at ‘dealing with it peacefully’ hadn’t worked out the way she expected. Ada turned up at the Garrison flushed and out of breath, looking for either her brother or husband. 

“They’re gonna kill each other,” she’d nearly cried when you grabbed her arm, stabilizing her as she bent forward. 

“Ada, you need to calm down,” you tried to push the cup of water back into her hands. She breathed sharply as she rubbed her stomach. “This isn’t good for the baby.” 

“I don’t care,” she said through a haggard breath. “I have to find them. I have to try—“ 

You followed her outside and kept up with her until Freddie emerged from the stairway of a canal bridge. She threw herself into him, and you urged him to take her home and make her rest. You watched from the side of the road as they crossed it. 

“He’s going to ruin her life,” you heard Tommy’s deep voice behind you. 

“You can’t keep doing that to her,” you said without turning around. You felt him move beside you, both of you still looking in the couple’s direction until they turned down an alleyway. “The stress isn’t good for the baby. She nearly passed out in the pub just now worried you two were going to kill each other—“ 

“I should have.” 

“But you didn’t.”

He took a deep breath, “He loves her.” 

Your eyes shifted over to finally look at him, his eyes still staring at the empty alleyway. 

That was the first time he’d ever acknowledged their feelings for each other. You were convinced he thought Freddie was using Ada — hell, since they got back, you were tempted to start thinking that way too. It wasn’t a secret how dedicated he was to the communist party, and you knew most of the strikes around here were either spearheaded by Freddie himself, or encouraged by him. There were times you began to question what he loved more: Ada or his cause. 

But time and time again, Ada assured you that their love was real and strong enough to combat even Tommy’s fire. 

And now, it seemed, something had finally assured Tommy that Freddie wasn’t just in it for her last name. 

“What convinced you?” 

“When we were kids, Ada used to chase us around, shouting at us to slow down, to wait for her, to include her in our little games.” Tommy’s throat bobbled as you watched the reel move behind his eyes, lost in his childhood memories. “Freddie would always slow down. I never realized… or maybe I did.” 

He blinked, breaking the trance he’d been in as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a cigarette. He ran it between his lips and lit it. 

Blowing the smoke away, his eyes hardened. 

”He asked about the guns,” he said, his voice low despite the relatively secluded spot. “You haven’t told Ada—“ 

“No,” you said firmly, not letting him finish his question. 

He hummed approvingly. Another moment passed before he spoke again. “You never asked me why.” 

Your brow creased as you tried to decipher what he meant. 

“Freddie and me.” He blew out a puff of smoke. “I’ve seen you watch us, when we’ve been in the same rooms. You heard what he said in the pub the day Danny blew in. And I know Ada has told you how close we used to be. But you’ve never asked me why Freddie and I fell out.”

“You never offered,” you countered, meeting his eyes again. You crossed your arms, not sure what he was playing at with bringing this up now. When he brought the cigarette to his lips again, it was obvious he wanted you to continue. “I guess I just assumed you both returned from the war with different outlooks on the world. He doesn’t accept the powers-that-be and wants to change them.” 

He hummed, blowing out his smoke. “And me?” 

“Did you ever feel that way?” you found yourself asking, head tilted as you considered him. You hadn’t thought about it before, but it would have made sense. Freddie’s passions weren’t new, they were deep and rooted, and it would make sense for him to have been a member of the communist party either during the war or before. You were realizing now that there was a chance Tommy could have been entertaining the idea as well before he left. 

The way Tommy’s lips tightened into a hard line and he lifted his chin told you enough. But surprisingly, he offered you a short answer. “Once. Before.” 

“And now?” He didn’t answer that one. You took a deep breath as you continued. “Maybe you still don’t agree with the powers-that-be, but I don’t think it matters to you anymore. Freddie wants to change the world; you want to use it.” 

“I won’t let ‘em put us back in the mud,” he said, his voice calloused as he stared forward. He swallowed, “I need a drink.” 

Instead of walking toward the Garrison, where you knew Grace was closing up for the night, Tommy turned right, toward your apartment. 

You felt your breath let out, not realizing you’d been tensed up since Ada had blown into the Garrison. 

Catching up with Tommy, you decided to lighten the mood a little. “I’m gonna need to restock if you keep drinking all my whiskey,” you teased.  

He let out a humored breath. “Well, next time you’re at the Garrison, just grab a bottle on me.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah Harry would love that.” 

“Not up to Harry anymore what happens to the inventory.” 

Tommy let out a puff of smoke as you turned back to face him before letting him into your flat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I bought it.” 

“What?—“ your brow creased as his words sunk in. “You bought the Garrison? Can you even do that?”

“I made Harry a very fair offer,” Tommy said plainly as he made himself comfortable in your flat. It was beginning to feel less strange to have company. “He’ll stay on for as long as he wants and still manage the place.”

You felt a pang of sadness for the former owner. Harry loved that place, and always had such pride for it and its patrons. 

“But why?” You asked, starting to take your shoes off. Despite you traveling in time, there were still some little rituals that you just couldn’t shake. And taking your shoes off when you got home was one of them. 

Tommy began to pour two glasses. “Arthur needs some direction.”

“A distraction, you mean.”

He rose his brow, but nodded. “Regardless. He needs to keep his head out of the bloody bottle and on the business. Besides, weren’t you the one who said we needed to find a way to pass the influx of money coming in from the shop?”

It’s true, you had raised that question to Tommy recently after the Monaghan Boy win. Not that you knew much more about money laundering than you’d learned from watching Breaking Bad. But it’d apparently been enough to pique Tommy’s interest and take you seriously. 

Tommy was right though. What you’d been anticipating was finally coming to a head — Tommy was, for all intents and purposes, the head of the Shelby family and the Peaky Blinders. Arthur, who had been feeling the effects of his slow descent for the past couple months, was drowning his sorrows almost daily and picking a fight whenever he got the chance. You’d even begun watering down his drinks by the time he’d get to through half a bottle on nights when you were working in the pub and he was working his way to being sloshed. 

“You’ll have to help him,” Tommy spoke up after you didn’t comment. 

You breathed out a disbelieving laugh, “Like Arthur would ever listen to me.”

“You’ll have to make him,” he took a step toward you and offered you your drink. When you met his eyes, he smirked, “Like you did me.” 

You rose your brow. “You want me to nearly push him in the Cut and play a get-to-know-you drinking game with him?”

His smirk turned into a small smile, “Maybe not exactly like you did with me. But you’ll talk to him. You’ll reason with him. He’ll come to accept it.” 

“You’ve been promising he’d come to accept me for months now,” you countered. 

“And he has, you just haven’t noticed.” 

You shook your head, still not convinced and beginning to worry about how you’d get along with Arthur now that you’d be essentially working for him. 

“You two and can discuss the Garrison’s future at the next family meetin’.”

You rolled your eyes, half laughing at the comment. “The only reason Arthur invited me to the last one was to accuse me of influencing you. There’s no way he’d be cool with me coming to more—“

“He won’t have a choice.”

Your brow furrowed, “What does that mean?”

Tommy pulled your hand into his, causing you to stop pacing and stepped into you. The act surprised you, meeting his eyes again. They were soft, a small crease in the corners as he looked between your own, then to your lips. 

“You’re mine, ‘member?” his deep voice vibrated against you as he reached up and ran his thumb across your cheek, then down to your chin. You got deja vu from that first night outside of your apartment building as he reminded you of the words you’d said to him Christmas Eve in his bed. “Well I’m yours. We’re in this together, ya?”

Your heart pounded at his words. Whatever hesitations or insecurities you’d been feeling were gone as Tommy held you against him, his eyes waiting for your response. 

“Yeah,” you said easily, welcoming his lips to meet yours. 

His kiss was soft, a gentle tug that showed no signs of being rushed, but savored. You hummed contently into it as you felt his lips smile against yours. 

What was it about this man that made your brain go fuzzy and speech cease? Every time he brought his lips to yours, you felt like everything made sense. Like you weren’t standing in a room surrounded by puzzle pieces — but that the final piece was falling into place, even just for a moment. You laced your fingers through his hair, desperate to hold on to this feeling for as long as you could. Even if it was just a taste. 

He pulled away slightly, his forehead rest against yours as you caught your breath. “Whatever we face, whether it’s Arthur or Ada—“

“Or Kimber or Campbell,” you added with a slight mocking mirth. 

He breathed out a soft laugh and rolled his eyes. “Or whatever else might come our way — I know we can face it. Together.”

You lifted on your toes slightly to meet his lips again when a hard knock at your door caused you to jump. 

You and Tommy looked to each other confused — no one aside from Tommy or Ada ever came to your apartment. A second knock prompted Tommy to take the lead in opening the door as you grabbed for your bag with Polly’s gun inside. 

“Danny?” Tommy greeted opening the door wider for the formally dead man to come into your apartment. 

Danny Owens gave you a shy smile and wave before offering Tommy a salute. “Danny Whizz-Bang reporting, sir.”

You dropped your bag, pointing at the man and looking between him and Tommy. “You’re supposed to be dead.” 

Tommy nodded, “at ease. What are you doing here, Danny?”

“Charlie said to try here if you weren’t at your place,” he said before taking a seat. Tommy offered him the bottle of whiskey and he poured himself a drink. 

“So no one is gonna explain the very alive friend of yours sitting at my kitchen table?” you asked, still unsure what was going on. 

Tommy took a deep breath before running his hand through his hair. “It was a trick to fool the Italians. Danny’s been living in London, keeping an ear out. Apparently, there’s news he couldn’t wait on.”

“I was in a pub,” Danny began, gripping the edge of his hat in his hands. “It’s called the Mother Redcap, an Irish pub. I was talking to some old bloke about Birmingham. He said there’s been trouble. An IRA man shot. He said a lot, but the only bit I heard was that their high command think it’s the Peaky Blinders who shot him. I came up on the next boat to warn you.”

“I heard about that guy,” you said softly. “It was outside of the Black Swan. Was it one of the men you met with the other day?”

Tommy nodded.

You thought about the way Grace had eavesdropped on the men, and how she’d been so interested on where they were from. Your brain ticked that there was a connection there, but you brushed it aside on the grounds that you were just searching for something to be horribly wrong with her. While you believed she still had some kind of secret, you didn’t think she’d go as far as shooting someone. 

You looked down at your own hands, a vision of blood covering them from your own dirty deeds, and knowing that anything was possible. 

“Is it true?” Danny asked, pulling your attention back to the men in front of you. 

“No,” Tommy answered, taking a deep breath. “But lies travel faster than the truth.” He thought for a moment before gesturing toward Danny. “Get a message to them. Tell them to send someone to parley. Tell them there’s been a misunderstanding and we don’t want any trouble.”

Danny swallowed the rest of his drink before rising. He saluted Tommy again, then gave you a slight bow. “I will do my duty, sir. Ma’am.”

He left before you could ask anything more. “Tommy, what the hell—“

“Just another thing to add to the list,” he said, shaking his head as he grabbed his own glass and threw it back. “Right now, our focus is on Kimber. And tomorrow is Cheltenham. We’ve gotta be ready.”

>> next chapter: coming soon << chapter masterlist

[lecsainz]

SPANISH LOVE

pairings: carlos sainz x girlfriend!reader

request: fastest lap with carlos where the reader is his gf and surprises him by learning spanish?🥹 but drops it in so casually it took him a minute to even realise, and then he’s just so shocked and in love JJSJSS

authors note: so this is the first fic I wrote about carlos that's not a smau! let me spill the tea – I totally loved writing about him!

✩. . . masterlist !

Carlos was making his way back home after a frustrating race, his mind still replaying the moments that had led to a less than satisfactory result. The Ferrari had let him down again, and his disappointment was evident on his face. He trudged through the door of his place, exhausted and ready to unwind.

"Hey, babe!" your cheerful voice called out, breaking through his thoughts.

Carlos turned to see you in the kitchen, an apron on and a mischievous glint in your eye. You were focused on a pot, stirring something that smelled absolutely divine.

"Hey, cariño!" he replied with a small smile, already feeling a bit better just by being in your presence.

As he approached the kitchen, he couldn't help but feel grateful for having you in his life. Your support had meant everything, especially on days like this.

"So, what's cooking?" he asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.

You turned to him, a playful grin on your face. "Oh, just some Spanish magic. Thought I'd surprise you with a taste of home."

Carlos raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Spanish magic, huh? What are you up to?"

You chuckled softly. "You'll see. But first, let me ask you something."

He leaned against the kitchen counter, intrigued by your mysterious behavior. "Shoot."

"Do you know what 'gracias' means?" you asked casually, as if it was the most ordinary question in the world.

Carlos blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Gracias? Yeah, it means 'thank you'."

You nodded, your grin widening. "Good, good. What about 'amor'?"

"'Amor'? It means 'love'," he replied, his confusion growing.

You kept your eyes on his, and then, with a sly smile, you said, "And 'te quiero'?"

Carlos froze, his heart skipping a beat. He stared at you, his mind racing to process what had just happened.

"You... you know Spanish?" he finally stammered, his eyes widening in disbelief.

You shrugged nonchalantly, stirring the pot as if your revelation was no big deal. "Yeah, I've been learning a bit."

He stood there, absolutely stunned. All this time, he had no idea that you were learning his native language.

"But... why? How?" he managed to ask, his voice laced with astonishment.

You smirked, adding, "You know, just a little something here and there."

He squinted at you, trying to process your words. "Are you serious?"

You chuckled. "Yeah, I mean, why not? It's a beautiful language, and it's kinda handy when your boyfriend is a Spanish hottie."

Carlos couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You learned Spanish? For me?"

You nodded, a playful glint in your eyes. "Yeah, for you. I wanted to surprise you."

He set down his fork, his heart swelling with affection. "Wow, babe, that's… I don't even know what to say."

You smiled warmly. "You don't have to say anything."

He grinned, his heart feeling lighter than it had all day. "No, seriously, this is incredible. You learning my language just for me… It means a lot."

You reached across the table to hold his hand. "I'm happy you like it. And who knows, maybe one day we'll be able to have a whole conversation in Spanish."

Carlos leaned in, his eyes locked on yours. "I'd love that. And you know what? I'm falling in love with you all over again."

You blushed, your heart skipping a beat. "I'm falling for you too, Carlos."

And as the night wore on, Carlos couldn't help but reflect on the amazing woman he had in his life – a woman who could surprise him with the sweetest gestures, a woman who was willing to learn his language just to make him happy. In that moment, he knew he was the luckiest guy in the world, and he held you even closer, grateful for every moment you shared together.

[elllisaaa]

skz as love songs

-> pairing : skz x fem!reader

-> words count : 3.1k words

-> genre : fluff, hurt/comfort

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> author's note : i really enjoyed writing this, and i might have some ideas for longer fics based on songs because of this event lmao ! hope you will like this as much as i liked writing it !

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | 1k event masterlist

BANGCHAN

-> All of Me by John Legends  

"love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections"

→ You know that everytime you doubt yourself, you can count on Chan to remind you of your value, of how beautiful you are. In his eyes, you’re the prettiest girl in the world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. So he never understood how you could not see how incredible you were, how you could not see how perfect you were. 

“- But I’m not perfect…”

That’s what you always answer him everytime he tells you that, and everytime, he argues the same thing. 

“- Yes, but even your flaws are perfect, because you work on yourself and try to be a better person every time you make a mistake.”

And what can you say ? If you’re perfect, then Chan always has the perfect word to remind you of that, and the perfect hugs to comfort you. 

"‘cause I give you all of me, and you give me all of you"

→ Because when Chan loves, it’s with his whole heart, his whole soul. When he falls in love, he falls in deep, he falls in forever. Just like he throws himself in work because he’s so passionate about it, he gives his all for his relationship, he does whatever it takes to treat you right. 

“- Channie, you didn’t have to do all that…”

You were surrounded by candles and rose petals as you walked into your kitchen, your favorite meals on the counter, apparently homemade, and Chan standing in a suit in front of you, a warm smile on his face. 

“- Yes, I had to. I had to show you how grateful I am to spend another year with you, because you make me so happy.”

And that’s an understatement. Everytime you kiss him, he feels like the luckiest man on earth. One day, he knows that he’ll marry you. One day, he knows that he’ll have a family with you. One day, you’ll really hold his whole life in your hands, even if you already are with the way you make his heart beat and come alive. 

LEE MINHO

-> Cardigan by Taylor Swift

"you drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding"

→ Minho has always watched you very closely, knows every little shift in your mood just by your body language. He had learned every little part of you like the moves of his favorite choreo, one he’ll never get tired of, one he’ll never forget. He had taken care of you when you were at your lowest, always reminding you that it was okay not to be okay sometimes. 

“- I’m sorry…

- You don’t have to be sorry for that sweetheart, it’s normal to be sad sometimes but just remember that I will always be there to support you.”

