#i have been thinking about this poem A LOT this week.

[meetinginsamarra]

My AO3 wrapped 2024

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer 56k

Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

I started the year writing/finishing the casefic which is a gift to my friend and beta reader @peageetibbs . This took way over a year to write, as there had been a lot of plotting and figuring out clues and deductions. Also, several breaks in writing because of IRL or when other fics "interfered" and delayed finishing it.

It's a complex intriguing case starting in a historic cinema and our heroes exhibit a well-established friendship.

-----

Mayprompts 2025 - hosted by calaisreno

The 31 prompts this May generated a boost of creativity that spawned 3 ficlets, 2 limericks and one poem as well as two stories (see below).

Open 

Sherlock comes back from the dead and John welcomes him home in a most unexpected way.

Family Day

Little Rosie defends her best friend and is pretty smart about it.

The Blanket Detective

Sharing a bed with Sherlock ist perilous.

2 Limericks and 1 Poem 

-----

Also, I wrote two 12k fics, continuously using the other prompts which totally surprised me as their plot developed so quickly nearly without my doing. LOL

-----

The Perfect Place 10k

Sherlock needs a flatmate and already has the perfect person in mind. Now he only needs to convince his object of desire to move in and also find out if he desires Sherlock as well.

This began with the may prompt "box" and developed into the "Bed Shop Boys-AU" (@helloliriels coined this lovely moniker). The only ever AU where John works as a bed shop assistent! This is pure fun and people claimed in the comments to have laughed a lot. Happy Johnlock end!

-----

White Pony Tattoo 11k

John Watson needs a tattoo covered up. Sherlock Holmes of "White Pony Tattoo" is one of the best artists in London. He's also difficult and brilliant and beautiful as John is about to find out.

I love tattoo shop AUs and finally had an idea for writing my own. A little bit of enemies (Sherlock is a beautiful, seductive arsehole at first) to lovers (John finds out what Sherlock is hiding underneath his pricky shell), a bit of hurt/comfort and a happy ending.

-----

Take My Broken Love 48k

Standing on the airfield's tarmac and about to fly off to a suicide mission, Sherlock says what he had always wanted to say to John but never had. His words drastically changed the course of events.

This year's whumptober again sucked me into a deep writing rabbit hole. For about six weeks I used practically all the spare I had (and a lot of time I dd not actually have) to write this. Again, it has been a great experience to be so immersed into writing and again, it was (positively) stressful af.

I had this concept in my mind that all of the main characters' love for someone is broken and flawed.

Starting with an alternative ending of the tarmac scene, the first half of the fic concentrates on their hurt and emotional whump which sets the stage for what happens next. The second half concentrates on Sherlock's mission and features more physical whump. I had a plotty spy mission in my mind with lots of twists and intrigues. I also focused a lot on characterization.

I am still beyond thrilled and incredibly proud that I could pull this off so well. (I know, I'm praising myself, but still, comments confirm it.) I personally think that this is my best writing, technically and plot-wise.

-----

A Minor Detail

Sherlock has found the perfect flatmate for sharing 221b Baker Street. If only there would not be that minor detail in the small print of the lease agreement. Now, John has no other choice but take part in Sherlock‘s scheme.

I participated in Fandom Trumps Hate for the first time this year and @lostinsherlock44 generously bid on me.

I had this funny idea and then, the characters seemingly acted out of their own will and the fic just developed. This is definitely the funniest thing I have ever written and lots of comments tell about readers having laughed out loud. This makes me so very happy in return that my writing could give people a little good time and happiness.

[jeanmoreaux]

Ada Limón, Bright Dead Things (2015)

[itspileofgoodthings]

my seniors have been so quiet all year and it’s been fine cause we’ve had a lot of writing/research to do but I need them to talk to me now so i was hit by a bolt of inspiration two days ago and I made them all tell me their comfort level with sharing aloud, rating themselves on a scale of 1-10. I then averaged the class score and they’re a 4.5. I then told them yesterday we needed to raise the score the tiniest bit. And the 1’s and 2’s didn’t need to be 10’s just maybe 3’s and 4’s. And they tried! They talked more 😭

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 331

Adjective: Old-Fashioned

Noun: Posy

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Old-Fashioned: in or according to styles or types no longer current or common, or not modern; (of a person or their views) favoring traditional and usually restrictive styles, ideas, or customs

Posy: a small bunch of flowers; (archaic) a short motto or line of verse inscribed inside a ring

[satellitesunset]

myle.txt

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[rainintheevening]

It's Edmund who figures it out first, you know, who Aslan is. Like, a week after they're back in England, they go with the Professor to the little village church, and they stand and sing Amazing Grace, and the rector preaches something about Jesus dying for sinners, and Edmund is nailed to the pew with utter certainty: That's Aslan.

He doesn't say it directly to anybody, he has to chew it over, has to test it and try it, and see if it holds true. He and the Professor have many lively discussions about what Narnia actually is, what it's for, what other worlds would mean for science or philosophy or theology. But every time he goes back to the Bible and reads it, he finds echoes of Narnia, echoes of the Lion's voice, and the truth settles into him, becomes something solid and certain deep down inside.

Peter... sees the possibility almost as quickly. He's not so sure of it though, is a bit shy of something so incredible, doesn't want to get it wrong. He wants it to be true. He thinks about it a lot. But he doesn’t say any of it aloud, until he says to Aslan, at the end of his last trip to Narnia. It gets decided then, in there somewhere. He doesn't understand how or why, but he will believe anyway.

Lucy, now, Lucy always knew in a way that was beyond words, unconsciously, deep inside somewhere she never stopped to examine. She stands in Eustace's room, with Aslan’s words ringing in her ears, and it's like a light bulb has come on, or a bucket of cold water has been dumped over her head. Oh. Oh, that's what he meant, oh, now I understand.

And Susan, dear Susan, she suspects, she wonders, but no. Impossible. Too strange, too illogical. Waves it away like a nagging fly. But she figures it out years later, not too late, no sir, not too late at all. Maybe it's a book, maybe it's a song, maybe it's retelling the Easter story to a little girl curled up in her lap. Maybe it's an old poem pulled from the wreckage of a train. She pauses, startled, before the tears come tumbling down, and she murmurs the name she hasn't spoken in what feels like a lifetime, murmus it like a prayer: Aslan.

Jesus.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Diet Pepsi

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: carlos sainz x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: early in the f1 season fans found their love for you, carlos sainz new girlfriend who loves to write him poems. however the fans realized the secret letters you wrote to him were nothing like they thought when you unexpectedly dropped a spicy new song with lyrics taken from the poems.

♥ smau - fc: addison rae - as always none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes, and one hate comment !!!

♥ a/n: ME? posting TWICE in one week?! we're so back. thank you for suggesting this fic idea @1800-love-me <3

-March 19, 2024-

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by carlossainz55, lilymunihe, landonorris, and 230,583 more

yourusername p1 in melbourne. congrats amor <3

view comments

carlossainz55 mi amuleto de buena suerte 😘 - (my good luck charm)

♡ by yourusername

lilymhe it was great to meet you! alex and I had an amazing time :)

yourusername same here! let me know the next time you wanna meet up 🫶

oscarpiastri @/alex_albon double date without me and @/lilyzneimer...

oscarpiastri its literally my home race

alex_albon you don't even know carlos that well 😭

oscarpiastri @/alex_albon do you??

alex_albon @/oscarpiastri ...

yourusername what did I get myself into

user8 she is STUNNING

user4 oh my gosh shes already friends with lily m? I love her already

user7 if the girls love her so do we

landonorris he finally pulled

carlossainz55 "finally"?

landonorris @/carlossainz55 yeah

carlossainz55 @/landonorris says lando norizz

landonorris 😧

user3 I know Carlos did NOT JUST CALL HIM LANDO NORIZZ 😭

user5 HOW DOES CARLOS EVEN KNOW ABOUT THAT

-Post Race Interview Highlights-

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and 463,949

carlossainz55 caught her in the act

tagged; @/yourusername

view comments

yourusername i’m literally just a girl

lilymhe have some respect for your girlfriend !!

yourusername thanks lily

yourusername fine sue me for loving you too much ☹️

landonorris you hold onto her @/carlossainz55

yourusername AWW LANDO 🥹

user1 LANDOO :(

user8 he's the sweetest thing

user3 imagine your girlfriend writing letters to you

user7 she’s a POET

user6 trapped inside the body of a finance guy

♡ by yourusername

user10 oh I love her

user4 the lipstick stains-

user12 shes such a romantic

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, madelineargy, and more

🔒 yn.priv my boy’s a winner, he loves the game, my lips reflect off his cross gold chain

view comments

francisca.cgomes luv you

alexandracooper can’t wait to see you ladies 😘

yourusername <3

yourbestfriend are you working on something…

jyourusername perhaps 🙈

landonorris 🤨

carlossainz55 nos vemos pronto x (i’ll see you soon)

♡ by yourusername

haileybieber you are gorgeous

yourusername no you

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

APRIL 9TH

Y/n and Kika: Wag Life, Industry Parties, & Age-gaps | Call Her Daddy

Join Alex in the studio for an interview with Y/n L/n and Francisca C. Gomes. The two open up about being reduced to their partner's fame, finding independency, and working on their own public brands. They discuss chaotic industry parties, not just within modeling, but the secretive business of Formula One and entering their healthiest relationships. Enjoy!

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

"Y/n and Kika welcome to Call Her Daddy, I'm so happy we're doing this, it's honestly been way too long since we've seen each other," Alex says, beginning the episode. "A lot of people don't know but I've known you for a while now, you were friends with Mads [Argy] first."

"Yeah the two of us met through her but I don't think you've met Kika yet, right?" you ask, looking over towards Francisca.

