#hashing his words around what he wants to say like always

[midnightbears]

Arranged marriage with Gyomei pls. Kagaya matched Gyomei with Y/N ​​for some reason and Gyomei slowly falling in love with y/n 🥲🥲❤

✿ i love you, and i want to find out what that means together.

#STARRING: himejima gyomei ft. fem!reader

#TAGS: arranged marriage. gyomei is in his early twenties in this one! set before the main events of kny. some invented lore for the sake of the story please just bear it thanks

#NOTES: hello there! thank you for your request <3 tbh I've always had this specific idea stuck in my head and you just gave me a reason to write for it LMAO i actually went kind of crazy with this fic omg i loved to write it let me know if u would like a part two! hope you like it and hope it wasn't too much LMAOOo

your existence could be hashed over with one word.

purpose.

ever since you could remember, your entire life had been mapped out for you: what to eat, what to not eat, what to like, what to dislike, what to wear, your hobbies, your pastimes, your vocabulary—everything. apparently, every inane thing that had been shoved down your throat was only done to make you a dignified woman worthy of whichever lord they married you off to.

you and your family hailed from a long line of priests and priestesses, where the girls were raised to be proper wives and shrine maidens and the boys were carefully taught the profession in hopes of serving important figures throughout japan.

you were helping your mother tend to the flowers one day when a messenger from the ubuyashiki clan—a kakushi, as you heard they were called—appeared before your temple's door, asking your father to choose and provide the clan with one of his daughters.

you were picked immediately, and you had no choice but to stand before your father, trembling, and pretend that you agreed with his decision with a serene expression on your face. you could tell this was just his way of finally getting rid of you.

in the words of your father behind closed doors, if someone couldn't be bothered to have the decency to visit the temple in person and instead sent a mere messenger to request a carefully trained shrine maiden, it was clear they didn't deserve the best of what he could offer.

you smiled, agreeing with him.

when you went to pack what little things you had, nobody was in the shared quarters; at least you would spare yourself of your sisters' cruel remarks over your father's decision. you did not have many things of your own; you packed your hairbrush, a book, and what few things you held dear.

the kakushi was waiting outside when you emerged. trying to maintain a semblance of calm, you offered him a small smile. he looked at you with curiosity but did not say anything. kindly, he allowed you a moment for a brief prayer before the buddha statue at the front of the temple. then, you were off.

no one came to say goodbye to you.

it was alright, you supposed. the only person you could think fondly of was your mother, and a barbed wire of melancholy slowly wound around your heart at the thought of not being able to part ways properly. you knew that she preferred you over her other daughters, but even so, you were aware that she would never hear the end of it from your father if she came to say her farewells. you would write to her.

you were the third of six sisters, and always, one of them was more talented than you were, just a tad bit more attractive, just a tad bit more creative, just a tad bit more charming. sure, you were well-versed in the duties of a useful spouse—okay, all your sisters were as well. what good was that when you had nothing special about you? what was it your father called you? ah, yes, mediocre.

the kakushi did not speak to you for the entire trip, for which reason you did not know. a question hung on the tip of your tongue, although you dared not ask it. at some point, he urged you to wear a blindfold and climb on his back, which you simply accepted, knowing better than to ask.

you didn't make anything out during the journey, only listening to the sound of small pebbles vibrating against the ground as he made his way up a mountain. after what felt like hours, he finally put you down, gently tugging the blindfold off you and allowing your eyes to adjust to the bright light of morning.

once you were presentable, he escorted you toward the estate entrance. you could tell he was a bit off put by the way you were just accepting things, but he didn't say anything about it.

the kakushi stopped before the towering gate of the ubuyashiki mansion and offered you a deep bow. you thanked him, and you could see him smile with his eyes before he left. another kakushi, a woman this time, escorted you toward a graveled garden, a small figure sitting by the engawa.

she knelt on the ground and bowed her head, and you did the same until she picked herself from the ground.

looking forward, you met the gaze of a boy who looked to be around the age of fifteen, with kohl black hair that sat just above his shoulders. he had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, so easy to look at, lavender tainting the irises. he had the calming smile of a buddha, and although knowing nothing about him beyond reputation, you felt at ease with him.

"i am kagaya. i trust your journey went smoothly? thank you for your patience, maiden. i apologize for not going to your temple in person, i hope your priest will forgive me. believe me, i wanted to, but i'm afraid my illness would not have allowed me to make the trip."

the boy's voice was unlike any other you had ever heard, fluid and gentle, causing a wave of reassurance to wash over you. you felt at ease immediately, as though something had just taken every burden off your shoulders and instead shrouded you in a cloud of repose.

"it was no trouble, oyakata-sama, truly." you followed this with a deep incline of your head, your own voice remaining serene and mellow, "it is an honor to be in your presence."

kagaya smiled. "your temple is of great renown. my clan has had the pleasure of counting with your priests and maidens across the centuries. there is no need for such formalities, child."

granted, you were sure you were older than him by a few years, but the way he called you 'child' was comforting, and you were not about to question him, simply keeping quiet.

"you are to marry one of my pillars, maiden. he is an honorable man, the lord of stone, i am sure the two of you will get along. he should arrive any moment now."

you willed yourself to say something, yet you simply could not. you were not the first maiden who was given to a lord for marriage, and you certainly wouldn't be the last. still, your heart did a flip at the simple notion of ending up in a similar situation as your mother, forced to produce offspring until your husband found you undesirable.

for a moment, a cold hand wrapped around your heart in fear of what that man would do with you. however, the single thought of the young boy before you lying about the pillar's honor revolted you. he was telling the truth, and if he said the stone pillar was a good man, then you had nothing to fear.

softly, the sound of footsteps reached your ears, and you turned slightly to see a towering figure approaching, his presence both imposing and serene all at once.

the man who stood before you was unlike any you had ever seen. large beyond comparison, clad in the dark robes of a uniform and a green haori. his stature was immense, with muscles that seemed chiseled from stone. he was young, with an impassive face, yet undeniably handsome. his eyes, clouded with a milky whiteness, told you that he could not see, yet he moved with a grace that belied his blindness.

"this is himejima gyomei, the stone pillar," kagaya introduced, "he has been chosen as your betrothed, and i trust that you will find solace and strength in his presence."

gyomei walked toward you, his movements slow and deliberate, his footsteps echoing throughout the garden—

your breath hitched as he knelt before you, reaching his hand out. but instead of what you expected, he pressed his palm against your cheek, his voice reverberating like a chiming bell inside a cathedral. he caressed your cheek as one would treat an injured butterfly.

"maiden beloved," he murmured, tears spilling from his eyes, "i apologize for making you wait."

the ceremony was that same day, quick and endearing.

you were married in front of oyakata-sama, his wife, and other members of the corps as witnesses. before you knew it, the wedding concluded, and your husband guided you to your new home with you by his side.

gyomei was not acting like he had been given you as some justly won right to do with as he pleased. that set your heart at ease, greatly so, and in some way, it was like he could tell, too. he was walking slowly, allowing you to keep up with his large strides. small talk filled the empty silence of the way home as he listed all the things you would assist him with.

you were to cook for him, clean the estate daily and take care of it when he was away, write letters for him and read them when he received any, and...

huh. that was it.

getting used to your routine was easier than anticipated as weeks passed, although you would be lying to yourself if you said that gyomei's patience and demeanor weren't helping you in the slightest.

he had insisted that you sleep in a separate bedroom within the estate, taking into account that despite being your husband, he was still a complete stranger to you. the very moment you reached your new home, he made sure to explicitly tell you that he did not wish to embarrass you or cause you discomfort in any way, shape, or form.

during mornings, you would naturally wake up at the crack of dawn, your training making things much easier. you would dress yourself in the robes gyomei had gifted you for your wedding and make your way to the kitchen to start a big meal for the day. you'd wake him up then, guiding him to the kitchen to share breakfast together.

most of the time, you ate in silence, although you did not mind at all. after that, you would wash dishes, and he trained. the estate was not that big, so having to sweep the floor or dust the shelves daily did not bother you, and you instead found comfort in the repetitive routine. you would finish quite swiftly and urge gyomei inside again for tea time during noon.

you tried to entertain yourself as best as possible during the afternoons and evenings. usually, you would find yourself tending to a small garden you'd created when you arrived. your husband would sometimes join you, captivated by the sweet smell of the flowers and the sensation of the earth beneath his fingertips. you would explain what the flowers looked like and how they were meant to be taken care of, and he, in turn, basked in your every word.

gardening duty was one of the things you enjoyed most back at the temple, and since no one else was willing to get their hands dirty, you were the maiden who would regularly take care of the flowers.

you bought flower seeds during your first trip to the market in the nearby town and took the time to introduce yourself to as many people as possible. the locals were very kind to you, and as you started frequenting the shops more and more, you were always being greeted by folks who wished you and your husband the best.

as months passed, your relationship with gyomei deepened in ways you had never expected. the initial tension and clumsiness of living with a stranger began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity and comfort.

gyomei, true to his word, respected your boundaries and gave you space to adjust at your own pace. however, small gestures of care and affection started to seep into your daily life. he would often leave freshly picked flowers from your garden by your bedroom door, their vibrant colors and sweet fragrance greeting you first thing in the morning. sometimes, he would assist you with household chores, his presence making the mundane tasks feel lighter and more enjoyable.

he began to pay attention to the little things, like how you offered wounded slayers who stumbled upon the estate a fresh meal and a place to redress their wounds, or how you fed the cats mingling around your shared home every single night, even noticing that you had taken the time to name them and remember everyone.

the town's people, too, played a part in your growing closeness. they would often remark on how harmonious you and gyomei seemed together, their kind words fortifying the bind that tied you together. you started to see the way gyomei interacted with them and how much respect the people had for him—and you couldn't help but admire him more each day.

your conversations, though initially skimpy and shallow, began to flow more naturally. gyomei's deep voice would rumble through stories of his past with the children of the orphanage, his experiences as a hashira, and the lessons he had learned along the way. you, in turn, shared snippets of your life at the temple, your family, your dreams, and your fears. it was through these conversations that you realized how much you had in common despite your different backgrounds.

anyone with a pair of working eyes would see it, or, at least, anyone who had known for at least once in their lifetime what a soul-stirring connection with another human felt like. you found comfort in his presence, seeking him out like a moth to a flame, and he, in yours, only wanted you to tend to his wounds after missions, fix his haori, or wait by himself outside just so he could pray by your side.

eventually, it got to a point where the separate bedrooms became less of a necessity and more of a formality. you often found yourself falling asleep together in the living room after long conversations or shared moments of silence. whenever you did manage to part ways, you always lingered by your door, a dreamy smile encasing your lips.

you could not deny yourself anymore. you were the happiest you had been in years.

one evening, as you both sat for dinner, the familiar quiet enveloping you like a warm blanket, gyomei's voice broke through the tranquility.

"i love you."

the bunch of food you were going to bring into your mouth splattered into the bowl again with a messy splash. oh. oh my god. you whipped your head toward your husband, who stared at you with a soft expression on his face.

"you do not have to say it back if you do not feel the same, but i wanted you to know." then, gyomei went back to chewing his food as if he had not said what he had just said.

"why?"

gyomei shifted his head in your direction with a worried expression, your teary tone and doddering heartbeat doing nothing to mitigate his apprehension. he tried to reach for you, but you jerked away from him. he could tell that whatever you were feeling was not directed toward him, but still, it pained him greatly to know you were suffering.

"g-gyomei, i—"

your hands were shaking, and he reached for them to trace your skin with the pads of his thumbs. he opened his mouth, but you beat him to it as you keeled over, shoulders trembling as sobs left your mouth, your usual calmness thrown out the window.

"y-you said that you wouldn't embarrass me! there is nothing special about me. what is it about me that you could possibly love? you're always so good to me," you were throwing word vomit at this point, and the worst part was you did not even know where it was coming from, "i haven't done anything to receive your affection! i'm just doing the things i'm supposed to do..."

tears slid down his cheeks before he could stop them, and he leaned forward to pull you into his embrace. your body completely froze, an unknown emotion taking over. gyomei had never initiated contact before. most of the time, you had to be the one to grab his hand or tug his collar.

"my little maiden... you have no idea how precious you are to me," gyomei murmured, his voice impossibly gentle and firm. he held you close, his large, comforting presence grounding you as your sobs began to subside. "you see yourself through the harsh lens of your own eyes, but i see the truth of your heart with my own. your unconditional kindness, your strength, your sincerity—these are just some of the reasons i love you."

his words seeped into your cold heart, slowly quieting the tempest inside. you couldn't understand how someone as incredible, kind, and powerful as gyomei could see such worth in you, but the sincerity in his voice and the warmth of his embrace made you want to believe him.

"you don't have to prove your worth to me or anyone," he continued, his voice alleviating your wounded spirit. "you are enough, just as you are. your presence in my life is a blessing, and i am grateful for you every single day."

"gyomei," you whispered, your voice trembling but no longer with fear. "i… i love you too. i was just scared. scared that i wasn't enough for you."

he smiled softly, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "you are more than enough, my love. and i will spend the rest of all my lifetimes showing you just how much you mean to me."

© midnightbears on tumblr, july 2024. please do not repost to another platform, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

[capuccinodoll]

The boyfriend act, part 2: "The one with the purring traitor" Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!reader

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter summary: You and Frankie hash out the details of your fabricated story, all while enduring the blatant betrayal of your own cat and your brother’s relentless teasing. WC: 8.4K

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so happy to see how much you enjoyed the first chapter of TBA! Your comments mean the world to me—I absolutely love reading them, and I hope you love this part just as much <3 let me know what u think ;) Don't forget to lmk if u want to be added to the tag list, and follow capuccinodollupdates for notifications <3

Friday, August 9th. One day before the party.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the sound breaking the quiet of your bedroom. You set your book down, its pages splaying open across the blanket, and rolled onto your side to grab your phone. The screen lit up.

[Unknown number]: Outside.

You exhaled sharply, a breath that sounded louder than it needed to. Your stomach twisted, a faint ripple of nerves spreading through you. 

Five minutes later, Frankie stood in the center of your living room, his hands planted firmly on his hips. His brows were drawn together, his expression impatient as he watched you move around the kitchen. The faint smell of tea leaves and honey filled the air as you poured hot water into your mug.

“You don’t seem to be in much of a rush,” he said finally, his voice carrying the faintest edge of irritation.

You glanced at him briefly, your hand stirring the tea as if to say he could wait.

“What’s the rush? The party isn’t until tomorrow.”

Frankie didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked around the room, his eyes flicking to the books stacked on the coffee table, the blanket draped haphazardly over the arm of the couch, the quiet clutter of a space lived in but not always tidy. He shifted his weight, his boots scuffing lightly against the floor, the impatience practically radiating off him.

You blew on your tea, meeting his gaze over the rim of your mug.

“You look like you’re about to explode. Sit down, you’re making me nervous pacing around like that,” you said as you walked past him, your hand cradling the warm mug. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?”

Frankie hesitated for a moment, then dropped into the couch across from you. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, making it stick up at odd angles.

“What do you have that isn’t hot?”

You settled into the couch, the mug resting on the coffee table in front of you. The surface was cluttered with your used stickynotes, a few receipts, coasters, and an old pen you didn’t remember leaving there.

“Water, iced tea, a couple of cans of soda.”

Frankie leaned back, only to be interrupted by Mr. Darcy, your perpetually attention-seeking cat. The tabby appeared from the side of the couch, his soft meow high-pitched and delicate as he rubbed himself against Frankie’s leg. You frowned, betrayed.

Frankie leaned down, his hand immediately stroking the cat’s fur, and Mr. Darcy responded with a loud purr.

“What kind of soda?” 

You rolled your eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know my guest was royalty. Next time, send a list of your preferences in advance, princess.”

He lifted his head and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning closer with an expression that was almost amused. Almost.

“I just asked what fucking flavor. Relax.”

“Coke.”

“I’ll take one.”

You stood with an exaggerated sigh, letting it linger in the air, but refrained from commenting on his lack of manners. The word please seemed allergic to his vocabulary, but you didn’t feel like pointing it out. Not today.

When you returned, you set the can of Coke down on the glass coaster on the table and took your seat again. Frankie reached for the drink, his fingers brushing the cold metal as he popped it open. The hiss of carbonation filled the quiet, mingling with the soft hum of Mr. Darcy’s purring at his feet.

“Okay, tell me about them,” you said, your tone clipped and businesslike, as if the two of you were about to negotiate the terms of a merger. You folded your hands neatly on your lap and fixed your gaze on him. Frankie, meanwhile, was focused on the can of Coke he’d just opened. He tilted it to his lips, taking a long sip. The way his throat moved as he swallowed made you glance away, irritated for no good reason.

When he finally set the can down on the coaster, he looked up at you.

“My mother’s name is Helena. She’s kind, easygoing. And observant. She’ll be watching us like a hawk the entire time. She already has her doubts about... all this.” He gestured vaguely, as if to encompass the entirety of the situation. “So we can’t get sloppy.”

You leaned back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“That’s going to be difficult, don’t you think?”

“Well, you’ll have to cooperate.”

You scoffed, an expression of mock offense crossing your face.

“I have to cooperate?”

“Yes. You.”

“Believe it or not, Francisco,” you said, leaning forward ,“I’m very nice. Easy to get along with. Mothers adore me.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was suppressing a laugh.

“That may be,” he said, his tone skeptical. “But I can’t risk even one slip in this... circus. If we let our mutual... our mutual thing show, she’ll catch on immediately. Believe me.”

You mirrored his arched eyebrow, matching his energy.

“Fine. Just be nice to me, and I’ll be nice to you. I promise.” You let the words hang for a moment, watching as he relaxed just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. Then you added, sweetly, “I just want you to remember, at all times, that no matter how nice and lovely I am, it’s all a lie.”

Frankie leaned back, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “Noted.”

The he exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes as if to physically expel his frustration. His hand moved to his neck, fingers brushing the skin in an absentminded gesture, like he was trying to ground himself. Mr. Darcy, ever the opportunist, leapt onto the couch beside him, his sleek tail flicking against Frankie’s arm. The cat’s head butted into him in what looked like a gentle plea for attention. You watched the scene for a moment, torn between amusement and suspicion, your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Just get a grip, okay? You can’t react to everything I say like it’s a personal attack.”

You arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly with your cup in hand.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was preparing for some kind of intervention.

“You have to behave yourself too. Sometimes, you don’t even realize how nasty you’re being. Maybe it flies under the radar for most people, but if your mom is as observant as you claim—and she’s your mother, so obviously she knows you well—she’s going to pick up on all those little micro-attitudes. Immediately.”

You delivered the last word like a verdict, your tone carrying the weight of someone speaking to a particularly stubborn child. To your surprise, Frankie didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded slowly, his expression calm, even thoughtful.  

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Good,” you replied, watching him carefully as you lifted your cup to your mouth, the faint steam curling around your face. You let the warm liquid sit on your tongue, satisfied—for now—that you might have just come to an agreement with the most impossible person you’d ever met.

Frankie began describing his family in broad strokes, filling in the blanks with enough detail that you felt as if you were piecing together a portrait of his life. You listened intently, committing everything to memory like a student preparing for a crucial exam. 

Helena, his mother, was the first to come up. She was fifty-nine, a literature teacher with a reputation for being kind but quietly persuasive. Frankie mentioned that she had a particular way of asking questions that felt more like peeling back layers than making polite conversation. She still lived in Austin, sharing a house with his youngest sister, Maia, ever since his father passed away almost two years ago. That detail hung in the air for a beat longer than the others, but he moved on quickly.

Luna, his oldest sister, was next. She was forty, an interior designer based in Boston, and from Frankie’s tone, it was clear she had a strong presence in the family. “Kind, funny, a little overbearing,” he said, his mouth twitching slightly, as if recalling an incident that perfectly illustrated her character. She was married to Henry, a wealthy architect fifteen years her senior. Frankie made a point to say that Henry was a good man—honest and big-hearted—and seemed to mean it. Together, they had a ten-year-old son named Jamie.

Sofía came next, the middle sister. She was thirty-eight and owned a flower shop. Frankie described her as friendly and warm but also hinted at a guardedness beneath her cheerful exterior. She lived in Austin with her sixteen-year-old daughter, Grace, a name that carried an air of quiet reverence when he said it. You wondered what Grace was like, if she carried more of her mother’s warmth or her uncle’s sharp edges. For the sake of her, you hoped for the first option.

