#i just have not liked it since it originated and before it blew up

[dyketennant]

the fact that i live in a society where i cannot avoid hazbin hotel or helluva boss within many queer spaces is truly a nightmare scenario.

[singmyaubade]

Growing Pains

poly!marauders x female!reader

summary: you are in desperate need of a job, and the marauders are in desperate need of a babysitter, what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ | age gap between marauders & reader (not heavily identified) | reader is 21 + | mature language.

author's note: hello everyone! so i have multiple poly!marauder fics going on at this very moment (i know) but this was something that came to me and i thought it would be so cute to write since i never really dip my toes into this kind of normal au's. but please enjoy!

! divers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics !

Being unemployed right out of university was not part of your plan.

You knew that it wasn’t unusual to be unemployed after attending university, but you also had high expectations for yourself.

Originally, you were going to intern at your father’s law firm for a while just to get on your feet, while living in your own studio apartment, which he would pay for—his reward for you ‘stepping up’ straight out of university.

After that, you planned to gain some experience and then be able to work at an actual law firm—not just intern—and pay off your studio apartment on your own.

But, as usual, you and your father had gotten into a blown-out, heated argument about your future. All you had said was that you ‘wanted to do some writing on the side’ during dinner, and everything blew up when he claimed that ‘writing is unreliable and wouldn’t get you anywhere in life,’ which only pissed you off.

It ended with you saying some things you didn’t regret, but maybe should have, and him cutting you off financially, retracting the offer at his law firm.

Instead of groveling, you let your stubbornness take over, storming out and having to find somewhere to live as soon as possible.

Thankfully, your cousin, who had graduated a few years before you, was openly looking for a roommate and wasn’t charging a high rate. You took the offer immediately, but finding a job was a real pain in the ass.

Every place you tried to intern at said you didn’t have enough experience or was in competition with your father’s law firm.

And every place you applied to—whether it was as a barista, waitress, assistant, etc.—rejected you.

For no reason, might you add.

You were growing hopeless and severely depressed. Mary was finding it quite hard to comfort you lately, especially since you were holed up in your room, refusing to leave.

She didn’t even think you went out to use the bathroom.

So eventually, when you came out of your room for your 8 PM coffee, she confronted you.

“Y/N,” She sighed, looking at you as you wrapped yourself in a blanket, dark circles under your eyes. “I love you a lot, but I need you to bloody get it together!”

You groaned. “What do I have to live for if no one will hire me and I’m just unsuccessful?” You sulked. “I mean, I’m going to be living with you until you and Lily have kids!” You screeched, horrified.

Mary looked spooked. “I pray not,” She replied, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks in her hands. “You just need to have more faith in yourself—and maybe a little boost,” She said, letting go and sitting on the counter. “Which is why I got you that little boost and got you a job!” She said excitedly, grinning as you looked at her in shock.

“Wait, what?” You responded. “Doing what? And how?” You asked nervously as her grin widened.

“Well, it’s a full-time babysitting gig,” She said happily, swinging her legs.

“So, a nanny?” You asked, sounding a bit deflated.

“Well, unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll be living with them, but yeah, kind of,” She said, as you hummed.

“And you know the parents?” You asked hesitantly.

“Oh, like the back of my hand,” She said calmly as if your question was ridiculous.

“I mean, should I text them or anything? Or at least let them get to know me before I start babysitting for them?” You asked nervously.

Mary waved you off. “They’re really chill, they’ll love you,” She said happily as she hopped off the counter.

“Wait, but—” You tried to speak again, but Mary wasn’t having it.

“I’ll send you their address. You have to be there at 10 AM!” she yelled before heading to her room.

That wasn’t very informative.

You were never this nervous. You really didn’t want to mess this up. Your palms were sweaty, and you were worried they'd think something was wrong with you, maybe unfit to handle kids if you were this nervous over meeting the parents. And Mary hadn’t even bothered to give you any info about the family—no names, no details about their children.

What made it worse was that you couldn’t decide what to wear. You wanted something casual but presentable, something that said 'I’m approachable, but not a slob.'

You were pretty sure the wife wouldn't appreciate anything too scandolous, and a single dad might misread it.

You ended up choosing a red and green Christmas sweater, mom jeans, and Mary Jane’s—comfortable enough, you thought, to handle kids.

Unfortunately, your timing didn’t match. Without a car (since your dad had cut you off), you had to bike there. And to make matters worse, you’d burned your toast and didn’t have time to make more. You were late, pedaling as fast as you could, praying your GPS was right.

You finally arrived at a beautiful suburban house—exactly what you imagined when you thought of a family of four. The house had a neat front yard, a doormat, and was surrounded by well-kept homes. Taking a deep breath, you rang the doorbell and quickly checked your reflection. Your hair was a mess, but you didn't have time to fix it before the door swung open.

A man with black hair, a black button-up shirt, and tattoos on his arms greeted you. He was strikingly handsome with a charming smile. And.. great, you were already crushing on the dad.

"Hey, you must be Y/N, the babysitter Mary recommended," He said with a grin, extending his hand. "We were expecting you—come on in."

The house felt warm and homey, with photos of kids everywhere and Christmas decorations all over. Toys were scattered on the living room floor but not in a messy way—just lived in.

"Sorry about the mess," The man said, laughing and running a hand through his hair. "You’ve arrived during morning madness."

"Oh, it’s fine," You replied, feeling flustered. "The decorations are lovely."

"They kind of went overboard this year," He chuckled.

Before you could say anything else, another man entered the room—a tall, broad figure with light brown hair, wearing a white button-up shirt and brown slacks. Scars marked his face, but they somehow added to how pretty he was.

“Sirius,” The man grumbled, “I told you to tidy up an hour ago,” He sent an annoyed look his way,

"Remus," The new man said, extending a hand. "Apologies for the chaos. It’s never this untidy."

"Yes, it is," Sirius teased. Remus shot him a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"It’s nice to meet you both," You said with a smile. "Your home is beautiful. It reminds me of my family’s place."

Remus looked relieved. "We’re glad to have you. Can I get you anything? A glass of water?" He asked.

"I think I’m fine," You answered kindly as Remus led you to the couch.

Sirius sat next to you, creating a situation where you were sandwiched between the two men. You felt a little nervous, but they looked extremely comfortable.

"So, Mary didn’t tell us much about you," Remus started.

"She just gave us your last name and I didn't think it would be kind to search you up," Sirius added.

You laughed nervously. "Yeah, she can be a bit mysterious for no reason."

Sirius noticed you fidgeting and put a hand on your knee. "We’re just happy to get to know you ourselves," He said with a kind smile.

"Well, ask me anything," You said, trying to calm your nerves.

"Anything?" Sirius asked with a teasing smile. You flushed, and Remus shot him a warning look.

"How old are you?" Remus asked.

"21," You answered.

"Ah, the responsible age," Sirius joked, "How has it been?" He asked, trying to make you more comfortable.

"It’s been good," You replied. "More responsibilities now, its been a bit hectic."

"Out of school?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, just finished," You said with a smile.

"What did you study?" He continued.

"Criminal Justice with a minor in Creative Writing."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Remus here is a bit of a writer himself."

You perked up. "Really?"

Remus chuckled. "Just write novels here and there."

"Which ones?" You asked eagerly, looking at him in excitement.

"Probably haven’t heard of them," Remus said, shrugging. "The Idea of the Unknown was one that was popular for a bit," He added casually, and your eyes widened.

"Wait, you wrote The Idea of the Unknown?" You asked in disbelief.

He laughed. "Yeah, that’s me."

He seemed completely nonchalant as he mentioned one of the books that had shaped your entire view on life. You were amazed by how humble he could be about it.

And then it clicked,

He was one of your all time favorite authors.

You almost fainted. "You’re the Remus Lupin?" You asked, excited.

"Surprised you know my work," He said. "I didn’t think your age group read my books."

"I love your books!" You exclaimed. "The story between Ophelia and Duke had me crying for weeks after the ending."

Remus smiled warmly. "I spent fifteen years perfecting that ending. Glad it made an impact."

"But we're glad you love his work," Sirius teased, a sly grin painting his face.

You blushed, mortified. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn this into a meet and greet. I swear I’m not a stalker."

Sirius laughed. "Honestly, this just makes us more sure about you. At least we know you have taste." He nudged your shoulder jokingly.

You felt a bit guilty for not asking more about their kids. "So, what are their names?"

You pointed to a picture of two kids—a boy with dark hair and hazel eyes, and a shy-looking girl with long brown hair. They were both in front of the Christmas tree with matching Rudolph pajamas as the boy smiled confidently in front of the camera and the little girl hid behind him.

"Harry is almost four—he’s a bit of a handful, but he’s brave. Ruby’s shy, but she’s a clever little thing." Remus says, "And don't be fooled by either of them, they love to prank people and be up to no good,"

"They’re both adorable," You said. "I’m sure I’ll love them."

Remus checked his watch. "Actually, they should be back from their walk about now."

And just as he said that, the door opened, and in came a tall man with glasses and black hair that was shorter than Sirius's, carrying Ruby on his back and with Harry hanging from his leg.

Yet another handsome man.

"Okay, go to your daddies," The man said, setting Ruby down. She rushed over to Sirius, while Harry went to Remus, peppering him with questions.

The man turned to you. "And who’s this?" He asked with a grin.

You felt your heart race. "I’m Y/N, the new babysitter," You said, extending a hand.

"James," He said, then surprised you by pulling you into a hug. "Nice to meet you."

Sirius laughed. "He’s a hugger." He picked up Ruby as she pulled on his long locks of hair, earning a pained groan from him as he put her back down, "Not nice," He jokingly pouted as he rubbed his head.

You were too busy by James's embrace to be fully locked on to the kids as his scent infiltrated your nose. James smelled like maple syrup and firewood, and it almost made you dizzy.

When he pulled back, he grinned. "We’re glad to have you."

"Yeah, we need a new face around here," Sirius added as Ruby shyly hid behind his legs.

"Come on, Ruby, say hello," James coaxed, looking at the little girl and nodding his head to you as she went towards you in a shy manner, "She won't bite," James added, trying to help.

You kneeled down to her level. "Unless you want me to," You joked, making her giggle.

"My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?"

"Ruby," She said quietly.

"That’s a pretty name," You said. "You’re pretty too."

Ruby smiled shyly, and you stood up to find a little Harry already approaching you.

"Do you have cookies?" He asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"Not yet," You laughed.

"Bwoo," Harry pouted, moving over to James as he picked him up.

"Looks like you’re going to be a good fit,"

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier 

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 

Gosh, he was so cute. 

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 

Zayne 

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 

So, what did you decide to do? 

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well. 

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 

Rafayel 

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 

He was also so easy to fluster. 

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 

“Huh?” 

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 

“Again.” 

Now, it's your turn to be confused. 

“Raf, what–” 

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 

Okay, you got this. 

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 

“Sure, kitten.” 

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

[woodland-gremlin]

Fruitloops

“We’re home!” Conner bellows, posing like he just won the Super Bowl, with Tim behind him looking exasperated.

“Welcome home,” Danny says from the kitchen. “I’m just finishing up the Fudge.”

Hearing the word Fudge Conner cheers before running to the kitchen door. “I call licking the spoon!”

Tim freezes before rushing to catch up with Conner. Danny’s Phantom Fudge was legendary and there was no way he was going to give up the right to lick the spoon without a fight. Conner may have super powers and a head start but he didn’t free Bruce from being stuck in the time stream with his boyfriends by just his good looks, though they certainly helped.

He looks around to see what can give him an advantage in his quest for legendary Fudge when he sees something that causes his heart to drop. League of Assassins garb peeking out through the hallways closet.

His mind began to work in overtime trying to figure out what this could mean. While it seems like one of the League’s assassins is for some reason hiding in his closet, that also makes very little sense. If one were here they would never make such a mistake. It could be one of Danny or Conner’s souvenirs that they liberated from the League when the three of them blew up a bunch of their bases. But that doesn’t explain why they would be in one of their apartment closets, they keep that stuff in the Nest with the rest of the stuff connected to their alter-egos. Though Danny does like to bring some of his inventions here to fiddle with sometimes, he usually phases them into things to hide them when he isn’t working on them.

As Tim prepares for a fight while trying to figure out the assassin grab Danny phases his head through the kitchen wall. “Tim want some Fudge?” he asks before looking at what caught Tim’s interest. “Why are you looking at where I tied up the Cultist Fruitloop?”

Tim’s eyes widen before turning to where Danny’s head was poking through the wall. “Ras?!” Tim squeaks. This catches attention from where he was gorging himself with Fudge. “Ra’s here?!” he asks while rushing towards them, getting ready to fight.

Danny phases through the rest of the wall before shrugging like he didn’t just say there was an immortal leader of a cult of assassins tied up in their closet.

“Well, he kind of just showed up and started ranting about how he would make you,” Danny says while gesturing towards Tim, “his, so I knocked him out with the anti-creep stick and tied him up before shoving him in the closet.”

Tim wanted to bang his head against the wall and from the look of it Conner wasn’t that far behind him in that thought. This was Ras for Ancients sake and here Danny was acting like he was some common thug.

“You don’t seem very concerned,” Conner said, stating the obvious.

Danny shrugs again, “Well yeah, I phased his weapons into me and tied him up. Plus the Original Fruitloop does stuff like this all the time. Doesn’t yours do it too?”

And that, that made sense. It wasn’t that Danny wasn’t taking it seriously, it was that he was used to it. They all were. Each of them had some older Creep that was obsessed with them. He had Ras to deal with, Conner had Luthor, and Danny had been dealing with Masters for years. Honestly, if Masters or Luthor showed up and acted like Ras did he would have tied them up and stuffed them in the closet too.

“Just tell us sooner next time,” Tim sighs.

Danny chuckles nervously while rubbing the back of his head., “Yeah, will do. I just kind of forgot since he showed up in the middle of me making the Fudge.”

Conner gasps, leaning against the wall like he had just heard the most sacrilegious of news. “He interrupted the sacred ritual that is the making of Fudge?!?!” Conner then continues with his hand on his heart, “The audacity.”

Danny snorts while Tim facepalms. It’s moments like this that made him wonder why he loves these two idiots.

“Why is he tied up like a pig?” Conner asks after opening the closet, looking at Ras.

“Because he is one,” Danny absentmindedly replied.

And then it was moments like this that he remembers why.

[gracie-eilish]

okay so i have another actress!reader because i was so excited u opened ur requests again haha. i luv ur work and again you dont have to pick this up. but how about actress!reader being a big actress and everyone wanting to work with her because she’s so talented. but reader already in an established relationship with billie chose to breakup because she’s felt like she wasn’t giving enough time to the relationship. months go by and the reader and billie are miserable without eachother, then comes award night or oscar night. it being highly anticipated that reader wins and billie being there nominated as well, they both see eachother and realize that it was a mistake leaving eachother. maybe it’s like eye contact with one of them on stage accepting an award and that’s when they realize idk. sorry for this being so long, but thank you!!

an: requests can be as long or as short as yall want them to be!! thank you for sending thisss (sorry it took me so long🥺)

an: suspend ur disbelief for this one teehee! i made some edits to real life for the sake of the story :) please read request for summary!!

warnings: none !

you were already nervous enough the whole night. it was the first time you had ever been nominated for an oscar, for a performance you put so much into! you just didn’t expect tonight to go like this.

you wanted the pink, hollywood, barbie dream you had been living since last year… since you met billie.

while in post, greta and the team introduced you to billie and finneas after they had completed their song “what was i made for”. as barbie, they wanted your opinion on the song as well! making sure if fit with your intentions and the performance you gave. you and billie clicked and the rest is history.

until a few months later when life blew up for you, the highly anticipated movie came out with a bang shooting you into stardom! and shooting down your schedule. you and billie had broken up about a month ago due to your stress and limited time for a relationship. you thought it was for the best…

now you sat in the dolby theater, donned in pink, mingling with other nominees, but you can’t seem to focus. not when she was also there. sitting right behind you, also mingling and enjoying her night as a nominee. the two of you hadn’t spoken all night, a respectful wave and smile was all you two shared. for now…

billie’s performance was breathtaking, you were so proud of her. she had been so nervous about singing this song live for months, and you were there by her side every festival show last summer, watching her prove herself wrong and rock it.

as the crowd leapt to their feet for her, you made brief eye contact. you sent her a watery smile and you cheered and clapped with the rest of the crowd. she sent you one back, before taking in her moment once again. the sight was unimaginable, the whole theater on their feet for her and her brother… but she was distracted too by a pretty girl in pink.

when the time came for the award for best original song, naturally you were the first one on their feet when billie’s name was announced as the winner. after hugging her family members, and after the shortest hesitation, she leapt into your arms for a congratulatory hug before continuing her way down the aisle, finneas following, to accept her award.

you couldn’t help but feel emotional. you missed her so. fucking. much.

“and i also want to thank y/n, you brought barbie to life so perfectly and made it so easy to feel how you were feeling so we could write this song. thank you for your input and support always.. like literally always…” she continued with her thank you’s, meanwhile your heart was beating so fast in your chest. that was the first time you had “spoken” since the breakup…

the reverse happened when your name was announced as the winner for best actress in a motion picture. shocked, you stumbled to your feet, hand over your mouth trying to hold in the tears. you hugged your family next to you and felt a hand on your shoulder.. billie.

the hug was so familiar.. warm, safe, like home.

“i’m so proud of you ba……” her words got jumbled in your head due to the music volume. barbie? baby? no of course she said barbie! why- why would she say baby? she said barbie as a cute little joke… right?!

as you accepted the award you went down your list of thank yous, and of course expressed your gratitude for the honor you were receiving.

“i mean this is just such a dream come true.. i never thought playing a doll most of us used to play with as kids would lead me here…” you trailed off. you looked up but she was already looking. her big blue eyes glassy with tears, and her hands clasped together on her chest with pride.

she missed you.

the after parties were actually the most fun you had had in a long time!! dancing and mingling and drinks, it was a perfect night.. well almost perfect.

in true hollywood fashion, you caught her eye across the room. she changed into a grey suit, seeming to be much more comfortable now than in her dress. she nodded her head towards the door behind her. signaling she wanted you to follow. without a second thought you pushed through the dance floor to follow her. pushing the balcony door open, looking right and left.. and there she was.

“hi,” you said breathlessly.

“hi.” she replied with that heart melting smile.

JK JK JK there’s no part two, i just wanted to be evil for a second teehee

“how are you?” you squeaked, suddenly shy. your shyness was always endearing to billie.

“i’m doing actually really good.” your heart sped up. “but how are you doing miss oscar winnerrrrr?” she said with a smirk, opening her arms for you. giggling, you let her encase you in a hug that you never wanted to get out of.

“i really am proud of you,” she whispered. her voice clearer now than it was before.

“thanks billie,” you gave her a pouty smile, her words touching.

“of course baby,” she pushed some hair from your face, her other hand still resting comfortably on you waist.

baby. not barbie… baby.

you bit your lip, eyes shifting between hers before you broke. “i’m so so sorry billie. i don’t know what i was thinking. i was so busy and i couldn’t keep up and i took it out on us and that was so not okay, and-“

following in the theme of hollywood moments, she cut you off with a kiss. immediately your shoulders relaxed, and you just melted into her arms.

“i know love, i know.” she kissed your cheek pulling you in for a hug. “let’s just enjoy tonight yeah? we can talk about it later. just want you right now.” you just nodded, not trusting anything more than a squeak to come out of your mouth.

the disco pop sound of the barbie soundtrack flooded through the door making both of you look towards the dance floor. while your head was still turned, billie pressed a kiss to your cheek before holding out her hand.

“care to dance, oscar winning actress barbie?” you snorted at her charm, while taking her hand.

“why of course, oscar winning pop star barbie.”

the two of you had a lot to talk through. and you would, tucked in her side in her hotel room bed that night. lots of tears would be shed, as well as hugs given and apologies squeaked out. but until then, you two danced the night away, holding onto each other, sharing kisses and having the best night of your lives. together again.

[jinx-xxed]

Supreme Leader

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; The motivation for this one legit came out of nowhere but I can’t even complain 🫶 this is the best smut I’ve done to date I think

Part of Written in the Stars

Summary; You come back to find Snoke gone… and Kylo Ren has taken his place.

Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Commander Reader, aftermath of TLJ, angst to sad fluff, original characters, you get promoted!!!, Kylo’s mean, Kylo gets a lightsaber pulled on him, you have a saberstaff, throne room confrontation turns into throne room sex, fucking on the throne, tension, you’re still not Kylo’s biggest fan lol, helmet on, gloves on, calling Kylo by his proper title, orgasm denial, overstimulation, inappropriate use of the Force, very dominant Kylo, fingering, unprotected piv sex, riding Kylo, humiliation, degradation, praise, talking about feelings

Wc; 6.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

There’s a sharp ping that comes from the device imbedded into your metal arm cuffs, overriding the silence mode you have it set on and making you startle. You grumble to yourself, pausing your work to tap a few things on the screen and project a smaller screen above it. There it reads the message: all troops involved with mission-76653 cease operations and return to base immediately. There’s coordinates to the Steadfast attached and not the Supremacy, you note.

