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p0orbaby · 2 days ago

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Getting You Alone Isn’t Easy

summary: two reckless lovers, one ill-timed call, and zero chance of stopping

warnings: suggestive but not explicit

a/n: the length of time it took me to decide on a title for this was painful

word count: 1.5k

You’re draped over Alexia, straddling her in the faint, golden light that sneaks through the blinds. Her hands grip your hips in that familiar way, like you’re the last thing keeping her from floating off. You’re gasping, breathless, clinging to the taut warmth of her body beneath you as though the world is ending and this is your only way to stay grounded. Her hands, usually gentle, are digging in hard enough to leave bruises, but she’s sweet like that, knows exactly when you need to feel it. You can almost picture the bruises they’ll leave behind, thumbprints like violet ink smudged across your skin, each one a reminder that she was here, and that she wanted you badly enough to leave a mark.

It’s been a day, one of those long ones that started with a sun-blinded hangover, progressed into a searing headache, and then—once you forced yourself to actually acknowledge the calls you missed last night—moved rapidly toward near apocalyptic levels of panic.

Somewhere between the drink you had to “take the edge off” and the fourth one you drank without even thinking about it, Alexia texted you, and it felt like a solution, or maybe a distraction, though those two things are the same to you most of the time.

So here you are, in the thick of it, your bodies wrapped around each other, your mind slipping into that strange, dreamlike state where it feels like your skin isn’t your own. Everything’s heightened—her touch, her scent, the whisper of her breath on your neck. You’re right at the edge, teetering, and then—

Your phone rings.

Of course it fucking does.

At first, you ignore it. The vibrating hum is muffled against the sheets, barely noticeable above your own heartbeat, but then it rings again, louder this time, insistent. It’s like a drill sergeant at dawn, determined to ruin whatever peace you’d managed to find. You freeze, eyes half-closed, but Alexia’s hands don’t loosen. She’s looking up at you with an expression that’s half bemused, half annoyed, as if she’s only just managed to convince herself that you’re here, and now you’re about to ruin it with some petty, buzzing bit of reality.

You almost get through it, on the cusp letting it go to voicemail or hurling the damn thing into the bottom of your Birkin where it belongs. But something in you—a survival instinct, maybe—forces you to reach for it, fumbling as you do so. Alexia’s eyes follow your hand, then flick back up to yours with an exasperated look that says, Really? Now?

You manage to grab it without rolling entirely off her, though it’s a close call. Her hands move down to your waist, still holding you in place as you glance at the screen, and of course, it’s George. It’s always George. You swear he has some kind of sixth sense, an uncanny ability to detect the exact moment you’ve slipped into some semblance of happiness, so he can yank you back with some catastrophe or another. The man is a walking interruption.

“Don’t,” Alexia murmurs, pulling you back to the matter at hand, her voice soft but firm, her hands slipping up to your ribs with a kind of slow, determined patience. But you know better. If you don’t answer now, he’ll only call back five more times, and each time, he’ll sound more panicked, until he finally leaves you a voice note that’s somehow worse than the call itself.

“I have to,” you mutter, as you answer, attempting to clear your throat and sound like you weren’t just seconds away from giving in to everything she was doing to you.

“Hello?” you say, trying and failing to keep the breathlessness out of your voice.

George’s voice crackles through the speaker, shrill and brimming with that particular brand of theatrical urgency agents reserve for “crises.” He sounds faintly nasal, the sort of voice you imagine would belong to a man with an allergy to anything fun. You imagine him sitting in his cold, grey office somewhere in Soho, every surface immaculate and white, his expression permanently fixed into a grimace of perpetual disappointment.

“You need to sit down,” he says, voice pitched in that “I’m barely holding it together” tone that never actually means anything good.

“I am sitting,” you manage, though it comes out sounding more like a gasp than anything else, because Alexia—God bless her—is now trailing her lips along the column of your throat, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re very much occupied now. In fact, you’re convinced she’s doing this on purpose, her eyes meeting yours with that devilish glint that says she’s fully aware of what she’s doing. You pull back and give her a look—part warning, part exasperation—but she only grins, slowly, like she’s daring you to keep up the charade.

George doesn’t miss a beat. “There are photos,” he says, each syllable dripping with an ominous weight that would make anyone else think he was delivering news of a tragedy.

“Photos?” you ask, as Alexia’s hand slips a little higher, her fingers just grazing the edge of your panties. You’re barely holding it together, biting down hard on your lip to keep from making a sound. “George, there are always photos. What are you on about?”

He sighs, the kind of exasperated sigh he reserves for when he’s forced to explain the intricacies of your own life to you. “Not just any photos,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper that somehow makes everything sound worse. “These are… explicit”

“Explicit?” you repeat, your voice catching because Alexia’s lips are trailing across your collarbone now, her fingers dangerously close to places that make it impossible to sound remotely professional. “Define explicit, George”

He pauses, a beat of silence so thick with hesitation you can practically see his nervous, tight-lipped expression. “You and Alexia. On that yacht. Full-on… everything. Let’s just say someone with a very long-range lens took a rather extensive interest in your… activities”

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do, it’s like being doused in cold water. You’re suddenly hyper-aware of everything—the sweat on your skin, Alexia’s fingers toying with you, her mouth now having moved to the swell of your exposed breast. You can’t tell if you’re more annoyed or amused by the fact that, somehow, your most private moments have once again become public property.

Alexia looks up at you once more, eyes glinting with something between curiosity and enjoyment, as if she can tell exactly what George is saying and finds the whole thing hilarious.

“So you’re telling me,” you say, trying to sound casual, though it’s hard with Alexia’s hands and mouth all over you, “that someone out there’s publishing wildlife documentaries of my sex life?”

“Don’t be flippant,” George snaps, though his voice cracks a little, like he’s barely holding it together. “This is serious. The Daily Mail already has them. And they’re… well, they’re explicit. The kind of thing they’d plaster on the front page if they could get away with it”

For a moment, you consider the insanity of it all—your life, reduced to some tawdry tabloid spread, the kind of thing boring nosey housewives read in supermarket queues. You imagine the headlines, the breathless, shocked tones they’d use to describe “the scandal.” Never mind the fact that you’re not the first celebrity to get caught like this, nor will you be the last. But still, it stings in that strange, twisted way fame always does, a reminder that your life isn’t really your own.

“I’m sorry, George,” you say, barely stifling a moan as Alexia’s hand moves just right, making it almost impossible to keep up the conversation. “But I don’t exactly have a solution for you right now”

George lets out a strangled noise. “Well, you bloody well better come up with one. Unless you want the world to know what you look like without your clothes on. Which, I might add, is not exactly… career-friendly”

You stifle a laugh, more out of habit than anything else. Alexia’s fingers are moving with that slow, calculated patience she knows drives you mad, and you can feel your resolve slipping. “Look, George,” you say, your voice strained, “I’ll call you back. After I… handle things”

“What? You can’t just hang up on me!” he practically shrieks, but you’re already pressing ‘end call’ and tossing the phone aside.

The phone lands back somewhere on the bed, George’s panicked voice cutting off abruptly. For a moment, there’s silence, and then Alexia lets out a low, throaty laugh, her eyes alight with amusement. She reaches her free hand up, trailing her fingers along your jaw, and there’s something wicked in her smile that makes you forget the world outside the bedroom.

“Where were we?” you murmur, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss, slow and lingering, the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything else.

“Right here,” she whispers, her voice soft but possessive, and you can’t help but smile as she pulls you back down, your bodies tangling once more as you lose yourself in her warmth.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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quodo-brainrot · 10 hours ago

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I did an interesting thought exercise with this. Several people in the notes have already pointed out that Odo would have been super OP if he could flawlessly shapeshift into other people like the other Changelings can. (And in the course of the series, we see exactly why it's so OP.)

But! There is one interesting and hilariously simple weakness they could have introduced if they decided that Odo was that good.

Quark is on to something when he starts licking objects to try to figure out if one of them is Odo. You know why? Because Odo doesn't have a sense of smell or taste. I doubt he could replicate something that he can't even sense, so an Odo shot glass would almost certainly taste weird compared to a normal one.

The fact that Quark uses this strategy repeatedly suggests that it has worked at some point, even if we never see it on camera.

I believe that lacking a sense of smell would be surprisingly devastating to any attempts to masquerade as someone else.

Science and speculation under the cut.

As kids, most of us were taught that animals (especially canines) can smell a kajillion billion times better than humans can, but that's a pretty broad statement that has a bit of an 'apples vs. oranges' bent to it.

Humans are actually quite good at smelling the things that are important for us to smell... like each other.

I'm sure you've heard of how blind people are sometimes known to develop a much more keen sense of smell to compensate. Some become capable of identifying people based on scent alone.

Well, it turns out that we don't actually need to go blind to be really good at smelling each other, it's just that a lot of our scent processing is done subconsciously.

With all that in mind, I'm now envisioning a hilarious episode where Odo tries to mimic Rom and Quark just fucking instantly shuts him down because not only has Odo failed to mimic Rom's specific scent, but Quark can also hear that his heartbeat and breathing patterns aren't anywhere near accurate.

Figuring that maybe Ferengi are just an edge case due to their natural hypervigilance, Odo tries to mimic a human and finds that even the humans are suddenly suspicious of him - even if most of them can't put their finger on why.