Finally, there was Maia. Twenty-nine, a graphic designer, and still living at home with Helena. Frankie hesitated before speaking about her, his expression shifting slightly. “Of all of them,” he said, almost reluctantly, “she’s the most complicated.” Not because she was difficult or unpleasant—quite the opposite. Maia, he explained, was the kind of person who could see through walls, so perceptive it was almost unnerving. “She’ll figure us out if we’re not careful,” he warned, his tone heavy with certainty. 

By the time he finished, you felt like you’d been handed a dossier. Each name and detail was a thread you knew you’d need to hold tightly. You nodded as he spoke, mentally sorting the names and faces into a map of relationships you’d need to navigate. This was going to be more than a performance—it was going to be a test.

Frankie exhaled, slapping his palm against his thigh with a finality that felt rehearsed, like he was drawing a line under the conversation.

“That’s it, I think,” he said, his tone flat as his eyes lingered on you. 

But you weren’t ready to let him off the hook. Squinting slightly, you folded your arms across your chest and leaned back into the couch.

“And what about you?” you asked, tilting your head as if that might give you a different angle on him. 

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know me,” he replied with unearned confidence. 

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, letting the sound punctuate the silence before glancing away. Amusement tugged at the corners of your lips as you brought your gaze back to him.

“I don’t know anything about you. All I know is what little Santi’s told me, what I’ve overheard here and there... that’s it.”

“That’s something,” Frankie interjected, leaning back slightly as he crossed his arms, lifting his chin with a smugness that made your fingers itch to knock him down a peg. “Go on, then. Tell me what you know.”

His expression dared you, and you met it with a smirk of your own.

“Fine,” you said, sitting up straighter and pressing your lips together in mock seriousness. “You’re in your thirties, you live alone, you’re a pilot, you like beer... Oh, and apparently, you can devour a whole burger and fries in under ten minutes.”

Frankie snorted, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to laugh or call you ridiculous. He held your gaze, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to wait you out. But the smirk stayed on your face, unwavering, and eventually, he sighed. 

“I’m thirty-five,” he said finally, his voice measured and calm, as though reciting facts from a resume. “I live alone, yeah. Used to be in the CAG, but I retired a few years ago. Personal reasons. Now I’m teaching pilots-in-training over at the JPA.”

“Oh, right, I already knew that. That’s where you met Santi, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“And what were you doing there? He never told me much.”

“I’ll tell you some other time,” he said, sounding either annoyed or uncomfortable—it was hard to tell. “Do you know what CAG stands for?”

"Tell me."

“Combat Application Group,” Frankie said, his tone steady, measured. “Do you know what that is?”

You arched an eyebrow, shaking your head. 

His lips curled into a faint, humorless smile.

“Then they’re doing their job right. They change the name every so often. Some people know it as Delta Force.” He paused, his eyes searching yours, as if testing how much you could handle. “I was part of the CAG for most of my military career.”

For the first time, you found yourself leaning forward, your interest genuine, your usual quips momentarily silenced. Frankie seemed to notice, his expression softening slightly, though the seriousness never left his face. 

“Why did you retire? What happened?”

For a fleeting second, his eyebrows twitched.

“Personal issues,” he said again.

You exhaled through your nose, sitting back slightly.

“I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. Shouldn’t I know that?” 

He sighed. Shaking his head just enough to let you know he wasn’t budging, he replied:

“No one in my family is going to ask you about it.”

You studied him, your eyes narrowing slightly, searching for any crack in the armor he wore so carefully. But Frankie didn’t flinch. His shoulders remained squared, his gaze firm, the set of his mouth resolute. Whatever lay behind the personal thing was locked away, and it was clear he wasn’t going to hand you the key. 

After a few more seconds of silence, you nodded, more to yourself than to him.

"Okay, I get it,” you said with a sigh, letting your gaze fall to your hands resting in your lap. For a moment, you traced invisible patterns on your palm, your tone edging toward resignation. “What do you want me to tell you about me?” 

“Nothing. I know enough.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” 

“I’m not trying to be mean. Santi has told me what’s necessary. I know enough to get by.”

“Oh, really? Enlighten me,” you said, folding your arms across your chest, your tone daring. 

Frankie gave you a slow, confident smile, as if he’d been preparing for this moment.

“You’re twenty-nine years old. Santi’s your only brother. You studied Literature, and you’ve been running your dad’s bookshop for, what, six years now?” He paused briefly, letting the words settle before continuing. “You like cats. Movies—especially horror movies. You love the cold, which is ironic since you’re from Austin, where it’s basically summer all year. And you’re... well, I wouldn’t describe you as outdoorsy or... or adventurous.” 

He glanced at you with a faint smirk just as your expression twisted in a mixture of surprise and mild disgust. His hand dropped to pet Mr. Darcy, who had curled up beside him, purring softly. “Oh, and your cat’s name is Darcy.”

“Mr. Darcy," you corrected him. "Santi told you all that?” 

Frankie shook his head, his focus still on your pet, his hand moving in lazy strokes along Mr. Darcy’s back.

“He didn’t tell me outright. But he let it be known. You just have to listen.” 

There was something about his tone that irked you—a subtle but undeniable air of superiority, as if he’d decoded your entire existence from a handful of anecdotes. You studied him for a moment longer, debating whether to challenge him further, but Mr. Darcy’s contented purring seemed to deflate your frustration. For now. 

“Well, I… Well,” you faltered, unsure of what to say. "Okay, I was thinking, what should I wear to the party?"

“Something nice. Not too fancy. But cute. You know, approachable."

"Sure," you muttered, feeling the weight of his gaze on you as he smoothed a hand over the cat’s fur.

"You have to make a good impression. But not too good. You need to seem... normal. Forgettable, even. Be nice, but don’t go overboard."

"What’s the point, then? I thought my job was to be the awesome girlfriend. Isn’t that what you wanted?"

Frankie leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out, and gave a slow shake of his head like you’d just said something profoundly silly.

"Yes, but don’t overdo it. I don’t need my family asking me about you for weeks after. Tomorrow’s the first and only time they’ll see you, so what’s the point?"

"What a waste," you whispered to yourself, but loud enough for him to catch. “But fine, your family, your rules. So, what should I bring your mom as a gift?”

Frankie waved his hand dismissively.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ve got that covered."

“So you’ve thought of everything, huh?” you said, letting a touch of mockery creep into your voice. “I didn’t realize this was such a big deal to you.”

Frankie snorted. "If this is what it takes to stop them from setting me up with every woman they know, trust me, I’m going all in. No room for half-measures here."

He scratched his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sweeping over the room, taking in the familiar clutter of your living space, before a long yawn interrupted the silence.

“But why do they even care so much about you having a girlfriend? I mean, I get it—you’re, let’s say, not the easiest person to tolerate, and small talk probably feels like torture for you. But I didn’t have you pegged as the kind of guy who needs his mom to play matchmaker,” you said, voice dripping with just the right mix of sarcasm and curiosity as you tilted your head.

“That’s a bold comment coming from someone who had to invent a fake boyfriend because her ex, who dumped her for someone else, invited her to his wedding.”

Fair. That stung, but you couldn't bring yourself to be genuinely angry. Instead, you let out a small, wry smile, your ego only slightly bruised.

Frankie continued, unfazed by the fact that he had clearly made his point. “And I have no problem getting someone,” he said, stretching his legs out casually. “I just don’t want to. I don’t feel like dating anyone, much less getting romantically involved. But of course, they don’t get that. They think I need to settle down, find a woman, all that ‘commitment’ shit.”

For a brief moment, you let your mind wander, imagining Frankie next to someone. His type, you wondered. What would she look like? Would she resemble you in any way? Definitely not, you thought. You hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat, and then asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though a part of you was genuinely curious.

“And why don’t you want to date anyone? You’re not one of those guys with an eternal commitment problem, are you?”

Frankie took a moment to think about it. He leaned back, looking almost lost in thought, his eyes distant for a second. Then, in a flash, Mr. Darcy leapt onto his lap, pulling him back into the present moment with his typical disregard for anything that resembled personal space. Frankie shifted a little, adjusting the cat so it was comfortably curled on him.

“My last relationship didn’t end well,” he said suddenly, his voice unexpectedly serious. “We were together for about a year and a half. She broke up with me a little over a year ago. It wasn’t exactly my best moment, but her reason was that I wasn’t what she needed.” He paused, his gaze unfocused for a second, as if reliving the memory. “I tried to tell her I’d make the changes, that I really wanted to, but she didn’t care. So we broke up. And then, like two weeks later, I found out she’d been cheating on me with some guy from work—does that sound good enough for you?”

You blinked, processing it all, and felt a slight pang of sympathy, which you hadn’t expected.

“Well, that sucks,” you said, glancing down at the floor, feeling a bit awkward. You bit your lower lip, then looked back at him, unable to hide the trace of empathy in your voice. “But it makes sense now... I think."

Mr. Darcy, seemingly done with his intrusion, hopped off Frankie’s lap and sprawled on the floor instead, rolling onto his back in that exaggerated, dramatic way cats do when they’re probably overheating. His belly was exposed, a show of complete vulnerability.

"Yeah. Well. I guess," Frankie said, leaning forward as if the weight of his own words had just fully settled in. He rested his elbows on his knees and interlocked his fingers, his hands becoming a tight knot as if trying to physically hold everything together. Then something seemed to click in his mind. He looked up at you, the shift in his expression almost imperceptible. “Have you talked to Santi about this?”

You furrowed your brow, a little thrown off by the question.

"No, I thought you were going to tell him."

Frankie shook his head. "I didn’t tell him anything. I thought you were going to tell him."

You clicked your tongue, trying to shake the odd tension settling in your chest.

"We should tell him, don’t you think?" Your voice was sharper than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. "Although I'm sure he'll think this is a bad idea."

When you opened the door, Santi’s smile appeared instantly, like the sun breaking through clouds. He pulled you into a hug, enveloping you in that unmistakable warmth only a brother could give. It was absurd how much you’d missed him, considering you’d seen him just two days ago. But that was the thing about Santi—he had this way of making you feel like everything was fine, or at least like it could be.

When he let go, his smile lingered. But then his gaze shifted past you, toward the living room, where Frankie stood by the couch, arms awkwardly crossed, caught somewhere between waiting and retreating.

Santi’s expression changed so fast it was almost comical—his smile collapsed into confusion, his eyebrows pulling together, eyes widening like someone had yanked a curtain back too quickly.

“Frankie?” he said, his voice pitching upward in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” His gaze flicked from Frankie to you and back again, his tone laced with the unspoken demand for an explanation. “What happened?” He stepped forward, clapping a hand on Frankie’s shoulder, nudging him as if to make sure he was real.

“Hey, man,” Frankie said, managing a small smile as he accepted Santi’s hug. His voice was casual, but you could feel the tension beneath it, like a thread pulled too tight.

Your stomach knotted, the weight of the moment pressing into you. This was a mistake. You shouldn’t have agreed to Frankie’s deal, not like this, not without more thought. But it was too late to undo it now, wasn’t it? The pieces were already in motion, and there was no way to unring a bell.

Half an hour later, Santiago was sitting in the couch across from the two of you, his arms folded tightly over his chest, his expression shifting between disbelief and reluctant curiosity. He hadn’t spoken in a while, too busy digesting everything you’d just explained. When he finally did, his words cut through the silence like a whip.

“That’s fucking ridiculous. Are you crazy?” he asked, though his incredulous smile suggested he thought maybe you were joking.

You and Frankie were perched on opposite ends of the couch, as if a force field separated you, like your bodies were mutually allergic to the idea of being any closer. Frankie had his arms resting on his knees, his hands clasped together, his gaze fixed somewhere in the middle distance. You sat with your elbow propped on the armrest, your cheek resting against your hand, trying to look nonchalant.

“Do you really think this is going to work?” Santiago asked, shaking his head.

“It’s going to work,” you said, the firmness in your voice at odds with the knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “It’s not that complicated. Harry’s already met Frankie, so that part’s fine. We go to the wedding, stay a little while, and then leave. Tomorrow? Same thing. We show up, I do my forgettable bit, and then we’re out. Easy.”

Santiago raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

“¿Easy? Your mom knows me, man,” he said, turning to Frankie with an accusatory tilt of his head. “You don’t think it’s going to be complicated if she thinks you’re dating my sister?”

“I’m not planning on telling her she’s your sister,” Frankie said. He sat up straighter, his hands tightening into fists briefly before he relaxed them again. “This is a one-time thing. I promise you, it’s not going to lead to trouble. It’s just a favor. A transaction. Nothing more.”

“And what happens when they run into each other again?” Santiago asked, his voice rising slightly as he gestured between the two of you.

“How likely is that, Santi?” you shot back, your brow furrowing in irritation.

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward like he had you cornered.

“My wedding is in a few months, smartass. Frankie’s mom is invited. What’s your plan then?”

The room fell into a charged silence. Oh.

You hadn’t thought of that. Neither had Frankie, apparently, because when you turned your head, you found him looking at you for the first time since this entire mess had started. For one fleeting moment, your eyes met, a shared look of complicity—and, more importantly, desperation.

“Of course, you didn’t think of that,” Santi said, his voice cutting through the growing tension like a whip. He dragged a hand across his forehead, closing his eyes as if summoning the patience to deal with you both. When he looked up again, his expression was pure exasperation.

“God, you guys seriously make me desperate. Are you two ever going to be normal with each other? First, I have to put up with years of your petty, hateful attitudes, and now this?” He gestured between you and Frankie as if the very sight of you sitting there made him tired. “Do you want to kill me? Is that the plan? Seriously, I’m asking—do you both want me dead?”

The sheer absurdity of his words made you laugh, even though you tried to swallow it.

“Oh my God, Santi, you’re so dramatic,” you said, shaking your head, though you were half-smiling.

“Dramatic?” he repeated, incredulous.

“Hey, man, look,” Frankie cut in, like someone trying to defuse a bomb. He leaned forward slightly, his hands open, his tone edging toward apologetic. “I promise I’ll fix it. I’ll tell them she’s your sister—no big deal. And then I’ll come up with something to explain how we ‘broke up’ on the best possible terms. No drama, no mess, okay? I swear.”

You nodded quickly, eager to latch onto his plan.

“Exactly. This can stay simple, we’ll just say we broke up over something normal. Totally amicable, decided to stay friends. Easy.” Your tone softened as you leaned toward him, more pleading now. “Really, Santi. Please, please don’t get mad.”

Santi let out a heavy, theatrical sigh, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just tipped his head back and closed his eyes like he was praying for patience.

“I’m not mad,” he said finally, though his tone suggested he might not be entirely convinced of that. His eyes opened, and he looked at you with something between disbelief and reluctant amusement. “I’m just surprised. Out of all the people in the world, you and Frankie are the ones pretending to date?” He let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Well,” you said, rolling your eyes as the irritation bubbled up. “It’s not like we planned this. I never thought I’d run into Harry in the middle of fucking nowhere. Besides, this wouldn’t have even happened if you—” you jabbed a finger in Santi’s direction, “—had gone looking for me in Dallas instead of sending Frankie. Or, I don’t know, if you’d given me a proper warning. I could’ve found another way home.”

Santi’s eyebrows shot up, his hand flying to his chest as if you’d physically shoved him.

“Oh, now this is my fault?” he asked, his voice dripping with incredulity. He pointed to himself for emphasis, his jaw tightening like he was trying not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the accusation.

Next to you, Frankie snorted, shaking his head in that infuriatingly smug way he did when he thought he was being clever. You turned sharply toward him, glaring.

“Do you have something to say, Francisco?” 

Santiago let out a breathy, humorless laugh, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

Frankie, meanwhile, scratched his chin, clearly deliberating how to phrase whatever was on his mind without making things worse. Or maybe he was just stalling, dragging out the moment for the fun of it.

“Yeah. First of all, I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove to this Harry guy. He’s marrying someone else, isn’t he? I doubt he cares whether or not you have a boyfriend.”

“Ah, right, 'cause you’re the paragon of honesty, aren’t you?” you shot back, the heat rising in your chest now threatening to spill out.

“Sure,” Frankie said with an infuriating nod, leaning back slightly as if to make room for whatever you were about to throw at him next.

You leaned toward him, unable to resist. “It’s not like you made up a girlfriend or anything, right? Tell me, Francisco, wouldn’t it have been easier to just act like a real man and tell your mom you don’t want to be with anyone? Instead of, you know, lying like a coward? Or is that too scary for you?”

Frankie laughed then, a low, sarcastic sound that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He shifted closer, leaning in until his face was just inches from yours, his dark eyes gleaming with something sharp and taunting.

“He’s with someone else. He doesn't care about you. Get over it—”

“No one loves you—"

“Okay, fuckin' stop it!” Santiago shot up from his seat, his hands landing firmly on his hips as he stared at you with an expression that teetered between disbelief and outright despair. He shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That’s how you’re going to convince people you’re together? What’s the plan tomorrow, huh? What are you going to do when people actually talk to you? This isn’t even remotely believable.”

“I know how to act,” you shot back, crossing your arms as you leaned into the challenge. You tilted your head, trying for a smug expression, though the heat rising to your cheeks probably undermined it.

Frankie let out a laugh beside you.

“No, you don’t.” 

“Sure I do,” you retorted, fixing him with a defiant look. “You’ll see tomorrow, Francisco. I’ll be super—”

“You almost shit yourself at the diner the other day, what are you even talking about? I saved you—”

“Oh my God, stop!” Santi cut in, throwing his hands up in a desperate plea for silence. He made a horizontal motion with his hands, like a referee calling a foul. “Stand up. Now.”

“Why?” you asked, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Just. Stand. Up.” Santi said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated, glancing at Frankie as if he might somehow explain what was going on. He was already on his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, like he didn’t particularly want to comply but knew better than to argue.

With a resigned sigh, you rose from your spot, the tension in your shoulders apparent even in the way you stood. The second you moved, Mr.Darcy wasted no time, sliding into the space you’d just vacated.

Santiago leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression unnervingly calm. He watched you both like he was observing a particularly amusing experiment, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smirk.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, his tone almost conversational. “Kiss each other.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

Frankie, equally caught off guard, tilted his head toward Santi. “Sorry, what did you just say?”

“Kiss,” Santi repeated, his voice louder this time, like he was explaining something to a particularly dense child. He gestured between the two of you. “Frankie, kiss her.”

“Absolutely not,” you said immediately.

“Are you crazy?” Frankie added, shaking his head vehemently, his face scrunching up like the very idea was offensive.

Santiago raised his eyebrows, his calm demeanor giving way to something more pointed.

“What, you didn’t think this through? How the fuck are you planning to convince anyone you’re dating if you can’t even manage a little kiss?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, your brain struggling to process the absurdity of what he was suggesting. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Frankie’s jaw tighten, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Meanwhile, Santi seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. There was an unmistakable glint of amusement in his eyes, his gaze darting between you and Frankie like he was watching the climax of a particularly entertaining play.

He was savoring this—your awkwardness, your obvious discomfort. To him, this wasn’t just funny; it was justice. A kind of poetic payback for the years of chaos and petty feuding you and Frankie had inflicted on him. The sheer satisfaction on his face was infuriating, but also, somehow, undeniably deserved.

“Well?” he prompted, raising his hands in mock encouragement. “Go on, lovebirds. Show me how convincing this great plan of yours is.”

You glanced at Frankie, hoping for some sign he was going to end this absurdity. But he wasn’t looking at you, or at Santiago, or even at the floor like a normal person. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, his teeth dragging over his bottom lip like he was physically restraining himself from speaking. His hands rested on his hips, fingers tapping idly against his belt, while his foot shifted incessantly, a nervous rhythm you couldn’t unhear.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

“Is this fun for you?” you asked Santi, your voice sharp enough to cut through his amusement.

He barely suppressed a laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he gave a little shrug.

“Of course it is. Look at you two. You can’t even conceive of the idea of a teeny, tiny, innocent little kiss.” He paused, his expression shifting into something mockingly thoughtful. “You know, Fish,” he added, turning his attention to Frankie, “your mom invited me to her birthday tomorrow.”