"No we haven't, so it's really great to meet you," she smiles. "Your modeling careers have been going amazing I saw Kika you worked with ALO and Rhode recently, and Y/n we've been trying to get you on the podcast for like a year now but the thing that solidified this episode in my mind was when I saw Carlos post about your little letters to him."

"Oh my god," you muttered, hiding your face as the other two girls laughed.

"She carries this pink notepad around with her in the paddock," Kika gestures with her fingers.

"We’ve been itching to read your writing so if you ever get around to releasing something definitely hit me up," Alex spoke into the mic.

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

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by carlossainz55, logansargeant, charles_leclerc, and 302,583 more

yourusername who's ready for miami?

view comments

haileybieber me !

yourusername can’t wait to see you 🫶

user1 the collab we indeed knew we needed

user6 yn model career when

user4 @/user6 right?! she’s so stunning

user23 don’t you think it’s weird that she’d get a career bc her boyfriend is famous?

alexandracooper @/user23 looks like someone missed an episode of CHD :/

user8 clock their ass alex

carlossainz55 🕯️ ferrari front row 🕯️

landonorris @/carlossainz55 hey 😕

yourusername 🕯️ logan sargeant podium 🕯️ haas 1-2 🕯️

carlossainz55 @/yourusername …

user13 🗣️🇺🇸🦅

user7 i can’t wait to see yn in the paddock again

user10 same! i wonder how many of the girls are gonna be there

liked by landonorris, yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 1,304,843 more

carlossainz55 amazing drive out there today. proud of you @/landonorris.

view comments

landonorris gracias cabron

♡ by carlossainz55

yourusername *sniffles*

user2 stoppp 🥹

user3 carlando!

user7 they should be a throuple

yourusername i’m considering it

carlossainz55 @/yourusername i saw that

yourusername congrats lando 🧡

landonorris thanks yn ❤️

user1 i’m gonna psychoanalyze the hearts btw

user8 i’m so normal about this 🙂↕️

user10 @/user1 they’re mclaren and ferrari colors 🥹

liked by haileybieber, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55, and more

🔒 yn.priv modeling for @/rhode out here in miami

view comments

haileybieber gorgeous as always. thanks for meeting with us 🤍

yn.priv any time! thank you so much for the opportunity

haileybieber 💋

alexandrasaintmleux literally stunning

yn.priv no you !! have we seen the pictures they took of you for the case?! phenomenal

carlossainz55 ven a casa rápido 😘 (come home quick)

yn.priv sí, señor 🙈

landonorris i wish i could unread this

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

ynfan1 ok but seriously, what’s up with yn and carlos? for some reason everyone's saying they broke up but I can't find any proof at all?

view comments

user4 something something "she's not at every race". she’s got her own life bro huh 😭

user5 didn’t alex cooper say yn was working on a project

user4 @/user5 she did! yn is probably working on that. they both have tight schedules so it’s not like they’ll be around each other 24/7

user7 I miss the yncarlos content so bad

ynfan1 don’t we all

user10 i really hope they didn’t break up

user5 im starting to think they did…

user11 this is such a non issue 😭 it’s been like a few weeks since we heard from them

user6 EXACTLY yall are making up stuff at this point

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by carlossainz55, tatemcrae, madelineargy, and 1,843,950 more

yourusername im so grateful to announce you can now stream my new song diet pepsi on all platforms. the lyrics were taken from the poems i wrote to my lovely boyfriend @/carlossainz55 over the (almost) year we’ve been together. 🤍

view comments

user1 when yn said she wrote poems to carlos this is NOT what i was expecting 😳

user3 SITTIN ON HIS LAP SIPPIN DIET PEPSI

user7 “my boy’s a winner” YES HE IS

user6 releasing this right before monaco? power move.

user2 she’s manifesting for carlos

user1 ferrari 1-2 cmon

tatemcrae i’m obsessed with this song actually

yourusername thank you tate 🫶

user12 CARLOS IS IN THE MV. I REPEAT. CARLOS IS IN THE MV

lilymhe @/alex_albon so this is what you were humming to today 🤔

alex_albon its catchy 🤷‍♂️

landonorris @/yourusername did alex get to hear this song before me

yourusername @/landonorris whaaattt noo that’s crazy

carlossainz55 @/yourusername mi amor he’s sensitive about these things

user8 never beating the throuple allegations

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari, alexandrasaintmleux, and 592,506 more

yourusername congratulations on your win @/charles_leclerc you really are the prince of Monaco. I'm not in person to support my team but I'm there in spirit! I love you @/carlossainz55 congrats on p3 <3

view comments

charles_leclerc merci yn

♡ by yourusername

carlossainz55 thank you amor 🫶 I'm so proud of you as well

yourusername ❤️

user1 are we gonna ignore diet pepsi...

user2 EXACTLY what I was thinking about

alexandrasaintmleux we missed you in the paddock

yourusername missed you too !!

user8 the queen herself

lilymhe obsessed with the new song

yourusername thank you lily 🥹

user10 SOSO impressed with the song. shes an artist now !

user7 right?! the vibes are absolutely immaculate

user9 the imagery >>>

user6 carlos is a lucky man omg

liked by carlossainz55, tatemcrae, landonorris, and 1,030,180 more

yourusername I write my name with lipstick on your chest, I leave a mark so you know I'm the best 💋

comments are restricted

[checkeredscarff]

-ˋˏ ᥕһᥲ𝗍 𝗍һᥱᥡ'rᥱ ᥣіkᥱ ᥕһᥱᥒ 𝗍һᥱᥡ'rᥱ ᥴrᥙsһіᥒg ᥆ᥒ ᥡ᥆ᥙ ˎˊ-

┆What Curly, Anya, and Daisuke are like when they're crushing on you <3!

-ˋˏWarnings┆None!ˎˊ-

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

AU where everyone's living a normal life because I'm not trying to traumatize anyone rn 🫶 my grammar sucks guys so.. erhm.. pretend not to notice it PLEASE. Also this is most DEFINITELY ooc.. especially Curly's part 😞

-♯ ᥴᥙrᥣᥡ

He's so sweet about it because yes. He very subtly flirts with you but he's not in your face about it (if that makes sense). He does little things like getting you your favorite snacks whenever he drops by a gas station or getting you random gifts that you've been talking about for weeks. He never forgets about your birthday and always takes you somewhere (if you don't have a party ofc).

Bonus: He always has something extra on him that specifically pertains to what you might need. For example, he'll carry around different chapsticks for you if that makes sense.

-♯ ᥲᥒᥡᥲ

Anya's actually really chill about it. She doesn't do much other than hang out with you a lot more. She'll come to your house a lot more and cuddle with you but in a 'friendly' way. So she comes to your house for a sleep over and just sleeps in your bed with you. She'll also cook for you in the mornings of said sleepovers.

Bonus: I like to think she writes poems about you and keeps them all in a drawer or container you do don't know about them <3

-♯ ძᥲіsᥙkᥱ

He's probably the most obvious about it.. (doesn't really realize it either). He'll hang out with you more, to a point where it gets kind of annoying. He takes you with him everywhere, even if it's not necessary. He let's you borrow a TON of his stuff, whether it be clothes, books, games, just take it! He shares all of his food with you and buy's you a ton of stuff but never asks for money back. He comes over whenever he can, even if it's just quick visits.

Bonus: he knows all of your favorite snacks and foods.

Thank you for reading! -🪻

[obsessedwithceleste]

You’re Not Everyone Else

Lorenzo Berkshire x reader

Based on this request🫶🏽

Summary: Enz thought he knew everything there was to know when it came to wooing pretty witches, but it will take a lot more than the botanical gardens to win you over.

word count: 4.4k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

You glare menacingly at the offending bundle of flowers propped up perfectly against your pillow, practically glowing as the sunlight streams onto them through the window. As if it were a sign that the flowers were bloody heaven sent.

Daphne’s mouth is practically on the floor as she watches you dump the fresh bouquet of expensive looking tulips directly into the trash can.

The flowers had been waiting for you on your bed when you came back from class, and you didn’t need to read the note attached to guess who they were from.

You can tell that she wants to protest, but you cut her off before she’s able to even get a word in.

“Don’t. You know how I feel about Berkshire. It’s not going to happen.” You sigh, rolling your eyes at the mere thought of Lorenzo Berkshire actually managing to weasel his way into your heart.

That boy was no good. He had a pretty face and the charisma to go along with it. He was nothing but a womanizer and you had heard all the stories to prove it. In fact, there was probably an alphabetized list of all the girls that had fallen victim to Lorenzo Berkshire floating around somewhere. He practically had his pick of the litter when it came to the Hogwarts dating pool, and yet for some reason he had landed his sights on you.

You could remember the first time Daphne had brought you to the Parkinson estate, introducing you to all of her friends. He had been their. Young, but charming as ever. He had been kind then. And sweet. But that was just to lure you in. By Christmas that same year you had heard all about his escapades and wanted nothing to do with it.

Daphne, to her credit, had tried to dissuade you, vouching for her friend, but you could never quite see past the swirling whispers that seemed to damper the boy's shine. He was her friend. Fine. He had been her friend first after all, but that was all he'd ever be. A friend of a friend.

But it had been years at this point, of flowers being left in your dorm room, chocolates, even soppy love poems declaring his affection for you, but you were having none of it. And it seemed the more you pushed the boy away, the more determined he was to make you his.

“It’s so romantic though,” Daphne protests, looking like she’s debating fishing the flowers out of the trash can. It was the third bouquet this week. And it was only Tuesday.

“Pft. Manipulative is more like it. He only wants one thing Daph, and you know it,” you reply, collapsing onto your bed with an annoyed huff.

Your friend is silent for a moment, mulling over her words.

"You liked him at one point. You told me so," she says finally.