To the humans, it's very much a classic example of being in the presence of an 'Alternate' - there's something uncanny about this person, but the explanation for why is juuust out of conscious reach.

I think it would be especially funny if humans and maybe Bajorans are the only races who can't really articulate why they feel suspicious. Almost every other race just immediately nails it with 'he doesn't smell right.' I feel like Cardassians would be especially good at it.

Even with this weakness, the storylines with the other Changelings mimicking people wouldn't necessarily need to be altered or removed. You could just write that they isolated themselves enough to avoid too much suspicion, or they simply used their authority to quickly shut down anyone who doubted them.

But poor Odo is absolutely no match for DS9's found family - they all know each other too well, to such a degree that the Station-Wide Polycule is a widely accepted headcanon. They're all so accustomed to the thick fog of pheromones hanging over Ops that they're going to immediately be suspicious when Bashir shows up smelling mostly of nothing (but also faintly of Quark for some weird reason).

Absolutely transcendent move from Star Trek to write a shapeshifter character who's kind of bad at it. You're like, "oh so he can impersonate other characters?" and they're like no he's not very good at faces :(

#ds9 #odo

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flemingology · 2 days ago

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kitbag chronicles ─ alessia russo x reader

in which: you voice your love for alessia through the notes you put in her kitbag

warnings: none, tiniest bit suggestive if you squint

wc: 1.4k

a/n: finally got around to writing something for my number 1. this is so incredibly random and it's all over the place, but idk i lowkey kinda like it... i think? idk i probably shouldn't reread it because i might hate it if i do. hope you enjoy!

Ever since you and Alessia started dating, the England striker had made it very clear that she loved the little things you did for her. Memorising her coffee order, remembering her favourite flowers, new scented candles in her favourite scent on a bi-weekly basis. If you asked Alessia, she would say you were the most thoughtful person she’d ever met.

You’d grown to love the smile you put on your girlfriend’s face with those small displays of affection. You were forever seeking new ways to show your love for her, without stating the obvious over and over again. It kept both of you on your toes, always working on your relationship and making the other fall in love with you over and over again.

The last couple weeks, you'd found something new to do for Alessia. Her busy schedule keeping her away from you almost every single day of the week, you had to find ways to work around it and to remind Alessia that, even when she was at the club, you were thinking about her.

Since a couple months, it had become a little tradition that you prepared Alessia's kitbag. It wasn't much work at all, all she put in there were a shirt and a pair of trousers, or shorts – based on what the weather was like that day in London. You insisted that you did it for her, claiming that that way you felt like she had a little part of you with her during the day.

Today, though, you felt like trying something different. When you were younger, your mum always prepared your lunchbox for when you went to school. To make it a little extra special, she always added a little note for you to discover when you had lunch. It could be something funny, a drawing or simply a reminder how much she loved you – you didn't mind the teasing that came with it from your friends.

You figured it would be something Alessia loved, seen how much she usually liked it when you did little things like that for her. So this morning, after putting the blonde's training top and trousers in her kitbag, you grabbed a note and started writing something down. You decided to keep it simple for your first time of doing this, something you knew would just give Alessia a little spring in her step for the rest of the day. "Go get em, Lessi. Can't wait to have you home with me again tonight," is what you decided on, quickly putting away the pen and putting the piece of paper in her bag before she could see what you were up to.

When Alessia left later that morning, you pushed her kitbag in her hands, as you did every day. With a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips and a quick hug, she was out the door with the promise of cooking together later that night. Love goes through the stomach, or whatever they say.

It was no longer than 30 minutes later when your phone chimed with a message from your blonde lover.

From: Less 🤍 I got the note, baby. So cute. I love you so much :')

You smiled brightly at your phone screen, a warm, fuzzy feeling coursing through you at the idea of Alessia opening her kitbag and finding the note. You quickly typed a message back to her, wanting her to read it before she inevitably had to get her day going at the training centre.

To: Less 🤍 It's true, though. Counting down the hours until you're home, like every day. Go kick ass, my love. x

With you working from home, it had been quite the adjustment. Normally, when Alessia went to the training centre, you'd also leave the apartment and be on your way to your office. But with Alessia's recent transfer to Arsenal, swapping Manchester for London, it wasn't so straightforward anymore for you to go into the office everyday. 2 hours 30 on the train or easily 4 hours by car, it just wasn't doable anymore for a daily job. So you and your boss agreed that you could work from home in London, with one visit to the office a month. You were forever grateful for the opportunity, very glad that you didn't have to find a new job in London, but it brought its hardships too.

Quite frankly, you grew quite bored at home. You had your work, and you always managed to fill the best part of 8 hours with whatever you had to do that day, but the house felt empty without Alessia. A new city, new surroundings, new apartment, you hadn't quite accustomed to it all yet and you hadn't failed to make it known to Alessia that you missed her terribly whenever she was out at training.

Nonetheless, you would never stand in the way between her and her career, it was just another obstacle that you two would have to face and manoeuvre around, but you were certain that you would navigate it perfectly. You had a strong relationship, and everyone around you would probably say that you were made for each other.

With the knowledge gathered that Alessia enjoyed her little note, you took it upon yourself to give her some more frequently. Not every day, because you didn't want her to grow old of them, but you sprinkled some in throughout the week – keeping her on her toes.

It wasn't until one particular morning at the Arsenal training centre that Alessia realized that her notes wouldn't just always be you loving up on her. She'd left you high and dry that morning before leaving, feeling you up and kissing all over your body until her alarm went off. She was reluctant about finishing what she had started, despite your whining when she left you alone in bed and had started getting ready for her day. She didn't want to be late, understandably, but she also left you with a very uncomfortable throbbing between your legs. Her promise of continuing her ministrations later that night hadn't really convinced you, and you decided to tease her a little about it through a note.

This time, unlike all the other times you'd left a note in Alessia's kitbag, you didn't receive a message about. Not just that, the Arsenal striker hadn't texted you all day and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about what you did. You didn't want to push it too far, but you were starting to feel like you did. You texted her a little after lunch-time, wishing her a good gym session, but you got left on read.

Later that day, when Alessia came home, you were nervous to approach her. You were upstairs, finishing up on a couple of e-mails, before you went downstairs and joined the blonde who had plopped down on the couch and turned on the football. "Hi, baby," you said softly, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Alessia tried to put on a sour face, but her resolve weakened quickly when you pressed another few kisses all over her face.

"That was mean, you know?" cocking her head at you, eyebrow raised and index finger pointing at you. You couldn't hide the smile that crept on your face. "Don't give me that, Russo! If anyone was mean, it was you. This morning. Leaving me all worked up like that," you reasoned, pointing your index finger right back at her, poking her nose in the process causing a small smile to form on her lips.

"You know what, you're probably right," your girlfriend started, leaning closer towards you and trapping your body in between her arms, positioning the two of you so she was hovering over you on the couch. "That was so incredibly unfair of me and I think it's only right that I get the opportunity to make it up to you."

Alessia dipped her head towards your neck and started pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the skin there. You hummed and tangled one of your hands into her hair, slightly tugging when you could feel the scrape of her teeth on your sensitive skin. "You're lucky I love you, Russo," you breathed.

"Oh, I know. Now let me show you just how much I appreciate you, please."

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #arsenal wfc #england wnt

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 days ago

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chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done.

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’.

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face.

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout.

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh.

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind.

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further.

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time.

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her.

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no.

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused.

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday.

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner.

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.”

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true.

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan.

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy.

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair.

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly.

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you.

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response.

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…”

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands.

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers.

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand.

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist.

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?”

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it.

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face.

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin.

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt.

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence?

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms?

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him.

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm.

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder.

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on.

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you.

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast.

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises.

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment.

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter.

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt.

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate.

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him.

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #matt smith #matt smith x reader

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howtofightwrite · 20 hours ago

Text

Quick Update

As most of you know, we're in the US. So, the last couple days have been a bit rough.

There's not going to be a post on Friday, and I think everyone that's in the Discord already figured that out.

With everything that's going on, we're going to be put in a slightly precarious position in the near future. We're working on options for what to do. But, with the way things are looking right now, there's probably going to be some disruptions, while we ensure our own safety.

I wanted to thank everyone who supports us through Patreon. We do really appreciate that, and we're going to try to keep our output going, but obviously there's going to be some hickups in the near future.

Obviously, we're going to see what happens, but, I wanted to let you guys know, we do love you guys. Thank you for being here with us, through all these years.

-Starke

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beautifullilacsky · 3 days ago

Text

It's been a while since I wrote about you. Not because I haven't missed you or didn't have good things to say; it's because it's been so, so incredibly good. There is too much for me to say. There have been too many moments that I'd like to write down for me to remember for a lifetime. We came back from our first vacation together, and gad, I have never been more sure about you.