That got Frankie’s attention. His head snapped toward Santiago, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“It’s a shame,” Santi continued, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated regret. “But I can’t go. I’d love to see the two of you embarrass yourselves in front of an audience. That would’ve been a real treat.”

Frankie clicked his tongue, clearly irritated. “Come on, man, don’t start.”

But before Santiago could respond, you interrupted.

“Kiss me,” you said, turning to Frankie with a tone that was less a request and more a threat.

Santiago let out a breathy laugh, stifling the full force of his amusement but not entirely succeeding.

Frankie looked at you like you’d just suggested a double homicide, his brows lifting high enough to crease his forehead.

“Come on,” you repeated, stepping closer to him. You let your arms drop to your sides in what you hoped was a disarming gesture, but Frankie didn’t budge. His expression didn’t soften, either—in fact, it somehow got worse. He was looking at you like you’d offered him a plate of raw sewage.

“Come on, Fish,” Santi chimed in, his voice laced with mock encouragement. “One little kiss and that’s it. What’s the big deal?”

You stayed where you were, holding Frankie’s gaze, your jaw tightening as you willed him to just get this over with. But he remained firmly rooted in place, his face still twisted in disgust.

And then something shifted in your chest. It was small at first, but it grew quickly—an anger, sharp and undeniable. What the hell was wrong with him? Was the idea of kissing you that horrifying? It wasn’t like this was real. It wasn’t like it meant anything.

You snorted, shaking your head as determination overtook you. Without giving it another second of thought, you crossed the space between you in a single, decisive motion.

“Wait, what the fuck are you—” Frankie started, but his words cut off as your hands gripped the sides of his face and your lips crashed against his.

The kiss lasted no more than three seconds, but it felt like an eternity. His lips were softer than you’d expected, warm and surprisingly still. Your eyes stayed firmly shut, as if that could somehow make the situation less mortifying.

When you pulled back, it was abrupt, almost violent. You jerked away from him and immediately crossed your arms again, your defenses snapping back into place.

Frankie stood there, completely still, his face frozen in an expression of shock. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes were unfocused, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“It’s not that hard, Francisco,” you said, your tone clipped as you turned away and sat back down on the couch, this time right next to Mr. Darcy. “I’m a woman, not an alien. It’s not so terrible.”

Your brother was staring at you, his expression a mixture of delight and disbelief. For a moment, he said nothing, just taking in the scene like it was the best entertainment he’d had in years. Then, with a wide grin, he walked over to Frankie and delivered a solid punch to his stomach.

Frankie clicked his tongue in annoyance, snapping out of his daze with a low groan.

"I’m already regretting this," he muttered then, his voice low but sharp, as he turned his back to you and Santi. 

“You can’t regret it now,” you called after him, your tone sharper than you meant. It was enough to stop him. He turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see his face. He didn’t look angry, not exactly. There was no sharpness, no fire. Just this quiet disappointment.

“A deal’s a deal,” you said. "You were the one who insisted. Or have you forgotten that already?”

“No,” he said, a little too quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground. “Of course not. I just—” He paused, rubbed the back of his neck. “We didn’t think it through.”

From his spot against the wall, Santi let out a low whistle, arms crossed as he watched the exchange unfold like it was a show he’d seen before.

“Yeah we did,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “The issue isn’t that. The issue is you chickening out. You were fine until Santi showed up.”

“Oh, now it’s my fault again?” Santi asked.

You shrugged, noncommittal.

“Okay, well,” Santi said, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “Do what you want. It’s none of my business. Just—” he gestured vaguely, like he was brushing something away, “be a grown-up about it. And don’t screw it up, yeah? Because, honestly, of the three of us, I’m the one who has to deal with your shit.”

“We won’t cause trouble,” Frankie said, his voice quieter now but clear. He glanced at you, then at his best friend. “You have my word. I’ll keep it together. I'll be respectful. No bullshit. I promise.”

Santi nodded, his mouth twitching into the faintest smile. He reached out and clapped Frankie on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Sure, man. I trust you. Just—” He laughed lightly, his smile widening. “Don’t be such a child.”

He turned to you then, something knowing in his gaze, before looking back at Frankie. His laugh came deeper this time, warm and unguarded.

“Oh, I know exactly how this is going to end,” he said, shaking his head.

He didn’t stay much longer, mentioning something about dinner plans with Yovanna and promising to call tomorrow. The air felt lighter as he left, like he’d taken the weight of the moment with him, leaving only the two of you standing in its wake.

A few moment later, Frankie was ready to go too, or at least he looked like he was. He sat across from you now, his posture relaxed in a way that felt calculated, like he was trying to project a calm he didn’t entirely feel. Your cat, utterly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room, rubbed insistently up and down his leg, purring loud enough to fill the silence. Frankie absentmindedly ran his fingers along his fur, the gesture soft, almost tender.

From where you sat on the opposite end of the couch, you shifted slightly, trying to tread carefully. Your voice, when it came out, was low, calculated even—an attempt not to poke at the fragile truce that had settled between you.

"You know Santi’s right, don’t you?" you asked, watching as Frankie’s head lifted immediately, his gaze locking onto yours. "I mean, I don’t know how you are with your actual girlfriends—if you’re, like, affectionate, or into, you know, public displays of affection or whatever. But if we’re going to do this, you’ve got to get over it."

"I don’t have anything to get over. We just need to stick to the basics."

"Aha, the basics," you echoed, leaning forward slightly. "Sure, okay. But you couldn’t even kiss me without looking like it was physically painful."

"That’s not fair. You caught me off guard, that’s all. The context was weird. Santi was watching—it threw me off." He shook his head, his discomfort practically radiating off of him.

You leaned back, crossing your arms as you let out a short laugh, the sound more exasperated than amused.

"Your whole family is going to be watching tomorrow."

You stood abruptly, the movement carrying your frustration with it, and crossed the room in a few quick steps. You didn’t look back as you walked into the open kitchen, heading straight for the sink and grabbing a glass from the counter. The sound of water filling the glass was the only noise for a moment, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

Frankie didn’t say anything right away. When you turned around, your glass now empty in your hand, he was still in the living room, his focus firmly on your cat. He scratched behind his ears like he hadn’t just been called out, like he could stay there indefinitely and avoid the conversation entirely.

But then he stood, moving toward you with an unhurried calm that didn’t quite match the unease in his eyes. He stopped a few feet from you, leaning one hip against the kitchen island as if he needed something to ground himself.

"Your mother," you said, setting the glass down on the counter with more force than you intended, "your sisters, your aunts and uncles, your mom’s friends—they’re all going to be watching."

Frankie sighed. "It’s different." 

"Different how?"

"Because Santi’s my best friend. And you’re his sister. It was weird."

"And this is all fake, Francisco," you said, gesturing vaguely with your hand, like you were pointing out something so glaringly obvious it hardly needed to be said. "How old are you again? Forty?"

"Thirty-five," he replied, deadpan.

"Right. Almost forty. And you can’t do something as simple as kiss a woman. Yes, I’m your best friend’s sister. Yes, you clearly dislike me. And yes, I clearly dislike you too. But it’s just a kiss," you said, your tone sharp, cutting. Like you were explaining basic arithmetic to a particularly slow child. "A fucking—"

The word caught in your throat mid-sentence, stolen by the sudden, startling pressure of Frankie’s hands on your face.

Before you could react—before you could even think—he was there. Close, impossibly close, his fingers firm but steady as they cupped your jaw, his palms warm against your skin. His eyes barely met yours before his mouth was on yours, and for a moment, the world narrowed to that one unexpected point of contact.

His lips moved against yours with a precision that felt calculated, like he wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t holding back either. They parted yours gently, and his breath mingled with yours, each second stretching into something that felt far longer.

Three seconds. Four, maybe five. It was enough for you to notice, to feel how his thumb brushed against the side of your face, to register the faint scent of his cologne. Enough for it to completely throw you.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over.

He released you, stepping back without ceremony. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you from his full height, his expression unreadable. Then he clicked his tongue, a sound so small but so maddeningly smug it made your blood simmer.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t. You were rooted to the spot, your thoughts a scrambled mess as you tried to catch up with what had just happened. Your breathing was uneven now, a shallow rhythm you couldn’t quite control.

Frankie turned away, shaking his head slowly as if he were frustrated—with you, with himself, with the entire situation. His hands flexed at his sides, his gaze fixed on the floor.

When he finally looked back up at you, his scowl was sharp enough to cut. There was something accusatory in the way his eyes narrowed, as if he were blaming you for... what? Letting him kiss you? Letting him prove a point?

“I can do that, no problem,” Frankie said, his voice dripping with confidence, his expression so self-assured it almost felt rehearsed. He stood tall, chest slightly puffed, radiating an air of someone entirely too pleased with himself. “Stop being so fucking insufferable all the time, and maybe this whole thing would be easier.”

The words stung more than you cared to admit. You wanted to hit back, to say something sharp and cutting that would wipe that smug look off his face. Insult him, rattle him—anything to remind him that if this situation was unbearable, it wasn’t because of you alone.

But no words came.

Your throat tightened, and you couldn’t force yourself to speak. It wasn’t just that you were angry—though you were. It was that he was watching you now, not with his usual indifference but with something sharper, something closer to scrutiny. Like he was waiting for your reaction, ready to pounce on it, to use it against you.

Frankie leaned back against the kitchen island, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze dropped to the floor, and for a moment, it felt like the room itself had shrunk, like the air had turned heavy and suffocating. The silence between you was uncomfortable in a way it had never been before.

You swallowed hard, the sound loud in the stillness, and forced yourself to meet his eyes.

"Thank God you’re not my real boyfriend," you said finally, your voice breaking the tension. You tilted your head, letting a sly smile curve your lips as you arched a single eyebrow. "I’d rather kiss a toad."

The corner of Frankie’s mouth twitched, and for a second, you thought he was going to brush off your jab entirely. But then he let out a quiet laugh, one he didn’t even try to hide, his expression softening into something teasing.

"You’ve got a lot of experience with those, don’t you?" 

You rolled your eyes, letting out a soft, incredulous snort. Your gaze drifted to the empty glass of water sitting on the counter, the condensation forming a faint ring beneath it. You should’ve said something else, something sharp to cut through the tension still lingering in the air, but you didn’t.

Frankie straightened up, peeling himself away from where he’d been leaning against the kitchen island. He stretched slightly, his movements unhurried, one hand brushing absently over his stomach like he was just waking up from a nap. Then he reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around something—his keys, you realized—as if confirming they were still there.

He turned without a word and walked over to the couch, where Mr. Darcy had curled up in his usual spot. Frankie gave the cat a quick pat on the head, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary, then straightened again. When he turned back to you, there was something almost playful in his expression, a teasing glint in his eyes that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

"I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow," he said, his voice casual but firm, like it was already decided. "Don’t keep me waiting."

You blinked at him, disbelief washing over your face. From your spot leaning against the counter, you tilted your head slightly, trying to gauge if he was serious—or if he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

"Or what?" you shot back, your voice dripping with mockery. "You’re going to leave without me?"

Frankie paused at your door, his hand hovering over the handle. He turned his head, his eyes locking onto yours.

"I’ll come up and get you," he said, his tone low and almost threatening.

Before you could reply, he pulled the door open, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door with a gesture that felt vaguely theatrical.

You stood there for a moment, motionless, your eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. It was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the corner.

Then a sharp, high-pitched meow broke through your thoughts.

You glanced down to see Mr. Darcy padding toward you, his tail held high like a little banner, the picture of feline confidence. He stopped just short of your feet, looking up at you with wide, expectant eyes. The kind of look that demanded attention.

“Oh, so now you’re coming back to me?” you asked, crouching down to run your fingers over the soft fur on his head. He tilted his chin upward, leaning into the touch like he hadn’t just spent the last hour fawning over Frankie.

"Of course, you traitor," you muttered, scratching behind his ears. "Now that he’s gone, you’ve suddenly remembered I exist."

Mr. Darcy purred in response, his tail curling slightly as he rubbed against your hand, but you snorted softly, the sound carrying a faint edge of betrayal.

"You’re lucky I love you," you said, your voice low, almost conspiratorial. "But don’t think I’ve forgotten how easily you switched sides. I don’t know if I’m ready to forgive you just yet."

He blinked at you, unbothered, and you couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. Still crouched, you rested your elbow on your knee, glancing toward the closed door where Frankie had disappeared. 

Mr. Darcy meowed again, drawing your attention back, as if reminding you of where your loyalty should lie. For now, you decided, he was forgiven. Just barely.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Taglis: @paleidiot @gothcsz @everyth1ngfan @katw474 @mellymbee @pedritosgirl2000 @tsunamistorm123 @jokesonthem @sunnytuliptime @greenwitchfromthewoods @ashleyfilm @darkheartgatita @joelmillerisapunk @nandan11 @whirlwindrider29 @onlythehobi @diabaroxa @yellowbrickyeti (some tags aren't working apparently sorry!)

[softlypaintedseafoam]

as soft as a misty rain

synopsis. it's all typical sanji; there's no deeper meaning to his actions. until it isn't all typical sanji and there are many meanings to everything he does.

pairing. vinsmoke sanji x f!reader

word count. 1.3k | masterlist

content warning. recently established relationship, allusions that sanji's past is more complicated than he lets on, reader has a defined devil fruit ability

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

one of two reposts i'm doing today with my valentine's day event nearly completed. this fic was a gift for my friend @hash-slinging-slasher-trash and i wanted it over here too

Sanji has always handled you with care.

There is nothing to realize. It’s an objective fact that has been apparent from almost the very moment you met on Charmed Enclave. Aside from children, there are very specific individuals Sanji will always be gentle with. An enthusiastic softness, eager and ready to serve at the drop of a hat.

I’m not special, you had told yourself, clutching Zoro’s previous warnings tightly. He does this for every woman, with or without a pulse.

It didn’t matter how many treats he brought you, reserved solely for you.

There was no deeper meaning to when he held out his hand to help you down a few steps.

Nor did it matter if he’d push Zoro onto a puddle for you to walk across like a coat taking in all the liquid, amusing as it had been.

It’s all typical Sanji.

The question is raised when it isn’t typical Sanji; that is what makes your skin buzz as Sanj’s fingers thrum across your own. What makes your chest warm as you watch as he wraps a cloth around your palms and your fingers, how he touches you as if protecting a thousand treasures.

“I won’t lie and say the Nervy Nervy Fruit isn’t useful,” Sanji murmurs with a sigh. “But if you can’t feel pain, how are you supposed to recognize your limits? Like the other day.”

You chuckle sheepishly and Sanji’s expression is uncharacteristically sharp, unamused at the display. You are sure he will be sour about your turning off your pain receptors to test the heat of the stovetop a while longer. The blond has been fretting over you like a mother hen even since. “I’ll try to be more mindful,” you promise when your chuckles subside, letting your gaze rest on your connected hands. As of now, you’ve only dulled your senses to a light discomfort. Enough to feel everything without wanting to croak from your injuries. “But this time I was distracted, I normally don’t singe myself when I check how hot the stove is.”

That does little to sway Sanji in your favor.

“I’ll be more careful,” you dramatically let your head hang as if you’re being reprimanded by your boss.

“You’ll make Chopper sad otherwise,” despite his words, Sanji sounds satisfied with the conclusion. “Think about Chopper. That’s what you told me, remember?”

Your shoulders shake with hearty laughter, “don’t use my words against me,” you beam brightly with a hint of challenge. “And you should be thanking me. Quitting smoking is going to help you in the long run. What if they started calling you Black Lung Sanji? What would you do then?” Not to mention with how impressionable the young reindeer is, the last thing you want is to see him attempting to take a smoke break between patients.

With how hectic things tend to get for the Straw Hats, it is too easy to envision.

Sanji’s cigarettes and lighter had to go for the greater good.

As your laughter subsides, a comfortable silence settles over you both.

“So,” you feel possessed to break it. Comfortable as it may be, you fear you’ll drown in it. Sink deeper and deeper in it until you do something foolish, whatever foolish thing that may be. It’s easy to drown as a power holder, it is why you are always careful around the water’s edge. What happens when you find a piece of the ocean you aren’t afraid to fall into, however. You’ve never been prepared for that. “Have you always wanted to become a cook? I know that’s what you were doing before you joined the crew.”

At your query, Sanji’s eyes shine like a child’s, “it is.” As if he’s water flowing over a dam, Sanji tells you about his home in the East Blue. The floating restaurant, the Baratie ー a concept you’ve never certainly thought possible ー and the fighting cooks that reside in it.

He tells you about Zeff and the many cooks that joined his ranks over the years. Laughter falls from your lips as easily as the stories leave Sanji’s. 

The Baratie sounds more like the Waffle House restaurant chain throughout your home island than anything else. At the tail end of Sanji’s story about how a line cook named Peter got into a fist fight with three drunks and a cranky chicken, you finally ask, “what made you love cooking so much?”

“I’ve always enjoyed it, but I’d say my mom is the one who really encouraged it,” he tells you thoughtfully, his hands moving slower against your own as he recalls the woman. He should have long since finished, you know, but you don’t mind that he’s stalled in his ‘wound tending efforts’. It’s nice feeling as if it is only you on the ship when in reality you are just the only ones awake. “I liked making her lunches, not that I was always good at it. But even if it tasted like garbage, she always ate it,” the blond’s dark eyes are miles away from where you sit on the Sunny. “Then she’d ask me to make her something else again.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” you try to imagine what such a gentle person looks like. I think you probably look a lot like her. A good portion of the woman’s character certainly had been imbued in her son. He’s always been gentle and kind, you’ve seen it in how he treats Chopper.

It’s easy to baby the crew’s smallest member, but there is something unique in how everyone does it. Sanji was meant to be a father. It’s a thought that flusters you, but you know it is true regardless. It’s a bit too soon to think about that though.

“It,” Sanji’s gaze doesn’t meet yours as his thumb brushes over the back of your cloth-covered hand. You aren’t able to dwell long on what exactly your newly minted boyfriend means, however, as he continues on. “will probably be easier meeting Zeff than my mother. He’s a stubborn old fart but he means well. You’ll like him. Just don’t believe anything those jackasses at the Baratie tell you about me. I just know they put up that god awful wanted poster of me where everyone can see it.”

A giggle slips from your lips at Sanji’s distressed expression and you recall how he begged for you to pretend the portrait didn’t exist. 

It’s easy to imagine all the cantankerous characters he mentioned growing up with. Zeff, Patty, Carne and you can easily picture the boisterous men hanging Sanji’s wanted poster for all to see like proud parents and uncles. Ones very good at teasing their group’s baby. The men who made Black Leg Sanji ‘Black Leg Sanji’.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sanji pauses at your words before he lips stretch into a dreamy smile and you let yourself arrogantly assume he’s picturing the same things you are. “I can’t wait to introduce you to them.” With that, his tending to your hand is finished, cloth gently knotted so it can’t move. “I’m no Chopper, so he’ll probably have to redo it once he wakes up.”

You smile at his handiwork, “thanks again.” You think that will be the end of your little moment, but rather than let your hand go Sanji holds your fingers a touch tighter.

“Can I kiss your hand,” the cook asks earnestly, dark eyes reserved yet hopeful.

“You don’t have to ask permission for that,” your chest burns a gold the color of Sanji’s hair. It’s unfair how easily he gets your heart pounding like a drum. In spite of your words, he doesn’t lean forward an inch. “Of course you can,” you grumble, eyes darting to a particularly interesting piece of wood in your embarrassment.

The hair of his chin dances across your skin like raindrops.