"Sure, when I was thirteen. He's only after me now cause he likes the chase. He'll get bored," you reply, rolling your eyes slightly and brushing off the girl's comment.

Your roommate lets out a sigh, wringing her hands as she takes a seat on her own bed across the room.

“Oh I don’t think Enz would do that to you. I’ve known him since we were kids. He seems so serious about this.” Daphne replies.

You’d heard Daph say that same thing what felt like a million times over since this whole thing started.

“Yeah, well. It’s going to take a lot more than the botanical gardens to win me over.”

Lorenzo Berkshire was infamously known around the halls of Hogwarts for his flirtatious tendencies. It didn’t bother him much, even though half the things being said about him weren’t true in the slightest. But really what was denying any of it going to do?

Let people think what they want was what he always thought. Only one person’s opinion really mattered anyway. Yours.

Lorenzo had always been the romantic of the group, not that there was really any competition for the title, but still. From the day he met you, he knew that you were the one. You were perfect. Funny, and smart, and kind, always playfully bantering with your friends.

He remembered the summer after third year when Daphne had introduced you to the group. All of you gathered at the Parkinson estate. You had swept Theo in chess and Lorenzo had just sat there staring at you. Completely mesmerized. After that everyone seemed to love you, and you seemed to get along with everyone too. Even him. At first.

The first few months were bliss. Lorenzo loved making you laugh, seeing you smile. He knew then that he was down bad. But then, halfway through your fourth year, it was like a switch had flipped. He didn’t have the faintest clue as to why you suddenly seemed to have a certain level of hostility towards him. But he knew that he missed you.

“What in Salazar’s name could I have possibly done wrong?” Lorenzo groans, head falling back, face in hands as he leans back on the common room sofa. “I thought I was doing everything girls want. I send flowers. I send sweets. I even wrote her heart felt poems about how I feel about her!”

“That is disgusting. Have some dignity,” Draco snorts from his spot across from Lorenzo who just sticks his tongue out at the blonde boy in response.

“Oh hush Draco. I think it all sounds perfectly reasonable,” Pansy remarks, giving Enzo a nod of approval.

“Well it would be perfectly reasonable if it worked! She won’t even give me a second glance. She’s so nice to everyone. Bubbly and sweet and talkative. But as soon as I’m around she clams up! Did you know she’s helping Mattheo with charms right as we speak? Bloody traitor he is.” Lorenzo laments.

To be fair, you had had an upstanding tutoring session with Mattheo for weeks now, instituted my Professor Flitwick, but minor details.

“Well she is pretty talented when it comes to charms,” Daphne says awkwardly, lips pursed as she shifts uncomfortably in her seat, trying not to be noticed.

Pansy squints at her friend, squirming and fidgeting. It was entirely unlike her. She was usually the one with her head screwed on correctly.

“Hold on Daph. You know something. What is it?” She demands.

Daphne looks at the raven haired girl in alarm, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders not daring to utter a word.

“Daph, come on, look at this man. He’s utterly pathetic,” Draco adds, gesturing towards the distressed brunette. Enzo glares at his friend.

“Just spit it out,” Pansy orders.

“She thinks you’re just trying to use her for sex!” Daphne blurts out, crumbling under the pressure.

Lorenzo blinks once. Then again.

“What?”

Daphne just shrugs once more rather helplessly as the group just stares at her as if she would solve all of Enzo’s problems.

“To be perfectly fair, there are a lot of rumors about you that have been circulating for years. I think, you just might be coming off a bit- ah, disingenuous perhaps?” Daphne says finally.

She could practically see the gears working in Lorenzo’s head as he takes in her words. She’s a bit worried she’d broken him when he remains silent for what seems like forever.

“I have so much work to do,” he announces finally, standing up and marching off to his dormitory, a look of fierce determination sketched onto his face.

“Oh now look what you’ve done Daph,��� Draco groans, looking at the retreating back of his friend.

“She’s the one who made me say something,” Daphne protests, pointing an accusatory finger at Pansy.

“Shush Draco. None of us wanted to hear him monologue about his undying love again anyway,” Pansy retorts.

To be quite honest, you were feeling a bit ambushed as none other than Lorenzo Berkshire plopped down beside you on the sofa that you had claimed in one of the rather abandoned corners of the library.

“Afternoon love,” he chirps happily, shooting you one of his famous smiles. The kind that normally made girls melt at the mere sight.

“Hello Lorenzo.”

“You never responded to my note,” the boy chatters on, ignoring your clear disinterest in his presence. You really weren’t sure if the boy didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

“What note?”

The boy blinks at you. “The note I sent with the tulips the other day?” He replies, as if it should have been obvious.

“Oh. I threw those away.”

“Oh, you threw them aw- what?” He asks, apparently caught off guard by your nonchalant answer.

“I threw them away, placed them in the trash can, sentenced them to eternal damnation. Do try to keep up Enz.”

“Wha- why?” He splutters, genuinely looking a bit hurt.

You look at the boy raising an eyebrow. "I throw away all of your flowers."

"All of them?"

"Are you daft?"

Lorenzo's jaw is practically on the floor, his ego clearly being knocked down a peg or ten.

"Yes- I mean no- I mean- why are you throwing away my flowers?" He splutters.

Growing increasingly more frustrated, you glare at the boy.

"Can you quite down? And if I can be quite honest Lorenzo, I'm not exactly your biggest fan. It's nothing personal of course, you understand," you sigh, trying to get back to your reading.

Enzo is having none of it however as he tries to replay every interaction he could think of between the two of you. He simply doesn't understand. He thought he'd never been anything but a gentleman to you.

"You don't like me? Me specifically? But- you like everyone!"

It was true. Lorenzo had never heard a bad thing about you from anyone. Not even Draco had a bad word to say since you seemed to go out of your way to show kindness to everyone around you.

"Yes well, you're not everyone else Lorenzo."

Lorenzo's mind races as he stares at you in shock. You looked awfully lovely today. Damn it, stay focused. He just wanted you to see him. Was that too much to ask?

"I'm not just trying to use you for sex!" he blurts out, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth, staring at you wide eyed. Real smooth Berkshire.

With a groan, you snap your book shut, closing your eyes in frustration as you realize that you're not going to be getting any reading done with Lorenzo sitting next to you.

Taking a slow inhale, you turn to get a good look at the boy beside you. Fluffy brown hair, warm, earnest eyes, only marred by the subtle pout adorning his lips.

“Let’s just say I were to give you a chance-“ you start.

“You won’t regret it. Pick you up at 8 tomorrow!” He replies, jumping in, the widest smile gracing his face.

Looking at the boy was like looking at a golden retriever puppy. You knew he was anything but, but how could you say no to that face?

“Alright Berkshire. One chance. Then, I never want to hear about this again.”

He was not going to blow this. He simply wouldn’t allow himself to. Everything that he had been working for these past months was leading up to this, he just couldn’t let it slip through his fingers. Enzo was giddy with anticipation as he lead you carefully down the cobblestone path.

“You better not be leading me out to the forest to murder me,” you call out to the boy behind you, his hands firmly in place over your eyes.

You were only half joking.

Before he even needs to respond, Enzo drops his hands and you’re immediately hit with bright sunlight.

“Where are we?” You ask in shocked amazement, staring around at the garden before you. It was straight out of a fairytale really. Bright, glowing green leaves, flowers of every color. There were even little, glittering sprites dancing about the flora.

“Hogwarts gardens. You never been?” Enzo asks, walking over to a spread on the lawn that you hadn’t even registered yet.

It was clear that he had put in some effort. The soft blanket laid out on the grass was littered with fruits and pastries, even a variety of little sandwiches.

“Didn’t even know this place existed,” you mutter, allowing the boy to guide you to a nice, sunny spot on the lawn.

“I’ve been working out here with Sprout for years. My favorite place,” Enzo tells you offhandedly, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

Under the warm sunlight, he looked unreal. Like an ethereal creature who took a wrong turn and somehow ended up sitting in front of you. You really could see what all the fuss was about when he was staring intently at you, a soft smile gracing his lips.

Wait.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realize you’d been staring as well, but Enzo doesn’t seem to mind.

“I think Daph mentioned that you were some herbology buff,” you say in an attempt to recover a bit of your dignity.

Enzo smirks. “I suppose that’s one way to put it. I am top of the class.”

“I thought that honor went to Longbottom,” you reply, picking at the food in front of you.

Lorenzo's face turns to a grimace.

"He could be real competition if he weren't a such pyromaniac. Sprout is still giving him the cold shoulder after he almost burned her prized Cobra Lily. Thing deserved it though. Always hissing at me."

You don't know why, but you can't help but let out a laugh at the thought of the Lorenzo Berkshire having an ongoing feud with a plant.

"Haha, yeah. You laugh now, but that bloody plant has been antagonizing me for weeks. I'm one hiss away from dropping the damn thing off of the astronomy tower." He responds sarcastically to your laughter, only causing you to fall into a further fit of giggles. The brunette boy just sticks his tongue out at you in defeat.

"Oh come on now, that's no way charm a witch," you tease, pulling yourself together as you grin at the boy in front of you.

"Yeah, well I've tried every other way I can think of, so it was worth a shot," Enz replies, his joking smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Your grin falters as Enzo's eyes drop to the grass surrounding the both of you and you take in the sudden silence of the gardens.

"It's hard to believe someone actually likes you when you're just another face in the crowd," you say finally, not willing to meet the boy's eyes.

"You don't have to believe me now. I'll wait."

It was a moment of sincerity that you weren't expecting out of the boy. Usually he was all jokiness and smiles. Not a bad quality by any means, but you were never sure when you could trust the boy's words. You felt like you could trust him now though, in that moment.

