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mrsfancyferrari · 1 month ago

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Dancing on Ice

Summary: FC43 + “I can’t ice skate amor, I’ll break all my bones.”

Song: Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande

Taglist: @eapunetaestoestadificil

Author’s note: I've never written about ice skating before so bear in mind! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You step onto the glistening surface of the ice, feeling the cool air brush against your cheeks like a gentle whisper. The skating rink is vacant, save for the faint music echoing from the speakers overhead

This is your sanctuary, the place where you feel most alive, where your heart dances in tandem with your movements. You take a deep breath and inhale the smell of fresh ice, the scent of excitement and endless possibilities.

But today isn’t just about you. Today, you want Franco to experience this world—to share a piece of your heart tucked away in every swirl of your skates.

You glance toward the entrance, and there he is: Franco Colapinto, your boyfriend, standing at the threshold, his tall, athletic frame now almost comically awkward as he awkwardly adjusts the ice skates laced around his ankles.

“Why do I feel like a baby giraffe?” he calls out, chuckling nervously.

You can’t help but laugh too, your heart swelling with affection. “You’ll be fine, amor! Just take it one step at a time.”

Franco rolls his eyes, but a smile plays on his lips. “One step at a time? It feels more like one slip at a time,” he says as he takes his first tentative steps onto the ice.

You can see the concentration etched on his face as he clutches at the air to find balance.

“I can’t do this amor, I’ll break all my bones.” he muttered, trying to balance on his wobbly feet.

“You won’t break all your bones, I promise,” you tease, gliding toward him effortlessly.

“Easy for you to say! You have a lifetime of practice,” he replies, his voice a mix of excitement and trepidation. “I can’t even stand up without feeling like I’m about to topple over!”

“C’mon, let’s do it together,” You extend your hand, willing him to take it. You know his tendency to overthink things, to become overly self-critical, and you want to ease that anxiety, even just a little.

Without a moment of hesitation, he takes your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours with a grip that feels warm and reassuring.

The initial moments are filled with a few shaky steps and laughter. Every time Franco wobbles, you can’t help but giggle, your laughter ringing out across the rink.

“See cariño? It’s not so bad!” you say, your voice light with encouragement.

“I can’t tell if I’m moving forward or just inching toward certain doom,” he smiles, his eyes sparkling with a blend of fear and exhilaration.

“You’re doing great! Now, try to relax your knees. Bend them like this.” You demonstrate, your body gliding effortlessly across the ice as if it were your second skin.

He followed your movements with his gaze, a mix of admiration and disbelief etched on his face. You had seen that look before, knew how he loved watching you skate—how it made him forget the world for a moment.

“Are you going to try that jump again?” Franco called out, his voice carrying across the chilly afternoon air. You glanced back at him, a playful smile curling your lips.

“Maybe,” you replied, pushing off the ice, your blades cutting through with a crisp sound. “But only if you promise to catch me if I fall!”

He laughed, a rich sound that warmed the chill around you. “I’ll try to catch you.”

You concentrated, feeling the cool wind against your face as you executed the jump. Time seemed to freeze; with a perfect landing, your heart soared. Cheering, you glided back to him.

“How did I do?” you beamed.

“Like a swan, hermosa!” Franco exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. “I swear, you get better every time.”

His praise made your cheeks flush, and you brushed your hair off your forehead, trying to play it cool. “It’s just practice. You should give it a go sometime.”

“Me? No way!” he chuckled, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’d rather watch you shine.”

You stepped closer, feeling the warmth radiate from him. “You’re not scared, are you? C’mon, I could teach you.”

“Well, I’ll try to look as graceful as you,” he said, his voice light but filled with feigned optimism. “But I’ll probably just end up face-first on the rink.”

“Don’t worry! I’ll be right here to catch you,” you reassured him, enthusiasm coursing through your veins as you took his gloved hand in yours.

You felt the warmth radiating from him, a welcome contrast to the cold around you. Slowly, you pulled him along, watching as he took shaky steps beneath the weight of his own apprehension.

With each stride, the sound of his skates zipping across the ice harmonized beautifully with the gentle melody that enveloped you.

Observing the flicker of determination ignite in his eyes was a joy unlike any other; for a fleeting moment, you could see him beginning to ease into the rhythm.

“You can do this, amor! Just trust yourself!” Your voice was filled with a bubbling laughter that echoed in the spaces between you.

As the fear melted away, joy illuminated his features, and what had once felt like an intimidating vastness transformed into your shared world of warmth.

“Okay, okay, I’m feeling a little bit better!” Franco exclaimed, his smile infectious, making his cheeks flush against the biting cold. “But I still can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Ice skating! Who even likes ice skating?”

“I do!” you replied, a laugh escaping as you effortlessly glided toward him again, your fingers intertwining with his. “Ice skating is like flying, Franco. It’s freedom. It’s beautiful!”

“Flying, you say?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful glimmer in his eyes. “I’m more like a flying squirrel, but sure!”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection and amusement. “Alright, then let’s embrace your inner flying squirrel!”

You pulled him forward, teaching him to lean into the turns, guiding him cautiously along as he found his footing.

The ice was an echoing realm of freedom for you, but it was a whole new world for him. You could sense his insecurity, yet with every few strides, he grew bolder, the apprehension beginning to unfurl.