[fairlyang]

this is self indulgent bc its my bday but also goes out to any other fellow sag girlies that love wade<3

w/c: 926

pairing: wade wilson x f!reader

tags: 18+ smut. celebrating your birthday, mutual masturbation mention, teasing, cumming fast, dirty talk, somno, unprotected sex, creampie, making you breakfast, surprise gift

taglist: @reader-1290

smutmas masterlist | main masterlist

celebrating your birthday with wade!⚔️

birthdays. a whole rotation around the sun, or the moon? whichever it was, he always forgot the saying but he didn’t really care for them, at least not his own.

but yours was a different story. for yours he always had to make you feel special because you were. in his eyes you were the most special and on this day more than any another besides valentine’s day, he had to make sure you knew it without a single trace of doubt in your head.

the first thing he did was tease you an hour before midnight by jerking off in front of you but saying you can’t touch each other until the clock hit twelve. you were losing it so fast and your patience ran even more thin than his and that said a lot. 

by the time the clock did hit midnight, you were overstimulated and had been edging yourself with him. he made you ride his dick only for you to cum too fast but he continued thrusting into you and quickly having his own orgasm as well. 

what you thought would be the end of your night was really just the start and he pulled three more orgasms out of you with ease and only then decided that was enough for the night. 

he'd help clean you up because he might be a somewhat cruel man but he wasn't inconsiderate and made sure you were clean and in new panties plus one of his t shirts. you would knock the fuck out, body aching but sleeping peacefully in his arms.

his ass would absolutely come up with the grand idea to wake you up with head and that's what it would start off as until he couldn't help himself and had to slide inside you. already having done this plenty of times before but never ever resisting the urge to fuck you because he was the biggest perv and you just looked so good.

you were knocked out fucking cold but still wet as if you were awake? how on god's green earth could he possibly be blamed for this?

you fit like a fucking glove as he was completely inside you, gripping his cock like your life depended on it. he was cracking jokes to himself under his breath while he slowly fucked you, only going slow because he didn't want you to wake up yet. 

taking his time, watching how your pussy took him in and listening oh so intently to the small sounds you'd make. so cute and just absolutely clueless.

"if you saw this view, gorgeous, you wouldn't be able to blame me either." 

"think i gotta do this even more often…" 

"never getting tired of doing this."

your consciousness awoke, suddenly feeling filled between your legs and all because of his yapping did you realize what was going on. you yawned and wiped your eyes, looking behind you to see your boyfriend with his eyes rolled back and that was when you felt him spill his load deep inside you. 

before you could even clown him, he immediately started pounding into you, not caring whatsoever that he was going to overstimulate himself because this was about you and pleasuring you. he just couldn't help himself, yet again. 

he'd keep fucking you until he felt you clenching against him and shaking in front of his eyes while he held you lovingly, murmuring sweet dirty words into your ears. he had to stop himself from giving you another load, instead deciding to pull out just in time and shoot it at your mouth. 

he'd offer to clean you up but instead you just asked for his help to take you to the bathroom to take a shower. after helping you get there and quickly saying no to helping you because he would get distracted too easily, he went to the kitchen to make the most decent breakfast he could make, eggs, frozen hash browns, and bacon. 

with your favorite mug filled with your coffee, just how you like it. 

he quickly scrambled to the living room floor, taking off a piece of the floor to grab the stacks of money he had just for you. was technically clean money, he just so happened to take from a rich man that owed him said money. he just took more as interest.

he also grabbed the bag of balloons that were all shades of pink and blew them up and tied them up with string as fast as he could, just praying he would beat you. 

he set the balloons around your chair on the dining table and he set the stack up in a pyramid on the table then scrambled (pun intended)�� to put your breakfast on one plate.

once you stepped foot out of the room, your eyes landed on the handful of stacks of money wrapped in a baby pink ribbon shaped like bows. your eyes went wide as he yelled, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

"who did you steal that from?!??!" 

"no one! well… no one important, princess, don't worry about it. it's all yours now." he said with the sweetest smile on his face, he looked so proud of himself.

you gave him a big hug, appreciative of the gesture, since this was practically his love language in a way. a little different than the normal but normal was boring and you were grateful he was anything but that.

"this is your birthday and christmas present by the way." he quickly quips making you chuckle, "of course it is."

[drdemonprince]

At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic. 

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things. 

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.” 

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written. 

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.” 

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.” 

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all. 

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work. 

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.” 

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true. 

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up! 

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world. 

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives. 

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment. 

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own. 

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

IGNITED

A KINKTOBER SPECIAL - MARKING WITH ROBERT CAPA

Pairing.| Robert Capa x fem!reader

Summary.| You ignite Robert’s jealousy and he has to remind you that you’re still his

Warnings.| Dubcon, hickies, biting, marking, p in v, rough sex.

Word count.| 1.2k

Notes.| I watched Sunshine once as a kid and it actually terrified me so I still haven’t rewatched it. Therefore all knowledge on him is by edits so this one really isn’t very detailed.

It was the way that Mace smiled at you, which ignited the jealousy in Capa’s body. The innocent graze of his rough fingertips, the deep chuckle as his eyes lingered over your bare skin, the obvious eye fuck session he had with you. Capa would always watch from a distance, his arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched and eyes glued onto the way you reacted to his subtle advances.

There was no reason for him to be jealous, you were broken up, or on a break, the pair of you seem to be on different pages with that topic. Robert was indubitable that you guys would eventually sort out your differences. It felt like a punishment for you when you were both assigned for this mission, but the both of you agreed to act professionally as the world’s survival was a far greater issue than your relationship problems.

However, when he caught Mace practically pressed up against you, his arms snaked around your waist, he could have killed him. You blushed immediately and slipped out of his hold, your head hid in shame as you tried to get out of the scene as quickly as possible. For Mace, Capa gave a simple yet strong warning to stay away from you.

Even though everyone else was asleep by now, Robert was wide awake. Staring aimlessing at his ceiling, his chest rose and fell as he clicked his tongue, his finger tapped just below his chest. Fuck it, he needed to talk to you now, you guys needed to hash it out, he’d be completely unfocused until you resolved this. Robert slipped on a singlet and strode down the white halls.

“We need to talk” Capa muttered as he rudely entered your room, completely avoiding eye contact.

You scoffed under your breath and closed your door, the both of you stood firmly, staring each other off. Your hands moved onto your hips as you moved your head forward.

“Well!” you exclaimed, your voice grumpy, clearly from his unplanned arrival.

“Are you trying to sabotage my work?” Robert lectured as he swiped his hand in the air, he shook his head at the thought of you with Mace.

Without thought, you rolled your eyes at him and shook your head. “You’re such an insecure prick” you insulted, avoiding his gaze by picking up your dirty clothes off of the floor.

As you threw them into the hamper, his hand latched onto your forearm, you hissed at him and tried to snatch yourself free, but he held on tightly to you. Those beautiful blue eyes of his were fuel of rage, suspicion and lust. Capa yanked you towards him, the way he looked down at you made you feel so small and helpless.

“You’re still mine? You know that right?” Capa flared his white teeth, his tone dripping of possessiveness.

“No I’m not” you muttered as you lowered your head in embarrassment as you felt your core turn.

“What was that?” Robert snarled, his hand forced your chin back up. The grip hurt you but you tried to act unphased.

“Nothing” you spat as you tried to shake your head free of his hold.

But his grip tightened until you were whimpering out. Your hands shot up to his wrist, however, even though he was of a slim frame, his strength still dominated over yours.

“No, say it again, I want to hear you” Robert demanded, his face flushed with red. His eyes dared you to piss him off even more.

“Get out Robert-” you were cut off when Robert crashed his lips onto yours.

You whined into his mouth, hands flung out to whack against his chest. But Capa reacted swiftly, you were forced onto your back on the small single bed, his hips straddled you down as hands pinned your wrists on either side of your head. His erection pressed into your stomach as he kissed you roughly, his teeth dug into your plush lips.

Since your resistance was pointless, your body turned lump underneath him, Robert huffed out and inhaled deeply through his nose. Saying that he missed you was an understatement. Robert needed you like oxygen, like the sun. Living without you felt miserable, the only thing that would get him through everyday was still being able to see you. The two of you would sort out your differences, he just knew it.

“My girl, mine. No one else’s okay?” Capa stated, his tone warning you not to disobey his views.

You mumbled out as you nodded your head in agreement, a displeased look on your face. But you were obedient, most of the time anyways, the last thing you needed was a scene made in the middle of space. His hands grabbed onto your breasts through your singlet, he roughly tugged at your skin and grunted out. Capa needed to be buried inside of you as soon as possible.

As he roughly yanked your shorts down, you gasped out at the cold breeze. But his thick fingers brushed over your sensitive skin and you moaned out at impact. After he pulled his singlet off, he unzipped his shorts and mounted you, his lips attached to the skin of your neck as his hands worked to line his cock up.

To ease his distress, you were already dripping. It was easy for him to push his thick member inside of you, you mewled out, biting harshly onto your lower lip as your walls adjusted to him. It had been so long, your body missed Capa, craved him to relieve you.

As he buried himself fully, Robert exhaled out, his eyes fixated on your neck. The possessive traits took over his mind, he needed to mark you as his. Capa’s lips latched onto your neck, his teeth nibbled at your muscle as he hummed, his hips snapped back and forward harshly. You whined out, your hands tangled in his hair as your needy hips rocked for more friction.

Every few minutes Capa’s mouth would move over to a new spot. You held his body close to yours, your legs wrapped around his waist. The desperate need of stimulation clouded your judgment, you knew exactly what he was doing, fending off the other men from even looking in your direction. But this act of love sparked your arousal so large that it took over your body.

When your neck was covered in hickies and bite marks, Capa rasped out. He was close, by the way you were squeezing his aching cock, he knew you were as well. His fingers rolled over your clit and you whined out. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix until the sounds of your orgasm coated moans filled his eyes, velvet walls squeezed as tightly as possible to milk him. Quickly, he followed after you, his body stilled as he gasped out in ecstasy.

“I love you, angel” he moaned out, his eyes rolled back as he rubbed his forehead against yours.

“Love you too” you sniffled, your body trembling from the aftermath of pleasure and the initial stage of regret.

Capa exhaled as his body molded on top of yours. He inhaled your sweet scent, finally his anxieties rested at bay. The warmth he gave you angered you, he was always so infuriating to be around, you hated him yet always wanted him by the end of the night.

“Can I stay in here tonight?” Robert murmured. His stubble teased at your skin as he nuzzled you like a cat.

“Yeah” you sighed as your hand rubbed over your fresh art piece of a neck.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

as soft as a misty rain

cw. f!reader (no specified anatomy), recently established relationship, allusions that sanji's past is more complicated than he lets on, reader has a defined devil fruit ability

pairing. vinsmoke sanji x reader

synopsis. it is all typical sanji; there is no deeper meaning to his actions. until it isn't all typical sanji and now there are many meanings to everything he does.

notes. a back to school treat for pookie @hash-slinging-slasher-trash because we both survived the first week of the new semester. title comes from rain by swv, it just felt like it would really the vibes i was going for because established relationships are sweet, but the buzzing honeymoon phase of a recently established relationship can be a bit sweeter

Sanji has always handled you with care.

There is nothing to realize. It’s an objective fact that has been apparent from almost the very moment you met on Charmed Enclave. Aside from children, there are very specific individuals Sanji will always be gentle with. An enthusiastic softness, eager and ready to serve at the drop of a hat.

I’m not special, you had told yourself, clutching Zoro’s previous warnings tightly. He does this for every woman, with or without a pulse.

It didn’t matter how many treats he brought you, reserved solely for you.

There was no deeper meaning to when he held out his hand to help you down a few steps.

Nor did it matter if he’d push Zoro onto a puddle for you to walk across like a coat taking in all the liquid, amusing as it had been.

It’s all typical Sanji.

The question is raised when it isn’t typical Sanji; that is what makes your skin buzz as Sanj’s fingers thrum across your own. What makes your chest warm as you watch as he wraps a cloth around your palms and your fingers, how he touches you as if protecting a thousand treasures.

“I won’t lie and say the Nervy Nervy Fruit isn’t useful,” Sanji murmurs with a sigh. “But if you can’t feel pain, how are you supposed to recognize your limits? Like the other day.”

You chuckle sheepishly and Sanji’s expression is uncharacteristically sharp, unamused at the display. You are sure he will be sour about your turning off your pain receptors to test the heat of the stovetop a while longer. The blond has been fretting over you like a mother hen even since. “I’ll try to be more mindful,” you promise when your chuckles subside, letting your gaze rest on your connected hands. As of now, you’ve only dulled your senses to a light discomfort. Enough to feel everything without wanting to croak from your injuries. “But this time I was distracted, I normally don’t singe myself when I check how hot the stove is.”

That does little to sway Sanji in your favor.

“I’ll be more careful,” you dramatically let your head hang as if you’re being reprimanded by your boss.

“You’ll make Chopper sad otherwise,” despite his words, Sanji sounds satisfied with the conclusion. “Think about Chopper. That’s what you told me, remember?”

Your shoulders shake with hearty laughter, “don’t use my words against me,” you beam brightly with a hint of challenge. “And you should be thanking me. Quitting smoking is going to help you in the long run. What if they started calling you Black Lung Sanji? What would you do then?” Not to mention with how impressionable the young reindeer is, the last thing you want is to see him attempting to take a smoke break between patients.

With how hectic things tend to get for the Straw Hats, it is too easy to envision.

Sanji’s cigarettes and lighter had to go for the greater good.

As your laughter subsides, a comfortable silence settles over you both.

“So,” you feel possessed to break it. Comfortable as it may be, you fear you’ll drown in it. Sink deeper and deeper in it until you do something foolish, whatever foolish thing that may be. It’s easy to drown as a power holder, it is why you are always careful around the water’s edge. What happens when you find a piece of the ocean you aren’t afraid to fall into, however. You’ve never been prepared for that. “Have you always wanted to become a cook? I know that’s what you were doing before you joined the crew.”

At your query, Sanji’s eyes shine like a child’s, “it is.” As if he’s water flowing over a dam, Sanji tells you about his home in the East Blue. The floating restaurant, the Baratie ー a concept you’ve never certainly thought possible ー and the fighting cooks that reside in it.

He tells you about Zeff and the many cooks that joined his ranks over the years. Laughter falls from your lips as easily as the stories leave Sanji’s. 

The Baratie sounds more like the Waffle House restaurant chain throughout your home island than anything else. At the tail end of Sanji’s story about how a line cook named Peter got into a fist fight with three drunks and a cranky chicken, you finally ask, “what made you love cooking so much?”

“I’ve always enjoyed it, but I’d say my mom is the one who really encouraged it,” he tells you thoughtfully, his hands moving slower against your own as he recalls the woman. He should have long since finished, you know, but you don’t mind that he’s stalled in his 'wound tending efforts'. It’s nice feeling as if it is only you on the ship when in reality you are just the only ones awake. “I liked making her lunches, not that I was always good at it. But even if it tasted like garbage, she always ate it,” the blond’s dark eyes are miles away from where you sit on the Sunny. “Then she’d ask me to make her something else again.”

“I can’t wait to meet her,” you try to imagine what such a gentle person looks like. I think you probably look a lot like her. A good portion of the woman’s character certainly had been imbued in her son. He’s always been gentle and kind, you’ve seen it in how he treats Chopper.

It’s easy to baby the crew’s smallest member, but there is something unique in how everyone does it. Vinsmoke Sanji was meant to be a father. It’s a thought that flusters you, but you know it is true regardless. It’s a bit too soon to think about that though.

“It,” Sanji’s gaze doesn’t meet yours as his thumb brushes over the back of your cloth-covered hand. You aren’t able to dwell long on what exactly your newly minted boyfriend means, however, as he continues on. “will probably be easier meeting Zeff than my mother. He’s a stubborn old fart but he means well. You’ll like him. Just don’t believe anything those jackasses at the Baratie tell you about me. I just know they put up that god awful wanted poster of me where everyone can see it.”

A giggle slips from your lips at Sanji’s distressed expression and you recall how he begged for you to pretend the portrait didn’t exist. 

It’s easy to imagine all the cantankerous characters he mentioned growing up with. Zeff, Patty, Carne and you can easily picture the boisterous men hanging Sanji’s wanted poster for all to see like proud parents and uncles. Ones very good at teasing their group’s baby. The men who made Vinsmoke Sanji ‘Vinsmoke Sanji’.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

Sanji pauses at your words before he lips stretch into a dreamy smile and you let yourself arrogantly assume he’s picturing the same things you are. “I can’t wait to introduce you to them.” With that, his tending to your hand is finished, cloth gently knotted so it can’t move. “I’m no Chopper, so he’ll probably have to redo it once he wakes up.”

You smile at his handiwork, “thanks again.” You think that will be the end of your little moment, but rather than let your hand go Sanji holds your fingers a touch tighter.

“Can I kiss your hand,” the cook asks earnestly, dark eyes reserved yet hopeful.

“You don’t have to ask permission for that,” your chest burns a gold the color of Sanji’s hair. It’s unfair how easily he gets your heart pounding like a drum. In spite of your words, he doesn’t lean forward an inch. “Of course you can,” you grumble, eyes darting to a particularly interesting piece of wood in your embarrassment.

The hair of his chin dances across your skin like raindrops.

[munariplans]

hi there! hope ur doing well. i love ur writing and have been wondering if you could do a story about reader disappearing on the teams day off. natasha who has a crush on reader notices and spys on reader to see if she’s meeting up with someone. instead it’s just reader being a good person and helping people along the way. making natasha fall in love with her even more.

days off | natasha romanoff

synopsis: based on the request above! thank you anon for your submission :)

natasha romanoff x reader

word count: 3.3k words

a/n: requests and asks are always open

masterlist

“what are you doing?” natasha asked you shyly, her figure leaning against the frame of the kitchen entrance. she watched your hands skilfully kneading the dough on the counter over and over again, folded into a neat rectangle before being flattened and folded again in the next moment. behind you, pans were sizzling with the mouth-watering fragrance of scrambled eggs being cooked on the stove, and the oven let out a ding right as she stepped closer, telling you that it was preheated and ready. 

you let the dough rest, before putting a pre-prepared one in the oven and finally turning to her. “making breakfast,” you said, matter-of-factly, “for the team.”

“but it’s our off-day,” she replied, “and we have chefs in the compound.”

you smiled. “well, i just thought it would be nice to have something homemade, for once. my mother taught me how to cook, and i figured i’d spend the morning of the day-off in the kitchen, where i’ll be busy, and…the thoughts wouldn’t be so loud.”

natasha folded her arms over herself as you came closer. you noticed she had just come back from the gym. she probably hadn’t had anything to eat. 

carefully slicing the freshly baked bread into halves, you took a pair out of the perfect symmetry and placed them on the plate, before ladling a helping of the scrambled eggs, taking a few pieces of bacon out of the other pan, and placing a piece of hash brown right on top, before covering it with the other half of the bread. she watched you work, methodically, seamlessly. you looked like you had been doing it for years. 

then, you wrapped the sandwich quickly, and wrote her initials, N.R. with a smiley on top of the wrapper, before handing it to her. she was taken aback, and slightly red when she looked at the sandwich being offered to her. 

“i-it’s…” she stuttered, heart beating quickly when she realised she hadn’t exactly taken the sandwich, but hadn’t rejected your offer, either. 

“i want you to be my first taster. if it’s good, i’ll call the team down to have it as well. and if it’s bad…” you shrugged, half-laughing in anticipation as natasha finally took it, taking a small bite in front of you.

she took a moment to chew, face in contemplation, as if she were assessing a fine dining establishment before you. you began taking off your apron, deciding to let the chefs help you take over for the serving of the food later on, and started packing your things. 

just before you left, however, you noticed natasha fully into the entryway of the kitchen again, sandwich half-eaten.

“it’s okay,” she said nonchalantly, wiping a little bit off the ends of her lips. “it’s edible.”

you nodded, hiding a smile. “okay means good. i’ll tell the team to come down, then.”

natasha shrugged this time, as if saying if that’s what you want. when you left to shower, however, she smiled quietly to herself, and after making sure that no one was around, did a little happy dance from one of the most delicious sandwiches she had ever eaten. it was more than okay, it was the best breakfast she had ever had. she only wished she had the courage to tell you so. 

the redhead then tore the part of your handwriting of her initials off the wrapper, and kept it in her pocket for the rest of the day.

–

natasha never really knew what to do on her day-offs. it felt weird, to be sitting around doing nothing. she could do her remaining paperwork, but she knew if tony caught her, he would ban her from working on it at all for a week, leaving her even more bored and restless. 

she could sleep in, or explore new york for the day, but she wasn’t fully confident that her russian accent wouldn’t throw the average new yorker off yet. it also didn’t help that ever since her joining the avengers, there was always someone around the block who recognised who she was, who let their eyes rake over her figure for far too long, who made her feel uncomfortable when they got too close to ask for a picture. the others never seemed to mind, but she did. 

she noticed you always seemed to step in when it got too much; telling the fans that enough was enough, or simply holding her waist and slowly whisking her away from their prying eyes and grubby hands. she threw her head back onto her pillow at the thought of your hands on her waist again. natasha seriously needed to stop thinking about you, and her festering crush, whenever she had the opportunity. she needed to busy herself. 

but when you appeared in the commons right as she stepped out of her room to ask what you planned to do on your day-off, you were in your coat and scarf, prepared to head out. the rest of the team was still lazily lounging around the area, in a dazed state from the aftermath of your coma-inducing breakfast. 