By switching to the other side of the sidewalk so you were the one closer to the road, you made me feel safe. Wearing your 'emergency pants', in case you needed to move the van when the wind was too much for me (which, it was, and you moved the van without a wrinkle or hint of annoyance in your face), you made me feel cared for. Just like all the times you asked me if I was okay. You made me feel heard and made me feel like you truly wanted to understand and hear me, when you asked me how the vacay is going. What our further wishes are and if we want to change anything. You made me feel important and like a princess when you drove around half of the island, just to find a souvenir that I really wanted (even if you usually don't do souvenir hunts). Every single day, you made me feel so good. All of the full body cuddling at night, almost forming a blanket the way you folded yourself all around me. All of the caring during the day. All of the communicating and comfortable silences. The amount of planning you have done, making sure we arrive there and back home safely and that we can "haal het beste uit" our vacation. Knowing I am uncomfortable with manuals and especially a van, you drove all of the time; even if at times, it was stressful as shit. And, everything that came with living in a van; you emptied our water, refilled it, dusted the inside, checked the difficult-closing door, cooking, and did a lot of the dishes.

All the times I asked you to pose a certain way for a picture, you did exactly that. On hikes, you would ask me if the speed was okay, or, like you did most of the time, you'd let me in front. That way, I could go my own speed and you'd be sure that I felt comfi and good. The cute smiles when I said something to Beertje; how I adore and feel so so safe when you like seeing the child inside of me. Ha, the way you went back to souvenir stores with me as I regretting not buying something, while once again, not being annoyed at all. Also, how you paid for my toilet visit twice, knowing I don't carry around 50 cents. It's not expensive, but I know you'd never pay for a toilet like that. But if I really needed and wanted to, you gave me the moneys and always told me to take my time. The way you always let me play whatever music I would like to hear; is that something meaningful that I have overseen every single time (by thinking you just vibe with everything)?

My baby. I can't even describe it in words properly. You truly treated me like a princess. You asked me if u don't always do so. I had no choice but to take my blinding sunnies off during this vacation, seeing how well you treat me. In day to day life, it shines less bright. Now, I couldn't miss it, not even if I closed my eyes during the whole vacation.

One thing I will never ever forget. The 25th birthday you gifted me. You first gifted me a go-pro, which you had named "Renee s vlog camera". It's a typical niklas gift; useful. And damn, even if I was a bit overwhelmed with what it could do at the beginning, I friggin love it. We got to use it sooo many times during the vacay, and I am thrilled that we got to use it in those ways. I am sure there will be more times that I use it, which I am v excited for. And of course, the way you made sure that we got to do what I wanted to for my bday (a hike, an easy one to start with, which,,,, was harder than we had planned but you made sure that I was okay the whole time and we turned around when we both felt like it was a good time). And later, the whale 🐋 dolphin 🐬 watching in Funchal... (where we also looked at the doors I wanted to see, hiked up to a garden u thought I wanted to see, just to take a cable car to the actual palace where I wanted to go to (even if it sounded boring to u to go to a palace), and we ate at such a lovely restaurant, even twice!). Bro. Never will I ever forget the first time you said "I love you too". I was so deep into my feelings, I bit your arm. Yet, that wasn't enough to calm the roaring feeling inside of me. The one that was banging at the bottom of my throat, begging me to say the words. So. I did. "Don't say it back, but I love you so friggin much. Thank you so much for this.... I love you". I felt a weight falll of of my shoulders, as I put my head onto yours. Right there and then, even if I couldn't make it out a 100% over the sound of the waves, the motor from the boat, and the peace that had fallen over me, you said it. "I love you too". My head instantly bounced up: "what?!" I smile, as you also laugh and point out the sharks that you just spotted. Typical Niklas, talking about sharks when he wants to change to topic. Though, it doesn't change the fact that you said it back to me. And even if you are still debating what it means to love someone, maybe you felt the same way that I did right there, on the two front seats of this boat. There wasn't a way for me to explain why I felt the way I did. I just know. For me, it doesn't have to be based on facts. "Okay, so, I really appreciate what he did for me and I feel super safe, appreciated and good. So, in convlusion, that must mean that I love him". I am more of the feeling type. I felt overwhelmed by love for you right there and then. Maybe you felt the same, and told me that you love me too, even if you aren't factually sure that that means. Either way. I will remember you saying it. 24th of October, 3 days after my bday and 8 days before our one year anniversary. I know you only say things you mean, and if you didn't want to say it back, I gave you the options. "Don't say it back", I said the first time that I said I love you. After a short second, I said it again, and even if I didn't realize it, gave you the opportunity to say it back to me. Might not be that big of a deal to you, but as you might know, lol, it is a pretty big deal to me.

So. Baby. It seems impossible to word. But damn. You treated me like a princess. And Gash. I love you, so, so friggin much. No words. I am excited to spend so much more time with you in our future. Endless kisses to you, my love.

emilie.hofferber

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kirozai · 2 days ago

Text

—HSR YANDERES AS TROPES.

Forced Proximity? Soulmates..? Amenesia! Common tropes that always end up happy! Your favorite characters love you so so much! But.. is it in the way you want?...

content warnings: yandere, toxic love, unreliable narrator, descriptions of gore, unrealistic relationships, unwanted PDA, depressive elements, suggestive, gn!reader (maybe ideas for makeup but most of the part is gn) pairing(s): sunday x reader, blade x reader, aventurine x reader, jing yuan x reader word count: around 350-500 each, 2100+ words in all A/N: I got a tiny bit carried away

Aventurine - Amnesia

WHAT’S PLAYING: engravings - Ethan Bortnick

Your eyes are blinded by the casino lights. The sound of chips being thrown and cards being shuffled fills your ears. Things feel so familiar, but at the same time, completely foreign. You turn your eyes to your lover. At least you think he’s your lover.

Two weeks ago you woke up in the dead of night on a hospital bed feeling numb from your head to the tips of your toes. The hospital lights were blinding making you feel dreary. You slowly regained movement by wiggling your fingertips and finally being able to sit up on the comfortable bed. As you gazed around the room you felt shocked to see gold engravings on the trim of the walls. It’s obvious it was a hospital, but it felt too expensive.

And you? You felt out of place.

A nurse walked into your room with a pan of what seemed like a new IV bag and other things like syringes and such. She turned wide-eyed and gasped as she suddenly dropped the pan of expensive medical equipment. You couldn’t make out what she said as she mouthed something out loud. The drowsiness hit you and you passed out.

The next time you woke up to a man sitting beside your bed in the most luxurious clothes you ever laid eyes on. He looked worried, very worried. Realizing you woke up once again his Avgin eyes-

Wait Avgin?...

“Sweetheart! You’ve been out for months. How are you feeling? Is there any pain? How… Can…?” He spoke quickly but after the first couple of sentences, his words faded into mush.

He called you sweetheart though, you deduced he was someone close to you. Someone that must have cared for you.

But then why do you feel-

Cutting your thoughts you paused. Thinking was causing you too much pain and headache at the moment. You tried to recall what happened.

And at that moment you realize you couldn’t even recall who you were.

After some time of recovery, you were able to get a couple of things down. The handsome man’s name was Aventurine. He is your lover. (?) You two have been together for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with severe amnesia, but your lover was kind enough to explain everything to you. Although, he was still hesitant to explain what happened to you and the reason why you were in the hospital.

You tried to get something out of the many doctors and nurses, but they seemed… scared.

Aventurine never left your side when other people were around. It was either you and him or no one at all. Leaving you lost and not being able to truly be clear about your condition. Everything went through Aventurine.

One day during your walk around the large hospital, Aventurine got a call. He looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, smiled at you, said it was an urgent call, apologized, and left for a brief moment.

You dragged your IV stand a couple of steps more and abruptly stopped in your tracks as you overheard a pair of nurses talk about… you?

“IPC… they… lies… Aventurine… hiding.” Those were the only few words you were able to make out.

It no longer mattered though because Aventurine’s bright smile found you again and you walked back to your room first. If only you could see the piercing glare that he sent to the nurses. He wouldn’t know what to do if you heard about the fates of them after spreading lies to your pretty head.

After the recovery, you settled in enough to “your life”. Now you sit next to your lover whose luck shines more vibrant than a newborn baby’s laughter. You feel content for the most part.

I wonder if you would still feel content if you were able to take a good look past Aventurine’s perfect poker face. While you sleep he watches you worriedly, wondering if you’ll remember one day. Remember that this perfect love story he crafted isn’t so perfect after all. He wonders how you would react if you were to find out again the atrocities he’s committed in the name of “love”. He holds his chips tightly, but luck has always been on his side.

So tonight like any other night, you’ll smile with no idea of what had occurred in the past. At the end of the day, occasionally it is better to live unaware.

•••

Jing Yuan - Grumpy x Sunshine

WHAT'S PLAYING: Carousel - Melanie Martinez

The Luofu General was known for his joyous laughter and the positivity that he spread throughout the entire planet. He joked and was an infectious smiler. You on the other hand were known as the Yin to his Yang. If Jing Yuan was the sun, you were his moon. It’s adorable on paper, isn’t it?

You do nothing less than agree with the fact that your husband Jing Yuan was very positive. The reason why differed from others though.

You believed the reason he was so happy was because he sucked every smile, every laugh out of you.

Your story was the average fairytale, opposite attracts and then they fall in love. The End.

Unfortunately for you, Jing Yuan was anything but ordinary, and maybe that played a part in your perfect tragedy.

Jing Yuan loved you. You knew that for sure. He had always been a PDA person, always close to you and you would most likely be seen dead than without his arm around your waist. It wasn’t a big deal though. This is what lovers usually do right?

Until you tried to back away. Things got… messy.

Arguments ensued and you realized that he never really treated you as an equal. He loved you, yes, but he viewed you as lesser and somehow put you on a pedestal at the same. exact. time.