It’s like his words were magical, as if without you needing to tell him all about what you had been going through, he already knew it all. Sometimes, you wondered if Minho was an angel, because one touch from him, one word from him, and suddenly it was like you were healed. 

“- Being weak is not a bad thing, it’s what makes you stronger.”

If only he knew how grateful you were to have him, because he was truly helping you become more confident and overcome your past. 

"I knew you’d come back to me"

→ Sometimes, he’d have his bad times too. And even if he encouraged you to open up about it, he couldn’t follow his own advice and distanced himself from you. Minho would not be very talkative, nor would he seek your affection like he normally would. But just as much as he’s patient with you, you are with him and he’s grateful that you understand that he needs time for himself. 

“- Can I be the little spoon tonight ?”

You smile at his question, and that’s all Minho needs to bury his face in your chest, sighing in relief when you hold him tight against you and run your fingers through his hair. 

“- Are you ready to talk about it ?”

Mimicking you, he nodded and took some time to think before telling you what was on his mind these past days. Minho’s love was like a little cocoon, a shelter far away from the world, where you could be honest with each other and spend everyday basking in each other's presence. Sometimes, love doesn’t need words. 

SEO CHANGBIN

-> I Think I’m In Love by Kat Dahlia

"I didn’t think it could be true, let alone that it would be you"

→ It’s not that Changbin doesn’t believe in love, that’s quite the opposite actually, but more so that he doesn’t have the time to think about it because of his job. But the day he met you, it was like fate giving him a sign, telling him that love wasn’t going to stay out of his life anymore. And as much as he tried to contain himself, he came to realize that maybe, he should let you enter in his heart. 

“- Do you feel the same ?”

Your glazed eyes plunged in his, and even if Changbin knew you were a little drunk, he couldn’t help his heartbeat to fasten.

“- I don’t know, what are you talking about ?

- Love.”

You out of all the people he knew was the least he expected to fall for, and even less to feel the same about him. But he wasn’t mad about it. In the end, love was never logical. 

"baby, I’m falling, I hope you catch me when I’ll land"

→ It’s how it felt to be with you : falling. Changbin never thought that the expression falling in love could one day find a literal meaning, but he was wrong. And Changbin also never thought that he would love this sensation, and he was wrong again. 

“- Are you okay Binnie ?”

He lifted his head to look at you, smiling at him so sweetly he felt like a teenager all over again. 

“- Yes… I was just thinking.

- About what ?

- How grateful I am to have you by my side.”

It was Changbin’s turn to smile when he saw your cheeks redden. But he had never been more serious. Because yes, it was a little scary to dive into the unknown like that, but it was also exciting to go for new adventures. Moreover, it was the firm conviction that you would be there with him, that you were falling with him, for him, that made it so beautiful to be in love with you.

HWANG HYUNJIN

-> Infinity by Jaymes Young

"baby this love, I’ll never let it die"

→ Hyunjin had always been a hopeless romantic, dreaming about living a fairytale since he was child. He viewed love as something enchanting, thrilling and ultimately beautiful. Nothing could ever deter him from chasing after you, because he knew for a fact that you were the love of his life, his soulmate. He knew it since the day you met, knew it since the first time your eyes crossed.

“- Don’t cry princess, I will be back in no time.

- I know, but still… I’m gonna miss you like crazy.”

It was the same thing every time he prepared to leave. No matter if it was for several months or just a few days. Everytime, it felt so wrong to be away from him, and he felt exactly the same. It was just another proof that you were made for him.

“- Me too, but we’re stronger than that, you know it. We’ll always figure it out, we’ll always find a way. As long as you’re mine and I’m yours, everything will be alright.”

Loving Hyunjin was like that sometimes, like the feeling of having finally found your home.

"‘cause you’re the reason I believe in fate, you’re my paradise." 

→ As an artist, Hyunjin had tons of sketchbooks filled with drawings of you. He liked to say that you were his muse, because even though he was not representing you, every piece of art he made was ultimately inspired by your person. It could be something you loved, some art style you told him you appreciated. In the end, everything was linked to you. 

“- Thank you for doing this for me princess, it means a lot to me.”

You kissed his cheek with a big smile on your face, admiring the painting of you he just finished and for which you posed for hours, sparkles in your eyes.

“- I’m always happy to help you create, and everytime it turns out amazing. I’m honored to be your inspiration !”

But you were so much more than that. You were his reason to live. You were his other half. You were the reason the colors were so bright in his world. You were the reason he felt everything so hard. 

“- You’re not my inspiration, you’re my muse.”

And he meant even above art. He would do everything in his power to keep you by his side forever. 

HAN JISUNG

-> It’s U by Cavetown

"if you’re hurt, then I’ll fix you, if you’re blind, then I’ll describe the view." 

→ Life has not always been peaceful for Jisung. Sometimes, it was hard to even go out and see other people. Sometimes, it was hard to even talk to someone else. But when it came to you, everything felt so easy, everything felt so natural. You were always willing to help him, to support him through his worst states. 

“- I’m bothering you, you have work to do. 

- Baby, look at me.”

Jisung obeyed and stared at your soft gaze, feeling tears pricking his eyes again. He wanted to stay here in your arms forever and never have to face reality ever again. 

“- You’re more important than everything else. I’ll always be there for you. Whenever you need me, just call, and I’ll be right by your side. You can count on me.”

And you knew you could count on him too. When you were too tired to do the dishes or the laundry, he’ll do it for you. When he was too tired to wash his hair or take off his makeup, you’ll do it for him. Everything you did for him, he’ll do it for you too. 

“- Thank you.”

Jisung often felt the need to tell you how grateful he was to have you in his life. Loving you was like being all cuddled in a warm blanket with a hot chocolate during a cold winter day. Loving you was comfortable. 

"it’s always been you."

→ He always made fun of his friends who loved to watch these silly romantic movies where the main characters fell in love at first sight, believing that it was not real and could never happen, especially to him. But you came into his life like a hurricane, and suddenly, everything turned upside down. 

“- When did you start liking me ?”

You pretended to think about it for several minutes, too long for Jisung who whined at you for being so mean to him, making you giggle so cutely. 

“- I’m joking baby ! I have liked you since Chan introduced you to me. You were very charming, you know… 

- You were more charming, gorgeous, beautiful. I was starstruck.”

Jisung grinned as you blushed from his compliments, but deep down, he felt butterflies erupting in his stomach all over again, just like the first time he saw you. He needed reassurance often, but when you said that type of thing, he was convinced that destiny had plans for the two of you. Even before he had known you, it had always been you. 

LEE FELIX

-> In Luv With U by Finn

"I’m in love with you, more than summer and afternoons."

→ You came into Felix’s life like a sunset on a warm morning, with the sound of waves crashing on the beach echoing in the distance and the scent of the sea. It was like summer love. It was soft, natural, without overcomplication. You didn’t think too much of what was happening between the two of you, and neither Felix did. All he wanted was to make the most of your time together.

“- You can open your eyes.”

As you listened to his whispered command, you discovered that he had laid a blanket on the sand and that a picnic was laying on top of it. You turned around to smile at Felix.

“- You prepared all that just for me ?

- Why wouldn’t I ?”

You only kissed him by way of answer, running excitedly to sit on the blanket while Felix contemplated your figure from where he was standing behind you. Yeah, why wouldn’t he do that for you when you brought sunshine back in his life ? And to say that he didn’t do the same to you would be a lie. You were a perfect match. 

"I don’t know where I belong anymore, I belong to you."

→ There were times during which Felix didn’t know if he made the right choices. He was the most positive person you knew, but sometimes, doubt overcame him anyway. But even when he was lost, Felix knew that he had someone to rely on, someone to talk to, someone to ease all his worries. Everytime, it felt like he was letting you see his raw emotions, but you never made him feel ashamed for that. 

“- It’s okay to feel like that sometimes Lixie, and I know that you’re strong and that you’ll figure it out. You always figure it out.”

Even if he wanted to believe it, you could see that a shadow was still casting the beautiful light of his eyes. 

“- And if I don’t ?

- Then I’ll be there to help you, and we’ll do that together.”

You smiled when you saw his own tugging at his lips. You were always here to remind him that no matter what happened, you would always be there. You were his focal point when he was lost, reaching out a hand for him to take and bring him back home, bring him back to you. 

KIM SEUNGMIN

-> Paris in the Rain by Lauv

"‘cause anywhere with you feels right, anywhere with you feels like Paris in the rain."

→ The first time Seungmin got to Paris, it was because of work, and he knew that you would love it here. So the next time he came to visit the city, it was with you. He spent the whole trip looking at you all excited about all the things you wanted to do, looking at you like you were holding his whole world in your hands. And you kind of were. 

“- Isn’t the view incredible !? I can’t believe some people get to see that everyday…

- You’re more pretty to look at, and I’m so lucky to be the only one seeing you every morning and every night.”

The blush creeping on your cheeks didn’t hold you back from returning the compliment. Seungmin didn’t know if it was the atmosphere, or the fact that it was the first time he had the chance to take you on a trip, but he felt his heart swell just knowing that he had you all for himself, that you were here with him and only him. 

“- You’re so cheesy…

- Yeah, but you love me.”

And neither of you could hold back the smiles stretching out your lips. 

"I look at you now and I want this forever."

→ It wasn’t rare for Seungmin to call you his wife in his head. In fact, he referred to you as that a lot as a joke, even when you were with other people. And everytime, both of you would laugh it off, even if you couldn’t help loving the idea of this silly little antic becoming reality. Because you knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand, you noticed how his ears and cheeks grew red as he introduced you to some of his friends as his wife. You smiled sweetly, not correcting him, but waited until later to talk about it.

“- So… Where’s my ring ?”

Again, Seungmin felt himself blush and whined, burying his head in the crook of your neck to hide his embarrassment. 

“- I’m sorry love, it just slipped from my mouth.”

He knew that he was going to marry you one day, but he didn’t want to rush things and scare you, hell, he didn’t even decide on a ring to buy you. He wanted to wait a little longer to be sure that you weren’t a dream that will soon vanish.

“- Well, I don’t mind it as long as I really become your wife.

- I love the sound of that.”

And you did too. Seungmin couldn’t wait to be yours forever, because that’s all he ever wanted. 

YANG JEONGIN

-> Dancing in a Daydream by Roses & Revolution

"it’s you and me, dancing in a daydream, just you and me, lost in the clouds."

→ Pushing open the door of your apartment, the smell of food hit Jeongin as soon as he stepped a foot inside, a smile spreading on his lips as he heard you greeting him from the kitchen. He quickly discarded his jacket and shoes before joining you, sliding his arms around your waist and spooning you into a back hug as you continued to chop off vegetables. 

“- How was your day baby ?

- Exhausting… All I wanted was to be home with you, couldn’t stop thinking about coming home.”

You nobbed your head along, sliding the vegetables in your pan before turning around and cupping his face.

“- Well, you’re with me now, nothing to worry about anymore.”

Jeongin hummed happily, burying his face in your hair and holding you tight against him. Yes, just you and him, it was all he needed. 

"and if I open my eyes, if I open my eyes, will it all unravel ?"

→ Jeongin tried to be as sneaky as possible in order to not wake you up as he got out of bed and went to the kitchen. He grabbed a glass and filled it up with cold water, hoping that it would help him get over this bad dream. It happened rarely, but when it did, it was always very frightening. He almost didn’t notice when you joined him, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“- What are you doing awake baby ?

- I… I just had a nightmare, don’t worry.

- You want to talk about it ?”

You sat down with him on the couch, straddling his lap and running your hands through his hair to soothe him.

“- It’s stupid really… I was coming home and you were not there, and I searched for you everywhere and couldn’t find you. It was as if you never existed. It was so scary, I felt so lost without you.

- But I’m here, yeah ? I’ll always be there, I promise, I’m not going to disappear.”

Jeongin smiled at you before he kissed you softly. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that you were his, because you were such a dream come true, and he wished to keep you by his side as long as you’ll let him.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

skz taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@binwons @minnies-babie @yoongles2025 @thicccurls @caitlyn98s @hildaortara @sharonxdevi

[gravedigginbbydoll]

An Extra Step

Eddie Munson x Bilingual! GN Reader

AN: Heyo! So, I was randomly inspired to write this little blurb. I'm sorry for being AWOL so much, grad school has been kicking my ass. I promise to update my current WIPs as soon as I can. Anyways, this is based on myself being bilingual :) In the blue text is when the other language is spoken. I kept it vague and not specific so that other people who may be bilingual or have English as a second language could relate.

CW: mentions of food, mentions of family, mentions of childhood, no gender mentioned, pet names, kissing, emotional, fluffy

It started as a tiny thing, a little nudge from deep within. It was a warm summer day in Hawkins, you and Eddie relaxing in the trailer. Wayne had given you two your own trailer (right next to him, of course), and you had a jar on the table, coins and dollar bills stacked up in it, determined to get your own place one day together. Preferably a house or apartment, but that was a worry for later. You and Eddie were lounging about, you perched at the kitchen while Eddie was sprawled out on the sofa, attempting to cool off. You leaned against the counter, reading a postcard you’d received from a family member. You giggled at the message they wrote, peaking Eddie’s interest. He smiled, turning to you, sitting up a bit. 

“What’s so funny, babe?,” He asked, cocking his head in that golden retriever way, his eyes curious. 

You bit your lip, unsure how to explain. “Uh well… my cousin wrote me a postcard,” You explained, shrugging. 

Eddie walked over, looking over your shoulder at the note before he deflated a litte. “Oh. It’s not in English,” He stated, a bit disappointed. 

You nodded, biting your lip, thinking. You explained the joke briefly, giggling while doing so, but Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed and you felt your heart sink a bit. 

You never told Eddie, but sometimes you felt like you lost yourself little by little without your first language. Jokes translated incorrectly, you were unable to express certain things in English, and you felt like a part of yourself was dimmed. You wished Eddie could understand your family and even your own moments of frustration, when that little piece of you slipped out, only for him to look a bit confused.

You shook your head, smiling awkwardly, and putting up the letter. “Nevermind…It’s not as funny in English.” You put up the card, taking Eddie’s hand over to the couch. “C’mon. Let’s watch a movie.” 

Eddie could see the pain in your eyes when he didn’t understand your native tongue. He felt his heart squeeze each time, cursing himself for not learning it the moment he learned you had another piece to your puzzle. 

Which was what prompted the secret research. 

Fuck, Eddie had never even studied for school exams this hard. 

He started his search at the library, asking around and trying to see if there were any classes nearby. He learned there were some lessons and books around, though they had to be ordered and the meetings were three towns over. But anything to see you smile. 

Eddie poured over the books, kept a secret journal with all his notes from the clubs he attended (which truly were just people who spoke the language getting together to talk and exchange snacks, some of the older ladies pinching Eddie’s cheeks and smiling over at him.).

He knew you were suspicious, consistently glancing over at him confused when he would show up from the meeting late in the night, lying to say it was extra work hours. 

He poured over cassettes you had in your native tongue when you weren't home, learning the lyrics to your favorite songs. 

Hell, he even began trying to think in the language. (Easier said than done, he had no idea how you balanced the two)

But it was all worth it for that night. 

Eddie had taken the day off, gone to the international grocery store that was miles away, only to drive back, and begin prepping. He was making a meal he remembered you saying you missed, something near and dear to your heart and childhood. He knew it would take a bit of prep work and sweat, but Eddie was willing. 

He grinned to himself, heart swelling with pride. 

He couldn’t wait. 

When you walked through the door that night, you felt your heart stop. Familiar smells that you hadn’t smelled in years floated through the kitchen, your heart racing. You heard Eddie singing along softly in the kitchen, your native tongue clumsy on his lips, but making your heart swell, your eyes water a bit. 

“E-Eddie? What’s all this?,” You asked cautiously, eyebrows furrowed, eyes watering and blurring your vision. 

“It’s your favorite…I figured you deserved a treat!,” He replied…in your language. It was clumsy, the pronunciation not perfect. But your breath caught nonetheless. 

“You did all this…for me?,” You whispered, clutching tightly at your heart as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

Eddie smiled softly, walking over, softly running a finger under your chin to look up at him. “Of course. I love you,” He whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. 

Tears streamed down your face, vision blurred as you threw your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder, your heart overflowing with emotions, your hands clutching at him. You whispered ‘I love you’ over and over, sobs racking your shoulders as Eddie held you, rubbing your back, kissing the top of your head. It meant the world to finally hear those words in your tongue and being able to whisper it back.

That night was filled with warm and full bellies, laughter and leading Eddie through pronunciation, learning of his secret little escapades (So that’s why he hadn’t been as hungry! Those little grandmas were stuffing him with food…) and showering Eddie with kisses. 

Never in your life had you felt so seen and loved. 