“where are you going?” she asked, not wanting to pry too much, but still allowing herself to feed her own curiosity. 

she hated that you always replied with a tone that seemed like it was painfully obvious what you were doing. “out.”

“i know, but–”

“hey romanoff, are you still coming for the basketball game later? steve needs to book the seats.” tony called out to her before she could finish the sentence. he asked you too, but you reaffirmed with him that you weren’t coming. 

you shifted your scarf slightly, turning your attention back to her. “you ever been to a basketball game before? you’ll like it. the warriors are something else.”

natasha shook her head. you knew she had never been. but it didn’t mean that she wanted to go, not without you around. but she also didn’t have the courage to ask if she could tag along to wherever you were going. she knew her limits.

you didn’t seem to take the hint of her wanting to come along, despite her readily asking if you were going to meet someone, or if you were just going out alone, and if you had plans for after. you simply waved her goodbye, and told her to enjoy the game with the team. 

she sighed in irritation when you left, much to the amusement of clint behind her. “does she have a girlfriend or something? is that what she’s using her day-offs for?”

if clint wasn’t already hiding his grin, his friend’s newfound annoyance at your departure definitely made him let out a chuckle. “not that i know of.”

natasha didn’t have much to do that day, and it wasn’t like she was particularly looking forward to the game either, so she decided to spend her day-off the only way she knew how, using her spying skills and finding out what you were doing with yours.

–

in retrospect, natasha knew that you probably wouldn’t have liked being stalked, or followed around without her telling you why, or even simply her not taking the initiative to just ask, when you would have told her willingly of what you spent your breaks on.

she followed you into the university uptown, where natasha knew you guest-lectured in between longer breaks from missions. she just never expected you to come in on your days-off as well. 

you tapped your card in to the science department of the school, while natasha snuck past the security guard after causing a well-crafted distraction. when you entered the lockers to change into your lab coat, natasha waited patiently outside like a schoolgirl hiding from their crush. she supposed she wasn’t so different from one then.

it was only when you walked down the halls into a room guarded by a facial recognition scan, that natasha finally got to know that she a) wasn’t being so discreet after all, or b) you were a better agent than you let on to her. she should have known that you didn’t get promoted through the ranks so fast, so young, without reasons. 

the machine scanned your face, and as the door unlocked, you stood there for a moment, holding it wide open, before leaning your head to the side, one eye locked with hers. 

“do you want to come in and see as well, or do you plan on just waiting for me until i finish?”

if clint had seen the embarrassment on her face, along with the walk of shame she had to put on to enter the room with you, he would have certainly made her the laughing stock of the compound for the day. 

–

you drew up a chair for natasha as you went to your usual work station, a little early for your patient. in the few minutes that the two of you were alone, you hadn’t engaged her at all, simply directing her to sit and watch, while you prepared your materials and waited for your lab assistant. natasha was a little unnerved, and in awe at your professionalism, at the same time. 

you clicked your tongue in slight annoyance as your assistant came in five minutes late, reminding him, almost naggingly, that you only had one day-off per week, and it was precious time that he was wasting for the both of you. he apologised, and got to work helping you set up what looked like a robotic prosthetic leg, on your station. 

the lab was pristine; white-tiled walls and floors scrubbed clean with a very strong stench of antiseptic ensuring to even the most sceptic of minds that you knew what you were doing, and that the lab was clean; if the multiple diagrams of your inventions on the walls and the prototypes lining the shelves around her were not enough proof. you had never told her you had a lab.

a few minutes later, two knocks on the door were heard, and your assistant rushed over to open the door for a man no younger than seventy, hobbling in with great difficulty as he tried to offer help with his support, only to be rejected with a wave of his hand and an upbeat smile. he was an amputee. 

oh. this was what your days-off were for. 

“hello, mr. miller. you look cheerful today.” you got up from your seat to shake his hand. he took your support this time, leading himself to the plush armchair placed across your station. 

he laughed, rough and loud. “david, how many times have i come in here and asked you to call me?”

you smiled sheepishly. “sorry, david. let me help you with this.”

he winced as you kneeled down beside him, outstretching his prosthetic leg and inspecting it. your assistant took notes as you made observations of the various deficiencies and defects it suffered through david’s use of it for the past six months. natasha watched as your hands, the ones that would hold her at night when she cried, the ones that punched the faces of enemies trying to get to her, the very same hands that made her breakfast that morning, ran over the intricate details and bolts and nuts of the prosthetic leg she learned you made just for david, knowing what was wrong just by the feel and touch of them. she adored those hands so much. 

then, you helped him take off the prosthetic, instructing your assistant to hold his hand in encouragement as he winced at the removal. “there we go. wasn’t so bad this time, right? and the leg did hold up quite well, for six months.”

“well, you do maintenance to it every week,” david patted your back, “hard to fuck it up so bad when you fix it up every time i try to, right?”

you laughed, and natasha stopped herself from smiling. at your signal, the assistant brought forth the limb that you both had been working on to replace david’s old one for the past year, shiny and new. the man positively gleamed at the sight of it. 

“ready for a bit of a change, though, mr. miller?”

“now, that is a beauty,” he said as his eyes latched on, before they inevitably noticed natasha sat at the corner of where the limb was, and she swore he held recognition for her instantly. 

you followed his gaze, before his met yours, and the playful smirk he let out was all that you needed to know that he knew. “is that your…”

“...friend, natasha,” you replied him quickly, eyes slightly panicked and subtly, not so subtly, shaking your head to ask him to stop before he let out your little secret. 

“is she the one–”

“–yes, david. she’s the one.” 

he finally caught the hint, and chuckled to himself as he waved hi to her. she waved back, no doubt in confusion of the connection between him and her. she made a mental note to ask you about it later. 

–

when the new leg was fitted on him, david was practically almost jumping for joy at the new flexibility and strength it gave him. his laughter was infectious, as natasha quickly learned, when it caught up to her after it caught you and the assistant, as well. 

“look at the reflexes! and fluidity of this thing!” no longer was he hobbling and exerting his entire strength on the one leg, it was almost as if the leg was natural and part of him itself, as david brought you in for a hug enthusiastically. 

you hugged him back, still grinning. “amazing right, what science can do for you. soon, the future of prosthetics is going to change, and we can make so many more lives better in our community.”

“you two are amazing, simply amazing!” david exclaimed, even as he finally accepted the assistant’s help in testing out the other features of the prosthetic. 

–

natasha stayed until the end of the day for you, when david’s tests were complete and he was all but ready to leave. 

“and to what i owe you this time, again?” he asked. you knew he didn’t have much, it was the sole reason you took him on for the project; but the fact that he remained so grateful, always offering payment, even when you had repeatedly rejected him, always touched you. 

“for you to come back next week, as always. and to thank mr. parker here for all his efforts. i couldn’t have done all this without him.” 

your assistant looked like he was going to cry at the recognition and hug david gave him. “doing a good job, kid.”

you held the door open for david then, and he stole one last glance at natasha before he left. “you know, your girlfriend here really is a genius, ms. black widow. the best of her–”

“–thank you, david!” you cut in, visibly more in a panic this time, as you held his hand and ushered him out, “just a friend, a friend!”

“what?” he didn’t seem keen to leave, “i’m just helping the two of you speed things along. god knows she wouldn’t have stayed here in this boring lab all day, running tests on an old war veteran running his mouth, if she wasn’t smitten with you too!”

natasha’s cheeks instantly reddened, as you sighed in embarrassment. so maybe her feelings were reciprocated, for a while now. 

with the assistant chuckling in the background, you shut the door ushering david out, whispering frustratedly that he was leaking all of your secrets about natasha. “david! i told you and peter about her in confidence!”

“i know, but you didn’t tell me she was head over heels for you too.”

“because she’s not!” you whisper-yelled, “she came just to see what i was doing, and…and…”

and…oh. 

david’s look made sense now. it all made sense now. her shyness around you, the way she always wanted you around, always wanted to know what you were doing, the reasons for her coming all this way to accompany you on your day-off. 

you had thought she wouldn’t be interested, and would leave after seeing what your activities just were, but you hadn’t expected her to stay. and you hadn’t expected to feel her gaze on you throughout. 

“when you know, you know.” he assured, patting you on the back again as he walked off, “trust me, kid. and she’s a good one, you picked a good one.”

–

your assistant had retreated to his corner of the lab when you came back in, while natasha stretched her joints and got ready to leave too. it was dark by then, and you felt guilty for making her stay past dinner. you excused your assistant to leave quickly, before finally turning to her. 

“sorry.”

“for what?” she yawned. 

“for trapping you here with me on your day-off. i feel guilty now.”

she rolled her eyes, before jabbing you slightly. “idiot. i stayed because i wanted to stay. and you didn’t force me here, in fact, i was the one who followed you, remember?”

“yeah, you do need to make sure that the person you’re stalking isn’t a super spy like you before you do that, though.”

at the blush on her cheeks and feigned hurt on her face, you quickly decided to change the subject. “what david said earlier…ignore him. he’s old, a little senile. really doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“really?” natasha frowned, “that’s a shame.”

you nodded, biting your lip as you leaned back against the counter of your station. she continued, “i really wanted what he said to be true.”

you blinked in surprise, unable to hide the shock on your face. it was your turn to be nervous around natasha now. it was always the other way around. perhaps the knowledge of knowing your feelings were mutual beckoned you to retreat to a shy disposition you never showed anyone else. 

natasha shrugged. “damn, i really thought i had a chance with the most wonderful, kind-hearted person i know, who would spend her days off, even, to help people. who i thought was hiding to meet a secret girlfriend or something.”

a smile began to creep its way onto your face. “n-no, no secret girlfriend.”

“shame. i bet that secret girlfriend would be so in awe, falling even more for this person, when she finds out what she does for the people around her. a superhero saving the lives of many as an avenger, and a scientist changing the lives of even more as a civilian.”

“mm,” you took off your lab coat then, coming closer to her. she had a playful glint in her eyes as she put one hand on your chest, preventing you from getting too close. “tell me more praises of what this secret girlfriend would feel about me.”

“this secret girlfriend also does not appreciate when you keep such lovely secrets from her,” she felt your arms on the counter behind her now, entrapping her body with yours, “and when you try to do anything without taking her to dinner first. she’s starving, you know.”

the chuckle that left your lips made natasha only want to kiss you even more. “what do you say i make this secret girlfriend not-so-secret now, and invite her out to dinner with me? her favourite italian down the street from here, my treat.”

in response, the woman before you finally let go of the hand on your chest, and brought her hands to your collar to pull you in, leaving a searing kiss on your lips that left you lightheaded and longing for more, at the same time. 

she held your hand as the both of you walked out of the university, before declaring something she had to say before she forgot, “tell david he should expect to see me around the lab every week from now on too, then.” 

“yes ma’am.”

[starsfic]

Weak Thing

Summary: Stan can't leave the Mystery Shack, especially when the twins take higher priority than Ford's studies and issues.

Some dialogue is based on a Discord convo between me and @vegalocity

"I can't do that."

Stanford Pines was usually a very patient man. You had to be patient to be a scientist and deal with long hours with very little progress, especially in a field like his. However, Stanley had always brought out the worst in him. "Why not?!" he snapped. "It's my house-"

"Because the kids' parents are finally doing what our parents should've done." Stanley had always been blunt, but this amount was enough to get Ford to slam his mouth shut. "They're getting a divorce and-" He sighed, the anger in his eyes easing back just a tad. "I haven't told the kids yet, but they're not just for the summer. They're here for at least a year or two."

"At least?" Ford echoed.

Stanley shrugged. "I don't really know, at least until the battle over property and stuff is over and the divorce is finished. Could be shorter, could be longer. Mark's always had the Pines' stubbornness and Ariel-" That must've been the twins' mother. "Ariel's always been a bit of a bitch but in a good way. It helped them through a lot of things, but now that's against each other."

Ford couldn't help a snort. "That's why they need to work on their issues for the kids-"

A hand wrapped around his throat. It was the second time his twin had shut him up in this conversation, but the last time hadn't had this cold fury in his eyes. "They're getting a divorce for the kids' sake.'' Stanley hissed. "The kids got sent away because Dipper overheard his own mom tell his dad that she should've aborted him and Mabel if she knew how much of a dick Mark was." Ford couldn't say a word. "If you repeat that divorce bullshit around the kids, then you'll only hurt them. Mabel's got this fucked up idea in her head that she can smooth things over with matchmaking and I need to help her with it." He squeezed once more and then pulled away. "But, look. The long and short of it is: Do you want to take care of the kids full time while their parents hash things out in California or do you want to go back to your studies?"

That stung. That stung and even worse, Ford knew what he would pick. "It's my house," he tried anyway.

"Not anymore," Stanley snorted. "Also, what do you think has been paying the mortgage on this place? You lost your grant long before I got here." Wait, no, hang on, that wasn't possible, not with the amount in his savings- Before the could voice his protest and explain how Stanley was wrong, his twin held out a key. "Your records are in the top cabinet, file F," he explained. "I also saved your weird voice recording machine with all the voicemails the university sent." He let out a low hiss. "Warning, they get pretty mean at the end."

Ford wanted to say more. Something. Anything. But Stanley had turned it on him faster than he could blink. He had to try, though. "I can take care of them..." It sounded weak in his ears.

"Sixer," Stan said, the old nickname harsh against his ears. For a minute, he swore Bill was hovering in front of him instead. "You couldn't even take care of yourself without someone holding your hand."

And...that was true, wasn't it? Stanley had to be the one to drag him out of bed so they couldn't be late for school, McGucket taking over in college and during his studies. They had to be the ones to make sure he actually ate something. They had to...

Fuck.

He couldn't do that for two teenagers. He couldn't even do that for himself.

"Good night, Ford. I'll hash out the house rules tomorrow."

Good night, weak little thing.

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part 11

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again after seven years, and deal with the fall-out of a secret. 

Warnings: mentions of violence

Word Count: 3159

A/N: I know it's been 6 months, but I'm just getting back to a place where I'm able to write this story! I'm sorry this took so long <3 thank you to @whisperingmidnights for your help with this part

series masterlist

“Your plan is to piss them off?” Fenrys looked at you like he prayed you were joking. 

“It’s not my whole plan.” 

“But it’s part of it?” 

“Figure out how desperate they are, and I can get a good gauge on how dangerous or useful the object is.” 

“Don’t underestimate their intelligence,” Fenrys cautioned. 

Rowan wanted to snarl at the male, he might as well have agreed this was the best plan. It was a good plan, he could admit that, there was only one pitfall - a very big one. It puts you in harm's way. No, it makes you even more of a target than you already are.

“What if it backfires?” Aelin asked, and Rowan both admired and was incensed by how calm she seemed. “What if others become suspicious, start asking around, and end up wanting the same thing they do?” 

“There’s always a risk,” you chewed on your bottom lip. He was about to open his mouth, to say ‘exactly’ or, ‘it’s too great of a risk,’ when you turned your gaze on Fenrys, then Aelin, then him. 

“From a strategic standpoint … if it weren’t me -” 

“It is you,” Aelin interrupted, but you continued as if she hadn’t said a word. 

“What would you say? What if the potential knowledge we’d gain is of great risk to Terrasen? Aren’t we better off knowing?” 

“It’s not much of a question if you put it like that,” Fenrys muttered. He didn’t look particularly happy about it, but Rowan knew he agreed. 

He turned to Aelin. ‘What do you think?’ his eyes asked.

“She’s right.”

Gods. He knew he would, if it wasn’t you, if it was nearly anyone else he’d task them with figuring it out. 

“We know a few Akkadian males are searching for some kind of artifact or weapon,” Fenrys started, ticking things off on his fingers, “and that it’s possible they are working independently, that they want to keep this secret. We know they have … dangerous knowledge of your past, and they’re connected with some kind of underworld.” 

There’s no real other way they’d know Andal - a male he’d like to kill one day, if only for the fear and pain in your eyes when his name was said. 

Aelin pinched the bridge of her nose. “We see if it draws some kind of reaction, see if anyone else is surprised, if he’s really acting personally or if he’s a scapegoat.” 

He prepared himself to protest, but your past words ‘don’t coddle me,’ echoed in his mind. With your characteristic stubborn tenacity, you’d already set your mind to this. At least you were letting him help, at least he could do something to help keep you safe. Rowan latched onto that mentally, onto the small consolation he got. 

“We need to ensure your safety,”  he emphasized, sending you a challenging look. Rowan knew this wouldn't be as desired if they didn’t all go in on it together. Sure, you could do something similar on your own, but he knew you well enough to tell when you didn’t quite want to. When you wanted help, even if your stubborn pride kept you from agreeing to or asking for it. “You won’t -,” Rowan paused and correctly himself, “don’t need to do this alone. Anymore.” 

You agreed, and the planning began. 

-

After two long hours of hashing out every detail, reviewing and reciting them until Rowan was satisfied, Fenrys and Aelin looked ready to explode. You found some comfort in it, but even you were tiring. 

When Rowan and Aelin locked in on one of their silent conversations, you turned to Fenrys, angled so they couldn’t see your face, and mouthed “leave.” 

He winked, and made a poor excuse for a departure, but they didn’t seem to care. 

There was an impending sense of doom, perhaps your mind playing tricks on you, but you couldn’t help feeling like something - maybe everything - would go wrong, no matter how much planning you put into it. 

The Queen and King stood as well, murmuring ‘goodnights,’ before you could say anything. Fuck. 

Your ill-thought out plan had not included that. 

Aelin stopped at the door, hand on the brass knob, Rowan a few steps outside, paused as well. Golden hair fell like a curtain over her shoulder, her head turning  as you slowly stood, teeth digging into your bottom lip. 

Time slowed, her eyes tracked the movement, darkening when they reached your mouth, teeth digging into soft flesh, perhaps imagining them digging in somewhere else. You certainly where. Step by step, you crossed the room towards her. Your footsteps sounded obnoxiously loud, thundering almost as loud as your heart. She turned fully to face you, hand letting go of the door. 

Less than a foot away, you stopped. Eyes glimmering, she tilted her head - daring you. 

This time, you didn’t back down. Hands reached, cupping her palms - still she waited. You could see how the patience cost her, a small curve of your lips and she nearly snarled, but you cut off the words forming, pushing forward to close the gap. 

Soft lips, slow movements, hands wandering, grazing over shoulder, down sides, settling on hips - moving all over as if you couldn’t wait to memorize. 

A low whistle from the hallway - who, you didn’t care, but heard Rowan’s snarl as a response. Aelin’s arm wound around your waist, drawing you closer, shifting your attention back to her. 

You felt Ceri’s magic, likely just down the hall, and stumbled back. 

Hurt flashed over Aelin’s face, through her eyes, mouth parting in dismay. 

“Ceri,” you hissed, “and company,” you added as an afterthought.

The hurt faded, replaced by a smile and a knowing nod as she stepped out of the doorway. 

“Tomorrow,” she said, the word a promise and a plea. You nodded, but couldn’t shake the sense that tomorrow might not come. You cursed yourself for thinking so negatively, for winding yourself up into a state of gloom. Things would work. They had too. There was too much at stake, and too much to lose. 

Four sets of shuffling footsteps - Ceri accompanied by the little … gang, to say the least. The three E’s, Edde, Edie and Elias.

Ceri burst through the door, her friends trailing more cautiously behind her. 

“They can spend the night, right?” 

“I don’t think that’s how you ask a question,” Rowan said dryly. 

You fixed her with a sharp look before she could roll her eyes. 

“We- we can go,” Elias said, voice barely carrying. He’d always been the most cautious of the three 

You opened your mouth, already ready to agree, seeing the sharp look Rowan fixed her with out of your peripheral, but Ceri cut in first - 

“Please, can we spend the night here?”