“You don’t respect me.” You stated firmly.

“But I love you.” He replied as if nothing was wrong.

You never thought your husband to be a jealous person and truly he was not. The possessiveness is what got you through.

It began small from making excuses on why you shouldn’t go out,

“It’s my day off!” or “It might rain soon.” Both are lazy excuses you’ve heard again and again. Yet you still seemed to fall again and again for his sunshine charms and wits.

You were the perfect lover to Jing Yuan, loving, kind, and malleable to believe whatever he wanted you to believe.

At some point after the large argument you two shared, you didn’t remember the last time when you had left the estate.

You felt stuck, stuck on a carousel that kept going around and around and stuck trying to read between the lines of Jing Yuan’s perfect facade. If you caught him at the wrong time you wouldn’t see him for days and when he would return he would haphazardly apologize with the stupidest excuses.

You never raised your voice anymore after THAT argument though. You were too scared to. So even when he scratches his name into your skin, even if he hugs you so tightly to the point that you feel like your lungs are collapsing, you find excuses for him. For yourself. To make this entire relationship work

Because you love him.

And you don’t not what scares you more anymore. The slight warning in his tone and the ever-present toxicity seeping its way into your originally “perfect” marriage.

Or.

The fact you’ll still stay even if it gets worse.

Why?

Because you love him.

•••

Blade - Forced Proximity.

WHAT’S PLAYING: This is Love - Black Box

There’s blood on the walls, the floors, and even on the couch. Anything you’ve been able to find you’ve smashed onto the ground. Your hands are covered in blood. No worries to Blade though. He sits on the couch covered in the blood of a man. Your eyes flicker to the dead body right in front of you. The now dead man who tried to help you escape from this prison Blade oh so lovingly calls “your” home to no avail.

Blade’s red eyes stare into the distance of space. Perhaps he’s wondering what he should do next for your transgressions. Perhaps he is wondering what he can do to make you smile again. Or maybe, he doesn’t care. Maybe he finds happiness and contentedness in your suffering. After all, a being who is forever stricken by mara might find peace in others' pain.

But.

Past this mara-stricken being is a man who does have some semblance of love for you. Blade knew your every like and dislike. He would trail kisses up your neck and on your lips. You’d joke together. You both were disgustingly domestic at times. At least that’s what appeared. Loving Blade wasn’t difficult when every moment you breathed you were near him.

You wear outfits perfectly fitted to your style sponsored by your self-proclaimed lover himself. Anything you want you’ll get. Jewels, clothing, books, anything you could ever desire. It’s nothing but pocket money for the Stellaron Hunter.

Your mascara has been smudged after all the tears. Your sniffles fill up the room, you look at your palms. Hands covered in scratches and blisters from broken glass and accidental burns. You don’t have to worry though, Blade will patch it all up for you. This situation will fade into the past just like all the others. Your head peaks again at the dismembered and maimed body on the floor. You stop breathing yet again. You shut your eyes and open them once again when you feel a warm breath on your neck.

It’s Blade, you can tell that the mara had warned off him. He tightens his arms around your body and somehow pulls you closer than he ever did before in your “relationship”. You blink once again as a tear rolls down your cheek and pray to any Aeon out there for help. Despite this, you're well aware it’s no use. There’s no place in the universe where Blade won’t find you. So you close your eyes to hum a broken chord as you prepare for the cycle to begin again.

•••

Sunday - Soulmates

WHAT’S PLAYING: Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo

Fairytale love stories where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after were something that you grew up with on your home planet. As you grew up though, “soulmates” left your mind. Other things like making credits and exploring the galaxies were more on your agenda than finding “true love”.

True love was a fairytale. Something that didn’t exist and that’s what you stood by ever since.

Ever since your planet was destroyed by its inhabitants. If people couldn’t love the homes they lived in how could they ever love one another?

You enjoyed travel, you enjoyed learning about other planets, cultures, and people. You didn’t have time for the nonexistent love. Though you enjoyed hearing the stories of it. You’ve met others who found their “soulmates”, their one and only blessed by the Aeons themselves.

On your travel across the world, you stumbled on Penacony, The Planet of Dreams and Entertainment. The perfect and endless days are what brought you in the most. You could be there for days on end but turn out to only spend a couple of hours outside in the “real world”.

Real world huh?

You think you miss the real world a little bit.

“Are the pastries not to your liking love?” Sunday inquires.

“They’re… fine.” You reply.

Sunday smiles. You don’t know what it means though. He smiles at everything, he smiles at gatherings, at your laughter, and even at the tears you desperately try to hold in. He thinks of you as something to be protected, something that should be kept safe in a cage, away from the tainted lies of others.

Everything feels uncomfortable, from the moment you met Sunday you felt an odd gravitational pull towards him. It was truly as if he was your soulmate.

Except,

Something begged you to run away, something deep in the back of your soul. It all went away when you laid eyes on him though.

You wish you listened to your fight AND flight response.

Everything you wear is coordinated by the Head of the Oak Family. From the tiniest detail to your entire personality. Sunday is a firm believer that only the true you can come out behind closed doors, with locks only he has access to. His mansion was the perfect enrichment for a now flightless bird like you.

Perhaps the fairytales were somewhat true. The prince and the princess always seemed to stay forever together.

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solxamber · 2 days ago

Text

Romance Clichés With: Idia Shroud

Cliché: The Dramatic Save

Others: Leona ; Vil ; Azul ; Kalim

The thing about Idia is that he’s very used to lurking in the background. Life is much simpler that way. But ever since you’d started spending more time with him, he’d found himself in the wildest, most "otome game" situations imaginable. And today? Today topped them all.

You’d been standing together in the courtyard, him telling you about his latest game finds, hands shoved into his pockets as he tried not to fidget too much. It was rare he got to hang out with someone he, uh, actually wanted to hang out with, so his nerves were pinging off the charts.

That’s when it happened.

With zero warning, a large, heavy textbook teetered off the edge of a windowsill above and began its rapid descent towards Idia’s head. He didn’t notice; he was too busy stammering about his latest high score. But you did.

In one swift move, you threw yourself across the space between you and practically flew through the air, hands outstretched like some overdramatic action hero.

You managed to get between him and the descending missile (okay, just a textbook, but in the moment, it was deadly), and though the impact wasn’t as dramatic as you’d pictured, you still managed to shield him with your entire being, shoving him safely aside.

By the time he realized what was going on, you were already fussing over him. “Oh my gosh, are you okay?! Did it hit you anywhere?”

He blinked, processing what just happened as you started checking his head for bumps, squinting at his shocked face. “Uh… w-what?” he stammered, brain catching up about three seconds too late. “Did… did you just… jump in front of me?” The look of awe on his face was equal parts adorable and ridiculous.

“Well, obviously!” You laughed, still fussing, hands on his shoulders. “Are you alright?”

Idia’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to process the sheer amount of romance that just smacked him in the face. You, his crush, his dream come to life, had gone full protagonist, for him. It was like the best tropes had all collided in his brain at once, and it was overwhelming in the best way possible.

“N-No one’s ever done something like that… f-for me…” he mumbled, cheeks reddening as he stared at you with this helpless, smitten look.

You tilted your head, a soft smile crossing your face. “Well, I’d do it again if it meant keeping you safe, Idia.”

Somewhere in his brain, the confetti cannons were going off. The “love meter” hit max. The screen flashed “TRUE ENDING” in bold, sparkly letters. He knew it was all real, but a tiny part of him felt like he’d accidentally triggered some hidden route with a secret character, and that character was you.

And before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush. “I think I’m in love with you. Like, maybe have been for a while. You’re like, the one or something, and—oh my god, why am I saying this out loud—”

He clamped a hand over his mouth, wide-eyed, as if he could just take it back if he tried hard enough. But instead, he saw you looking at him, your smile widening as you took his hand, gently pulling it down.

“You mean it?” you asked, a bit of awe creeping into your voice.

He couldn’t look at you, his eyes darting everywhere except your face as he mumbled, “Y-Yeah, I mean, yeah, I do. I can’t believe you’re real, honestly, this feels like a fever dream, but—”

Before he could talk himself out of it, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, quick and sweet. It was enough to short-circuit his brain, and when you pulled back, he just blinked, stunned, frozen like his internal processing unit had just maxed out.

“Does that answer your question?” you teased, unable to hold back a little laugh at his flustered expression.

“Uh-huh,” he finally managed, a dopey smile creeping onto his face as his brain rebooted. “Y-Yeah… yes.” He cleared his throat, trying to seem cooler, but the blush on his cheeks was a dead giveaway.

And as you both stood there, your hands still linked, he felt like the luckiest player in the world—like he’d stumbled upon the rarest, sweetest route of them all, and he wasn’t letting go anytime soon.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x you #idia shroud #twst idia #idia

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witchofhimring · 2 days ago

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Being the daughter of Daemon Targaryen

Daemon x reader (platonic)

I will split this into four different parts depending on who the mother is (Laena, Rhae, Mysaria, Rhaenyra)

Your relationship with Daemon really depends on who your mother is. Although I think he would love his daughter regardless of who the mother is, your relationship will still differ depending on who she is.

