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willowsnook · 2 months ago

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Let me in

Hi! Love your idea for a prompt list. Can I order: A turkey swiss on wheat bread, maybe mike’s way if you feel like it’s fitting for the sandwich?

Joe burrow x bsf!reader

Please don’t leave

—-----------------------------------------

Fall in Cincinnati was something that you loved. The trees changed colors, you could start leaving your windows open, and, of course, Bengals football. Now, you’d never claim that you were a die-hard fan, that was still reserved for your beloved Green Bay Packers, but after 5 years in the city, they were a solid 2nd favorite. Plus, being good friends with the starting quarterback meant you had to root for them.

You met Joe at a charity event a year after you moved to Ohio. Working for a Cincinnati-specific lifestyle magazine, your recommendations and reviews had made you quite well known in the city. Your strategy was always finding small, hidden gem places, usually family-owned, to review and elevate. This fulfilled your need to make a difference and also get paid to eat food.

While your job was so public and in the spotlight, you were pretty introverted, which surprised a lot of people. You didn’t necessarily enjoy being the center of attention, focusing more on making those around you shine. This meant that while you were appreciative of being recognized by the community, you hated going to big events; you’d much rather just be writing about them.

So when the introverted star of Cincinnati joined you in the shadows of an event, the two of you hit it off. Knowing who you were, his PR team had noticed and pitched a content series involving Joe. You spent a whole day with him, going to places he recommended and giving instant reviews. Initially, you were worried about it being awkward because you didn’t know him well, but you both had a blast. Joe was easy to talk to, and he liked that you treated him like anyone else.

After that, he’d invited you to hang out with his friends several times, and Ja’marr really liked you, insisting that you be added to the friend group. Since then, you’d spent the last couple of years being forced to go to every home Bengals game, but you could also easily force one of them to help you with some kind of content for work. A mutually beneficial friendship you thought.

Midway through the week, you were back at your apartment, taking pictures of some cookies someone sent you to be considered for an upcoming article you were writing. You snapped the perfect picture just as your phone rang, and you looked over to see it was Joe calling.

“What’s up?” You said, putting the phone on speaker.

“I’m bored. Can I come hang?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m doing some work, but I’ll be done soon.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

You were used to Joe calling you randomly to hang out, especially when the season was going poorly. One thing you learned in your years of friendship with him was that he didn’t like to be alone, mostly so he didn’t spiral thinking about everything. You were happy to be a friend he could lean on.

15 minutes later, you heard your front door open and smiled as Joe wandered into the kitchen. He gave you a small squeeze from behind as you leaned over your laptop.

“Are you doing anything with these?” He asked, and you looked over at the cookies.

“No, I just got done. Have at it,” you replied, amused as he shoveled one into his mouth.

“These are pretty good,” he said, swallowing. “But I’ve had better.”

“Hmm,” you thought. “What don’t you like about them?”

“Too grainy,” he said, and you agreed, unable to think of what you were feeling.

“That’s a good point; I’m using that,” you said, typing it down in your notes.

“Watch out, I’m going to steal your job,” he joked, and you smirked.

“Does that mean I get yours?”

“You’d probably do a better job than me right now,” he said, and you frowned, shutting your laptop.

“You are still a superstar, even when you lose,” you told him earnestly, getting a small smile from him.

“I think I need you with a headset on to tell me that during the games,” he said, and you laughed.

“Yeah yeah,” you replied, blushing. “Want to take a walk or something? I need to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of you walked down the street and ventured towards the water, chatting about upcoming events and his family coming to visit. You started to get chilly and held your arms briefly before Joe noticed. He pulled his hoodie off with one hand and handed it to you, not even stopping what he was saying. You pulled it on, inhaled the lingering cologne, and sighed.

“Will you come to dinner with us tomorrow night?” he asked, jolting you back to reality.

“With your parents?” you asked, and he nodded. “Would that not be a little weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”

“I don't know. I just wouldn’t want them to think we were dating or anything,” you said, confused. Joe frowned at that, but you didn’t have time to analyze it.

“Ja’marr is coming too,” he said. “You are both my best friends, so I’d like you to meet them.”

“Okay, if it’s important to you,” you agreed, giving in. Dinner with Joe’s parents. Huh. Sometimes you really didn’t understand why he chose you as a best friend when many people were fighting over it. If only people knew how clingy Mr. Cool was.

—---------------------------------------------------

Ja’Marr picked you up from your place the next night and the two of you headed to dinner.

“You look nice,” he commented, and you smiled. You and Ja’Marr had a flirty relationship, but nothing had ever come of it. One time, when you were both very drunk in the offseason, you had made out but it didn’t last long with him backing out, saying that Joe was going to kill him. You had just assumed that Joe didn’t want anyone in the friend group dating in case it got messy, which was understandable. With Ja’marr, you were mostly just attracted to him vs. wanting something more.

“I still feel weird about this whole thing,” you admitted to him and he gave you a lazy smirk.

“Please, they’ll love you,” he assured you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about; I’m amazing,” you said, causing him to laugh. “I just think it’s weird and intimate. Like if my parents were in town, yeah, maybe I wouldn’t mind them meeting you guys at the game or to celebrate in a group after. But I wouldn’t invite you for a small dinner.”

Ja’Marr gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before laughing to himself.

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” he said and you rolled your eyes.

The restaurant was a nicer one that you had been to before for work. Joe’s parents stood up as you approached the table and warmly greeted you. His mom pulled you into a tight hug, laughing about how excited she was to meet you finally. You shot Ja’Marr a look and found him trying not to laugh. You could tell Joe was embarrassed, which made the situation a little amusing.

Sitting down beside him, he gave you an easy smile while handing you the drink menu. Joe’s dad jumped into conversation with Ja’Marr about the season while Robin asked you a ton of questions about your job and basically your whole life. You ended up loving his parents; they were the sweetest people. While you might have missed the way that Joe was looking at you the whole dinner, his parents definitely did not.

“It was so good to meet you y/n,” Robin gushed. “I’m sure we’ll see much more of you in the future.”

You smiled, confused, while Ja’Marr couldn’t hold back his laugh. Joe’s face turned bright red and his dad chuckled.

—------------------------------------------------

If you had thought the season was going poorly before it was a million times worse now. It seemed like each week, your two friends were putting up superstar numbers but still losing. After watching them lose by just a point to the Ravens, you clicked the TV off and sighed. Reaching for your phone you texted him a white heart and watched him read it and not reply. He usually would, even after a loss, but this one was tough so you didn’t pay much mind to it.

As the week went on, you started to feel Joe’s tension about the team bleed into your friendship. He wasn’t answering your calls and had replied to any text you had sent him with just one word. What had really pissed you off though, was that he was supposed to shoot a Thanksgiving promo with you about places that provided free food for those who needed it and he didn’t show.

“I get that you’re having a tough time right now and while I can live with you being a bad friend I can’t live with you 1. making me look bad professionally and 2. disappointing people making a difference. So give me a call when you figure your shit out,” you ranted to his voicemail.

You were supposed to fly out for the game this weekend but weren’t sure if you still should. Calling Ja’Marr, you complained about Joe being a dick and that you didn’t know what to do. He assured you that you should still come and that Joe was just hurting because of the season. The best thing you could do was be there for him, even in the shadows.

The game started out horribly with it being 24-6 leading into halftime. But a different team came out in the third quarter, and you went crazy as the Bengals got ahead. But like the week before, no matter what Joe did, even throwing for over 350 yards, they still lost in the end. You lingered by the locker room after the game and smiled sadly as you saw Ja’Marr first. He wrapped you in a hug, and he was happy to have you there. Joe on the other hand, did not look happy to see you.

“What are you doing here?” he said coldly, and both you and Ja’Marr flinched. His teammate gave him a weird look, but Joe was just staring at you blankly.

“I’ve had these tickets since before the season, you know that,” you replied.

“I didn’t want you to come,” he said and you tried to ignore the hurt you felt. “Did you not get the hint from me ignoring you all week?”

“Oh, so is that why you stood up the charity?” You bit back. “So that I would ‘get the hint’?”

Joe didn’t say anything, clenching his jaw and Ja’Marr tried to step in.

“I wanted her to come man,” he said and Joe snapped his head towards his friend.

“Well just fuck her then and get over it,” he replied and your jaw dropped. Ja”Marr shoved him backward, yelling at him before security intervened. You recovered from your shock and turned around, abruptly leaving the stadium. You called an Uber to take you back to the hotel, and the massive traffic gave you a lot of time to process what had just happened.

You could understand him being upset over the game, especially since it was so fresh in his mind. But it’s not like you went up to him; he came up to you. This man was supposed to be your best friend, and he basically just called you a whore to your face. This shit was ridiculous.

30 minutes later, you were walking into the hotel. Ja’Marr had tried calling, but you declined. You called the airline you were flying with to see if there was any chance of flying out early, and you were lucky to snag a seat on the last flight out. You quickly packed up your stuff after changing into a comfier outfit and headed down to the lobby to check out and call a car.

Turning to head out the door you stopped as you saw Joe walking in, his eyes trained on you. He looked miserable and he made his way towards you slowly.

“Y/n..” he started, his eyes filling up with tears, but you stopped him from saying anything else.

“I’m leaving,” you said emotionlessly. He tried to reach out to you, but you flinched back and pain flashed across his face.

“I need to talk to you y/n,” he begged. “Please don’t leave.”

“Why would I stay?” You asked softly. “Goodbye, Joe.”

You left him standing there wondering why it felt like your own heart was breaking into two.

—-----------------------------------------------

It had been two weeks since then, and you had successfully avoided Joe at all costs. He blew up your phone of course but you have yet to answer. Luckily he hadn’t tried coming to your apartment because he knew you well enough to know that it’d piss you off.

You were on your way to hang out with Ja’Marr for a group movie night which he promised you that Joe would not be at. You don’t know why you even believed him; Joe’s car was parked in the front driveway and you almost reversed until you saw Ja’Marr waving his arms at you. Stepping out, you crossed your arms, waiting for him.

“I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew he was here,” he started and you scoffed.

“You were right.”

“I am miserable because he is y/n,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry but I will be selfish for a minute. He is being a dick at practice to everyone and isn’t throwing me good balls. He’s moody, won’t say a word to me, and won’t leave his house unless necessary. So please let him make it up to you. You two belong together.”

“He called me a whore Ja’Marr!” You exclaimed frustrated and gave you a sympathetic look.

“I know he did, and that was terrible. I tried to fight him on your behalf,” he said, earning a small smile from you. “God I shouldn’t tell you this but he’s so in love with you it’s insane. He’s hurting and you’re hurting. Please just talk to him.”

“He’s not in love with me,” you said and he just rolled his eyes.

“Believe what you want but get in there,” he said steering you towards the door.

The good thing was that there were a few other people here from your friend group, so technically, you didn’t even have to talk to him. He was the first person you saw when you walked in so clearly, this was a coordinated effort between the two friends.

Joe did look sad, and you wanted to be happy about it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. He was dressed down in grey sweats and a black T-shirt, his hair looking like he had run his hands through it over and over. His eyes were puffy, and that made your heart clench.

“Are we ready to start?” One of your other friends called from the living room and you started to walk towards the room but Joe gently grabbed you, pulling you closer to him and letting Ja’Marr pass.

“Can we talk?” He mumbled quietly to you and you nodded, letting him pull you into the study. You stood with your arms crossed as you looked at him, waiting.

“I’m sorry y/n. I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I was hurting so bad and I took it out on you. The one person who has always been there for me.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it Joe,” you said, frustrated. “It’s not like it was just the comment; it was the week leading up to it, missing the event. I can’t be there for you when you don’t let me in.”

You had imagined how this conversation would go multiple times over the past few weeks. You expected an apology and another apology, but you did not expect Joe Burrow to start sobbing in front of you.

He sunk against the wall and had his head in his hands while he was crying. Your shock wore off, and you knelt down in front of him, moving in between his legs. He looked up and your heart broke at his tear-stained face.

“What is going on, Joe?” You asked softly, wiping some of his tears with your thumb.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “Everything is going wrong, and I don’t feel like I’m in control. I do everything I can, and it’s still not enough.”

“Oh Joey,” you murmured, pulling his head into your shoulders. He held on to you tightly as he cried and you ran your hand through his hair gently.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m sorry I hurt you; I hated myself the second I said it.”

“I forgive you Joe,” you told him, looking into his teary eyes.

“I don’t deserve you; I’m not good enough for you,” he said. “I want to be enough for you.”

You cupped his face gently, making him look at you. Your own eyes started to water at the vulnerability he was showing.

"Joe, you’ve always been enough for me," you whispered. "You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone. I’m here for you, not for what you do or don’t achieve."

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his hands moving to hold yours. "You don’t understand, y/n. I don’t just want to be your best friend—I want to be everything to you. And I’ve been so afraid of ruining our relationship that I pushed you away instead."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Joe..."

"I love you," he said, his voice breaking, but his gaze held steady. "I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I didn’t know how to tell you. But pushing you away hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt on the field. I can’t lose you."

For a moment, the weight of his words left you speechless. You searched his face, finding nothing but raw sincerity. Your heart ached, but in the best way, as if it were piecing itself together after being fractured.

"I love you too, Joe," you admitted to him and yourself, a soft smile breaking through the tears on your face. "But you have to let me in. No more shutting me out, no matter how hard things get. We figure it out together, okay?"

His hands tightened around yours, and he nodded, relief washing over his features. "Together. I promise."

You leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead before resting your own against it. The two of you walked out of the study and into the living room, where everyone else was already engrossed in the movie. Ja’Marr looked between the two of you and at your connected hands and gave you a wide smirk. Joe moved to the big armchair and pulled you down with him, and you snuggled into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, and you finally felt content.

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagines

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kazumist · 7 months ago

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WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies.

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him?

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again.

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?”

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well.

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?”

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.”

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — —

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides.

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — —

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now.

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?”

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?”

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — —

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.”

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — —

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay.

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.”

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side.

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss.

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — —

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you.

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him.

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact.

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips.

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.”

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back.

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — —

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour.

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — —

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — —

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since.

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold.

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

#( writings )#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #x reader

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g1rld1ary · 21 days ago

Text

christmas eve - sirius black x fem!reader

wc: 2405

cw: pure fluff, swearing, you meet sirius' friends on Christmas eve

me: happy christmas eve chickens!!!! hope u r all staying safe and happy and enjoying the holidays!!!! xxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

If you had been asked in school if you would ever fancy Sirius Black, you would have said never in a million years. Sirius Black was a loud-mouthed, annoying, entitled son of a bitch. However, many years later, you would only say your boyfriend was a son of a bitch — you hated that woman.

If either of your respective groups of friends had been asked the same question, you were sure they would have given identical answers. In school you were quiet, polite and stayed under the radar. And Sirius was, well, Sirius. There was no way the two of you would ever get along.

Admittedly, you still didn’t exactly look the pair. Sirius and his dark silky hair, electric silver eyes and intimidating worn leather jacket, and you with your muted colour palette and unassuming appearance. Yet, you thought you went together pretty well. Still, you could both understand that even time and maturity didn’t make your get together more expected. In fact, you were probably the last person the marauders expected to show up to their Christmas Eve dinner.

When Christmas Eve finally came, Sirius and James were busy setting up his and Lily's dining room for the perfect holiday event. Decked in horrendous matching Christmas jumpers with terrible puns stamped across the front, each boy broke into laughter whenever they caught a glimpse of the other’s across the table as they lay down the fancy cutlery. Remus and Lily, cooking in the other room, had opted for more neutral red and green jumpers as a tribute to the season.

“Come on, mate, we’re brothers yet you’ve kept this girl hidden for months now, can’t you just tell me?” James begged, arranging the centrepieces to be spaced how he knew Lily liked.

“Patience, Prongsy, you’ll meet her soon enough. Promise you’ll be nice to her?”

“When have I not been nice?” James cried, hands up in mock offence. Sirius just shook his head, turning to arrange some pillows.

James cast him an inquisitive look, protective wasn’t usually Sirius’ style, which meant that something about you was really different. He’d been considering that for a while, and his suspicions were only confirmed with every passing day.