“Yes,” you laughed and waved them back towards their rooms, shooting a kind smile towards her three friends. In all honesty, you were surprised she asked, but figured she only did it because Rowan and Aelin were also present. 

-

“You might as well adopt the three of them,” Aelin commented. She’d meant it half as a joke, but saw how your eyes brightened. 

“Maybe when this is all over.” There was a distant look in your eyes, accompanied by the slightest upward tilt of your lips. Not the distant gaze of someone in pain, but someone thinking forward, thinking of the future. 

‘Maybe’ might as well be a yes, considering your expression - and if the three of them agreed, of course, but she couldn’t see them declining it.

Aelin didn’t know how anyone could turn you down, not with your pretty eyes or -

Rowan coughed next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Not pleased with looking away from you, she managed to turn her attention to him. 

“Going to stare all night?” He asked silently. 

Aelin didn’t dignify that with a response, instead let her eyes flash briefly to your lips, before murmuring goodnight’s to all of the room’s occupants, noticing the flush on your cheeks as you tracked her gaze. 

Aelin was out the door as Rowan gave his own goodnight’s, and she already knew that once they were back in their rooms he’d gripe that she happened to be the one closer to you. 

Two fingers touched her lips, her back pressed against the stone, mind wandering - wondering when she’d get to kiss you again -

You appeared in the open doorway, eyes wide with panic, head snapping back and forth - had your magic told you something? 

Aelin realized she trusted you implicitly as you tugged her back inside, slamming the door behind her. 

“Aelin and Rowan decided to stay a little longer,” you yelled - a course of acknowledgements coming from further down the hall, already in one of the rooms. 

“He’s - they’re both down a hall or so,” you were blinking rapidly, your breaths obviously intentional. And you didn’t need to clarify who ‘he’ was. For your sake, Aelin forced a tight, tight lid on her anger - and saw Rowan do the same. 

She felt Rowan’s wind sweep past her - buffering against your shield, she felt it as a small crack opened for him - letting his wind slide into the hallway, likely clearing all traces of their scents, along with Ceri and her little gang’s away. When had she become so attuned to your magic?

She heard him as he crossed closer - pausing a few feet away from the door - before continuing on, making it to the end of the hall before he backtracked. 

“I redirected our scents, not erased them,” Rowan murmured quietly - although your magic would block any noise from escaping.

“So he knows where,” you said aloud, arms wrapping around yourself. 

Rowan moved quicker than she could, his arms laid gently over your shoulders, almost hesitantly. When you didn’t flinch, when you leaned into him instead, he tugged you closer, brought your chest to rest against his, other arm wrapping around, fingers running through your hair. 

Aelin saw when you let your beautiful mind stop running, your face tilting, cheek pressed against him, arms coming around his waist. The moment when you relaxed, and let Rowan give you comfort like a lover would. 

-

Another familiar, but friendly scent tricked through the door. Fenrys. He was both grateful and annoyed with his timing. 

“You can let him in,” you sighed. Rowan tightened his arms around you, afraid the moment might leave before he truly got the chance to enjoy it. “And you can let me go,” you whispered. Aelin was by the door now, her hand perched right above the knob. 

“I’d rather not,” he muttered, but stepped back anyway. 

Maybe the day had been too long, and likely he was reading into things but he saw a flash of disappointment on your face. 

Regardless, he’d stepped back just in time - the door swung open, revealing Fenrys - looking unusually grave. 

“I didn’t interact,” his tone indicated he would’ve liked to, very much so, and the words proved Rowan’s inkling from earlier - the wolf hadn’t gone far at all, and having known the male for decades, he wouldn’t for the rest of the night. 

-

Laying back in bed, staring at a ceiling he’d memorized hours ago, Rowan rifled through his memories. 

Maeve had a vague interest in acquiring the types of objects made by your family, but the makers were, as far as she knew, always in Antica. Unattainable. To Maeve, the individual objects wouldn’t have been worth hunting down, not when she could acquire a source. He wondered if one day, if Aelin hadn’t come in and drastically changed his - all of their lives, he or one of the others would’ve received an order to find you or a member of your family. 

Somehow, thankfully, she had no idea your mother made her way into Wendlyn. He figured yours or her magic must’ve kept you hidden, that made him wonder how they’d found you.

It was obvious, he realized with the barest tinge of guilt. Your position in Aelin’s court would undeniably bring attention to you. Expose your abilities and bloodline in a way you’d avoided for so long. That brought the question of why you had accepted, considering it’s you, you knew the risks - hence why he felt the barest tinge of guilt. Maybe, after so long, you were sick of hiding. It wasn’t any use debating, rash decisions were uncommon for you, and rarely did you tell him exactly why you made the choices you did. A bit like Aelin, but not in a good way, but unlike Aelin if he asked you he’d usually get a straight answer. Usually. 

Nothing from his past campaigns with the Akkadians, past experience with the two Fae currently stirring too much trouble, gave guidance on how tomorrow could play out. 

The plan. One he’d made them go over countless times until everyone in the room looked like they wanted to kill him, that’s when he knew to call it quits, if you stuck to it then maybe things would work out. Too big of a maybe for him, but there was no other choice at this point. 

“Try to sleep,” Aelin murmured sleepily, he heard sheets rustling and felt her head rest on his chest, hand sliding over his stomach to rest just below his ribs. 

“We’ll see,” he kept his voice low, and traced circles into her back, the bare skin warm and smooth under his calloused fingers. Her breaths were even, and she’d already fallen back asleep. 

Rowan closed his eyes, and figured he could at least try and follow his Queen’s suggestion. 

-

Fenrys tried for his usual jovial manner in the morning, but it was obvious he was on edge over breakfast. You waited to call him out until after Ceri and her friends had left, accompanied by guards.

“At least pretend everything is normal,” you pushed your food around on your plate, “or you’ll tip them off and ruin our big plan.” 

The second half was laced with some sarcasm, in hopes to placate both you and him. He snorted, but none of the tension left his body, if anything it seemed to increase. That was a failure. Hopefully the rest of the plan would work out - even with the sense of doom still hovering over you like a storm cloud.

Finally letting the spoon clatter to the plate, your hand went up to trace your scar, thumb running over the still raised skin. It shot back down as you saw Fenrys tracking the movement. Most days, you hardly noticed it, but the habit reemerged once in a while. 

You glanced at the clock. Another part of the plan. Maybe you should’ve come up with a more interesting name for it. You brought it up to Fenrys. 

He let out an edged chuckle, “operation don’t cause another international incident?”

“Technically,” you tapped one finger against the table. “They started the incident.”

The statement did feel a tad childish, but in a good way, a way that lightened some of the invisible pressure pushing your shoulders down. 

“So you admit there already is one,” some of the tension had actually left his shoulder and a small sense of accomplishment filled you, but you just shrugged. 

“Operation mitigating international incident.” 

“OMII isn’t a worthy enough acronym.” 

Fenrys’s eyes lit up at the last word. Acronym. 

After taking the time to come up with your name, the two of you were nearly late - having to cut through a secret passage to make it on time. 

O.S.H.I.T. 

Successfully hinder international tactless-assholes. Hyphenated because according to the two of you, “O.S.H.I.T.A” doesn’t have the same ring. You’d also agreed to only inform their Majesties of the moniker if the plan was successful. 

“Why do I feel like you two were up to no good?” Aelin leaned over, no more than a queen consulting one of her advisors, whispering to you. 

“We would never intend to cause trouble, your majesty.” 

A very un-royal like curse came from her lips, thankfully just loud enough for you to hear, and you fought back a smile. Fenrys winked at you from across the room. 

-

Sun warmed your skin, the temperature absolutely perfect for an early summer mid-morning. They’d requested you stay in the castle until all parties had departed. But, there was no reason you couldn’t wander around some of the gardens. Fresh air was good for you, and you felt like you’d spent far too much time in a stuffy castle recently. You ached to get back to your home, considering everything went fine, hopefully that would be sooner rather than later. Not that you need permission, you reminded yourself. 

You had to fight to keep a big grin off your face. All of the worrying, all of the stress and pressure felt worth it now that you were on the other side. 

Yes, their eyes had flashed with anger when you ‘responded to the inquiries,’ publicly and slid them a handful of notes, drawing curious eyes from their companions. It had been a relatively simple plan, but you’d spent hours rehearsing answers to every feasible and not-so-feasible reaction, making it feel much more complex than it should’ve. But they’d departed that same night, and with them left a weight off your chest. 

At least, that’s what you thought before the cool flat side of a blade pressed against your neck, angled so the slightest wrong movement would have you bleeding out on the floor - dead within a minute, something clamped around your wrist - iron, and your magic winked, reduced down to a mere puddle. Some, but not nearly enough to get you out of this. 

“Don’t move,” a voice snarled in your ear, breath warming your neck. You didn’t dare swallow, didn’t dare attempt to form any words. It wasn’t them. Not the two Akkadian’s who’d been haunting you for the last week. Who had they sent? How many others were involved?

Despite your efforts to clear your mind and focus on the current … situation, names kept whirling in your head, making it near impossible. 

Ceri. Rowan. Aelin. Fenrys. Edde, Edie, and Elias. Reya. Ani. Ines. 

‘Safe,’ a familiar and wise female voice murmured in your ear, ‘they are all safe.’  Your chest loosened a fraction. Your mind reeled through every defensive maneuver you knew, and none of them would guarantee to get you out of this alive.

You froze as his hand slid around your front, you couldn’t glance down to see, did you want to see? But … just the briefest pressure of something sliding into your pocket, a crinkle of paper. Why would they slip you a note? The thought fled from your mind with his next words. “Listen carefully,” he hissed, “to what happens next - your life depends on it.” 

Why now, you thought, why when I have so much to live for?

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 36

Part 1 Part 35

Will’s skin feels tight, stretched over his bones as he tosses and turns into the morning. It’s a relief when the sounds of Mom burning breakfast filter into his room.

“Shit, shit,” she says, pans clattering as she moves them from one burner to another. 

WIll crawls out of his bed, limbs lethargic. His socks have gone wonky in the night – all his tossing and turning making the heels twist to the front of his ankles. He slides them around on the carpet, shifting them around without having to bend over.

He shuffles into the kitchen, settling quietly at the table, feet up on the chair, chin on his knees as he watches his Mom cook. 

She’s scrapping crisp scrambled eggs onto a plate, muttering to herself as toast pops from the toaster. 

Jonathan stumbles out of his bedroom, drawn by the sounds. His pajama pants are too long, trailing across the floor, making him trip on the hems. He grabs the toast without a word, plucking the butter from the counter and coating them liberally before bringing it over to the table.

“Sleep okay?” he asks, sitting down beside Will.

Mom turns, holding the burnt eggs and mushy hash browns on separate plates. “Oh, sweetie,” she says, hurrying over and putting her own bounty in the middle of the table. “How long have you been here?”

“Just got here,” he says, looking down at his knees.

It’s not that his Mom hasn’t always paid attention to him, but it’s grown sharper in the days since he got back from the Upside-Down. Like she needs to catch his every word. Like if he leaves her sight, he’ll disappear. That’s how she’s looking at him now.

Jonathan goes to grab forks and plates, heaping food onto Will’s plate before getting his own. 

The eggs are rubbery, over-cooked and under-salted, and the potatoes are more water than starch. Will eats it all.

There's been a pit in his stomach since he got back, like no matter how much he eats, there’s more space to fill. The doctor’s had said that was normal – just his body's shock response to food scarcity. It’d go away.

“Can I go see Steve?” Will asks.

Steve’s been so still, every time he’s visited. They’d shaved his head, and it made him look young and small and washed out; nothing like the boy with the gun or the boy with the broad back, always standing between them and danger.

But, maybe that’s never who Steve’s been. Maybe he’s always been small, and tired, and scared, just like Will. He just wishes Steve would wake up.

He hasn’t, not since Eddie’d brought him back. No one would tell him what happened, but the way Eddie refused to leave the room entirely said enough. Will isn’t sure he wants to know anything more.

He just wants Steve to open his eyes.

“I have to work,” Mom says, lips pursed. 

She hasn’t been to work since Will got back. Neither has Jonathan, and money’s got to be running thin. 

“I can take him,” Jonathan says, meeting his Mom’s eyes. Something Will can’t parse passes between them, before his Mom slowly nods, reluctance in every move.

Jonathan drops Mom off at work, and then they go, Will crawling between the seats to settle in the passenger seat. 

“Do you think he’ll be awake?” Will asks, staring out the windshield as Jonathan parks the car.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan says, unbuckling his seatbelt, not looking WIll’s way. “I hope so.”

They’ve been here enough that they don’t need directions to Steve’s second floor hospital room.

Eddie’s sitting beside Steve’s bed, like he has been every time Will’s come by. He’s wearing blue scrubs like the nurses do, and there’s no blood on his face. He looks tidier than Will’s ever seen him. 

Steve’s laying down, oxygen tubes taped below his nose.

“Will.” It’s Steve’s voice, scratchy and tired, but Steve’s. 

Will rushes to his bed. Eddie’s blocking access, so Will clambers over his legs, accidentally crushing his toes in the process. Steve looks washed out and tired. But his eyes are open and he’s smiling up at WIll.

Will bursts into tears. Steve holds up his arms in offering, and Will burrows carefully into Steve’s chest, keeping most of his weight on the side of the bed, unsure of where the injuries lie.

“Steve,” he hiccups. “They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

He’s not sure if he’s talking about the doctors, or his Mom, or Eddie himself.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, clutching the back of his head. “I’m fine.”

Will laughs, “liar.” Someone’s hand runs up his back. Jonathan’s or Eddie’s, it doesn’t matter. Everyone he cares about is safe. Everyone in this room is safe. 

They’re home.

When Will calms down, shuffling back awkwardly from the boy he barely knows, Steve smiles up at him, and it’s like something clicks into place. Steve is Steve. That’s enough.

Jonathan is sitting next to Eddie, shuffling uncomfortably before clearing his throat. “Thanks, man,” he says. When Will looks back, Jonathan’s looking down at his lap, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “For saving my little brother. I don’t know what I would’ve done if–” 

His voice breaks, throat clicking as he looks down at his fumbling hands. Steve clears his throat. “Hey, man. Your brother’s a badass. He would’ve been fine.”

Will thinks about the endless hours alone in that dark, quiet place before he’d run into Steve and Eddie, and doubts it. It was like each second there sucked a little bit more out of him, leaving silence in its wake. He’s not sure what would’ve crawled out of the Upside-Down in his place. 

Will smiles down at his shoes as Eddie chimes in, “yeah, baby Byers definitely saved my life.” 

He can feel his cheeks flushing.

“Well, still,” Jonathan says. “Thanks.”

Steve clears his throat. “Anytime.”

Will sits on the side of Steve’s bed, unwilling to leave now that he’s here. It’s like, when he’s with Steve and Eddie, something comes back that the Upside-Down scooped out of him. And everything else is purgatory.

He’ll be trying to sleep, or talking to the party, or listening to music with Jonathan, and it’s all hollow. He’s just waiting.

But right now? Will’s here, and he’s staying as long as he can. 

Part 37

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Thoughts on this as a Sterek AU?:

The vibe of the children librarian is definitely stiles but I think it would be cute if Derek was the children librarian so instead we have this:

Stiles wanted to work with children like his mother did, and the library was the best place. It had become his safe refuge during his mother’s sickness and he hoped to make it a safe place for other children. But he was also hired to keep track of the more magical books.

Derek has hired by the sweet old lady, Ms Beatrice, who ran the beacon hills library. Derek was pretty sure she was immortal. She took one look at him and decided to ignore all the gossip surrounding his name. He was put to work on the front desk because Ms Beatrice thought that would help the rumours and force Derek to interact with people. But also as a werewolf he would how to direct other supernaturals on what research they would need.

When stiles was hired Derek was definitely curious. As there was this bright eyed human who had the softest voice when working with children, but could turn around and insult you with the most venom Derek had ever heard. Stiles wore the most outlandish outfits but somehow looked absolutely ethereal in them. Not to mention seeing the stunning man working with children with his neck on display was ruining Derek’s control of his wolf. Beatrice thinks this this is completely hilarious.

Stiles knows how he acts compared to the other librarians, where he worked. Especially Derek hale, who brightest outfit that stiles had seen him wear, was a medium grey shirt. Not that he looked bad in it. Stiles had struck up a conversation with him a few times, but Derek alway responded with one or two word answers before he turned away. Most people would be off put by this but not Stiles.

Stiles had seen the way that Derek would interact with the quieter kids who didn’t feel comfortable enough around Stiles. With his small smile and bunny teeth, Stiles was so completely over his head. He also saw how Derek would curl in on himself when parents rushed their children away from him with nasty glares - or how his eyes would go blank when a women came on to strong. Stiles was an observer and knew he could be overbearing but there was something about Derek that made it so he couldn’t stay away.

Derek never knew how to answer stiles when he tried to make small talk. His tongue got tied standing so close to stiles in a small area; where all he could smell was ink,snow,home,lighting cinnamon, mate that made his chest hurt. Derek fleas from their conversations before he could embarrass himself by saying something like “hey, I’m a werewolf and I’m pretty sure you’re my mate do you want to get married”

This comes to head when there is an attack on the library, some dumbass tried to get to the magical section and summons a demon (this is beacon hills what did you think would happen). Derek is badly injured after saving Stiles and some of the kids there. Stiles manages to exorcise the demon despite being in shock that his coworker derek hale is Derek Hale, with a capital W. So Stiles, being Stiles decides to big him back to his apartment and heal him with his spark.

(Fuck yeah, getting to the good stuff). Derek wakes up the next morning, just wrapped in Stiles scent, warm and the most well rested he’s been since he was 16. Derek hears stiles in the kitchen and is prepared for judgement, disgust, fear and the worst reaction. Cue his surprise when stiles brings him a tray stacked full of food with a worried look on his face. His wolf goes insane at the sight of his mate courting him and Derek breaks.

Stiles was beside himself when Derek wasn’t waking up. He wasn’t sure how long it takes and werewolf, Alpha werewolf??? To heal from injuries given by a demon. So he made pancakes, everyone loves pancakes right?? He also made hash browns, bacon, eggs and waffles but that wasn’t important. He stacked the tray with as much food as he could carry and hoped Derek would wake up soon. So sue him if he was a little shocked to see Derek, sitting up (Awake) looking at him like Stiles was the greatest thing to happen to the earth since Star Wars.

The two of them end up talking (over each other in the beginning, but a+ for that communication)

“I’m a werewolf / spark”

“WHAT”

Once they both calm down they actually manage to have a conversation and Derek confesses that he was too scent drunk on stiles to have a conversation and stay in control. This makes stiles blush bright red and Derek is obsessed. He really wants to know how far down the blush goes. And it that moment, Derek just upfront asks to court stiles.

Stiles is an absolute gay mess right about now. He tries to tell Derek that he shouldn’t feel obligated to “reward” him after Stiles saved his life. Completely missing the point. Derek sees how insecure Stiles is in this moment and lays everything out on the table.

“No stiles, you’re my mate”

“Oh, Oh”

“Yeah, so please let me court you, let me take care of you.”

Stiles of course says yes!! They court for a week and a half before stiles breaks and demands that Derek has his wicked way with him. So Derek does.

Repeatedly.

The next morning they are officially a couple. Beatrice is so proud. She goes around beacon hills telling everyone that she single handedly got them together. She also goes around telling everyone that she is super excited to be a grandmother.

The sheriff is not amused.

Stiles and Derek get married three years later. Beatrice walks Derek down the aisle. She also tells an embarrassing story of the time when Derek got jealous over a child who declared that they would steal Stiles away from him and stiles would marry them instead. She cries over “her children” getting married and reminds them she wants grandchild before she to old to play with them. She spends half the evening snipping back and forth with the sheriff.

When Beatrice retires, stiles and Derek become known as the heart sickening couple who runs the library.

Thanks for the ask!! This was super fun to right!

[stargazedwinchester]

Womanhood | Dean

Summary: Dean helps to comfort you during your time of the month, without much experience about periods, he tries his best.

This is a little different to the actual request, I hope that’s okay! I’ve tried my best to replicate it though :) Let me know if you want Sam’s/Cas’s version too!

Based off of this request here, thanks!!

Word count: 1,134

Warnings: some swearing, not loads!