Mysaria:

- As his first born you hold a special place in his heart. Daemon keeps you in a mansion with your mother. Despite your bastardy he still has you educated. And anyway, he planned to have you legitimated in time. Unlike with his other wives (except Rhea) there will be a battle between your parents on who has the most influence. Daemon will bring you up to be a true Valyrian. But Mysaria does not agree with everything he does and do the two will argue.

- ‘I will not have my daughter riding those beasts.’ Mysaria stood over Daemon. Although she was not ignorant as to the threat he could pose, Mysaria felt very strongly about her daughter riding a dragon. She had always been a careful woman. Ever since she was a little girl who endured her father’s abuse Mysaria had known how to survive. And when her daughter was born she swore you too would be safe. That meant, for Mysaria; No. Fucking. Dragon. Daemon sat hunched in his chair. He was tired but equally determined. ‘She is a Valyrian. Whatever the circumstances of her birth are.’ Standing in the doorway you watched nervously. You hated listening to your parents fight. Quietly, you slunk into the darkness.

- Unfortunately this will result in Daemon taking you from Mysaria once their relationship is over. This causes a lot of tension and your relationship with him will change. It is hard being away from your mother for so long. Daemon takes you with him wherever he goes. He will try to be more stationary for your benefit. And the word is "try". Life is both tough and fun. Constantly moving around made it hard to make long lasting friends. But Daemon will do fun things such as going to the market, dragon riding and buying items for any hobby you are into. Mysaria finds secret ways to contact you without Daemon's knowledge. You sort of lead a double life with both parents.

-Your mother's most recent letter was quickly slid under the pillow as your bedroom door opened. Your father stepped in holding a wooden box. Curiously you asked what was in the box. Daemon opened it and inside you found cloth and sewing needles. With a smile you took it and went through the materials. Daemon had a small smile on his face as his daughter rummaged through everything. He did not really understand your love of sewing but he was happy to provide the materials.

-You do get a dragon. Daemon lobbies hard for you to have a dragon and for a while Viserys says no. Not because he doesn't think you deserve one but because of your status (this is before you are legitimated). This changes when Rhaenyra had her first born and Daemon will snidely make remarks when Viserys brings up your bastardy. Eventually Viserys relents. Your dragon is called Saephrin, a thin green scaled creature who is called the Sky Snake. He is very fast an nimble. You spent a lot of time in the cave and riding Saephrin. Daemon likes to ride beside you on nice day. The dragons do keep some distance between each other since Caraxes can get a bit snappy around the younger dragon. These outings usually end in picnics and going to far off places.

-Higher and into the sky you climbed. Wind whistled past your ears, wind whipping hair around. Just behind you was Daemon on Caraxes. Above the clouds you flew looking at the ground bellow. The house you lived in had become a simple blip on the ground. The ache in your thighs felt good. Riding on dragon back brought you more satisfaction than anything else. Showing off you father burst up from a sea of clouds, sending white mist everywhere. Despite your vision being temporarily obscured you were not scared. Daemon was an expert dragon rider, you were in no danger. Your dragon let out a wiry cry and you dove. Leaning back you could see the ground bellow you coming nearer. You looked up to find Daemon still circling above. Saephrin then extended his wings and you were shot back into the air. With a whoop of laughter you went to meet him in the sky.

Rhea:

-Daemon would not allow Rhea to raise you. Despite him belief in Valyrian supremacy you are still a Targaryen. He will use his position as a prince to limit contact between Rhea and yourself. This leads to some tension between Daemon and Viserys, who feels your place is in Runestone. In this scenario Daemon is in Runestone more often. There is a back and forth between who has more influence. Daemon will try to distance you from Andal influences and Rhea vise vera. This leaves you feeling constantly torn.

-Their voices echoed down the hall to where you sat alone. By all rights you should be in bed already. If anyone were to find you out there would be trouble. One would think that years of this would harden you to your parents constant fights. 'My daughter will not be taking part in your filthy Valyrian traditions! I am only glad that she has no brother for you to force her to fuck.' You could almost see your fathers reaction in your mind. There was the sound of a physical altercation and you buried yourself deeper into the shadows. You were not sure when the fight ended. Only that your father slunk through the hall and you hardly dared to breath as he walked past. Once you were sure both parents were gone you wandered the halls.

-A dragon egg is given to you by Daemon upon birth. The pearl coloured egg hatches and a light pink dragon is born, named Willow. You grew close to the dragon and liked to bring her into your playroom. Whenever she was separated from you a tantrum resumed on both ends. You could not live without Willow. Your father would becomes a less present figure om your life. For a while life grew slightly easier. At least no parents were fighting. And so a quiet existence descended. Your mother taught you to hunt and command a falcon. By her hand you sat at council meetings. One day you would become Lady of Runestone and command these people. Unlike many other women, even high born ones, you would be permitted to wield power without the say so of a man. When your mother died Daemon came back for you. He tried to take you from Runestone but the lords protested. Swallowing his rage, Daemon would fly between his residences and Runestone. He was more involved now. because of your position Daemon would teach you battle strategy and swordplay. Daemon was determined to make you a proper ruling lady.

-'Block!' Daemon's sword came down from ahead and you only just blocked it. He did not relent with each blow, causing witnesses to shoot mistrusting looks. While Daemon was not being gentle there was a method to this. The world was not kind to women especially women who took the places men more often occupied. You must become strong enough to defend your own. And Daemon had a feeling war was not too far off. Daemon felt Rhea had been a poor teacher. He would not have some docile Andal lily for a daughter. Gods damn it you were a Targaryen. Each strike was used to test your ability. Eventually the sword was knocked aside. 'Dead.' Daemon pointed the sword to your chest. The he heaved you to your feet. 'Good.' Daemon was not one to hand out compliments. But you had done very well and made much progress. You gave him a small smile.

-Once you are older Daemon will have you visit him on Dragonstone. You never knew your first step mother Laena as you were too young to fly to Pentos on dragon back. But by the time he married Rhaenyra you were older and Dragonstone was closer. You would fly in on Willow and spend time with your father and the new editions. Your relationship with Rhaenyra is alright. She had always wanted a daughter but she remembers you are the daughter of Rhea and that always unsettles Rhaenyra. You like Baela and Rhaena well enough. Daemon is happy when you arrive. Even if he has a hard time showing it. As the eldest you are given the most responsibility. He has you informed of the comings and goings of political situation, and you help the Blacks keep ties with house Arryn. He places a lot of trust in you.

-You had come in late that night on Willow. Inwardly groaning with exhaustion you climbed off the dragon and staggered towards the castle. Your father was there to greet you. Nodding in acknowledgment Daemon turned and beckoned you inside. This might have been considered cold for a father, but from Daemon this was "warm", in his way. You followed him inside and he allowed you to quickly wipe down, change and eat. By the fire both of you sat till Daemon deemed you settled in enough. 'How are you unruly men?' He had never taken to the people of Runestone. 'They are just fine father.' You did not like your father talking like this. It made you feel unfaithful to those you lead. 'Good, and the Arryns?' He said this with less skepticism. 'I think if it comes to war they will side with us. Lady Jeyne Arryn was no love for Otto Hightower or his ilk.' 'Good.' He grunted. For a while the pair of you talked of these things until Daemon sent you to bed. As you got up he patted you on you shoulder. 'You've done well.'

Laena:

-You are born a year after Baela and Rhaena in Pentos. At the time Laena and Daemon were traveling Essos so you did not have a permeant home. Despite not living in Westeros at the time you were still a Targaryen, one of only a few. There were already discussions about your future. Daemon preferred for his family to remain in Westeros, perhaps you could marry a Pentoshi prince. Laena on the other hand would rather you marry into Westerosi aristocracy. You, along with your two sisters are brought up to be noblewomen like your mother. On the other hand Daemon is interested in teaching Valyrian ancestry and swordplay. His interest will hinge on how much you are like him. This does not mean Daemon does not love his children. But he does show more interest in his children who are dragon riders. Daemon is largely unaware of the effect it had on his children (i.e. Rhaena). Like your sisters you will get a dragon egg. It eventually hatches, but it takes a while.

-Daemon did not normally feel uncomfortable, especially around his own children. Last week his youngest daughter's dragon had hatched, a small grey think with spikey scales running up its neck. He had been undeniably proud of his daughter. Three years had passed since his now ten year old daughter had received her egg as name-day present from Viserys. Daemon had lost hope that her dragon would hatch. he would check if the two dragon eggs resting in the fireplace had hatched. Now only Rhaena's egg rested there. Y/n was sitting alone by the see with Kaeros on her lap. One day that dragon not be small like a kitten, but larger than any one of them. Daemon took a seat beside her. 'Your dragon hatched.' He felt foolish for posing such a silly question. Y/n would be a dragon rider and carry out the Targaryen traditions. Y/n shrugged her shoulders but said nothing. For a while they awkwardly sat beside one another till Y/n headed in.

-After Laena's death the family headed back to Westeros. Daemon married Rhaenyra and Dragonstone became home. It was very different from the warmth and vibrancy of Pentos. During this time Daemon and you became closer, although some distance remained. Because you were a little older the subject of marriage became prevalent. Daemon is very picky about who your future husband will be, only a Valyrian will be accepted. When your half brothers are born you become closer to Daemon. Sometimes the two of you will play with the children in their nursery.