Eddie Munson was it for you.

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, mention of violence, swearing, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts, slow burn

Word count: +4,5k

A/n: the next 3 chapters won’t follow Scream 6 plot as I wanted to add more storyline to the characters outside of the movies. If you want to read just Scream 6 plot, skip to Part 12. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Iris wiped down the counter of the bustling coffee shop she worked at, her focus shifting to the door as it swung open. Tara walked in, beaming, and Iris's face lit up with surprise. "What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, stepping around the register.

"I finished earlier today so I thought I'd come visit you! How's your day been?" Tara leaned on the counter, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Extremely busy, talked to way too many people today, my social battery is over". Iris replied, rolling her eyes tiredly. "And don't even get me started on the Karens and the grumpy customers".

Tara laughed a little bit at her distress as she rubbed her shoulder in comfort. "But tell me, What about you?"

"Same old, we learned some things about movie making and then we watched a short film, it was a great day". Tara replied. "I was thinking we could check out that new taco place tonight. You in?"

Iris grinned, her excitement bubbling. "Absolutely!. I can't wait to relax" They exchanged ideas, the hum of the café fading as they planned their evening, savoring the joy of just being together.

Iris wiped her hands on her apron, leaning closer to Tara. "You have no idea how much I needed this surprise," she said, brushing her hand softly against Tara's.

Tara smiled, her voice softening. "I just wanted to see you. How about we get some beers with those tacos?"

"That sounds perfect," Iris replied, her heart fluttering at the thought of their evening. "I think you just made my day ten times better".

Just as Tara opened her mouth to respond, Miles, Iris's coworker, chimed in from the other side of the counter. "Hey, Iris, can you stop flirting with your girlfriend and get back to work?"

Both women flushed, exchanging quick glances. "We're just friends!" Iris blurted, her cheeks burning.

"Well can you and your friend stop flirting with each other and get back to work?".

"... We were not....". Iris paused mid-sentence as she noticed Miles turning away to focus on the coffee machine, oblivious to her response. "Okaaaay," she said with a sheepish smile at Tara. "Can you give me just five minutes? I need to help with the line forming." Tara nodded, a playful glint in her eye, and Iris turned back to her work, stealing glances at her friend as she poured drinks and took orders.

Iris busily attended to the steady stream of customers, exchanging smiles and friendly greeting as she prepared drinks. The shop buzzed with energy until the final customer stepped in.

It was a girl around their age, she had blonde wavy hair that framed her heart-shaped face. Her striking green eyes were bright and expressive and she had a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, while her confident smile reveals a hint of playfulness. She was pretty and she definitely knew it.

"Hello, what can I get for you?".

The girl, with a confident grin, approached the counter. "Hey there, can I get a caramel macchiato?".

"Sure anything else?"

"That depends, do you want to drink something?" She winked, her flirtation unmistakable.

Iris blushed under this girl's gaze, she wasn't used to this type of attention. She chuckled awkwardly, trying to remain professional. "Just the macchiato then". she replied, glancing at Tara, who stood nearby, her expression darkening with each passing second.

The girl jokingly pouted and then she gave her card. "How come I never saw you here... Iris?". She asked as she tried to read her name tag.

"You probably did, you just don't remember".

"I'm pretty sure I would".

Tara crossed her arms, her jaw tightening as she watched the interaction unfold. Iris turned to start making coffee, but the girl walked around the counter to keep talking to her.

"I'm Ashley, nice to meet you," the blonde said, her smile bright.

"Likewise," Iris replied, trying to remain friendly. Tara felt a surge of annoyance—why was Iris being so nice to this girl?

Finally it seemed that Ashley felt someone sending daggers at her way and she turned around, seeing Tara for the first time and she quickly took notice of the girl's face.

"You guys together?" Ashley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Before Tara could respond, Iris quickly answered, "She's my best friend."

"Oh cool," Ashley said, smirking at Tara, who scoffed in indignation.

"Here's your coffee," Iris said, trying to shift the focus back.

"Thank you, cutie," Ashley said, and Tara almost gagged in disgust. Who even said that these days?

"Would it be too bold of me to give you my number?" The way the blonde leaned in closer made Tara's stomach churn, and she couldn't help but glare, silently willing Iris to step back and focus on her instead.

"I mean, I... sure?" Iris stammered, caught off guard.

Ashley grabbed a napkin and scribbled her number, quickly handing it to Iris. "Don't feel pressure to call me, but I'd really like it if you did." With a final smile, she turned and left, leaving Iris staring at the napkin in surprise.

As Iris turned to wipe the counter once again, she caught Tara's eye and noticed the mix of irritation and sadness on her face.

"What?" Iris asked, noticing Tara's tense expression.

"Nothing. I can't believe you accepted her number," Tara replied, frustration lacing her voice.

"I didn't want to be mean," Iris defended.

"Well, are you going to call her?" Tara shot back.

"I don't know, maybe? I haven't really thought about dating again, but it might be good for me."

Tara lowered her gaze for a moment before meeting Iris's eyes again. "Yeah, who knows?"

"You okay?" Iris asked, puzzled by Tara's sudden shift in mood.

"Yeah, I'm just getting a headache. I'm gonna head home. See you there." Without waiting for a response, Tara turned and left, leaving Iris staring after her, a mix of concern and confusion swirling in her mind.

A few days later, Iris found herself sitting across from Ashley at a trendy little restaurant. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and clinking glasses, but Iris felt a tightness in her chest. She wasn't sure on going on this date but she figured what's the worse that could happen? She needed to move on somehow and maybe going on dates would help her. When she mentioned her date to Sam and Tara, Sam had looked surprised, cautioning her to be careful, while Tara simply told her to have fun before retreating to her room. The sudden shift in Tara's demeanor left Iris feeling confused and slightly hurt as she didn't understand why Tara was suddenly avoiding her.

As the conversation flowed, Iris attempted to focus on Ashley's stories, but her thoughts drifted back to Tara, a constant, unwelcome distraction. Ashley was charming and confident, her laughter infectious, yet each time she leaned in closer, a flicker of doubt ignited within Iris.

The memories of her last relationship flooded back, betrayals that left scars she hadn't fully healed. And she found herself wondering if she could ever go past that. Everytime they laughed she kept thinking if Ashley was going to pull a knife and stab her in the stomach until she realized how insane she was sounding.

"So, what do you like to do for fun?" Ashley asked, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"I, um... I like hanging out with friends," Iris replied, her thoughts drifting to how much she missed Tara's presence. "Especially Tara. She's always up for something fun."

Ashley raised an eyebrow, a hint of annoyance flashing across her face. "Is that the girl from the other day?" At Iris nod of acknowledging, she continued. "Sounds like you really enjoy her company."

Iris bit her lip, realizing she had mentioned Tara too often. "Yeah, she's important to me," she admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.

As the date continued, Iris struggled to engage. She kept imagining Tara's smile, her laughter, and the way she seemed mad at her when she left that night. The connection with Ashley felt forced, and every time she tried to push aside her lingering trust issues, they bubbled back to the surface.

By the time dessert arrived, Iris knew this wasn't working but she continued engaging on the date to not make it worse for the other girl who was clearly trying. When the bill came, Ashley offered to pay but Iris declined as she felt like it was the least she could do, after all, she wasn't really planning on seeing her again.

As they wrapped up the evening, Iris smiled weakly, grateful for Ashley's tries, but deep down, she felt a mix of relief and disappointment.

After their date, Ashley walked Iris home, their footsteps echoing softly against the pavement until they reached her front door.

"This is me," Iris said, managing a weak smile. "Thank you for coming with me."

"It's no problem, really," Ashley replied, stepping closer with a hint of eagerness. "So, I had fun—maybe I can get a kiss?" She leaned in confidently, and in that moment, Iris felt an overwhelming sense of uncertainty. As their lips touched, she felt... nothing. The kiss was light and fleeting, and Iris pulled back almost instinctively, a wave of confusion washing over her.

"I'll see you Ashley". The girl quickly realizing that Iris wasn't going to invite her in, said goodbye and left.

When she stepped into her apartment, the familiar scent hit her, but it did little to lift her spirits. She sighed heavily, letting her purse and jacket tumble onto the sofa, feeling the weight of the world settle on her shoulders. The silence enveloped her as she trudged to her room, her feet dragging across the floor. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she dropped her head into her hands, disappointment curling in her chest.

It wasn't long before the sound of approaching footsteps broke the stillness. She looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, concern etched across her face.

"Hey, so the date didn't go well? Did she suck?" She asked, trying to inject some levity into the moment.

"She was actually really charming and nice," Iris replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Then why do you look like that?" Sam pressed, her brow furrowed with worry.

"I just can't," she murmured, frustration lacing her words.

"Can't what? Have fun on a date? Of course you can."

"Do you have fun on dates?" she shot back, her heart racing.

"I don't go on dates at all," she admitted, her tone somber.

"And why is that?" she asked, sensing the familiar heaviness that hovered between them.

"You know why," she said quietly, their shared history hanging in the air like a ghost.

They both sighed, the sound filled with a shared despair. "Then I guess you also know why I didn't have fun today," she confessed, feeling the sting of her own vulnerability. "She was sweet, and maybe if I didn't carry all this baggage, I could have actually liked her. But I spent the whole night fighting with my thoughts, literally thinking about anything and Ashley was the last thing on my mind."

"What else did you think about?" Sam asked, her gaze piercing yet gentle.

"Just stuff. It doesn't matter," she replied, but they both knew it did.

"I understand that. Are you going to start therapy? You study psychology and yet you don't go," she nudged, a note of concern slipping into her voice.

"I know, I have to. I thought I could do it by myself, but clearly, it's not working," she admitted, shame creeping in.

Sam moved beside her, enveloping her in a tight hug, the kind that felt like a lifeline. "Eventually, we are going to be fine," she whispered, the warmth of her words wrapping around her like a security blanket.

"Aren't you afraid you're never going to love someone again?" she asked, the vulnerability creeping back in.

"It's not something I'm thinking about right now," she replied, though her eyes revealed a deeper turmoil. "But you, Iris, you have to understand that nothing that happened was your fault."

"What if that's the only type of love I'm ever going to get? Toxic and manic?" Her voice trembled, the fear clawing at her insides.

"One day, you're going to find someone who will love you the way you deserve to be loved, warm and healthy," she reassured her, her sincerity grounding her.

"I hope so," she whispered, the hope feeling like a fragile thread.

"Who knows? Maybe it's someone you already know or someone you haven't met yet," she said, a hint of optimism breaking through.

"I'm just scared, Sam. I'm so angry and terrified that I will never love again," she confessed, the tears threatening to spill.

"Don't think like that okay? That love is going to knock on your door one day, and I hope you don't let it go to waste," she replied, her voice unwavering.

"One day, you're going to find it too, you know?" Iris added softly.

"We will see. Now come here," she said, pulling her into another embrace, a moment of solace amidst the storm.

Just then, a knock on the door interrupted their quiet moment. Tara entered, her expression shifting to concern as she assessed the atmosphere.

"Hey, I saw you were here," she said, her eyes flitting between the two. "Are you guys okay?"

Sam stood up to give them space. "Yeah, I'm gonna go to my room. You guys talk," she said, offering a soft smile before slipping outside.

Tara settled next to Iris, who looked at her in surprise. "I thought you didn't want to talk to me," Iris said, her heart racing.

"Why wouldn't I?" Tara murmured, her gaze dropping to the floor, a hint of sadness in her tone.

"I don't know, but I'm glad you're here," Iris said, tentatively reaching for her hand. Their fingers brushed, sending a small spark through her.

"Did you have fun?" Tara asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Not really," Iris admitted, the weight of her disappointment still heavy.

"Why not?" Tara probed gently.

"It turns out I'm too traumatized," Iris laughed quietly, the sound tinged with bitterness. "Also, I just didn't like her."

"Well, she certainly did like you a lot," Tara remarked, a small scoff escaping her lips.

Iris chuckled at that, warmth spreading in her chest. "I don't care. I'd rather be here," she said, her fingers intertwining with Tara's. "With you."

She felt Tara's sharp intake of breath and the way her grip tightened. "I'm glad. I'd rather be here with you too," Tara whispered, her eyes searching Iris's.

Tara leaned in closer, their shoulders brushing, the warmth radiating between them. Iris could feel the soft thud of her heart, an echo of hope. They sat in a comfortable silence, fingers still intertwined, the weight of the past lifting just a little in the warmth of their connection.

Two months had slipped by since that failed night and Iris and Tara had gotten closer than ever. Their friendship had deepened, filled with laughter, late-night talks, and moments that made Iris's heart race. Yet every time the atmosphere turned slightly out of the friendship context—when their hands brushed or their eyes lingered a moment too long—something within Iris would clench, and she would pull away, retreating into her protective shell.

When Iris returned home from work, she felt a sense of excitement bubbling inside her. She had planned a night in with Tara and Sam, as it was her turn to pick a movie and she decided to go with a classic one she knew Tara would love and  she also packed a bag of her favorite snacks. The smell of home assaulted her nostrils as she unlocked the door of their shared aparment. 

Iris stepped inside and paused, taking in the sight of Tara sprawled on the sofa, her hair slightly disheveled and a silly smile on her face as she looked up from her phone. "Hey, girl!" Iris beamed, plopping down beside her, the cushions sinking beneath them. "So, I found the perfect movie for today. It's kinda old, don't know if you know it, but I think you'll love it!"

Tara grimaced slightly, her brow furrowing as she cleared her throat. "Mmm, I can't today."

"Why not? You okay? We can do something else..." Iris's heart sank at the prospect of their plans being changed.

"I have a date," Tara announced.

"What?" Iris's voice rose an octave, disbelief washing over her.

"I have a da—" Tara began, but Iris quickly interrupted "Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time."

"Since when do you have dates?" Iris emphasized the word "dates," making exaggerated air quotes with her fingers, disbelief and annoyance flooding her senses.

"Since now," Tara replied, her tone nonchalant as she met Iris's gaze.

"But why?" Iris pressed, a knot in her stomach tightening and she didn't really understand why.

"Well, it's easy, Iris. If you want someone to go on a date with you, you just ask them." Tara fixed her with a serious stare. "So he asked me, and I said yes."

"Now why the fuck would you say yes?" Iris stood abruptly, a surge of frustration fueling her actions.

"Why wouldn't I? Maybe going out with someone would do me good." The words felt like a punch to Iris's gut, echoing the same phrase she had given to Tara when she had gone out with Ashley, which only made her blood boil.

"Well, you can't go," Iris declared, as if she had the final word in the matter.

"What the fuck? Of course I can go!" Tara shot back, rising from the sofa as well, the tension in the room palpable.

"No, you can't! It's dangerous! You don't know who this person is! What if he's some random trying to be Ghostface?" Iris's protective instincts were on high alert, her heart racing.

"Bullshit, you didn't think about any of that when you went out with Ashley!" Tara retorted, her frustration matching Iris's.

"It's different," Iris countered, her voice rising as they stared each other down, the atmosphere crackling with unspoken emotions.

"Why?" Tara demanded, her eyes challenging Iris to say something, the air thick with tension.

"What's his name? Do I know him? What does he look like?" Iris fired off a rapid series of questions, anger overtaking her.

"What's up with all these questions?" Tara stood her ground, a mix of irritation and curiosity on her face.

"I'm just asking, that's all! You're still not answering!" Iris felt her pulse quicken.

"This is insane. It almost sounds like you're jealous," Tara said, her voice low and curious, a smirk forming on her lips at the idea. "but that would be impossible, right?"

"Of course it would be impossible, jealous? Me? I'm not jealous! Don't be ridiculous! I'm only asking because I'm worried about your safety! They could be a total creep for all I know!" Iris's emotions spilled out, raw and vulnerable.

"Eee, what's going on?" Both Sam and Mindy appeared from the kitchen, drawn by the rising tension in the room.

"Tara is going out with a potential killer" Iris declared dramatically.

"Iris, what the fuck?" Tara looked incredulous.

"What?" Sam was now fully alert, glancing back and forth between them.

"No one is a potential killer. His name is Drew, and he's Chad's friend from football," Tara clarified, rolling her eyes.

"And? C'mon, Sam, back me up!" Iris implored, frustation creeping into her voice.

Sam hesitated, torn between agreeing with Iris and her sister's firm stance. She sensed the urgency in Iris's eyes but also the pleading look in Tara's expression. Seeing Iris acting so weird about it was definetely something to talk about, maybe this would be the push the girl needed to finally do something. Plus she had a tracking device on Tara, she will be keeping an eye on her. "Okay, go, but you message me all the time, and I'm keeping the tracker," Sam finally relented.

"You still have that tracker? Jesus, Sam," Tara remarked, half-amused, half-annoyed. Sam simply stared at her, unwavering. "Fine."