After that, you find yourself quite enjoying your afternoon. You had forgotten how easily the two of you actually got on when you weren't avoiding the boy like the plague. He had so many stories about the gardens, and it quickly became apparent that the particular spot he had brought you to was his sanctuary. It was nice getting to hear him talk, without all the extra noise and whispers, and off-putting looks from your classmates. You had missed him.

In the days following your garden excursion, Enzo keeps his word- backing off a bit from his pursuit for your affection. He was still around of course as you shared a friend group, but the excessive love poems had stopped and the next bouquet of tulips that appeared in your dorm was addressed to both you and Daph which she was thrilled about.

Over the next few weeks, it did not go unnoticed by you that your eyes had seemingly become magnetized to a certain brunette boy, quietly observing. He'd caught you watching a few times, tossing you one of his famous, dazzling smiles.

Slowly, you find yourself seeking the boy out on purpose as you found that you rather liked the way he had been able to make you laugh so easily that day in the garden. You had forgotten how much fun he was to be around. How warm and happy you felt when he looked at you. And he was rather sweet when he wanted to be. You had known the boy for years at this point. You thought you could read him like a book, but he still managed to surprise you.

In fact, you were as surprised as anyone to find yourself seated next to the boy in your astronomy class. It was a relatively new seating arrangement, but you found that he made the late night class significantly more tolerable. You didn't know what time it was now, but it was late, and you were tired.

"If you fall asleep, I'm not going to catch you if you fall out of the tower," Enz whispers in your ear as you fight to keep your eyes open and trained on the night sky.

"Yes you would, you’re too obsessed with me to let me fall," you respond, still able to feel his breath on the back of your neck.

You couldn't remember when the two of you got so comfortable with one another, but it had happened so quickly you almost didn't realize. Almost.

He hums in response, backing away and scribbling down the name of some constellation before gazing out at the sky once more.

“Whose idea even was it to let sleep deprived teenagers take a class at midnight in a tower without railings. They’re practically asking for a student to fall,” you grumble, slumping against Enz dramatically.

He lets out a soft snort of laughter this time as he continues to chart different constellations onto his parchment. You had finished the night's assignment ages ago and now had nothing to do but watch him quietly, resting your chin on his shoulder as he draws perfect little stars.

“What’s that?” You ask, reaching over the boys shoulder to pull something out of the notebook.

The soft pink color had caught your eye, peeking out of the pages, and a gentle tug reveals the petals of a tulip, followed by a green step. The flower isn’t as vibrant as it should be, and is flattened like a book page.

Enzo pauses, looking at the flower carefully.

“That’s from the first time we met.” He says, trying hard to sound casual. He continues to stare down at his notebook, but the stiffness in his arm makes it clear that he isn’t focused on stars anymore.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion.

“Pansy doesn’t have tulips at the estate,” you reply, suddenly feeling more awake.

“No. But the greenhouse here does.”

Feeling even more confused, you tilt your head, waiting for Enzo to go on.

He carefully plucks the flower out of your hand, tucking it safely back into his notebook.

“The first time we met was in second year. We were learning the Herbivicus charm and I just couldn’t get it. But you got it so quick. You helped me, and that’s the flower we grew.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t even remember that day. It seemed so insignificant to you at the time.

“And you kept it?” You ask, your confusion amplified by your sleepy haze.

“I liked you,” is all you get in response.

You’re quiet after that, watching silently as Enzo scratches away at his parchment. His eyes flickering over to you nervously every so often. It was strange seeing him without his usual confident smirk.

As class eventually wraps up, the two of you slowly make your way down the winding staircase, quickly falling behind the other students who were racing off to get some much needed rest.

Your feet reach the final step with a muffled thud as you come to a hesitant stop. Normally this is where you and Enzo would split off for the night, but looking up at the boy, rays of moonlight glowing across his face, you can’t find it in yourself to move away.

With a sudden wave a confidence, impulsiveness, and probably a fair bit of deliriousness, you find yourself grabbing onto the collar of Enzo’s shirt, pulling down, and crashing his lips onto yours.

It takes a moment for realization to fully hit Enz, but you quickly find yourself back against the cold stone wall, Enzo’s lips still firmly on yours, deepening the kiss as he boxes you in. He moves against you with sheer lust, years of pining pouring out.

You vaguely feel his hand moving up your thigh, gripping tightly at your waist before moving up to cup your face, thumb brushing against your cheek softly tilting your head up further as his lips move against yours.

It’s hot, and dizzying, and just, right. You’re not quite sure how to describe it.

When Enz finally pulls away, you can feel his breath against your lips from his soft pants as he looms over you.

“I think a like you too,” you murmur, lips just barely brushing his with every word.

That’s apparently all Enzo needed to hear before he’s practically carrying you back to his dorm.

It’s a blurry haze as you find yourself pulling him onto the bed, lips connecting once more as your bodies move methodically against each other. It’s as if you’d simply turned off your brain, any worries or doubts scattering to the winds as Enzo’s warmth overtakes you.

The next morning a wave of icey cold fear washes over you as you realize what you’d done. What had you been thinking? All these years of avoiding him and for what? Rolling over in the tangle of sheets, Enz is still fast asleep, bathed in streams of sunlight peaking through the curtains. He really was gorgeous.

“Mornin love,” his voice shaking you from your thoughts.

“Hi,” you reply cautiously, turning to meet the boy’s eyes.

His eyes shine as he grins contentedly at you, pulling you closer so your noses are practically touching.

“I can tell what you’re thinking. Stop it. You’re stuck with me now,” he says, pressing a quick peck onto your lips.

Your face grows warm as he continues to pepper your face with kisses.

“I don’t ever want to leave this moment,” you sigh.

You can feel Enzo’s smile.

“I’m that good am I?” He asks cockily.

You snort. “Don’t want to have to admit to Daph that I can actually tolerate you for extended periods of time.”

“Aw, c’mon now love, don’t be like that,” Enz chuckles, tapping your nose lightly with his finger.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh as you feign annoyance, batting his hand away.

“I’m going back to sleep. I don’t want to deal with you anymore,” you tease, rolling over.

Enz just laughs, snaking his arm around you and pulling you close, pressing a kiss on the back of your head.

“Now that I have you, I’m not letting you go,” he murmurs as you allow your eyes to flutter shut once more.

“Wouldn’t want to be with anyone else.”

Did I start writing this way back in April? Yes. Do I remember what the original plot was going to be? No. Is this edited? Also no.

Anyway, Live Laugh Love Lorenzo Berkshire🤪

[spiderb00]

Clueless - Daniela Avanzini

Daniela Avanzini X reader 

Synopsis: You were surprised to see, that a woman like that would really be into you. 

Genre: Fluff 

a/n: I think I'm going to write for other people outside of Katseye, I don't know, I'm experimenting. But while that doesn't happen, I had this plot idea with Daniela. 

Maybe I made a mistake in writing, I'm too lazy to revise. <3 

You met Dani a few weeks ago, it wasn't planned, but it ended up happening. The agreement was that you would stop by the Kats' house to pick up Megan, a mutual friend of yours, Kylie Cantrall, had asked the two of you to hang out. 

It turns out that Megan wasn't ready when you arrived, so while you were on the couch, fiddling with your phone, a voice took your attention away. 

"Uh, hello?" when you looked up your mind tied a knot. Sure, you'd already seen Daniela in Katseye's MV, but damn, She looked prettier up close.

"Hi, I'm Yn, sorry, I'm just waiting for Megan." You said, trying not to look like an idiot. 

"Oh sure, Yn, Megan talks a lot about you. I'm Daniela." She says shaking your hand. It could be something in your head, but she had looked you up and down, she seemed to be checking on you.   

"So, are you and Megan something more or what?" Daniela says biting her lower lip. Her head was racing, how could she be so incredibly hot?   

"What? No, we're just good friends." you say, your voice faltering.  

"Good to know." She says as she looks at you.   

Your head doesn't have time to process what she said, because Megan had just appeared in the room, dragging you out and saying goodbye to Daniela.   

Your other opportunity to meet Daniela was when you and Megan got together for a sleepover. The orange-haired girl proposed that you spend the night right after a party. And as it seemed too dangerous to return home at that time, you accepted the invitation.   

So there you were, coming out of the bathroom in sweatpants and a spider-man t-shirt, courtesy of the changes of clothes you leave in your car. When you opened the door, Daniela was there, in all her glory, leaning against the doorframe. And you could drool in her pajamas, even if it was just a big sweatshirt and short shorts. 

"Wow, I must have done something really good to get the universe to leave you in my bathroom." If it came from anyone else, you'd think it's extremely stupid, but when it comes out of Daniela's mouth, it sounds like the most beautiful poem.  

"Hi Dani, I'm sorry, if I had known you wanted to use the bathroom I would have been quicker." You said, thanking the heavens that your mind was able to formulate a sentence.   

"It's okay, the wait was worth it, you're cute in your pajamas." She said as she fiddled with the collar of her T-shirt.  

Goosebumps running through your body, your short-circuited brain can't formulate anything, but you can hear a giggle from Dani in the background, followed by the bathroom door closing.   

You've always been interested in music, and when Lara said she needed a guitar riff for a production she was working on, you immediately offered to help her.  

So now while Lara was getting some snacks in the kitchen you were in her room working on the riff you would make, so concentrated that you didn't hear Daniela's footsteps getting closer and closer.   

"I didn't think you could get hotter, but I underestimated you." she said, a smile on her face when she saw you jump slightly in fright.  

"Dani, I didn't know you were there." You said, nervous hands scratching the back of your neck.  

"How long have you been playing guitar?" she asks sitting next to him, in the chair where Lara used to be occupied.   

"Since I was a child. I've always loved music, so I kind of love all of it." You said, your eyes traveling between Daniela, your guitar and Lara's things.  