There were three main reasons that James thought Sirius was (for lack of a better word) serious about you. Firstly, Sirius was healthier. With the family he was born with, it wasn’t surprising that Sirius had a host of trauma and mental health issues. And though he’d tried therapy and meds a handful of times the habit had never really stuck and he’d always had a level of discomfort in his own body. Lately, though, Sirius had seemed more relaxed and in control. James wasn’t stupid, he knew that a partner couldn’t fix anyone, but he was absolutely more inclined to approve of one who made his best friend feel like himself again.

Secondly, Sirius was more private. Sirius had always had an outrageous sense of humour, uninhibited when it came to sex jokes or sharing conquests. But recently James had noticed that while Sirius still made jokes they were aimed at other people, he’d almost completely stopped talking about his own sex life. Of course, when prompted he would boast about how sexy his girlfriend was and how incredible and active your sex life was, but it was never Sirius bringing it up, or making gross comments about your body and what you could do with it.

Finally, Sirius was gentle. He’d always been charming, but the unfiltered adoration in his eyes when he spoke about you took James aback — he’d never seen it in his brother before. It was so pure and well-intentioned that James knew in his core that Sirius was head over heels and the fall was not coming to an end any time soon.

As the clock ticked by the gang all trickled in, the dining room filling with warmth and laughter. At five minutes past nine, you rang the doorbell.

“Is this the girlfriend?” Lily clapped with delight, jumping up and down with Mary.

“I’ll let her in. Play nice,” Sirius said with a stern sweep of the room, satisfied when his friends all played along, nodding solemnly.

Standing on the Potter’s doorstep you were ball of anxiety. You hadn’t seen any of the marauders — apart from your boyfriend — since you finished school, taking a muggle job. Thankfully Sirius opened the door, greeting you with his toothy smile.

“Hi, lovely,” He said, engulfing you in a bear hug. You giggled, wrapping one arm around him, the other holding up a purple umbrella.

“Hi,” You smiled back, “Sorry I’m late, all the houses look the same.”

“What are you talking about? You’re right on time.” A lie, but a kind one so you let it be. You shook the water off your umbrella before stepping inside.

Safe in a warm home you leant up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on Sirius’ lips as he slid the coat down your arms, hanging it up on a hook beside you. You were half-tempted to just stay in his arms for the rest of the night and abandon the dinner altogether, but you figured that wasn’t possible while you were inside someone else’s house. It seemed like Sirius had the same idea, pulling away with a groan.

“Come on, everyone’s waiting to meet you.” You followed him out of the entryway, calming yourself with a breath.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my girlfriend.” Sirius revealed you dramatically as you waved shyly, shifting in your small brown heels.

“Uh, hey—”

“Holy shit, it’s you?” Marlene slammed her hand on the dining table. You jumped slightly, squinting to figure out what was going on. Your mouth dropped open as you connected the dots and looked up at Sirius.

“Do they not know we’re dating? Sirius!” You scolded him, smacking him on the bicep. Sirius floundered for a moment, struggling to summon the charm that usually got him out of trouble.

“In my defence,” He preached, “Would they have believed me?”

“I would not have,” Peter put in helpfully. You laughed, putting a hand to your forehead in exasperation.

“I guess I don’t blame you. It’s nice to see you, Peter, by the way. Long time no see, I’ve heard so much about you all.” The group all shared a look, something akin to guilt growing that they hadn’t seen someone they graduated with for years.

“And we know nothing about you,” Lily said with an expectant look to Sirius, “Since your boyfriend was so insistent on keeping you hidden away from us.” Sirius just shrugged, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Oh, baby, are you ashamed of me?” You teased with a dramatic pout.

“What’s there to be ashamed of? You’re perfect.” Sirius swooped down to press a kiss on your cheek. You grinned subconsciously as Mary and Marlene mirrored your expression. Sirius had dated a lot of people but they’d never seen him be so gentle.

“Is anyone else scared of Sirius being a normal human being?” James stage whispered and the others all agreed, joking at their friend’s expense.

“Enough gossiping about me you heathens, I’m helping Lily serve up some food. Right, Lils?” Sirius made a summoning motion and Lily followed him, a small smile still on her lips. He’d chosen wisely, Lily was the least likely to tear him to shreds about his behaviour.

You sat shyly on one of the couches in the Potter’s living room, studying your nails as you tried to come up with conversation.

“So, are you working, studying?” Remus asked kindly, putting you out of your awkward misery.

“How’d you and Padfoot meet — again?”

“How’d a twat like Pads score a girl like you?”

“I’m working, I run a muggle bookshop. Sirius came in one day by chance and just kept returning until eventually we started going out.”

“Sirius reading?” Mary asked incredulously, drawing laughter from you. You nodded happily, glad to talk about your boyfriend.

“Surprising I know, but he’s been really into it over the last few months!”

“Can I just defend myself and say that I was shopping for Remus’ birthday gift the first time,” Sirius popped his head through the door, “I didn’t start reading until I wanted to get her to like me.” You shook your head with a smile, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I was going to say I couldn’t imagine Sirius perusing a book store for fun, but it makes a lot more sense when you say it’s for a girl,” Marlene teased, popping up to help Sirius bring the dishes to the dining table.

“Hey! I’m an intellectual now, you arse.” Sirius pulled out your chair for you as the group migrated to the dining table.

“Yeah, okay, Padfoot,” Remus snorted and Sirius scoffed in false annoyance before you all fell silent, devouring the meal.

You ate and shared stories for hours and you felt strangely at home among the group. At some point Sirius, sitting beside you, threw an arm over your shoulder and you cuddled into his warmth.

You loved learning about the Marauders, you only remembered fragments from school since you were never close with any of them. James being an auror made perfect sense when you remembered his amazing DADA performances, and Remus becoming a teacher was a wonderful sequel to his long tutoring sessions in seventh year. Lily expecting a baby so young had shook up their home life but the house had clearly started getting child-ready even though it was months away. Regardless, the group welcomed you warmly and you felt immediately at home.

“I just can’t believe that you of all people are together. I mean after all this time, how you both were in school… what are the odds?” Peter asked, reaching over the table to take another scoop of vegetables. You bit your lip and tried to control the heat creeping up your neck.

“I think we balance each other out,” You reasoned, “Sirius is such a… distinct character that he needs someone boring like me to bring him down.”

“You, boring? You’re the daughter that everyone wants!” Marlene laughed, sipping a red wine.

“I couldn’t function without her.” Sirius laced your fingers together, gaze heavy on you. “She reminds me to take care of myself, go to bed before three A.M., and of course, is hot and sexy as fuck.” That was the Sirius his friends all knew, but the school-era immaturity was gone. No longer was it the ladies-man Sirius Black trying to get into someone’s pants, instead, it was Sirius making a dumb joke with someone he loved.

“Sirius!” You cried, covering your face with both hands, including the one Sirius had attached to yours. Times like these you could feel the differences between you — Sirius was known for his crude humour, you would never bring up how sexy you thought Sirius was, joke or not, especially not in front of people you didn’t really know.

The night progressed with more reminiscing and storytelling, and you listened enraptured as they told story after story of pranks and parties, a life you were unaware of being led right beside you at school. You all ended up tipsy, an embarrassing stack of empty wine bottles building up at the end of the table.

As you were told was a common occurrence, the group all decided to just stay over at the Potters, pulling out mattresses and spots on the sofa with practised speed. You took the place they gave you, grateful to still be welcome.

Swaddled in blankets, Sirius was the first asleep, dead to the world in a matter of moments. For someone who stayed up half the night, he really did pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Whenever he was with you, anyway.

Someone across the room called your name in a whisper, wand faintly illuminated. You sat up to look their way, finding the rest of Sirius’ friends looking at you.

“We just wanted to say we really like you, and we’re really happy for you and Padfoot, even if we were weird at the start,”” Mary said and you couldn’t contain your grin.

“And why weren’t we friends in school? We would’ve gotten along great,” Remus added, rubbing tired eyes.

“I would have been putting a target on my own back,” You confessed, “You were all in the same house, confident in yourselves and could defend yourself against the bullies. I was alone in my house and deeply insecure. Even if we were friends I would’ve gone back to my common room at the end of the day and been vulnerable. It was easier to just be alone.”

“You thought that through.” James nodded appreciatively but you just shrugged, a fact was a fact.

The conversation moved away from you for a while, whispers and stifled giggles bouncing across the room.

“You know that Sirius is in love with you, right?” James blurted out of nowhere, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“What?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He looks at you like he’s your whole world. He raves about you all the time; how great you are, how he’s so glad he met you. He’s my brother and I know him better than he knows himself; he’s mad for you.”

You took a moment to let that sink in. You hadn’t put too much thought into whether Sirius loved you, you’d always just been happy with the way they were going.

“Oh,” You hesitated. “I hadn’t considered that. Well, um, I should probably get to sleep, I have a lot of family to see tomorrow.” It was a poor excuse, you knew, but that was a big word.

You bade the group goodnight once more before snuggling into Sirius, and he instinctually wrapped his arm around your waist. As you drifted off to sleep, the thought crossed your mind that maybe, love wasn’t so out of the picture.

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namism · 23 days ago

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in the a.m. | hange zoë

➳ categories: college au, female reader

➳ warnings: nsfw (top hange, afab reader)

➳ word count: 1.8k

➳ summary: Hange wakes up next to a pretty girl in bed.

➳ notes: made in the A.M. was my favorite one direction album so why not use it as a fic title lolol

➳ cross-posted on ao3

Hange awakens to a dark room when a cool breeze glides over their skin. As they stare into nothingness, they reach over to their bedside table, feeling for their cellphone to check the time.

Their mobile lights up. Through blurry eyes, Hange tries to make out the words that flash on the screen.

'4:34 AM'.

They put the device back down. They pull themselves to a seated position on their bed, then reach out to the bedside table once more to turn on a lamp.

Their corner of the room illuminates a faint orange glow. Hange leans on the headboard, still half-awake, before noticing the presence that had been beside them all along.

You sleep soundly with your body turned to them, strands of hair partly covering your face. You're bare naked under the sheets just like them, the sight of your shape and the cleavage of your breasts serving as gentle reminders of last night's events. While the grogginess remains, Hange vividly remembers how the two of you got yourselves into this situation—from making out after a failed tutorial attempt to stumbling over to the bed, from undressing you swiftly to fucking you roughly, they remember it all too well.

It doesn't take long for you to stir awake, sensing the brightness of the lamp that disturbs your peace. When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Hange's naked torso before averting your gaze to their face.

Hange pats your head, then plays with your hair.

"What time is it?"

"Around quarter to five," they say. You snuggle into Hange's pillow as they continue their gentle touches. "How's your body?"

"Probably sore." You shrug. "I won't know unless I move, but... you weren't the nicest, you know?"

Hange chuckles as an answer. They can't necessarily apologize since you enjoyed it so much and it was your incessant begging that drove them to that degree. It was a night that you two had always looked forward to, so all sores were deeply wanted.

"Get some sleep." You shake your head. "No? Class doesn't start until 10."

"But why are you up?" You pull yourself to a seated position, covering your chest with the blanket. Hange's hand falls from your head to your shoulder, their hand warm on your bare skin.

"Just woke up randomly, that's all," they say. It's the truth—their body clock has been shitty since midterms season, and as much as they want to keep it secret, the night with you has been the longest time they've slept in months.

You lean on the headboard, the blanket uncovering your feet and Hange's as you pull the sheet up to your face. When you move your body, you feel a sore on your thighs, arms, and back that triggers a gasp of pain. Memories flood your head, prompting a shyness from you that shouldn't even be there to begin with. Hange is no stranger, but damn it, why is it so nerve-wracking to be around them?

They notice your predicament. After all, that's what they always do; scientists have an eye for detail and Hange is not far off from that archetype. Their intelligence surpasses many others' and it so happens that they're bright in the romance department as well. They have it all—god, they have it all—which makes them so irresistible.

They can make you crumble in a matter of seconds, like now.

"Baby."

Their hand slides to your jaw, then your cheek, which they caress with a finger. Your stomach turns in excitement, but you suppress a reaction.

Baby, really? It's not your favorite nickname, but it's endearing when it comes from Hange. They're addicting, so addicting.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" They ask.

"Just a bit," you admit. Hange turns on their side to face you, placing a hand on your jaw before seductively tracing random patterns on your skin. Your core clenches. You feel it coming—Hange's in the mood for it, and you would be lying if you said you weren't, too. "Hange…"

"I can help you soothe that."

Leaning into their hand, you decide to roll over to their side, inevitably feeling the ache in your legs. Hange wraps an arm around you and hoists you on top of them, then instructs you to straddle their waist. Their mind goes numb upon watching the sheet fall off your body, your skin so beautiful and tits so tight.

Hange kisses you. You respond with a kiss back, moaning softly into their mouth to let them know you're in for more. When they come back for another kiss, you dodge their lips to attack their neck, a move that effectively surprises them that they tighten their grip on your waist, dragging your body closer to theirs.

A prideful smirk laces your kisses, a trail beginning from their jaw down to their clavicle, which Hange judges is enough free control as they peel your lips away before you could go down any further. They kiss you instead to put you back in your place, regaining their control before they fuck you—but you grind down on them in response, and an idea comes to mind.

"It would be bad to stuff you again since you're already sore enough," they pause in between a heated kiss and their eyes go down at your pussy, a sight that causes them to smirk, "but you can always sit on my face?"

Last night, Hange didn't bother eating you out once they had their mind settled on splitting you apart on their strap, but they're sure to taste you this time around. They tap your hips and motion for you to lift your legs, so that they could scoot down the bed and position themselves under your sore pussy and get to tasting you. Embarrassment settles on your cheeks as you look down at Hange, their hungry eyes peering up at you.

"Come on, sit on my face." Their arms wrap around your thighs and they tug your limbs so you could get closer to them, but you resist. "What's the matter?"

"I-I just—" Hange waits patiently, a reaction that relieves you. "How, um, how will you breathe?"

They smirk. You probably never had your pussy eaten out before or you simply never had ridden anyone else like this. Either way, it's a fair question, Hange thinks, since they most likely wouldn't be able to breathe that well anyway, and it would be a bad idea to freak you out mid-intercourse.

"It's part of the experience, my dear," they say. "Anyway, you don't have to worry. You got me, right?"

You nod. Hange promises to signal you if they ever want you off of them, and with no worries holding you back, you sink into their awaiting tongue.

A sigh passes your lips upon feeling their warmth. Hange takes it slow at first, giving a few licks to test the waters, before digging right in and pressing their face into your pussy harder. Their tongue digs into your entrance every so often in a rhythmic manner before gliding it across your dripping pussy to swill your juices. Hange repeats the action in a way that drives you crazy, the rhythm so good that you don't want it to stop.

You gently rock your hips into their face when their nose hits your clit, wanting to relieve the strained feeling and lack of touch in the area. Hange notices your eagerness and uses one hand to spread your legs wider. You obey out of pleasure. Their lips detach from your hole to suck on your clit, and you get lost in the feeling once again. Hange is soft at it before becoming rougher, hungrier, and more passionate, something reminiscent of last night's events when they fucked you ruthlessly into the bed.

Their two hands anchoring your thighs move closer to your cunt with light touches. Hange stretches the skin on your inner thighs as their tongue moves in between your clit and your opening. An urge to cum emerges in your gut, but you resist.

"Fuck, fuck me like that," you beg in a low tone, eyes shut tight as a response to their work on your cunt. You imagine the different other things that Hange could do to your pussy, which help your building orgasm. "Oh god, you're crazy."

With a sly grin, they tap on your thigh to catch your attention. You look down at Hange whose mouth and nose drip of slick. Maintaining eye contact, you watch them slightly withdraw their head from your cunt before spitting on your wet hole and spreading apart your lips with an experimental touch. Hange accepts your moaning as a sign to continue, so they waste no time mixing their spit into your cum to create something they could lap up again.

Your hands clutch free strands of Hange's hair as they begin yet another rhythm on your hole. You follow them with the rocking of your hips, riding what you can in a needy attempt to bring back the pleasure of release at the pit of your stomach.