“Are you serious?” You snap to yourself. The members of Fleet 74 who came along with you on this expedition stop at your voice, looking back at you curiously. You sigh, lifting a hand and making a circular motion with a finger. “We’re heading back to base, I guess. Direct orders.”

Jaharah begins to protest. “Now? But we haven’t finished-“

“I know. I’m not happy about it either.” You say, a scowl settling nicely onto your features. You traveled all the way out to some planet in the Outer Rim to basically have to go right back. You turn, starting the journey to the speeders you’d left behind that’ll return you to your ship that’s even farther away. The others reluctantly follow. “I hope whatever bastard demanded this realizes we’re still two weeks out.”

Lyra’s hands wring together nervously. “Do you think something bad happened? Maybe the resistance-“

You scoff sharply. “The resistance couldn’t hope to do anything against Snoke’s ship, not as things stand now. This is something else.” Or you’d think so.

You won’t admit that you’re worried about what that ‘something else’ could be.

» ☆ «

The trip back to base was just as annoying as the trip out to the assigned planet was. Traveling in a cramped transport ship for two weeks isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world. But finally, there’s a familiar beeping of the sensors and the filter of hyperspace fades away to reveal the massive Star Destroyer that is the Steadfast sitting amongst the blankness of space.

The ship is brought into the hangar and you immediately get the feeling that something is off. A tension in the atmosphere, a shiver running up your arms beneath your uniform. Stormtroopers stand about in a more stiff manner than usual, and the lower workers of the Steadfast seem to have become as meek as mice. There’s also a tinge of leftover smoke in the air, like something blew up within the Star Destroyer. You glance back at your Fleet members as they exit their ships; they feel it too, but Jaharah shrugs, just as lost as you are.

“General,” comes a sudden voice. You snap back around to see a trooper standing before you. “Your presence is requested in the throne room immediately. And the Fleet’s.”

The throne room? What would Snoke want with you now? And what would he want with your Fleet?

You nod, following the Stormtrooper as he acts like some guide through the Steadfast. You’re sure you could find your way faster than he ever could, but you follow along to be nice. The walk there is long, of course, since the ship is so ungodly huge. The hall turns colder as the throne room doors come into view, and it’s like the tension you felt in the air before becomes about ten times heavier, threatening to weigh you down and prevent you from going forward. There’s Sith Troopers guarding the doors, and you see the members of Fleet 74 who stayed behind waiting there as well.

You look to Chief, your second in command. “What is this about?” You demand in a whisper.

“You’ll see.” She mutters. You don’t like that.

The Fleet gets in to a close formation with yourself at the head. The doors open and you’re led inside. You nearly freeze in your tracks with the sight you’re met with.

Snoke is no more. Instead, sitting in a newly made, imposing throne, is Kylo Ren.

He wears his full uniform, hood pulled over his helmet adorned with the red veins that stick the shattered pieces back together coursing through the black metal. His Knights fan out on either side of the throne, still as statues with their weapons held tightly in their hands. Kylo himself is clearly trying to be every bit as intimidating as Snoke was, with his boots firmly planted on the ground, gloved hands clutching the arm rests, back straight as a board.

You kneel before he even gets the chance to tell you to because somehow, initiating it yourself is less humiliating. You hear the Fleet follow suit behind you. The cold, reflective metal of the floor bites into your knee as you stare at it.

There’s an unnerving silence and you feel his eyes on you. Then, “welcome back, Commander.”

You perk at the title, your head shooting up. “Commander?”

“It seems we’ve both gotten promotions.” Kylo drawls. “Snoke is dead, killed by the Jedi girl in his own ship.”

Liar.

He knows that you know, and he also knows that you know it’s better to keep your mouth firmly shut. The discussion you’ll have later should be interesting.

“I’ve taken his place, and I believe it’s most logical to make you my Commander. Fleet 74 will remain as it is. I’m sure you can handle the extra duties, correct?” He asks.

You dip your head again. “Yes, of course. I’m honored, Com-“ you clear your throat, correcting yourself, “Supreme Leader.” It feels wrong.

He taps a finger against the arm rest. “Then you’re dismissed. You and I will talk later.”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

You rise with the Fleet, leading them out of the throne room with tense muscles. As soon as the doors close behind you, a few of them clap you on the back, congratulating you on the new position. You can’t share in the celebration, unable to ignore the itch in the back of your mind that you can’t quite get rid of.

What the hell happened while you were gone?

» ☆ «

You’re called back to the throne room an hour later.

You know you don’t have a choice in the matter, the message was very clear in that sense. You either go willingly or you’re sure someone will come along to drag you there. So you put away the report you were filing on your forcefully failed mission and push yourself from your chair. You walk down familiar halls, you try to ignore the tremor in your hands by clenching them into fists.

The path to the throne room is void of life, as if it’s a radioactive zone that nobody wants to enter. The description isn’t far off; it feels like you enter into a cloud of smog that chokes you when you get near and it sends a shiver down your spine. The Dark is heavy, threatening, and thick in the area. It parts for you when you pass through, ever so willing to obey your commands even if it doesn’t belong to you, but you feel it pressing in on every side. You take a deep breath when you see the doors leading into the throne room finally appear around a corner, looming like a beast waiting to pounce.

You push them open without pause, steeling yourself and the nerves that buzz beneath your skin. Your face is set with hard lines, your brows slightly drawn over your eyes and your lips positioned with a small downturn. Cold air and the sharp tang of polished metal hits you when you step inside, the click of your heels against the ever-so shiny floor the only sound.

You quickly take note of the fact that the room is empty. There are no Guards, no Stormtroopers, no Knights. Only him.

There is only Kylo Ren, sitting on a false throne.

You feel his eyes behind that mask trained on you as soon as you enter, crawling along your form and taking in every bit of you. He looks as he did before, his body cloaked in black robes with his hood framing his helmet, hiding it from the light. The throne isn’t the same as Snoke’s, this one has had to be built from scratch like many things after the utter obliteration of the Supremacy. This new chair has clearly taken inspiration given its size, but the energy surrounding it has changed. It isn’t as Dark as people would believe it to be.

You stop a healthy distance away from the dais, your perfect reflection along the floor mirroring your movements. “You requested me, Supreme Leader?” The title feels wrong and foreign on your tongue when referring to him and you struggle to hide the mockery in your tone, though he hears it all the same. There’s a seed of unease that burrows itself in your gut, eager to bloom into something bigger as you stare at the man you’ve worked with for most of your life. All of this was unexpected, and that’s where your problem lies. Kylo did this, he got himself to this position—and you don’t understand it.

His gloved hands brace against the armrests as he stands. You watch him intensely, your body feeling like it’s pulled taut as a bowstring, ready for something that you don’t know about yet. Your breathing stutters in your chest, it quickens with your heartbeat. He walks down those steps, one after another with the grace and power of a leader that knows his strength. There’s a brush against the shields in your mind, a familiar Force signature that’s taunting you, playing a game that you’re not interested in. You recoil from the touch, quickly forcing it away from you and out of your head. It can’t be trusted.

He reaches the same level you’re on but when he tries to take another inch of the space between you, you find your lightsaber in front of you. It screams to life, red beams of plasma coming from either end. It lets out a steady hum through the handle clenched in your palm—a threat, a promise. Kylo pauses where he is and you glare at him over the weapon, the red bouncing off the silver on his helmet.

“What did you do?” You demand, words spat from between your teeth.

“Don’t be stupid.” He sneers, deep voice crackling through the vocoder.

He moves towards you again, unfazed by the deadly lightsaber you have pointed directly at him. His pace is unrelenting and you move yourself backwards, eager to keep the same distance. You bare your teeth, twisting to follow him as he circles you like a predator. “What happened to Snoke?”

There’s a minuscule shake of his head as he observes you. “I told you-“

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Kylo. What did you do?” You say again. You want a straight answer, you want to know what the fuck happened when you were gone. You want to know what happened to the man you were beginning to trust. You remember the hunger he’d had in his eyes when you’d first met him, the insatiable desire for power and to prove himself to whoever dared doubt him. You wonder how that young man would feel seeing himself now like this, standing at the top of the galaxy. And you wonder how much farther he’ll go, if this is where you make the stand for your life because you’re a threat.

“I did what I had to.” He says coldly with nothing but conviction. “You’ll understand.” He got himself behind you, now forcing you to walk in the opposite direction to stay away from him. There’s ripples in the Force, the darkness swirling around you both. You feel him at the shields you keep up, but he’s not trying like he should be to get in. He’s basically just sitting there, occasionally reaching forward to remind you that he’s waiting. It’s a silent plea to be let in, but you won’t listen.

“Snoke was a worthless coward. He was incapable of fighting his own battles. Why do you feel such remorse for him when he’s the one who’s caused you so much pain?” Kylo demands, so blatantly angry at the idea of you sympathizing with Snoke. You don’t. You never would. You’re glad to see that he’s gone, that you’ll never again have to experience dread when returning back to base. Snoke tortured you both but after knowing of him ever since you were a child, hearing him in your head, that seed of unease blooms into fear. What will happen now? What kind of leader could Kylo Ren possibly be?

You don’t have the chance to ponder it further. The backs of your legs hit the seat of the throne after having been forced up the dais by Kylo who now comes so close it causes you to fall unceremoniously into the chair. Your lightsaber is still active, poised at his throat even as he slams both hands on either armrest, caging you in. “I saved us,” he snarls, “and this is how you thank me?”

Even as Kylo’s presence threatens to rob you of breath, his darkness trying to choke you, you don’t cower. Your lightsaber reflects in your eyes in the same way it does his helmet, the heat from the plasma an uncomfortable presence between you. “How am I supposed to trust you?” You practically throw the words in his face, and you can see the way they make him recoil. It’s barely there, so very slight, but he draws back just a fraction of a centimeter and you hear the creak of his gloves as he grips the armrests tighter. It hurts him, it brings you satisfaction. You feel the flinch in the Force, betraying his true emotions to someone like you who’s more attuned than he realizes.

And then it’s gone. He brushes it aside and replaces that emotion with bristling anger. He reaches past your arm, past your lightsaber without a care, and he grips your chin. You want to thrash against him, want to fight against his hold; it would be so easy with the saber you have against his neck. But you can’t bring yourself to. You let him hold you there as he makes sure you’re looking at him, his fingers digging into your jaw.

“He was going to have me kill you.” Kylo says, tone quiet and blunt as he brings forth information he’d been holding inside of himself for so long, letting it consume him. “That’s why I sent you away.” Scenes flash in your mind, brought to you by Kylo so that you can see exactly what terrified him, to see what caused the sense of fear he had that day he gave you your mission.

Snoke would’ve had you both come to the throne room, and you would’ve thought nothing was amiss. But then he would reveal that he wished to further Kylo’s training after his recent failures, and that you were the key to making him stronger. That key was your own death. Snoke would admit as such, that he wants Kylo to kill you. You could feel it—the rage inside of you, the despair. Snoke had always favored Kylo over you because Kylo had a name behind him, he had a legacy. You were just a kid with a meaningless family that he picked up off a worthless planet that turned out to have more potential than anyone could’ve ever dreamed. You’d surpassed Kylo in more than enough trials to prove that and yet… it didn’t matter. You were to die to push someone else forward.

“You would’ve fought,” Kylo murmurs, briefly breaking you from the vision, “but you would’ve lost.”

You see what he means. You turned on Snoke, you lashed out with everything you had in you as the Praetorian Guards advanced. You killed all of them, your will to live greater than their own strength, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough against Snoke, who forced you to your knees even as he struggled to do so from your protesting. You could’ve been something, you could’ve been more, but you were just fodder for the machine. You at least looked Kylo in the eyes with your chin held high when he lifted the hilt of his lightsaber. The vision cut out directly after that, and you find yourself heaving for breath.

Your own lightsaber is gone, taken from your grip by Kylo while you watched your death play out. The anger that boils in your gut almost feels misplaced because that future never came to pass, and it never will. Because of what Kylo did. He sent you on a convenient mission to the Outer Rim, as far away from Snoke as possible. Then he took his chances back here, trying to figure out some way to save you, and then the perfect opportunity was laid at his feet.

He keeps his hold on you, forcing you to watch through his own eyes and learn of what he’d gone through. Rey had shown up. The young Jedi girl actually had the gall to deliver herself right to her enemy. She definitely has guts, you’d give her that. She tried and failed to get Kylo to turn away from the Dark Side, trying to make him see the Light. But it didn’t work when his thoughts remained on you and keeping you from Snoke’s grasp. He was too focused on the fact that if the future he saw came to fruition, he knew he’d lose himself entirely. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

So he used Rey in his schemes, used her as a distraction of sorts. He used her to finally kill Snoke, to free himself and you from his reign. He couldn’t believe it actually worked, that Snoke was truly lying on the floor severed in half. It was like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, a ghoul finally banished from the corners of his mind. It was peaceful, but only for a moment. Him and Rey fought the Guards, and then he tried to get back his grandfather’s lightsaber once more to no avail. The memories from then on are bright flashes, fuzzy images, and explosions—nothing you can make out.

You’re pulled from Kylo’s memories, your jaw slack and your heart racing. It feels unreal, something you can’t believe because you weren’t here to witness it. But if you had been here, you would’ve died. “Now you see, don’t you? I told you that you’d understand. Yet you still can’t bring yourself to trust me. It just disgusts you, doesn’t it?” He says lowly, jabbing at you. “How could you ever bear to trust someone like me?” Someone who saved your life, he wants to add with his mocking tone.

There’s a moments pause where you stare at each other, unsure of what to think or say. You wish you could see him, could see his eyes and his face. Your nervous hand reaches up, attempting to get the latch on his helmet to take it off, but he stops you abruptly. He grips your wrist firmly in a leather-clad hand. You try and fumble for words. “Kylo, I-“

“No. You’ll address me as Supreme Leader. You need to get used to that title.” He snaps, forcing you all the way back into the throne as he comes even closer, his boot sliding between your own and forcing your legs apart. Your breath hitches when he takes both your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head so you can’t do anything stupid like trying to shove him off or drawing your lightsaber on him again.

The rise and fall of your chest quickens when cold air kisses the skin of your stomach, your layers shoved up by his free hand. The leather of his glove is rough as it skates along the newly exposed area on its way further down. His fingers catch on the waistband of your pants and they don’t hesitate to slip beneath the fabric. Your body feels like it’s been set on fire, your spine pressed so firmly against the back of the throne that there’s nowhere else for you to go, even as you try to scoot away from his burning touch.

You jolt when he grazes your clit, your teeth digging so sharply into your lip that you think you taste blood. He’s moves slow and with purpose, knowing exactly what he’s doing when a low groan rumbles from the back of your throat. You can tell by the way he’s so willing to taunt and tease, by the way his huge body covers your own and boxes you in, that this isn’t going to be good for you. The pad of his index finger traces slow, tortuous circles around your entrance while the heel of his palm makes occasional, light taps against your clit to keep you aware, to keep you anticipating.

“You love to say how much you hate me, and yet you’re always so eager for me.” Kylo spits, his voice guttural when it comes through his helmet, struggling to get past the vocoder as more than just lustful static. He can feel how wet you are, how easily the dark leather of his gloves slides between your folds. His finger finally plunges into your waiting cunt not a second later, a gasp rattling your body. It’s a welcome feeling, one that finally gives the throbbing of your walls something to focus on instead of just aching, empty space.

The thrusts of his finger are lazy, staying at the same easy pace even as you squirm. He’s more generous to your clit now at least, his palm staying firmly against it, providing the friction of rough leather and stitched seams with each in and out of your hole. You whine in pleasure when he finally adds a second finger, the thick digits filling you more completely. They go farther, sink deeper into your heat, finding and pressing against the spot you’re never able to get on your own. Your hands struggle against the hold he has on them, your attempts at freeing yourself as your body writhes having been unsuccessful. You know you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers across your wrists from the strength of his grip.

Kylo enjoys seeing you like this, completely under his mercy and so, so very compliant. It’s rare when he gets what he wants from you—your submission—so he’s relishing in it now while it lasts. His enjoyment is obvious from the erection creating a tent in his pants. You have to avert your eyes from it, trying not to think of the way he’d use it, the way he’d ram into you again and again and fill you with his desire. You can feel your own mounting, a knot in your gut that grows bigger with his ministrations, threatening to come undone.

You’re almost there. You’re standing on the ledge, leaning over the side, ready to fall off into bliss. Just a few more thrusts of his fingers, a few more circles around your clit, and your orgasm will be washing through you. But it never comes despite the way he continues to fingerfuck you, despite the way you can feel it right there and so ready to burst. It’s like something’s blocking it on purpose, a dam built with the sole mission of denying your release. Your eyes snap open, finding Kylo. He huffs a laugh. “What, you think I’d let you cum that easily?” It pisses you off how much he’s liking this. “I’ve barely even started.”

You practically growl at him, lip drawing up to reveal your sharp teeth, but you know he just finds it amusing. Especially when you try to grind your hips down onto his fingers as if that’ll be enough to break the Force hold he has on your body. You can’t move much beyond that with the way he looms over the throne, his legs pinning yours and your hands still stuck above your head. An involuntary whimper rips from your throat when he moves his thumb to your clit, rubbing at it with more purpose and ferocity and a third finger managing to slip into your eager cunt. Your feet scrabble against the floor, trying to find some kind of purchase as the denial of an orgasm makes you dizzy. You try and swallow the drool pooling in your mouth, the breath of your panting fogging the metal panels on Kylo’s helmet from your proximity.

You give in to begging once tears prick your eyes. Your words are barely more than a whisper. “Please- please, Kylo, just-“

There’s a harsh thrust up into your cunt that has your words falling silent, instead replaced by a sharp, high pitched yelp. “What did I fucking tell you?” He demands, pressing even harder against that spot along your walls that has you seeing stars. You feel like you’re about to explode from the built up tension in your body. “What did I tell you to call me?”

You glare at him, your eyes full of all the fury you can’t manage to get out with your voice. You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to bend to this man who’s held such a ridiculous amount of power over you for what feels like your entire life. Your teeth grind together in defiance, even as your face burns. He hums at that and seems almost happy that you’re going against him. He does love a good fight.

His fingers stall and begin to slowly slide out of you, ready to leave you completely empty and with a simmering need that won’t be taken care of. You jolt, eyes widening. It’s in that moment you find you don’t actually give a fuck about defying him, you just need him to stay in you. “Supreme Leader!” You practically shout, so sudden it even startles yourself. Your next words are quieter, more restrained. “Supreme Leader, please..”

You moan in relief when his fingers take back their positions deep inside your cunt, the sounds of your slick sloshing around filling the empty throne room. “Good,” Kylo says roughly, clearly struggling himself. Your obedience is music to his ears and it does nothing to soothe the ache of his cock still restrained by his pants. It just makes it worse. “Say it again.”

You hate him. You’re probably going to kill him. “Supreme Leader, please-“ you have to choke back your humiliation and death threats, “please let me cum.”

This time Kylo groans, the desperate sound crackling through his helmet. He thrusts his fingers one more time, swiping his thumb along your clit, before he lets you go. The release is instant. Something akin to a scream comes from you with your orgasm, the world around you feeling like it’s shattering. You can barely breathe, pure pleasure wracking your body and sending lightning through your limbs. The dam finally broke, and it feels so fucking good. The unbearable pressure is gone, bliss washing through you like a wave from the ocean as you cum around his hand. “See how nice I am?” Kylo says with heavy breath, barely able to contain himself. His eyes are locked on to where his hand disappears into your pants; he can feel your cum pooling on his glove. “How well I reward you when you’re good?”

It’s all you can do to nod dumbly, too blissed out with your ears still ringing to really comprehend what he’s saying. You don’t resist when your pants are pulled off, your underwear entirely soaked through and baring your sensitive, wet cunt to the cold air. You shiver. Your cloak is tossed aside, your top layers undone to reveal your upper body. You’re barely more than a rag doll when Kylo braces an arm against your back, using it to scoop you out of the throne so he can take your spot. His zipper is pulled down, his boxers lowered so his cock is finally freed, painfully erect and dribbling precum.

He sinks you down to the hilt without hesitation. All the air is punched from your lungs, your body tensing as his length fills you to capacity. Kylo’s appreciative groan is loud and throaty, his fingers digging bruises into your hips. You have to pause for a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion, feeling so full it’s like you’re not allowed to breathe. Your lips are parted, your nails digging into the ribbed sleeves on his forearms for purchase. His body is warm and muscular beneath your hands.

You struggle to move, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm, your limbs weak and trembling. Kylo makes no effort to help you, his helmet instead tilted up towards you expectantly. “If you want it you’ll have to work for it, Commander.” He says with some twisted amusement. You briefly consider how easy it’d be to reach forward and wring his neck.

But you put that aside, swallowing your broken pride. You unfortunately want his cock more than that. The first thrust is bliss, pleasure filled shocks coursing through you like a live wire. You and Kylo moan in tandem, both of you finally getting some form of relief. Your movements are slow at first, trying desperately to get used to the feeling of his cock splitting you open. His hands travel up your sides, his left glove still soaked in your juices and leaving a trail along your skin. He finds your breasts, encompassing them with large, warm palms that have your head tilting back and your eyes closing. He pinches your stiffened nipples between his fingers, rolling them experimentally as you whine and arch into his touch. Your pace on his cock is steady now, finally having figured out a rhythm.