"This is so cool, I've always wanted to learn how to play guitar, maybe you can teach me one day." Daniela says, her gaze never averting from you, making you more nervous.  

"Of course, I'd love to hear you sing too, you have a very beautiful voice." 

Daniela smiles when you look at her, the two of you in silence. Her intense looks seemed to mean something, something you didn't know.   

"You're very pretty," Daniela says, her eyes moving from your mouth back to your eyes.  

"What? Have you seen yourself? You're one of the prettiest girls I know, Dani."   

Again, she doesn't say anything, her big brown eyes staring at you. It seemed that with every second she became more beautiful, How is this possible?

The exchange of glances was interrupted when Lara entered the room, her hand full of snacks and red bull, the perfect combination for hours of work.   

"Dani, I love you, but it's not time to make your move, we have a lot to work on.   

Lara said, shooing a half-dazed Daniela out of her chair.   

What did you mean by "making your move"? 

By this time your friendship with the Kats was much stronger, you loved those girls, but you were still confused by Dani's advances, you kept telling yourself that this should be her way, just a relaxed way to play with your friends. Yes, that was it, you knew friends who flirted, it's okay.  

Man, you couldn't be more wrong.   

It was Lara's birthday, everyone was having fun at the surprise party that Lara's girlfriend ;) prepared. Everything seemed calm, you even started flirting with a girl, one of Lara's friends, you were talking and laughing here and there, to be honest you didn't have much in common, but it wouldn't hurt to exchange a few words. 

Everything seemed right, until you felt footsteps approaching.   

"Excuse me, I can talk to Yn a second, thank you." Daniela pulled you without waiting for answers from the girl you were talking to, and soon you found yourself locked inside one of the rooms of the house.   

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?" Daniela screamed, you were surprised, of course. Why was this extremely beautiful and hot girl yelling at you?  

"What? What did I do?" You said, your shoulders slumping as you waited for an explanation from the Latina in front of you. 

"You were letting that girl flirt with you!" The Latina looked furious and disappointed, you just didn't understand why.   

"Dani, it's okay, why are you so mad about this?"   

“’CAUSE IT SHOULD BE ME!"   

When the curly-haired girl screamed you weren't sure anything, you weren't sure if you had heard it right, you weren't sure if they were talking about the same thing. Damn, you weren't even sure if she was yelling at the right person.   

"What... What does that mean?"  

"It means I like you." Daniela sits on the bed, looking defeated.   

"I've liked you since the day I met you, every moment we spend together, every moment we're interrupted by someone, all those moments, I just wish I could say I like you. But it looks like you're so dumb-"  

"Hey!" You interrupted.   

"I flirted with you, I tried to impress you, I tried to get us to spend more time together, but nothing worked." Daniela said, her voice growing with each word, making the Latina get up from the bed, making her gaze travel from the floor to you, only to see you wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights. 

"You're so oblivious to everything around you, I just wanted you to ask me out, idiot! I didn't want to spend another minute without you holding my hand or kissing me. And all I've done, for all these months is send you signals, that you clearly don't understand why you're-"  

Suddenly the room was silent again, Daniela's complaints fading as her hands wrapped around your hair, if it was you she wanted, then she would have it.   

Your hands pulled her waist closer, so close that it felt like the two of you could enter each other's bodies. All the stored desire now completely exposed in the kiss you shared, Daniela seemed to melt in your hands and when you least expected it you were kissing desperately and walking to bed.   

When your knees bent and you fell on the bed, you could feel Daniela's legs on either side of your body, the feeling was invigorating, you both seemed to have been waiting for this forever, Daniela knows better. Then, when the breath started to go away, you moved away, Daniela resting her hands on your abdomen, looking at you with heart eyes.  

"I'm not very good at understanding tips, for me it was just a joke." you said, being the first to break the silence.   

"I gave you all the signs I could." The curly-haired girl said as she rolled her eyes and smiled at you. 

"yes, but how was I going to know that a woman like that was really into me." You said, as you sat still with her on your lap, stealing a quick kiss from the Latina.   

"Well, now you know, what are you going to do about it?" She said as she wrapped her arms around your neck.   

"I'm going to go on a date with the hottest girl in the world." 

[hellishjoel]

ungodly and unprofessional

5.6k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog

summary: who said anything about falling in love? you're just co-workers. warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), smoking, descriptions of food and drink, reader is described to have hair (not descriptive of what color/length/etc.) and wears a waitress uniform, explicit smut, consensual somnophilia, swearing, pet names, allusions to bad parenting/parental abuse, descriptions of a parent abusing drugs and alcohol (please heed these warnings and do not read if you are concerned these may be triggers), lastly not beta'd (lmk if you're interested!) A/N: five or six months later, who really knows. believe it or not, I was never not working on this or thinking about it for all of those months... which is crazy. I completely wing these chapters which is probably why it takes so long but you guys don't mind, right? enjoy these cuties falling deeper <3 I almost forgot - shoutout to BistroHuddy on TikTok because one of their segments inspired something in here (but no spoilers!)

“To love someone is firstly to confess: I'm prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy-Ray Belcourt. 

You have this silly poetry book someone gave you as a birthday present or holiday gift exchange a few years ago. You’ve never picked it up until now. You’re shocked to say all of these cheesy love quotes and poems make you think of one very specific person: a guy with dark curls, a scruffy beard, amber eyes, and the perfect smile. Francisco. 

Falling for a man like Frankie feels like growing up— a sign of maturing compared to the ghosts of terrible boyfriend's past. 

Come to find out, it’s easier to go for the wrong guys, easier on your heart in a way — you don’t feel like you are actually losing anything. 

That’s why you would bet on losing dogs. Invest your emotions and need for romance in those who don’t reciprocate. The ones who despise commitment or lack emotional availability leave you in a state of disappointment. 

Better that than full-blown heartache. Better than ripping yourself open at the seams for another, only to be the one to sew yourself back up again. But not better than winning. 

The letter Frankie’s father sent him weeks ago had been burned into your brain. Every single word, each break of a new paragraph, lines of apologies, and convincing stories of ‘the good times’ they used to have. 

Frankie appeared to be just as wary about the letter as you were, neither of you so easily trusting. Frankie didn’t trust his father, but you did trust Frankie—end of story. 

You’ve never known Frankie to be so tightly closed about something that bothers him. He was the type of man who wears his heart on his sleeve, an open book. 

Aside from allowing you to read the letter, you two have barely spoken about it. And not due to your lack of trying. 

There wasn’t a need for you to bring clarity to the situation, it wasn’t up to you to encourage Frankie to allow his father back into his life. But there was still a lot of emotional trauma that he carried that he didn’t have to bear alone. You just wanted him to know that you support him in whatever avenue he decides is best. 

To forgive or to forget. 

Frankie releases a sigh from his parted lips, squeezing his eyes closed tighter as your alarm chimes from your phone on the bedside table. He hates the fucking morning shift. 

The air is sticky and thick, and the fan on his bedroom ceiling is doing little to help. Late August is still taking its toll on Texas and its residents, but he’s reminded that this time last year, he sunk down on his knees in the back kitchen and tasted you on his tongue for the first time. Can’t believe it’s been a year since then. Plus all the events that have transpired since. 

There’s no label between you two other than the fact you are exclusive— putting your focus on each other and not seeing other people. It was good, better than nothing with you. 

His eyelashes finally flutter open, seeing you shift in the dark to turn off the alarm, only to dig your face deep into your pillow. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. 

Frankie is by no means a morning person, but waking up beside you has changed his perspective. Your hair is a scattered mess, the ponytail having fallen loose in the tosses and turns of last night. The sunlight peaking through the blinds highlights the slope of your nose and Cupid’s bow. Arms tucked into your front, leg hiked up like a ballerina.

His mind starts to swirl at the conversation you shared recently, that you wanted to try something… new. To be surprised. To be taken by him in your sleep. 

He was shocked to hear you say it, all shy and meek - it’s not a side of you he sees often. But it’s the vulnerability talking, advocating the trust you share together. 

“I want to wake up with you inside me.”

Frankie had to blink a few times, his large hand cradling your jaw as you spoke in whispers between the sheets. “You— I didn’t know you’d be into that sort of thing.”

“We don’t have to if it’s not your thing. But there’s something about you moving me where you want me to be, being completely under your control, even a little helpless,” you pause, uncertain if your words would scare him off. 

The exact opposite. Frankie was intrigued. 

“The thrill of trying not to wake you up.” He continues, watching your glowing smile return, indicating that Frankie understands why this would feel good to you. 

“My natural reaction, trusting you, knowing that you’ll be careful, knowing that you’re using me— it’s hot, Frankie. You have my consent, I wanna try.” 

Frankie’s stomach churns with excitement, butterflies spreading through his abdomen and up to his chest, his heart thunking eagerly. 

He was slow and methodical, not wanting you to stir from your sleepy state. Nipping at his lower lip, teeth piercing the skin, he works up the courage to touch you. A rough and calloused hand travels up your side, pushing up your sleep tee and watching goosebumps line the tips of his fingers.

Frankie presses slow kisses to the top of your shoulder, feeling his cock swell against the plump of your ass in all of the excitement. He whispers your name, soft and raspy with the morning hour. Other than a small twitch of your nose, you’re out cold. 

“Shh, s’okay angel, m’gonna make you feel good.” The desire stirs in his stomach, urging him to please you in your sleep just like you asked. 

With two crooked fingers, he curls them around the band of your panties and slowly drags them down your soft thighs. You let out a slow sigh between your parted lips, Frankie pausing to watch as you settle once more. 

 Slipping two skilled fingers between your legs, he slowly massages up and down your folds. He’s surprised to already feel the slick between your legs, a low groan of approval leaving the depths of his throat. 