Hange eats you so good—"so fucking good, Hange"—that you inevitably bounce on their tongue following the rhythm they created. You feel the heat at your stomach again, the urge to orgasm coming back quickly as you bounce hotly on them. With each bounce, your hands maneuver on their hair to tighten your grip on it while your mouth opens to a string of curses: "fuck, fuck— Hange, Hange—"

"Good— good girl," they say in between bounces. Hange stills you seconds later so they could focus on your pussy, their tongue working quickly to send you over the edge.

You crumble in a matter of seconds. Hange notes the gasp you let out as a sign of your orgasm. They feel your warm cum on their tongue and another wave of gentle rocking of your hips. They allow you to ride through your release, while they catch their breath.

You get off them once you've come down. Hange runs a hand through their hair and covers their eyes with the other.

Leaning toward them, you kiss them by surprise, uncaring of the mess on their lips. Hange groans when you swipe your tongue on their bottom lip to taste your juice. They pull you closer to them, only breaking the kiss once it's hard to breathe.

They wipe their mouth with the back of their hand, taking a mental note to shower before going back to bed. You rest your head on their chest.

"What's one thing you can't do, Hange Zoë?" They chuckle. They tidy your hair and pat their work.

"I hope you feel better," they respond. You can imagine the smirk dancing across their lips as they refer to last night's sores. You nod weakly. "I think I'm going to clean up. Are you coming?"

You come with them in the shower, after which you get back to bed quickly. Hange promises to wake you in a few hours and you drift off to sleep in their arms.

#attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #hange zoë #hange #hanji zoë #hanji #hange aot #hange zoë x reader #hange x reader #hanji x reader #hange zoe #hanji zoe #aot x reader #hange zoe x reader #aot smut #hange zoe smut #hange smut

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scribs-dibs · 3 months ago

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gilded

sunday x reader, established relationship i suppose, ooc sunday perhaps, refs to sunday's trauma and a lot of his unwelcomed thoughts, ummmm it's very short guys idk

wc ; ~700-ish words

this is my (late) submission from the stellaronhvnters sillay halloween event! i used the prompt foliage this time :-)

"doesn't he owe this to you?"

Sunday lived in a gilded cage, and he liked it there.

It was safe in there, sacred, with the bars perfectly, evenly spaced, just enough room for him to see out of, just enough to see what a proper child should not do, just enough to see what he should be better than, just enough for him to see what naughty, rowdy children look like.

So when the cool breeze reddens your nose, and your eyes peek at him from over your scarf, and you ask him:

"Sunday, wanna play in the leaves?"

Of course, his careful, calculated answer is:

"I'll pass, thank you."

He doesn't quite understand why your face falls the way it does, but it sends a shiver down his spine. That response was wrong.

But who can blame him, really? His shirt is crisp and clean, and the leaves have crinkled and curled on the ground for ages. They're dirty. Proper, well behaved children stay at Gopher Wood's side, back straight and posture proper, safe inside his gilded cage. He longs for it, sometimes. The safety. The sacredness. The cleanliness.

But this isn't all bad either, he muses. This is as close to safety as ever— your hand is placed securely in his own, your bared flesh against his gloved one, and every so often you make sure to give your joined arms a hardy swing. You've all but shut him out of his office for the day, the sky turning a mellow pink as the sun sinks beneath the clouds. "Autumn" you had called it; Penacony removed the harsh breezes and early darkness from this season, and its reality would be distasteful if not for your unabashed enjoyment of it.

Your favorite part of this time of year, you've told him, is how the leaves change color. Greens disappear into warm gradients, and he supposes he can see the appeal of that.

But that doesn't mean he has to roll in them.

You nudge his shoulder, and he realizes he's spaced off. Uncouth. Pay attention.

"Come on Sunday! Can't we live a little?"

Sunday allows a short, clipped chuckle to escape him. Your face is scrunched lightly, the way it always gets when you want to pout at him uselessly. You refrain from doing that, sure, but Sunday can tell it's only a few minute twitches away from forming such an expression.

"We? I never said you couldn't indulge," Sunday presses a finger against the knit in your brow, ironing out the crease formed there. Such an expression causes wrinkles. "You can go ahead. I'll be here."

You shake your head immediately.

"It's not the same," you sigh, and Sunday knows that tone. It's disappointment, hard and sharp and cold. Though it is faint, a different flavor when encased in your gentler, kinder, form, he can still detect it a mile away. "But it's okay, we can still go to the cafe as planned."

You don't seem disheartened. You've moved on, gracefully, with the ease he both envies and admires from you.

Everything was set out for him in his cage. He had a role to play, and fulfilled it properly. Played all his pieces properly, too, made sure everything set out for him stayed in its proper place. When that all shattered, he was lost. It was your guiding hands that found him and picked up what was left of him. You...loved what was left of him in fact.

Now that he plays the role of "boyfriend," doesn't he owe this to you? Would this simple act be enough to start balancing the scales for the sin of loving him?

"Sunday?"

Pay attention. Uncouth. Shame on you.

"It's not that big of a deal, okay?" Your own finger rubs at the crease in his brow. Normally, his facade is perfect, practiced. Ease is supposed to be the neutral face for a leader. He let his guard down.

"Look," you point, and overhead the trees shimmer with their reds and oranges and yellows, shining with the little scraps of sunlight that remain, "This is enough, isn't it? We don't have to jump in the piles if you don't want to."

Your hand in his grows tighter, and the reprimands that Sunday has repeated to himself again and again suddenly feel distant.

"Walking with you is more than enough, Sunday."

Sunday had lived in a gilded cage. But he supposes life outside isn't so bad, now.

Sunday takes a deep breath, and walks with you amongst the leaves.

•------------------------•

ty for reading 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ rbs & comments are appreciated !!

#stwf : pumpkin patch!#honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday hsr #hsr sunday #honkai star rail #☆.writing

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zhounauts · 2 months ago

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౨ৎ₊˚⊹ ( BOUND TO LOVE ) STUDENT!NRK X FMR ᵂᶜ ⁴⁵⁸

0823 ── cupid's unexpected arrow struck true. guess we're just bound to falling in love

XX ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏͏this is prompt 006 of @cupidhoons' event SEASONS OF ROMANCE

WRNGS ── N/A

there is no one you dislike more than nishimura riki.

you have been stuck with him since birth, which is six thousand five hundred seventy-five days, which is also two-hundred sixteen months, which in short is also far too long.

cold air bites at your cheeks as soon as you step outside of your apartment complex to head to the bus stop. you shiver, glad you brought your scarf, and tighten the fabric around your neck.

the door blasts open from behind you, revealing riki in his school uniform and thin jacket thrown over. you glance at him in disdain. "you're really going to regret wearing just that,"

"why?" he asks, grinning, "the weather's got nothing on me," you roll your eyes at his obnoxious reply, shoving your hands into your pockets and letting out a huff.

"right, totally," you mumble, trekking away from the boy. as you walk away, something buzzes in your heart.

a tinge of worry.

yeah, like you'd ever admit that. but as soon as you hear his footsteps follow behind you, followed by sneezes and sniffles, you can't help but whip around and stomp to him.

he glances at you in surprise, the tip of his nose and ears red from the frosty air. ". . .what?" he asks, head tilting. you want to smack yourself over the head, just why the hell did you turn around? your face burns in embarrassment.

"hey, what's that?" you exclaim suddenly, pointing at nothing. riki turns around, and as he does you slip your scarf off your head, tossing it around his neck. he glances back at you in surprise.

"wha--"

"listen up riki, you're never going to tell anyone about this, alright?" you hiss, "no one. got it?" he blinks at you, before he bursts out into laughter.

"are you five!?" he laughs, his voice dancing through the frigid air. puffs of smoke escape his mouth as he laughs, clutching his stomach. you glare at him, grabbing the scarf and tying it as tightly as you possibly could over his mouth. he mumbles incoherently into the fabric, but you shove him away from you and whip around once again, speed walking away.

"hey!" he calls from behind you, "wait up!" you don't stop for him, ears burning. "hey!" he says again, catching up to you.

"what?" you mutter. he grins at you, the sight sending your heart into a frenzy.

"you do care, don't you?"

"shove off," you hiss, burying yourself deeper into your puffer. he laughs at your answer, reaching his arm out tentatively, before gently placing it on your head. he laughs.

"well, even if you won't admit that you care about me, i will,"

and in the frosty air of winter, your heart is on fire.

RAE'S NOTE(S) hey guys so mariah carey posted it's time, so it's christmas time now!! i had a lot of fun writing this >:)

(ZHOUNAUTS , 2024)

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steddie-spooktober · 5 months ago

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welcome to steddie spooktober, a month-long writing event for the month of october!

there’s some spooks, some scares, some simple fall days.. all for the love of steddie and everyone’s favorite season 💜

there will be no min/max word count, and no set rating limit just please be sure to include the rating and prompt(s) at the start of your post, and tag @steddie-spooktober so it can be added to the queue!

same applies to any artists that would like to participate! just tag us and include the prompt(s) you chose!

a '🎃' will be commented in the replies of your post so you know it's been added to the queue

PROMPTS!

1st - rain 2nd - woods 3rd - apples 4th - corn maze 5th - "Did you hear that?" 6th - haunted 7th - skeleton 8th - bonfire 9th - werewolf 10th - orchard 11th - "That's the dumbest looking jack-o-lantern I've ever seen." 12th - graveyard 13th - superstition 14th - bats 15th - baking 16th - "Would you please stop trying to scare them?" 17th - hayride 18th - candy 19th - zombie 20th - cryptid 21st - "It's warm in here..." 22nd - leaves 23rd - witch 24th - pumpkin 25th - Frankenstein Friday 26th - blood 27th - scary movies 28th - mask (suggested by @bifuriouswaterbender) 29th - sweater (suggested by @tea42) 30th - "Where in the hell did you find that costume??" 31st - trick-or-treat

please feel free to interpret these however you’d like; thank you thank you to all of you who sent prompts, i was super glad to see a good handful of the ones i’d already jotted down get suggested ☺️☺️

you can send asks/messages with questions here, or to my main blog @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe!

finally, most importantly,

HAVE FUN!

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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◇ Now That I Found You, Stay ◇

Chapter 11 of That's What You Get

Summary: A long, overdue conversation is finally had.

Warnings: smut, minors dni 18+, fingering, vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, pet names, creampie, breeding kink, marking etc. Spoilers for Season 7 of Criminal Minds, episodes "Hit" and "Run."

A/N: And next week is the end of our journey! If anyone is interested, I can answer any questions you have about this series and its ending/ what I'm planning for after this, etc. in my inbox this weekend! I'm really thankful for everyone's support so far! 11 down, 1 to go!

As always, you can find my masterlist here, and my requests are currently open!! <3

You weren't expecting him to be so very prompt, but after hearing the panic in his voice on the phone call, you really shouldn't have expected any less.

Taking in his appearance, you were almost sorry that you'd caused such an upset. His eyes were darker than usual, a look of no sleep crossing his features, but he still stood hypervigilant in the doorway. Almost as if he were scanning you for injuries or harm, he drank you in.

"You're wearing it?" The words fell from his mouth before either of you could say hello. The second his eyes locked onto the ring on your hand, it was suddenly the only thing he could think of.

You could see him biting back further questions as he waited for you to invite him in.

"I'm wearing it. That's okay, isn't it?" You asked, glancing up into his panicked face as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"Yeah, it's… it's okay, yeah. Why… why are you wearing it?" He asked hesitantly, blinking a lot as he waited for your answer. You pulled the door further open and waved him in with your arm. He stepped into the immediate space but didn't move in further, as if he were scared to go in too far for fear he'd be led straight back out again.

"Listen, Y/N, I know I should've told you, and I'm so sorry, and-"

"I know."

"No, you don't. You didn't remember anything when we woke up, and I was so scared that I'd forced you into it, that you were going to regret everything, and-"

"Spencer," you grabbed his attention, flattening your hand on his chest as you forced him to focus on your words. "I know." His rambling ceased as he tried to sus out your meaning, obviously coming up blank of the furrow in his brow was anything to go by.

"Penelope was here. Thank you for that, by the way. Penelope was here, and she showed me this video she took." Your hand lazily stroked over his chest, settling into place over his heart, where you could feel the organ desperately thumping, trying to make its way to you.

"I heard that being presented with photographic evidence of an event can spark memories of it. I guess that worked for me." You sighed and took a step towards him.

"I know how much you love me because you told me."

Since watching Spencer's Chapel confession, glimpses of the night had been falling into place, puzzling out the entire story.

You remembered being in the casino with him. He'd taught you some special tricks for the card games, and you'd laughed in delight as you'd raked in the cash. You hadn't done as well as him, but you knew you never would.

You remembered how you'd left hand in hand, him pulling you out of the casino, away from an angry security guard, who obviously had questions about his sudden luck. He'd pulled you into am alleyway, and you'd stood there, laughing, chests heaving as you grew closer, finally wrapping around each other in joy, your lips meeting as if it were something they always were meant to do.

He had flushed beautifully as he'd pulled away, so concerned that he was taking advantage of you. He whispered his love to you into the small space between your skin, under the influence of alcohol or cupid or something that made him brave for that second.

You remembered the way he'd tried to take the words back, and you remembered just as vividly how you'd refused to let him, smile growing to the point where your cheeks had felt tired.

He'd kept talking, though, and you remembered every word he said to you.

"You know I have this recurring dream," he had started. "I used to have bad nightmares, but now it's a dream. I wake up in bed, and you're there. We eat together, we get ready together. We go to work together. We are together. Is it weird I have dreams about being married to you?" His eyes had flashed with panic for a second before you'd pulled him down for a kiss.

"Okay." Your voice barely a whisper, your nose pressed against his.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll marry you. It seems like a lovely dream." And you had, and it was.

You focused on him in the present again, looking up into his eyes as you connected your other hand with his.

"Spencer, it was a lovely dream." His eyes soften as he breathes a sigh of relief.

You pull back for a second, leading him out of the doorway, before turning on him. Plucking the ring from your finger, you drop it into his palm, closing his hand around it.

"Oh. I understand, I… I get it, if you don't want this-"

"Spencer, what I want is a question." You sink to the floor, pulling him down with you until both of you are on your knees.

"Now that we're both sober, I want the question. I distinctly remember you not exactly asking last time." It took him a few seconds to understand, and you squirmed as you waited for him to finally give you what you needed.

"Oh." You laughed at his dumb-struck expression, still acting obviously for him to ask you to marry him.

"Oh, right, okay. I'm sorry, I thought I'd be better at this." He fumbled the ring in his hand for a second before offering it out to you, clutched awkwardly in both of his hands.

"Y/N, will you marry me?" The anticipation bubbling up in you spilt over as you threw your arms around him, tackling him to the floor as you shouted yes as many times as your breathless lungs would allow you.

The ring is forgotten underneath the two of you somewhere as his lips attach themselves to yours, stealing even more of your oxygen while giving you life. His hands pulled you in by your waist until you were a mess of limbs on the floor, wrapped around one another.

He pushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear when you finally broke apart, drinking in as much air as you could.

"Great, because I don't think I could go back to the nightmares."

"And I don't think the title divorcée suits me very well, Spencer. This is mutually beneficial." He laughs as his lips draw yours in again, using his body weight to flip your positions, quickly but carefully lowering you to the ground, kissing every inch of your face as you curiously roll your hips up into his.

When you try to come up for air again he doesn't let you, pushing your shoulders down as he sucks love bites into your collarbone.

"Spencer, how…How should we tell everyone? It's going to be a shock, right?" You tried to keep your voice steady but even you couldn't control the reactions you were having to this man's touch.

"I have some ideas," You feel him smile into your skin as his head slopes lower and lower. The top of your dress was low enough that his head could graze the tops of your breasts without having to disturb much, and you weren't sure if you wanted an answer to your question or his undivided attention more.

"Care to enlighten me?" You asked as he planted a final kiss to your chest before pulling up and off you slightly.

Picking up your hand, he delicately brought the inside of your wrist to his mouth, kissing it tenderly.

"You could walk into work with this on your hand," he said, pushing the ring back onto your finger. The cool metal and his warm touch sent shivers down your spine as you dedicatedly watched him make his way across your body.