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

This morning, you woke up with the most unbearable pain, cramps that felt like your appendix had ruptured. You groan in pain, hoping it would subside soon. You clutch your belly and slowly get out of bed. Your alarm clock flashes 7:39am, and you let your head fall. “I love when I have no sleep,” you mumble to yourself, letting out a huff. Looking behind you, Dean isn’t passed out, snoring so loud it would’ve probably woke you up anyway. You hold your belly and walk out toward the kitchen.

“Morning,” you grumble, and Dean turns around from the stove. His face lit up seeing you at the doorframe, your hair a mess and in one of his spare Star Wars t-shirts and your own pyjama shorts. “Someone’s looking rough.” He jokes, noticing you’re not smiling back. “Aw honey, what’s wrong?” He asks, his smile quickly fading. The smell of breakfast hovers over you, like it’s mocking your morning sickness. “I think I’m coming on my period today…” you say, and Dean turns round to face you, letting the eggs and bacon sizzle quietly on the stove. Toast pings out of the toaster at the same time. “Are you sure you’ll be okay for today’s hunt? If you’re in pain, I’m sure Sammy and I will handle it fine.” He genuinely looks concerned, as if you haven’t had plenty of periods before. It hurt like hell, sure, but you could manage just fine. Along with the fact that periods can make you super emotional and/or angry, you were certain it could come in handy when killing a couple of monsters.

“I’ll be fine Dean, honestly. I want to come with you both.” You smile, leaning over the counter top. Dean nods in agreement. “It’s always fun having you around. If you change your mind just let us know, okay?” He shoots you a quick grin before turning back to the stove, plating up your breakfast. “Where’s Sam?” You question, usually he’s already by the table reading his favourite book or getting ready to go out for his morning jog. “I think he went for a shower, I’m not sure.” Dean spins round and passes you a plate with 2 slices of toast, egg, bacon and hash browns. “Wow, this looks really good, Dean. Thank you.” You smile warmly at him, and he returns the gesture.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

Your rapid breathing causes you to hunch over and rest your hands on your thighs, you take a deep breath. “God damn…” you say, looking up at Sam, who’s right in front of you. “What a kill!” You chuckle to yourself, wiping your hair out of your face. You stand up, giving Sam a high-five. “Good job, Y/N. It’s like you don’t need our help.”

“I know, right? I’m just that go-“ “Y/N! Watch out!” Sam cocks his gun and tries to shove you out of the way, a sudden loud bang shocks you as you feel something sharp pierce your skin abruptly. You fall over, Dean rushing to your side. “I’ll cover you, Dean, make sure she’s okay!” Sam quickly checks back at you, noticing blood is pouring out of our calf.

“Fuck. Y/N, are you okay? Does it hurt?” He panics, shuffling over to apply pressure on your leg. He rummages in his pocket for a handkerchief and immediately applies it to your wound, he rushes to whip his belt off and tie it tight enough around your leg to hopefully stop the bleeding. You can practically see the fear in his eyes, and you laugh quietly.

“What’s so funny, huh? Almost dying?” His hands shake, trying to keep the pressure on your leg at all times.

“I’m not gonna die, Dean. It’s just a gunshot. Stop worrying,”

You place your hand on his, and he gazes at you with so much worry. His gorgeous hunter green eyes comfort you, even though he’s feeling the complete opposite. You pull your hand up to his face and caress his cheek, he finally shows some sign of calming down. It’s like his whole body relaxes by just your touch. “I’ve honestly felt worse.” You joke, slowly moving your body to sit up. You wince, feeling cramp in both of your abdomen and your leg. “Help me get up,” you say, and Dean pulls you up, anchoring you from underneath, your arm draped behind his back. “Let’s get you home.” He says, catching his eye on Sam, making his way back inside.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

It had been a few hours since you arrived back at the bunker, you lay across the sofa, clasping your belly as the cramps still hadn't subsided. Your leg, however, had been patched up neatly by Sam, and were given some painkillers for it. It didn't seem to work that well.

"How're you feeling?" Dean pats your foot, walking past the sofa to perch himself on the very little space left on the armrest. "I feel like I've been shot in two different areas," You try to joke, but it only makes Dean glare at you, waiting for a real answer.

"Could you get me some period pads, or tampons, please? Either work," You state, trying to sit up. "Uh, yeah, I can do that. What... size?" Dean looks puzzled, which only makes you smile. "Regular, Dean. Get the ones with wings."

Dean stands up and gathers his thoughts. "Pads with wings. Tampons with wings. Got it. I think." He places his hands on his hips and looks to the ground, then to you. He smiles lovingly. "I'll be right back." He says, before grabbing his flannel and exiting the door.

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

An hour or so had gone by, and you hadn't moved from the sofa. your cramps have worsened to the point of also giving you a headache. You hear the door open, then close. Dean's back from the store, and he's got a white carrier bag full of items. "I'm back," He chuckles, "Got you a few things." He walks up to the sofa, laying the bag on the coffee table next to you. "Oh, Dean, you didn't have to..." You trail, as he takes out chocolate, a small teddy bear with a t-shirt that reads 'Get Well Soon' with a small red heart underneath it. He had also bought you the pads that you had asked for, aspirin, fresh bandages for your leg and a small bunch of red roses.

Your smile gleamed as your eyes met his. "You really didn't have to." Your voice almost a whisper, and he moves closer to you. "I know, but I wanted to." He smiles, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

"Thank you." You say, reaching your hand up to the nape of his neck, pulling him in for one more.

[mountttmase]

Winter Sun - Chapter 2

Note - thank you so much for all the love on the first chapter 🥺 it was honestly so overwhelming like I’ve been sat on this series for so long and I can’t believe I’ve finally introduced you to my babies 🩷 I hope you like this chapter just as much and feedback is appreciated as always 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6.5k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut & angst

Masterlist

You’d made it home from Bens at around 11am the next day and you flopped onto the sofa as soon as you got back. The only thing on your mind was McDonald’s hash browns but the text from Mason distracted you instantly.

Another text never came, instead Mason was calling you and you let out a big breath, biting your lip to stop your smile before answering.

‘Morning Mase’

‘Morning morning. You still at Bens?’

‘No I got back like ten minutes ago’

‘Okay good. Now what’s it’s gonna take for me to convince you cause let’s face it you know I always get my way’ he laughed and you rolled your eyes cause you knew he was right. You were still unhappy about the amount of money it would cost him but if he was stupid enough to offer to pay for you then why weren’t you accepting? Chances like this didn’t come around very often and you knew you’d be miserable sat at home watching everyone else have fun.

‘I’ll talk to nads, alright? If she’s fine with it then I’ll consider coming’ you told him, not having the energy to argue anymore and the laugh and cheers coming from him made it worth it. ‘One condition though. Don’t tell anyone I want to surprise Carly at the airport’

‘Deal’

‘I also have another question. How are you gonna pay everyone back? I presume my part was split between everyone but that’s gonna be long for you to sort out surely’

‘So I have a confession’ he laughed and you knew you were about to hear something you wouldn’t like. ‘I’d already paid for you. I was hoping to try and convince you nearer the time’ he confessed, laughing like a small boy who’s just been caught with his hand in the sweet jar and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him endearing.

‘Mason’ you huffed, trying to fake scold him for his actions but it wasn’t working. He was too cheeky for his own good and you were too overwhelmed by the prospect of him wanting you to come so bad he paid for you without even asking.

‘What, it worked didn’t it?’ He told you. ‘Let me know as soon as nads says it’s okay and we can sort everything out’

‘I wanted to talk to you about something else too’ you asked carefully, not wanting to startle him but your conversation from last night was still playing on your mind. Even though he’d said he still felt the same as he had last night, you were still unsure.

‘Oh yeah? What’s that?’

‘This little arrangement we might have going on’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘I think we should set some ground rules’

‘Okay yeah, that’s fine. Why don’t you think about them and we can talk about them on the plane’

‘But I might not be sat next to you’

‘Oh muffin, I made sure you are’ he drawled, causing you to roll your eyes at his cockiness.

Once you were finally off the phone to Mason you called up Nads who was more than happy to take over the shop for a week. Letting you know that you deserve a break and that she was more than up for the challenge and by the way she spoke you felt a lot more at ease about the whole situation.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur. Having to buy everything you needed for your trip plus a few extras. Realising your underwear selection was pretty sparse and not exactly flattering and you wanted Mason to not be turned off instantly so you treated yourself to some new sets you thought he might like to see you in as well as some other clothes you thought he might like to take off of you.

The week passed by in a flash and soon enough you were on your way to the airport on your own. Excitement and nerves filled you as you’d never had to do this on your own before but once you were through security and through to the lounge you sent Mason a quick message.

You treated yourself to a solo breakfast before having a quick look around duty free so you could pick some snacks up and also some things for Mason. You knew you wouldn’t be here without him so you’d promised to treat him in different ways and you were just picking up a few bags of m&m’s when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

You let him know you’d meet him outside the shop you were in and as soon as your eyes met his you felt your heart thud in your chest. He looked so cute in his comfy clothes and even though his hood was up you’d recognise him anywhere.

‘Hey muffin’ he smiled, pulling you into his chest and you knew your face was flushing which he only made worse by planting a kiss on your head. ‘I’ve left everyone in the first class lounge, you ready to go say hi?’

‘Okay’ you smiled, letting him lead you through the airport by your waist. You knew Mason was touchy but this was different. Normally he’d keep his hands where you could see them but you couldn’t deny you loved the feeling of being close to him as you chatted about your journeys. Your arm around his waist too and you knew to anyone looking it looked like you were a couple but you just went with it as you loved having him close ‘You go, I’ll be in in one sec’ you told him when you got to the doors and he eyed you curiously. ‘Need to make my big entrance’

‘See you in there’ he laughed, closing the door behind him and you waited 30 seconds before following him in. Thankfully they were all sat facing the other way and you used it to your advantage to surprise them.

‘Well well well. What the hell are you guys doing here?’ You asked in a sing-song tone, watching them all turn to you but it was Carly’s face you were focused on.

‘What the hell?’ She whispered, looking more shocked than you’d ever seen her as a smile began to take over her face.

‘You didn’t think I’d let you leave without me did you?’

‘You’re coming?’ She asked quietly, her bottom lip wobbling slightly and you just nodded as her face was getting you emotional yourself and before you knew it, she was throwing herself in your arms. You could feel her body shaking a little bit so you held her tighter as everyone else piled in for a group hug. ‘Mason, was this your doing?’ She laughed, looking for him in the big crowd of people and you could see how hard he was blushing, making your heart thump a little in your chest.

‘I just wanted everyone together’ he laughed as you all pulled away, watching Carly make a beeline for him so she could pull him into her arms. You knew she was saying something to him but you weren’t quite sure what so you went round and said hello to everyone else.

When you were called for boarding, you and Mason seemed to get separated but you managed to make it on the plane without him, eyes constantly checking to see if he was coming and around ten minutes after you’d sat down he made his appearance.

You watched on as he shrugged his bag off to pop in the overhead locker and you knew your face was probably bright red now as you caught a glimpse of his tummy when he reached up to shut the compartment. Clearing your throat as he finally took his seat next to you and could see he looked a little apprehensive but you didn’t want to pry.

‘You sure you’re fine sitting next to me? I bet Woody is missing you’ you mumbled but he shook his head as his brows pinched together slightly.

‘No, don’t be silly, I made sure I was next to you. I know if I was next to him or one of the others I’d wake up to a mouth full of peanuts or something’

‘Well I’ll try and keep my nuts to myself’ you joked, hearing him laugh properly for the first time that morning. ‘You sure you’re okay?’

He was playing with his fingers absentmindedly before he looked up at you and your heart almost broke at the vulnerability in his eyes. ‘I’m not the best flyer. I might not be the best company unless you can think of a way to distract me’

‘Well that’s perfect cause I’m not the best either’ you laughed, rolling your eyes to try and play off how nervous you actually were but his sympathetic smile settled you.

‘We can distract each other then’ he offered and you nodded back. Unable to form a proper sentence for some reason as his chocolate eyes were making you feel fuzzy.

You sat and chatted casually for a little while as the plane filled up. Watching the air hostess give her little safety speech and he was starting to open up with you a little more, relaxing back into his seat and soon enough the plane started to move but you felt the panic roll through you.

You went ridged instantly, linking your hands together for some form of comfort and you took a small deep breath to try and calm yourself but it was no use. You felt sick and hot and you could feel Masons eyes on you but you didn’t care. Too caught up In trying to calm your own nerves. You pulled your hands apart, one now gripping the arm rest as you bunched your hoodie up between your fingers in the other but the feeling of someone’s grip around your wrist snapped you from your thoughts.

Mason lifted your hand away from the arm rest, his fingers threading through yours carefully before giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You we’re looking at him the whole time but when his eyes flashed up to meet yours and he gave you a little wink, you could feel your heart thump in your chest. Not from the nerves this time.

You grabbed your clasped hands with your free one, pulling both into your lap before resting your head on his arm and you felt him give a little chuckle before leaning into you a bit more. His head resting on top of yours as the plane sped up which caused a small whimper to fall from your lips.

‘S’okay’ you felt him whisper into your hair as your free hand moved up his arm to hold it tight to you. ‘I promise you’re safe but just squeeze my hand as hard as you want, yeah?’

Under any normal circumstances and with anyone else you would of probably felt a bit weird grabbing onto them like you were but with Mason it felt normal and he was right, you were safe but that didn’t stop another tiny whimper falling from your lips as the plane finally left the ground.

You felt him press him lips to the top of your head, leaving them there as you squeezed him as hard as you could and by the way he was squeezing you back you knew he was scared too but the way he’d seemed to of pushed that to the side to comfort you made you smile even though you felt like you were about die.

You didn’t move until the plane had levelled out, even then wanting to stay wrapped up in him but you knew you’d have to move eventually and when you pulled back to look at him, his shy sympathetic smile melted you.

‘Sorry Mason, I-‘

‘You don’t need to be sorry, honestly it’s fine. Sort of took my mind off of me being freaked out’

‘I feel like such a wimp’ you laughed, going to pull your hand away from his but he squeezed a little tighter as if he didn’t want you to let go.

‘Do you mind?’ He asked quietly, nodding down to your linked fingers, a small smile taking over his face as he gulped nervously. ‘I think I still need the emotional support’

‘Okay’ you whispered, settling back in the seat as a comfortable silence came over you.

‘You uh, thought about those rules yet?’ He laughed, trying to calm you down and change the subject. Little did he know you’d been thinking about them a lot.

‘Of course I have’ you winked, reaching for your iPad and he looked at you with a curious expression.

‘Oh yeah’ he laughed, watching with wide eyes as you opened your iPad up and went to your notes app. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve got them written down’

‘Well I didn’t want to forget any’ you scowled causing him to laugh.

‘Go on then, what are you thinking’

‘Well, I think the first one should be no random kissing. There needs to be the intention of it going somewhere or when we’re… you know’

‘But I like kissing you’ he pouted, the crease in his eyebrows more pronounced than you’d ever seen it. You liked kissing Mason too, the fact that he’d admitted it made your skin tingle but you knew it was for the best. This was meant to be a friends with benefits situation and friends don’t kiss like you and Mason had done. ‘Come on, what else are you gonna disappoint me with’

‘No cuddling after and no sleeping in each others beds’

‘Fine, then no lingering eye contact’ he argued back, wanting to try and get some of his rules in but you were happy with that one. Eye contact with Mason was like a drug and you weren’t sure you could keep your cool with him if it was happening often so you quickly added that one to the list.

‘No sex with anyone else’ you told him and he looked back at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

‘No teasing, playing games or flirting with anyone else’

‘What do you take me for’ you laughed, typing it in anyway. ‘No telling anyone either. And the most important rule?’

‘What’s that?’

‘No feelings. At all. The friendship comes first. Deal?’

‘Deal’ he laughed, taking your iPad from you so he could sign his name and you quickly took a screenshot so you could send it to him later.

The rest of the ride was plain sailing. You watched a few films together as you spoke about what was planned for the week. As you’d joined late, a lot of things had been booked already so he filled you in on a few activities that were booked and when you were about to come into land Mason made sure he held your hand just as tightly so you weren’t scared.

You all made it out of the airport in good time, splitting into two taxis and whilst you were in the same car, Mason sat up front with the driver whilst you sat in the back next to Carly with Ben on her other side as she let you know how excited she was to have you joining. She knew you hated talking about money though so thankfully she avoided the topic and soon enough you were pulling into the drive of a huge villa.

You felt intimidated by it immediately, nothing you could ever dream of staying in without Masons help and he must have seen you looking a little overwhelmed as he left a quick kiss on your forehead when no one was looking before sending you a cheeky wink.

The others arriveded ten minutes or so after you so you used the time to give the place a once over and it was just as pretty as the pictures Mason had sent you. You felt out of place the more you walked around and everytime Mason tried to catch your eyes you couldn’t meet them. Another car was pulling up soon enough so you followed Carly down to meet everyone else in the kitchen.

‘Right there’s three rooms upstairs and two downstairs. Who wants what?’ Carly asked as you all gathered together and Mason was first in to make his argument about who should go where.

‘I think the three couples should take the rooms upstairs and y/n and I can take the two downstairs. That way the two single people don’t have to listen to you lot getting it on at god knows what time’

‘That does make sense’ you laughed, secretly hoping everyone else agreed as it would make yours and Masons little arrangement a lot easier and you could tell from the little sparkle in his eye that he’d been thinking about this for a while.

‘But you’ll be far away from me’ Carly pouted, knowing she liked her room to be close to yours when she could but for this trip you were hoping to be as far away from her as possible.

‘I know, but it makes sense, as long as everyone’s happy with it? And I’ll come up and visit you all the time’ You tried to reason but Mason had made his mind up for everyone and began picking up your bags.

‘Come on, Y/n. I’ll help you with your stuff’ he winked before nodding his head in the direction of the stairs. ‘We can all meet back here in like an hour or so?’

‘Sounds good’ Dec called, already halfway up the stairs so he could pick the best room and you laughed as Carly chased after him to try and stop him.

Once you were downstairs Mason lead you to the two rooms, doors opposite each other and you let him pick first even though they were both the same before he dumped your bag in your room and looked up at you with a shy smile.

‘I’ll um… I’ll go sort my stuff out and then come and get you?’ He asked, eyes everywhere but on you and you nodded before clearing your throat awkwardly. The air feeling like it had shifted since you got here and with one final nod he was making his way across the hall.

Mason was right, it was beautiful here and you were happy you’d let him talk you into coming away with everyone as you put all your stuff away but you still couldn’t help but feel like a bit of an imposter. You were hanging up your last few shirts when you heard him move across the hall and you braced yourself for him to come and see you.

‘Knock knock’

‘Oh, hey Mase. You alright?’

‘Yeah just coming to see how you’re getting on. You all unpacked?’

‘Almost’ you smiled, turning to hang up the last thing as he sat himself on your bed.

‘Y/n?’ He called softly and you turned to see his unreadable expression.

‘Yeah?’

‘Can I kiss you?’ He asked timidly and even though you were a little shocked, you knew you’d have to let him down a bit.

‘Mase-‘

‘Yeah I know it’s against the rules but I feel like we’re being super awkward with each other and it might ease the tension a little’ he explained, kicking yourself that you’d be so transparent.

He was right, you were being a little stiff with each other and probably could do with something to calm each others nerves so you slowly walked over to where he was sat and stood in between his legs as he carefully touched the backs of your thighs.

‘One kiss. That’s it?’

‘One kiss’ he smiled, standing up slowly and once he was close enough you rested your hands on his chest as he gripped your hips.

He started out pressing a kiss to your cheek, a smile breaking out on your face as he slowly peppered them towards your mouth before he finally popped a quick peck on your lips.

‘What was that’ you giggled

‘A kiss’ he winked, feeling the pressure evaporate off the pair of you almost immediately. ‘Always leave them wanting more’ he teased, squeezing your hips once before pulling away from you. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. Sorry I guess I feel a little out of place’

‘Well don’t, you’ve got as much right to be here as everyone else’

‘It just doesn’t feel like it right now I guess’

‘‘Well you’ve got time to settle your debts’ he winked, a coy smile on his face as he squeezed your arm reassuringly. ‘You ready to go up?’