There’s a shift, your hips squirming for more of his touch. You’re so perfectly pliant for him, causing the embers low in his belly to grow with anticipation, the blood rushing to his cock as it hardens against the curve of your ass. 

“Good girl,” he remarks as you let out a little whimper upon the pads of Frankie’s fingers finding your swollen clit. “Even asleep, you’re nice and wet for me, princess.” 

Goddammit, he thinks, how does she have this much of an effect while perfectly asleep? He can’t stand the feeling of not touching her, the carnal need to take her was strong like a magnet, forcing their bodies together. 

One yank and he was out of his briefs, chewing on his lower lip in concentration. He needed to move you, to perfectly fit in the nook of your body, you’d have to be good and yield to him. 

Frankie hikes up your leg and fills in the spaces between your bodies, stroking over himself as he slowly lines his leaking tip along your entrance. Just as he notches his tip inside, a quiet and sleepy gasp leaves your perfect pillowy lips. 

“Right there, baby, you just stay right there for me,” Frankie growls against your ear, his hips flush with yours as he slowly lets inch by inch of him be swallowed by your warm cunt. 

After that, there wasn’t a lot of nicety to him. The level of control he carried was lost. He just wanted to take and take, feel and fuck. He wants to use you like his own personal toy; do whatever he pleases with no resistance. You were his to devour. 

He’s still inside you, but he’s gotten this far, and you’re still out. Even in sleep, you’re pulsing around his cock, so fucking tight around him that it steals the air from his lungs. There’s a hint of discomfort in your face, a quiet gasp held within your expression. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, the hand he holds firmly on your hip now moving under your sleep tee. 

You were so fucking accessible to him, so beautiful, so peaceful being fucked raw. 

He rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, getting the reaction he’s been waiting for all morning. A sweet, slow moan tumbles loose from your throat, your hips reeling back to grind against Frankie’s lap. 

He’s somewhat pleased he knows you this well, knows what gets you worked up and gushing. The fact that even in your sleep, you have this reaction towards him makes the fire burning inside his abdomen grow. Maybe a deep part of him gets off on knowing you so well. 

Frankie lets out a sigh at his own thoughts, lightly nipping the skin of your exposed shoulder as he slowly rolls his hips back and glides in again, feeling the drag of your tight pussy keeping him lubed up and warm.

If he weren’t so desperate to fuck you, he’d love to just sit inside you like this all goddamn day. It would probably give him the same comfort as the first cup of coffee. 

He gives your breast one more firm squeeze before returning the attention back to your clit, all desperate and tingling with each eager circle he gives you. 

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers against your ear, his hips continuing at a steady pace until he simply needs more. He hikes up your leg once again to allow himself more movement, smirking as your ass smacks against the front of his hips with each thrust that now jostles your body. 

You’ll surely wake any moment, shocked and sleepy and startled at his cock so deep inside your perfectly spent cunt. 

You whimper each time he fills you, your face digging into the pillow as you moan against the cover. Frankie’s efforts grow needy and demanding, fisting your hair out of his way as he sucks marks into your neck; teeth and tongue massaging the skin before leaving a bruise in its wake.

A sweet little sob exits your parted lips, Frankie groaning at the pretty little noises you make. 

“Take me so well, princess. You want me to keep fuckin’ you, huh?” He snarls against your neck, smirking as you hiss at the sensations you’re feeling all throughout your body.  

Suddenly, your eyes flutter open. They absorb the settings around you and it all clicks. A long, desperate moan crawls from the depths of your throat, your movements sluggish but your hand eventually clasps onto Frankie’s forearm, his fingers still swirling around your clit. 

“Ohmy— Frankie, fuck,” you gasp as you feel the full force of his cock drilling deep inside your pussy. Your voice is still thick with sleep, eyes cloudy with lust, and skin-prickling sensations that you had never felt before; a million emotions, but the standout being desperation to come undone like this with a man you trust. 

“This what you wanted, angel? Wake up with my cock stuffed between your legs?” Frankie smirks as he presses his lips against your cheek, jaw dropping against your own as you ride out the high together. 

You cry out something wrecked, a garble of syllables as your spine arches against his front. You weren’t given the pleasure of feeling the orgasm build and build; you woke up at its high heat. 

In an instant, your skin was clammy, hair sticking to your skin as desperate pants filled the room, along with broken moans of Frankie’s name. 

It’s exactly what you wanted, maybe better. Yes, way better. 

You’re so tight, literally clinging to every single inch he gives you as your slick drenches his cock. Your nails dig into his tan skin, feeling the muscles and tendons work to play with your clit. 

A whimper leaves you as the warmth in your stomach boils over, turning your head over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face. His eyes are dark, cast over with lust as he stole you in your sleep. In an instant, he meets you with a messy kiss, your bodies and the bed still jolting with each rough thrust he gives you. 

“Please,” you moan against his lips, nodding your head as you look into his eyes. “Come inside me, I wanna feel it, please, give it to me, Frankie,” your words turn into a whine as he begins to fuck you harder, deeper, his tip tickling your cervix as you damn near blackout from the pleasure. 

The pleasure inside of you finally reaches the surface. The feeling was like a wave breaching over your rocky shores, washing over you both in pleasure as your cunt spasms around his thick cock. 

Frankie spoils your clit as his hips snap against your ass, one, two, three more times before the feeling of you overcomes him. He braces you tightly in his arms, panting against your shoulder, eyes clenching closed as he lets out broken grunts of release. He paints your insides with his spend, both of you relaxing in one another’s hold as you slowly descend from heaven. 

“Jesus Christ,” Frankie breathes, shaking his head with a tilted smirk. “You don’t know what you do to me.” He remarks as you look over your shoulder in a haze. 

You whimper as you pull him in closer, fingers weaving into the curls at the back of his head and encouraging him to meet your parted lips. 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, and you can feel them spread heat throughout your body. You can hear both of your hearts beating, thundering against the human flesh, and signaling the feeling of being alive. 

Frankie waits for the words. The feeling of anticipation has been lingering for quite some time. Your touch of nervousness was welcome, expected even. A moment in time when your heart feels exposed but also overwhelmingly full. Only hoping that the other person feels the same way, yet uncertain of how they will respond. A game of chicken of who will say it first and who will have to respond. The leap of faith one will be forced to make and the right words the other will have to find.

Both roles are downright frightening. 

You’re risking everything, the biggest gamble one can make without physical currency. 

But he sees the panic behind your eyes, the nervewracking feeling of saying the sacred words to someone, maybe even for the first time. And he knows that they will be worth it to hear. 

“I know,” he whispers against your lips, shaking his head in a way that tells you he knows what you’re thinking. “I know.” 

You don’t attend church, so you have one question: why the fuck is God sending people to get brunch after Sunday’s service? Why is that their beck and call? 

Every Sunday morning, like clockwork, a flock of people flood the diner with their church clothes and a hankering for waffles and Frankie’s house lumberjack skillet (you wanna know what’s in it, don’t you?)

Frankie’s Secret Ingredients:

Potatoes: 1/4 lb (about 4-5 small potatoes)

Olive Oil: 1/2 tablespoon

Breakfast Sausage Links: 3 oz (about 4 links)

Onion: 1/8 of a whole onion, chopped

Red Pepper: 1/4 of a whole red pepper, chopped

Jalapenos: 1/2 jalapeno, sliced (omit if person looks too old to handle)

Butter: 1 tablespoon

Hickory Maple Seasoning: 1/2 teaspoon

Eggs: 2 large eggs

Milk: 1 tablespoon

Cheddar Cheese: 2 tablespoons, shredded

Anyway, Tommy’s Diner is slammed by mid-morning, and you’re working up a sweat. You’re wiping at your neck and forehead every few minutes, and the sun filtering through the windows does little justice to cool your skin. Tina called out sick, which is code for hungover from Saturday. It’s overwhelming. Your brain feels like the scrambled eggs you just plated for that family of four.

“Enjoy,” you whisper a little breathlessly, tucking your notepad into the front of your apron, rubbing at your temple with the heel of your hand as you walk past the rest of your tables. 

By the time you lift your head, you see a large potbelly man who is waving an arm up above his head, fingers already snapping incessantly. He looked like a chubby rat, with a large dark-haired mustache and a shirt that didn’t fully cover the beer gut he was sporting.

“Uhm, hello? Miss, can we get some service over here?” 

Jesus fucking Christ. Your jaw tightens a few notches, pushing your hair out of your face and wrapping around to their table. You remember them; you took their table’s order a bit ago now - shit, did you forget their plates? No, you didn’t. 

Stopping at the head of their table, you smile politely at the large family. 

“Hi, can I get you something while you wait?”

The man scoffs and snaps, “Uh, yeah, our food.”

Taking a deep breath wasn’t enough; you were a ticking time bomb. “Sir, do you see how many people are in the diner? We’re at capacity with a line out the door. I understand you’ve been waiting, but our kitchen is backed up and-” 

“Bull-honkey-bullcrap, little miss,” the man raises his voice, spitting violently with each syllable, “This is ridiculous! We’ve been sittin’ here for nearly an hour. How hard is it to make some eggs and Mickey Mouse pancakes, huh? You just that stupid? What the hell is goin’ on back there? Are you people completely incompetent, or are you just ignorin’ us?”

Worse things have been said to your face, but you’re at your breaking point. You can feel your face flush with warmth radiating throughout your body. Now, the entire diner is staring at you from all the commotion. Your lungs feel tight, a headache casting heavy behind your face. Tears line your eyes, but you don’t dare let them fall. 

“Again, I’m really sorry, but like I said, the kitchen is backed up.” But apologizing isn’t enough. This guy just wanted someone to take his punches. 