Back at your neck, he spoke again, softly. "I could mark you up, nice and good, until everyone knows what an obedient little wife you are." His tongue flicks over a particularly sensitive spot, and you moan as you squeal into the touch. He spends some time there, making companions for his earlier love bites.

Letting his hands trace lower, he finally ghosts a finger across your clothed pussy. With just a few mere touches, you're putty in his hand, whimpering his name helplessly, your arms wrapped about his neck.

"We could do it that way, too. Those motel room walls are always pretty thin. I'm sure one scream of my name and the entire team would know." Your hips buck up violently into his own and you're surprised at your sudden lack of self-control.

You moaned for him, waiting for him to give up his teasing and give you what you really wanted.

His hands remained ghostly, though, and you almost cursed in frustration. Pulling your dress up, he was swift and agile, hands falling to your bare hips once he'd made sure you were displayed to him. You moaned as you tried to buck your hips up into his hands again, but he caught you before you could.

Instead of meeting you where you wanted, be pushed your dress even higher, head moving lower to begin pressing kisses over your stomach and lower.

"Or I could knock you up and we can for you to introduce the baby with my last name. Really let everyone know just what a horn little slut you are for me." you contemplate grabbing a fistful of his fair, but his lips are back on yours in a flash, and you gasp as you feel him finally push your panties to the side and let his fingers dive inside of you.

"Or I could give you a real wedding. Claim you right there in front of everyone.

"I could take thee, to be my wedded wife," his hands slipped deeper into you still as you moaned underneath him.

"To have and to hold," his other hand dropped to rub your clit as he kept his eyes locked with your own, mouth wide with arousal, trying desperately to prologue this pleasure and not come undone so instantly on his hands.

"From this day forward, for better or worse," your mind goes blank, filling with his voice and only his voice.

"For richer, for poorer," he pulls his fingers away for a second, and you moan in protest.

"In sickness and in health," he sits you up in his lap, ridding you of your remaining clothing as he drinks in the view of your entire body.

"To love and to cherish," he kisses you again, so soft and passionate that you are almost surprised when his dick slips into you from under you.

"Till death do us part." He rises to his knees, holding you up in his arms as he begins thrusting into you, hard and fast.

With his attention so wholly on you and your pleasure, you come undone in a matter of moments, Spencer still finding his rhythm as you stutter around him.

"Good girl, you're doing so good for me, milking my cock like that." He doesn't slow down as you give yourself over to him, just stroking your hair as you readjust to all the touches you're receiving. You claw your hands into his back as you start getting over stimulated, trying desperately to retain hold of your sanity.

He's pounding into you too desperately to sustain your position, quickly pressing your back into the floor once again, spreading you once more, and continuing his ministrations.

Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, desperately holding on for fear that letting go would mean losing him again. You feel your nails break the skin of his back as you scratch, claw, grip.

"How about we do all of that?" He grunts in your ear. "I'll give you whatever wedding you want I'll give you the world. If you let me breed you like a nice little whore." You moan his name in response, your entire body growing rigid again as his words build another climax inside your stomach.

"Let me mark you and show off who you belong to." You remember the feeling of his cum shooting into you, and suddenly you find it is everything you've ever wanted.

"Fuck, Spencer I'll do anything, please just don't stop."

His mouth finds yours again as his hand finds its way to your clit again, and suddenly your hips are jerking up and down his cock as you cum.

He isn't far behind you, not bothering to pause his movements at all as he spills his seed inside of you, pushing it in and letting it leak out of you, your collective fluids pooling under your ass as he gently calms his movements.

Holding himself like that on top of you, your breaths sync, and even as you're both gasping for air, looking into each others eyes is enough to spark more laughter. You're all tenderness and love, and and filled with him.

He doesn't bother to pull out, simply making sure your legs are tight around his waist and your arms are tight around his neck as he hauls himself to his feet, warming his cock inside you as he hauls you to the bedroom.

Finally pulling away, he lays you gently on the bed, taking notice of where the carpet has bitten into your back. He slips his cock out of you and retreats to the bathroom, no doubt seeking out cleaning materials.

When he rejoins you on the bed, he rubs your cunt lazily until you're cleaned up, but you grab his hand and urge him to keep going, before pulling him back over you.

The remainder of the night is restless as you make vows back and forth with every clash of your bodies, mouths hot with the need to prove your love for one another.

You finally get to wake up in his arms the next morning. He hasn't left, and you certainly didn't kick him out. You watch him peacefully for as long as you can before he stirs, and the two of you have to ready yourself for a day's work.

"We should tell everyone as soon as possible, right?" You say as you both climb out of the shower. Sharing it saves time, he'd said, but it hadn't been quite as efficient as he'd made it out to be.

Towelling off his hair, he replied. "Honestly, most of them already know."

"Wait… the witnesses!" You gasp as you remember what it is that you still didn't quite remember. "I know Penelope is one of them. Who was the other?" You demanded, whirling around on him as you brushed your teeth.

If you take everyone you'd talked to so far at face value, that left only three options.

"We're going to work soon, right? Maybe you could figure it out. Profile your second witness, perhaps." You scowled at him and threw a towel half heartedly, resisting the urge to stomp childishly when his phone begins to ring.

"Hotch," he answers, growing serious once more. "Yeah, we're awake, I…. Where? Okay, be there soon." He hangs up quickly and turns back to you.

"Will's partner was just killed as they responded to a call about a bank robbery. They want us to consult apparently, it's still in prog-" His hurried words are cut off by the even more hurried shrill of your phone.

"Hotch, yeah, I know, I'm… I'm with Spencer."

Hotch's voice is silent on the other end of the line for a second before his familiar stern tone sounds into your ear.

"We'll talk about that after we get everything settled for now, just get yourselves into the office."

You, too, hang up, and, with your husband, you make your way to the crime scene.

--X--

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x y/n

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mewtwoandme · 4 months ago

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A bit of an update/mini announcement. My grandmother's situation has been looking up. We're gradually getting things in order and this whole ordeal should be straightened out soon. It's greatly taken a lot out of me this past month though, but I've been resting a lot recently cause now we're just biding our time until our court date in October. My motivation has still been very much absent, but I'd love to get the creative juices flowing again in some way.

So here's my mini announcement: I'm thinking about doing a game with ya'll. Something similar to the ones where you get to ask the characters questions, but instead, it'll be with prompts! I'll come up with a list of prompts for ya'll to choose from, and I draw a one-shot for whatever activity you'd like to see my characters do! I also think I'd be fun to do a fall/autumn theme with it being around the corner, and rather than setting a time limit, this will be an ongoing... "event" I guess we'll call it, for the fall season (or just until I decide to stop, depending on how I feel). So if someone were to pick, for example: 🎃-Carve Pumpkins, I'll draw a one-shot of the mewtwo fam making jack-o-lanterns XD

So let me know if that'd be something you'd be interested in ^^

#update #mod announcement

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farfromstrange · 3 months ago

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Fictober Day 1: Baking Cookies

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Baking Cookies (🌼)

Summary: You convince Matt to bake cookies with you, and it’s a rather… domestic scene.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. That’s it. That’s the post.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: Day 1 of Fictober and we’re starting with something sweet! The -ber months always get me in the mood for cookies, especially chai tea or matcha cookies, so that’s what inspired me. Who wouldn’t want to bake cookies with Matt on a cold and rainy day? I know I would. If you want to be tagged for all fics of this event, let me know. Other than that, I am using my respective fluff and smut tag lists that I use for just about everything I write. But if you want to be tagged for both and aren't already on my tag list, feel free to tell me in the comments! Now, I’m so happy we all get to do another October together, and I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve got cooking for you! May you all come out of this sufficiently satisfied.

Read Me On AO3!

The streets of New York are bathed in a disarray of colors as dead leaves continue to fall off the half-green trees. Before you knew it, summer had slipped away into a moment in time. The heatwave that had terrorized the city turned colder with the end of September, and then suddenly, October was knocking on your door.

You watch the rain trickle down the kitchen windows. The air smells of roasted cinnamon and coffee beans. The billboard outside shines brighter than the afternoon sun stuck behind a sky of gray, throwing a blanket of dark purple over the apartment, and the radio has been playing the same Beach House song on repeat for the past hour. But as you look over at the love of your life, his rough fingers delicately dancing over the label on the sugar jar to figure out what’s inside, there is no doubt in your mind that this is where you belong.

Matt is wearing the maroon sweater you knitted for him last Christmas. Once the seasons start changing, he pulls it out of the closet like he couldn’t wait to wear it again. Your hands crafted something for him to wear so he wouldn’t have to suffer through the cold anymore; there are not enough words in the English language to describe how much that means to him, but you know. You always know.

He looks almost content, standing there with his hair tousled, glasses discarded somewhere in the living room, and a faint smile on his lips. His brown eyes are so soft they remind you of the hazelnut coffee you shared before you suggested, “You want to bake some cookies?”

Much to your surprise, Matt didn’t argue. You expected him to tell you that it’s not Christmas yet, and you were prepared to tell him that cookies don’t need a specific season to be baked. But his face lit up as soon as the words had left your mouth, and he was more than eager to spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with you.

“How much sugar do we need?” he asks.

You look down at the handwritten chai cookie recipe he picked out. “Uh, half a cup,” you say.

He nods, eyebrows furrowing in utmost concentration as his hands feel around the countertop for the measuring cups. You gently place your hand over yours and guide it to the cold plastic.

His smile widens. “Thank you.”

You look at him like he’s the only man in the world, and to you, he is. It’s not often the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen lets someone into his heart, you learned, but you only fell harder for him when he finally did. He’s beautiful and not at all perfect, but he is all you want.

“Sugar?” Matt snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Right,” you murmur. “Half a cup.”

He can probably hear your heart racing, hammering against your ribcage. You guide your joined hands into the sugar, filling it only half before moving over to the bowl with the other dry ingredients. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even comment on how flustered you are, he just holds on tightly to your hands as though he is afraid you might slip away if he doesn’t.

It is a different kind of intimacy that’s almost sensual, bodies brushing as you get a whisk to mix it all together, your hand over his and the rain pattering against the window in tune with the radio.

The cinnamon and the chai tea mix with the faint note of Matt’s cologne on your body, on his shirt, and the scent is unlike anything you could possibly describe. You find yourself leaning closer, impossibly closer, barely stirring anymore. He’s home. He’s your home.

“Is this part of the recipe?” Matt murmurs.

You hum. “This step is called stirring the batter.”

He smiles against your temple. “Mh. I like this step.”

“Me too.”

One of his hands slips from yours and comes to rest around your waist, swaying you to the music. You wouldn’t dare break this magic.

“Is there a step called ‘Kiss my future Mrs. Murdock’?” he asks then.

Blood rushes to your head. You’re so fucking happy. A giggle slips past your lips. “I think that’s the next step,” you say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He bridges the gap between you like a man starved, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that knocks the air right out of your fragile lungs. His hand tugs you just a little closer. You belong to me, the action screams. And while you would never allow yourself to be considered someone’s property, it is nice to be wanted. To be needed. To be desired like you are the only thing on his mind, and treated right. Because you deserve it.

After a moment, he pulls away. His unfocused eyes roam your face, but you know he is only listening to your heartbeat, smelling you, feeling you—that’s how he sees you.

“What’s next?” he asks softly.

You peek down at the batter, then look back at him. Your mind is still reeling from the kiss, but you manage to pull yourself together enough to say, “Wet ingredients.”

“Oh?”

“Not like that, you pervert!”

Matt chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about it.” You swat his chest. “I wanted to bake cookies, so let’s bake some damn cookies.”

If you don’t pull away now, you’re sure you won’t get anywhere tonight.

“Is that what we’re doing?” he teases.

You nod. “That’s what we’re doing.”

He takes whatever you give him, and does whatever you tell him to until the cookies are finally in the oven. He doesn’t waste another second before pulling you back into his arms.

“Hi,” he says.

You smile back at him. “Hi to you, too.”

“You forgot this…” You watch as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring—your ring.

It was only natural for him to ask you to marry him. He’d been waiting an eternity to do so. No one knows him like you do. No one sees him like you do, and no one loves him quite like you. You’ve seen him at his best and his worst, and you love him not despite but regardless of all of his demons. He doesn’t know what he did to ever deserve you. Quite frankly, he’s not sure he will ever be worthy, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

Matt had gotten so used to people walking out on him before you came along that he truly believed he was beyond redemption. Beyond saving. But then you tore open the manifest of his soul, read all the pages, and you gave him your heart anyway. He has not let a day go by where he hasn’t at least tried to do right by you. To take care of you. To love you. To carry you in his very hands like the fucking ethereal being that you are. He’s so scared of losing you, he sometimes loses sight of what he wants just to make you happy, but it’s worth seeing the smile on your face when he brings you flowers he thinks smell like you, or when he gets dinner from your favorite restaurant to surprise you after a long day at work.

Matt’s only purpose in life is to make you happy because he knows you give him the world in return, a kind of love he never thought he would get to experience. It’s unconditional, it’s deep, and at times, it hurts, but he’s learning what it is like to appreciate the life he was given.

He would steal the stars for you if you wanted them. He would die for you, and sometimes he thinks he might even kill for you. Break all of his rules just to make sure you stay unharmed. He would go up against God, even, if it meant you wouldn’t have to suffer. He would not survive losing you, and sometimes, that scares him.

It has been a long road for him, and at times it felt like he was carrying a wooden cross on his back like Jesus did, but all the suffering eventually led to a sense of peace. He learned how to love again—to love you. After Elektra, after putting Fisk away, after everything, he allowed himself to settle down. And he knew shortly after he met you that he was going to marry you.

You wrap your hand around the ring in his hand, and he gasps softly as he returns to reality. “Didn’t want it to get dirty,” you whisper.

Matt slips it on your finger, and it feels again like the first time he did it. “I know. I kept it safe for you,” he says. A pause, and then, “I love you… Mrs. Murdock.”

He will never tire of saying it. Not even when you’re old and gray and you can’t remember where you put your godforsaken glasses.

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you, Mr. Murdock. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

The honesty in your voice overwhelms him. “You mean that?”

“With all my heart,” you promise.

The words take a second to seep in, to withstand the doubts that are always raging inside of him, but then he pulls you in, and he kisses you again. He kisses you like his life depends on it, the delicious smell of chai tea cookies filling the air, and it’s the safest you know you are ever going to be—here, with him, and in his arms.

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @lucienofthelakes

#lizzi's fictober 2024 #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock fluff #flufftober #charlie cox

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afyrian · 4 months ago

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always open for you sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader (fluff) m.list | wc: 1.2k | prompts: brother's best friend + next door neighbor

"oh shit, no no no no no," you whisper to yourself, running up the soiled stairs of your old apartment building.

the torn paper sign still stays taped against the metallic elevator doors. they've been there for as long as you've lived there, and you'd be damned before your landlord would ever spend the money on something so 'frivolous'. forcing you to push your way up the steps, sweat beads already piling on your forehead.

precipitation rests on the back of your neck, the back of your shirt already feeling the affects of six flights of stairs. taking in a deep breath, you make your way up the last flight, hands weary of leaning against the stairwell handles. "shit, i'm going to kill him," you whisper once more, praying for the day you free yourself from the lease.

pushing open the door to the main hallway, you clamber down the carpeted flooring. some doors stay decorated, fall leave wreaths decorating some of the older couples' doors. a few even have welcome floor mats, begging for a place of their own, their welcome mat beautifully placed on a restored wooden porch.

walking up to your door, you grab at your pocket, feeling for your key. biting your lip, you look up at the cracked clock at the end of the hallway, fifteen minutes until four. finally, your fingers pull the key from the little pocket hidden within your jeans. however, it fumbles from your fingers, falling to the ground.

rolling your eyes, you lean down quickly in an attempt to pick it back up. and in a rube goldberg type of scenario, your forehead knocks into the door handle. reaching your hand up to the throbbing spot, you straight your back, moving your foot instinctively. the rubber sole of the shoe knocks into the key, sending it under the door.