Iris felt a wave of disbelief wash over her. "So just like that?" She couldn't hide her shock.

"Just like that," Tara affirmed, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as she patted Iris's arm before heading to her room to get ready.

"I can't believe you let her go!" Iris exclaimed, her disbelief bubbling over.

"Well, what did you want me to do? Lock her up in the room?" Sam countered, her brow raised in challenge.

"Yes!" Iris's response came out sharper than intended.

Mindy, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with barely contained laughter, chimed in. "You're so jealous I almost feel sorry for you." she declared, amusement lighting up her face. "But then I remember you are an idiot and I go back to normal".

"For the last time, I'm not jealous!" Iris shot back, her cheeks flushing.

"Saying it ten thousand times doesn't make it true!" Mindy teased, her laughter infectious.

"Fuck off, Mindy, and fuck you too, Sam!" Iris huffed, storming off to her room. "Fucking traitor" She mumbled under her breath. As she slammed the door behind her, she could still hear the sound of their laughter echoing down the hall, only fueling the fire of her annoyance.

Inside her room, Iris paced back and forth, the weight of her emotions crashing over her. She didn't understand what she was feeling but she hated it and she needed it to stop. She tossed her phone onto the bed, staring out the window at the night sky, which seemed to reflect her inner turmoil. The thought of Tara laughing with another person, enjoying a night that could be shared with her, twisted her stomach into knots but she wasn't fucking jealous, she was just worried. Honestly who the hell would name their child Drew?.

Iris lounged on the sofa, the soft fabric cradling her as she flicked through channels mindlessly, the muted glow of the TV casting gentle shadows around the room. She had lost track of time, her thoughts drifting between the day's events and the comforting rhythm of her breathing. Just as she began to feel the weight of solitude, the front door creaked open, and she turned around meeting with Tara who gently waved at her.

Iris's expression went from surprised to concern, it was still too early for her date to be over. "Tara!" Iris jumped up. "You're back already?"

"Yeah, it was... not great," Tara admitted, biting her lip as she approached Iris. "I realized pretty quickly it wasn't what I wanted."

Iris couldn't help but admire Tara as she stepped through the room, the soft glow of the hallway light catching the shimmer of her dress. The deep emerald fabric hugged her curves in all the right places and a delicate silver necklace, adorned with a small, glistening pendant, glinted as she moved, adding a touch of elegance. Tara's hair fell in effortless waves around her shoulders, framing her face beautifully, and Iris felt a swell of admiration, thinking how effortlessly stunning her friend looked, an image that would linger in her mind long after the day ended.

"Oh, that sounds awful. I'm really sorry," Iris said, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, frustration and embarrassment swirling inside her. She had replayed the incident in her mind, and while the anger lingered, it was overshadowed by her embarrassment over her own outburst.

"Na, it's okay. I don't really care," Tara replied, settling onto the couch beside her. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her casual demeanor surprising Iris. "Plus, he wasn't really my type."

Iris couldn't help but chuckle at Tara's attempt at humor. "What's your type then? Muscular guys, blondes?"

Tara paused, her gaze fixed on Iris as if she were analyzing her, weighing her words carefully. "Brunettes with a terrible sense of humor."

"That's oddly specific," Iris laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Is this the moment you tell me you have a crush on Chad?" She pretended to gag dramatically, eliciting a soft smile from Tara, who continued to gaze at her with an intensity that made Iris's heart flutter.

"Oh yeah, the love of my life," Tara teased, and they both burst into laughter. "Maybe we can watch a movie?"

"You're not tired?" Iris asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not for you," Tara replied, a soft grin spreading across her face. Iris felt a warm blush creep up her cheeks, so she looked away, nodding in agreement. "Give me five minutes so I can get into my pajamas."

A few minutes later, Tara returned, her comfy sweatpants and oversized tee a stark contrast to her earlier outfit. They settled onto the couch, the soft cushions sinking beneath them as Tara reached for the remote, while Iris pulled a cozy blanket over their laps. As Tara scrolled through the options, Iris found her voice again.

"I'm sorry," Iris blurted out, guilt flooding her system. "I shouldn't have freaked out earlier. I just—"

"No, Iris, it's okay," Tara interrupted, stepping closer. "I get it. You care about me. I just... I didn't expect you to be so upset about me going out with someone."

"But I get it, with everything that happened last year, it's not easy to trust people".

Iris was surprised by Tara's understanding and as she nodded in agreement she couldn't help but feel bad as it felt like she was lying. She just didn't know at who, Tara or herself.

"Still, I'm sorry, it won't happen again".

"Okay, I appreciate it". After a few moments of silence, Tara spoke again, glancing up with a smile. "I found this rom com, thought it might be fun."

"I'm in," They exchanged casual remarks about the movie, the tension from earlier fading away, replaced now by a cozy atmosphere.

As the story unfolded on screen, Iris felt Tara shift closer, their thighs brushing against each other. She glanced at the girl who was utterly absorbed in the film, her eyes bright and animated.

She felt Tara move uncomfortably in the couch just as she brought the blanket closer to her.

"You know you're taking all the blanket away from me," Iris said with a playful grin, her voice light with amusement.

Tara looked at her, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm cold," she replied, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips, her eyes darting back to the screen.

"Well, come closer then," Iris suggested, her tone inviting.

Iris felt the warmth of Tara's body enveloping her, a soothing presence that made her heart swell. She instinctively draped her arm around Tara, pulling her closer. Tara nestled into her side, letting out a contented sigh that sent a rush of warmth through Iris.

"Is this okay?" Iris asked softly, glancing down at Tara, who was now looking up at her with a smile.

"More than okay," Tara replied, her eyes sparkling.

"You know, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked," Iris said, wiggling her eyebrows. Moments later, she felt a gentle slap on her arm.

"You think you're funny but you're just a little shit"

"Thank you". Iris couldn't help but smile, feeling a wave of affection wash over her.

As the movie progressed, Iris found herself losing track of the plot, completely captivated by the feeling of Tara curled against her. She absentmindedly played with a strand of Tara's hair, twirling it around her fingers, each touch sending tingles down her spine.

Tara shifted slightly, her arm slipping around Iris's waist, pulling her in even closer. The intimacy felt electric, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. Iris's heart raced as Tara nestled her face into the crook of Iris's neck, breathing in the familiar scent that always calmed her. She found herself lost in thoughts about how Tara had looked for her date, a vision that lingered vividly in her mind. Suddenly, an urge to express her feelings bubbled up within her, and she felt this need to share what she thought.

"You know, I don't really remember the last time I saw you in a dress," Iris said, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips.

"Yeah, it's not really my thing, but I wanted to try something new," Tara replied, laughter spilling from her lips like music, a sound that resonated deep within Iris. "Did I look ridiculous?"

Iris shook her head, her pulse quickening. "I thought you looked beautiful." The words slipped out, filled with sincerity and warmth.

Tara's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink, and she locked eyes with Iris, her expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Really?" she asked, her voice slightly trembling, as if she could hardly believe it.

"Yeah, stunning," Iris replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tara didn't say anything else but she reached out , intertwining her fingers with Iris's. As they continued watching the movie, their hands remained clasped, the warmth radiating between them a comforting reminder of their bond.

[frvnkcastles]

Maybe frank getting shocked when you call him love in passing and you immediately freak the fuck out and try to take it back since other pet names are easy but love is hard as you're the first one to say it, and you immediately think of your ex giving you shit so you spiral but franks just so sweet and loving and he tells you, not a pet name but he loves you

TRUST I SEEK AND I FIND IN YOU ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You call Frank ’love’ for the first time and fear what his reaction might be.

Warnings: Brief mentions of a toxic ex, mentions of loss (Frank’s family), language, mostly fluff!!

Word count: 1.4k

Author’s note: This one was a really sweet idea!! This was a great opportunity to write about how Frank would probably struggle being in a new relationship after Maria so there’s a smidge of angst but mostly it’s just wholesome. Hope you enjoy! <3 Title from the iconic Nothing Else Matters which will definitely be played at my wedding some day. (And to me, Frank is 100% a Metallica enjoyer.)

When you fell for Frank, you fell hard. How could you not? He was easy on the eyes and he had a charm to him that he wasn’t even entirely aware of. He hardly thought he was anything amazing, but you were in awe of his protective tendencies and his big heart, not to mention the affectionate side that you brought out in him. It was a learning curve of him, considering he hadn’t been in a relationship in a long time and he felt out of practice when it came to many things, but you thought he was a natural. He knew just how to comfort you, he was always holding your hand or had an arm over your shoulders, he made you laugh and he always listened to whatever it was you had to say. So, needless to say, he stole your heart with ease.

But you still held back on him a little. You didn’t want to get too intense or overwhelming, especially when you knew his past and how his marriage had ended without actually ending. He showed you his appreciation in many ways, but you could tell he was careful about it at times, and he didn’t need to say it out loud for you to know that he was struggling to find the balance between missing his wife and being happy in a new relationship with you. You understood, and so, you didn’t push too much. Besides, after dealing with your shitty ex, you couldn’t deny you were particularly cautious about crossing any boundaries.

Your lives had become intertwined and neither of you no longer knew how to go about your day without each other, but there were still some important milestones for you to reach. Saying I love you, for one. You knew you loved Frank and you wanted to say it, but you feared it might have been too much for him to handle. You had decided to let him be the one to say it first, sure that he would appreciate the sentiment — and really, you already knew he loved you. Even if he hadn’t spoken those three words yet, he proved it time and time again with the way he cared for you. He knew everything about you and he remembered even the smallest things, including the ones you forgot you had even shared with him. Therefore, you felt at peace. You would be indescribably happy the day he would tell you he loved you, but until then, you were happy with the way things were.

Of course, a simple slip of the tongue had to ruin that bliss — or so you feared, at least.

You didn’t mean for it to leave your mouth, but it was an instinct. Frank was handing over the plate he had prepared for you, full of your favorite breakfast, just the way you liked it and without even having asked you first. He just liked doing things for you, whether it was surprising you with breakfast or running a bath for you like he had done earlier, leaving you warm and cozy as you sat by the counter in your robe.

”Thank you, love”, you blurted out, both of you immediately freezing as the unspoken word hung in the air. You looked up at Frank who was standing on the other side of the counter with a spatula in hand, and you could see the rush of emotions on his face, ranging from surprise to something you couldn’t decipher. It was obvious you had caught him off-guard, and you struggled to read his reaction, how his nostrils flared and his eyes widened and his lips parted to say something but nothing came out. In that moment, you were convinced you had fucked up, and panic erupted in your chest.

”Fuck, I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— it just slipped out”, you stuttered, your face burning up as you dropped the fork and hung your head in your hands. You were used to calling Frank pet names, and he most definitely loved calling you by multiple of them, as well, but love was one neither of you had dared to touch.

As the silence only deepened in the kitchen, your mind leaped to your ex and how he hadn’t reacted well to your attempts to show love and affection. Now, you were certain the cycle was bound to repeat with Frank, rejection and ridicule on the horizon and all because you had let that stupid, stupid pet name tumble out of your mouth.

”I’m sorry—”, you tried again, but this time, Frank interjected.

”It’s aight”, he spoke, still a little quiet and it made you uneasy. You looked up at him and found him processing, his lips twisting and his eyes softening as he nodded to confirm what he had said. ”Yeah, it’s aight. I liked it”, he added, breaking into the smallest of smiles as he met your gaze. He looked so vulnerable, you just wanted to jump over the counter and pull him into your arms, but you weren’t done spiraling about it.

”Are you sure? I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything”, you questioned with worry, a frown on your face as you observed Frank and whether or not he seemed even a little upset. But despite his initial shock, he was now smiling, touched by your care.

Putting down the spatula, he rounded the corner and snuck to stand between your legs, his hands reaching for your own. ”It’s okay, sweetheart. Got me a lil surprised, I won’t lie, but I don’t mind it. It’s real sweet and you can say it as much as you want to”, he insisted, squeezing your fingers. Still, you couldn’t help but sigh.

”I wanted to let you say it first. Fucked that up, didn’t I?” you lamented, and chuckling softly, Frank wrapped his arms around you and reeled you into his chest. You hugged him back, relieved that he seemed to be taking it well, but you still felt awful for taking away his chance to say the big word before you.

”Oh, sweet girl, I’preciate you thinkin’ of me. But it ain’t just for me to say. And I feel bad you been holdin’ out on me for my sake”, he countered. He was grateful that you had been willing to take things at his pace, but he hadn’t minded your displays of love. He may not have been ready to say it before, but he would have never turned his back on you if you had told him you loved him — and now, he was regretful that he hadn’t assured you of that enough.

”I just don’t want to scare you off. But I guess it was only a pet name, so you can still say the real thing whenever you’re ready”, you thought out loud, trying to see the positive.

Pulling back just enough to tip your head up and lock eyes with you, Frank looked at you with seriousness. ”It ain’t just a pet name. It’s… it’s how you feel ’bout me. And I feel the same way about you”, he began, and just as you were about to reassure him you knew, he continued. ”I love you, sweetheart. I really fuckin’ love you”, he spoke firmly, wanting you to hear it from him. He meant every word, and he had known it for a long time, just never really felt like the right time to say it for the first time.

You looked at him in amazement, completely taken aback by his confession, but it felt so, so good. ”I love you, Frank”, you returned the favor, breaking into a wide smile. He grinned and leaned down to kiss you, his thumb under your chin as his mouth met yours in a soft collision. It was sweet and tender, which always made your heart flutter — for a man so big and scary, he knew how to be gentle with you.

Breathless, he broke the kiss, smiling down at you. Both of you felt the glow of admitting your genuine feelings for one another, and it was a high you couldn’t climb off of. Hearing it just once from Frank was enough to fuel you for days.

”I’m going to be saying it a lot now, just so you know”, you retorted, and laughing, Frank nodded.

”I’m good with that, darlin’”, he promised before kissing you again, deeper this time. You felt the passion in it, knowing that no matter how often he was going to say it out loud, he loved you in the most sincere of ways.

And that was all you needed.

[russellsppttemplates]

Soon enough (Lance Stroll)

There are many different ways to start a family, and Lance and Y/N are hopefully starting their own

Note: english is not my first language. This piece is written from experiences I know (my mother's, specifically), so it is probable that there are some mistakes as I'm not a doctor. Either way, I've tried to treat this as respectfully as possible as this is very close to my heart. Am I really giddy for the follow up parts? Yes, I am!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions endometriosis, fertility issues and treatments and associated topics like blood, medicine, hospitals, needles, etc., male masturbation, pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"It's just going to be negative, Lance", you mumbled, placing the stick on top of the counter and turning to the tap to ways your hands. "Then we'll know what to look for, sweetheart", he attempted, knowing how much the subject weighed on your chest.

When you decided it was time to start thinking about building your family, you and Lance went back to Dr. Marlin like she had asked you. Given your endometriosis, she wanted to accompany you in your fertility journey, checking out all of the possibilities before you moved on to bigger situations.

Lance had been the most supportive partner, always there to cheer you on and to hold you whenever things didn't work out, "Dr. Marlin said that if this didn't work, we are moving on to the big treatments", you looked at him, "and that's what we will do if you want, whenever you feel comfortable", he kissed the side of your head after pulling you close to him, "we're in this together, Y/N".

Grabbing the test when your phone beeped, you didn't even flinch, "negative, like I said", you mumbled, your top lip trembling as you hid your face in your husband's neck. As much as you expected it, it still hurt. Like any other couple wanting to start parenthood, you wanted to remember this period of your life fondly, but you also knew you weren't any other couple. You weren't alone, and since you became more invested in learning about your condition, you found out about all the other couples who had been through the same and their happy families, remembering someone with a very similar history to yours.

"I love you, Y/N, so much. I love you and we're going to have our own family, my love", Lance whispered in your ear, "we're in this together until the end, whatever it takes", he soothed, kissing your skin and hugging you tight against him.

"Do you have any meetings today?", you asked as you pulled away a few moments later, wiping your tears on your sleeve, "I have one at the end of the day, and I'm free for the rest of the week", Lance informed, "I have to get to work for the afternoon only, my morning is free too", you sniffed.

"Then I can call Dr. Marlin to book an appointment and you can go and get ready because we are going on a walk. It's a very quiet one, I doubt we'll run into anyone, okay?", he suggested, smiling when he saw your lips curve upwards slightly, "you're the best. I love you, Lance", you kissed his lips, walking out the bathroom and into the bedroom while he made the phone call.

.

"Do you need a blood sample?", you asked the assistant on the counter, "no, today it's just an ultrasound, and after that you might have to come in for other samples, just depends on how the appointment goes today", she smiled, "Dr. Marlin will call you shortly".