“Touch yourself.” Kylo orders suddenly, words sounding choked.

Your gaze snaps to him, brows furrowing slightly. “What?”

“Touch yourself.” He snaps again. “If you’re smart, you’ll listen to what I say.”

You glower, your face burning even hotter. He knows you don’t enjoy doing it, which is giving him all the more reason to make you. You hesitate, both not wanting to do as he demands and also not wanting to see whatever repercussions will come if you don’t. Your shaking fingers reach down and find your clit, the bud still sensitive and aching from Kylo’s earlier abuse. Your lip is between your teeth, trying to keep back your moans as you run circles over your clit. The stimulation quickly builds and you can feel that familiar knot forming in your gut again.

Kylo’s helmet tilts up and you can feel his eyes on you. You try not to meet them. “You look pretty like this, you know? Finally fucking listening to me.” He rumbles, giving your nipple a particularly hard pinch and making you writhe in his grip. “Say my name.”

You try to ignore him, ignore his stupid power trip and ego boost. But then he makes his move—one hand comes down to grip your wrist and the other is firm on your hip, completely stalling your movements and messing up your concentration. Your climax steadily begins to fade, a loud and frustrated groan coming from you. “This is stupid.” You snarl at him.

He doesn’t back down. “Say it.”

A harsh breath blows through your nose. You move your head so you can look past him, not wanting to admit that this is what he’s bringing you to. “Supreme Leader.” You mutter, your hips shifting to try and get friction with his cock still hard inside your cunt. He puts a stop to that quickly with a harsh squeeze.

Kylo lets go of your wrist to instead grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Again.”

“Supreme Leader.” You grit out.

“One more time.”

You grab his forearm, your nails digging deep enough and with such fury that they’ll leave marks. It’s the least you can do. “Supreme Leader.”

“Good girl.” He murmurs, thumb running along your lower lip. You want nothing more than to sink your teeth into it until you taste blood. “You’ve done so well.”

His following thrust up into you has you forgetting what insult you were going to say. Both of his hands rest on your hips now, keeping you steady as he fucks you mercilessly. You bend forward, gripping his shoulders as some kind of anchor, punctuated moans spilling endlessly from your mouth. His helmet is downturned, the forehead of it resting against your sternum as he watches his cock disappear inside of your cunt, slick smearing along the front of his pants. He uses his Force to swirl against your clit, creating a sort of buzzing sensation that quickly brings that knot back and sets your blood ablaze.

“A commander reduced to a fucking cocksleeve. So good for my dick, aren’t you?” He breathes, words made even more gravelly by his vocoder. “Fuck.” You can only nod along and whimper, your brain fucked into useless mush.

You grip him tighter when your second orgasm finally bursts, your walls spasming around his cock and making him curse even louder. Cum gushes from you, dripping along your folds and making a further mess of Kylo’s pants. You cry out when he keeps thrusting into you, everything throbbing and overly sensitive for his harsh pace. You can’t think straight, you can only dig your teeth into the padded armor of his shoulder as tears well and threaten to fall.

His cock twitches, his hips stuttering. He gets in a few more thrusts before he’s cumming at last, a slew of cusses mixed with grunts and groans falling from his mouth. You hum in pleasure when you feel his warm spend filling your cunt to the brim, effectively coating your walls white.

Neither of you can move for a couple of minutes after. You don’t know how long you sit there for, your body finally relaxing and your eyes closing. He doesn’t pull out, his cock softening inside you and making sure you stay plugged full of his cum. You’re tempted to fall asleep before Kylo’s hands are leaving your hips and instead coming up to undo the latches on his helmet. There’s a hiss of air as the mechanisms slide out of place and he’s able to take it off. His black hair falls around his face, sweat drenching the ends.

You struggle to lift yourself up, but you want to see him. Your hands shake from exhaustion when they reach forward, taking his cheeks in your palms. He looks so tired. His sigh tickles your skin, his eyes closing at your touch. He seems significantly more relaxed now, his body letting go of its tension and his Force signature becoming something calmer. You can feel the weight shift as he leans into your right hand. His arms circle around your back, somehow pulling you even closer.

He swallows before speaking. “I was… afraid.” He mutters. “Afraid without you here… and yet I had to do it. Otherwise I’d lose you.”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips gentle as they brush along your collarbone. “I was afraid that I would fail. That it would’ve all been for nothing.” He continues. He sounds so quiet, quieter than you’ve heard him in a while. You run your fingers through his hair. “I just… I’m glad I sent you away.”

“Me too.” You mumble, your eyes trained on the back wall as your mind runs. You’re finally coming to terms with the fact that your death had almost been set in stone at the hands of Snoke. Coming to terms with the fact that your lifelong teacher was going to have you executed by his star pupil, and the fact that Kylo decided to save you and possibly get himself killed instead. The fact he did everything he could to make sure you wouldn’t come back to a death sentence. You swallow thickly. “Thank you.”

He stills at those words. They’re the last thing he expected to hear from you and it makes him uneasy. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s okay. You know he can’t. Besides, it’s easy to gather what he wants to say from his Force in this moment of vulnerability. An apology is at the forefront; an apology for taking things out on you again. He doesn’t regret it, but he didn’t mean for it to happen. Then underneath that there’s longing that’s still lingering from when you were gone. He wanted nothing more than to see you, to know you were okay. He’s more than happy to have you in his arms now.

You pull yourself out of his thoughts, blowing out a tired sigh and resting your head on his shoulder. He wraps his cape around you to protect your mostly-naked form from the chill of the throne room, his warmth bleeding into you. You’re content to just sit there in his lap, and he seems content to let you. He relaxes back into the throne, cradling you against him with his soft breathing ruffling the hairs on the top of your head.

You’re together. You’re alive. That’s all you need in this moment.

[xylusbible]

never leaving — caleb x reader

—

💫 content: post-fight/making up with caleb 🤍 reader is mc (ig). established relationship. xavi mentioned (as your best friend)

💫 word count: 2.4k

💫 content warning: MDNI ‼️🔞, smut, make up sex, sex on the floor (lol), intercourse, possessive caleb (👅)

💫 xybb notes: everytime i think the caleb rot has left me, i’m wrong… i originally wrote this for another fandom with another pairing, but never posted it because i thought it was ooc but it actually worked perfectly with caleb so here we are. its slightly unfinished but i think its good enough. i’m also so obsessed with his ‘Rain’s Embrace’ bond date, as well as his possessive ass in chapter 9 of the homecoming wings main story. so this is an amalgamation of those. i’m sorry it’s not like a full complete thing but i had to stop there because i thought it would drag on otherwise…. hope you enjoy x (hoping to god next thing i post will be xavi, sylus or raf cuz this has to end lmfao)

this fucking rain. when you left for work this morning you wish you had bothered to check the weather for the rest of the day. now after your hellpawn of a shift (even as it was only an in-office work day), you got off the train to a torrential downpour. lucky you.

your week couldn’t get any worse.

work has been so rough the past few days. you’re exhausted after every shift, and barely have the willpower to get up the next morning to do it all over again. on top of that, your landlord sent a message that rent would be raised after your next payment. it’s not that the job doesn’t pay well, but this means less money for leisurely things (arcade tokens, kitty cards gacha, etc.), and that really wasn’t helping your mood. lastly, you haven’t talked to caleb all week..

you got into a fight with him over the weekend. things had been a bit tense between you lately and a smartass remark of his was apparently your last straw. well it was anyway… but after the shitty week you’ve had, you’d kill to be wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms right about now. but you’re stubborn and headstrong, and you’re tired of forgiving him so easily when he doesn’t deserve it. he should have to work for your forgiveness.

you’ve been ignoring his messages since the fight and you were wondering how long it would take before he decided to give up and try a different method. you’ve been rolling around the idea of talking to him again throughout the week, but on top of everything else going on, you’re anger and annoyance towards him stayed at the forefront of your brain.

you cursed softly as you thought over everything again on your soggy walk home.

the fight began after caleb read a text on your phone from xavier. it was a harmless message, asking if he could come over sometime in the next few days after work to finish a tv series the 2 of you have been binging. you were in the kitchen grabbing a water when your phone went off and you asked caleb to see who it was. he made some snarky remark about how xavier seems to be over at your place more than he himself is these days, and you were just so tired of having this conversation over and over again.

xavier is literally your neighbor, and coworker and close friend. that was it. you’ve known caleb basically your entire life and you’ve been together for years now, so you don’t understand why he still has the audacity to be so possessive when it comes to your other guy friends.

so you blew up at him. you couldn’t help it. it had been a long time coming, since you’d already had multiple conversations about this topic before.

you both end up arguing for what seems like hours. you bring up trust, and a ‘how long do we have to be together for you to understand that i don’t want anyone else but you ?!’. both your voices are raised and it ends with you saying you want a break and kicking him out.

you sigh in frustration after going over the argument in your head for what seems like the thousandth time since it’s happened. you kick a rock.

stupid caleb. as soon as you see your apartment building come into view, you decide you’re going to turn your phone off as soon as you get home, take a hot shower to get all this rain water off of you, and then sleep the whole weekend and hope that everything will be better when you finally get out of bed on monday.

except, those plans all get thrown into the trash, as the closer you get to your building, you see the unmistakable figure of your boyfriend standing outside the lobby, equally as soaked as you.

you stop walking and stand still as he looks up to make eye contact with you. he stands up straight and jogs towards you, a look of concern evident on his face as he places both hands over your head as if that will actually be enough stop the rain from hitting you.

“where the hell is your umbrella?” he asks, or more like scolds. you roll your eyes.

“where’s yours?” you say back, fully noticing his drowned rat appearance.

“i didn’t check the weather before i went out,” he said with a frown.

“neither did i,” you sigh. you avoid eye contact and cross your arms.

“what are you doing here, caleb?”

“i came to talk to you. you haven’t answered any of my messages all week.”

“well i don’t want to talk to you unless you’re here to apologize.”

he sighs and moves to take your hand in his to pull you underneath the tiny awning of your apartment building. as soon as you’re under, you shake your hand out of his. he looks at you with a hurt expression.

“that’s why i’m here,” he says. “well?” you ask, eyebrows raised as you wait for him to continue.

“i’m sorry okay? i’m sorry for being a dick about xavier. it’s just— we don’t get to spend that much time together these days. we’re both busy with work all the time and xavier gets to see you practically everyday, while i only see you on weekends and random weekdays, and it ticks me off a bit that he gets to live right above you while i’m train rides away.”

“that doesn’t mean that you get to take it out on me. you know i don’t like xavier like that. you act like i’d rather spend more time with him than you. i spend time with him because we’re always around each other so it’s easy, but that just means i cherish whatever amounts of time you and i have together because i don’t get to see you as often.” a frown takes hold of your expression.

“with what little time we do get to spend together, the last thing i want to hear while we are, is you complaining about my friends,” you huff.

caleb gives you the saddest puppy dog expression you’ve ever seen and you have to look away to avoid forgiving him instantly.

“i understand that now. i didn’t meant to make you feel like i think you like him more than me. i’m just frustrated with the lack of time we get to spend together. i just can’t get this stupid idea out of my head that you’ll realize one day that i’m not worth the time and effort, when you already have someone else so close to you that you’d be able to see more often,” he admits. you notice his fist clenched at his side as he speaks.

“idiot. ever since we graduated from high school, we’ve been apart. there’s been times the past few years where i’d only see you every few months, and we made it work then, so i don’t know why you’re acting like it’s hard now,” you say.

“i love you, caleb. whatever time we can spend together, i’m happy to have. i just wish you’d pay attention to that instead of worrying about others.”

his expression softens at that.

“i’m sorry, pipsqueak, really. every moment we spend together is like a gift. i shouldn’t be taking it for granted. i love you with every cell in my body, i just can’t stand the idea of someone getting the chance to spend more time with you than me.”

you blush and scoff quietly at the cheesy way he talks.

“then make the time we spend together worthwhile and stop thinking about xavier.”

he moves one hand up to place under your chin, tilting your head upwards so you’re forced to make eye contact with him.

his expression is dead serious as he speaks.

“from now on, when i’m with you, i’ll make sure you know that you’re the only thing i ever have on my mind.” he uses his thumb to wipe a raindrop off your bottom lip.

you realize then how much you’ve truly missed his touch.

“do you forgive me?” he asks, letting go of your chin and placing his hands on your waist loosely, as if he’s prepared for you to push him away again.

“you’re going to have to prove it to me,” you say, stepping a bit closer.

“show me that you trust me, that you trust my love for you. prove to me that you love me enough for the distance not to matter,” you tell him.

once he seems to realize that you’re not going to pull away, he pulls you closer. you place your hand on the front of his shoulders as you hold eye contact.

“i will baby, let me start right now,” he says, squeezing your waist a bit.

you nod and he closes the distance between you. you slip your hands around his neck as he kisses you deeply. the only sound being the backdrop of the rain around you. you stay like that for who knows how long before he pulls away slowly, placing his forehead against yours.

“anything you want, i’ll give it to you,” he whispers.

“i just want you, caleb,” you answer easily.

“then i’m all yours. i’ve only ever been yours,” he says.

he kisses you one more time, before moving back and taking your hand once again to pull you into the lobby of your building. you both rush quickly to the elevator; and do your absolute best to keep your hands to yourselves as you make your way up to your floor. you hand him your keys as he once again leads the way.

as soon as caleb unlocks door and you’re inside, he’s slamming you up against it, shutting it quickly and attaching your lips harshly this time.

you gasp and use your hands to tangle into his rain-wet hair.

he holds a tight grip on your hips as he shoves his tongue into your mouth which you greedily swallow around, desperate to take as much as you can get from whatever he’s willing to give you.

within minutes of heated kissing (more like swallowing) caleb moves to undo the buttons of your ruined blouse and you follow suit by moving to rip open his belt from his pants loops as quickly as you can manage.

you finish before he does and move to shove his soaking wet pants and underwear down before finally breaking the kiss to drop down to your knees in front of him. you use one hand to take hold of his half hard member and the other to cling onto his thigh desperately as you look up at him with pleading eyes as if asking for permission.

to your surprise though, he shakes his head and dropped to his knees as well, taking your face into his hands and kissing you again.

“i can’t- take the foreplay, baby, just let me have you,” he says into the kiss before pulling back the slightest amount to be able to look you in the eyes.

you nod easily, hurriedly, and he wastes no time in pulling you into his lap and moving you to lay on the floor, you back against the doormat.

it took him only seconds to flip your wet and heavy skirt up to reveal your equally soaked panties. he moves down quickly to bite at the waistband of the undergarment and use his hands to rip them right across the middle, freeing your midsection, not having the patience to take the time to take them off properly.

you gasp at the display of strength and with the dismay of a ruined pair of her underwear, but before you could say anything, caleb moves back up to kiss you once again—easily batting away whatever thoughts you had about your underwear. you wrap your arms around his neck as he pushes your legs apart enough to fit between them, using one hand to lift one up and forward, leaving you slightly open.

you exchange no words as caleb breaks the kiss momentarily for you to both look down between you as he uses his free hand to take his now fully hard length and place it at your entrance. he bumps the tip of his dick against your cunt a few times to get it more wet before slowly pushing it inside.

you moan unabashedly at the feeling of the head of his cock nestled inside of you, feeling like it’s been literally forever since he was there last.

“come on,” you breathe out heavily, not wanting him to wait any longer.

he moves his head up to look at you in the eye again and uses a hand to cup the side of your cheek gently, before moving his hips forward in one quick thrust, bottoming out instantly. you let out a shaky yell and roll your eyes back a bit at the action.

caleb leans in again to take your bottom lip between his own and suck it into his mouth before pulling his hips back slowly, just to slam them in again. you moaned around his mouth and move one hand up to his hair again to grip it tightly as he starts a quick and rough pace, fucking you into the floor beneath you.

caleb lets out soft grunts of his own into your mouth before you can’t focus on kissing any longer and he moves to mouth at your neck instead.

“i’ll never let you leave me, pips,” he whispers into your neck as you tug on his hair.

“you know this is where you’re meant to be,” he says, moving his head up to meet your half focused eyes with his own.

“yours,” is all you can manage to get out between moans.

“that’s right baby. you’re mine. only. always will be,” he says.

you nod frantically, as you shut your eyes tightly.

“never wanna- be anyone else’s..” you say between moans.

“good, cuz you can’t. i won’t let you..” he moves to whisper directly into your ear before moving down to your neck once again, but this time, to bite.

[jacaerysgf]

wrong pick!

Reality tv star!Jacaerys x Reality tv star!Reader | 2.8k wrds

Jace has been paired up with cassandra since the beginning, thinking their bond was pretty strong he felt as though he had nothing to worry about but he was soon proven wrong. and he quickly finds out theres always been someone else in his corner.

too hot to handle!au, fluff, mild angst, confessions, blooming love, first kiss, jace pov, acts of service, she/her prns used for reader, slightly proofread

[its pretty late into the game so they have the watches if you know what im talking abt some things in this fic wont really make sense if you don't know the show, used outer banks characters names cause i was watching it while writing it dont mind me, ive also never watched the show ive only played the games so idk what goes on, im very rusty i havent properly written something in months im sorry if this is lame no taglist cause idk if people care anymore. does anyone even read these authors notes anyway enjoy!]

Being on too hot too handle was turning out to be a lot more fun than Jace had originally expected. He had met someone he truly thought he connected with. or at least he had thought so not even an hour ago but now he was storming away from the outdoor lounge pit with a furious look on his face as Cassandra calls after him.

He’s never been one to break rules, even on a show like this when moneys draining from the pool left and right he doesn’t dare let him be the reason it gets knocked down a couple thousand. When he paired up with Cass he had been worried at first since she had seemed like the sexually driven type but she seemed respectful of the fact he had no intention of breaking any rules. He wanted that money to be able to provide for his family back home so this meant a lot to him. Yet after they had gotten the green light she seemed to be more persistent in her attempts to get them to break the rules and he was not interested in the slightest which pissed her off.

She had come into the bathroom as he had just gotten out of the shower, the two flirted a bit and she had tried to kiss him to which he backed away. He truly didn’t mean anything bad by it but she had took it really poorly and stormed off from him, he tried to calm her down and she just blew up on him. He had realized the two had completely different thoughts about their relationship and she clearly did not like him the way he liked her and he lost it. She didn’t respect him, she could barely even remember the things he had said to her which was more than enough for him.

When she realized he had gotten truly upset with her, which he hadn’t done before, she tried to back peddle but he simply stormed off leaving her to call after him. He wishes he was more thankful she didn’t follow him but a part of him stings that she didn’t even care to come after him. He walks along the beach side until a familiar figure comes into his view and smiles at him. Kiara, one of the original contestants here like him, who quickly paired up with JJ another contestant, and the two had become good friends.

“Heard some yelling all the way over there,, everything good?” He drops down to sit in the sand next to her and sighs. “I don’t know. I think me and Cass are done.” He tries not to get hung up on the fact Kiara doesn’t really seem surprised by the news. Was it obvious to everyone but him they weren’t going to work? She sits quietly for a moment, Trying to put the right words together before she speaks. “Are you upset?”

“I don’t know. I think so? I feel like I should be more upset.” “I’m sorry dude but I don’t even know how you put up with Cassandra so don’t feel bad about not feeling bad.” He turns and glares at her, his mood souring slightly. “She’s not as bad as you all seem to think. she,, can be nice.” Kiara laughs with disbelief and looks at him expectantly, “Sure,, like when?” A soft smile falls on his face as he recalls a moment in particular in mind. “I had been complaing about how my favorite shirt was all wrinkled and she steamed it for me.”

A look of pure confusion crossed her face. “What are you talking about about?” “It was awhile ago I had fucked up my shirt-” She quickly stops him placing her hands on his chest as she fully turns to look at him. “No dude I know what you’re talking about what do you mean Cassandra did that?” Now its his turn to be confused. Kiara full on belly laughs as he tries to understand what’s going on. “Ugh She’s gonna kill me for this but dude it was never Cassandra doing that stuff. Its Y/n. its always been her doing all that shit for you. Got a huge crush on you.”

Jace’s face is unreadable as he attempted to process this information. He had always assumed it was Cass since she was the one he had been complaining to about it to and she always liked doing little things for him without taking credit,,, right? There has been so many little things, little comforts, little actions done for him after he’s complained about it that he’s always just assumed was Cass and his stomach sinks at the idea its never been her. Kiara has no reason to lie to him. She’s your best friend here and he likes to think the two of them are good friends too. There’s no way she would be trying to set you up.

It was all you.

Kiara watches him with an amused expression as he tries to put the pieces together. He quickly stands and Kiara’s face grows into a knowing grin, “See you later!” He barely acknowledges her as he quickly sprints back towards the villa. Kiara looks out towards the ocean and shakes her head, speaking out loud more so for the camera than for herself. “She’s gonna kill me.”