"no no no, this can not be happening today," you shake your head, pressing your head forward to lean against the slightly scratched up door.

closing your eyes, you can feel the five stages of grief washing through you. denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. however, acceptance lingers just far enough in the distance that you can only feel the aura of it. "i can't miss this meeting," you whisper to yourself, mind wandering with thoughts of nearby libraries and shitty reception on your phone.

before you can lift your head, a nearby door creaks open. the hinges begging for even an ounce of oil. "everything okay?" a voice asks, quietly, yet loud enough that it rings loudly in your ears.

turning around, you see your one and only neighbor, sakusa kiyoomi. he knows you, you know him. his reputation proceeds him as your brother's closest friend. "hi sakusa, i'm locked out. so okay, for the most part, but i have a meeting i have to attend in a few minutes," your gaze glances towards the clock for another second... twelve minutes.

you can remember the first time you met. atsumu invited you to one of their charity events, and he walked in with a suit that could rival anyone. he barely spoke to you, but after you moved in from across from you, the two of you begun to see each other every morning.

and every morning, you wonder how he can bother to stay in this apartment building. especially when you know how much atsumu makes a season. "that's a bummer... you could borrow my computer if you'd like, until you can get a key. gives me an opportunity to have atsumu owe me something," he shrugs, arms crossing in front of his chest.

"that would save my life, plus i would love for atsumu to owe you something as well," you laugh, hands clinging to your bag's strap.

sakusa looks back at his door and then to you, "but i do have errands to run, could i give you a key and maybe you could return it next time i see you?"

his eyebrow quirks upward, a smile growing on his lips. there's a unique feeling you garner from seeing his smile. the way it makes your stomach churn undeniably sets you into a minor panic. "yes, i can absolutely do that. thank you again sakusa. it's an important meeting regarding promotions and missing this would kill me," you clasp your hands together, bowing slightly in appreciation.

sakusa turns around to unlock the door, not seeing your form of expression. "well, we can't have that happening, now can we?" sakusa shakes his head, opening the door to show a beautifully decorated apartment.

it differs from the general look and atmosphere of the apartment complex. volleyball paraphernalia sits on a few shelves in the corner, some of the walls painted a pleasant pale yellow color. his kitchen has had some repairs, no cracks in the wood like yours. no drawers stuck closed due to the last renter's indiscretions.

even a light scent drifts through the air, blocking the musty smell of the hallway's carpet. "your apartment is beautiful," the words come out quietly, a wave of shock rocking you.

"thank you, trying to make it feel like home until i can get a home," he shrugs, walking down the hallway into one of the farther rooms.

down the hallway hangs some photos that he hung up, all framed in a carved, wooden design. some are of the black jackals' team, one even of sakusa in the middle of spiking the ball. as you venture further, you see one of him and who you presume to be his grandmother. she's cleaning something with him, a candid photo of sorts.

smiling to yourself, you hurry to catch him in the small office room he holds. it's just as good looking as the living room and kitchen, his computer boosting up with a tired hum. "i can't thank you enough for this," you shake your head, turning on your phone to check the time once more, five minutes, "really, this is life saving."

"it's alright, this room has been collecting dust anyway, what with all of the tournaments and practices happening lately," sakusa shrugs, fingers gripping at a ballpoint pen as he scribbles something onto a blue post-it note.

turning to look at you, he presses the sticky residue against the desk, "this is my number, call or text if you need the password or anything. or feel free to save it if you ever get locked out of your apartment again."

for a moment, it feels like butterflies flutter within your throat. strangling any sense of normalcy within you, forcing you to feel awkward in his presence. "alright, i definitely will. at least then i won't be stuck with annoying the landlord during his 'personal time'," you roll your eyes, noting every time he's ignored your calls.

"right... yeah, use it whenever, my apartment is always free, even if i'm not," sakusa nods, pushing open the office door more, making his way back to the front of the apartment.

standing breathlessly, you tap your finger against the post-it note. staring down at it, you notice the quickly drawn smiley face hidden in a zero. "fuck," you whisper to yourself, noting your heart beating quickly and the heat rushing to your face.

a/n: hating myself for not formatting this all on the actually ask 😔 but i hope you like it dodger <33 gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

#art credit to @/carrotsprout_ on twt #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #hq #haikyuu fanfic #hq x reader #hq fanfic #☆ fics #☆ writing event #sakusa x reader #sakusa kyoomi x reader #hq sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x you #msby sakusa

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endlessthxxghts · 1 year ago

Text

Routine

Frankie Morales x coffee shop worker!afab!reader || W/C: ≈7.9k

Summary: Frankie makes a new routine for himself to help with his mental health. In that routine, Frankie stumbles upon you.

Content/Warnings: POV switching - stops towards the end, then POVs are combined. Friends to lovers. Slightly scared and reluctant friends to lovers. Slow burn. Canon divergent to Frankie's Triple Frontier storyline (No history of lady or child for Frankie). Brief mentions of South America and Frankie's mental health. Brief therapy talk. Overthinking!Frankie, but Reader comforts and reassures him. He’s not insecure the entire time, promise lolol. Hints of angst, but this is me we’re talking about — always will be a happy ending here🫶. No physical description of reader besides coffee shop uniform (no size descriptions used) - any descriptions are neutral, no adjectives to describe (purely things like "your thigh" etc.). No use of "y/n". SMUT 18+ MDNI (making out, cunnilingus + fingering, unprotected P in V sex + cumming inside, breast worship/titty sucking). If there's anything that should be up here, please do not hesitate to let me know!

A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and happy days, everyone! This Christmas season, I was apart of @pedrostories' 2023 Secret Santa event where we gift some type of creation to another fellow Pedro-related blog on here. I'm honored to have created this story for the lovely @alwaysbethewest ! I'm a huge sucker for a soft man, so in reading the prompt you gave, I just had to write for good ol' Francisco Morales—the sweetest of the bunch. This story was so cute and sexy to write, I'm so excited to see what you think. I truly hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

Frankie

You need to create a routine.

One that takes you out of your house.

Out of your comfort zone.

These words rang in Frankie’s ear as he allowed his feet to make decisions for him today. Ever since South America, Frankie has been struggling to maintain a sense of normalcy again. He rarely leaves his house unless it’s for groceries or work — or as of the last few months, unless it’s for therapy.

Frankie’s therapist noticed he was falling back into his old habits, his old mannerisms; and in being prompted about what his day-to-day looked like outside of therapy, Frankie was met with those three phrases.

“You need to create a routine.”

“I have one,” Frankie says defensively.

“One that takes you out of your house.”

“I do,” he says. “Work. The store.”

“And out of your comfort zone.”

Frankie scoffs. As soon as he thinks of a quip, his therapist’s watch beeps. Saved by the bell.

Frankie rises, getting ready to leave the room. His therapist leaves him with a new assignment. “Clear your schedule. You’re doing nothing but spontaneous decisions tomorrow.”

He takes a breath to calm his frustration. “How will you even know if I’ve done it?” Frankie asks.

“I’ll know.”

“And if I lie?”

“I’ll know,” his therapist reassures.

Which is why he finds himself in the early afternoon at a coffee shop, during what looks like to be its busiest hours of the day. Shit.

He enters the line as he scans the menu on the wall, the line being long enough he’s sure he’ll make a decision by the time he gets to the register. He usually gets straight black coffee, but taking his therapist’s word a little too seriously, he opts for something else.

Hazelnut? No. Mocha? No. Vanilla? No. Fuck, okay, this is harder than it looks.

He scans the tinier board off to the side for today’s special: an horchata latte, either iced or hot. Horchata? He can absolutely get by that. The guy at the register takes the order of the customer in front of him, and the same guy switches off and begins to make the customer’s drink. Waiting to be helped, Frankie reaches into his pocket to get his wallet ready, but still angsty from the hustle and bustle of the coffee shop, his grip fumbles and he drops it.

He bends down to go pick it up, and as he stands back up, he’s immediately met by the most heartstopping view. You, with a brown apron, a hand-drawn name tag, and powdered sugar adorning your cheek. The smile on your face as you greet him causes his brain to short circuit.

“Hi! How can I help you today?” you beam at him, completely unaware of the cuteness radiating off of you, melting his anxieties made of wasps and transforming them into the shape of flapping butterflies all throughout his tummy.

“I- um, hi- yeah, I’d, um-” he stumbles on his words. You smile at him, nodding your head patiently and understanding. “Shit, sorry-” he laughs nervously.

“You’re okay,” you giggle, slightly intrigued at the flushed state of the man before you. “This your first time here? We’ve got a lot of options, it can be very nerve wracking picking from our menu,” you comfort, probably assuming it’s the first-time jitters taking away his ability to speak.

“Oh, uh- yeah, it’s my first time here,” Frankie confirms. “But actually, I had my mind set on today’s special? The horchata latte?”

Your face lights up like a million suns, and his heart feels like it’ll burst any second now. “Oh my gosh, really?!” you squeal. “That’s my creation we’ve highlighted today,” you say excitedly, “and you’re actually the first to order it!” You ring up his total, Frankie handing you his card to swipe in the machine. “Hot or iced?”

“What do you think?”

You study him for a moment. “Personally, I like iced because horchata in itself is already so refreshing, so it adds to that. But you seem like you’d prefer it hot, which is also objectively just as good.”

“Wow,” Frankie says with a smile.

“Was I accurate?”

“Right on the nail,” he confirms.

“Your name?” you ask, reaching for a cup.

“My name?” He asks, confused.

You gesture to the cup with a smirk. “For your order?”

“Oh,” he says. You catch the blush that falls on his cheeks. “Frankie,” he tells you, his hand shooting to the back of his neck to soothe his awkwardness.

“Well, Frankie,” you say after writing his name. “I’ll need an honest review after,” you smile at him as you turn away, signaling for someone else to take register so you can be the one to make his drink.

He can’t help the cheesy smile that forms across his face at the prospect of getting to speak with you again. He turns around and searches for an open table.

He sat on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for his name to be called when someone clears their throat in front of him. He looks up to see you, powdered sugar still kissing your cheek and two drinks — one iced and one hot — in your hands with that smile he’s slowly becoming addicted to.

“Didn’t know you guys do table service?” Frankie asks, in a joking manner but truly he’s curious.

“We don’t,” you smile smugly as you place his cup in front of him. “Told you I needed my review.”

He smiles at you, then reaches for a napkin and lifts his hand towards you as you sit in the seat across from him. He gestures to your cheek. “May I?”

You go pale. “Oh, God, don’t tell me I’ve had shit on my face this entire time?”

“Okay, then I won’t,” he offers gently. You lean closer into his hand, giving him the green light. He wipes the powdered sugar from your cheek, his face in concentration mode as he makes sure to wipe it all off. He feels you staring, his face heating up the longer your eyes are on him, but he doesn’t break.

“There,” he whispers, “the shit is gone.” Your faces are still inches from each other.

“Thought you weren’t gonna say anything?” you whisper back.

He breaks the proximity first, clearing his throat to steady himself. He doesn’t reply to your remark. Instead, he grabs the coffee and brings it up to his lips. “Let’s see what this is all about, yeah?” The second the hot liquid touches his tongue, he knows his days of black coffee are over. It’s creamy, the perfect amount of cinnamon, a perfectly pulled espresso shot that highlights the natural nutty undertones — it’s fucking perfect, and he tells you exactly that.

“Guess now you’ve got an excuse to come back,” you tell him.

“I think I had an excuse before that,” Frankie quickly lets out before taking another heady sip, referring to the beautiful human sitting past him.

You lean back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest, something akin to trouble written across your face. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I guess you did.”

He’s experienced enough to know when someone is flirting with him. He’s experienced enough to notice a mutual attraction. Yet, there’s something so bold, so intoxicating about you that you’ve thrown him off balance. Whether you’re just a naturally friendly, bold person, or you’ve actually taken an interest in him, there’s no way he’s going away now. You’ve got him hooked.

You need to create a routine, he was told, and creating a routine is exactly what he’s going to do.

It’s been six months since his first visit, and in those six months, he’s had the opportunity to really get to know you.

In the first month, he visited twice a week, once during the weekdays and once on the weekends. He made sure to time it on what he noticed to be your shift, and he also timed it for right when you were about to take your break. Catching on pretty quickly, you offer him a bit of reassurance.

“My schedule is the most consistent out of all of my coworkers, by the way,” you say, sipping on your iced mocha.

His ears perk up. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Been here the longest, so the owners let me play around with my schedule and pick up shifts that I want to,” you tell him. “But my therapist a few years ago told me to set a routine for myself, so-”

Frankie chokes on his coffee with a laugh.

“Oh my god,” you giggle, “you okay?” you ask him, leaning forward to pat on his back.

Frankie’s breath falters at the contact. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he pulls away from your embrace out of nervousness. If you notice, you don’t mention it. “Just threw me off a little.”

“Why? What’d I say?” you reply.

“No, it’s nothing, it’s just,” he sets his coffee down. “A month ago, I had a therapy session, and my therapist told me the exact same thing. They literally told me I needed to create a routine for myself,” he says.

“Oh,” you say with a straight face. Your face goes unreadable for a second, and he feels like he fucked something up. “So is that why you’ve been harassing me for weeks on end?”

Frankie looks like he’s just seen a ghost, pale and flushed at the same time, his ability to form any kind of words rendered impossible. “I- no, I-”

In his state of panic, he’s looking everywhere except you. He feels your hands wrap around his, and you’re leaning closer to him, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Frankie, I’m joking,” you coo. You can see his jaw unclench as he searches your eyes for any signs of discomfort from him. Nothing. There’s something there as he holds your stare, but nothing tells him you don’t want him here. A shy smile forms on his face, and the bashful blush on his cheeks return. He knows you notice it, but still, you don’t mention it.

“For what it’s worth,” you speak again. “I enjoy having you in my routine, too,” his own giddy demeanor reflecting back at him through you. There goes the butterflies again.

Five months in, and he’s coming into the shop everyday. He doesn’t always get coffee, but mostly, he’s there to see you. Sometimes you’re way too busy to take a break any time soon, so he’ll slip in, give you a little wave hello, accept your sweet smile in return, and he’ll slip out.

“Gonna actually get something today, Morales?”

A few visits ago on your break, you ask him if his name is short for anything, and quickly add in that if Frankie is what he prefers, you don’t care to know anything else. His heart melts at the sentiment, at how understanding and gentle of a human you are. Not only to him, but to everyone who has the privilege to interact with you.

Francisco Morales, he tells you. Francisco, Frankie, Frank, you can call me whatever you want. This time, he thinks he catches the heat creeping on your face, but he doesn’t acknowledge it.

“Morales, huh? And what do you mean actually?”

“I’m not dumb, Frankie,” you smirk. “I know you don’t get anything a few of the times you stop by.”

He swears his heart falls out of his ass. He thought you’d be too busy to even notice. As a former special op, he thought he would have been more slick about it.

He scans the menu above you, as if he hasn’t studied it a thousand times over, just to get out of your piercing gaze. “Just tryna keep the routine, is all,” he retorts.

“The routine, huh?” you smile at him, a hint of mischief in your eyes, along with that same something he can’t quite identify — it makes his chest swell. “Your favorite is back on the menu, by the way.”

Frankie turns to the special board: horchata latte. Smiling to himself before he responds, “I’ll have that, then,” he says, reaching for his card. “You going on your break now?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply, “and coffee is on me today.”

His eyebrow quirks up at you. “Please?” you tell him with the world’s worst (more like cutest) puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. How the hell can he say no to you now?

“Fine,” he deadpans.

You squeal in excitement. You shoo him away to go find a seat, and you’re at his side within moments, two hot cups in your hands.

He looks quizzically at the other cup. “I don’t know, I’m just feeling like a hot cup today,” you shrug. “What can I say, you’ve influenced me,” you giggle, not realizing just how much that statement affects Frankie’s crushing little heart. God, you’re beautiful, he can’t help but think as you curl up as best you can in your chair while you sip on your coffee. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way about you. One, you’re practically his best friend at this point, and two, you probably wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like him.

“So,” you say, pulling him from his thoughts.

“So,” he repeats.

“I was actually thinking of taking this weekend off,” you tell him.

His face falls a little, but he’s quick to fix it before you notice — hopefully. “Oh, is everything okay?” he asks.