Sitting next to Lance as you waited, you grabbed his hand and started playing with in fingers on top of his thigh, "are you ready to hear that my uterus is a sad sad place for a baby to grow and that not even your guys want to stay in there? We've known eacother for a good while, so I thought we'd befriended, but apparently they're either too snobby or my uterus is a very hostile place", you joked, hoping that it would shake your nerves off, "too much?", you cringed.

"That's not the weirdest thing you've said to me", your husband chuckled, "and I'll listen to anything you say as long as it makes you smile", he cupped your cheek, "besides, who knows? Maybe my guys are also picky, or slow".

Dr. Marlin welcomed you in her office not long after, greeting you and confirming the informations she had, "like we discussed before, it seems that our best approach would be treatments like IVF. For that, of you still want to go for that route, we'll need some samples so we can also rule out any questions from Lance and see where your levels are", she said, getting up, "for today, we'll do the ultrasound as this will also given us more information".

Getting up and laying down on the bed, Lance followed you, standing on your side as you lifted your shirt enough for her to squeeze the gel and move the wand around, "see here? This is your fallopian tube, and it seems the most blocked, while your uterus is actually shedding well enough", she explained, pointing to the different spots on the screen.

"And is that good or bad? I mean, given the circumstances", you questioned, "I can't tell you with absolute certainty, as everyone is different, but this is usually a good sign. It means that it's your eggs that are not travelling to the uterus, and not like you have a low count or that they don't have a good place to settle once fertilised", she smiled, "I'm prescribing you the bloodwork and the samples we need, but after that, if everything checks out, we'll wait for your period and then we'll start couting from there".

.

"It's time for the shot, sweetheart", Lance called, grabbing the supplies he needed as you sat on the sofa. Even though you were fine doing it by yourself, having Lance doing the injections when he was home helped him feel involved in the process. "You can leave that there, then I can just pick it up after you take the needle out", you noted, placing the gauze in your thigh.

Lance tapped the syringe twice to make sure it was at the right level, kneeling down in front of you, "I'm just going to pinch your tummy, is this side, right?", he confirmed, seeing you nod, "are you ready, love?", he checked over before injecting the medicine on your skin, holding the syringe steady for a little bit before pulling it out, discarding it in the medical waste bin Dr. Marlin had given you while you dealt with the burn.

"This one is burning a lot more than I expected", you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut as the stung softened, feeling Lance's lips on your tummy and right by your hand that was pressing the gauze down, "you're very brave, Y/N, I love you".

"I love you too, handsome", you cradled his face, rubbing his stubbly cheek before helping him store the supplies for the next injection time, "we only have four days left", you smiled, looking at the medicine vials.

"Soon enough, Y/N, soon enough", he kissed your forehead, hugging carefully to not press on your tender lower belly, "you're so amazing all I keep doing is just that, but you're taking it all in, it's your body going through the changes", he kissed your softly.

"You're the one dealing with these hormonal changes, I still can't believe I cried when your sister showed up at the table with the pie a little bit more golden that it usually is. It wasn't burnt and it tasted amazing as usual, but the sight of it not done like usual sent me in a fit of cries", you blushed. Chloe was understanding like you expected her to be, but you still couldn't shake her panicked few seconds when she saw your tears, calling her brother immediately so he could hug you and soothe you.

"It's part of the process, love, and I want to be here for as much as I'm able", he said, interrupted by the sound of your phone going off, "it's Dr. Marlin, let me put in on speaker".

The phone call couldn't have gone better, "Y/N, I've reviewed the scans and it looks really good, keep up with the rest of the treatment and next week we'll look into the retrievals", she announced.

.

"This wasn't the way we were supposed to make a baby", you mumbled, "I should be getting naked and we'd be in our bed, and we'd whisper how much we love eachother and then we'd cuddle in said bed, not with me in a procedure room and you in another, in these cold and sterile sheets", you looked up at Lance.

You were back in the clinic so the doctors could collect both samples, and while you've had the years to prepare for this, and with therapy it was something you had worked over, sometimes you were still plagued by these thoughts.

Fortunately, your husband knew just what to say, "it's not the usual way, yes, but it's filled with love nonetheless. You're putting yourself through procedures after your body had been medicated with injections, and that is love. For out little one who we will hopefully hold in our arms when the time comes, love for our family and love for me. You're going to make me a father because of this amount of love you're showing me and that we share, okay?", he smiled soothingly, kissing your forehead, "no more of those worries, okay? Besides, we'll have loads of time for you to touch me and for me to touch you", he winked, helping you turn around so he could help you with the gown's tie.

Kissing your forehead goodbye once the nurses came to take you, Lance was then pulled to a room for himself, "all of the supplies you need are there", she pointed to the sterile table, leaving him alone in the room. Masturbating in a hospital room was not something he ever thought about doing. It wasn't that you weren't there with him, because he certainly had done it many times whenever he travelled for races and you weren't there, so he figured it was the white walls, plain in a room that only had the purpose he was in there for too. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he found the photo album of pictures of you he kept for these occasions. The collection was built along the years you've dated, usually ending up on his phone whenever you both felt particularly daring and in need of the other and you weren't physically able to satisfy it. The picture he used, however, was one he had taken himself. The picture was probably three months old as he had taken in on your anniversary, your naked side profile as you looked sweetly at the camera. You hadn't done anything big to celebrate it, opting instead for staying in and spending your time between the sheets working on your shared dream of a family. And that's exactly what he was doing right now, stroking himself as he recalled the sweet noises you make that he adores so much, the way you feel around him and how your body feels in his hands, soon collecting his finish in the sterile cup.

Making sure it was sealed tight and then washing his hands, Lance fixed himself and walked out of the room, heading up to the desk and handing his sample to the nurse, "there you go", he began, seeing her store it in a cooler like box, "I'm sorry to bother, but do you have any news on my wife?", he wondered, "Y/N's procedure seems to be concluded", the nurse looked at the monitor in front of her, "they're probably just finishing up and she'll be up in her room any minute. Do you want me to walk you there?".

"I think I still remember the way, thank you though", Lance smiled, walking along the corridors until he found the room you had been in. He sat in the comfortable chair, smiling when he saw your colourful fuzzy socks waiting on your bag, remembering reading reports from other women saying that their feet were cold after the retrieval, and since you weren't a big fan of the cold, Lance made sure to pack them for you.

The noise in the corridor caught his attention as the nurse that had wheeled you to the procedure room came back, wheeling you back inside, "she's still a bit sleepy, but the procedure went well. Dr. Marlin said that, at first glance, everything is right on track", she smiled as she noticed Lance's worry fade, "we will be both here in a bit so we can discharge her, but if something happens meanwhile, there's a bell there", she pointed, excusing herself and closing the door behind her.

Turning to face you, Lance kissed your cheek as you fluttered your lashes, "hey, sleepy girl", he cooed, prompting you to fully open your eyes, "I heard you did really well in there", he admitted proudly.

"Yes, they said something about a good number of eggs, I think I might've compared myself to a chicken, so you know, good things", you giggled, looking for his hand to hold, "thank you, for all this", you kissed his knuckles, "no need to thank me, we're in this together, sweetheart".

After explaining you the signs you should look out for, the medical team discharged you and off home you went with Lance.

.

Since you got the call to book the embryo transfer day, you and Lance had been cautiously hopeful with the results, "Lance, Y/N, I'm happy to say that we have 10 embryos to work with. They have developed healthily and without any complications", Dr. Marlin cheered.

"Let's go get a baby put inside of me, hm?", you stepped out of the car, holding Lance's hand as you walked to the door. Checking in was quick and you were almost immediately welcomed into the procedure room, sitting in the bed and covering yourself as requested.

"I imagine I'm looking very sexy", you joked in a way to deal with the nerves, "you always look the sexiest to me", your husband kissed the side of your head, resting his forehead in yours, "we're finally here, my love, you've got this, we've got this", he whispered, almost terrified that of he spoke any louder he would disturb the mood.

You heard a knock on the door, Dr. Marlin and her colleague walking in wheeling a small cart, "we have your embryos here", she pointed to the environment where they had been developing. As they rearranged the room, they pushed a highchair by your side, telling Lance he could sit in there while they worked, "so, Y/N, you shouldn't feel too much pain, rather some pressure as we make the transfer", she said as she maneuvered the small catheter, her colleagues guiding the ultrasound as you looked at Lance, finding the usual calm in his brown eyes.

"That was very well placed, actually the perfect spot", Dr. Marlin said, smiling behind her mask as he removed the devices and covered you up. "It's done", she empathised, rubbing your shoulder and hugging you, "now you're just going to stay here for 10, 15 minutes or so, to make sure everything settles", she excused herself, leaving you and Lance in the room.

"We made a baby and they're inside of you", Lance choked out. Throughout this process, he had always been the strong one, the one to hold you whenever you didn't want to do the injection because it hurt too much, whenever you felt like crap from the meds and whenever you lost hope, but today he cried for the first time, bringing tears to your own, "I'm so happy, I promise these are happy tears", he chuckled, "I always say that I'm the luckiest guy because you love me, at my best and t my worst, and today you proved it to me once again. I really am the luckiest", he kissed your lips, salty tears in the mix while you waited.

"We'll see you in two weeks for the test, okay?", your OB waved goodbye after giving you two big hugs, "thank you, once more", you spoke, forever grateful for the way she led you through this whole journey.

Driving home was quiet and comfortable, your seat adjusted so you didn't have as much pressure on your abdominal area, "They really should get this holes sorted, they've been here for a while now and they're only getting worse", Lance mumbled, "I'm sorry, sweetheart", he apoligised as he slowed down the car as much as it was safe to, "it's fine, it doesn't hurt or anything", you justified, not seeing the need to be so careful.

Blushing, your husband passed all the holes, the concrete now smooth as he drove faster again, "can't give any more shakes to the little bun, you know? Making sure they stay glued to the wall and all", he said sweetly, hopefully bringing lightness to the situation as you pouted at his cuteness.

"I love you, Lance. There's no one else I'd want to do this with", you stretched your hand, landing on his thigh as his own hand travelled to your tummy, rubbing it softly and hoping that your family was growing inside of you.

[mickandmusings]

i. equal parts

pairing: poe dameron x solo!fem!reader

part of my upcoming 'princess, smuggler, pilot' series!

word count: 7.3k

summary: bre solo, daughter of han solo and general leia organa, decides to swap her life of smuggling with her father to aid her mother and the resistance. when she lands on base, she meets up with an old friend, who helps her acclimate to life on land.

warnings: i gave the solo reader a name (sorry,) angsty moments, fluffy moments, typical canon star wars violence, chewie being the best star wars character, this author loves the star wars christmas special from the 70s, in the timeline we're gonna pretend the reader is younger or the same age as Poe

based off a request!

-

Bre Solo relished in the pressure of true shower's water against her skin. In her far too quickly approaching future, sonic showers would be her only option, so she relished in the water shower of her father's ship. The smell of her Nabooian floral soap filled the air, encouraging her to take a deep breath of the warm steam. In only a matter of hours, her father would drop her down on her mother's military base, and everything about her beloved life on this ship would be a mere memory. Tears sprang in her eyes, and she swallowed them down hastily. She wanted this, right? Her mother needed her, needed more help in the fight against evil, again.

Her chest ached as she thought about all that would be taken from her: no more days laughing next to Dad as they repaired something on nearly every inch of the ship, no more sitting on the galley counter as Uncle Chewie cooked her favorite soup from Kashyyyk, and, perhaps her most favorite, no more seeing a new stretch of galaxy every day. In an act that was far too reminiscent of her mother, Bre swallowed down her emotions and hurried as she washed her long hair. As she stepped out of the shower and dried her hair, she tied her hair into a simple leisure braid. Sure, Bre and her mother had a massive falling out, but she could not part with the infinite number of Alderaanian braids she had learned. Securing the towel around her frame, she stepped into her cabin and picked out her warmest pajamas.

Glaring down at them, she found her fingers lingering on the embroidery decorating the shirt pocket. As she dressed, she thought about when she had gotten them. The pajama set had been a Life Day gift from her mother several moons ago, and her heart ached as she thought about the matching set being somewhere out in the galaxy. A midnight blue set had been purchased the same day as her maroon, both inscribed with the same initials: B. P. S. She thought of her brother-her twin brother-who shared the same initials. Bre had no idea where he was in the wide galaxy, but she thought of him everyday. Pushing all of her thoughts down, Bre made her way back to the cockpit where her father and uncle sat.

Without a word, because none were necessary, she sat snugly in the same copilot seat as her Wookiee uncle, his lanky arm pulling her closer. As her head rested on his upper arm, those pesky tears behind her eyes festered forward. This would be possibly the last time she would be able to relish in Chewie's warmth for some time. She could no longer hide her sadness, burying her face in Chewie's fur as she shook with silent sobs. Chewie's voice was laced with concern. Chewie had been around since before she was born, so understanding his language of growls came as second nature.

["Starlight? What is the matter?"]

Chewie's love and sincere sympathy had never wavered, no matter what happened in her family. Even when her brother betrayed the family, or when her parents split. Her Uncle Chewie had been her constant, and now, she would no longer have him. Bre didn't say a word, only continuing to sob into his fur. It was several moments later when her father's voice broke the silence.

"You give me the word, kid, and this craft is on the turnaround."

Han Solo had always been sympathetic towards his daughter (they were too much alike if you asked Leia Organa,) but even more so in his older age.

"You know I can't Dad, as much as I'd like to. Mom needs me, and no matter what you say, she needs you too. She could use you and Uncle Chewie for help with-"

"Okay, B, now you're startin' to sound like 'er." Han chuckled under his breath, the comment making Bre and Chewie laugh.

"I just don't want to leave either of you. I know it's important I help Mom, but I wish both of you would be there."

["What matters most is that you're here now."]

Chewie's reply was heartfelt and wise, but it simply wasn't what Bre wanted to hear. She leaned her head back against his strong shoulder, and it wasn't long before her father's hand grasped hers, holding it close in an act of comfort. Bre knew what she had to do, what she had to give up to aid the Resistance, but she wasn't sure it was what she wanted to do.

-

On the Resistance base on D'Qar, Poe Dameron hopped out of his currently smoking X-Wing. General Organa would soon be hot on his heels rambling about his broken ship, and he'd have to pull out his toolbox and work on the damage. His dark brown eyes cut across the hangar bay, the salt-and-pepper locks of the aforementioned General stuck out next to a dark-haired girl that stood next to her, hardly an inch taller than the short woman. Poe noted the taller figures looming over them both, General Han Solo (a name he had heard more times in his life from his father) and his copilot, a towering Wookiee named Chewbacca. Poe's eyes widened in realization: the dark-haired figure wasn't just any new recruit: that was Breha Solo, the daughter of some of the Rebellion's most famous figureheads. She shifted uncomfortably between her two parents, who seemed to be attempting to further the distance between themselves. She visibly sighed, cutting her eyes to her Wookiee uncle, who gave her a seemingly (Poe didn't speak Shyriiwook) reassuring growl. She smiled brightly, leaning into his embrace before following him back into the ship behind them. Poe was awestruck, it had been years since he last saw her.

Then, they were just children. Poe could remember her vividly, despite the passing of time. She had worn a dress, completely white save for the swirling pattern embroidered on the front that spanned to each shoulder. Her hair had been long, but not nearly as long as it was now. Well, Poe wasn't actually sure, he had never seen her with her hair entirely down. He only observed through tightly-wound braids and intricate twists. Her parents had visited Yavin IV to meet his parents, and, like children often do, they became close friends in mere hours. They had played with his toy X-Wings and Y-Wings and her stuffed Wookiee, and eventually fell asleep to an Ewok themed children's holoprogram. That was so long ago, before they grew up, before his mother died, before-Poe stopped his train of thoughts, not wishing for a painful resurgence of memories. With a nudge to his ankles, BB-8 captured his attention, momentarily distracting him from his own mind.

"What is it, BB?"

A series of beeps followed, but to Poe, it was if BB-8 had spoken perfect Basic.

["General Organa is asking for you. She says its important."]

Poe nodded, and thanked his droid counterpart before walking in the direction of the family reunion that had gathered on the edges of the hangar. Leia's brown eyes caught his own, and she smiled a perfect senatorial smile at him. Poe had been a member of Leia's cause long enough now to know what each of her smiles meant. Now, she was deathly serious, and waiting (almost) patiently for Poe to arrive at their meeting spot. He beckoned his weighed-down legs to move faster, the BB unit at his feet rolling along merrily.

"Commander Dameron," Leia started, a glimmer of mischief in her eye.

"General," he responded, followed by a small nod of his head to his superior.