-Baby Aegon totted on his legs towards you .A few spaces away at your father, newborn Viserys on his lap. 'The babies are staying with us, right?' Daemon looked up from his youngest. 'Of course.' 'Oh. I just thought that you might send them to be fostered with their future betrotheds family.' Daemon looked at you confused. 'What gave you that impression?' Shrugging, you replied; 'Just what your doing with me.' Daemon only looked more bewildered. 'I...we have no intentions sending you away.' Daemon had no idea why you had this idea. What he did not understand was the empty pit widening in your soul. This feeling of loneliness that threatened to devour you. All your life you had felt like an extension of the Targaryen name. You did not realize how deeply your father loved you. While the gap had somewhat lessened over time there were still things left unsaid. Then Daemon, for reasons you did not know, he set Viserys in his crib and got up. In a moment he was by your side. In an unexpected motion Daemon brought you into a hug. Not merely one in greeting or goodbye, but along, warm one. Gently you rested your head on his shoulder.

-As war broke over Westeros the dynamic between Daemon and yourself changed. You were his youngest daughter, too young to fight. He may have pride but even Daemon balked at the idea of sending his youngest, untested daughter into war. In the past few years your relationship improved greatly. The two of you had grown closer. But was would rip the two of you apart, forever.

-It was already unsettling enough to send Baela out to war, and have Rhaena so far away. You were to remain at Dragonstone. Not completely out of loop but not at the front like Baela. It made you taste bitterness. Why could he not see you were ready! Now was the time you should be tested. Your father had gone on and on about Targaryen pride. But here you were as cupbearer. Of course he preferred Baela to you, to Rhaena. As your father got ready to take Harrenhal you were hiding by a window, too angry to speak. At these moments you felt no more than a sulky child. 'Y/n.' Startled, you got up to see your father, fully plated in armor, coming forward. 'I'm heading out.' 'I know.' You replied. Standing there you did not know whether to say goodbye. Silently you feared for him. War was an ugly thing. 'I will send for you when the time comes.' This surprised you. 'Really?' Daemon let the ghost of a smile come across his lips. 'You are my daughter. A Targaryen. You belong with us.' Tears welled up in your eyes. Deep down you think; 'One day I will tell father I love him.' This was the last time you would see your father.

Rhaenyra: (au where Rhaenyra wins the war, Visenya survives and is your older sister)

-Daemon felt rather old when you came into the world. You had been born well after they thought Rhaenyra past childbirth. He was not sure how he felt about this newest edition. Having another child was no bad thing, but he just felt too hold. Although Daemon was still in good health he was no longer a young man. His joints had started to ache from long years of battle. This did mean he spent lots of time with you. He watched his youngest roll around in her cradle. There was some joy to be found in reading to you. This continued as you grew, learning stories of your family and Old Valyria. Soehow this gave Daemon some peace, and the pair of you grew close.

-Daemon was no stranger to fatherhood. As a father of three girls and two boys (not including Rhaenyra's children) this new baby was no surprise. What had struck Daemon was how very old he was. Now in his fifties Daemon found it a bit astounding to be this old and a father. If fact Daemon never though he would reach such an age. Men as reckless as the King Consort rarely lived to see such an age. Yet here we was, older and with knees that already started to ache. In the cradle was his youngest and likely last child. Y/n was fast asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. Daemon was not a sort man, and perhaps not the warmest father. But he did love his children. One finger reached in and the baby's hand shot out. With all her little might Y/n grasped him. her wide eyes met his and she gave him a toothless grin. Something warm stirred in daemon's head. "I'm becoming a sort old fool.' Daemon thought.

-Daemon read by the fire as you dozed off in bed. This was your favourite part of the day. When night had fallen and you listened to his soft voice lull you to sleep. Tonight he read of Queen Rhaenys, second wife to King Aegon. Even though your mother and sister preferred Queen Visenya you always admired Rhaenys's love for the arts. Out of all her siblings Rhaenys loved her dragon Meraxes best. You had named your own dragon after hers. Mother has tried to talk you out of it but to no avail. Your father continued to read stories of Targaryens long gone.

-'This one." You demanded. It was the end of the day and Daemon had come up to read. Already you were in bed with a book one your lap. Daemon was pleased to see it was about House Targaryens, the best house in all the realm (totally not a biased opinion). Sitting down Daemon picked up the book and flipped to chapter one. 'Not there.' You passed several chapters until landing on the one titled "Queen Rhaenys". Aegon the Conqueror's second wife had never truly captured his attention, not that he had anything against her. But you were his little girl and Daemon was more willing to capitulate in his older ager.

-Despite his advanced age Daemon will expect you to be well educated. The best teachers will be found. You will learn history, Valyrian, astronomy, philosophy, writing and much more. He sees no reason for you being female as a reason a child of his should not be well read. You share classes with Visenya and sometimes Viserys and Aegon. Sometimes Daemon will ask you to show him what you have learned. His interests mainly lye in Valyrian history so he will ask you to show him what it is you have learned. When all his daily duties are finished Daemon will sometimes listen to you talk about everything you have read that day. Even if it is not things he is particularly interested in. As he gets older Daemon becomes more sentimental and focuses more on his family.

-A quiet afternoon was upon Kings Landing. Daemon had just gotten out of a long meeting and was glad for it. he was sore all over from sitting so long and walked, alone, to take the edge off. His walking did have an aim. Y/n, his youngest, would be out of the schoolroom by now. Loneliness was not a feeling Daemon was well acquainted with. But with Rhaenyra gone to the North and Visenya being a ward of House Baratheon, Daemon found himself lacking family members. Jacaerys and Baela had gone on tour in the West, Rhaena gone to see her Arryn friends. The other children were being wards elsewhere. daemon finally arrived outside the schoolroom. he remembered days when he and Viserys were sometimes tutored here. Just as he arrived Y/n burst out. 'Daddy!' Y/n gave her father a great hug. Daemon ruffled her messy hair before inquiring what she had learned today. As she chattered away they found themselves in the courtyard. Under the Weirwood they sat together. Sunlight beat down upon them, Daemon finally relaxed.

#daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daughter reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x reader imagine #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon

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kitzenvoncatzen · 9 hours ago

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It was very obviously not meant to be a shrine. It just happened to be mostly symmetrical and with an offering of one Chicken Strip Combo Meal from the chicken place.

I should describe the actual requirements for the shrine that I made.

It needs 2 crystals, one on either side of the offering, and a collection of glass pillars behind the offering, and a bunch of other tiny less important things that I happened to have a bunch of. Like bottle caps and wrappers that just happened to fit the requirements.

I was sitting down at my computer with a good meal I just bought with my own money and I was about to watch the newest episode of the stupid game show.

The rest of my floor isn't actually better than the table that only had room for the "offering".

The "crystals" were literally just rocks that I thought looked cool and stole them because I like having rocks for some reason. They apparently have crystals inside of them. Both of them. The glass pillars are empty soda bottles. (I like glass bottled soda a lot more.)

There are other gods that might answer to their own offering rituals, but this one was the only one that would actually answer to a Chicken Strip Combo Meal. The rest want much more to actually be contacted.

I'm a full 5 minutes into the show before I actually reach for my food. Which is gone.

I look around and immediately find some guy in full bright face paint and cool jagged symbols in my room, standing behind me, watching the show with me.

My first instinct is to punch him in the face. (I definitely would have recognized any of the other gods.)

It feels like hitting a rock wall.

"So I assume this wasn't intentional. About what I expected, actually." He speaks, the voice doesn't really match the figure standing before me.

"WHAT??" I shout. I look at my hand. Punching was actually a horrible idea because of the small scrape on my finger that got slightly more scraped.

"I can explain more later but right now I need your help. There are some things only mortals can do." He grabs my arm, and light surrounds us. A similar thing happens when other gods return to wherever they come from, but I was experiencing it from inside, in person, and it was slightly different. I couldn't tell if that's just how it is when you're inside it, or if the shade of the light was actually slightly different to the videos I've seen, but it seemed a bit weird compared to them.

"WHAT? WHERE ARE WE?" I shout again. He immediately covers my mouth with his equally cold, stony hands. (Which isn't actually as good at muffling speech as flesh is. I think. I can't bite through it like flesh though.)

"Gods fight all the time, but only mortals can actually kill gods." He whispers. The trees around us are completely still, and even the strong wind does not move a single leaf on them. They all appear to be made of some kind of stone, like he was.

"What does this have to do with me?" I whisper, still muffled by the hand. I had already accepted my most likely fate, death, which is usually the fate of people who get this involved with the gods without any good preparation. "No, wait, you're not saying..."

"I need you to kill a god."

[ Yeah

I did another one.

It's been a while. ]

{Check out my other things at this site please I need feedback.}

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing

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bunnis-monsters · 2 hours ago

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NSFW

warning: teasing, prey and predator play

A/N: this is a kofi request~

As if being mated to a kitsune wasn’t hard enough, he had recently started playing tricks on you almost daily. Before you could handle the occasionally missing sock or jumpscare, but now he was practically bullying you.

When your kitsune wanted something, he always lowered his head and settled his nose on your knee, looking up through his eyelashes. Even though you were getting irritated with his mischievous behavior, you still loved the guy.

“Are you upset with me?” he asked, nosing your knee gently. “I’m just playing around… it’s boring being cooped up in here…”

You sighed, knowing he wasn’t wrong. There had been a sudden blizzard, leaving the two of you trapped in your small cabin by the woods for the time being.