“Nothing bad,” you reassure him. “I just think I need a little weekend to myself before the busy holiday season really starts.”

“That’s understandable,” Frankie replies.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “But…” you trail off.

“Buuuut?” He drags the word out for dramatic effect, sensing your nervousness and wanting to help calm you.

You giggle at his antics. “But I don’t wanna break our routine,” you say quietly. A little oh escapes his mouth. “I was wondering if you- if you wanted to hang out, maybe? On Saturday? Or even Sunday? Whatever works for you… and you can obviously say no, don’t feel obligated-”

It’s always been you cutting him off from his overthinking and comforting him, and now it’s his turn. He leans forward, wrapping his hands around yours as they hug your coffee cup. He gives you a little squeeze and calls your name gently. “I would love to.”

“Okay,” you say sweetly. “Wanna do a movie night?”

“Anything you want,” he tells you.

It’s surprising he didn’t have your phone number until five months in. Though, come to think of it, he’s seen you practically everyday since he met you. And there was no need to communicate beyond that. Right?

Shaking his head to clear him from his thoughts, he copies your address from your guys’ text thread and pastes it into his maps. It takes him five minutes to get to your place, and as soon as he gets to your front door, you’re already opening before he has a chance to knock.

“Oh! Frankie, hi,” you gasp delightedly. “Perfect timing,” you laugh. “I was just gonna grab the groceries out of my car. Go inside, make yourself at home.”

“Hi,” he smiles, “I can help with the groceries?”

“Oh, that’s okay, it’s just one bag. Give me one second,” you say walking to your car.

He waits for you as you grab the bag, both of you walking back inside together. “So I’m terrible at picking a movie, and if I didn’t narrow down our options, I feel like we’d be here all night deciding.”

“What do ya got for me?” he smiles as he makes his way to your couch, purely just enjoying being in your presence regardless of the movie you both decide to put on.

“Alright, since we’re nearing Christmas, I have a few holiday options, and then a few general of my favorites — Elf, The Grinch, or Home Alone; or we can do my personal favorite, but I promise I’m good with whatever you choose, Labyrinth, Paddington 1 or 2-”

Frankie’s eyes light up at the latter option, and you immediately catch on. “Okay, so I’m guessing one of the Paddington’s?” you say with a snort.

He grimaces. “Was it that obvious?”

“Frankie, you literally looked at me like I am your entire world,” you laugh. “Yes, it was that obvious.”

“I mean, it’s not any different than how I usually look at you,” Frankie says without thinking. Immediately his hand is on his mouth.

He sees the shock on your face for a millisecond before you’re back to your usual cool and collected self. How the fuck do you do that? “Okay but which Paddington? There’s only one right answer, here.”

Although his heart is still beating through his damn chest, the question puts him back on track. “Paddington 2, duh,” he says without missing a beat, he rolls his eyes as he playfully scoffs at you.

“Good answer,” you say sternly but with a smile. You set up your TV onto Paddington 2 and then quickly run to the kitchen to grab the popcorn you made. You set the bowl on your coffee table, turning back to grab something to drink. “What’s your drink of choice? I’ve got water, tea, soda — I can whip up a coffee for you, too, if you’d like,” you yell to him.

“Hmm, enticing, but I’m okay with water for now, though, thank you.”

You return back to your living room, scanning the table making sure you don’t need anything else. You ask Frankie if he does.

“Just you,” Frankie says, again, not thinking before he speaks. God damn it, Francisco, get it together.

You smirk at him, he sees your eyes tracing the red across his cheeks. Christ. “You’ve had me for a while, Morales,” you say under your breath, softly but still loud enough for him to hear. Your words genuinely cause his heart to skip a beat. You settle onto the couch beside him, ignoring his shocked face. “Ready to watch?” hints of your smugness still there.

“Y-yeah, ready,” he stutters.

Six months. It’s been six months since he met you and his old self would never have expected his day to day to look like this. He’s got a usual stop at your work—always on his lunch since you start later—sometimes getting coffee and other times your smile is all that he needs to feel energized for the day.

You

And on the weekends, you two share a movie night—your version of recharging for your next work week.

Ever since the first weekend you took off, you loved the mental break it gave you, so Frankie encouraged you to take the leap and start taking off every weekend. The owners agreed, of course. He assured you it wouldn’t break into your routine together. If anything, your time together has increased significantly. You genuinely have no idea what you’d do without Frankie at your side nearly every single day, but there’s something in your heart telling you he’s feeling the same way.

For six months, since the very first moment he fell bashful in his presence, you’ve been completely and utterly captivated by him. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him—especially not so early and not for this long—but there’s always been a magnetic pull between you. Both of you know it and neither of you can deny it, especially in the occasional flirty comment made by either of you, but there’s something holding you back from pushing for something more. You’ve grown accustomed to seeing him practically every single day, and one wrong move or one wrong boundary crossed, and suddenly everything is gone. You can’t risk it. You’d rather keep him at arm's length at all times rather than not have him at all. He’s your best friend for crying out loud. You cannot lose him to something so juvenile.

However, with tonight being your weekend ritual paired with a particularly draining week of work, all you wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep your entire weekend away. Though, what you wanted more was to see Frankie. He told you it was truly okay if he didn’t come tonight, knowing about how hectic your week was, but you weren’t having any of that.

“I swear to God, Frankie, I will fight you,” you told him on the phone earlier.

“Oh, really?” You could hear his smug face in his reply. “I’d like to see you try.”

The butterflies erupt in your belly and begin to fly lower towards your core, igniting a spark in the lower part of you that you’ve been trying to keep at bay for months. You take a deep breath before steering the conversation elsewhere. You know he both hates and loves when you do that—smoothly pulling away from the bait he gives you while saving his ego in the process. You’ve gotten so good at this after years of unwanted flirting from customers. You didn’t realize how perfect this skill would be in keeping your distance from the man you want most.

“Shut up and get your ass over here, Morales,” you tell him. “I know where you live, you should be here by the time I change into my damn pajamas.”

“Should I change into mine, too?” He teases.

You both know Frankie loses every flirty little challenge that occurs between you. Which is why he isn’t surprised at your response, but it still stirs him up nonetheless. “That depends,” you say, your voice dropping in tone. “Are you a gray sweatpants or plaid pajama pants kind of guy?”

“Both,” he says. To the average ear, it’d sound like the most casual response. To your ear, though, you can hear the pain laced in his voice.

You stifle a giggle. “In that case, yes, please, by all means. Change into your pajamas, baby.”

You don’t leave room for him to reply, ending the call before you can overthink how that was the most suggestive flirty comment you’ve made yet.

Pulling your head back into focus mode, you go to your kitchen to start preparing the usual snacks you two indulge in during these nights. You also got a new ice cream flavor on your last grocery run that you thought was interesting and wanted to try, but you’ll pull that out when he gets here. Or maybe not. You don’t need to watch him clean off his spoon like the attentive man you’ve come to learn that he is. Your body shudders at the image.

Goodness, what is up with you today? You are always so good at keeping your feelings down, especially the physical ones. There must be something in the air today, because all you can think about are things you shouldn’t be doing with or to your best friend.

Before you know it, a knock is at your door, and you cannot help the way your eyes immediately sweep his body from top to bottom with a lingering stare at his center. You’re absolutely shameless with it, too, your tongue darting out to lick your lips as you drink in the sight of him. Gray sweatpants. A dark green, fitted tee. You are drooling.

Your eyes finally meet his own, and you’re met with a smug Frankie, knowing that this time, he won this round. “You alright there?” He asks you.

Confusion takes over your face. “Huh?”

He brings his fingers up to swipe across his lip. Oh, dear God. “Got a little bit of...” he trails off with a smile.

Your ears finally register his remark, and your hand is immediately swatting at his chest. “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes. “Get inside.”

He follows you into the kitchen, a new thing he started doing a few weekends ago to help bring all the snacks to your living room in one go rather than multiple trips. It also takes away from the amount of time he’s not with you, so you never questioned it. Walking back to the living room, you speak once more. “I cannot guarantee staying up the entire time, and I apologize now if I fall asleep on you.”

He says your name in an I told you so manner, “I already told you I didn’t have to come.”

You’re sitting side by side on the couch now. “And I already told you I don’t care,” you respond back. He shakes his head disapprovingly at your persistence. You know he’s biting back a smile. A goofy smile you’ve caught a handful of times, and you eat up every single one. “You can choose the movie, though, seriously.” Adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position on the couch, a position where the sides of your bodies are closer together, your head finding solace on his shoulder, you add, “I swear, I think I wanted you here to be my pillow.”

“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” he whispers, taking control of the remote to throw on Elf. Your eyes are already beginning to close, and you mutter a small yeah at Frankie’s statement, then you are out like a light.

Frankie

Frankie spends most of the night watching and listening to you rather than the movie. Watching how your nose twitches ever so often or listening to the occasional snore that escapes you. He doesn’t even realize the movie is over until a trailer for another movie is halfway through. His wingspan allows him to reach the remote nearby, and he quickly shuts the television off.

He debates if he should wake you and make sure you get to your bed safely, or if he should just slip out from underneath you and continue letting you sleep. You look so peaceful, he thinks. Yet exhausted. He decides on letting you sleep. Or at least, he tries to.

He gently attempts separating himself from you, his hand cradling your head to rest it on the couch cushion rather than his shoulder. Even in your sleepy state, you’re just as stubborn. You smack his hand away and wrap your arms tighter around his arm, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder to gain your comfort back again. You let out a final huff before settling on your position.

“Sweet girl,” he whispers. He can’t stop the endearment leaving his lips. His heart is too full at the way you’re physically attaching yourself to him. “I need to go,” he says softly. “Gotta let you sleep.”

Your grip tightens more so, a little whimper leaving your lips as your eyebrows furrow. “Stay,” you mumble.

And although you’re fully overtaken by sleep, he’ll be damned if he ever argues with you, no matter the state you’re in. He takes a deep, settling breath. “Only for a little while longer,” he mumbles unconvincingly as he minutely adjusts his body to a more comfortable position, his head leaning partly atop yours.

You

It’s not lost on you—the two words that fell from Frankie’s lips when he thought you were deep in your slumber. It took every ounce of your willpower not to shudder at the way it echoed throughout your fatigue-hollowed brain.

You thought that maybe, with Frankie’s perception of your sleepy state, you could let part of your inhibitions go with him—reveal to him how you really feel, and pretend the next morning that you don’t remember what you said if something you don’t want to hear is revealed. Though, that’s easier said than done, only able to build the courage to mutter one little word to him as you continue laying in his warm embrace, the soothing sounds of his steady breathing blessing your ears.

The longer you lay here, the more antsy you become. What could possibly go wrong if you two revealed how you feel to each other? You know one hundred percent that the feelings are mutual; it’s a matter of who breaks first, and quite honestly? You’re fed up.

You lift your head up, turning to look at him. He’s out. “Frankie,” you whisper-yell. Nothing.

“Frankie,” you say a little louder. Still nothing. How the hell did he doze so fast?

Finally, with a small slap to his cheek and one final call of his name, he’s up—and confused as fuck.

“Huh-” he blinks heavily. His groggy eyes are searching for you. “Cariño, are you okay? What’s going on?” he rushes out, the sleep disorienting his ability to respond appropriately, forcing worry to the forefront of his mind.

Too worked up to let his brain chemistry regulate, you rip the bandaid right off. “Francisco, do you have feelings for me?”

Well, fuck. If he wasn’t awake then, he sure as hell is now.

“I-” he takes a deep breath, still trying to get his brain to catch up with the whiplash of events. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, slightly defensive from the natural accusatory inflection with a question like this.

Your face falls. So does his heart. “Frankie, don’t be coy,” you say—you beg. “Please, just answer the question.”

He breaks your closeness, turning his body on the couch to completely face you. You mirror his movement. His eyes are searching yours. That something he couldn’t quite identify; that something that swims your gaze every time his eyes meet yours? It’s there, and he knows damn well what it is. He was just too afraid to admit it, to mortalize it into something real, something tangible. Because deep down? He knows he doesn’t deserve you. He doesn’t deserve the love you give. The loyalty. The care. He’s done too much bad in this world to even fathom a mere chance at a life with you.

But the way you sit there, staring back at him like he’s your entire world, he can’t stop the selfish desire to spill his truth to you.

“Yes,” he lets out. The pure admittance is like a ton of weights have been completely lifted off of his chest after carrying it for so long. He can see the relief on your face, too, all your anxieties washing away with a single-syllable, three letter word.

“Oh, thank God,” you softly giggle as you choke back a sob. Frankie can feel his eyes tear up.

“Frankie?” you call.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Please kiss me.”

His hands are on your cheeks in seconds, pulling you in to slot his lips with yours, a sweetness laced with a fire that’s been begging to be ignited since he met you—powdered sugared cheeks and a smile that could take a person out faster than any punch in the gut could.

It’s quick to grow more passionate, his tongue dancing across your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You let him in, of course—your tongue falls into a perfect tango, as if it were meant to be doing this dance with him all along. A soft, breathy moan escapes your lips, and you eventually build enough strength to pull away.

Frankie’s quick to apologize, his overthinking getting the best of him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so carried away-”

You pull him in for a quick kiss to shut him up, a little laugh swirling in the air. “At what point did I make it feel or sound like I wasn’t enjoying that?”

In the dim light of your living room, you see a familiar tint glow across his nose and cheeks. He doesn’t—and can’t—respond to your very sound logic. “No, I-” you start, suddenly feeling yourself get all shy. “I pulled away because I- um…I was wondering if y-you-” you cut yourself off in frustration, grumbling out at the way you suddenly can’t face the man whose tongue was in your throat moments ago.

You pick yourself up off the couch, grab his wrist, and swiftly lead you two to your bedroom. Crossing the threshold of your room, you stop at the edge of your bed. “I-is this okay?”

Frankie stares at you in a trance, a lust-filled yet pure adoring trance. Before your eyesight can register, Frankie’s dropping to his knees, hands on your hips to urge you to settle on your bed. “This is okay,” he promises.

He kisses your belly through your pajamas. “More than okay,” he mumbles to no one in particular.

“Frankie,” you whimper.

“Can I taste you, baby?” He asks, his gaze finally breaking from your eyes to glance down to your core.

“Y-you don’t have to,” your voice quivers.

His fingers find the hem of your pants, waiting for your signal. “Oh, I don’t have to,” he tells you. “But I want to,” he inhales. “To be honest, I need to, so fucking bad, baby.”

“Fuck,” you say as you rapidly nod your head for him, his hands wasting no time in pulling your bottoms of you. The desperation laced in his voice alone has your eyes wanting to roll back. You’re settling yourself to the edge of your bed, leaning back as you spread your legs for him. “Take what you want, Morales,” you declare.

He smirks before he dives in. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Oh!” you gasp out at the sensation, pure warmth and passion behind his movements, your head struggles to maintain upright at the sight. Your bottom lip instinctively hides between your teeth in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to escape you, your tiny little whimpers the only sounds escaping you.

He starts with a flat stripe up your cunt, his tongue gliding through your folds and lapping up your wetness to bring it up to circle your clit a few times before dragging back down to your entrance. His fingers are curling into your bed sheet tightly, scared to cross any boundaries by moving too fast to your liking. His cock instantly jumps at his senses being consumed; your sweet, tangy taste mixed with the distinct, saccharine scent that’s uniquely you—he can’t control the groan that escapes his throat and floods through you. God, he could spend forever worshiping at your altar, completely and utterly content.

He pulls away momentarily, the slick bottom half of his face shining back at you. “I just know you can make a lot more of those sweet sounds for me, cariño,” he says as his tongue licks his bottom lip. “It’s just you and me, baby, let me hear you,” he says with a sharp flick of his tongue to your clit. “F-fuck,” you yelp out, your body jolting at the sudden piercing pleasure of his tongue’s movement, your fingers scrambling to the curls on his head. He looks up to you with a smirk, reveling in your reaction.

And with that, his hands are gripping your thighs, his face jumping right back in, completely flush against your center, his nose squished against your mound. His eyes are rolling back at the feel of you, the way your slick just pours for him as he continues licking and sucking everywhere he can reach. “F-feel so good,” you moan, your strength finally breaking as your upper body crashes down onto the bed, your back arching in pleasure.