"Captain," he followed, addressing Han. Neither of them had time to respond, however, because a clanking noise came from inside the ship. Leia's eyebrow cocked up at Han, who shook his head wearily as he trudged up the ramp. A hearty Wookiee laugh followed a distinctly human one, making even the stoic General Organa break out into a grin. In an instant, Bre was back, now stumbling down the ramp with a duffel bag on one shoulder, her hands carrying a container that seemed to hold some type of food Poe did not recognize. Her green eyes were glassy as they found Poe's brown ones. She gave him a smile, one he recognized well, it was the same as Leia's own fake smiles. She placed the items down on the firm ground of the hangar before sighing heavily, turning to meet the two figures behind her. Poe swore he saw tears on her face, but when he looked again, they seemingly had disappeared. Chewbacca wrapped her tightly in his arms, his furry hands patting her head softly. With one last embrace, he mumbled something only Breha seemingly understood before she was stumbling from his grip and into the embrace of her father. Leia now stood facing Poe, allowing her daughter a moment with Han. Poe caught a glimpse of her head resting on her father's shoulder before he too turned to give them privacy.

"Poe, my daughter, Breha, will be staying with us. She will be working for the Resistance under special orders. She's to be bunked near my quarters. I trust you can take her to the bunker, show her around the base."

"Of course, General. Any specifics?"

"Show her everything." Leia's grin finally met her eyes, the gleam in them prominent. She then turned to her daughter, who was now waiting with her father's arm around her shoulder. With one last hug, she bids him farewell with a heavy heart, before turning to face Poe. Now this close, Poe did a double take. His eyes blinked heavily as he looked at the girl again. She was a nearly spitting image of her mother, save for the one part of her father she could not deny: his eyes. They were glimmering with the same charm of the Corellian pilot, and were much, much lighter than her mother's-both literally and figuratively. The green of Breha's eyes lightened her entire face, while Leia's brown seemed heavy and weighed down by what she had been through. Perhaps, Poe thought, Breha didn't have half the weight on her shoulders as everyone else running around the Resistance base.

"Breha, this is Commander Poe Dameron. Commander, this is my daughter, Breha."

Poe nodded silently to the girl in front of him, which she returned with a smirk much more notable to be on her father's face. She turned to give her father one last wave as he started his ship's engine, and Chewbacca gave her a large, hairy wave of his hand. With a smirk and a wink, Han Solo was back in the stars, taking a piece of Breha's heart with him. She shook her head and winced, taking her food container off the solid floor. Poe followed suit and grabbed her duffel bag.

"You don't have to, I can take it myself, Commander. It's-"

"It's fine, really. The General wanted me to show you to your quarters, show you around the base. It's just Poe by the way, you don't have to call me by my rank, Breha."

"It's Bre."

"What?"

"My name. Call me Bre, no one calls me Breha except my mother."

"Okay, Bre. Nice to meet you."

The dark-haired girl chuckled.

"Something funny?" Poe asked, genuinely curious.

"Did you think I had forgotten you so easily, Poe Dameron? This is hardly our first meeting."

It was Poe's turn to laugh, shaking his head at the quick-witted girl.

"The last time I saw you, I was wearing X-Wing printed pajamas, and you carried a stuffed Wookiee everywhere you went. I'd say we've both changed a bit, Bre."

Poe looked over to see that Breha's face had reddened, her eyes darting to the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. A smile suddenly broke across her face, and it lit up her entire face.

"That Wookiee doll was made by my Aunt Malla, Chewie's mate. It was my favorite thing as a kid. She made him all kinds of accessories and outfits. He had a mini satchel like Chewie's and a lovely set of red Life Day robes."

Poe smiled as she reminisced. During their walk to her quarters, Poe felt as if no time had passed between the pair. Bre was not as high-strung as her mother, as Poe once believed she might be. Bre had a sort of air about her-light-hearted, funny, and easy to have a conversation with. Despite her looks, it was clear to Poe that Bre held her father's personality inside her mother's looks. She would do nicely here. Sure, the Rogues would take some time to come around to her, but they would enjoy her humor. A distant whirring filled Poe's ears, causing he and Bre both to turn their eyes to the end of the hallway. Flashes of orange and white greeted them, a frustrated beep filling the air.

"BB, buddy, I wasn't leaving you! I was showing Bre here to her room, helping her drop her stuff off.

BB-8 buzzed back in annoyance, something only Poe could understand.

"Okay, fine! Bre, this is BB-8. BB, this is Bre Organ-"

"Bre Solo, and it's lovely to meet you, BB," Bre smiled widely, a true, honest smile, perhaps the first one Poe had seen from her yet. She dropped down to BB-8's height, rubbing his head affectionately. BB whirred around in excitement, relishing in the idea of a new friend. Poe laughed as they continued down the hall.

"He was upset that I hadn't introduced him to you yet," Poe started, pushing the strap of the (ridiculously heavy) duffel bag up his shoulder. "He seems to like you. Do you speak droid?"

"No," Bre spoke, shaking her head. "We grew up with a droid, C-3PO. Of course you know 3PO. He speaks Basic though, so there was no need for us to learn. He speaks lots of languages, actually, like, Dad use to curse in Corellian, so Be-uh, I would always try to get 3PO to tell me what they meant."

Poe pondered on her broken sentence, but decided it would be better to ignore it. This was the first time he'd seen her in years after all, there was no limit to what could have happened in her family, maybe she didn't want to talk about it. Hell, Poe certainly didn't want to talk about all of the things that had changed in his own life. On a whim, he quickly changed the subject.

"You understand Shyriiwook though, right?"

Her eyes lit up, nodding enthusiastically.

"Yes!" She wrung her hands almost nervously, fiddling with the flat, silver ring on her right pointer finger. Poe looked at it quizzingly, attempting to get a good look at the emblem etched into it, but could never quite get it in his sights. "I grew up around Chewie my entire life, he's always sort of been there. He lived with us when he wasn't on Kashyyyk, and I've spent the last few years flying around with Dad and Chewie. You pick it up pretty quick."

She smiled humbly, and Poe could almost feel the heartbreak in her voice as she talked about her distant family. Poe rattled his brain from some other subject, but luckily, the action was unnecessary. A pristine voice echoed down the hallway, followed by a clamoring of metal against the floor.

"Princess Breha! Oh, how wonderful it is to see you again!"

Bre's smile widened at the golden droid, her eyes shimmering even in the dim light of the hallway.

"3PO! It's so good to see you, too! And as I've told you before, there is no need for formalities, call me Bre." Her eyes widened, delicate hands reaching for his red arm. "Your arm!"

Poe's eyes rolled, and he blocked out 3PO's incessant chattering at Bre looked at the droid with the utmost concern. Poe pushed the bag back up his shoulder again, the clattering of glass taking him by surprise. Even BB looked up at him questioningly, wondering what the source of the noise was. After a moment, the golden droid was on his way, muttering something about General Organa. They set off on their course again, only the sound of BB's whirring filling the room. Their walk was lengthy, and Poe's stomach began to rumble noisily. His mind raced, when was the last time he'd eaten since he left for his mission? It'd been too long, he decided, because he could not remember.

"Would you like some?" Bre held out her food container to Poe, who gave it a look-over. Apparently, Bre had heard his stomach too.

"What are they?"

"Wookiee-ookiees."

Poe furrowed his brows, not familiar with what she was talking about.

"They're these baked treats native to Kashyyyk. Malla typically makes them, but Chewie's not a half bad cook either. Otherwise Dad would've never survived all these years. They're very good."

Frankly, Poe was so hungry he would've eaten Bantha cookies for all he cared. He indulged in the sweet treat offered, taking a big bite. His eyes widened, chewing quickly.

"That was amazing," he said after he'd finished, brown eyes full of newfound joy. The food in the mess hall was less than subpar, more for sustenance than enjoyment.

"Would you like another?" Bre asked, polite as a princess should be.

"Absolutely I would," Poe indulged, happy to see the same enjoyment glittering in her eyes. Bre loved sharing little bits of Kashyyyk, for it was her favorite part of all the galaxy she had seen. She pictured it in her mind: its towering green trees that expanded for miles, Malla and Chewie's home within them. She thought of Life Day celebrations: Chewie's big hugs, her mother's singing voice, and her father bringing she and Ben to their beds next to Lumpie. She shut the thoughts down again, her heart hurting just thinking about it.

"Ah!" Poe stopped in front of a door. "Welcome to your home away from home."

The bunk wasn't shabby, just standard: Resistance-issued cot, storage unit, and, perhaps the most important, the adjoined refresher. The feeling of her hot shower from last night ran through her senses, and she relished in it one last time. Poe dropped her heavy duffel on the cot with a sigh.

"Well, this is your room. General Organa's quarters and office are all the way at the end of the hall, along with the other higher-ups. She wanted me to take you on a tour of the whole base, but if you wanted to get settled or-"

"I'll take you up on that, just let me get this bag settled. Close the door, though."

Poe closed the door hesitantly, turning back to Bre. She stopped halfway through unzipping her bag, her eyes cutting up to Poe.

"I know you're my mother's right-hand and her golden pilot, but could you just be Poe for a second? Promise that what you see doesn't leave this room?"

Poe nodded blindly, too curious as to what she was going to do to even object. Bre shook her head before rummaging in the bag, mumbling slightly.

"Dad would kill me if he knew about this."

She pulled out a very large (very, very large) bottle of amber liquid, Poe recognizing it as Corellian whiskey immediately. His eyes widened, following as she slid it under her small storage compartment. Just after, she pulled an equally large bottle of blue Spotchka from the bag, shuffling it in the same spot.

"Holy shit, Solo! Yeah, my dad would be pissed too if I stole that much alcohol from him!" Poe's eyes were large as saucers, giving him the same look as a Porg. Bre's dark eyebrows furrowed. She cut her eyes to Poe, that famous Solo smirk painting her face.

"My dad gave me this, Dameron. He wanted me to have it. He certainly wouldn't be pissed about the alcohol. He'd be mad at me for doing it in front of the General's pride and joy. He taught me to be a better smuggler than that, especially with high demand contraband."

She closed her bag and stood, ready for Poe's obligatory tour. When he thought of everything the daughter of General Organa would be, it certainly wasn't Bre. She was named for two legacies of respected and elegant royalty on both Alderaan and Naboo, prime examples of the expectation of royalty. As she shut her cabin door, Poe took note of her hands, scarred but smooth. He had the same scars, they came from working on ships. He finally got a good glance at the flat ring on her hand, now noting the distinct outline of a 'B', seemingly for name. It was shiny and without scratches, in pristine condition. On the same hand was a band made of glittering gold, a single red rock on the band. Poe noted the color-it was a Corellian ruby. These rocks were hard to come by, and even harder to find the funds to afford it. Having a Corellian smuggler as a father probably helped in that situation, Poe supposed. Looking at Bre now, he noted, just like the rings on her fingers, Bre was equal parts princess and smuggler. (Maybe more three fourths smuggler, but Poe was feeling generous.) Her traditional braids across her head contradicted the oil stains on her pants, but, when he looked at her face he saw it clearly: just like her parents, she held every emotion in her eyes. Whether they were brown like Leia's or green like Han's, they could talk a good talk, but their eyes gave away everything. Poe noticed the pain in her Endor-forest green eyes, completely contradicting her bright smile.

Poe wasn't entirely sure why Bre was here after all these years of an obviously strained relationship but he was certain she wanted to be somewhere far, far from D'Qar, her mother, and nearly anywhere like this base: there was no where for her to run from herself in such tight quarters. The realization made Poe shudder, the same feeling coursed through him.

-

[endless-ineffabilities]

Maroon (part two)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy to leave

a/n: just a little explanation on their ages, since they are aged up for this series. Jace, the reader, Helaena and Aemond are in their mid-twenties. Alys is in her mid-thirties. Luke is around 21/22. Feel free to adjust if you wish.

Also, the photo I used is of Tom Bennett, as I felt the need to use a modernized look for Aemond, but nevertheless, he is still Aemond - silver haired, sullen, and soon enough, sapphire-eyed. If my photo editing skills are up to par, then I would have edited shoulder-length (yup, for this story) silver hair and modern clothes on our Aemond, but alas...

happy reading, beautiful people. 🖤

themes/warnings: fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, slight love triangle, language, accident/severe injury (towards the end)

word count: 7.3k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The morning after their interrupted kiss, the reader learns more about Aemond's apparent lover. She grows discouraged with striking up a romance with him, but he is determined to change her mind.

There is a curious knot in your stomach when you wake, remembering the night before. Aemond had leaned in close, so close, that you feel as if his scent still surrounds you.

The deep green walls of his bedroom are still burned into your eyes. From then on, there is no way that this particular shade of green won’t bring you back to that night. With him.

With Aemond. The one who has flooded your thoughts for almost a year now. The object of your desire.

Although, it seems… that he might already have his own object of desire.

Why did Alys visit him so late last night? You want to feign innocence, and remain oblivious to any and all lewd possibilities. Maybe she’s just a dear friend, who needed some company. Perhaps to have a drink, or to borrow a book? Or perhaps she has had some romantic trouble earlier last evening, and needed to vent her heart out to Aemond, who is nothing if not an attentive listener.

Well, shit. You slam your palm to your forehead as you allow reality to set in. You can continue to hope, but deep down, you know that Alys is not just a friend to Aemond.

This might be one of the very few instances wherein tabloid fodder has some truth to it. Dragonstone heir and model socialite spotted leaving Claridge’s Hotel in London after a wild night out.

That was just one of the several headlines that caught your eye, and immediately chose to ignore. You don’t even remember how long ago that was, but it seems as if their story is yet to reach its end.

If, indeed, it ever will.

But why was he going to kiss me? I mean, he was, wasn’t he?

You turn to the side, and notice that you’re all alone in bed. Helaena always wakes up much earlier, preferring to be awake as the sun rises, which leaves her ample time to go about her extensive morning routine.

Before you allow your rampant thoughts to get the better of you, you finally get up, wiping sleep from your eyes, and stumble to her bathroom. As you study your reflection is the mirror, one thing springs to your mind. What is going to happen if you meet Aemond downstairs? Granted, it is rare for the whole family to convene early during weekdays, but he did say he will meet you in the morning.

You take your sweet time getting ready, delaying the inevitable, before finally heading downstairs.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The clock above an alcove in the kitchen reads 8:17. The smell of pancakes waft through the air, calming your senses. Breakfast food is always a good idea.

Helaena comes into view, stacking the last pancakes on a plate.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Nice face.” She jokes, smiling in her carefree way.

“What about it?” You scrunch your nose in response, picking off a blueberry from a glass bowl on the kitchen counter.

“Rough night?” She turns off the induction stove, having finished, and you help her carry the dishes to the dining table.

Talia, their housekeeper, walks in the kitchen. A worried look is etched on her face. “Ma’am, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you? I can cook you something else, or fetch something from the store? Your mother says - ”

“Everything’s fine, Talia.” Helaena assures her. She has never really indulged having a maid to clean up after her. One thing about Helaena, she’s very likely the most simple one out of the family, not bothering with the usual trappings of luxury, and that includes having a maid at her every beck and call. Helaena only asks for help when she needs it, and as it stands, she’s perfectly capable of cooking up a damn good breakfast. “Why don’t you attend to yourself this morning?”

“A-attend to myself, ma’am?” Talia asks.

“Yes,” Helaena shoots a smile at you conspiratorially, “Talia, go out and take a walk, or watch a movie, or get a massage. Whatever you want, it’s on us. The rest of the family are either busy working, hungover somewhere, or out of town, anyway. We’ll be fine for today.”

Talia smiles brightly in appreciation. “Very well then. Thank you, ma’am. Please do call me if you need anything at all.”

Helaena nods her head once. Talia makes a move to leave, but she seems to recall something.

“Oh, uh, Miss Y/n?” She addresses you this time. “Sir Aemond did say that he’s very sorry that he isn’t able to see you this morning. He left very early, quite in a rush. There must have been something very pressing at work.”

“Oh.” You could not hide the disappointment in your voice. Or was it relief? “Aemond’s not here?”

“He did say he would call you, though, as soon as he can.”

Aemond isn’t here. “Right. Well, thanks for letting me know, Talia.”You smile at her genuinely, while feeling slightly empty inside from the notion of Aemond’s absence. There was no reason to be excited or nervous, after all. A shame, really. “And please, call me Y/n.”

“Of course, Y/n. And, it’s not a problem. Sir Aemond did seem quite distressed about having to leave. I’m sure he’d be annoyed with me if I don’t let you know.”

“Oh, that’s for sure.” Helaena rolls her eyes, smiling at you. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say that my brother’s kinda infatuated with you.”

Before a warmth can develop in your chest from what Helaena claims, another person walks in the kitchen. A long-legged, impossibly unblemished figure that is Alys Rivers.

Talia straightens, not as comfortable around Alys as she is with you and Helaena. She takes that as her cue to leave. She politely addresses each of you in turn. “Have a lovely morning, Ma’am. Y/n. Miss Alys.” Her tone bristles at the last name.