“Don’t even try to apologize. I don’t wanna hear your pathetic excuses. How hard is it to cook some damn eggs? This place is a joke. You must be the worst server I’ve ever dealt with. ‘Nd I swear, if I wanted this kind of useless service, I’d go to a fast food joint. Is this how you treat payin’ customers, or ya’ll just this lazy? Do your job, or I’ll make sure everyone knows how worthless you and this diner is.”

You clutch the empty coffee pot tightly, biting your tongue. Turning swiftly, you head straight for the back swinging door. You don't intend to contribute to the chaos or the bustling mess in the kitchen, but here, in the safety of the back section, you allow a few stray tears to escape.

Shoulder blades hitting the cold brick, you wish to blend into the wall. It feels like the air’s been knocked out of you, your chest heavy and tight. Every sound around you blurs as the man’s harsh words replay in your mind, louder and louder each time. Your hands shake just enough to want to hide them behind your back, feeling afraid to have eyes on you in such a vulnerable state. Exposed. You’ve absorbed the anger meant for something or someone else, so now, it sticks to you, something you can’t wash away. 

Your name echoes once, twice. 

“Hey,” A calm amongst the rushing waves - it’s Frankie. You blink him into focus, bleary tears slowly fading away. His red bandana is tied tight around his forehead to catch the sweat from his forehead and hair. His face is laced with concern. He wipes his hands off on his apron, gently capturing your face as he shields you from the rest of the kitchen. 

And just like that, life returns to your body. You can feel the tips of your fingers, previously tingling, wiping under your eyes as you hiccup through your breaths. Frankie knows this high-traffic area will only make your anxiety worse. 

“It’s okay, take a deep breath and tell me what happen.”

The eyes of the kitchen staff are slowly starting to turn to you, asking if you’re alright and why you’re upset. Shaking your head dismissively, you blink away your tears and look down at the grubby floor that probably hasn’t been mopped since the invention of flip phones. 

“I’m fine. This customer just got pissed and yelled at me. He was upset that his food was running behind, and I tried to explain that the kitchen was backed up.” You part your lips to continue, but the jaw drops of the kitchen staff signal shock by your words. 

They all start honking in unison like a flock of geese. 

“He what?”

“Which fuckin’ table?”

“You okay, sweetheart? Fuck them.” 

Frankie's back straightens stiff, having previously been craning to see your face, now strict with annoyance. 

“Is that him?” Frankie asks as he walks to the window between the kitchen and the back counter, narrowing his eyes on the rat man and his family. 

“Frankie, please don't,” you huff, already refilling your pots of coffee and hoping to just forget the whole thing ever happened. "It's okay, it happens."

But it’s not okay. Because this guy made you cry, and what the hell was it for? Some scrambled eggs and bacon on delay?

The rest of the line cooks have abandoned their food to gawk at the asshole who thinks he can get away with yelling at one of their own like that. 

Frankie tightens his bandana and peels off his gloves, slapping them down in the trash. 

His boots thunder across the linoleum, catching the attention of many of the patrons on his way to the booth by the window where the rat man has continued to reside angrily. Even worse, he chuckles at the sight of Frankie. 

“Take a load of this guy," the rat man appears to mutter to his wife who looks between them both with startled eyes. "Okay, okay, just bring back the pretty waitress. I’ll tell her I’m sorry.” He sneers, shaking his head. 

“No, you’re done with her. You’re dealin’ with me now.” Frankie snags an empty chair from a nearby table, turns it around, and straddles the seat as he gets in the burly man's face. 

“I just feel terrible that we’re not meeting the quality of service you expected. So what exactly is the problem?” Frankie asks with a hint of venom lining his words. 

“Well- we’ve been waitin’ here for half an hour and-”

“Right, and what did the pretty waitress say?”

The man scoffs lightly, feeling embarrassed with all the eyes on him not once but twice now. “Well, she said the kitchen was backed up.”

“That’s right, that’s right, well, I’m the fuckin’ kitchen. You wanna yell at someone? Well, I thought I’d give you the chance to yell at me since, hey, I'm in charge of the kitchen today. Please, tell me your honest review.”

The rat man stares blankly, looking from left to right in surprise, but his family all gawks at Frankie. 

Frankie waits, eyes unblinking, face hardened as the man sputters up something weak in response. 

“This is ungodly and unprofessional,” he gargles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“You’re absolutely right!” Frankie says, smacking the table with his closed fist before pointing at the rat man, the tip of his finger inches from his face. “I am unprofessional, but that’s because I don’t have the great customer service skills of our waitresses. That’s her job,” Frankie juts a thumb backward towards the kitchen in your direction. “So now, instead of cookin’ you and your ugly wife and kids some food, I gotta come out here and knock some sense into ya since you seemed to have lost your manners. So you gonna let her do her job so I can get back to mine?”

You can only watch from the window in shock, hand over mouth, unblinking eyes - but it’s like a car crash you can’t look away from. The man is shocked into an embarrassed silence. 

“We’ll just… we’ll wait. There’s-uh-there’s a lotta people here.” 

Frankie sighs and smiles with fake relief. He stands from the chair, looking around the quiet restaurant. 

“Anybody else have somethin' they wanna say?”

They all seem too scared of Frankie to complain again to the psycho chef. Chants of ‘Everything’s great!’ or “Thank you!” echo through the dining room. 

You smile warmly, forcing yourself to turn away from the scene and clean up your teary makeup in the bathroom. But all you can think about is Frankie. Francisco. Stupid Catfish. Stepping in like that to protect you, to make that jerk take accountability. It makes your heart flutter knowing how much he cares. And you feel the same way.

It’s about time you tell him. 

Knuckles wrap against the bathroom door, and an echo of, “You okay?” follows. 

He comes in without a response, somewhat relieved to find you adjusting your hair and wiping at the smeary makeup. Your eyes soften at the sight of him, watching in the reflection. He looks disheveled and annoyed, shaking his head as he starts ranting about rat man. 

“I don’t get how people like that- the God-loving church people- come in here and act like they weren’t just told at a sermon to love thy neighbor or whatever bullshit.”

He continues, but all you do is stare.

A part of you thinks he defends others due to his childhood. No one picks on the people Frankie cares about. That letter riled him up, maybe more than either of you had realized. He’s thinking about those times of the past, the innocent hurt by the deviant. 

“You didn’t deserve that, I’m sorry, he’s a fucking dick. You don’t have to take his food out, I’ll do it. Honey,” he breathes, hand resting on your shoulder as he gently turns you around to face him. “Are you mad at me? I know you told me not to go out there, but no one makes you cry if I can help it, y’know? I don’t want him to think he can get away with that.”

Once Frankie starts ranting, it’s really hard to get him to stop. 

“Frankie,” you breathe out, resting your hand over the one he holds on your shoulder. 

“I mean, does he really think that it’s smart to be rude to the staff? I’ll spit in his food, and it will feel really good because he’ll have no idea.”

“Frankie,”

“You’re a good fucking waitress! Doesn’t he see the entire breakfast bar and all the booths filled with guests? The line out the door wasn’t an indication of how busy it is? Get a fuckin’ brain, I mean-”

In an instant, you tilt your chin up, catching his gaze just long enough to see the shift in his eyes before your lips meet. Your hands slide around his neck, fingers weaving into the soft curls at the nape, gently tugging him down toward you. The kiss begins with an urgency, part playful, part to silence his words, but mostly, it's to thank him in a way that words never could.

Frankie’s initial surprise fades quickly as he melts into you, his breath hitching for a moment. His hands travel to your waist, sliding around until they lock just above your hips, anchoring you to him. He presses closer, his touch firm yet tender, and slows the kiss, savoring the warmth of your lips. You feel the way his body relaxes, how he leans in, letting the world around you both fall away as he holds you, close and unmoving, like he’s never letting go.

It takes every ounce of courage in your body to pull away, your lips lingering against his for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if tethered by an invisible force. Slowly, you break the kiss, your breath shaky, heart racing. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, his eyes still half-closed, unaware of the words hanging on the edge of your lips.

You gently pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers still laced in his hair, trembling slightly. His eyes search yours, soft and expectant, filled with something unspoken but unmistakable.

With a deep inhale, you let the words slip out, vulnerable and raw, barely louder than a whisper, but heavy with meaning.

“I love you.”

The world stands still as the words hang in the air, your heart pounding as you wait for the weight of what you’ve just said to settle between you.

And then he smiles like an idiot. And you’re joining him. 

“Did you say what I think you said? Did you say that you love me?" His voice is soft, teasing, as he presses his forehead against yours, capturing your lips with a few playful, quick kisses between his words. “Come on, say it again.”

You feel your heart flutter, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Frankie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I heard you say it. Now you can’t take it back,” he adds with a grin, pulling you tighter, his arms leaving no space between you.

You giggle, your hands pushing lightly against his shoulders, though he doesn’t budge. “Stop, that was really hard,” you huff, breathless, as though the words had stolen all the air from your lungs.

Frankie just shakes his head, his smile fading into something softer, more real, as the weight of the moment catches up with him. “I’ve thought about better places or times to tell you this, I wanted to wait until you were ready,” he whispers, his voice hushed with disbelief, eyes locking onto yours, “but I love you more than you’ll ever know. More than you’ll ever understand or dream. I love you.”

His thumb traces the curve of your cheekbone, a gentle, affectionate touch that sends shivers down your spine. The intensity in his gaze mirrors your own, both of you lost in this shared vulnerability, your hearts speaking in unison.

“I love you, too,” you breathe, the words falling effortlessly this time, as if they’ve always been waiting for this moment.

So, yeah. You sort of love your co-worker Francisco Morales. 

The sun is blinding—orange and yellow streams of light as it is forced to set along the horizon. It’s slow but noticeable, sinking into the land beyond what you can see.

The sun goes down in Texas once again. 