His dominant hand releases your thigh, and you can feel his finger teasing your entrance as his mouth treks back up to your needy bundle of nerves. “Frankie,” you gasp, “please.”

He moans a raspy mhm into you, his finger not wasting another second before he dips inside, utterly turned on at the warmth wrapped around his finger. He can only imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his aching length.

Frankie lifts off your clit with a pop, his finger still pumping in and out, in and out. Your hips are meeting each movement, desperate moans and incoherent pleas leaving your mouth as he watches your pleasure in a pure bliss.

His eyes fall back down to your cunt and the way it’s greedily swallowing his middle finger. “God damn, baby,” he mutters. “I think you can take another, sweet girl,” he breathes, leaning down again to place an open-mouthed kiss on your sensitive center. “What do ya think?” he asks breathily.

He’s watching every inch of you—the way your thighs are twitching, the way your fingers are straining in its grip, the way your mouth is falling open into a weak o-shape as you try and force words to leave your mouth. “P-please,” you attempt, “a-another-”

Immediately, he’s straightening out his ring finger to join his middle, his smug smirk falling into a desperate one, needing to pull every ounce of pleasure he can from you really his only goal for tonight. “I’ve got you, cariño,” he tells you, his mouth returning back to lavish you as his fingers curl and hit the spongy trigger button from deep inside.

You practically yell out for him—neighbors be damned—as your orgasm overtakes every inch of your being, catapulting you into another pleasure-filled dimension. “I’ve got you,” he comforts with his lips still attached to your skin, “let go for me, mi amor.”

His fingers are still pumping inside of you, fucking you through the intense wave of your orgasm. His head rests on your thigh, pressing soft kisses and sweet praises as you slowly gain consciousness.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“Too good to me.”

“Estoy tan enamorado de ti.”

Frankie takes your hazy disposition for granted, using this small window to whisper everything he’s been wanting to say to you forever.

You begin to whimper at his movements, and he takes that as his queue to relieve you. His fingers finally leave, his mouth taking the responsibility of lapping up your slick—thoroughly, you note, as you watch him rise to his full height.

“You okay, cariño?” He asks as he swiftly takes his shirt off. Your eyes grow impossibly darker at his bare torso, your spit falling thicker, and you’re quick to scramble yourself up higher onto your bed.

“More than okay,” you mirror his words from earlier. He lets out a little laugh, the butterflies in his tummy ever-present as his eyes scan you up and down. He pulls down his sweats, too, before he’s kneeling on the bed, crawling up towards where you’re situated. You can’t help the way your smirk falls when your eyes do—pure hunger consumes your features, and Frankie’s cock jumps at the sight.

He gulps at the way you’re eating him alive, too eager to be inside you yet too nervous in the case of accidentally messing anything up. The last thing he wants to do is cross the line with you.

As if reading his mind, you take the initiative to pull your top off, your boobs an immediate distraction from his anxieties. “Don’t get shy on me now, Morales,” you say as you let your hands caress your body and make its way down to your still-soaked pussy. “She’s feeling so empty,” you pout, your hips bucking up as your fingers rub your clit.

You swear Frankie’s eyes flash red, and he’s caging you against your bed within seconds. One arm hooked around your waist, the other holding himself up near your head. You bracket his hips with your own as his lips hungrily crash into yours.

You can feel the way his cock rubs against your center, his hips grinding into yours, letting his tip catch onto your clit as your tongues fight for dominance. Your hand snakes down without him realizing, a hearty gasp leaving his throat as your fingers pump him a few times before you guide him towards your entrance, easily pulling him in with your post-orgasm slick.

He’s slow with the way he’s thrusting into you; pulling out until only the tip is inside only to push all the way in at an agonizing pace as he lets you get used to his size.“S-shit,” he whimpers, followed by your name. “So d-damn g-good,” he takes a shaky breath. “‘S like you were m-made f’me,” he forces out, pained.

Even though it was an easy glide in, Frankie is fucking huge, his girth still providing a slight sting of a stretch, but you love it. You’re gonna feel him inside you for days at a time, and the thought makes your pussy flutter around him. His hold on your waist tightens in an attempt to steady any squirming that might come from you. “Gonna fucking cum already if you keep on like that, honey,” he groans. His eyes are shut in pained pleasure.

Fighting against his hold, you start meeting his thrusts, the angle of your hips providing the perfect friction against your clit, you just might cum again in seconds if you both keep this up.

“I don’t care,” you tell him, your ankles locking around his waist. “Fuck me, Frankie,” you say, grabbing onto his face to making him look at you. “Make up for loss time, and fuck me,” you snarl.

His lips are sloppily on you, hips speeding up, pounding into you deliciously hard. Both of you are too lost in the pleasure to even properly kiss right now—a mess of spit, tongue, and teeth clashing as you swallow each other’s moans.

Frankie breaks his lips from yours and he trails his touch lower, biting onto your chin and nipping lower and lower all over your neck. The sensation causes a fresh wave of flutters at your core, evident in the even louder wet squelch each thrust produces from between you.

You’re feeling so good, too good, that your chest arches into him, and Frankie takes the opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipples. Licking and sucking on each, slathering them in his spit before ultimately latching onto your left breast and practically making out with it as he continues fucking you into your matress.

“Oh my God, Frankie,” you whine, eyes clamping shut at just how good he’s making you feel. “Just like that, baby, please don’t stop,” you say, your fingers finding purchase in his curls for a second time tonight, keeping him on your chest. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again.”

He lifts off your left breast, and moves on to the right, trailing wet kisses on his path over. “Let me feel you, princesa,” he mutters as he gives your other breast the same treatment. His hand leaves your waist to make its way to your clit, giving you the extra push you needed to fall off the edge once more. Your pussy clenches at the feeling—a stream of yes and please and fuck leaves your mouth—causing his stomach to tighten, dragging him to the edge along with you. “Cum with me,” you say. “Cum in me,” you quickly revise, “need to feel you,” you whimper.

His fingers speed up on you as his hips falter in its rhythm, and then it’s pure white, hot bliss consuming both of you in a way neither of you have ever felt. “Oh, fuck,” he lets out as he lifts off of your breast, pretty red flowers blooming under his mouth’s touch. Fireworks erupt behind your eyelids, vibrating you from the inside out, as a fire roars through every nerve of his body, leaving him a heaving, trembling, jello piece of mass above you as he struggles not to crush you.

You can feel the way his muscles are shaking, the bed vibrating with him. A giggle filled with ecstasy escapes you, relishing in the contrast of the airiness of your body compared to the solid mass he turns into post-orgasm.

You grab onto his shoulders, and softly nudge him to slide to lay beside you before you slip off on jello legs to the bathroom and kitchen. With as much strength he can muster, he turns to you with a frown. “Where you going?”

“Just gonna get a cloth and water for us both, baby,” you chuckle. You head to the kitchen first and bring the waters to your night stand, taking a large gulp from your glass and forcing him to do the same. You bring yourself back to the bathroom and wipe yourself with a warm cloth, throw it in the hamper, and get a new one to clean Frankie.

You make your way to his bedside, and you bring the cloth to his face first. He’s quick to stop you. “Frank,” you scold. “What are you doing?”

“I…” his face goes red. “I can still smell you on me.”

You swear your knees buckle, heat overtaking your entire body. “Let me clean it,” you whisper, not really knowing how to reply to that. He just gives you puppy dog eyes. You quirk your eyebrow at him. “You can taste me again later,” you offer with a smirk.

He thinks it over for a second, a sigh escaping his lips like he just made the hardest decision ever. “Fiiiine,” he drags out, exaggerated.

After you wipe the rest of him down and bring his cloth to your hamper, he’s quick to reach for you with grabby hands, always needing to be in your embrace—especially more so now.

You cuddle facing each other, your head tucked into his neck as your legs tangle with one another. He’s drawing shapes and lines all around your back.

“Hey, Frankie?” you call out.

“Yeah, cariño?”

“You said something earlier,” you say. “Estoy enamorado something. What does that mean?”

Frankie’s ears go hot. Surely after everything you two just did together, that’s a declaration of love in itself. What more if it’s actually verbalized? “Oh. Um- yeah,” he replies a little rigidly. “Estoy tan enamorado de ti,” he repeats the phrase.

You’re looking up at him now, eyes bright and curious. “Yeah, that!”

“It- um- it means…” he trails off. He meets your gaze, and his heart stops. He’s so in love with you.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “It means I’m so in love with you.”

Your gaze shifts from one of curiosity to one of pure, unfiltered love. Your eyes are tearing up at his admission. He brings his finger up to catch a tear escaping your eye.

You sniffle and take a shaky breath in. “Well, in that case. I’m so in love with you,” you state matter-of-factly, pushing your body up to catch his lips in a soft but lengthy kiss, one that hopefully translates to him just how much you love him, need him, and want him—ever since you took his order.

He releases your lips to place a soft kiss to your nose then to your forehead before pulling you in closer to relax in each other’s hold. A few more moments pass before he calls your name.

“Hm?”

“Can you remind me tomorrow to reach out to my therapist?”

“Of course, baby,” you say with a kiss to his chest. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah, baby, everything’s good,” he confirms. “Just need to send them a gift basket or something.”

You look up at him with a confused look on your face. “You and your therapist give each other gifts during Christmas?”

“No,” he tells you. “Well, I thought we didn’t. But in telling me to fix my routine, they led me to you, so.”

“Baby,” you frown, feeling yourself tear up again.

“I know I pay ‘em to do this,” he says, “but a gift like this? A miracle like this? I feel like I’ve gotta give something a little more.”

Unable to hold in your emotions, you crash your lips against his for the millionth time tonight. Pulling away a little breathless, you say, “Sign my name on there, too.”

End note: Again, I truly hope you, @alwaysbethewest (and everyone else) were able to enjoy the way this sweet sweet story unfolded. I didn't realize just how much their dynamic would mean to me, but here we are, an entire piece of my heart later💚. Thank you for prompting me exactly what you did. I'm endlessly grateful. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happy New Year! Lastly, I just want to give a little special shoutout to my rock @javierpena-inatacvest for proofreading this story for me and making sure it did our Frankie boy justice. I love you.💚

Tags: @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @yorksgirl

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future stories or would like to stop being tagged altogether. Much love! Xx

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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princessmisery666 · 7 months ago

Text

Best Con Ever

Summary: It’s all fun and games until the truth is revealed.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: fluff, drinking, silly stuff, Jared being an annoyingly good friend (seriously, he wouldn't shut up!).

W/C: 2,381.

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Alexander Calvert, Richard Richard Speight Jr.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x fem!Reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Challenge/Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Prompt/Square Filled: Making fun of one another

Notes: Jensen is a single pringle for this one!

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes are mine.

Graphics: dividers - @talesmaniac89 / picture in title card - @lemondropsonice - they were kind enough to grant permission to use when I asked.

Master Lists: Dean Winchester / Main

The special fan event is going so well. The intro includes party games, such as Pin the Wings on the Angel and Bowling with the Devil. The pins have pictures of demons from each season taped to them. There’s also a drinking game with “apple juice” because Jensen and Jared keep insisting “Jack” - Alex - isn’t old enough to drink yet. You’re a little buzzed, but it helps ease your nerves.

“Ah, you said Supernatural!” Alex exclaims, pointing at Jared, and the audience collectively yells, “DRINK!”

Shots of apple juice that smell suspiciously like whiskey this time get passed around until the four of you have one, and then, as one, you shoot them back.

“Woo,” Jensen yells, sucking his teeth as he turns his back to the audience and looks at you. “Don’t let me fall over.”

“Only if you do the same for me,” you laugh.

“I got you.” He turns to the audience again but puts his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side.

Of course, the audience immediately awws and gasps. “Oh shhh, you lot,” Jensen playfully scolds, “I’m just holding her up.”

“Wouldn’t want her falling now, would we?” Jared says. “Unless it's for you. Ba-dum-tss.”

He gets nothing from the band. The drummer shakes his head.

“Oh, come on!” He complains. “That was good!”

This is your first event since joining the show at the end of season eleven, but it is not the first time a potential off-screen romance has been mentioned. You have seen videos of panels where fans have asked the question, and you and Jensen have each been approached by fans on the street. With Jensen’s arm wrapped firmly around you, you are sure you can get through it without making a fool of yourself.

Jensen has been a wonderful source of support from the beginning. You had been nervous about how the fans would react because you replaced the wonderful Megalyn Echikunwoke as Cassie Robinson, Dean’s love interest from way back in season one. The inconsistencies in appearance had been loosely explained, and it was somewhat plausible in the world of Supernatural, but that didn’t bother you so much. Being Dean’s love interest was what worried you the most. The fans are so protective, and rightfully so.

“They’re going to love you,” Jensen had said when you aired your concerns. “Just like I…we do.”

He was right. The reception to the reintroduction of Cassie couldn’t have gone better. The fans loved it and accepted you and Cassie Robinson with open arms. You’d read some comments, heard second-hand from producers, and when the fans started an online petition - for fun - to get you and Jensen to date in real life after seeing behind-the-scenes footage, Jared dubbed himself the President of the “Jensen and Y/N should be a couple IRL” club.

You and Jensen played along with it. It helped ratings, and it wasn’t a chore to have Mr Ackles’ undivided attention at parties and dinners to play up to the rumors. But that's all it is: rumors. The two of you are close, on and off set, but whereas Cassie and Dean are super hot, you and Jensen are lukewarm. Hugging Jensen - though it happens often - unfortunately doesn’t lead to sex like it would with Cassie and Dean.

Richard announces it's time for the fan questions and asks those selected to form an orderly queue behind the microphone. Though the questions have been pre-approved, you get a wave of anxiety as you don’t know what they will be, and you hope this portion of the event goes as well as the rest of the day. A fan asks how your first meeting with the cast went, and you look sheepishly at Jensen.

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes but sighs in defeat. “Fine, you can tell it.”

“Better yet, reenact it!” Jared suggests.

Your eyes light up with something akin to glee, and Jensen raises his brow and doesn’t need to ask the question in his eyes, ‘Really?’. You pout, bottom lip sticking out as far as it will go. “Please,” you draw out.

Reluctantly, making a show of it, and very slowly, Jensen gets to his feet, leaning closer to pretend to nip at your protruding lip.

Jared shakes his arms out as he stands up, “I’ll play Y/N.”

“The hell you will,” Jensen says, playfully pushing him out of the way. “Y/N will play herself.”

Jared comically falls over his chair to the ground as if Jensen’s push was twice the pressure it had actually been.

You stand up in front of Jensen and wait for the laughing audience to quiet down. Jared stands straight and holds his microphone close to his mouth. “It was a bright winter morning, not a cloud in the sky,” he narrates in a poor impression of David Attenborough’s voice. “The beautiful and elusive beast, Jensen Ackles, notices a radiant creature across the lot. Slowly, he approaches…”

Jensen shakes his head at the crowd and rolls his whole head along with his eyes but obliges the narrator. He walks the few steps and shakes your hand with way too much enthusiasm. “Hi, I’m Batman. Dean. Ackles. I mean …” he groans, trying to dismiss his embarrassment, then blushes and says, “Hi.”

You laugh again, as does everyone else. Jensen grimaces just as he did on the day. “I’m going to walk into the sun now, sorry.” he strides around you to the end of the stage, and Jared steps up to take his place.

Jared shakes your hand like a normal person. “Translation, that’s Jensen, for I think I just fell in love with you.”

Jensen, with his back to the two of you, throws a thumbs-up over his head. “It went exactly like that!” Jensen confirms, nodding and shrugging as he makes his way back to his seat. “And now that we’ve all relived my embarrassment, let's move on.”

The microphone gets passed to the next person, and they ask, “Jared and Jensen are known for their pranks. Have they played any on you, Y/N?”

“Oh yes!” you answer as Jensen takes his seat beside you and squeezes your knee. “I’m hanging like twenty feet in the air,” you begin.

“That’s like three Jared’s,” Richard adds, pointing to Jared on his left.