‘I guess so’ you huffed, following him up to meet everyone else to discuss what to do for the rest of the day. As the pair of you were the last ones up you were told you had to go and do the food shop with Woody and Kayla whilst the others sorted everything out at the villa.

You should've known it was a bad idea as soon as you started shopping. Mason never taking his hands from your body as you gathered everything from your list and it was safe to say he was driving you wild. He always seemed to have to get something from next to where you were, moving you to the side with his hand on the small of your back or reaching around you with his lips on your neck.

Thankfully Woody and Kayla were so wrapped up in themselves they didn’t seem to care what the pair of you were up to and as they rounded the corner to the next aisle towards the end of your trip you felt Mason pull you back and press you up against the glass door of the freezer. You would have been shocked but the heavy kiss he planted on you made you forget about everything else for the moment.

‘Mase, we’ll get caught’ you whispered, lips brushing against his as you spoke but he just smiled and kissed you again.

‘Sorry, that last kiss wasn’t enough for me earlier. I need a little more’ he winked and you couldn't help but smile. Truth be told you needed a little more too so you let him get away with it.

‘Well you’ve got it, let’s go’ you giggled, sliding out from under his grasp before walking him round to Kayla and Woody who we’re starting to load it all up at the till.

‘We’re just doing somewhere local for dinner, you okay with that guys?’ Lauren asked when you all got back, letting you slip off to go and get changed into something a bit nicer before meeting everyone to leave.

Mason stayed at the back of the group as you walked to dinner, talking with Woody and Kayla and you stuck with Carly so she could let you know the plan for tomorrow. Apparently it was a pool day for the most part but they’d booked a table at a club in the evening and you already began planning your outfit in your head.

‘This seat taken?’ Mason asked, holding the back of the chair next to you as you all began to take your seat around the circular table once inside.

‘No, it’s yours if you want it’ you smiled up at him, secretly thankful that he’d be sat next to you as Carly was on the other side of you next to Ben and you knew they’d spend their time all over each other.

Mason spent most of the night with his arm casually slung around your chair and whilst it meant and looked like nothing to everyone else, you felt yourself turn shy at the small gesture. He picked up on it too, eventually pulling his hand away to place on your knee discreetly but that just made you feel even more shy so after a quick squeeze he kept his hands to himself.

‘I can’t wait to get back to the villa and get to bed, it’s been such a long day’ Lauren yawned, falling into Decs body so he could give her a little cuddle and you watched on with slight envy as the other girls got loved on by their boyfriends. Your eyes falling to the table as you played with your fingers and you wished you had someone to show you a bit of affection however it was too risky to look to Mason for that right now.

He was your friend, nothing more than that and there was no way he should be acting like the other boys were with their girls but you so wished he would.

You thought maybe he sensed it too, sneaking a glance up to him and he was already looking at you with sympathetic eyes before he sent you a wink. Letting you know that once you were back you could have him all to yourself.

You were silent on the walk back, you and Mason falling behind as the others walked hand in hand with their partners but the sudden feeling of Masons arm around your shoulder as he pulled you into his side made you smile.

‘You alright there muffin?’

‘I’m alright Mase’ you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder but he just squeezed you a little more.

‘Promise?’

‘Of course’

‘You tired or do you wanna hang out for a bit when we get back?’

‘We can hang out for a bit’ you nodded, knowing exactly what he meant and even though you were nervous to say the least, you didn’t want to be on your own for now.

Everyone was off to bed as soon as you got back and once you and Mason had made it down the stairs he nodded into his room and you followed without a word. Watching him climb into bed and hold his arms out for you and you let yourself melt into his body.

‘What’s wrong, Muffin?’ He asked gently. ‘You know we don’t have to do anything-‘

‘It’s not that’ you laughed. ‘I dont know, I guess I didn’t realise how different it would be going away with three couples when you’re single’

‘I get that’ he breathed, kissing the top of your head. ‘They’re all over each other aren't they? sometimes I just wanna tell them to let each other breathe’ he chuckled. ‘Don’t feel bad though, you’re mine this week okay? and I take care of what belongs to me’

‘Yeah yeah’ you laughed, rolling your eyes but you couldn’t deny it felt nice to be referred to as his.

‘I’m serious. And I’m also serious about us not doing anything unless you want to’

‘I do want to I just…’

‘What?’ He pressed gently, lips on your head as he spoke and you nestled into him further before speaking.

‘I’m just a little nervous’ you whispered. ‘I know we’ve had sex before but we were drunk and practically fully clothed. What if you don’t like-‘

‘I’m gonna stop you right there’ he laughed. ‘Sit up for me’ he told you, sitting up himself before plonking himself down opposite you.

You weren’t sure what was happening but when he reached for the neck of his top and pulled it off you weren’t sure where to look.

‘What are you doing?’ You asked, looking up into his face and the gentle smile on his face melted you.

‘Your turn’ he told you, head nodding to the off the shoulder crop top you had on and you thanked your lucky stars you’d changed into your strapless bra earlier so you weren’t bare chested straight away.

As soon as it was off, his eyes were looking over you hungrily as he bit his lip hard. His reaction boosting your ego slightly before he stood up and pulled you with him so he could unbutton his trousers and take them off. You’d seen him in shorts before but looking at him in his fancy green boxers was a whole other story and you felt your mouth go dry.

You didn’t wait for his instruction this time, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your trousers and you pushed them over your hips before stepping out of them.

‘C’mere’ he whispered, holding his hand out for you to take and you let him pull you into his body. His warm skin touching yours for the first time and you were surprised about how smooth it felt under your fingers. Gripping his strong shoulders as he wrapped his arms around your waist before he lent down to kiss you.

He was taking his time, slowly brushing his lips against yours as his hands travelled down to your bum. Gripping it gently as he began to knead it and you felt your knees go weak from his touches.

You wanted to feel more of him though, feel his skin against yours so you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra before throwing it to the side and the feeling of his warm chest pressed against yours made you both sigh into each other's mouths. He was turning you on in a way you don’t think anyone ever had so when he turned you both a little and gently pushed you off and onto his bed you went with it and fell back gently.

You could tell he was happy with what he was seeing, his eyes raking over your chest as his bottom lip got trapped in between his teeth but he wanted you further up the bed. Nodding his head to encourage you to move up and into the centre before he knelt in between your legs.

‘I’ve got an idea’ he told you, hands gripping your thighs gently before giving them a little squeeze and you felt your heart thud in anticipation. ‘You still nervous?’

‘A bit, yeah’

‘Maybe we should do something to ease it then, yeah?’

‘What do you have in mind?’

‘Well, I was thinking. Why don’t you show me what you like’ he asked, eyes slowly trailing over your body before looking back into your eyes. ‘And I’ll show you how I like it’

You felt your cheeks flush immediately, wondering if he was really suggesting what you thought he might have been but when he brushed his fingers over the bulge in his boxers your suspicions were confirmed.

‘Oh, I don’t know mase’

‘I know it seems scary, but once we get going you’ll be fine’ he reassured, leaning over to place a soft kiss to your lips. ‘And I promise I’ll take good care of you after yeah?’ He spoke against your lips.

You felt yourself nodding, agreeing to his plans before you’d even really thought about it and when he reached for your underwear, you lifted your hips and let him pull them from your legs. Thinking if you could just get through this part then he’d give you what you wanted and the satisfied groan that fell from his lips as he finally caught sight of you fully undressed made you shiver. The sound travelling straight in your ears and down your spine to your core.

‘You want me to go first?’ He asked, sounding almost breathless as he continued to touch himself over his boxers so you nodded to let him know he was good to go, hoping seeing him playing with himself would give you the boost you needed.

You kept your eyes on his until he hooked his thumbs under his boxers and pushed them down. Watching his hard length spring free and slap his tummy gently and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

Yes you’d felt him before but you never really got to see him. And he was big. Intimidatingly so and when he took himself into his hand and started to pump himself you almost lost it.

It’s like you were in a trance, your eyes watching his hand go up and down, drinking in the noises he was making before his free hand reached for yours in an attempt to position it where you’d follow suit and even though your cheeks were burning you went with it. Shutting your eyes as your fingers brushed over where you needed some relief.

The moans pouring from your lips only appeared to be spurring him on, eyes never leaving where your fingers were so he could memorise the way you touched yourself for later but soon enough it all became too much for him. Slowly tearing your hand away so he could line himself with your entrance and once a whimper had fallen from your lips he was gently pushing his way in.

‘Fuck’ he stuttered, closing his eyes as he moved his hips, picking his pace up almost straight away like he couldn’t contain himself and you relaxed into the sheets as he laid his body on yours. Face nuzzled in your neck as you wrapped your arms around him but it was almost as if it was over before it started. Mason moving his body up before removing himself from you and taking himself back into his hand so he could release himself over your tummy.

‘Shit shit shit’ he spat, his breathing heavy as he looked at what he’d done but you couldn’t catch his eyes to make him talk to you.

‘Mase?’ You asked, looking up to his blood red face that was full of embarrassment and when his eyes finally met yours you felt your tummy drop. He looked humiliated and scared, like you’d were about to throw him out for cumming too quickly but that was the last thing on your mind.

‘fuck I’m so sorry I couldn’t hold it’

‘Mase it’s fine-’

‘No it’s not, Jesus Christ’ he interrupted, his hand scratching the back of his neck. ‘You can tell it’s been a while huh’ he laughed awkwardly, grabbing his shirt so he could clean you up a bit. ‘There you were worrying I wouldn’t like what I saw, you’re too attractive clearly. My dick can’t take it’

‘What about last time’ you laughed, referring to your little escapade on Ben’s sink and whilst it wasn’t the longest time you’d ever gone it wasn’t as short as this.

‘I had whisky dick last time. Normally I can’t even get it up when I’ve had that much to drink so the fact I fucked you is actually pretty impressive I’ll have you know’ he laughed shyly before slipping down next to you. ‘Look just lay back so I can finish you off yeah?’

‘You don’t have to’

‘Well I do. Won’t leave any of my customers unsafisfied with my service’ he winked, a strange feeling settling in your tummy at his words but in the end you just laughed him off.

‘Mase that’s gross’ you told him but you were soon silenced as he pressed his lips to yours whilst hooking his leg around yours to keep them apart before plunging his fingers into you with no prior warning.

You thought he might try and get you to your high quickly so you could leave after what he’d done but if anything he was taking his time. Slowly pulsing his fingers inside of you as he stared straight into your eyes and the change in pace made you dizzy.

‘Mase, p-please’ you stuttered, grinding your hips down onto his hand in hopes you’d feel the friction a bit more but the teasing smile on his lips made you shiver.

‘What is it, muffin?’

‘Faster please’

‘Oh I don’t think so’ he whispered, leaning down so he could place a kiss on your lips ‘remember last time? I said I wanted to take my time with you but we couldn’t. So I’m gonna take my time with you now okay?’

‘Okay’ you nodded, knowing he’d get his own way anyway so you let him have you as he wanted. Moving himself in between your legs so he could rest his forehead on yours but the eye contact was proving too intense for you, not to mention it was against the rules, so you shut your eyes just before you felt him kiss you again.

‘You think I can have a taste?’ He asked, lips dancing across your cheek as you nodded, your legs shaking in anticipation as he kissed his way down your body. Seemily wanting to cover every inch of your skin with his lips all whilst his fingers still worked away inside of you but soon enough he was where you needed him. Kissing all over your thighs until you couldn’t take it anymore so you gently threaded your fingers through his hair so you could move him. Feeling him chuckling against you before the warmth of his tongue finally made contact with your clit.

‘Fuck Mase’ you shuddered, fingers gripping his hair even harder so you could ride his tongue. Thinking you may be pushing it a bit far but the way his free hand was roaming your skin let you know he was enjoying it just as much. Touching as squeezing every part of you he pleased and the warmth of his hand made it all feel more intense.

You reached your high soon after, arching your back off the bed as he rode you through it before you slumped back down. Chest heaving as you came back to reality but Mason settling himself next to you made you smile.

‘I’m sorry about earlier, hopefully that made up for it’ he laughed, pressing a kiss to your forehead and making you chuckle.

‘I guess we can call it even now’

‘Do you think you might have another one for me?’ He asked seductively, lips by your ear before he kissed your neck. ‘I think I might have enjoyed eating you out a little too much’ he told you. Taking your hand so you could feel him again and to your surprise he was as hard as a rock.

‘I think I might, yeah’ you winked, lips reaching up to his so you could kiss him again as you both got lost in each other once more.

y/n

liked by masonmount, okaylaaa, decalnrice and others

y/n out of office activated ✅

view comments

masonmount plane pals 🤜🏻🤛🏻

y/n thank you for keeping me sane 😊

carlywlms_ I still can’t believe you’re here 🥹

y/n believe it baby 🤭

laurenfryer_ THE GANGS ALL BACK TOGETHER

y/n LET THE FUN BEGIN 🤪

declanrice Mason is such a baby

y/n are just jealous you couldn’t hold his hand like normal?

decalnrice 🤐

__nads have the best time 🩷 i promise to look after your baby with my life 🧁

y/n thank you 🥰 just call me if you need me!

__nads girl relax I got this 😉

lukeshaw23 thanks for the invite

masonmount I’ll bring you back something nice 😏

declanrice 😘

woody_ hope Mason didn’t hurt your hand 😭 could hear you squealing from three rows away

masonmount yes cause I was the one that caused it 🙄

y/n sorry Mase ☹️

Tagged: @footiehoemcfc @prideofpd @yoursselo @chelseachilly @willow-writer-ivy @mm-vii @katharinanadiaa @mmountseb @carlottawllms @saltyheartnightmare @masonmtxo @harvestmount @chillymountsjess @treblebluesblog @pulisicsgirl @bluesswift @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps

[blingblong55]

Keep Driving -Simon "Ghost" Riley

Based on a request: When or if your requests are open can you do Ghost taking care of hungover f!reader please? Thank you <3 ---- F!Reader, fluff, established!relationship, hangover, boyfriend!Ghost ----

You were out with your friends tonight at some pub. The night was more than great, and it's been so long since you got to go out and catch up with your friends. Simon stayed back and was just your designated driver for the night and when you called, he excitedly drove to you.

Within ten minutes, he was there, getting out of his car and with a soft and warm hug, he guided you to the car. "Had fun, lovie?" he softly asks and you nod. Before you reach for the handle, he swats your arm away. Always a gentleman, his mum would remind him. He laughs when you pout, something so adorable but so funny to him. Once in the car, he notices how you were falling asleep and he knows a thing or two about falling asleep after drinking, so he won't let you fall asleep so quickly. "So, what did you talk about?" he asks as he keeps his eyes on the road. "…Old drama from school…with updated news," you mention and smile. Always the gossiper, you and he the listener to those stories.

"Any updates on that girl from science class?" He had to admit, he was invested in that story from day one. "Yes, and it gets better," you say and he nods. The whole ride home, the rundown of the drama was given to him.

Once he got you home, gave you something to eat and then made sure you got cleaned and into your comfy clothes. His big shirt on you and that warm and soft blanket that you like. Your head hurts as you begin to sober up. Simon knows this and he sighs, "You can drink the pill so your head doesn't hurt, lovie," he mentions and kisses your forehead, you groan.

"Si, I don't want to drink some pill," you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. A low chuckle escapes his lips, "Lovie, you need it, or else you'll cry like last time," he brushes your hair with his calloused fingers. "I hit my head while walking in, that doesn't count," you mumble and he smiles. Stubborn little thing you are, he thinks.

Was it scary to think he loved moments like this?

By morning, as he slept, he heard and felt you trying to get up from bed. But his strong arms snake around your body. It was like they were meant to hold you this way.

Your head hurts, your mouth dry and your eyes barely tolerate the light from the early sun. "Fuck, what did I do," you curse under your breath and just on cue you hear his laugh. "Told you so," he mumbles into your neck.

"Shut up," you lean into him. His body getting comfortable in this position.

"Pancakes?" he asks and you nod. "extra syrup please," you ask and he kisses your shoulder, a small yes from him.

It was his cure for hangovers. Maple syrup, coffee, pancakes for two, hash browns because you loved them and his terrible jokes.

The whole day, he kept himself beside you. Not a clingy man when he's home, yeah…sure.

It's a sunny day in Manchester, weird but beautiful that it happened today and what's more nicer is the fact he and you get to eat breakfast in the backyard. The warm sun and those yellow sunglasses of yours complement this great day.

He stays shirtless, his soft muscles letting the sun hit them. You, still in his shirt look at him. It was as if a symphony started playing when your eyes met his body. He is handsome, beautiful even.

Oh…you fell in love, didn't you?… Is that why your heart is beating fast? why now the sight of him has you blushing like a school girl? Why do you feel so many beautiful things for him? It's love, it's him, it's unique and peaceful.

For him, it was three days ago, when you two had gone on some road trip and instead of going home, you turned to him and said, "Keep driving, Si." That was how you ended up in his arms at some petrol station, blushing as you heard him whisper words he meant at that exact moment. "I'm falling in love with you, Y/N- what i…what I mean is…I love you," a nervous chuckle escapes him as you so gently kiss him.

Tags: @liyanahelena @uniquecroissant @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @night-mare-owl-79 @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @strangepuppynightmare @defnotlpuluvyou @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @nellsbobells @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @1234beeandpuppycat @sparky--bunny @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @@konigssultwithghost @pinkblossomsworld @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @@foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed @mychemichalimalance @marshiely @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

[puppetwoman17]

A Happy House: Part 1

Headcanon that when there are any quarrels or fights between league members, they cool down at Billy’s apartment.

I see this happening in the future when Billy’s like, early to mid 20s. He’s finally settled to the point where he doesn’t always worry about becoming a homeless kid again. People in the League know him as understanding to a fault, and always willing to listen to both sides of the story. His apartment is homey, and there are always magical creatures or family walking around, like his sister, best friend, or uncle Dudley. Maybe a celestial or a god is visiting. Maybe the universe’s higher ups are having a meeting in his dining room. Whatever is happening, it calms everyone down.

Sometimes it’s Connor, coming in from another fight with Clark. Sometimes it’s a fellow Magic user who feels ostrisized because of their power. Other times, it’s a Batfamily member who wants Bruce off their tail, and Billy will gladly use a shield spell to give them privacy from Batman’s detective skills. Other times it’s members of the Team after arguing with the JL. Or the JL sorting out a quarrel amongst themselves with Billy’s careful judgement.

Billy doesn’t know why he’s such a calming presence to them. He’s known them since he was a child, yes, a kid who hadn’t even hit the double digits. But he tends to be blunt. Straight to the point. He makes sure to show he cares, but the feeling can feel foreign at times when the world keeps biting you in the ass. And he can get mad when people are so obliviously stupid it hurts. He’s seen and heard more than enough arguments between adults to know when they’re pulling bullshit or saying something that shouldn’t be said. It’s an art at this point.

But he’s mostly quiet when someone comes over, and when the other person is permitted to enter, he lets them hash the argument out themselves, offering nothing but privacy and a smile when they leave.

…So yeah, he’s confused. But he’s just happy to help.

And the JL, Team and Titans are grateful too. He’s their relationship wingman! The guy who you know to go to when things get heated. His home is an oasis of calm and care.

They can watch as the Batson siblings banter in the kitchen. They can watch Billy bring John Constantine in by the ear and rip him a new one. They can smile in amusement as Billy puts one over on his fellow higher ups in the magic community on a freakin ZOOM call!

He’s easy to be around. There’s no pressure from him, no questions needing answers. He’s also not biased(unless it’s more than obvious who’s in the wrong).

So yeah, the heroes love their not-so-little-anymore magic man.

They love him so much that they immediately clock onto when things go horribly, horribly wrong.

See, Billy doesn’t like to get angry. When he’s Cap, he’s afraid of the power he possesses. He gets nauseous when someone bows to him like he’s their boss or something(which you are Billy bean, you gotta deal with it). Even when he’s in his mortal form, he doesn’t go beyond a flood of curse words or a couple jabs built off stress.

But there are a few people who know what buttons to push, and they push them. A lot. So much so that he tends to get a little…loud.

Oh and did I mention he didn’t exactly TELL his coworkers that he had an uncle? Hell, that he did have a family, they just didn’t care enough to be with him?

Yeah, that’s not gonna lead to anything, I’m sure.