“Sooo,” Alys saunters over to the table, and daintily plops down on the seat opposite you and Helaena, “good morning, girls. You don’t mind if I join you for breakfast, do you?” She pops a piece of fruit in her mouth before you could respond.

“Not at all, Alys.” Helaena sighs. “It would be nice to finally speak to my brother’s…” She trails off, one eyebrow raising slyly. “…friend.”

Alys simply laughs it off, unfazed. “That’s nice of you, Helaena, but you don’t need to watch your words around me. I know that Aemond has never clearly stated what we are yet. But we are something, that much I’m sure of.” Her gaze trails over to you. “Nice sweater. You know, it looks a lot like my Aemond’s.”

My Aemond’s. God help me. “Oh, uhm,” you balk, not wanting to overstep the line with something that is completely none of your business, as far as you’re concerned, “he lent it to me last night. Clumsy ol’ me apparently can’t handle too much red wine. Literally and figuratively.”

You smile at Alys placatingly, but you’re not sure what for. Nothing happened last night, right? Nothing at all.

“Well, it looks good on you, darling.” She winks at you. The more she speaks, the more you realize how self-assured she is. Your first meeting, you’re wearing her… boyfriend’s…. sweater, and she’s only quick to accept your explanation. It’s as if she’s truly certain that no one can steal Aemond away from her.

“Thank you.” You awkwardly say, taking a sip of your coffee.

“So, Alys,” Helaena says, “tell us more about yourself. Surely we cannot just believe everything the gossip blogs say about you.”

“Right, well. I’m aware that I do have a certain image, but that’s all it is. An image. A kind of persona. It makes it easier to draw a line between my job and my personal life. I do enjoy the luxurious and fast-paced lifestyle that modelling brings, but that’s not everything. I am… more than that.”

Her statements catch you by surprise, slightly. You knew more than just to take her reputation at face value, but it’s different now. Aemond’s attraction to her might run deeper than you had hoped.

“I think it’s right that you do whatever you feel is best for you.” You find yourself genuinely saying, empathizing with how she feels. “I can’t claim to know exactly what it’s like, being in the public eye like that, but it must be hard. You should protect yourself, and if keeping up a kind of mask is something that works, then…” You purse your lips, and tilt your head, a show of your approval.

“Solidarity, sister.” Alys smiles at you, one which you return. “I mean, thanks for not judging me right away. Most people do.”

The rest of the morning is spent in a way you never would have expected to enjoy, but you do. Alys turns out to be more friendly than she seems, and it’s plain to see that she truly cares for Aemond. She did share her insecurities when it comes to him, and how he has set implicit boundaries between them.

Whenever she gets too close, he’s only quick to pull away. Aemond has predictably not made it clear what they are, and has never protested when Alys goes on dates with other people. Although she wishes that he would.

Each time Alys hints at how Aemond means to her makes you feel guilty. You know you want him, but she has been in the picture much longer than you. Do you even have a chance? Do you want one?

Eventually, Alys receives a call, which she explains is from her disgruntled manager, telling her that the call time for her photoshoot is nearing. She excuses herself, sashaying confidently out of the apartment. You can’t help but feel small, and the fact that you find her a tad intimidating is the least of your worries.

Aemond seems farther away from you, if he ever was close. Helaena notices your lowered spirits, and she spends the rest of the morning helping you get your mind off things.

But no movie, series, or copious amount of baked goods proves effective.

Despite your best efforts, Aemond Targaryen has taken refuge in your mind. And perhaps, your heart. But you would never admit that too soon.

Especially not now.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The weekend is a welcome respite from your busy university schedule. Although you have to work a full shift at a local bookstore, you wouldn’t complain about it. It’s a calm and decent enough part-time job, and while it doesn’t pay much, you’re more than happy to be surrounded by books all day.

You rush into the bookstore, already half an hour late. Your bus was delayed for too long, and you did not even get to pick up your usual coffee on the way.

“Mel?” You call out to the owner. She’s always the first to come in, and open up shop. You rub your boots on the welcome mat, and make your way around the tall bookshelves. You spot her at the counter, arranging yesterday’s receipts into a folder.

“Good morning.” She greets you with her usual warm smile. “Don’t even worry about it, y/n.” She reassures you in time, already knowing you would apologize profusely for being late.

You breathe a sigh of relief, dropping your bag behind the counter. “I’ll just stay a bit later after closing. Help clean up everything.”

“No need.” She places a hand on your shoulder, and whispers close. “By the way, you have a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

“A handsome one, might I add. He’s sitting in the corner desk by the Classics section. I found him waiting outside so early. Poor kid said he wanted to be here as soon as the shop opened, and I don’t know about you, but I hardly believe it is because of his raging love for literature.”

“Oh, I see.” You stand dumbfounded, a new sense of nervousness settling over you. That handsome visitor can only be Aemond, can it?

“Go on, honey. Take your time. It’s not like the shop gets particularly busy this early.”

You slowly walk deeper into the shop, past the new releases, the sci-fi section, and then the romance.

And sure enough, there he sits.

His shoulder-length silver hair is in its usual half-up style, and his expensive black coat is draped on the back of his seat. His left hand holds a book on the table, while the other props up his face, his index finger absentmindedly running over his lips, deep in thought.

Your footsteps carry no sound, so he does not notice as you walk closer. You almost don’t want to bother him, as he looks so serene. Faint sunlight from an awning window warms the scene, casting a glow over him. Beautiful.

You find yourself leaning against a bookshelf, studying him, flashes of that night running through your head. He did leave you a message, explaining why he had to leave the morning after. You were not sure what to respond with, apart from “No problem. See you soon.”

Impersonal. Direct. Safe. Getting to know his lover that morning was a sort of wake-up call. You aren’t sure whether you’re ready to dive in deeper into the enigma that he poses. So you decided to leave it at that.

But it clearly was not enough for him, as evidenced by numerous subsequent missed calls.

His head turns, languidly, finally sensing your presence. When your eyes meet, a soft smile forms on his lips.

“Hello, darling.”

Shit. Two simple words and you’re all but ready to let go of any uncertainty you might have about him, then and there.

“Aemond,” you can’t help but smile in return, “to what do I owe this visit?”

He closes his book and sets it down on the table. He turns his body towards you, still seated, leaning back to take you in.

“Would you believe me if I said that I missed you?” He says smoothly, so sure of himself. He stresses, “I miss you.”

“It’s only been days since I last saw you, Aemond.” You roll your eyes in a poor attempt to hide the way you grow flustered.

“Feels like forever.” He stands, walking over to the bookshelf you’re leaning on, making a show of perusing the titles. “You have not answered my calls, darling. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you’re ignoring me.” He steps closer to you, mirroring your position.

“I was busy.” You respond quickly with a defensive tone. And you were, but not busy enough to avoid staring at your phone every time his name blinks on the screen, waiting for his call to drop.

“Hmm. I was hoping we could have a moment alone. To… talk,” His eyes rake your face, landing on your lips, “or perhaps, more?”

“More? Getting ahead of yourself, Aemond?” You look down, unable to meet his heated gaze.

“I really enjoyed our night together, and I was hoping we could have some more time to ourselves.”

“I’m sure we will. The next time Hel invites me over, or you guys throw a party…” You trail off, raising your head to look at him again, and sure enough, he continues to watch every change in your expression.

“How about now? Could I steal you away for an hour or two? I’m sure Melanie wouldn’t mind.”

“Already on first-name basis with my boss. Fast work, Aemond.”

“She’s a sweet woman. Nurturing. I’m glad you have someone like her as your supervisor.” His lips quirk in amusement.

“Really…” you raise your eyebrows.

“Mhmm. If she was unfair or unpleasant to you in any way, I would not hesitate to have someone better appointed in her stead.” He explains smugly.

“It’s an independent bookstore, Aemond, and not one of the hundred businesses your great empire owns. You wouldn’t have the jurisdiction.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” He lowers his face nearer to yours, his breath fanning your face. He continues, “I don’t believe you understand how much I would be willing to do for you.”

His proximity makes you short of breath, so you take a step back, wanting to clear your head. A frown materializes on his face, but it disappears just as quick as it arrived. He is determined to make himself heard.

“I have known you for a good part of a year now, y/n. And… my admiration for you has only blossomed as time passed. When we had a moment to ourselves that night, it just felt… right.”

“Aemond… ”

“I’m inclined to assume that you feel the same way. At least, I hope.”

Your throat feels dry all of a sudden, and you struggle to match his unabashed sincerity. “I’m not sure where this will lead. What you expect this to be. You already have… someone… ”

“Someone?” Props to him for seeming genuinely clueless as to who you’re referring to.

“I met her the morning after. Alys. She’s actually quite lovely.”

“It’s not what you think.” He finally looks away, his mood changed with the mention of Alys.

You sigh flatly, "That is exactly what someone involved would say. Look, I have no interest in ruining anyone's relationship - "

"I am not in a relationship - "

"But there is something between you and Alys, isn't there?"

"We aren't together. I have made this clear to her, time and again." He paces at the aisle, running his hand over the books. "Though I admit, in the times when I need... company... she's the one I have become accustomed to calling."

"Company." You almost roll your eyes at his casual implication.

"Hmm." His lips curl in distaste. "It does not come easy for me to connect with anyone. Even for a purpose as unseemly as that."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know, I just... hope that you don't think any less of me."

"Aemond," you take a step forward, "you're free to want... company with whomever you want. So is Alys. But I can't get into this, whatever this is, with you if I will have to share you with anyone else."

"You won't. That already is far from the truth, darling. I have not even considered anyone else for a while now."

"But Alys - "

"I did not invite her over that night. I hadn't even seen her in weeks. Nothing happened after you left my bedroom."

"She cares about you. A lot."

"I know," he shakes his head slightly, "and I care about her, too. But it never became..." He bows his head, almost sheepishly. "... it's not... I don't love her."

Your gaze softens as you watch the torment in his expression. It becomes clear that Aemond does not throw around the word love without care. He sounds cautious. Nervous, almost.

His eyes find yours suddenly, the intensity behind them catching you by surprise.

"But you..." His brows furrow in frustration. He takes a deep breath, before repeating, almost accusingly, "You."

Suddenly, he pulls you close by the waist. His violet eyes keep you in place, holding you dear.

You take each other in with hungry eyes. His every little movement, every twitch, catches your attention. The way his lips purse, the way he swallows nervously. A stray strand of silver hair has fallen in front of his face, and you unconsciously reach up for it, your hand freezing mid-air when you realize what you're doing.

His hand comes up to caress yours, and slowly, he presses a soft kiss to your palm.

A soft moan nearly escapes your lips at how soft the gesture is. How gentle it feels. How right.

"I want you." He says, still holding your hand.

The two of you stand, mere inches away from one another.

Until a startled voice pierces the atmosphere, destroying the mood. "Shit, excuse me."

A boy stands in the middle of the aisle, a book in his hand. The day's first customer. He smiles sheepishly, pointing to the section you and Aemond have conveniently blocked, "Sorry, uh, I need to check out some of those."

You quickly step away from the shelf, and from Aemond. "Oh, excuse us. Please go right ahead." You wave him through.

Aemond does not move, his eyes irately landing on the boy. He is plainly displeased at the intrusion, not bothering to hide it. Spoiled, rich baby.

"Aemond, move over here." You address him, pulling at his hand. That gets his attention.

He does not let go of your hand, and directs you to the next aisle. But the haze has subsided for you. Or at least, it has to, for now.

"I have to work." You mumble. The words sound so dull after everything that has been said.

"Alright. I'll wait here."

"Pardon?"

"I'll wait here until you can leave with me for a little while."

Your mouth parts in frustration, confusion, or is it awe? You no longer know for sure. This day is certainly shaping up to be more eventful than you are prepared for.

"Aemond," you try to implore gently, "my first break is in four hours. Surely, you won't just wait here until then."

"Why ever not?" He looks amused at your growing incredulity. "I've got time to kill. Besides, I've got all these books to keep me busy."

"You would wait for me for four hours, and then what?"

"Then, I suppose, I'll take you out for lunch." His thumb continues to draw circles on the back of your hand, which almost escapes your notice. It felt so normal, just as if he has held your hand a thousand times before.

His hand reaches up to stroke your cheekbone, before tilting your head up at him. "Please say yes, darling."

Your heart races, even without its usual helping of caffeine. Looking at Aemond, you think that your break cannot come soon enough.

"Okay."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

For the next four hours, Aemond keeps his word and waits.

He moves to a table within eyeshot of the counter where you're working. It is clear that he is watching you, glancing at you from time to time and throwing a smirk your way.

You struggle to keep up appearances, cordially greeting customers and ringing in their purchases. You fight the temptation to walk over to Aemond, nudge his face towards his book, and tell him to quit staring at you like that.

His presence makes you infinitely more self-aware, and you try not to watch your every move, but you do anyway.

Aemond seems content to wait in silence, poring over the pages of his novel, until someone in particular walks in the store.

“I’m sorry, miss, I must be in the wrong place. My good friend Y/n promised that this would be the best bookstore in the city.” A familiar voice says. “Seems cozy, sure, but far from the best, wouldn’t you say?”

You look up at the new arrival, whom you immediately recognize. Aemond visibly straightens in his corner, noticing him as well.

“Jace!” You exclaim brightly, reaching over the counter to give him a hug.

Jacaerys chuckles deeply, and you can't help but feel warm at the sound. The sound of his laughter is something you love about him, genuine and free.

"Somebody missed me." His voice is muffled against your hair, and his arms wrap around you tightly.

"Course I did." You move to stand in front of him. "Back from Pentos so soon?"

"Yes, I finished my course early. I'm just that smart, as you well know." He taps the side of his head smugly.

"Ha-ha." You playfully punch his shoulder.

"Nephew." Aemond greets, interrupting your little reunion. "It's been a while."

"Aemond," Jace turns around to face him, "I didn't notice you, dear uncle. You look well."

"As do you." Aemond replies stoically. His hands are neatly kept behind his back, and he watches you and Jacaerys with keen eyes. "I was not aware that you and Y/n are so close."

You know that Aemond does not have the best relationship with his half-sister Rhaenyra's children. At first, you could not understand why. Jace and his siblings are among the kindest boys you've met. Luke is a bit roguish, but that is part of his charm.

But that was before Helaena explained to you how Aemond must have felt neglected growing up, always in the shadow of his nephews, who are much favoured by his own father Viserys. Helaena learned not to mind, telling you how she has found peace with her own self and her passions. She is aware that Viserys loves Rhaenyra above everyone else, and by extension, Rhaenyra's children. His marriage to their mother Alicent was borne out of necessity, not love.

And she only hinted at it, but apparently, Aemond was also bullied by the younger boys when they were children. Of course, that was long ago, but some scars never fully heal.

"We're good friends, Aemond." Jace responds, putting one arm over your shoulders, a movement that makes Aemond's lips curl in distaste. "Met her through Hel, of course, and I just couldn't get enough of this little rascal." He squeezes your shoulders, pulling you closer, making you wrap an arm around his waist.

"You're the rascal, leaving me for nearly half a year like that." You jest, matching his smile.

"Well, I'm back now, aren't I?" He says, then he turns back to his uncle, "What are you doing here, by the way? Just browsing for a new read?"

"No," Aemond loosens his stance a bit, looking at you, "I'm actually waiting to take Y/n out on a date."

A date? Is that what I agreed to?

"To lunch." You clarify, meeting his gaze.

"A lunch date." Aemond simply shrugs, deeming the matter settled.

"Uh-huh." Jace looks between the two of you, growing amused. "Listen, uncle, could you give me just a few minutes with Y/n. Then, I promise, she's all yours."

Aemond stands still for a few seconds, deliberating whether he should leave you with Jace. The silence is utterly deafening, so you say, "Aemond. I'll be with you in a bit. We can head out soon."

"Hmm." He relents, then stalks back to his table, his silver hair gently flowing behind his neck.

Jace watches Aemond walk away with a weird look on his face, and you already know what's coming next.

"Y/n?" Jace smirks at you. "What is going on?"

"He's... here for me."

"Worked your magic on him, I see? I remember you having a crush on him and all..."

"Alright, pipe down about it." Your face becomes flushed, and you catch Aemond's eye in the corner. "I didn't even do anything. He sought me out."

"Riiiight," Jace says, "and this is what you want?"

You shrug, "I do like him. You know this."

Jace studies your expression, seeing sincerity but also a tinge of something else. Doubt, perhaps? "Just be careful, alright? My uncle can be a little... unpredictable."

"He's... I mean, he actually seems a lot better than I expected. It's a shame you two aren't close."

"Yes, well, some things can't be helped." Jace's eyebrows furrow in thought. "What about that model that he's rumoured to be seeing? He can't keep messing around with her, if he wants you, y/n."