His head is racing, his mind twisted up in knots as he finally arrived back to the villa. He flinches when he sees Cassandra has thrown herself a pit party, some of the other contestant comforting her as she sits and cries into her hands. All heads shoot up when his footsteps hit the pavement. Cassandra perks up and quickly rushes over to him, stopping him when he tries to walk away. “Jacey please lets talk,” “We’re done Cassandra. There’s no need to talk.” Her eyes widen in horror as he tries his best to gently move her out of his way but he stops him, “Please Jacey baby lets not do this to us-” “There is no us.” He spits out before storming past her into the villa house, ignoring the way she’s calling after him.

Jace’s eyes dart frantically around every room he enters until everything goes still once he finally sets his eyes on you. You’re sitting in the lounge pit, JJ on one side and on your other side sat Pope, one of the other contestants. Whatever conversation the three of you were having completely pauses as all eyes had turned towards him. He takes a moment to finally look at you. He’s seen you around often sure but he never had truly stopped to look at you. You're another one of the original contestants just like him. He remembers meeting you on the first day, The bright smile you had on your face, the way you made him a special drink at the bar and sent a wink his way. It had been the best drink he had ever had. He had always thought you were beautiful but right now he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

“Hey dude, you need something?” JJ is the first to speak up, sitting up slightly from his lax sitting position prior and looking at Jace with raised brows. Jace however did not spare him a single glance, his eyes lasered onto you as you attempted to act nonchalant about his presence in the room.

You’re wearing your hair differently today.

“Can we talk?”

Despite not addressing anyone directly everyone knows he’s talking to you. You glance over at pope who shrugs and another glance at JJ who looks equally as bewildered as pope does before nodding lightly and standing to follow Jace out the room. No words are exchanged between the two of you until you reach a private terrace just outside the villa. When he turns to face you you give him an awkward but friendly smile as you attempt to not take this situation too seriously. “Sooo, What's up?” you pop the p at the end and grip your hands tightly together behind your back.

You had just heard him and Cassandra fighting outside everyone did quite frankly. You almost wanted to go run after him but it would be too out of character, too obvious.

“I know it was you.”

Your friendly demeaner falters ever so slightly at his words instead contorting into confusion as you tilt your head at him. “What was me?” He takes that step closer to you and by instinct you lean away from him ever so slightly. “I know it was you who steamed my shirt.” Your face completely falls and he watches your face twitch as you attempt to come back with a statement but he doesn't let you.

“I know you had decided to make skewers that might because I had been complaining about missing my families yearly barbeque this year. I know you were the one who had found my missing t-shirt after I ripped apart the whole house looking for it;” With every claim that leaves his mouth he takes a step towards you he takes the slightly step towards you and you take the smallest step back.

At this point your back at hit the cloudy glass door and he was right in your face. He could hear your heart pounding but he’s sure you could hear his too, to anyone else it would see like you were completely unbothered by his words but he can see the minor glaze in your eyes which tells him everything he needs to know.

Before he can say anything else one more particular memory pops into his mind, he can’t believe he had ever forgotten about this. You go to open your mouth to deny his allegations during his moment of silence, the eye contact and closeness the two of your were sharing was killing you but he quickly stops you.

“And worst of all, I know you were the one who put my name down in the anonymous poll.” When your eyes widen in horror he fights back the grin that grows on his face.

Got you.

It had been about two weeks ago. They had been having a costume party and Kiara had suggested they do a ‘Who’s the hottest?’ anonymous poll, one for the girls and one for the guys. Since the couples had been pretty strong at that point and it was pretty deep into the game it was originally brushed off as a lame idea since everyone would just chose who they were paired with but Kiara managed to convince everyone since two new bombshells had just arrived yesterday.

Everyone had technically been right and most people picked who they were paired up with except one. Jace had two votes. that pretty much killed the night as Cassandra blew up trying to figure out who had voted for jace. She had never suspected you since you were pretty much always paired up with pope and pope had gotten a vote. So she automatically targeted Cleo, one of the new bombshells, who later took the fall for you and claimed she had voted for jace. He never thought anything about it, it was a harmless game. Plus Cleo had come up to him and said she wasn’t really interested she just thought he was hot, so he ended up getting pretty embarrassed by Cassandras outburst but brushed it off as he really caring about him.

He watches you gulp and look down as you try to collect yourself. He can practically see the wheels churning in your head as you attempt to come up with anything to say. Suddenly you look back up at him. your face hardened as you even slightly glare at him. “So what?” His gaze turns into something more affectionate at your admission and your face softens, “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” His hands had come to grab your forearms lightly as his words are let out in a light whisper. You turn your head away from him as you try to ignore his burning gaze into the side of your face. “You’re with Cassandra. I would be the bad guy if I tried to break that up.”

He releases one of his hands to grip the side of your face to turn you back towards him. “I wasn't in the beginning.” Your eyes turn away from him as you mutter something under your breath he can’t understand. He pulls your face towards him and he hears your breath hitch. “You can tell me.”

“She beat me to it.” He blinks rapidly as he doesn’t understand what you mean before his eyes widen in realization. The first retreat had just been completed, you and Cassandra had been deemed the stand outs from it and were given the opportunity to pick one person to go on a date with. Before you could even speak Cassandra picked jace first, he remembers agreeing to the date thinking Cassandra seemed interesting he had never even considered you were planning to ask him as well.

You had ultimately ended up picking pope who happily agreed. He had now realized you simply settled and picked pope because he had already been taken out and everything else seems to fall into place. You and pope aren’t a couple, everyone with eyes knows that the two of you are just really good friends who happen to get paired up together since there's nobody else around for the either of you as everyone is already paired up. And now pope has become infatuated with Cleo leaving you alone for the last two retreats. You had no interest in any of the bombshells that walked into the villa or any of the original contestants because you liked him.

He finds his chest tightening as he takes a deep shuddering breath. “I'm sorry.” You flinch as if he had slapped you and lightly shook your head. “For what?”

“For thanking someone other than you for the things you would do for me. For not knowing it was you,” You are quick to cut him off “You were never meant to know don’t feel sorry.” If anything that makes him feel worse. He breathes as if his throat is constricted. “Why?” You sigh in defeat, your beautiful eyes downdated. “As I said you and Cassandra are a thing and I'm not someone who likes to get between-” “Me and Cassandra are done.”

As your face contorts into something unreadable he pulls you to press your body directly against his. “The things that I had thought were the reasons that made me fall for Cassandra were actually done by you. I have no attachment to Cassandra know that I know its always been you all along. The one I should have been looking for, the one I should have gotten the green light with.” Both of your breathing turns erratic as the tension is palpable between you. “I want to try things with you. I don’t know how everything will turn out but I want to give whatever this is a shot. If you’ll let me.”

He gives you as long as you need to try and compose yourself. He watches as your eyes flicker all over his face for any sense of dishonesty but you can’t find anything because there is none. You can only see the pure affection dripping out of his pores and gulp. Once you open your mouth to speak you are cut off by a familiar light gleaming on his face.

Green.

He manages to contain his shock, despite his declaration he makes no move to close the distance between you and does not speak a single word. You decide words are pointless now as you grip the back of his head and pull him into a deep kiss. He eagerly meets your enusastic kiss and wraps his hands around your waist to hold you close to him. After what feels like eternity the both of you pull away and stare deeply into each others eyes, not even noticing the green light fade away into black.

“Lets give it a try.” The two of grin like giddy children as you press your foreheads together. No more words are needed to be spoken at least for now. He’s sure once the two of you leave the sanctuary of the terrace there's going to be a storm inside the villa but for now he can enjoy the peace and quiet alone with you.

[ronearoundblindly]

Wide Open Future (1)

Steve Rogers x agoraphobic!Reader

Summary: Steve saves you after the Battle of New York, but you don't want to be taken from your safe space.

Warnings for being self-indulgent, hurt/comfort that's not completed in this part, 'slow' burn (but it's not going to be super long in total), and none of those are actually warnings so much as content descriptions. Originally, this was a one-shot. Go figure. There are zero specification of male or female, ethnicity or size for this reader. WC ~2k

Life was fine until half of your apartment blew apart. In an instant, the whole outer wall evaporated, leaving you seven stories up, the floor (mostly) ripped out from under you.

Obviously, in the emergency, no one took the elevators, and through your front door to the hallway, you heard people run for the stairs. They passed you by, but that’s because you didn’t know any of your neighbors. You didn’t move though. You couldn’t.

The sound…the sounds got worse.

Unearthly shrieks from floating, flying whales. Explosions that rattled you to the bone. Human screams, outside and in. Rubble from the other two stories above you crashed down, chipping away chunks of your floor with it.

Your couch teetered for a while before it finally caved.

Your kitchen island peeled away in bits: countertop, dishwasher, and then the sink plumbing.

For some reason, the worst was your books cascading off the shelves like synchronized swimmers into a sparking pool of ash.

You didn’t move though. You couldn’t.

It grew dark. The sirens never stopped.

You got thirsty, then hungry, yet you stay so, so still.

This has gone on for hours now. Life as you know it is over, and you remain curled at the foot of your front door.

All the electricity is out. Your fridge is off and your food spoiling, but at least water stops shooting out of the destroyed sink. There are no working clocks. Your walls are bare, and your phone long since slid down the slanted rubble to god-knows-where. There’s no signal by then anyway.

You don’t make a single sound. You can’t. You’d rather die here than leave. The dusty air is taunting you. You’ve shifted from hyperventilating to holding your breath.

“I’ve got something. Hang on,” you hear just as a spotlight sweeps across your living room turned paper mache dollhouse.

“Jarvis, can you get me the tenant listing…yeah, looks like…apartment seven-four-three…oh.” The voice says your name. “I’m going to move this off of you, ok? Can you hear me?”

The gentle hand sweeps a thick layer of debris off of your head and back. You chance relaxing your hands to look at the face of your rescuer.

Him.

“No,” you dryly whisper. “I live here. ’S my home.”

“The building isn’t stable. We have to evacuate you.”

“No,” you try to scream, but it’s too hard to focus. You’re fighting to back up out of his reach, but rubble lies behind you. Your ankle slips into a crevice, stopped by strips of exposed rebar.

Captain America grabs your shaking arms. “I’m sorry,” he keeps saying, “I’m sorry. You can’t live here. It’s not safe.”

You repeat yourself, too. “I can’t leave. I can’t leave.”

He talks, but it’s not to you anymore. He checks that you’re the last they’ve found in the building. People got trapped in the stairwell beyond a point, and they’ve been handled. Cap announces he’s going to “see this one through and call it a night.”

You’d rather die than leave. Out there is not livable. Out there is unsafe.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

You don’t believe him.

“I need you to trust me, just for a little while, alright?”

“I don’t want to go—“

“Close your eyes for me. Please? Just close your eyes until we get there.”

“No, please, no.”

He has to pry your body a little straighter to get ahold of you, and your shaking becomes so violent he adjusts, using sincere force to pin you to his chest before getting a running start.

He jumps across the chasm of your building to land on what sounds like a metal ramp and calls for the Jarvis person to take him home.

Home? It’s not your home. 

“It’ll be okay, I promise,” he says against your temple.

You’re frozen, shaking so badly words couldn’t form if you tried.

“I swear to you it will be okay.”

You haven’t spoken since.

He set you down on a bed, but you promptly crawled to the smallest, darkest space you could find, a closet full of Converses and jackets.

Cap, in his filthy suit, tossing the cowl onto the dresser, simply asks if you’re injured since he can’t get to you. You won’t let him see. The most he can do is hand you a bottle of water and a watch from his nightstand to hold.

Time is still going, still moving, even when you won’t.

Steve is…tired.

What he knows from J.A.R.V.I.S. is very little and very simple: you rented that one apartment for years, it has a magnetic keycard entry for the building, a regular key for your unit’s door, and there is no record of you ever entering since your move-in day. Your utilities are 35% higher than the average in the area. Because you are there all day. Because you never leave.

Because, as you yourself said, you can’t leave.

Steve sympathizes, he does, but he had to make the tough call. He wasn’t going to watch you die. He couldn’t live with himself if he left you there. This is the next-best and now only option.

He’s exhausted and starving. Shawarma only goes so far when vaulting across sheer drops to help find survivors in spots too dangerous for regular emergency crews. Steve alone found thirty-nine men, women, and children. Tony, with jet-pack feet and metal-armor biceps, rescued somewhere in the range of eighty people.

Great. Give Stark a medal. Steve couldn’t care less right now.

That’s not true, exactly, but after back-to-back-to-back calls with shelters all at-capacity or worse, he’s in need of sustenance, a shower, and clean clothes.

First, he chugs two of the protein shakes his fridge gets stocked with. It’s never been by his choice—and he never thought he’d be quite this grateful for modern packaging,—but today’s the day. Next, he chances a sweep through his room, snatching up sweats and then barricading himself in the bathroom. Despite wanting to stay beneath the hot spray forever, Steve rushes, concerned that you’re hurt in a way that wasn’t obvious.

He brings you another water and one of the shakes. He has no expectation of you wanting it. At the moment, however, there’s no other food ready to eat.

He grabs another washcloth, warming it under the tap, and slowly wipes at your face and hands. You certainly look terrible but luckily have nothing more than minor cuts.

Lucky.

He doesn’t feel lucky, and he imagines you don’t either.

“I’ll find you some place better in the morning,” he promises. “I’ll be out that door—“ he points “—on the couch if you need anything. I know you don’t want to,” Steve adds quietly, lacing his voice with as much reassurance as superhumanly possible, “but make yourself at home. You’re going to get through this.”

Before he can push himself off the floor, you grip his fingers in thanks, and he hopes, he wishes, he prays for that to be true.

It doesn’t feel like enough. It never feels like enough.

It’s small.

That’s good for your purposes of adjustment, and the fact that he’s never there (almost never) helps, too.

It’s all his stuff, not your stuff, but your whole life doesn’t exist anymore.

Jarvis, which is actually an AI wired through the walls or something, arranges for you to see your therapist via video chat on an enormous projection in the bedroom.

There’s a bedroom and bathroom. Theoretically, there is a grand common room just outside the door but you can’t.

“I’ve been told they won’t move you until a permanent place is found,” Dr. Lucien cuts in. You were staring at the door again, wondering. “Temporary shelters are so crowded right now people are getting transferred back and forth to wherever there’re beds. I’m told it’s no trouble to let you stay.”

Would Captain America kick you out?

“That’s good." You try to be brave. "I can do that.”

You work remotely—that’s always been easiest—and it’s a weird time where you have both less and more to do because the city is still in chaos, meaning you’re at your computer when Cap knocks before entering his own room.

“Hey,” he says carefully, “I just need to clean up.”

“Of course,” you reply automatically. In your mind, you shrink the world down to just the yard-long desk and this rolling chair. You focus on your screen and everything is fine.

Hearing the shower is no different here than that muted, rushing sound that came from your neighbor’s place before. You’ve had people you know in your space without much incident for a long time; the problem is mostly out there.

Cap leaves immediately. You almost don’t notice at all until a plate is plunked down on the desk.

“I’m gonna rest here for a bit if you don’t mind.”

“It’s…” You can hardly look up, knowing that he’s watching, knowing he can see inside this tiny bubble world you’ve managed to illusion yourself into. “It’s your room.”

“Turns out the couch is not very comfortable longterm.”

You nod and shrug. From the list of tasks left to complete, you’ll be working for a while yet.

“You got everything you need?”

He doesn’t lean in to make eye contact, you notice. He’s patient.

With twitching fingers, you pull away from the keyboard and slowly turn, controlling your breath to not seem panicked.

“I do, Captain Rogers. Thank you very much.”

His eyes are…not full of pity like you expected. He looks like a host eager to please a guest, but that’s ridiculous when you are indefinitely trapped here, constantly invading his home.

“Call me Steve, and I’m glad to help,” he replies softly.

In situations like this, it would be customary to say ‘no, I’ll get out of your hair,’ ‘I’ll just leave you to it,’ ‘please don’t put yourself out on my account,’ but that’s the thing: you cannot get out. You cannot leave. You don’t want to. You never, ever want to, and in this specific case, it’s actually Steve’s fault.

He raps his knuckles on the wood. “Little though it may be…”

Steve chugs a glass of water on his way to the bed—which you’ve made diligently every morning and changed the sheets twice now—and stretches across the half closer to the door. You’re comforted by the fact you didn’t steal the exact spot he sleeps in on top of bogarting his quarters.

You use his desk, you have clothes in the closet which Jarvis had someone bring you, and you etched out a corner of the bathtub rim for wash products. You’ve for sure done enough to invade already, so you stay silent and work while Steve falls asleep, snoring lightly.

You deep clean the bathroom one day when extremely restless, and although he insists you did not need to, Steve beams with gratitude.

You do a little more around the room, and a little more, and a little more.

The single room and en suite bathroom become your oasis, and—as promised—a safe space that you thoroughly dread leaving. The dread includes leaving Steve Rogers.

You know that all of those things will lead to another tragic episode once you have to move again. It makes you do more in hopes of being essential, of being needed to stay.

Steve pops his head in.

"Would you...would you want to watch a movie with me tonight? I checked out a few--well, I guess you'd call them 'classics' now--from the library, and I thought...maybe..."

With one flash of a smile, your oasis grows to two rooms. Life just might be fine again someday, just as he promised.

[Next Part]

A/N: I'm probably going to regret not just completing this before posting.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @rogersideup (tagging you because this kinda reminded me of your series Late Night Talking which I love so much!) @rogersbarber @blogbog710 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thiquefunlover63 @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries @veryprairieberry

[supernotnatural2005]

The Arrangement - Chapter Ten (End)

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Two years have passed since you and Dean finally lay everything out on the table, a lifetime of love and friendship, and it's about time it's made official.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings/tags: Smut (18+) Fluff!! Emotions are high in this one! and a surprise ending...👀

AN: Alright guys! We have officially reached the end of this series! It's been a ride and I'm so grateful for those who stuck around till the end and rode this journey with me! 🥹 It was my first time writing a full series and I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I have! 😭❤️ (gifs not mine, found on google)

P.S. This chapter was originally 3k… 😉

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Dean exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as he stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his tie for what had to be the hundredth time. The reflection staring back at him felt surreal—like he was looking at someone else. Someone settled. Someone whole.

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. If someone had told him two years ago that this was where he’d end up��with you—he’d have called them crazy.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

Sam stepped in, already looking dangerously glassy-eyed.

Dean smirked. “You gonna cry, Sammy?”

Sam huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he stepped forward, resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Just… proud of you, man. And happy for you. You deserve this.”

Dean swallowed. He hadn’t expected the weight of the moment to hit quite like this, but suddenly, it did. All those years—the two of you orbiting each other, pushing and pulling, too damn stubborn to admit what was obvious to everyone else. For so long, he’d been afraid to want this, to believe he could have it. But now?

He shook his head, smirking. “Jesus, if you start bawling, we’re gonna have to seat you in the back.”

Sam laughed, shoving him lightly before pulling him into a tight hug. Dean clapped his back, holding onto the moment longer than he’d admit.

Then, the door swung open again, and the rest of his friends poured in—Benny, Cas, Gabe—all wearing varying degrees of smug grins.

"Well, well, well," Gabe drawled. "Look at you, all cleaned up and looking respectable. Never thought I’d see the day."

Dean rolled his eyes, but Benny clapped him on the back. “You ready for this, brother?”

Dean didn’t even hesitate. “Hell yeah.”

Then, the door opened one last time, and John Winchester stepped in.

The room quieted just slightly—not out of tension, but out of the weight that John always carried with him. His gaze swept over Dean, taking him in.

“How you doin’?” John asked.

Dean let out a breath as he smoothed his hands over the invisible wrinkles in his suit jacket. “Good. A little nervous, but… good.”

John nodded, stepping closer. His sharp hazel eyes softened as he studied his son, and after a beat, he shook his head with a quiet chuckle.

“You know,” John started, rubbing a hand through his thickening beard, there was more and more grey beginning to run through it now, “I knew she was the one the moment you brought her home.”

Dean huffed a little shocked. He never thought his father paid much attention to his relationships, unless Dean was asking for advise about something. John had always been the kind of father who seemed absent, out of the loop per se but, if you ever needed him, poof he was there.

“Yeah?”

John smirked. “Damn right. You trailed after that girl like a puppy since the moment you met her.”

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s not true.” It was. But Dean wasn’t about to admit that, he had to keep some dignity at least.

John let out a low laugh, glancing toward Sam, who was already grinning. “Oh, it is. Everyone saw it—hell, you’d look for any excuse to be near her. You’d act like it wasn’t a big deal, but soon as she walked in a room, you lit up like a damn Christmas tree.” He chuckled along with the other men in the room, and then added,

“And if she so much as smiled at another boy?” He blew out a breath, like it was the damnest thing. “You’d sulk for hours.”

Benny let out a laugh, and Cas muttered a “it’s true” whilst Sam and Gabe outright cackled.

Dean huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright, let’s not turn this into roast-the-groom day.”

John’s smile lingered for a moment before he took a breath, his expression growing more serious. “You know, that’s how it was for me with your mom.”