Frankie raises his cigarette, its glowing tip mirroring the fiery hues of the sunset.

His neighborhood is tranquil, lined with single-story homes and tree-bordered streets where autumn's touch is just around the corner. Children ride bikes, joggers and dog walkers pass by, and new parents push their baby strollers—a picturesque scene that feels meticulously arranged yet somehow distant. Frankie, too, feels out of place here.

"You got pretty worked up today—more than usual," you say softly.

Frankie lets out a dry chuckle, cigarette between his lips as he leans back on his elbows, squinting at the fading sun. "Yeah, maybe. You think I’m off right now?" He tilts his head, genuinely curious, as if searching for what’s changed.

You shrug, glancing at him with a fond smile. "I think that letter from your dad has you more rattled than you realize. I found it in your sock drawer this morning."

Frankie’s gaze drops to his lap, a flicker of shame crossing his face.

"I thought you said you were gonna toss it?" you muse gently, watching as his mind churns, cigarette hovering at his lips before he sighs deeply.

"You’re too observant," he smirks. "I don’t know why I haven’t crumpled, burned, or shredded it into pieces by now. I have every right to."

You rest a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing the tension there. "But you didn’t. Why?"

Frankie bites his lower lip nervously, glancing your way. "At the end of the apology letter, he asked to take me out for my birthday. Put down the time, place—everything. Said he’d wait for me."

Your expression softens, letting him know you’re here, really listening. "And you’re thinking about it?"

"Yeah… I guess so. But I don’t even know what I’d say. I’ve only seen him once or twice since I moved out. It’s been years. And when I do see him, I’m thirteen all over again, just yelling at him, so angry. I see his face, and it’s like a switch flips. And that’s not me. You know that’s not me," Frankie stammers, panic flickering in his eyes.

"I know," you whisper, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He pulls you closer, resting his head against yours as the weight of it all settles.

After a deep breath, Frankie gathers himself. "He used to bring out the worst in me. I don’t know if I still hate him as much. Time’s passed, maybe he’s changed. But I’m not holding my breath."

He’s an adult now, more guarded, wiser to the people who’ve hurt him. He’s fought through battles and traumas you don’t even know about. Yet, in his eyes, there’s a flicker of hope. Maybe his dad has turned a corner, maybe he’s cleaned up, seen his mistakes. But you know better than to trust in maybes.

And you’d protect him from being let down again.

"Do you want me to go with you?" you offer quietly.

Frankie’s eyes snap to yours, wide and searching.

"Okay," he says after a long pause. "Let’s do it."

[taliesin-the-bored]

Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel (Thank you for tagging me!)

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

[omgpoindexter]

“It’s going to rain.”

Dex looks up.

Neither he or Nursey have spoken in the last hour, seated in a comfortable silence on the front porch. It’s been the sort of day that makes it uncomfortable to talk, anyway; there’s been a heavy heat smothering them for almost a week now. It makes them antsy and annoyed, so they’ve resorted mostly to silence in a way that would never have happened their freshman year. It’s a development in maturity resulting in long silences that frustrate Chowder and impress Bitty.

Dex is the kind of guy that knows when the rain is coming. He always has been - years of hot, sticky summers on the lobster boat have drilled it into him - but it’s Nursey that squints up at the clouds and makes the statement.

“Hmm,” Dex says, which is neither an agreement or disagreement. Nursey doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead, he cocks his head to one side and smiles up at the approaching dark clouds. “It’s gonna be the kind of rain that makes people take the bus,” he says absently.

Dex frowns reflexively, but inside he’s softly pleased. It’s such a Derek sentence, in its simplicity and its observation. Nursey, however, catches the frown and raises a cool eyebrow. He doesn’t know Dex is gently, sweetly analysing his words.

“Why do you say it like that?” Dex asks, to explain himself before Nursey points out his reflex frown. “The kind of rain that makes you take the bus? Just say it’s a lot of rain.”

Nursey blinks at him, surprised. “I don’t know,” he says after a moment. “I like thinking about it in people terms. It’s more fun.”

“People terms?” Dex asks him. He thinks he knows what Nursey means, but he likes the explanation.

“Yeah,” Nursey shrugs, looking out into the street. The clouds are dark and heavy above them. “People will rush to their cars, or run to bring the laundry in - and if you weren’t sat right here, you’d do it too.”

Dex, surprised, laughs. Nursey looks over at him. He’s smiling a little, and there are crinkles by his eyes.

Then comes a low rumbling noise that echoes through the streets; a clap of thunder quickly follows. Nursey looks away and back at the sky just in time to see it open, and the rain starts, as he said it would.

Dark spots begin to litter the sidewalk and the garden path, rain drumming on the porch roof. Dex hears Bitty shut the kitchen windows somewhere in the Haus behind them.

There’s a shriek from a house a few doors down that makes them both jump. A girl Dex vaguely recognises sprints past them and hurries into her car. Dex looks at Nursey, expecting to see him looking smugly back over at him, but his eyes are fixed on the sky.

He watches Nursey analyse the clouds for a moment.

Dex can imagine the beginnings of a poem forming in his mind: something atmospheric and melancholy that Dex will try to understand but won’t quite, something that encapsulates Derek Nurse in a way Dex wants to be able to do but isn’t quite there yet.

“I guess you’re right,” Dex says, smiling. “Maybe I would.”

[fictionandfixation]

Older Bachelor headcanons!

Older Bachelor stardew headcanons because I’ve been playing lots recently! All sfw, some mentions of smoking/alcohol 💕 also please bear in mind I am no SDV expert, so sorry if these go against canon occasionally!

Harvey ☕️🔬📚

• Secret smoking habit that he would rather die than tell anyone about. Not often, but during flu season when he’s stressed, you can find him cooped up in his room with an imported cigar or a Marlboro Gold, an espresso and an Agatha Christie.

• Plays classic soul, funk, golden oldies and jazz in the foyer of the clinic on an old-timey record player, and chooses every day from his large record collection. Frequently irritates Maru with the extent of his Doris Day enjoyment.

• Kind of wide-set - very broad shoulders, and quite tall.

• Packets of salted peanuts and cookies on the clinic foyer desk which he restocks every week.

• Goes to fetch you personally from the mines or Skull Cavern sometimes when you get knocked out. And he also keeps a vintage forest green car behind the clinic to pick you up in. He hopes one day you’ll wake up on the way back and compliment his tasteful vehicle choice or notice he’s bringing you home. You don’t.

• Best friends with Evelyn. Worst enemies with George.

• Tennis player. Plays with whoever will say yes in the mountains and always manages to punt the ball into the lake somehow. Also used to be in a rock climbing club at university, and has sort of sinewy forearms as a result.

• Outrageous flirt after a few glasses of Pinot Noir, mostly because I think he’s on the spectrum but also because I think it would help him stop being quite so nervous.

• Brown suspenders. Every. Single. Day.

• Gives Jas and Vincent candy after their checkup.

• “Sweetheart/honey” as a nickname for you.

Elliott 📜🖋️🐚

• Striped. Matching. Pajamas.

• Finds, forages and cooks mussels when he needs to impress someone. And on that note, very much a French cuisine enjoyer.

• If blue cheese has no fans Elliott is dead.

• Rizz master. Silver tongue. Read so much romance when he was a teenager that it has actively become a part of his personality to be a book boyfriend.

• Very willowy and slender. Metabolism of the gods. Puts away food like it’s nobody’s business.

• Can read several languages, but just can’t master an accent so never uses them in a spoken context. Definitely a student of Latin.

• English accent headcanon! Probably spent the first couple of decades of his life in somewhere high-income like Warwickshire, or (more likely) Cornwall or Exeter, on or near the coast. I am also envisioning him as having been to an old collegiate university like Durham, or maybe a college at Oxford (Merton I reckon).

• Writes and then burns poems about everyone he’s ever been in love with. Starts keeping them when he meets you.

• Chats fashion history with Emily and Haley.

• Religious about his collection of cravat-style ties because he’s seen the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice a few too many times.

• Frequent book club gatherings with Caroline, Marnie, Robin and Jodi (mostly because mothers love him, the main selling point here being that he has definitely read at least one Jodi Picoult book. He does not remember anything about it, he’s just glad to be invited).

“Dearest/my love” as a pet name.

Shane 🍺🍕🐓

• Snores. Very quiet about it though.

• I know a lot of people HC Harvey as oldest but I reckon it’s Shane. He also acts the most like a bitter old man whereas I feel Harvey is just ‘mature’.

• Could be convinced to grow a beard. Maybe.

• Goes for a jog three times a week. Hates it. Refuses to stop and really isn’t even sure why he does it himself any more.

• Secret Lana Del Rey enjoyer. Mainly a fan of Midwest emo, classic rock, nu metal and sometimes country but the kind of country where they sing about killing people and getting away with it.

• Raised by heavily Christian parents in the Deep South. Yes this is a Southern accent headcanon. Yeehaw.

• Lets Jas put eyeshadow on him sometimes. Shaves properly only when she wants to put makeup on him.

• Craft beer’s number one opp. Wants an ice cold tap Budweiser only, and if there isn’t enough head on it he will be asking for a refund. Not that Gus would ever do that to him.

• Has muscle with padding. Very strong, very wide in stature, but not lean at all. Biceps wider than your neck that you could (and would) use as pillows.

• Makes the most insane hangover breakfast known to man. Bacon. Pancakes. Sausage. Home fries. Butter. Syrup. You’re putting on a bit of healthy relationship weight for sure with Shane as your partner.

• “Darlin’/baby” user. “Sweet cheeks” as a joke. Kind of a joke.

Hope you guys enjoyed these!! I am down irretrievable for Older Bachelor content because I love ✨older men✨

Please let me know if you’d like some more for these characters or the other bachelors and bachelorettes!