“Exactly,” you laugh, spreading your arms and legs out in a star to show the position you were in. “I’m full on Mission Impossible Tom Cruise-ing it, three Jared’s high off the ground, and the camera breaks.”

The audience reacts with grimaces and chuckles.

“They tell us it will be like ten minutes, and being the awesome trooper she is,” Jensen continues, flashing you a sweet smile. “She agrees to stay up there while they fix it.”

“Of course, it takes longer than ten minutes, so Jensen and I get bored!” Jared laughs, evilly rubbing his hands together.

“First of all, they decide to rub salt in the wound,” you shake your head, laughing at the memory. “They start doing lunges and star jumps, bragging about how comfortable and free they are.”

Jared and Jensen reenact their exercises, doing over-exaggerated lunges and squats, to laughter and catcalls.

“Stop it,” you say, around almost uncontrollable laughter. “You’ll split your pants.”

“Hey, watch it,” Jensen warns, pointing a finger, “my ass is not that big!”

“Your ass is just fine,” you smirk, the audience agreeing with whoops and hollers.

“You're not so bad yourself,” Jensen counters, winking.

“Hey, hey,” Richard chides, shouting over the raucous audience. “This is a family show.”

“ANYWAY,” Jared says loudly. “Then we used her as target practice, trying to throw Skittles in her mouth.”

“Let me tell you, at speed, those things are like bullets.” You explain, “I swear they chipped a tooth!”

“I’ll pay for any dental work,” Jensen confirms with a slight nod. “And to answer the question, Jared and I messed with the camera. We knew she’d get stuck up there.”

You shove his shoulder, and he teeters to one side before purposely overcorrecting himself so he’s lying across your lap.

“We still need to get him back for that one,” Alex reminds you.

Jensen scoffs, rising to sit up again. “You tried and failed. Give it up.”

You and Alex simultaneously declare, “Never!”

“Alex and I decided to team up and get them back,” you explain to the audience.

“They tried to get me,” Jensen says, “but Jared caught them, and he told me so it didn’t work. But they managed to get Jared,” Jensen begins laughing, unable to continue the story.

“All Y/N’s idea,” Alex insists, pretending to edge away from Jared.

Jared shakes his head, tongue sitting in the pocket of his cheek while he tries to look disgruntled but can’t hide the smile he tries to contain.

“It was genius,” Jensen manages around huffs of laughter.

“We got the wardrobe department to take in his shirts and shorten his pants a little each day for a month,” Alex says. “But it only took two weeks before he started complaining about gaining weight and growing taller.”

Jensen’s laughter stops, his demeanor turning completely serious. “I cannot tell you how annoying he was about it!”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Jared protests.

“Dude, you were bad!” Jensen counters, “You were googling if you could have a growth spurt after thirty. It’s all you talked about for two weeks. It was so annoying!”

“That’s me, Jared Annoying Padalecki,” he says. Then has a lightbulb moment, or perhaps a whiskey-inspired one, and jumps off the stage. Everyone laughs as they watch him cheekily shove to the front of the question queue, dropping to his knees.

“Hi, I’m Gen from Texas, and this is for Jensen,” he says in a higher pitched voice than anyone would expect could come out of the giant of a man. “I would like to know what your favorite scene to film was from the last season. And why is it the sex scene with Y/N from episode three?”

Jensen closes his eyes, face scrunched and lips pursed in mock annoyance as he flips Jared off.

“What a great question, Gen,” you chuckle, turning to stare at Jensen. “It was definitely one of my favorite scenes to film.”

“It was a fun day,” Jensen agrees. “Usually, sex scenes are super awkward and embarrassing, but it wasn’t. I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a day in the back of Baby with all this,” he gestures toward Y/N, “on top of you.”

Jared gets to his feet, using a fan's shoulder to hoist himself up, and then bends to reach the microphone. “Follow-up question,” Jared begins, “this time for Y/N. Are you free for dinner tonight? Asking for a friend.”

“Oh, for a friend,” you say, leaning to look around Jensen and at Alex. “Well, in that case, I’m free anytime, Mr Calvert.” you wink.

Jensen leans forward, pointing a warning finger at him, “No!”

“Urgh, Alex,” Jared groans, using a long leg to step back onto the stage, “you’re such a troublemaker!”

The next fan is given the microphone. “So it’s been twelve seasons; what mementos have you taken from the set?”

“Funny you should mention that,” Jared answers immediately, then sings, “Jensen’s in trouble. He stole the infamous demon Dean's red shirt.”

Jensen throws his hands up, shaking his head. “I did not! I don't know who did, but it wasn't me.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “So some ghost took it out of your trailer?”

“Maybe,” Jensen shrugs. “This is Supernatural.”

The drummer immediately punctuates his response, the hiss of the snare still echoing as Jared stands up in protest. But the audience is too quick, and they yell, “DRINK!”

“You lot are a bad influence,” Jensen tells them as you all make your way to the drinks table at the back of the stage.

You hold your microphone down while Richard pours the shots. Leaning closer to Jensen, you ask, “Are you really in trouble because of it?”

Jensen scoffs, “No, of course not. But they need it for a photo shoot, and they want to auction it off for charity. They’ve been on my ass for weeks.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Jensen asks, very much channeling Dean in his expression. “Do you know something about it?”

You wince, trying to feign innocence, but it's no good. You know you’ve been caught out, and you’ll have to give it back. “I took it,” you confess.

“What? Why?”

You can’t think of a lie quick enough. So with a nonchalant shrug, that's all for show because you don’t feel it at all, you admit, “I like it. It's a nice shirt to sleep in, and it smells like you.”

“If you want something that smells like me, you can have me!” Jensen blurts out loud enough that the mics lowered at your sides pick it up.

The fans erupt, screaming and shouting. They get to their feet and clap. Alex and Jared talk over each other, but it all becomes white noise as you stare at Jensen, who stares back.

“Screw it,” he says, and you're the only one who hears it. But everyone sees him take a small step into your space and place a gentle kiss on your lips. He pulls back enough to look at you for any reaction, and when you lightly smile, he slips a hand down your cheek and draws you in closer for a deeper kiss this time.

The crowd goes wild. Your ears will be ringing for days.

Jensen keeps the kiss PG13, but you go as far as wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. It ends too soon, but you remind yourself that you are being watched. He leans back, smiling happily. “Sorry if that was out of line.”

“The only thing that was out of line was how long it took you to do that.”

He shrugs one shoulder, tongue sitting behind his teeth. “Sorry.”

Jared tries to get control of the audience, but it doesn’t work. Jensen walks to the edge of the stage and holds up a hand, silencing them with the simple gesture.

Once it's quiet enough, he smiles, boyish and wide. “Best. Con. Ever.”

Master Lists: Dean Winchester / Main

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Tag List: @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @Pank0w / @kmc1989 / @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

#jacklesversebingo23 #jensen ackles #spn #con fic #fanfic #rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles fluff #jared padalecki #alex calvert #jensen ackles con #convention #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #fluff #cons

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midnight-mourning · 1 month ago

Text

Snow Frights & Snowball Fights

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 3❄️❄️

ITS STILL THE THIRD SOMEWHERE

I just keep having too much fun with these prompts gahhh, hope you enjoy!

Prompt: DCA's first christmas outside the pizzaplex, at reader's house maybe? At least a snow fight scene would be fun (I have never been in a snow fight so it's fun to read lols)

Word Count: 1825

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Fire extinguisher! We need the fire extinguisher!"

You cough, hand waving through the thick smoke in your kitchen, "I just, need an oven mitt. It's okay—"

"Found it!" Sun runs in frantically, trips, and faceplants on the floor beside you, as you take the burnt cookies out of the oven.

Your smoke detector blares loudly above you, fume hood fan roaring just as loudly in your ears as it—slightly—helps to remove the smoke from your kitchen.

Once everything calms down again, namely Sun, you're able to assess the damage.

Besides a tray of blackened husks you could once call cookies, not much at all. Sun wasn't banged up from his fall, and surprisingly neither was the fire extinguisher. Though, the emotional toll it had taken on both of you was much higher. And that was only the reactions you knew of, you can only imagine how Moon's feeling right now.

Every holiday event or activity you'd tried to attempt with the attendants had ended sourly. From gift-wrapping, to gift-shopping, ice-skating, tree decorating, and so on and so forth. All of it had ended in complete and utter disaster.

And now, you could add cookie baking to that ever-growing list.

You pick up one of the burnt black slabs—the result of an incorrect timer—and sigh. You were starting to feel defeated. You'd wanted this holiday season to be special, because it was their first outside the Plex. The first time you could truly share in the experience together, and so far, it'd gone horribly.

To their credit, they'd both been great sports about it. Never actively showing disappointment or being upset when things went awry. But really, you think they were just keeping up the facade for your sake.

Like now, for example.

"You know, I think with a little bit of icing these might be salvageable!" Sun puts a hand on your shoulder, take the cookie from your hand.

At that moment, it crumble into black dust, he laughs awkwardly.

You sigh again, then laugh at the absurdity of it all. "I appreciate it, Sun. But I think if I even attempted to eat one of these I'd die instantly."

You pick up the tray, and carry it over to the trash, dumping it unceremoniously.

"I'm sorry the cookies burnt." He says, sheepishly. "I should have paid better attention to the time."

You wave him off, and walk back over to him. Your arms wrap around his waist as you shake your head. "Nah, it's my fault, I should've known you'd get sucked into 'Rudolph'."

"It's just so interesting! Why is his nose so bright?" He asks, bending down to your level.

You laugh, kiss him once, then lay your head against his chest. "Your curiosity never ceases to impress me. In a good way. You've always got such a, hope, despite it all."

He holds you closer, chuckling, "You're the one who taught me that, silly."

"See, you always say that, but I've yet to have any proof of it."

Quiet for a moment.

"Moon thinks it's because you lack self-confidence."

You gasp, pulling back to look the sun-themed bot in the eye, "Rude! He was too shy to even talk to me the first three weeks I started working in the Daycare!"

"He won't admit to it but it's because he thought you were too pretty to talk to." Sun snickers.

There's a bit of binary then, and as they bicker back and forth your gaze travels over to the window. What you see surprises you greatly.

"Oh! It's snowing. First one of the season."

At this the binary stops. Sun whips to look outside, so fast that you almost lose your balance and have to break the hug, "Woah! Easy there."

But he's distracted, muttering a brief apology before hurrying over to the window. Once there, he presses both hands and his faceplate to the glass, just staring.

When he doesn't say anything, you speak up, "Um, you good bud?"

"I've never seen snow in person before." His voice is soft, utterly enthralled, "It's, it's so, calm."

You walk over to stand beside him, watching as well, "Yeah. It is."

You check the forecast and whistle, "Wow, they're calling for a foot. Good thing we went to the store when we did. Won't be leaving home anytime soon."

"What?" That snaps him out of his daze, a bit of panic evident in his tone.

You shrug, "Well, the roads will be covered, and it'll take a bit before anyone clears ours for sure. No big deal, just means I don't have to worry about work for a day or so."

He relaxes, "Oh, good. That means more time you can spend with us instead!"

"Exactly,"—you grin—"Tell you what, we'll go out in a couple hours and build a snowman or something, that'll be fun."

There's no way this can go wrong, you tell yourself. It's just frozen water. Nope, no way. This'll be perfect.

And so, after a few hours past, you bundle up and head outside.

Sun of course had no need to worry about the cold, but there was the concern of water in his system, so he was dressed in a coat and scarf as well.

It's still snowing as you exit your house, but not to the point it was uncomfortable. Just a soft, gentle snowfall.

"Alright! Let's get to work," You bend down and start collecting snow, finding that it packs easily. Perfect, this is going exactly as planned—

You realize Sun's not standing beside you.

Looking up, you find he's still standing in the doorway, half in, half out. Probably driving up your electricity bill while he's at it.

But, based on the apprehension present in his body, any annoyance you might have stays buried away.

You stop forming your snowman, only a small ball in your hand, "Is everything alright?"

"Just fine!" He calls over to you, but shrinks back inside more when a snowflake hits his face.

You frown, and he seems to notice.

He chuckles quietly. "Though, I suppose it's a little intimidating, as silly as that sounds."

You smile then, but inside your heart is twisting at the adorableness of the eight foot tall robot being afraid of snow.

There was two ways you could remedy this. One being a much gentler and smoother approach than the other.

Your brain decided on the violent option.

On instinct, you launch the snowball in your hand at him, meaning to playfully hit his jacket. But you'd underestimated your throwing capacity.

To your horror, it flies rapidly at the bot, landing square in the middle of his faceplate. Your eyes widen, hand coming up to your mouth.

Immediately you're apologizing, "Oh my gosh, Sun I'm so sorry I promise I didn't mean to—"

"What. Was that."

Confusion mixes with panic, "I—a snowball? You know, like a snowball fight? But really are you okay?"

His hand raises and in one swoop, clears off his face. Then, he bends down, scoops up a pile a snow, forming a ball in his hand.

*Poof!*

You look down, and sure enough, the remains of his snowball are on your chest. You look back up again and see he's already making another.

You start to smile, and when he glances back to you, eyes upturned crescents, you realize that he's not upset.

"I suggest you start gathering an arsenal, Starshine. Because I will not be holding back."

Your smile bleeds into a grin, and you instantly get to work. Before you can finish forming your return projectile, he's hitting you with another, and another.

As it would turn out, the Daycare Attendant would be a skilled fighter when it came to snow. You didn't stand a chance.

Sun was quicker, had better aim, and better agility than you in any shape or form. By the time you called it quits, after literal hours of going back and forth, you were covered head to toe. And cold. So very cold.

But, it was worth it. Witnessing the pure, unbridled joy he displayed as he threw volley after volley at you. Laughter near diabolical as he dominated the field over you. That was worth any amount of chill to you.

Besides, at the end, when you bitterly admitted defeat, you'd been rewarded for your efforts, handsomely you might add.

When attempting another throw at Sun—who was quickly getting closer—you trip, falling back into the snow. At the same time, your hit him with your weak attempt at a snowball, but he's so concerned about you it dazes him, causing him to stumble and fall as well.

He catches himself before landing on you, hands planted on either side of your head, eyes wide.

"Hi,"—you breathe out—"Funny seeing you here."

"Quite the coincidence."

You stare at each other for a moment.

"Alright, I give up." You put your hands up between the two of you. "You and your freakishly good aim win."

He laughs. "Your effort was valiant, Sunbeam, but unfortunately for you, it simply wasn't enough."

You huff, but it doesn't hide your smile.

"However, for being a noble competitor, and succeeding gracefully, you deserve a reward."

Before you can question what he means, Sun's leant down and placed his smile to your lips. Pulling away a moment later.

You nod, more to yourself. "Well that might've actually been worth it—"

A snowball is dropped onto your chest, disintegrating with little fanfare.

You blink, then narrow your eyes up at the Attendant. "That's a dirty trick. One I won't be falling for again."

But yet, sometime later, after time to reheat and a bit of dinner, you find yourself back outside in the dark with the former naptime attendant.

You're prepared for this round though and—whether he lets you or not—you defeat him in this battle.

Fully of adrenaline from your victory, you pull him in a half-hug and tumble to the ground together, this time however, you're the one on top.

"Does this mean I get a kiss now?" Moon asks with a chuckle.

You smirk, head held high, "I suppose. It's only fair, after all."

You bend your neck down, kissing him once. As you pull back, you're shocked to feel a bit of snow land on your head and neck.

You shake your head, snow flying and make a noise, reaching out for more of the stuff to pile on Moon's faceplate. His snickering only drives your desire to get revenge, the two of you looking like idiots as you fling snow at each other while lying on the ground.

You end up with a runny nose the next day, and a scolding from Sun, but as you sip on hot chocolate and cuddle on the couch with the—still slightly—displeased animatronic, you'd argue that it was worth it.

Definitely worth it.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

And another done! Thank you to @deviouscrackers for the request. Finding out you've never gotten to have a snowball fight made this personal /j hope I was able to capture it for you :)

If you'd like to request, you have until 12/13 OR until all slots are filled, currently 11 of 31 are taken! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

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Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

#man I am spoiling yall with the kisses huh #hehehe #alright time for bed now farewell #fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #x reader #dca fic #MM dca december #writing requests

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