“… I know. It’s just… it gets a bit annoying being nipped at and chased. I know you have a lot of energy, but-“

His attention was suddenly drawn away from the conversation, and he nearly leaped towards the window. There was a bird outside, and now that’s all he could think about.

You huffed, whining at him as he bolted to the window to scratch at it, his orange tail swaying behind him.

“You’re impossible…”

Though some would assume your mate was scatterbrained, he was actually quite clever. The tricks he played on you required him to be cunning and intelligent, and oftentimes you could never guess what he was going to do next.

Sometimes he enjoyed chasing you. He got the zoomies often, nearly bouncing off the walls as he gave chase. It was scary, yet strangely arousing to see him treat you like prey.

“Little bunny~”

He often called you that when he was feeling mischievous. Deciding to get it over with, you rolled your eyes and walked towards the bedroom.

He was completely bare, cock erect and twitching slightly as he nearly purred at the sight of you.

“I’ve missed you…”

“Y-you just saw me- wait, why are you naked!?”

He chuckled, crawling across the comforter, his tail swaying behind him as he reached you at the foot of the bed.

“All these questions… aren’t you pent up? You know, us kitsunes know a lot about the human body…”

He ran a finger down your side, making you shiver. His claw barely scraped your sensitive skin. “Mmm… you know, if I didn’t love you so much I’d just… devour you whole~”

He leaned forward to brush his sharp teeth against your neck. You could feel his cock press against your belly, the tip dripping precum. “… teasing me…”

A smile stretched out across his face, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. “Am I? Mmm, I don’t think I am. Maybe you’re just… a sensitive little thing. Most humans are…”

He bit down on your neck, causing you let let out a yelp of pain. His tongue lapped up your blood, his eyes narrowed as he groaned. “God… you make it so difficult, darling. Every woman I’ve ever met has ended up eaten by me… but now I’ve formed a mating bond with you…”

His fox ears twitched as he purred, pulling you into his lap so his tip could rub against your clothed cunt. “Pretty thing, making me so soft for you… oh, how excited I get when I chase you…”

Suddenly, he was pinning you down, letting out a yip as you struggled and squirmed. He loved watching you struggle like a helpless bunny beneath him.

Like prey.

“That’s it…” he murmured, keeping your wrists pinned above you with one hand as the other pulled off your panties.

“Keep struggling…”

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, cooing in a teasing manner as you whined. “Someone is being a needy little thing. You want more, hmm?”

You lip wobbled, and you lifted your hips to press into his hand, desperate for him. “Please…”

He purred at the sight of your desperation, pushing his cock into you without warning. His thrusts were fast and unforgiving, his fluffy orange tail swaying behind him.

You could only whimper and moan, squirming beneath him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, princess? You wanted to be fucked like the helpless little prey you are, didn’t you? Can’t even talk…”

He pressed kisses into your neck as you came around him, milking his cock. The kitsune quite enjoyed teasing you, but after planting his seed in your belly, he always became incredibly soft.

“Sweet thing…” he murmured, kissing at the bites he left along your neck and shoulders. “You know I’d never eat you, right? You may be sweet, but I prefer to enjoy your taste through… different means…”

To repay all the reading, he dipped his head between your legs to lap up your juices and his cum. It all mixed together, and watching him taste his own cum was pretty hot.

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko

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moonlitwitchdaisy · 1 day ago

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need a bigger size

✰ summary: you’re six months pregnant and calling your husband to help you put on the jeans you just can’t seem to wear right now.

✰ warnings: MDNI!! satoru gojo x fem reader, pregnant reader, soon to be dad satoru, mentioning of sex

✰ a little note: i apologize for it being a bit short. i hope you like it. also, you can tell that i wrote this during my ovulation.

“Ugh… please, please fit. I really don’t want to buy another pair of pants.”

The sixth month of your pregnancy hadn’t exactly been a breeze. Your belly was getting bigger, and the clothes you bought just two weeks ago were barely fitting. Could a person really gain this much weight in two weeks?

As you struggled to pull your jeans up over your hips, you were truly at your limit. Moments like this made you question why you were pregnant in the first place. A simple act of getting dressed had turned into a sweaty, intense battle. You had no choice but to play your last card.

“Satoruuu! Can you come here for a second, please?”

As you kept struggling with your jeans, you heard footsteps approaching the bedroom. You looked miserably toward the door, seeing your husband with his perfect, well-kept hair standing there, giving you an amused look. You, on the other hand, had sweat-plastered hair sticking to every part of your face.

“I didn’t know you wanted to have a quick fuck so bad before we went shopping.”

Your husband was truly straightforward. But right now, more than a quick fuck, you needed to fit into these $70 jeans.

“How on earth did you think I wanted that?”

While leaning against the doorframe, Satoru walked over and stood in front of your struggling body.

“First, you’re trying to take off your pants. Second, you’ve been moaning for the past five minutes and—”

“OH MY GOD NO! I’VE JUST BEEN TRYING TO PUT ON THESE DAMN JEANS FOR THE PAST HALF HOUR, SATORU.”

The mischievous grin on your husband’s face instantly transformed into disappointment. Did he really not realize you were just trying to put on your jeans?

“So, the moans that I could hear all the way in the living room were just because of your jeans?” He sounded so genuinely let down that, as mad as you were, you felt a bit sorry for him.

“FINALLY, YOU GET IT.”

Your husband went into defense mode. “Hey, calm down, wifey. As your husband, who’s constantly thinking about wanting you, of course I’d think that way.”

“Gosh I’m so sorry. Pregnancy is really making me so irritable.” You hadn’t even realized you were yelling, and it upset you to treat the person you loved most in the world this way. All the blame lay on these cursed jeans, which had fit just fine two weeks ago.

A sweet smile appeared on Satoru’s face as he cupped your face and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “Never apologize to me. Alright, then, let’s get these jeans on you and head out shopping!”

Satoru moved behind you and took hold of the jeans stuck just below your hips. “Okay, this might be a bit tough, but take a deep breath, baby.”

Listening to him, you took a deep breath and allowed him to work the jeans over your hips. After a few challenging minutes, he’d finally managed to help you get them on.

“You might actually be the strongest, Satoru.” As you buttoned your jeans, he moved to stand in front of you again.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m always the strongest for you and our babygirl.”

After managing to fasten the buttons, you threw your arms around his neck with a triumphant smile. “I should have stopped you from getting me pregnant that night. Being pregnant is seriously tough. I bought these jeans just two weeks ago, and now they barely go over my ass”

“You’re the one who said you’d kill me if I didn’t get you pregnant that night, wifey. Besides,” he paused for a moment and placed his hands on your full hips, giving them both a firm squeeze, “if I’d known these amazing things would be this big, I would’ve gotten you pregnant the day I first saw you.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, giving him a quick peck on the lips before turning around to grab the shirt you’d left on the bed. “Let me just put on this shirt real quick and we-”

The sound of ripping made you freeze, and your hands instinctively reached to feel the tear right where your backside was. Your jeans had split straight down the middle.

“Shit, shit, shit… GOD, I PAID 70 DOLLARS FOR THESE DAMN JEANS!” You cursed angrily at them, glancing at the rip in the mirror. Your husband, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, was happily staring at the split right in the center of your backside.

“I guess this might be a sign that I should fuck you before we go shopping.”

Yeah, it really was, because after he finished speaking, he started kissing you hungrily. Later that day, while out shopping for baby items, you ended up buying a new pair of jeans. You just hoped they wouldn’t tear from the back after wearing them.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

#jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk satoru

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janeyseymour · 9 hours ago

Text

I Hate You, I Love You- part 4

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Summary: Christmas Eve with your family leads you to have a certain revelation.

WC: ~2.5k

You and your ‘girlfriend’ make it down the steps with your fingers interlaced, and you seriously hate the way that it makes you feel things that you know you shouldn’t be feeling for Melissa. You hate her- or you’re supposed to. No, you do. You have to. You always have, and you always will.

Still, you walk down the steps with a practiced ease. Nobody is here yet though, so you take a spot on the couch with your dad while Melissa opts to kiss your cheek and let you know that she’s going to see if there’s any last minute jobs in the kitchen. Your eyes once again linger on the red haired woman’s hips as she makes her way into the kitchen.

Your father coughs awkwardly to gain your attention.

“Hm?”

“Kid, you really have it bad for her, don’t you?” your dad chuckles.

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” he leans over and wraps an arm around you. You can’t but lean into his embrace. “I haven’t seen anyone look at you like that, and I haven’t seen you look at anyone the way you do Melissa since…”

“Since Todd,” you whisper. Your dad nods silently. You look to him with vulnerable eyes. “She’s… she’s something alright.”

“In the best ways, yes?” your father prompts quietly.

You just nod, and then your ‘girlfriend’ is making her way into the room, yet another glass of wine in hand for you. She settles in next to you on the couch, drapes an arm around you, and rests her head on your shoulder.

“Mom didn’t have anything for you to do in there?” you ask her quietly as you kiss red hair.

“Her and Jo are flying around like chickens with their heads cut off in there. I figured I would be more of a hindrance than a help,” Melissa chuckles softly.

It’s a bit later that your family comes in, and you’re forced to introduce Melissa as your girlfriend to everyone there. She smiles and shakes hands, works her charm, and you can tell that your family is loving having the redhead there. You’re given quite a few impressive hums and thumbs ups as your family makes their way in. The redhead stays close to you as your family members come in. Her hand is always on some part of your body, whether that be on your back, your shoulder, or your hands are entwined. You don’t hate it.