Dean blinked, straightening slightly at the sudden shift in tone.

John nodded. “She had me wrapped around her little finger before I even knew what hit me. Still does.” His voice softened. “Women like that, they keep you on your toes. They challenge you, make you work for it. But, son, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. Nowhere better to be.”

Dean swallowed hard, something thick settling in his chest. He didn’t think he’d ever heard his dad talk about his Mom like that—not in a way that was this raw, this honest.

John held his gaze. “You found something rare, Dean. Something worth everything.” He let out a quiet breath. “I’m proud of you, kid.”

Dean felt his throat tighten, but before he could find the words to respond, John pulled him into a firm hug.

It caught Dean off guard for half a second, but then he exhaled, sinking into it. His dad wasn’t a man of easy affection—not by a long shot—but when he did something like this, it meant something.

And it warmed Dean straight through.

John clapped his back before stepping away, clearing his throat. “Now, let’s get you married.”

Meanwhile...

You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your dress, breathing in deeply as you stood in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at you barely felt real.

The dress was perfect—elegant but effortlessly you. Every delicate detail, every soft fold of fabric. It was another thank you to Jo and her wizardry in dress picking.

Your fingers brushed over the locket resting against your collarbone—the one that had belonged to your mother, the one Dean had returned to you. It was your something old, something borrowed, and as you held it gently, your heart ached with the weight of her absence. But there was comfort in knowing that a part of her was with you today.

Behind you, the room buzzed with excitement as all the ladies in your life gathered.

“Holy shit,” Jo breathed, eyes wide and a little watery as she took you in. 

Charlie joined her, the both of them clinging to each other like proud aunts. 

Jess, ever the romantic, clasped her hands together, beaming. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Mary stepped forward with a warm smile, adjusting your veil with careful hands. Her touch was gentle, but you didn’t miss the slight tremble in her fingers.

“You’re glowing, sweetheart,” she murmured, voice thick with emotion.

She lingered, taking you in with soft eyes. Mary had been like a third mother to you for as long as you could remember—always there with quiet wisdom, unwavering support, and a love that felt just as fierce as if you were her own.

“I’ve watched you grow into this incredible woman,” she continued, blinking back tears. “And I’ve always known—always—that you were meant for my boy. No one else could love him the way you do.” A watery smile pulled at her lips. “And God knows, he needs someone like you.”

Your throat tightened, emotion swelling in your chest.

Mary cupped your cheek, her touch featherlight. “I’m so proud of you. And I know, without a doubt, that you and Dean are going to build something beautiful together.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, squeezing her hand. There was a nervous energy thrumming beneath your skin, but it wasn’t the bad kind—it was the kind that came with knowing something life-changing was about to happen.

Then, a soft knock on the door.

Ellen and Bobby stepped inside, and the moment Ellen saw you, she gasped. Her expression softened as she reached for your hands.

"You look beautiful, baby." Her voice wavered just slightly, and when you saw the glisten in her eyes, it nearly broke you.

Ellen Harvelle never cried.

But today, she did.

"You always were a handful," she teased, blinking rapidly as if to stop herself from full-on sobbing. "But damn if I ain’t proud of the woman you’ve become. How grateful I am to be your mother.”

You bit your lip, fighting back the wave of emotion threatening to ruin all of Jess’s hard work on your makeup. You squeezed Ellen’s hands. "I love you, mom."

"I love you too, sweetheart.” She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly, and for a moment, you just let yourself be held.

Jess sniffled. "Damn it, you’re making me cry already!”

A collection of watery chuckles rippled through the room as you pulled back, watching Jess and the other women dab at their eyes. But when Bobby stepped forward, the laughter faded, replaced by something heavier.

He looked at you, and for the first time in your life, you saw him struggle for words.

“Ah, kid…” Bobby murmured, voice thick as he took you in. “Your mom… she’d be so damn proud of ya.”

Your throat tightened instantly, tears pricking your eyes for the millionth time that morning. You pointed at him warningly. “Nope. Don’t you do that. Do you know how long this took?” You gestured to your face in emphasis.

A chuckle rumbled from Bobby’s chest, but the warmth in his eyes didn’t fade. He stepped closer, squeezing your hand.

“I mean it. You’re gonna be the best thing that ever happened to that idjit. Not that he don’t already know it.”

A watery laugh bubbled from your lips. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bobby cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “Now, uh… before we go, I just need to make sure you’re sure about this. ‘Cause once you marry into that family, there’s no gettin’ out."

“It’s true.” Mary added with a shrug and a chuckle.

You smirked. "Well, damn. And here I was thinking I could just return him if I changed my mind."

Bobby snorted as everyone else laughed. "You’re stuck with him, sweetheart." He sighed, squeezing your shoulder. "But I gotta say… I don’t think he’d ever let you go, even if you tried."

Your heart clenched, warmth spreading through your chest, because you believed so too.

"You ready?"

You took a deep breath, exhaling slowly and then—

“More than ever.”

The first notes of Canon in D drifted through the air, soft yet powerful, carrying with them the weight of the moment. The murmur of the guests faded, the world narrowing to the centre aisle where one by one, your loved ones took their places.

Sam stood tall at Dean’s side, ever the loyal brother and best man, while your bridesmaids passed Dean with knowing grins. He barely registered them, too caught up in the pounding of his own heart, in the way his fingers curled and uncurled at his sides, in the anticipation buzzing in his veins.

And then—

The doors at the end of the aisle opened.

Dean sucked in a sharp breath.

There you were.

The world fell away, dissolving into a blur of nothingness. His vision narrowed, locking onto you as you stepped forward, arm looped through Bobby’s. Sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating you like something out of a dream—his dream. And damn, if he didn’t feel like the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

You were stunning, but more than that, you were you. The same girl who had been his best friend for more than a decade, who had driven him crazy and made him laugh harder than anyone. The same woman he had spent late nights with on the couch, teasing and pushing each other, pretending you weren’t falling long before either of you admitted it. You were the one who knew him better than he knew himself, who had stood by him through every fight, every high, every low.

And now, here you were, walking toward him, about to be his forever.

His throat tightened. His chest ached with the sheer force of everything he felt. And it took him a second to realise—damn it, he was actually crying.

Bobby’s grip on your arm was steady, though Dean didn’t miss the way the older man’s fingers clenched just slightly, like he was holding on for one last moment. Bobby had been your rock, your father in every way that mattered, and today, he was giving you away.

When you reached the altar, Bobby turned to Dean, meeting his gaze with the kind of silent understanding only a father figure could give. His eyes softened, but there was steel beneath them—a warning, a promise.

"You take care of her, ya hear me?"

Dean swallowed hard, nodding with confidence as he told him, “always.”

Bobby gave your hand one last squeeze before placing it in Dean’s, stepping back with a small, gruff sniff.

The warmth of your touch sent a shiver up his spine, grounding him, steadying him.

You looked up at him as you stepped up to the alter, eyes shimmering, lips curving into a small, breathless smile. “Hi.”

Dean let out a quiet, shaky laugh, shaking his head as he drank you in. “My god, you’re beautiful.”

Emotion swelled in your chest, thick and overwhelming, and as you stared into his eyes. Those same green eyes that had been home for as long as you could remember. You knew, without a doubt, that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

Every step that had led you here—every late-night conversation, every argument, every kiss, every stolen moment—had been leading to this.

To forever.

The reception was already in full swing, the room buzzing with laughter and clinking glasses, but everything quieted when Gabe stood, a smirk already tugging at his lips as he raised his champagne flute.

"Alright, folks, settle in," he started, flashing a wink at you before glancing at Dean. "Now, I had a whole touching, sentimental speech planned—real tearjerker, would’ve had you all sobbing into your drinks—but then I thought… nah, let’s tell the truth instead."

A ripple of laughter swept through the crowd, Dean shaking his head while you rolled your eyes fondly.

"This story? This epic love story? It didn’t start with a grand romantic gesture, or some movie-worthy meet-cute. Nope. It started… with a dream." Gabe let the words settle before arching a brow. "And not in the chase-your-dreams kinda way—though, to be fair, there was some chasing involved."

Laughter rippled through the room, Dean groaning as he dropped his head into his hand.

"Yeah, yeah, we all know what I mean," Gabe continued smugly, clearly enjoying himself. "But let’s be real, this was always inevitable. It was clear as day these two were made for one another, the rest of us were just waiting for them to catch up. And when they finally did? Well, let’s just say… history was made. And, in some small way, I’d like to think I played a part in that. Y’know, a guiding hand. A little nudge. A subtle push toward the right direction."

Dean snorted. "Subtle, my ass."

Gabe ignored him, raising his glass higher. "So, here’s to them—two people who took their sweet time figuring it out, but who got it right in the end. To love, to laughter, and to the two luckiest people in the world."

The room filled with cheers and the clinking of glasses, and you turned to Dean, shaking your head.

"You still sure we shouldn’t have revoked his speech privileges?" you teased, despite the tears in your eyes.

Dean chuckled, pulling you closer. "Nah, he’s an ass, but he’s our ass.” You hummed in agreement and allowed Dean to pull you in for a sweet kiss. 

Gabe clinked his fork against his glass again, clearing his throat dramatically. "Alright, lovebirds, enough of the mushy stuff, before you make us all sick. Let’s get to the part we’ve been waiting for." He shot a wink your way before grinning at Dean.

"Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, it’s time for the bride and groom’s first dance!"

Another round of cheers erupted as Gabe lifted his glass in your direction, smirking. "Try not to step on her feet, Winchester."

Dean rolled his eyes as he stood, but then grinned down at you, taking your hand and guiding you toward the dance floor. Your heart pounded—not from nerves, but from the sheer overwhelming happiness swelling in your chest.

Then, the unmistakable opening chords of Ramble On filled the space.

You blinked, then let out a surprised laugh, shaking your head as you glanced up at him. "Seriously?"

Dean smirked, pulling you in close. "What? You really thought I’d let our song be anything else?"

You melted into him as he wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting warm and steady on your waist. The world faded, leaving just the two of you swaying together as Plant’s voice crooned through the speakers.

It was perfect.

From childhood best friends to navigating the tangled mess of emotions that came with your so-called arrangement. The night you finally admitted the truth—that you had always loved him. And whats more, so had he. You’d both been naive idiots thinking you could be anything other than this.

A year later, Dean had proposed.

He had done it under the stars in your father’s scrapyard, the place that had always been special to you as a kid, where you had felt closest to your mom. He had decorated it with fairy lights, roses, the whole nine yards, and when he dropped to one knee, looking at you like you hung the damn stars, you hadn’t even let him finish his speech before tackling him to the ground with your answer.

And now, here you were.

Your matching wedding bands, new but already familiar, warm against your skin.

Your arms around him, your heart pressed to his, exactly where you were always meant to be.

Dean pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, swaying with you in time to the music, his voice low as he murmured, "Took us long enough, huh?"

You smiled, tightening your hold on him. "Yeah," you whispered. "But we got here."

The song carried on, and as the tempo picked up, you felt Dean shift against you. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, "You ready to really do this?"

Before you could ask what he meant, he pulled back, a devilish grin spreading across his face just as the beat kicked in. With a playful tug, he spun you out, making you laugh in surprise, and when he pulled you back, he didn’t slow down.

The two of you let loose.

Gone was the slow, tender sway. Instead, Dean twirled you, moving with an effortless ease that made your heart race for an entirely different reason. You chuckled, shaking your head at the fact Ramble on was your first dance song, but damn if it wasn’t so him—so you.

When the lyrics hit, Dean pointed straight at you, his voice loud and clear as he sang along, "I'm goin' 'round the world, I gotta find my girl—"

You didn’t miss a beat. Grinning, you sang right back, "I've been this way ten years to the day—"

The crowd erupted into cheers, the energy crackling through the room like wildfire. One by one, your friends and family got swept up in it—feet tapping, hands clapping, laughter spilling from every corner.

Charlie and Jo grabbed each other, twirling dramatically before rocking out to the familiar riffs, their hair flying as they head-banged in sync. Sam was pulled in by Jess, who grinned up at him with that determined look he never could resist.

Even Bobby, usually content to watch from the sidelines, let out a gruff chuckle before grabbing Ellen’s hand, the two of them stepping onto the dance floor like they’d been waiting for an excuse.

And then there was Gabe—fully committing to the moment, arms flailing, air-guitaring like his life depended on it. The sheer ridiculousness had you dissolving into laughter as you twirled in Dean’s arms, breathless, giddy, caught up in the rush of it all.

Your friends and family surrounded you, the circle growing tighter as the song surged on. Twirling, jumping, shouting the lyrics like you were at the best damn concert of your lives. It was wild. Chaotic. Perfect.

And through it all, Dean never let go of you.

No matter how much he moved, how hard he laughed, how off-key he sang, his hand always found yours. Always drew you back to him. Like he was tethered to you, like you were the one thing in the world he’d never lose sight of.

By the time the song came to an end, you were breathless, cheeks aching from smiling so hard. The room blurred around you, a hum of joy and celebration, but all you could see was him.

Dean pulled you close, his forehead resting against yours, his warm breath fanning across your lips as he panted slightly from the exertion. His green eyes, bright with mischief and something even deeper, locked onto yours.

“I love you, Mrs. Winchester.”

The way he said it—like he was savouring the words, letting them settle into his very bones—you knew he’d never tire of calling you that. And neither would you.

“And I love you, Mr Winchester.”

Dean’s smile was radiant, warmth and adoration shining in his gaze as he cupped your face, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss so soft, so reverent, it stole what little breath you had left. In that moment, with the music fading and the world narrowing to just the two of you, your heart felt impossibly full. Your soul, finally, was whole.

3 weeks later.

The soft sound of waves gently lapping against the shore blended with the distant chirping of tropical birds as the golden morning light seeped through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow across the plush California king-sized bed.

A gentle breeze drifted in from the open window, carrying the scent of salt and sun-kissed sand, ruffling the gauzy fabric ever so slightly. The silky sheets were cool against your bare skin, a stark contrast to the lingering heat of Dean’s body beside you. With a contented sigh, you burrowed deeper, letting the warmth of the moment settle in your bones.

It had been a whirlwind since your wedding three weeks ago—an intoxicating rush of something long overdue. Of love, laughter and celebration with everyone who mattered most, all of which still echoed in your mind. 

Unfortunately, reality had hit fast afterward, with both of you needing to dive back into work almost immediately, your honeymoon put on hold until the vacation days finally kicked in. But now, you were here. Just you and Dean. Together. Alone in paradise.

And what a paradise it was.

Ten glorious, sun-drenched days in the Maldives, tucked away in your own private villa perched over the crystalline water. The white sand stretched like silk beneath your feet, the ocean a dazzling shade of turquoise that shimmered under the endless blue sky. Every morning felt like something out of a dream, like waking up inside a living postcard.

You’d always imagined a warm, beachy destination for your honeymoon—Hawaii, maybe the Florida Keys. Something close, something simple. But you never expected this. Your parents and Dean’s had banded together, insisting you take your first trip as husband and wife international. A wedding gift so extravagant it had left you both stunned, speechless even.

Of course, you knew why you and Dean had initially opted to keep things local.

Your lips twitched at the memory of the exact moment Dean had opened the gift, his expression shifting from excitement to sheer, unfiltered dread. Because the Maldives didn’t just mean a long flight. No, it also meant taking a seaplane to reach the private island resort.

Looking at him now, utterly at peace, snoring softly beside you, his upper body bronzed from days in the sun, freckles scattered across his golden skin like constellations, it was almost impossible to believe this was the same man who damn near lost his shit on both flights. The contrast was almost comical.

Gone was the stiff, panicked man who had sat ramrod straight in his seat, white-knuckling the armrests like his life depended on it. The man who had hissed “This is a terrible idea” every time the plane so much as dipped slightly. The same man who, when faced with turbulence, had squeezed your hand so hard you were genuinely worried about circulation loss. And when the seaplane landed on the water? He’d practically kissed the ground the moment you stepped onto the dock.

Your heart ached in the best way as you thought back on the past week—warm sand between your toes, the taste of tropical cocktails, the lingering press of Dean’s lips against your sun-drenched skin. Late nights filled with soft laughter and slow kisses, tangled sheets as you celebrated your marriage in the best way possible. 

It had taken you both a long time to get here, to this moment, but damn, were you happy.

Unable to resist, you swam through the sheets, moulding yourself against the familiar warmth of Dean’s body. Your fingers trailed across his chest, tracing over the scattered freckles like your own personal game of connect the dots, mapping out the skin you had come to know so intimately. 

Your touch was light, teasing, before finally settling over the hand resting on his stomach, now adorned with the simple silver wedding band that matched the ring on your own finger. A symbol of forever.

Dean stirred as the soft press of your lips ghosted along his shoulder, trailing kisses up the strong column of his neck. A deep breath shuddered through him, his muscles tensing before melting into your touch. He shifted fully onto his back, blinking his tired eyes open, only to be greeted by the most beautiful sight.

The soft glow of morning light behind you, your hair tousled, your eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief.

That damn smirk of yours.

His lips curled up at the edges, but before he could say anything, you leaned in, continuing your path of lazy, unhurried kisses along his jaw, your mouth warm and soft against his skin. His breath caught when your teeth grazed his pulse point, the sharp contrast sending a thrill straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut again at the feeling, his breath coming quicker. 

But then a thought, albeit fleeting, hit him. Why did this feel so familiar? 

However, his grip tightened instinctively on your waist, heat blooming low in his stomach as you suckled at his skin and he pulled you up, crushing his lips to yours in a slow, searing kiss.

Your tongue caressed his, your touch sending fire through his veins, and then your hand slid down his abdomen—fingertips just barely grazing the hard planes of his abdomen, slipping beneath the sheets with agonising slowness.

And that’s when it hit him. Just like Déjà vu.

The dream. 

This was exactly what he had pictured two years ago. The one thing that had shattered every illusion he had about what you were to him, the moment that had forced him to confront the truth—that he wanted you in ways he had refused to acknowledge before. That you were so much more than just his best friend.

It had led to The Arrangement. The realisation. The confession. Everything between then and now had stemmed from that dream.

And now, here you were. Not some figment of his imagination. You were real, you were his wife. 

And this time, there was no rude awakening. No air horn. No sudden jolt back to reality.

Just you and your fingers curling around his hard length in a teasing grip, that had his breath stalling in his throat.

A dream literally come true. And damn, if this wasn’t a full circle moment. 

“Fuck.” Dean huffed, head falling back against the pillows as your touch grew more purposeful, the whole thing made more intense by this little realisation. You tugged him softly, playfully, the pads of your fingers stroking his heated skin with an almost lazy confidence, and Dean let out a long, shuddering exhale.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he groaned, one hand gripping the sheets while the other tangled in your hair. “Feels so good, baby.” You hummed in response, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, then down his throat, your pace never faltering as you worked him, watching the way he came undone beneath you.

Dean’s stomach tensed when you suddenly slid lower, a slow, teasing descent, your mischievous gaze locked onto his as you kissed your way down his chest. He sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body thrumming with anticipation as your lips trailed lower.

“Shit,” he rasped as you reached his lower abdomen, your teeth grazing over the sensitive dip of his hip. His cock twitched in your grip, thick and pulsing with need, and you smiled against his skin, amused at just how wrecked he already was.

“You okay there, handsome?” you teased, your voice warm and sweet, a sharp contrast to the absolute sin in your eyes.

Dean let out a strangled chuckle, shaking his head. “You know what you’re doin’.” 

“Mm. Maybe.” Your fingers tightened around him, stroking him once, twice, before your tongue darted out to tease the tip, swiping across the leaking head in one slow, torturous lick.

Dean’s hips bucked on instinct, a wrecked groan spilling from his lips. “Fuck—”

And then, without warning, you took him into your mouth, warm and wet and perfect, and his whole world tilted.

“Shit—baby—” His hand fisted in your hair as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, your tongue working him in a way that had his jaw clenching and his abs flexing beneath you.

You were relentless, sucking him down with slow, deliberate drags, your eyes locked onto his the entire time, like you wanted to watch him fall apart. And he was—fuck, he was unraveling at the seams, barely holding onto control. 

“You’re too good at this,” he rasped, his fingers tightening their grip in your hair. “So goddamn good. Fuck—gonna make me—”

But before he could lose himself completely, he forced himself to move, a growl ripping from his throat as he reached down and hauled you back up, capturing your mouth in a desperate, heated kiss.

“Not yet,” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick and rough, still breathless. “Wanna taste you, sweetheart.”

And then, in one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you, his lips trailing down your body, kissing, worshiping, taking his time to appreciate every inch of you.

His hands spread across your thighs, parting them, his breath hot against your skin as he settled between them. His mouth found your inner thigh first, teasing, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh just to hear the way your breath hitched.

“Dean,” you whimpered, your hips shifting beneath him.

He smirked, dragging his lips up, and up, until he was right where you needed him. “Relax, sweetheart.” His voice was low, rough, filled with promise. “Lemme take my time with you.”

And he did.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss against your clit before dragging his tongue through your folds, slow and deliberate, savouring you, his hands gripping your hips as he pinned you down, determined to make you feel everything.