"Oh, I even met her, actually. She's nice. But Aemond says that they're apparently... over. Or... not working out. You know, I'm not sure." You shake your head, not wanting to think about it any further. It isn't really a matter that's been resolved yet.

"Okay, just be careful, alright? You're too good for him, y/n."

"Don't worry about me, Jace." You smile, looping your arm with his as you lean against the counter. "How's the family? How are Luke and Joffrey?"

"Well, Luke is Luke. You know. Gets into a fair share of trouble, what with his penchant for racing cars and all. Bloody well gives mum a heart attack each time he has to do a competition. I think he's coming back tomorrow from some race in Casterly Rock."

"That's our Luke." You sigh fondly.

"And Joff's as sweet as ever. Nearly done with middle school, that one. You're invited to his finishing ceremony, of course."

You smirk at his assurance, "I think Joff should be the one to invite me, no?"

Jace moves to stand in front of you again. "Doesn't matter. I'm the big brother, I say you're in."

He cages you in, with each of his hands on the counter. You then press your forehead against his chest, and he rests his chin atop your head. A position that the two of you have gotten so used to doing. Jace is truly like a brother to you, and he loves you like his actual sister in turn.

"Mmm, I did miss this." You breathe.

Aemond's fist bunches on the table, his book long-forgotten. You and Jacaerys were only friends, right? So why did he have to feel so uneasy?

He stands, not able to watch the scene any longer, and walks over to claim what he thinks should be his.

"Let's go." Aemond's voice pierces the silence, catching you by surprise. You move away from Jace, and throw him a sheepish smile, as if to apologize for Aemond's behaviour.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave.” Jace’s arm drops from your sides, and he takes a step back to keep Aemond’s envy from worsening.

“Won’t you join us for lunch?” You ask Jace. One glance at Aemond, and it’s plain to see that he’s not particularly fond of that idea.

“Nah, you two go ahead. I’ve got some matters to attend to.” Jace is quick to respond. Whether he’s telling the truth, or he just wants to appease Aemond, you remind yourself to ask him about it later.

“Nice seeing you, uncle.” Jace says to Aemond, as he heads for the door.

His hand is already at the doorknob, when he recalls something. He calls out to you, “Y/n, you will be coming to the Dragonstone ball, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know yet.” You reply. The annual Dragonstone ball is a grand event held by the Targaryens, and almost anyone of repute is sure to be invited. Celebrities, philanthropists, academics. You vaguely recall seeing last year’s ball everywhere in the news. That must have been around the time you first met Helaena, your friendship quickly developing soon after.

“Well if you are, would you - ” Jace begins to say, but he is immediately interrupted by Aemond.

“She’ll be coming with me.” Aemond declares.

“I am?” You say, startled, as you pick up your bag from behind the counter.

“Mmm. You are, darling.”

What the hell?

“See you around, y/n.” Jace relents, taking note of the heightened tension in the room.  

As soon as he’s gone, you address the silver-haired scoundrel who was quick to make a decision for you, much to your annoyance. “Listen, sweetheart,” you pat him on the chest, and head for the door, expecting him to follow suit, “it’s not going to be that easy.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The two of you sit in the secluded veranda of a Valyrian restaurant that, unsurprisingly, is owned by the Targaryens. Beautifully gilded tables are nestled in a garden, and Aemond had led you to their best section under an archway. The restaurant had been empty when you arrived, with all the staff standing ready to usher you inside. You suspect that Aemond went ahead and purposefully reserved the entire place for this very afternoon, but you let it slide.

“When is the Dragonstone ball?” you ask, after finishing most of your meal.

“I’d say in around two months. My mother is overseeing everything, as usual, so it’s really all up to her.”

“And,” you lean back, smiling wryly, “apparently, I am going with you?”

Aemond smirks, “Why wouldn’t you?”

You scoff. The ‘Prince of the city’ sure has a pair on him. “I don’t know, Aemond. Maybe because you did not really ask me to come with you.”

His smirk does not fade. He leans forward, taking your hand from across the table, his fingers tracing your skin. Your prideful facade is at risk of breaking, and you wish to simply hold his hand back lovingly.

But you keep a hold of yourself, waiting.

“Darling,” the corner of his lips turn up in amusement, most likely at your rapidly changing expression, “would you do me the honour of being my partner…” He deliberately pauses, taking delight in how your eyes widen, “… to the Dragonstone ball?”

Oh, you little shit. “Mmm,” you swallow, attempting to steel your nerves. Aemond patiently waits for your response, the damage already done. For a split second, he gets the urge to reach for your knee underneath the table.

Perhaps to comfort you. Or solely for his pleasure, adding to your already fluttering heartbeat. Or both.

“Okay,” you clear your throat, “I will go with you. Thank you for asking.”

Aemond smiles brightly, the dimples on his cheeks deepening. “I’m glad, darling.”

Something crosses your mind, and before you can push it down, curiosity gets the better of you. You find yourself asking, “By the way, who did you go with last year?”

His face falls, “You probably already know. Alys.”

“Of course,” you nod, “and the year before that? Her as well?”

“Y/n,” he says sternly, “that’s not of any importance.”

“Won’t she be expecting to go with you again this year?” You ask.

He simply shrugs, “She may have mentioned something recently to that effect.”

“Aemond - ”

“Look, the main reason why I brought her to previous balls was because I’ve always been expected to take a date. It’s just the proper thing to do, to keep up appearances, though I don’t really agree with it. If I were to bring someone, I don’t want to do it out of obligation. And I can finally do that now, with you. I want to be with you, and take you as my partner for the ball.”

How can I argue with that? It’s almost impossible, when his violet eyes blaze at me in the way that they always do.

“I just,” you look away, choosing to admire the way the vines wrap themselves around the archway, to distract yourself from Aemond’s heated gaze, “I don’t want her to feel like she’s being slighted in any way. I don't want her to feel like I’m… stealing you away… or something.”

Aemond smiles, “By all means, steal me away, darling.”

“I’m being serious.” You attempt a stern tone, but it falls flat as soon as you see his smile.

“I was never hers to keep. You, however…”

“What?”

“You’re more than welcome to call me yours, if you wish.”

“Aemond.” You want to scold him for being so forward, not when there are some things that still need to be resolved. But you also want to trust him, to trust in whatever it is the two of you are becoming.

You realize you are already in too deep. How? The possibility of ever losing him is enough to fill your stomach with dread. If Aemond will be yours, then he will also be yours to lose.

And you don’t know what you will do if that happens.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next two weeks pass by in relative bliss. Aemond makes an effort to see you almost every day, visiting you in the bookstore or meeting you after your lectures. You learn more about him in this time, than in the past year you’ve known him. The two of you have always admired each other from afar, but now that Aemond has begun to completely open up to you, it’s as if you’ve known him your whole life.

It's as if he’s one of the pillars holding everything together around you. A comfortable constant. As well as a conflagration, casting his radiance over everything. Aemond is like a magnet, a desirable paradox drawing everyone to him. The amount of looks you get from your fellow students whenever Aemond picks you up from university made you uneasy at first, but you’ve learned to find the humour in it.

Aemond’s smug smirk at their reaction each time he takes your hand, stealing you away, is surely enough to make you feel giddy inside.

Everything seemed too good to be true, and perhaps it was.

The abrupt end to this brief golden period began one evening, as you and Helaena are in her bedroom, perusing through countless gown designs online to wear for the Dragonstone ball.

Aemond had been away on business to a nearby city, and you eagerly await his return. Then a sharp ringing echoes throughout the room, coming from Helaena’s phone, a sound that makes you anxious though you cannot pinpoint why in the moment.

She glances at the screen, before quickly turning to you. “It’s my father.”

“Oh, answer it then.”

“That’s strange,” her face contorts in confusion, “he almost never calls.”

Helaena excuses herself, walking over to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her reflection on the glass is only faintly visible to you, and you struggle to make anything out of the muffled conversation.

A long, torturous minute passes before the call finishes. When Helaena turns to face you, her face is white as a sheet.

You stand, and rush over to her side. “Hel? What is it?”

At your touch, something snaps in her, and she becomes frantic. “It’s… it’s my brother… it’s Aemond… ” She quickly scrambles around the room, putting on her coat and shoes.

“Aemond?” You feel nauseous with worry. “What happened, Hel?”

“I have to get to the hospital. Aemond and Luke got into an accident.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

An entire week passes before you hear from any of them. Helaena had rushed off alone to the hospital that night, and while you were desperate to come along and see Aemond, she explained that her parents preferred that only family came to visit.

You understood. Or at least, you tried to. You went home feeling weak all over, and it only worsened when you saw that the accident was already plastered all over the news.

It was reported that Aemond and Lucerys were each driving their cars at dangerous speeds, when one of them must have collided with the other, crashing onto the freeway. It was alleged that Aemond’s car had flipped over multiple times before finally landing down a hill. The extent of their injuries are not made public, probably at the authority of Viserys himself, but the masses have been quick to speculate.

Jace calls you while you are staying home one afternoon, having opted out of attending all your lectures for the day. For the past few days, actually.

“Hey, you,” He greets softly, knowing how you must already be reeling with stress. “Holding up okay?”

“Me? What about you, Jace? How is everyone? How is Luke? Aemond? Fuck, I haven’t heard from anyone.”

He breathes, “We’re fine, y/n. Luke just has a broken leg, but it should heal fine. He does have to put up with a cast for several weeks, though.”

Okay. Luke is alright. But you still can’t let out a sigh of relief, not until…

“What about Aemond?” You ask nervously.

“That’s… another thing.”

“Please just tell me, Jace.”

“Are you home? I’m actually nearby. We should maybe discuss this in person.” He offers.

And only half an hour later, he is standing at your door. You quickly envelop him in a tight hug, and he breathes deeply, feeling comforted by your presence.

Once the two of you are settled on your couch, cups of warm tea held between each of your hands, you begin talking.

“Aemond is fine. For the most part.” He says. “He’s alive and well, but he’s suffered an injury.”

“What injury?”

“He doesn’t want anyone to know, Y/n. At least, not just yet.”

You pause, unsure if you want to press further. You do want to know, but you also want to respect Aemond’s privacy. Besides, if he wanted you to know, he would tell you himself, wouldn’t he?

“I understand,” you relent, sinking into the couch, “I’m just glad they’re okay.”

Jace notices your distress, and reaches for you, “Come here.”

The embrace offers a momentary respite. Your head drops down on his shoulder, and you both enjoy the silence that follows.

“One thing’s for sure,” Jace says after a while, “There’s no way in hell that mum is letting Luke drive again. At least not for a long, long fucking time.”

You smile at that, feeling light for the first time in a while.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The Dragonstone ball is once again making its rounds in the media, and this year, it is reported to have been delayed for two more months, allowing the dust to settle over the terrible accident that befell two of the Targaryen heirs.

Just a week after you learn about this piece of news, you finally hear from Aemond.

Your heart skips a beat when his name flashes on the screen, and you pick up your phone with a slightly trembling hand. You press the green button, and lift the phone to one ear.

Nothing. But then, you hear soft breathing at the other end. It’s a silly notion, but you think you recognize those breaths to be his. It can only be him.

“Aemond, I know you’re there.” You say, biting your lip in anticipation.

“Dar…” he cuts himself off, “Y/n. I’m alright, I apologize for only calling you now.”

Coldness seeps in your bones when you notice how he corrected himself. Why?

“It’s alright, Aemond. I’m just relieved that you’re fine. I was so worried, you have no idea.”

The sound of your voice tugs at his heart, one which he sorely missed. He swallows, struggling to bring himself to say what he means to. “I need to tell you something. About the ball… I’ve decided that I should take Alys instead. She was already expecting that she is to be my date, and I just think that it’s rude if I…”

“That’s fine.” You say, far too quickly, not believing your own words. “I… I did consider that. You should take her.”

“Darling,” Aemond finally says, unable to hold back, “I…”

“It’s okay,” you attempt to comfort him, but it’s mostly for your own sake, “I completely understand.”

He takes a deep breath. As he envisions how you must look on the other line, he instantly feels a pang of regret.

“I’ll… I’ll see you around, yeah?” You say, wanting to be done with this damned call.

“Hmm. I’ll see you, darling.”

You throw your phone down on your desk. Feeling numb all over, you make your way to the kitchen, and quickly take a bottle of red bottle from the cabinet. You make quick work of the cork, and pour yourself a hefty amount.

You slosh the liquid around your glass, staring at that familiar shade of maroon.

And sure enough, it brings you back to that night on their balcony.

“For fuck’s sake.” You whisper to yourself. Closing your eyes, you see him.

What happened, Aemond? Have I already lost you?

“How could I?” You say bitterly. “When he was never mine?”

The part two preview that I posted, has been relegated to part three, after much editing. It's meant to be a steamy, little scene that unfolds in the Dragonstone ball.

And I had to work in the tragic injury that Aemond suffers in a way that might be suited to this modern setting. It's just hard for me to picture child on child violence happening here, with one of them taking a brutal dagger to the eye. At least not in this world, which is meant to resemble ours 😂

Oohh and thoughts on Jace? I actually don't intend him to be a love interest for the reader, and more so a genuine friend. But Aemond doesn't need to know that, does he? He surely won't believe it in the events at follow... 😏

Taglist for this series is still open (for now) so comment below if you wish to be added. 🤍

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @bdpst-massacre @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @depressedperson88 @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @noxytopy @louschan @aemondssuit @virginslut08 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @booknerd2004 @sarcasticfangirl @witchyvik @julieeba @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @account3168 @this-is-a-bad-idea @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @its-hopes-world @ririrare @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07

[lazybutsmexy]

I don't really have an idea in my mind rn. But i do want to request ( if you dont mind ) protective König or jealousy König either of them are interesting for me

And just wanted to say that all of ur works are amazing !! *chef kiss*

( ignore my grammar, I'm quite bad at english TT )

Hello love!! I'm so happy you liked my writings hehe and don't worry about your English, it's completely fine 🫶♥️

Jealous König drabble

•~•~•~•

Jealous König is a rarity. In fact, it's a "blink and you miss it" sort of reaction. That is because he doesn't show off how it bothers him when you laugh at other men's jokes or don't immediately shrug someone off when they lay a hand on your shoulder. Unless he notices that you're uncomfortable - which he never misses, by the way - he won't act on it.

In his mind, he has no control over who you think is funny or who you let touch your body. He trusts you, with his whole body, mind and heart, and respects your integrity as a person, a strong individual, a partner. It doesn't mean he can't feel jealous, but it slowly simmers in his body as he tries not to let it show.

He knows that jealousy comes from a place of insecurity, of seeing himself as not enough to fill your needs. Another source of insecurity is that nasty bug in the back of his head telling him how you would replace him at the drop of a hat for someone more capable of filling those needs.

Jealousy to König means insecurity, anger, greed. He always wants to be a better man for you, and that means getting ahold of his emotions and keep them down, lest he does something that - God forbids - hurts you.

He is quiet in general, as a default setting, especially in large gatherings. And his eyes always search for and find your figure no matter the situation. So you don't instantly notice that his blood is slowly boiling in the inside at the mere thought of another man shooting his shot with you. For the past ten minutes, König has been looking for any clue in your body language that indicated that this private was making you uncomfortable, just so he could stomp over to you and scare the shit out of him away.

You feel his stare, so you turn to him and smile sweetly before you notice that his eyes don't crinkle at the edges like he usually does as a response. The man next to you - you already forgot his name, that's how unimportant he is to you - continues talking about some of his accomplishments back in highschool, but you tune out his voice in order to study König a little more.

His posture is rigid, his arms crossed over his chest and his breathing slow. Even from across the bar where the party is happening, you can feel a threatening aura emanating from him, as if you're watching a hungry tiger ready to pounce.

Usually, your blood fills with endorphins when you notice König staring at you, as that tends to be an indicator that he wants you. But this is a different stare, and fills your blood with ice. König emanates anger.

After being so intimate with König for a few months, you have learned to pick apart the clues in his behaviour. And right now, you want to kick yourself in the face for not noticing sooner. The man next to you - who you considered no more than background noise at this point - could end up bedridden for who knows how long if you didn't do something quick.

You look again at him and interrupt him with a smile, making sure that König could read your lips from where he was: "nice to meet you, uh," you quickly glance at his tag, "private Lang, but I'm going to join my boyfriend now." The private just stared owlishly at you as you got up and left some bills on the counter, before turning and walking towards König of all people.

Konig himself felt a mixture of different emotions: pride that you called him your boyfriend, relief because you preferred him over that dude, annoyance that it took you so long to leave that guy behind, and utter giddiness over being called your boyfriend in such a public setting. (He would swallow the last one down and leave it for a talk later).

He also got up and opened the door for you, indicating that he was more than ready to finally have you all to himself, and you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the long night of atonement you had in front of you.