Light conversation is made, just pleasantries and catching up on life at first as everyone makes their way in. You don’t engage much, trying to keep Melissa in the loop with who is who.

But then you settle in for dinner, Melissa on your right, and most eyes turn to you.

“What?” you ask with a raised brow. “Is there something you all know that I don’t?”

Your Uncle Ron laughs. “Kid, I think it’s that you know something the rest of us don’t.” When you give him a blank stare in return, he gestures to Melissa.

“I already introduced you all to her,” you roll your eyes. “This is Melissa, my girlfriend.”

“And?” you Aunt Betty prompts. “How did you meet? When did you realize you two had a thing for each other? How long have the two of you been dating? You know, other stuff like that?”

“Am I being interrogated?” you question with a brow raised, the other furrowed. When your family just continues to look at you with bated breath, you huff out, “You guys are ridiculous.”

Melissa playfully rolls her eyes and sets a gentle hand on your knee. “C’mon, babe. If you won’t tell ‘em, I will.”

Both of your eyebrows creep up your forehead, and you gesture for her to continue. “Be my guest, hun.”

So Melissa takes a breath and begins. “I started workin’ at Abbott a while ago… longer ago than I really care t’admit. An’ I really only had a couple of friends at work. Nobody really seemed worthy of getting to know. Until… Y/N. I usually hate newbies, and I wasn’t willing to make an exception for my new grade level partner, but there was something about her. Something in the way that she stood up for what she thought was right, the way she speaks to the children and holds them to the highest expectations while still providing them with unconditional love and care. Somehow, Y/N wormed her way into my heart- as a professional. And then slowly, as she started to let more of herself shine through, I found myself entranced with her.” Green eyes are trained on you, and you can see the amount of love she has for you- fake love. “I found myself slowly fallin’ for her.”

She presses a soft kiss to your cheek, and you have to cough awkwardly to let out the gasp that your body wants to release. She said those words in such a convincing way that you almost believe her. Unbeknownst to you, her words are genuine.

“And when did the two of you finally get your heads out of your asses and start dating?” your father asks.

“It took a while, but I broke down her walls, walls I would usually have up myself. But we’ve been dating since almost the beginning of this school year when I finally just made a move, and I haven’t been happier,” Melissa tells your family as she continues to look at you in a lovesick way. “I ain’t lettin’ her go any time soon.”

The blush in your cheeks is clear now. You smile and press a quick kiss to her lips before sighing. “Enough about us though.” And then you turn your attention to your cousin and her new job.

Melissa insists on helping clean up dinner and bring out desserts. Of course she does, because she’s the perfect fake girlfriend. Maybe she isn’t though, because that means that you’re obligated to help. You don’t do much- you never do much to help clean up after a day of cooking. So instead, you keep your arms around your ‘girlfriend’s’ waist and rest your chin on her back. Every so often, you’ll kiss her shoulder blade or detach yourself briefly to take a sip of the sangria she had poured for you.

Before you can even think about going to the dessert table for the two of you, the redhead has taken it upon herself to make you up a plate, and she takes some for herself. She knows that you prefer to have tea with your dessert as opposed to coffee that is normally offered. Melissa saunters over to the teapot and fills it with hot water for you. In no time flat do you have your favorite desserts and a warm mug of chai tea to warm your already soothed soul.

But then everything is cleaned, desserts are handed out to the rest of your family, and you’re settling on the couch again. Melissa sits first, and then she practically tugs you into her lap. It’s warm, it’s cozy. You can’t deny that your bodies fit together well.

She seamlessly places herself into your family, and you hate it. You hate the fact that she knows just what to say and do to win over your family. You hate that she’s warm and loving, and she’s being the exact opposite of the woman you know. You sit quietly with her as she jokes with your cousins, completely lost in thought. There was something about the way that your father told you that you had it bad for the redhead next to you and the looks that she was giving you at dinner. Your whole body tenses as you realize: you just might be falling for this side of Melissa.

“Hun?” the redhead furrows her brow and turns to you, concerned. “You okay?”

Of course she would notice the rigidness in your body. You blink a few times before putting on that practiced easy smile of yours. “Yeah, just got a chill.”

“I can fix that.” Your colleague shifts you off of her slightly before standing and fetching a blanket from the bin. She settles back into the cushions before draping the throw over the two of you. For good measure, she pulls you in close, wrapping her arms around you, and kisses your head. “Can’t have my girl cold, now can I?”

Your favorite cousin just glances at you with a smirk, and then she looks at Melissa and makes a whip noise. Your ‘girlfriend’ scoffs, but she presses another kiss to your head as you rest it on her shoulder.

It’s a long while before you finally decide that you need some sleep. Christmas morning may be a lazy morning in your house, but it’s always an early morning.

With a soft sigh, you turn to the redhead next to you. “You about ready to head up?”

“Yeah, if you are,” she mumbles into your hair.

The two of you climb the steps, and you’re oddly quiet as you prepare for bed. Once all of your makeup is washed away and you’re changed, Melissa is already in bed with her glasses on the tip of her nose and scrolling through her phone.

You crawl under the covers and sigh deeply.

“Penny for your thoughts?” your colleague asks you softly.

You hum. You can’t tell her that your mind is whirling with thoughts of how you may actually be falling for this side of her- not the real Melissa, but this fake Melissa that she’s come up with for this elaborate lie of yours. “Just tired. Today was a lot.”

“Yeah,” the redhead chuckles. “But your family is real nice, and I think they believe we’re together.”

You just nod and turn on your side facing away from her. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” Melissa tells you. You don’t see the way that she looks at you longingly. You don’t see the way that her eyes go soft as she glances at you laying in bed next to her, how her green orbs clearly convey that she wants to wrap her arms around you and hold you tight the way that she has been all night. No, your back is turned to her as your mind goes a mile a minute thinking about what you think you may be feeling.

You feel the redhead shift to lay down in the bed a few minutes later, and the glow of her phone disappears as she sets it on the nightstand. A couple seconds later you hear her glasses being folded and deposited next to her phone.

Melissa lays down in the bed on her side, but she’s facing you. It’s not her fault, that’s just how she’s always slept- on her right side. And it’s not like you know she’s facing you. It takes everything in her to not cozy up behind you and pull you against her. Instead, she closes her eyes and hopes that she doesn’t snore tonight.

When you’re certain the redhead beside you is asleep, breathing evenly, you turn as gently as you can in the bed to face her. She’s… she’s beautiful. She looks so at peace. There’s a lot of things you can say about Melissa Schemmenti, but unattractive is not one of those things. In this moment, you can allow yourself to daydream about what a life with this version of Melissa might be like- she’s treated you like a princess since getting to your parents’ house, a far cry from how she acts around you at Abbott.

As you drift off to sleep, the cliched sugar plum fairies don’t dance around in your head. No, instead you dream of what you think might be an ordinary day with Melissa in your life as your partner, and not just your fake one.

The two of you share a wonderful, homemade breakfast together in her house, she drives you to work, kisses are stolen in the break room and in the classroom. And while she still has the edge to her that Miss Schemmenti has, there’s still that sparkle of the warmth that she’s shown you she has outside of work. You find that when she makes a snarky comment in your dream, you don’t hate it. You don’t even dislike it. You can hear yourself chuckling in your dream. That image blurs into another, and you’re just laying on the couch. A shimmer catches your eye as you lay on her, hand resting on her collarbone. There’s a sparkling ring set on your finger. When you look down, there’s a matching one on her own left hand. You hear a baby crying from just up the way, and you sigh.

Melissa just buries a kiss in your hair. “I got it if she doesn’t settle in the next five minutes.” When the crying doesn’t stop, your… is she your wife now in this dream? Your wife shimmies you off of her and heads up the steps. A few moments later, she returns with a little girl in her arms, one that is a spitting image of you.

“Oh honey,” you instinctively reach for the two year old, at least that’s where you would estimate she is in age.

“Baby girl just wanted Momma,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “Never Ma, always Momma, ain’t that right, Sara?”

The little girl just gives a toothy grin as she lays her head on your shoulders.

You sit upright in the bed as your dream jolts you awake. Your heart is racing. Why were you married to Melissa? Why did you have a child together? What the fuck? The redhead beside you doesn’t so much as stir, still fast asleep. The breath is taken from your lungs as you realize: you’re actually falling for Melissa Schemmenti.

When you wake up for the second time that day, you once again wake with a jolt. Your arms are wound around Melissa’s waist, your face is buried in her chest, your limbs are intertwined with hers. Her arm is slung over your own body.

The woman next to you just groans and pulls you closer. You can’t deny that she’s warm. You can’t deny that you don’t hate waking up like this. It’s comfortable, and you don’t wake up freezing your ass off for once.

“Lis,” you mumble.

“Shut up, and go back to sleep,” she grumbles. She buries a kiss in your hair. Okay, you know she’s still half asleep. She wouldn’t do that if she was fully awake and it was just the two of you. And while her telling you to shut up would normally infuriate you to no end, you don’t seem to mind this time. You settle back into her hold with a soft sigh and allow your eyes to flutter shut again. Christmas morning and presents can wait if it means you'll get some extra time in the warmth of your colleague.

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