You gasped, your fingers threading into his hair, your back arching off the bed as he worked you open with his mouth—licking, sucking, teasing, his tongue flicking against your most sensitive spot until you were trembling beneath him.

“Dean—”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured against you, his voice thick with hunger, dark with raw need. “Let me hear you.”

And so you did.

You didn’t hold back.

You cried out as two thick fingers slid deep into your dripping cunt, curling just right—hitting that devastatingly perfect spot he had long since memorised, learned by heart just to ruin you over and over again. Your back arched, muscles clenching as he pumped them in and out, each stroke dragging a fresh moan from your lips.

His mouth came away from you, slick with your arousal, his focus now solely on his hand as he fucked you with his fingers, determined, relentless. His wrist flexed, his pace quickening, the wet, obscene sounds filling the room.

Your thighs trembled violently, your body caught between the unbearable pleasure and the overwhelming pressure coiling deep in your core, rising fast, too fast.

“I know, baby,” Dean groaned, his free hand gripping your thigh, holding you wide open as you writhed, instinctively trying to fight what you knew was coming. “Don’t run from it. Let it happen. Give it to me.”

The raw command in his voice shattered you.

With a strangled cry of his name, your orgasm slammed into you, white-hot, electric, tearing through every nerve in your body. Your release poured out of you, soaking his arm, drenching the sheets beneath you. The sheer force of it left you shaking, gasping, completely wrecked beneath him.

And Dean all but growled.

“Jesus Christ,” he rasped, dragging his fingers from your pulsing cunt, watching in fascination as your slick dripped down his wrist. He lifted them to his mouth, keeping his gaze locked onto yours as he sucked them clean, groaning at the taste.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with admiration and something darker, something purely possessive. “Every time… I swear, it just gets better.”

Heat flushed through you, but the shame that once crept in at moments like this was gone.

Dean had stripped it from you, erased it with every moan, every praise, every time he worshipped the way your body responded to him. He loved this. Loved dragging you over the edge so hard, so deep, that you couldn’t hold back. Loved watching you come apart, seeing the proof of how fucking good he made you feel.

And fuck, did he make you feel good.

You swallowed, watching as he smirked, his hand gliding up your trembling thigh, rubbing soothing circles as he took in the mess between your legs like the goddamn masterpiece it was.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he muttered, trailing his fingers through your slick folds, groaning at how sensitive you still were. His cock twitched from where it was trapped against the mattress. “And already dripping for more.”

You bit your lip, eyes half-lidded with need, your body still molten, still buzzing, but the hunger in his gaze sent another sharp pulse of arousal straight to your core.

“C’mere,” you murmured, crooking a finger at him, and Dean obeyed instantly, moving up your body with a predatory grace until he was caging you beneath him, his forearms bracketing either side of your head.

You grabbed the back of his neck, yanking him down for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth, desperate and messy. You moaned into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his tongue, the way he devoured you without shame. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, tugging him closer, needing him now.

Dean chuckled against your lips, low and husky, cocky as ever, but fuck, he loved you like this—needy, impatient, desperate for him. He rolled his hips, his thick cock gliding through your soaked folds, coating himself in your slick, teasing you both with the friction.

“Dean,” you whined, your nails biting into the firm muscles of his back.

He groaned, his head dropping into the crook of your neck. “Goddamn, baby—”

You whimpered as the head of his cock caught at your entrance, your whole body arching, pulsing, silently pleading.

“Baby, please,” you breathed into his ear, your voice drenched in pure want.

And fuck—Dean couldn’t deny you anything when you begged like that.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he tilted his hips and pushed in, inch by glorious inch, stretching you open, filling you to the brim.

A guttural groan ripped from his throat as he bottomed out, buried to the hilt in your tight, throbbing heat. His forearms trembled where they held him up, his jaw clenched as he fought for control, fought against the primal urge to pound into you, to take you the way he needed to.

“Jesus Christ,” he gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. “You’re perfect.”

You gasped, your walls fluttering around him, nails dragging down his back, your body begging for more.

“Fuck me, baby,” you pleaded. “Please—”

And with that, he was gone.

All restraint shattered.

Dean fucked you, deep and unrelenting, hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that had you keening, moaning, gasping his name like a prayer. His hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, sliding up your stomach, palming your breasts, fingers finding your throat, owning you.

He growled against your lips, biting at your bottom one as he pulled back, eyes dark, feral. “This what you needed, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t even form words, just nodded frantically, lost in him, in the overwhelming pleasure he wrung from your body with every deep, punishing thrust.

“Goddamn, you’re so good for me,” he groaned, voice wrecked, his pace growing erratic as he felt you tightening around him, pulling him deeper. “Gonna come for me again, huh? Gonna soak my cock this time?”

You sobbed, your entire body trembling, on the edge of bliss so sharp it made you ache.

Dean reached between you, his fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit, rubbing tight, desperate circles.

That was it.

That was fucking it.

Your climax crashed over you, stealing every last bit of breath from your lungs, and you screamed his name as your walls fluttered around him, squeezing him like a vice, milking him for everything he had.

Dean groaned, long and deep, his hips stuttering, his body locking up as he spilled into you, filling you with everything he had, holding you tight, panting against your sweat-slicked skin.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just lay tangled together, bodies trembling, completely spent.

Dean finally let out a slow, satisfied breath, brushing damp hair from your forehead as he kissed you, slow and deep, nothing but pure devotion in the way his lips moved against yours. 

“God, I love you,” he murmured between kisses, voice hushed and reverent, as if the words themselves weren’t enough to contain the depth of what he felt.

Your heart fluttered, as it always did when he uttered those three words, and your arms around his neck tightened, holding him closer.

“I love you too,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers ghosting over his cheek. His green eyes softened as he leaned into your touch, letting out a contented sigh before turning his head to press a lingering kiss to your palm.

And then a quiet huff left his lips as he dropped his head onto your chest, the weight of him grounding you, comforting in a way you could never quite put into words. Without a second thought, your fingers drifted into his sweat-slicked hair, combing through the damp strands, soothing him as exhaustion slowly pulled you both under.

“I can’t believe this will be our last night here,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice thick with sleep.

You hummed in agreement, a pang of sadness settling in your chest. This place, this little bubble you’d created together, had felt like a dream—one you weren’t quite ready to wake up from.

“Maybe we should just move here,” you murmured playfully, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Quit our jobs and stay forever.”

Dean let out a lazy chuckle, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t tempt me.”

You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, feeling him snuggle closer, his breathing deep and even. Within moments, sleep, once again, claimed you both. 

A couple of hours later, the sharp grumble of your stomachs had dragged you both from your unplanned nap. The two of you groggily peeled yourselves from the tangle of sheets, reluctantly leaving the comfort of your bed to shower and dress. 

The day passed in a slow, blissful haze—lounging on the terrace, nibbling on fresh fruit and pastries, talking about home, about work, about everything and nothing at all.

As the evening approached, you had one last dinner reservation at the resort’s restaurant. Dean opted for a quick dip in your private pool while you got ready, the sound of water rippling as you slipped into a white, flowy sundress, the light fabric brushing against your ankles. You left your hair down, the soft waves cascading naturally over your shoulders—just the way Dean liked it. A touch of mascara, a swipe of lipstick, and you were ready.

“You look beautiful,” Dean’s voice was thick with appreciation as he appeared behind you in the mirror, his reflection stunning—his hair damp, torso bare and glistening with droplets.

You bit your lip, heat pooling in your stomach as he trailed his fingers over your exposed shoulder. Respectfully, he refrained from pulling you flush against him—knowing he’d soak your dress—but he still pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your skin.

Dean winked before stepping back, and with zero shame, dropped his shorts, giving you a perfect view of his delectable peach of an ass. He caught you staring as he looked over his shoulder, and with a cheeky grin gave his own firm cheek a light smack before stepping to the shower.

You were still giggling and shaking your head as you slipped on your sandals.

The restaurant was breathtaking—an open-air dining space set against the endless stretch of ocean, the sky painted in fiery hues of orange and pink as the sun melted into the horizon. Soft lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, casting a golden glow over the wooden tables adorned with crisp white linens and delicate floral arrangements.

The scent of salt and grilled seafood hung in the air, mingling with the distant hum of waves rolling onto the shore and light spoken conversations from the other guests.

Dean pulled out your chair for you before settling into his own across from you, already reaching for the menu with a familiar furrow of his brows.

“You know, we’ve been here all week, and I still don’t know what half this stuff is.” He let out a huff, rubbing a hand over his jaw. The two of you had tried different restaurants around the island, and while the menus varied, the dishes always seemed to push him slightly outside his comfort zone.

You giggled, shaking your head before deciding to take pity on him. “How about the steak?” You leaned over, tapping the menu where the 8oz fillet with sautéed potatoes was listed. “It’s about as close to a burger and fries as you’re gonna get.”

Dean followed your finger, eyes scanning the description with renewed interest before nodding. “Alright, yeah. I can work with that.” He flagged down the waiter, ordering you both a beer along with his steak, while you opted for grilled salmon with fragrant coconut rice.

When the food arrived, Dean eyed his plate warily, poking at the steak as if it might bite back. Clearly not used to the meat un-minced and patty-like. He cut into it, taking a tentative bite, chewing slowly as he mulled over the flavours.

“Well?” you prompted, watching him closely, lips twitching.

Dean let out a low hum of consideration. “It’s… not bad.”

You let out a laugh. “That’s practically a glowing review from you.”

He rolled his eyes, but a smile played on his lips. “Hey, I like what I like.”

Still, he indulged in the experience, even letting you feed him bites from your own plate after some playful coaxing. He’d grumble about it, but the way his eyes flickered with enjoyment every time he took a bite of your dish didn’t go unnoticed.

The night carried on in soft conversation and easy laughter, the warm glow of the lanterns reflecting in his eyes. And through it all, his gaze never strayed far from you—watching, adoring, committing this last night to memory.

Back in your villa, the island's natural warmth was thick in your hut with the scent of salt and jasmine as you pushed open the patio doors. Behind you, a familiar melody drifted through the space—the soft, unmistakable chords of Your Song filling the air as Dean messed with the vinyl player. The resort seemed to be a big fan of Elton, you'd noticed.

You smiled at the song choice, turning just as he held out a hand, a boyish grin tugging at his lips.

“Dance with me?”

Your heart melted, and without hesitation, you slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you close. His hands settled at your waist, yours looping around his neck, and he swayed you both to the slow rhythm. His chin rested atop your head, his fingers tracing lazy, absent patterns along the small of your back.

The gentle hum of Elton John’s voice wrapped around you both, the moment steeped in quiet affection.

“I hope you don’t mind, that I put down into words…” Dean sang along to the chorus, his voice soft and deep, trailing off as he smiled down at you.

“How wonderful life is, while you’re in the world,” he finished, his gaze holding yours, warm and full of something that made your chest ache.

Just as you rose on your tiptoes, he wasted no time meeting you halfway, capturing your lips in a kiss—slow and deep. The warmth of his body, the press of his hands against you, the way he kissed you—it all built into something deeper, something more desperate.

But then—

A sharp pang shot through your stomach.

You froze, your breath hitching. Then, it twisted, turned, and a wave of nausea slammed into you so suddenly, you barely had time to shove Dean back before sprinting to the bathroom.

“Shit—sweetheart?”

Dean was at your side in an instant, gathering your hair as you lurched over the toilet, emptying your stomach. His warm hand rubbed slow, soothing circles over your back, his voice laced with concern.

“Do you think it was the food?” he asked, frowning.

You let out a weak breath, wiping your mouth. “Maybe,” you murmured, though doubt crept in. If it was the food, wouldn’t Dean be sick too? He had shared bites of your meal, after all. However, another wave of nausea hit you and had you hugging the toilet bowl once more. 

You spent the rest of the night curled on the cool tile floor, Dean refusing to leave your side. He wiped your clammy forehead, whispered reassurances, cradled you against him when you finally had nothing left to give.

By the time the early morning light filtered through the windows, you were drained, barely able to crawl into bed.

When you woke a few hours later, your body was still heavy with fatigue, your stomach uneasy, but you managed to push through, packing sluggishly as Dean went to check out.

You were in the bathroom, collecting your toiletries, when your gaze landed on something that made your breath hitch.

Your box of tampons.

Unopened.

A strange, uneasy feeling settled in your chest as you stared at it. Slowly, you did the math in your head, counting back the days, trying to recall the last time you’d needed them.

Two weeks late.

Your stomach flipped—not from nausea this time, but from something far more terrifying.

No. No, it was impossible.

You were on the pill. You took it religiously.

But they aren’t always foolproof, your annoying voice of reason argued.

A sharp breath left you as you stared at the box, heart hammering in your chest. However, a thought hit you. You remembered finding it on your first night here. 

Rummaging through your toiletry bag, you exhaled in relief when your fingers brushed against it. A pregnancy test. One Charlie had slipped in as a joke—a homage to her annual Twilight binge—thinking she was hilarious. And right now? You were thanking her ridiculous sense of humour.

“Right. You’re just being irrational,” you whispered, trying to calm yourself. “You just ate something bad and your body rejected it. It’ll be negative and you’ll feel real stupid for freaking out over nothing.”

Your fingers fumbled with the packaging as you ripped it open, barely noticing the way your hands shook. Luckily, you needed to pee anyway, and with a deep, steadying breath, you settled onto the toilet, slipping the stick between your legs.

When Dean returned, the sight of your half-packed suitcase made his stomach tighten. You weren’t in the main room where he’d left you.

Had you gotten sick again?

The thought unsettled him. He’d spent the entire walk back hoping last night had been a fluke—that you wouldn’t suddenly take a turn for the worse, forcing him to figure out where the hell the nearest hospital was on this island.

You looked better this morning. Tired and a little pale, but no vomiting. No fever. That had been enough to ease his nerves—until now.

Then, he saw the bathroom door slightly ajar.

Quietly, he stepped forward, pushing it open. You were sitting on the edge of the bathtub, head down, shoulders tense.

“Hey, is everything o—” His words died in his throat when his gaze landed on the object grasped tightly in your hands. A little white stick.

His heart spiked.

At the sound of his voice, you looked up, eyes wide and alarmed, not easing his nerves at all. 

“Dean,” your voice wavered, barely above a whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

AN: Now... I have a confession. I had originally ended this at the wedding, but inspiration struck. And maybe stubbornness to finish up with these two. So the honeymoon was added and thus the premise to... *drum roll*... The Predicament. A sequel series that will follow Dean and the reader becoming parents. That's right! This isn't the last of this pair. 🤪 Also want thank you all so much for reading and sticking with me throughout this series! I hope you're all excited for another adventure with these two! 💙

Dean Winchester/Series Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse @impala67stellawinchester @bonbonnie88 @youroldfashioned @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes @rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

[russo-woso]

Wimbledon || Leah Williamson

Based on this Request here. Thank you anon for sending it in :)

First of all, I don’t know anything about tennis or Wimbledon so this was a guess. Hopefully it works like this.

Warning smut, cunnilingus, semi-public sex, top!leah

Summary Leah rewards you after you win Wimbledon

Tennis had always been your life.

Your mum and her sisters had grown up playing tennis, and so you were bound to play it too.

Being the only daughter, niece and granddaughter, it was up to you to continue their legacy.

And that’s what you did.

You collapsed to the floor in happiness as the ball hit your racket for the final time.

After weeks of going through knockout stages, you had won.

After years of injuries and constant hard work, you had won.

Winning Wimbledon had only ever been your dream since the age of four, and here you were collecting the trophy from princess Kate.

Lifting the trophy up in the air, your eyes connected with your family, tears streaming down their faces, but there was another person who looked even more prouder.

Your fiancé, Leah, was sat next to your mum, smiling through the tears that welled in her eyes.

You blew her a kiss, Leah immediately blowing one back.

Once shaking hands with everyone, you made your way back to your designated changing room where you were met with Leah.

Leah had her arms open, waiting for you to jump in them.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” She mumbled in your hair, placing you back on the ground before putting her lips on yours. “Listen, your family wants to go out for dinner and they’ve reserved the table for 5:30 so you’ve got just under an hour to get ready.”

“Okay, perfect. God, I can’t believe I just won Wimbledon. I’ve dreamed of winning it since I was four, Le.” You tell her and once again, she envelops you in a hug.

“I know, pretty girl and I am so proud of you.” You connected your lips with Leah’s, the kiss becoming passionate very quickly.

“Here’s the star girl. Well done hunny.” Your mum walked through the door, you and Leah separating very quickly.

“Thanks mum. It’s all thank to you that I’m here today. Thank you.” You said, hugging her.

“It’s all you, darling. You’re here today because you worked for it. Now hurry up, you two stop kissing and actually get changed. I’m not having us be late for our reservation.”

————————

“Le, stop it.” You whisper to her, removing her curious hand from your thigh.

“Come on, pretty girl, I’m just resting my hand there.” Leah responded, putting her hand on the original place it was in before it started travelling.

You looked up and tried to join the conversation but was soon distracting by Leah’s lingering fingers travelling up your thigh.

“I — umm — Do you mind if I take a minute? Le, come with.” You stuttered, stumbling out of your chair, before practically dragging Leah to the toilets. “What’s up with—” You began asking Leah but you were cut off with her lips on yours.

“I just wanna show you how proud I am.” Leah said, separating your lips from hers, reconnecting them to your jaw seconds later.

You whined as Leah nipped at your neck, marking it gently and leaving light red marks.

“We’re gonna have to be quick, love, okay? Be quiet.”

Leah’s hands travelled down your body before reaching up your dress.

“Le, please. Please don’t tease.” You whined into her shoulder, resting your head on it.

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t.”

You felt Leah’s hand touch your clit and your knees buckled from beneath you, luckily Leah held you up.

“Good girl, keep quiet.” Leah said, circling your clit at a set pace.

“Oh god - Le, it feels so good.”

“I know it does baby, but keep quiet.”

“I don’t think I can, le.” You managed to mumble into Leah’s shoulder as moans escaped your mouth.

“Lift your head up.” Leah commanded and you obeyed, meeting Leah’s eyes.

Within seconds, Leah’s lips were on yours, Leah swallowing your moans.

“I’m close, le. I’m so close. Oh god - I’m gonna cum.”

You took ahold of Leah’s neck, pulling her into you so your lips were on hers, Leah swallowing all your orgasmic moans.

“I love you so much.” You told Leah, separating your lips.

“I love you too, pretty girl. We’ll continue this when we get home, okay? I’m gonna make you know how proud I am.” Leah stated, pressing her lips on your head as she helped you gain your balance on the floor.

“Y/N, Leah, are you in there?” You heard your mums voice say through the toilet door.

“Umm, yes mum, we’ll be out in a minute.” You said, stuttering some of your words.

“We’ll try leave early. I’ll come up with an excuse.” Leah told you with a smirk, opening the door and putting her hand in yours.

It was going to be a sinful night.

Requests are open :)

[navybrat817]

The Dad Diaries: Welcome Home

Pairing: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky reflects on the first night with his son home and puts his thoughts to paper.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Fluff, reflecting, first time dad, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a dad, okay?).

A/N: Welcome to The Dad Diaries! This AU will focus on Bucky and his relationship with his son (and you!) ❤️ Thanks to the beautiful @whisperlullaby for giving this intro a look and assuring me it wasn't garbage, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared intently at the open blank journal that sat in the middle of his office desk. He had picked up the pen a few minutes ago, but hadn’t written a single word. Why did he feel stuck? Better yet, what was he thinking by doing this? Reading often came easy to him, but writing? That was something else entirely.

It was also something he wanted to do.

He ran a hand over his face with a sigh and wondered if he should call it a night, crawl into bed with you, and try tomorrow. No, he didn’t want to push it off before he even began. Glancing at the monitor, he heard your voice in his head, a memory of something you told him in the early stages of dating:

The best writing comes from the heart. Write what you and your heart love because no one knows that story better than you.

Bucky had plenty of stories to tell. How he became a hero and a good man after years of pain and darkness. Or how he fell in love with you and became your husband.

And his newest adventure of becoming a father.

He wasn’t sure how to be a dad yet, but he knew he loved his son. That was more than enough to start. And with a smile tugging at his lips, he put the pen to paper.

Hey, Nugget,

My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Most people call me Bucky. Your mom calls me her husband and I’m the luckiest man in the world for that, especially since she gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for: you.

Your name is James, too. Your mom doesn't know if we’ll call you Jamie or JJ, but I have a feeling you'll hear a bit of both. And one day, I’ll get to hear you call me Dad. Or Dada or Daddy or Papa.

Whatever makes you happy.

He paused in his writing when he thought he heard something on the monitor. His eyes flickered to the screen again and he breathed a little easier when he saw that his baby was still sleeping soundly in the middle of the crib. It wouldn’t stop him from checking on him later, just to be on the safe side.

I’m so glad you’re home. In fact, tonight is your first night in the nursery. I hope you like it here. To quote Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A house is made with walls and beams: a home is built with love and dreams.”

Yeah, your old man likes to read. Maybe you will, too. I even have an original copy of The Hobbit and would love to give it to you when you're older.

Books lined the far wall of Bucky’s office, many of them worn from the amount of times he read them. He made sure Jamie’s room had a reading nook, too. It was one of the only things he asked for when the two of you designed the nursery.

I hope you get enough sleep tonight. Your mom, too. You both did great at the hospital and deserve all the rest you can get.

Would you believe me if I said I was a nervous wreck when I brought your mom in, but tried not to let it show? People call me strong, but I don’t think I ever witnessed true strength until I saw how steady of a rock she was. She blew me away, which didn't surprise me. She amazes me every day.

Hearing your first cry stopped my heart and brought tears of joy to my eyes. After nine months of waiting and talking to your mom’s stomach, you were finally here. And seeing her hold you made me fall in love all over again.

Sorry if that sounds sappy, but it’s true. She looked right at me with happy tears in her eyes and said, “Bucky, look! Look at what we made! It's our little Nugget!” and my heart swelled. She insisted on calling you that and it rubbed off on me. Believe me when I say that you are the luckiest baby in the world to have the mother that you do.

He stopped writing again to glance at his wedding band, smiling all over again. He thought your love filled his heart before, but it overflowed now. It warmed him like nothing else ever could.

You’re probably wondering why I’m writing this since a lot of time will pass by the time you read this. Sometimes I may write to remember things I’m afraid I’ll forget. Other days I’ll write to reflect and get the words out when my mind is too loud. But my hope is that this will be a gift to you.

A bond for the two of us.

As you grow, I’ll fill the pages with the memories of you and our family. I’ll tell you about my past and how it shaped me into the man I am today. How your mom and I met and how I somehow convinced her to fall in love with me. And I’ll be sure to tell you about the day she told me we were going to have you and how that news changed my life for the better.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued.

I also plan to fill this with your milestones. Like your first smile. Is it selfish if I hope to see it first? If not me, your mom. She’d love that. Your first step. Being selfish again, but I hope it’s me you walk toward so I can pick you up and tell you how proud I am. And your first word. I hope it’s Mama.

Though I won’t object if you say Dada.

Bucky chuckled as he imagined the look of betrayal on your beautiful face if your son said “Dada” first instead of “Mama”.

I’m sure some days I’ll have more to say than others. If I’m lucky, I can pass on life lessons and words of wisdom. Some days though I may not say the right thing and I know I’ll stumble along the way as I figure out how to be the best dad to you. I say “best” and not “perfect” because perfection doesn’t exist. Except for you and your mom.

The beauty of it is that I don’t have to go it alone. I’ll have your mom by my side to help guide and protect you and to watch you flourish. And my hope is that you know as you look through the pages how much we love you.

Even on days I may not get it right, I’m your dad, you’re my son, and you’ll always have a home with me and a place in my heart.

I’ll write more when I can, Nugget. Until then, I love you.

Always,

Dad

Bucky set the pen down as he exhaled. It wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It was a start. As long as he put his heart into his words, it would shine from the pages.

And he couldn't wait for all the adventures he’d have with his little Nugget.

I hope you lovelies are excited to take this journey with Bucky. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

diary of a leo valdez ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

leo valdez x female!reader backtrack: "pretty u", seventeen inspiration: my desire to have someone love me like this 🥺

day one: the introduction

today I saw the most perfect girl!

okay, I know I say that every time I see a girl, but I think this time is for real. she’s perfect--beautiful and completely out of my league, like usual. I was just walking around camp when she walked by. it was like the actual grass parted to make way for her. she had a golden aura and flower petals were flying around her, illuminating her beauty. I wanted to ask for her number, but then I remembered that demigods aren’t supposed to have phones.

percy noticed me staring at her, I guess. he said something about me taking my shot, that she was single and I might as well try. I don’t know if he was joking or not, but I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I saw her this afternoon. at dinner my fork missed my mouth because I was watching her laugh with her friends. I was sitting on the other side of the pavilion, but I still heard her laugh. it was like twinkling bells.

I asked percy for her name: [name]. the word sounds like magic on my tongue. I’ve gotta talk to her soon. maybe she can drop something and I’ll pick it up for her and she’ll fall in love with me. maybe she’ll trip and I’ll dramatically catch her before she falls. I’ll say something nice--maybe “hey angel, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”--and we’ll fall in love.

okay, I’m getting ahead of myself. the first step to making [name] love me? I’d have to talk to her first.

day two: the failed meeting

leave it to percy to mess up what could’ve been a fairytale romance.

it was better than I could’ve imagined: we were at the arts and crafts station during afternoon free time. I sat as close to [name] as I could, which wasn’t really close because she was sitting with her friends and siblings. a gust of wind blew by--aeolus must’ve liked me today--and a bunch of feathers that [name]’s group was using blew off the table. I jumped out of my seat to pick up a stray feather that had blown to my side of the table. then I tripped over percy’s outstretched foot right in front of everyone.

he swore it wasn’t on purpose. maybe it really wasn’t--percy’s not that big of a jerk--but I was still mad. that was the perfect opportunity to get [name] to notice me. now it’s gone.

day seven: the beginning of something magical

[name] talked to me today!

she didn’t say much--just “excuse me”, because I was blocking her way to the bathroom. but she looked at me! and she smiled a little when she said it!

percy made fun of me relentlessly after that. apparently I had a “dopey smile” on my face. I didn’t even care that he was laughing at me.

this is a new development. she’s finally noticed me.

day twenty: the realization

I think this is serious.

usually after I see a pretty girl, I think about her for a few hours. maybe even a few days if she’s really hot. but now it’s been almost three weeks since I first saw [name], and I still can’t stop thinking about her. she’s talked to me a couple times now, but she still hasn’t paid much attention to me outside of these two-second conversations. she knows my name now--I made sure to tell her--and I’ve made her laugh a few times though, so that’s progress.

I caught myself tapping out her name in morse code today. I do it a lot now, almost as much as I tinker around with my bolts.

day twenty-five: the first big move

I can’t take it anymore.

she’s always on my mind. I can’t think straight when I’m around her. I get this huge smile on my face whenever I think of her. percy’s stopped teasing me; I think he might actually be kind of concerned.

I wrote her a love letter. cheesy, I know, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was originally planning on just going up to her all confident and smoothly ask her out. but when I opened my mouth to hit her with one of my deadly pickup lines, nothing came out. I got more jumpy than usual, and my chest was all warm and fluttery. I was looking at her--gods, her eyes are so pretty--but then it got really hard to keep looking at her, so I looked away. I was painfully aware of myself tinkering with little bolts. she was looking at me with this little smile on her face, as if waiting for me to say something--I had stopped her to talk to her in the first place--but I couldn’t think of what to say. I said something real smart, like “are you the square root of negative one, because you can’t be real.” she looked at me, kinda confused, and I awkwardly slunk away. I’m used to rejection, but this was so much worse.

then I remembered that we’re demigods. [name] probably hadn’t progressed in school to the point where she learned about radicals.

so now here I am with this stupid love letter. I included a little apology for the confusing pickup line. I don’t know how I’ll give it to her. maybe I actually won’t. yeah, that’s probably for the best. this letter is the most serious, most straightforward I’ve been in the last millennia. even though I’m sure by now that she’s a literal angel and probably won’t laugh at me, I don’t want to take any chances. I know what I want to say to her, now it’s just a matter of how I’ll tell her.

day twenty-six: the betrayal (and the win)

I don’t know what in hades’s underpants happened. but [name] got ahold of the letter.

it was percy. it had to have been percy. percy was the only one who knew about my crush.

well, okay, maybe not the only one--apparently everyone in camp knew, even though I hid it really well-- but he’s the only one who’s ever talked to me about it. it had to have been him, there’s no other option.

I’ll have to get him back. but that’ll wait. because [name]--drumroll, please!

she stopped me before breakfast today and asked to talk somewhere in private. I said I’d follow her to the bottom of tartarus. she laughed and led me to the pegasi stables--kind of an odd place, but definitely private.

she was holding the letter in her hands. she said she was really flattered, that my gesture was “really sweet” and nobody had ever done something like this for her. most importantly, she said she liked me too.

now, even though I can be pretty good at talking to girls, I actually don’t have much experience in a relationship--shocking, I know. I’ve had a lot of potential girlfriends before, but nothing’s ever been this serious or gotten this far.

in that moment, I said what might have been the smartest or the dumbest thing in my life: “so are we official now, or do you want me to yell it out to the whole camp?”

she laughed. and next thing I knew, her lips were on my cheek. she pulled away--my face felt hot, and I took a few seconds to make sure I wasn’t actually on fire--and grinned at me. her face was pink too, and she didn’t have makeup on, but she was just about the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

“you’re a dork, leo,” she said. “but you don’t have to tell everyone. I’m pretty sure they already know anyway.”

no idea how that could’ve happened. but it seems like I owe percy jackson a thank you now.

divider by @cafekitsune

taglist: @loveinalocket

[quaranmine]

i have to say the entire thing with blowing up mumbo's door was just. flawlessly executed in both concept and result. grian's like number one personality trait on the hermitcraft server, aside from being a troublemaker, is how much hes obsessed with mumbo. this man is completely deranged about mumbo. he's made it ABUNDANTLY clear he wants that crown just for the sake of having an object that proves he's mumbo's best friend. everyone knows this and has known this since he joined the server.

so to then take this desire, and trick/force grian into setting off a tnt trap that destroys mumbo's FANCY REDSTONE DOOR? oooh. ooohohohoh. it's so good. it immediately lands grian in a position that looks terrible, where he has to justify and explain what actually happened. it's redstone so he obviously can't fix it, unlike if just a portion of the build was blown up. he can't pretend it didn't happen and fix it before mumbo sees, because the tnt was placed where it actually hurts: the redstone design. it interplays perfectly back into the original sin of breaking doc's machine.

it also plays the psychological card--mumbo's only got one best friend, and it's not you. how could it be you? look how you just blew up something he worked so hard on! you can have the crown, but it's your actions that matter, and your greed to prove your friendship to mumbo with the crown has forced you to hurt him instead. it uses grian's desperation (insecurity?) against him to (potentially) drive them further apart. OUCH.

10/10 flawless torture. i'm incredibly pleased.

[ladykailitha]

Yellow Daisies Epilogue Part 1

Yep, you read that right. I had spent so much time researching flowers that I wanted to put all my knowledge into the fic. So originally it was going to be anniversaries 1-10. Now it's being split up into 1-5 and 6-10.

This is 1-5

Also did I make Eddie and Stevie's anniversary my dating anniversary with my husband... maaaaayyybbbbeeee.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

~

~ Epilogue Anniversaries 1-5

~ 1. Paper Roses, Lavender Tipped- Love at First Sight

Eddie was planning out his first dating anniversary. Steve and he decided that they’re anniversary was the sixteenth because they wanted a day separate from Valentine’s Day that was all their own.

They decided that Valentine’s Day was Steve’s purview and their anniversary was Eddie’s.

Eddie had spent the last three months scouring thrift shops and second-hand book stores looking for the worst, beaten, battered, and torn copies of ‘The Hobbit’ he could find. Something that wouldn’t break his heart when he ripped out the pages to paper roses out of them.

Then to practice the dying of the edges of the books to be lavender tipped, he printed out some of Shakespeare sonnets, but especially number twenty. ‘Shall I compare you to a summers day?’ Like that was shit Steve loved to get and Eddie loved to give.

He gathered the ones that turned out the best and the pages from ‘The Hobbit’ that had the most meaning to them. You see, while Eddie was in the hospital with his injuries, Steve would read the book out loud to him when he was too tired to read it himself.

Eddie had a crush on Steve before that, but that’s when he really fell in love with him. That care and devotion that just came so easy for his boyfriend, and it was aimed at him for the first time and it blew his mind.

When he had a dozen of the best lavender tipped paper roses, he gathered them up in a bouquet and put them on the nightstand next to Steve’s side of the bed. Then went to make his love breakfast in bed.

Banana pancakes with chocolate chips. Steve’s favorite.

When Steve woke up to the smell of the pancakes and hot coffee, he looked up at Eddie with the dopey smile Eddie loved so much.

“Hey there, rockstar,” he murmured as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Is all that for me?”

“Sure is!” Eddie said proudly.

They ate breakfast and Steve enjoyed his flowers. He loved reading the little scenes and snippets he could see. Then he proceeded to show Eddie exactly how much he appreciated the flowers. Because yes, it might have not had been love at first sight for either of them, it was the sentiment that mattered.

~ 2. Crocheted Forget-me-nots- Faithful Love, Chivalry

Their second anniversary was a lonely one. Eddie’s band had gotten a record deal about eight months prior and with them already having teems and teems of music, mostly it was recording a bunch of them and deciding on the best ones.

But then came the tour and as much as Steve wanted to, he couldn’t go with. The Party was graduating from high school and one of them had to be there at their graduation. And since Eddie literally couldn’t (he would be in California on stage), it had to be Steve.

Eddie promised to call the day of and hear all about it.

Which is what he did on Valentine’s Day and his anniversary, he called. Steve of course, not the kids.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted softly. “I miss you so much.”

Steve let out a long sigh and then slid to the floor next to the phone in the kitchen. They had been living in their apartment in Indy for about a year and a half, but this was the first time, Steve didn’t have Eddie in it for their anniversary. “Hey there, rockstar. I miss you too.”

“Did you get my package?” Eddie asked nervously. He wanted to make sure it got there in time, but he didn’t know they would have gotten it to him.

“I did,” Steve murmured. He reached up and grabbed one of them off the counter. “Forget-me-nots. As if I could ever forget you.”

“It also means faithful love and chivalry,” Eddie said with the hint of a smile. “The chivalry is for you. You’re my knight in polos and acid washed jeans and I love you so, so much. The faithful love is for me. That I want you to know that no matter how far apart we are, I’m faithful to you and only you, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve twirled the flower between his finger and thumb. “When did you learn to knit or crocket or whatever?”

“Crochet,” Eddie said. “And it was something Brian shoved into my hands when I kept waking them up with my guitar playing. This was a quiet way to do something with my hands. Sorry there are only six of them, I had a lot of failures before those and I could only get that many done before our anniversary.”

“Six is enough, Eddie bear,” Steve whispered. “You’re enough, too. I know you get inside your head sometimes. But just like you’re faithful to me, I’m faithful to you too.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” he replied. “I love you so much and I’m sorry I’m not there this time. It’s like only our second anniversary and I’m not home for it.”

“So make it up to me next year,” Steve said trying to sound upbeat, but not sure he quite made it. “Fly me out to LA and wine and dine me.”

“You’ve got it, sweetheart,” Eddie promised. “Look, I’ve got to go. But I just wanted to make sure you got your package and that you knew I was thinking of you today.”

“I love you, too.”

~ 3. Red Leather Orchids- Desire and Passion

Steve was unpacking his whole life and didn’t even think about what day it was. Eddie had made it big and everyone was moving out to LA. No one thought he was going to stay. Not even Erica. She had hugged him fiercely and made him promise he would be there for her graduation in two years, but she never expected him to stay in town for her.

So Corroded Coffin’s record label hired movers and hauled all of Eddie and Steve’s belongings across the country. And with Eddie and his friends stuck in the studio for long hours, unpacking was left to Steve.

Something he had thrown himself into for the sheer fact of having something to do to burn off steam.

So he was in ratty jeans, a faded t-shirt, and absolutely covered in dust when Eddie came home at noon.

He blinked up at his boyfriend as he tried to comprehend seeing him before eight o’clock at night.

Eddie laughed excitedly at his expression. “I thought you might have forgotten in the hustle and bustle of us moving cross-country, but happy third anniversary, baby.”

Steve’s expression cleared immediately. “Oh shit! I guess this means I forgot Valentine’s Day, too!”

Eddie laughed again. “That’s okay, we’ll just have double the sex today to make up for it!”

Steve laughed and pulled Eddie into his arms to kiss him deeply. Eddie pulled back after a moment, his nose twitching. “Let’s get you into the shower, sweetheart. You’re ode de musk isn’t conducive to happy make outs.”

“Oh?” Steve teased and pulled Eddie back in. He rubbed his dirty face on Eddie’s neck, causing Eddie to squeal.

“Stop it!” Eddie cried, breaking free and dashing for the bathroom.

Steve caught him before he could close the door and kissed him along his jaw. Eddie moaned in delight and pleasure as they quickly stripped themselves of their clothes.

About twenty minutes and two spectacular orgasms later (one for each of them) they were clean, sated, and content on their bed.

Their bedroom was the first thing Steve had setup, the bathroom second.

“I got you two presents this time,” Eddie murmured, Steve wrapped around his waist. “A gag gift and the real one.”

Steve lifted his head and cocked it to the side. “Oh?”

Eddie cleared his throat. “So, I’m not sure if you noticed, but I’ve been basing the flowers I give on what you’re supposed to give for the anniversary present. Paper for your first anniversary, cotton for the second and so on.”

Steve grinned up at him. “That’s cute. Plus the meaning behind the flowers makes for really unique gifts. I love them even more, sunshine.”

Eddie grinned down at him. “So... year three is leather.”

Steve sat up straight and looked him in the eye. “Come again?”

“Oh, one of us certainly will,” Eddie teased. “Especially if we decide to use the gag gift tonight.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively.

He leaned over the bed and pulled out two boxes from underneath it. One was a flower box and the other really didn’t look like much of anything really.

This was the box Eddie handed to him.

Steve opened it up and laughed when he saw what it was. It was leather harness, like for sex. He picked it up and saw that there were little flowers etched into the leather. He looked up at Eddie.

“What are they?”

Eddie’s chin indicated the other box. “Same as those.”

Steve opened the box to see red orchids made of soft, supple leather. “Oh, Eds... they’re beautiful. Fiery passion and desire. Perfect for the leather year.”

“You want to test out the harness?” Eddie asked wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Steve just set the flowers aside and tackled his boyfriend to the mattress. This year was really looking up.

~ 4. Blown Glass Orange Blossoms- Eternal Love, Marriage

They had moved up from the apartment in LA to the town house and it was nicer and there was definitely more space. They had actual furniture and even some art hanging on the wall. Most of it was either Eddie or Will’s but there were some pieces they found in thrift shops and pawn shops that went up on the walls.

A couple of Eddie’s guitars went up there too. It was really starting to look their home. It was everything neither Steve or Eddie had growing up; a place that was filled with love and laughter. Eddie may have had Wayne, but with all the struggles they had keeping the lights on and food in their bellies, there wasn’t much room for laughter. In Steve’s case, with all the space behind those double doors, even with his parents home, if they didn’t have dinner together, they could literally go days with out seeing or even hearing the others. There was no love or laughter there.

But here in this little town house it was filled with both.

This anniversary was the one that Eddie promised to wine and dine him because he couldn’t last year with the move.

They got dressed up to the nines and went to an actual Michelin star restaurant, complete with a formal wine list and fifty year old bottles of Scotch.

Eddie picked Steve up with a box tucked gingerly under one arm. Steve raised an eyebrow at it, but wisely said nothing. Eddie would give them to him when he was ready. He had Steve hold them on the way to the restaurant, only noting that they were very fragile indeed.

So Steve kept them safe the whole way there, carefully cradling them to his chest.

They arrived at the restaurant and were shown their table. The box was set carefully to the side where Eddie kept an eagle eye on the package the whole meal and then when dessert came out did Eddie finally relax.

“Go on,” he said with a smile. “Open it.”

Steve carefully removed the ribbon and opened the lid. Inside were the most beautiful glass blown flowers he had ever seen. There were four. One for each year they had been together. They were bound together with a match white ribbon. Attached to the ribbon was a ring.

Steve looked up at Eddie in amazement. “Eddie...”

“I know we can’t get married legally,” he murmured, taking Steve’s hand in his, “but I want to do a commitment ceremony in front of all our friends and family. Because I’m in it for life, baby. Forever.”

“Yes!” Steve cried. “Yes, of course!”

Eddie gave his hand a squeeze and then worked the ring off the glass stems and gently laid them back down on the cushion. He slid the ring on Steve’s left hand.

“I tried to learn how to blow the glass myself, but it takes longer than a year of learning to make something that intricate,” he murmured.

Steve snorted. “Meaning you were banned from the shop because you were tempted to lick the glass, weren’t you?”

Eddie batted his eyelashes at Steve innocently. “Absolutely not!”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I was banned because I wanted to eat the glass pieces used to make the different patterns on things,” Eddie said with a sniff. “They looked like hard tact candies.” He folded his arms and turned away with a pout.

Steve burst out laughing. “An honest mistake to be sure.”

Eddie turned around and snapped his fingers. “Exactly!”

They finished their dessert and Eddie carefully gathered up the box with the flowers.

“So why the orange blossoms?” Steve asked as they walked out to Eddie’s car.

“The fourth year is fruit and when I saw that orange blossoms were for marriage,” Eddie explained, shyly, “I just knew I had to have them be your fourth year.”

Steve kissed him deeply. “Happy anniversary, rockstar.”

“Happy anniversary, honey.”

~ 5. Wooden Camellias- Constancy and Steadfastness

Moving three times in three years was the absolute limit for Steve. He told Eddie that if they moved again, he was going to have to become art for the new owners, because he would absolutely refuse to budge.

Eddie burst out laughing. “This is the last one for awhile, babe. I promise. But an actual, honest to god mansion! I know you grew up in one, but this ours!”

Steve looked around and sighed. He did like the new place, but he had made a home out of the last one and hated leaving it behind.

But this was about Eddie and his need to feel like he had truly come in the world. From trailer trash to multi-million dollar mansion. The band had really made a name for themselves and tickets were sold out in a lot of the stadiums they would be touring to already.

Of course, Steve would be going with them this time, so that helped.

Steve had given up on Valentine’s Day by their fifth year. It had gotten too commercial and everyone had take over a sweet holiday and turned it into trying to one up the year before. But with their anniversary being on the sixteenth, that meant that they could get reservations to restaurants without making hostesses cry.

This time Eddie was going just cook them a nice meal and watch movies on their big screen TV for a quiet night in.

There were no maids or cooks of any kind. They did hire someone to come in once a week to clean some of the rooms but for the most part it was just them.

The first thing Eddie handed Steve when he came out of their bedroom for dinner was a half dozen pink flowers. They had vases full of the flowers Eddie had gotten him over the years because after the silk yellow daisy all of the flowers Steve had gotten them were made of something else instead of real flowers that would die.

He gently touched a petal. “Oh! They’re wood!”

Eddie grinned up at him. “Yep! They don’t look it, do they?”

Steve shook his head. “They looked like the leather ones.”

“Aren’t they neat?” Eddie asked with a big grin. “I had them made special for you.”

Steve smiled back and put them with the leather orchids. Now that they were side by side, he could see the difference.

“So what flowers are these then?” he asked over his shoulder as he arranged them neatly.

“Camellias.”

Steve stopped his fussy with the flowers and slowly turned around. “Wait, don’t those mean steadfastness and constancy?”

Eddie hummed and nodded. He came over and pulled Steve into a fierce hug. “I know I’ve uprooted us so many times since we got together and this is my promise that this is our forever home unless you want to move. Back to Hawkins. New York. London. The French Rivera. I’ll go wherever you want me to, but this is our home now. No more upgrading for the sake of upgrading. You don’t need that from me, you need constancy. You always have. So this is me making that promise.”

Steve threw his arms around him and held tightly to the back of Eddie’s shirt. “Thank you.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head and held him close as Steve cried, letting go all his fears and insecurities about the new place and their new lives.

They were in it together. Just the way Steve had always dreamed.

~

Epilogue Part 2

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @xxbottlecapx @chaotic-waffle @im-sam-fucking-winchester @stedestielfrattficlover @me-and-my-sloth

[meazalykov]

invisible string theory

lena oberdorf x uswnt!lyon!reader

part one - part two - part three

summary: you're with her now, but you've known of her for longer than that.

warnings: long chapter since I have to split this up into three parts, changing things that happened irl just a tiny bit for the plot of this, google translated language.

the pathway of your career was never simple, or original. 

growing up in the states, you participated in many youth programs. sacrificing a chance at a normal childhood, you took the chance to fulfill your 5-year-old self's dream. 

before you know it, you’d grow up to be the best teenager in the country– in terms of soccer. 

just before going into high-school, you were called up for the usynt for the first time. your parents wanted to see you happy, so you were sent into homeschooling. 

it wasn’t easy leaving public-school. you barely had time for your non-soccer playing friends and eventually– you seemed to forget about them. your friends and teammates on your club and national teams were your new priority. 

breaking records on the national level, it seemed like the youth team was too easy for you. 

and then 2018 came along, when you were 16 years ol–  

well, not yet. just a day before your 16th birthday, in January 2018, you were having your debut on the uswnt. 

against denmark, you were thrown into the game in the 50th minute, not long after halftime. being an attacking midfielder, you were expected to contribute to any attack or opportunity given for you. 

playing with the current world champions intimidated you. your new mentor, christen press, noticed this when your leg and foot tapped against the grass as the both of you waited to get subbed in. 

“hey! you gotta relax.” christen whispers over the crowd, her tone stricter than usual which causes your leg to stop tapping.

a goal came from mallory pugh that same second, so you were distracted for a few seconds celebrating. 

luckily, this gave you enough time to take deep breaths.. something your sports therapist recommended for situations like this. 

“i will, sorry.” you quickly spoke after, moving your tongue to press on the inside of your cheek. you didn’t notice how nervous you could’ve looked from the outside. 

“you don’t need to apologize, you’ll do great i promise!” she patted your upper back a few times before the ref blew the whistle for the subs. 

after the whistle blew in the 93rd minute, you breathed a huge sigh of relief. most of your older teammates ran to your side to congratulate your contributions to the 5-1 win. 

1 goal and one assist on your senior team debut didn’t happen to players everyday, especially to newly 16 year olds.  

a year later, after 16 more caps, happy tears ran out of your eyes when your coach, jill, called you. 

this wasn’t too long after you made your professional club debut for sky blue fc, or what is now referred to as gotham fc. jill let you know that you were going to the world cup!

now being 17 years old, you were the youngest person on the uswnt roster to play in the women's world cup ever. 

being referred to as “baby blue” by the rest of the team, due to your age and the club you play for, they all made an effort to make sure that you had the best experience for your first world cup. 

you attached yourself to christen, megan, alex and tobin when it came down to needing mentors to guide you in france– and your closest friends mallory, tierna, and rose. 

in the football world, you’re treated like an adult. something you struggled with. 

your parents, siblings, and other relatives came to france to support you on your journey– but due to the everyday training (twice a day), media days, strict meal plans, and mental stress before the tournament– you couldn’t see them at all. 

thankfully, they were able to see you along with the rest of the world during the group stages. 

against thailand, you scored a goal with three assists after you were substituted in the 60th minute. the 13-0 win gave you a rush that would last throughout the entire tournament.

you didn’t play against chile, or sweden. sitting on the bench and observing your team was enough for you though– they’ll call you whenever they need you. 

one moment throughout the tournament, there was a four day break between the group stages and the round of 16. 

adidas, the brand you chose to sign for, wanted to do a photoshoot with many internationals who signed their brand. the world cup is the only chance they’ll be able to do this collaboration– and with fifa's approval– over 20 players from different countries are there in a big conference room, ready to get their picture taken. 

standing in the red uswnt kit, you felt intimidated– unaware that you could’ve been the most intimidating. 

unfortunately for you, lindsey and you were the only americans at this photoshoot. you attached yourself to the blonde before she was pulled away by staff. this left you alone sitting on a random chair– at a random table. 

(i know giulia gwinn is signed for nike, but pretend she is signed to adidas for the plot)

“um– hey?” a girl your age– or maybe a bit older– with blonde hair stands in front of you with a confused, yet amused, expression. 

your eyebrows knit together as you respond back with a smile, “hi!” 

before the blonde could say anything, you turn your head to see a table card in the middle of the circle table. its labeled under germany so your eyes widened before you quickly stood up from your chair. 

“oh my goodness i’m sorry– i just found a random seat to sit in because i’m bored.” you talk a bit more than necessary, afraid that you did something disrespectful.

“its totally okay– i’ve been wandering around myself– i’m giulia!” she reaches her hand out, her german accent strong. 

you reach your hand out to meet hers, “i’m y/n. i’m with the us team.” 

giulia smiles, “i know– its hard to not notice the current world champs in the room.” 

you smile, your social anxiety fades as you engage in a conversation with the german footballer. 

“so when are you getting your pictures done?” giulia asks, wanting to continue the conversation with you. 

“oh i had my individuals and duo pictures with horan done earlier– i’m just waiting for the big group photo we have to take in–” you check your apple watch, “20 minutes.” 

“oh same!” giulia says, looking down at your apple watch too, seeing that it's 11:40am. 

“congratulations on getting on top of group B, i watched a little bit of the game during my lunch break yesterday!” you compliment as you cross your arms naturally. 

“thank you! it wasn’t easy.” giulia smiles.

“i feel you.” you relate. 

before you could talk to giulia more, another girl jogs up towards the two of you. 

she is wearing the same german kit as giulia, so you know she is her national teammate. she's taller than you, brunette, and you figure that she has short hair, since her hair was tied up in a small bun. 

the brunette looked very cute, but you brushed that thought aside. you have no idea what her name is and you need to put all of your focus on the world cup. 

“Da bist du ja! Ich habe dich gesucht, aber ich sehe, du hast einen neuen Freund gefunden.“ (There you are! I've been looking for you, but I see you've found a new friend.) the brunette nudges giulia’s shoulder, looking at her before looking at you with curiousity. 

“relax! this is y/n.” giulia waves her hand towards you. 

“hey.” is all you say, smiling at the cute girl. 

“hey.” she responds, smiling with the same cheeky smile you had. 

“wer ist das? sie ist süß” (who is that? she is cute) the brunette says to giulia. you didn’t understand german, but you could tell that she was asking a question through the tone of her voice.

giulia rolls her eyes before giggling, 

“this is y/n, like i told you. she plays for the united states.” giulia responds in english, which you’re grateful for. the girl looked you up and down for a few seconds before talking to giulia in german again.

over giulia’s shoulder, just 20 feet behind her, you see horan waving her hand for you to come to her. you look back at the german girls, hating to cut them off from their conversation. 

“sorry girls but i have to go. it was so nice meeting you giulia!” you quickly hug giulia, and she hugs you back tightly before you walk away. 

ten days later-- when jill called for you to warm up in the final against the netherlands, your legs felt like pencil lead that could’ve snapped in half. 

in the 75th minute, the united states were up by 2. however, the euro champions against you had a point to prove. they weren’t going to let themselves lose the world cup without a fight. 

tobin heath got injured during the semi-finals and doctors made it clear that she couldn’t play the full 90 minutes in the final, so jill made the last decision to call you up. 

every commentator on broadcasts, radio stations, and television networks were wondering why jill was putting you– a seventeen year old with no world cup experience– over people like carli lloyd who's on the bench.

you couldn’t make a single mistake on the pitch. your mind repeated that sentence back to you as you warmed up with sprints and stretches on the sidelines. 

five minutes go by and you’re on the pitch. focusing on the ball, you made beautiful passes to the forwards and midfielders around you.

when your eyes were on the ball, it was distracting from the neverending stadium around you. 

blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment, the 83rd minute comes along. krieger pushes the ball away from a dutch forward and launches the ball in the air towards rose lavelle, the girl who scored the second goal moments before. 

rose, being closed in by dutch defenders, passed the ball behind her to kelley o’hara. kelley saw you were free and there was open space between you and her, so she launched the ball towards you. 

this was your chance. usually, you never tried to seek personal glory. however, something changed when that ball hit your ivory colored cleat.

your feet take the ball towards the goal. veenendaal, the dutch goalkeeper, sets herself up in a ready position as she sees her defenders failing to take the ball from you. 

as you race closer to the goal, the crowd gets louder. the orange defenders close in but you dribble around them effortlessly, a skill uswnt fans love seeing from your younger self. 

an oranje defender hit your body from the left side but it was too late. your foot was angled on the left side of the ball, making the outside of your right foot clear to launch a powerful shot at the goal. 

veenendaal dived a second too late, the ball hit the lower corner of the net, going in for the third goal of the world cup final. 

you didn’t take a moment to process your thoughts before you lifted yourself off of the grass and sprinted towards the corner of the pitch, the same corner megan raphinoe celebrated the first goal at an hour before. 

your hands were spread out wide as tears threatened to pour out of your eyes in joy. the look of happiness that you’ve never felt until now. 

“Y/N L/N THE YOUNGEST GOALSCORER IN A WORLD CUP FINAL!!” commentators screamed on television broadcasts as your teammates, both on and off of the pitch, ran to you and squeezed your adrenaline filled body. 

one month later, you’re back home in new york city. the rush of winning the world cup is still fresh– along with your popularity in the community skyrocketing due to your amazing world cup campaign. 

you missed france already-- a little too much. the bond you’ve had with your uswnt teammates there was indescribable. 

the world cup distracted you from your unfortunate situation at gotham fc too. 

you’re an amazing player and the world cup showed the world that, but your coach at gotham seemed to have an agenda against you. 

at first, you didn’t think so. you arrived at gotham six months ago and started for the first few games in the NWSL season, but it seems like the coach forgot about you after. 

the defensive style of the squad is something you didn’t prefer as well. your play style fit well with an attacking style of play, but your coach didn’t want that. 

after being benched for the big game against san diego wave, you had enough. 

your agent and yourself filled a request in to transfer clubs or go on loan. 

luckily for you, many clubs all over the world wanted the best U17 player. 

when lyon came knocking on your door, you were happy to accept a year long loan deal. 

at first, moving across the atlantic scared you. your older sister, whos much older than you, agreed to live with you until you’re eighteen that january, but you’ll be far away. 

however, lyon is the best club in the world. you would never say no simply because you were “a little uncomfortable” with the move. oh well, football comes with uncomfortable events.  

the uncomfortable events paid off well, since you're a starter for the champions league final against wolfsburg.

twenty minutes in, and you nearly had an opportunity to have the first goal of the final.

the ball was at lucy bronze's feet. you were free to accept her pass and did so. before you could pass the ball up to sommer-- Alex popp knocked you from behind and you were on the grass.

you were okay, and you got up fine afterwards. in fact-- you felt like that knock helped your nerves from playing your first champion's league final at the age of 18.

minutes later, sakina had the ball which prompted you to push forward. ingrid engen from wolfsburg kept her eyes on you, since she knows how fast and precise you were with the ball.

sakina tried to pass the ball up to kumagai, but pernille harder takes the ball. luckily, you were able to side tackle the ball from her. she fell, but you were at the ball so no yellow card was needed.

the noise around you were coaches yelling and players shouting at others in many languages. french, german, swedish, dutch, you name it.

its 2020, and there was no crowd due to covid. the empty chairs made it easy for your voice to echo.

you were close to being fluent in french after living in lyon for the last year, and having sakina and selma as your closest friends, so you opted to yell out to your teammates in that language instead of english--where the whole pitch might understand you.

renard had the ball with no wolfsburg player coming at her, so she took her time deciding on who to pass the ball to.

her pass to buchanan was clean, but svenja huth takes the ball from lucy as she runs to the middle.

svenja tries to pass the ball but it goes back to the defender in navy blue, renard.

the tall defender launches the ball at you running towards the right side. cascarino and you swap places as your feet quickly get inside of the box with the ball.

your left foot shoots the ball but the ball hits off of repohl-- wolfsburg's goalkeeper's, foot. the ball bounces towards le sommer, who shot the ball into the goal at the 25th minute.

le sommer high-fived you and hugged you as you both ran back into your positions. all season at lyon, you've had the highest number of assist-- and the third highest amount of goals.

the french club hopes to buy you from gotham, if there is no issue. your contract does say that there is no buy option involved, but they hope to try.

in the 44th minute, everyone was struggling to get their feet onto the ball. you were standing directly in the middle outside of the box when the ball was bounced back to you.

your left foot, your non-dominant one, launches the ball into the goal at a lightening speed. ingrid and alex popp didn't have the chance to stop you before your teammates screamed in celebration.

"when it fell-- it fell kindly for the american international who scores the second goal for lyon." a commentator speaks to the television audience as you ran to hug majri.

before the end of halftime, as you're ready to head back out onto the pitch, you frowned in realization.

after this fun season, you'll head back to the united states with a coach who wants nothing to do with you. you tried to stay optimistic and think about everything after the final is over, but the end of the season is in 45 minutes plus extra time.

"y/n bébé, garde la tête haute, tu as déjà marqué" (y/n baby, keep your head up, you've already scored) cascarino says as she places her hands on your shoulders. you relax into her hands as your head turns to face her stressed facial expression.

"ce n'est pas ça, je ne veux juste pas te quitter après ça" (that's not it, i just don't want to leave you after this) you whisper. your head leans back onto cascarino's head as she sighs.

"garde espoir, Lyon est content de t'avoir ici. Peut-être trouveront-ils un arrangement avec ton club d'origine" (keep hope, Lyon is happy to have you here. Maybe they will find an arrangement with your original club) cascarino whispers before you both jog out to the pitch.

"maybe.." you whisper to yourself after cascarino jogs away from you.

nothing much happened after halftime started, until alex popp scores a header. you weren't too afraid, since lyon are still up by one, but it's anyones game with thirty minutes left.

subs were made in the sixty-first minute for wolfsburg, so you stand beside cascarino to talk to her. as you look ahead at ewa leaving the pitch, you spot a familiar face entering.

the girl with a determined look jog onto the pitch, and you continue to look at her as she scans around the field. your mind itches, you know you've seen this girl somewhere before.

as she turns around with her back from you, you see 5 oberdorf.

again, you have no idea on who she is. you haven't played against wolfsburg until now, so maybe you played against her national team before? you had no idea.

wolfsburg had more possession this time around. you made a few tackles and won a few duals, but the german club was hungry to score an equalizer.

lucy got the ball away from pernille and passed the ball up to you.

you ran with the ball up the field. you dribbled around ingrid and alex popp effortlessly and your next move was to pass up to le sommer who was free.

all you heard was sakina yell "derrière toi!" (behind you) before you saw someone's leg coming from under you. your first reaction was to jump as the persons leg tripped you onto the grass.

your arms stopped your head from hitting the ground, but you turned to see that it was "oberdorf" who side tackled you.

"that should've been a yellow." you groaned to yourself as you stood up and wiped the grass stains off of your navy blue shorts.

"it was all ball, so no." oberdorf said back. your head quickly turned to her as she smirked at you.

so she's german.. hm. you thought as you recongized the accent.

a few minutes later, as lucy was preparing to throw the ball in-- oberdorf marked you as she stood beside you, not giving you a chance to escape her defense.

"get off of me!" you quietly said when she tried to hold your arm.

"lena, mark her!" ingrid yelled out as you quickly moved back to where lucy might throw.

you were sweaty at this point, but not too tired. a goal before halftime was what you needed to recharge your motivation and energy.

"you aren't getting another goal passed me." oberdorf says quickly. you shake your head as you look at her. the audacity.

"who are you talking to?" you snap.

"you." she smirked.

"well, oberdorf-- if you look at the scoreboard, you guys need another goal to equal us." you say as you both push back with bouhaddi, lyon's goalkeeper, was ready to hit the ball up the pitch.

"my name is lena." she scoffs as you went to saying her last name instead of her first.

"well, lena. its nice to meet you." you look ahead to see bouhaddi's kick.

the ball goes up to cascarino who heads the ball over to kumagai. you ran closer to offer help away from popp, but lena is chasing you.

the japanese decided to kick it back to renard so you move back to your natural spot. oberdorf follows you since she is assigned to mark you.

"what do you mean its nice to meet me? you met me last year." the german comments.

your mind seems to ease at this, you know that you've met her somewhere, and its fortunate that lena knows.

after a few minutes, you couldn't respond to her since the game is heating up. lucy cleared the ball out a few times, which caused a bunch of throw ins to occur.

fridolina rolfo almost scored after kicking from outside of the box, but the ball came straight to you. your body turned quickly, so her shot deflected off of your back and away from a chance of goal.

"where did we meet?" you ask as you end up near her again, waiting to defend the ball away from a free kick for wolfsburg by their goal.

"the adidas photoshoot during the world cup." she quietly says.

your conversations were quiet, since the empty stadium could echo your voice loudly if you were loudly talking.

the free kick was cleared by renard, but being on wolfsburg side of the pitch made you concerned. if lyon kept this up, wolfsburg might equalize.

luckily, in the 87th minute, lyon had a corner kick.

the kick was taken and it landed at your foot. you shot the ball towards the left side of the goal but it deflected off of janssen's foot.

the deflected landed on the back foot of gunnarsdottir and landed in the goal for the third goal of the final.

the group hug was filled with shouts that echoed throughout the stadium. after hugging dottir, cascarino and sakina patted your back as they jumped up and down around you.

"three goal contributions! you are insane." sakina says with her strong French accent, you smile as the end of the game is nearing. wolfsburg will have to pull of a miracle to beat lyon now.

in the last minute of extra time, oberdorf had you marked again. remembering what she said earlier, you smirked as you looked at her tense body position.

"I might've not scored against you, but I did get another assist." you say.

lena looked towards you with a straight face before responding, "ha ha" sarcastically.

when the whistle blows, you run to selma bacha who was on the line ready to be subbed in. she held you tightly as you repeatedly yelled, "we did it! we did it!"

after ellie carpenter hugged you for your one goal and two assists, you saw lena pulling pernille into a quick side hug.

saying that you didn't look at lena differently than all of the other girls would've been a lie. you found her attractive, and you know she knows she's attractive. that smirk wasn't fooling anyone.

"hey, great game lena." you said as you quickly hugged her. playing all 90 minutes made you tired, but you were okay since you're a champion's league winner.

she hugged you back. not to be weird, but you liked the way she smelled.

"thank you. can I have your shirt later?" she asks. you smirk at the idea of her wanting to swap jerseys with you.

"sure, as long as I can have yours." your eyebrows knitted together as you put your hands on her shoulders. lena smiled through her sad eyes and nodded her head at you.

part two here

<3