As you twirled in front of him, he laughed at your playful antics.

"Are you sure you didn’t slip anything into my coffee this morning?" he teased, finally smiling back at you.

“Only a healthy dose of confidence,” you responded mischievously, spinning in place again before extending your arms wide. “Now, try to match my flow.”

“Easier said than done!” he said as he mirrored your movements, wobbly yet resilient. You laughed, trying to pull him closer so he could feel your energy and steadiness.

With each revolution, something clicked within him. Franco’s eyes sparkled with determination now, even as his balance faltered once or twice, his body weaving like a willow in the wind.

You steadied him with a quick squeeze of his hands, never letting go entirely.

“I think I’m getting the hang of it!” he exclaimed, his excitement infectious. “Wait, I actually feel good! Like, really good!”

“See? You’re a natural.” You beamed proudly, your heart racing with joy for him. “Just imagine how smooth you’ll be on race day if you just keep trusting yourself.”

He shot you a playful glare. “Are you trying to turn me into an ice-skating prodigy? Because I’m more into racing, you know?”

“Well, you can be both! Just think about it—Franco, the world’s first professional ice skater and racer!” You had to stifle a laugh as he pretended to ponder that monumental decision.

“Sounds like a lot of work. How about I just stick with being your boyfriend?” he said, his hazel eyes flickering with mischief.

“You’re more than my boyfriend; you’re my partner on and off the ice,” you said genuinely, squeezing his hands tighter for emphasis. “And I’m not letting you go, so you better get used to it.”

As he looked at you, something shifted in the air—a moment suspended beyond ice and skates, creating its own magic. “Thank you,” he replied softly, sincerity shining through his tone. “For believing in me.”

The words settled warmly between you, and as your feet guided you across the surface, you felt connected not just by your hands but by the joy of shared experiences. Franco found his rhythm, those early fears evaporating with each graceful stride.

“Can you feel it?” you prompted as you began spinning, your feet gliding effortlessly. “Can you feel the freedom?”

He spun in place, attempting to emulate you, albeit with less grace. “I’m starting to! But I might need a little more practice!” He laughed, but this time, it was lighter, more joyous.

You couldn’t help your laughter, a melody shared between you. “More practice will come. And hey, if you fall, I promise to catch you,” you teased, your heart swelling with affection.

As you circled each other, the world outside the rink faded, and all that mattered was the two of you. Every worried thought he’d held on to was gently replaced with laughter, joy, and the bright glow of confidence.

Suddenly, Franco lost his balance, his swift attempt to spin faltering, and he stumbled towards you. Without a second thought, you instinctively pulled him close to prevent a fall.

As his weight leans into you, you manage to steady him, the warmth of his body contrasting sharply with the cold chill around you. His hazel eyes staring at you, a small smile dancing on his lips. His brown curls flutter against your cheek, and for a moment, the cold world around you melts away.

“I told you,” you chuckled, your eyes meeting his with warmth, “I wouldn’t let you break anything before your race.”

He smiled, his expression now a mix of gratitude and admiration. “I think I can manage with a little help from my favorite professional.”

Your heart soared at the endearment. “Always,” you promised, your laughter echoing against the ice.

As time passed, he not only found his balance but began to experiment with spins. “Okay, check this out!” he called, determination written all over his face.

His movements were clumsy but earnest. You stood back, watching, heart swelling with pride. “I’m going to try a spin!”

“Just remember to keep your weight in the right place!” you shouted back, excitement bubbling in your chest. Franco seemed to heed your words; he steadied himself, drew a breath, and began to spin.

Your cheers filled the air as he completed the maneuver without stumbling—an almost miraculous feat for a beginner.

“Did you see that?” he exclaimed, eyes sparkling with life. He spun around once more, a little more confident each time.

Encouraged by your enthusiasm, he shouted, “I’m going to try something bigger! A flying spin!”

“Be careful!” you hollered as he gained speed, the adrenaline coursing through both of you. He took a deep breath, launched himself into the air, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed he would soar.

But reality proved unforgiving; Franco missed his landing. Time slowed as you watched, eyes widening in horror, and instinct kicked in. You dashed toward him, desperate to help him regain his balance.

But the moment you reached him, the inevitable happened—you both fell.

The world crashed to silence as you landed on the ice with a thud. The cold bit at your skin, and it took a moment to register what had transpired. You glanced over your shoulder, concern flooding your senses.

Franco had fallen on his back, making a pillow of his body, still clutching you tightly to protect you from the impact.

“Mi amor, are you alright?” he grunted, his face contorted with discomfort.

A wave of dizziness washed over you, but your concern snapped you awake. “I’m okay, I think…” You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you shifted your weight to examine him more closely.

“Are you alright?” Your hands cupped his cheeks, brushing away the ice shavings that clung to his skin.

“Yeah, amor, just a small fall,” he muttered, attempting to smile through the obvious pain, fingers squeezing your hips reassuringly. Even in a moment of chaos, he remained protective.

Your heart ached at the sight of him. “You scared me!” you said, a mixture of love and exasperation in your voice as you detected the underlying wince in his expression. “You should’ve just fallen on the ice instead of trying to catch me!”

“And let my girlfriend get hurt? Not a chance,” he responded, his eyes softening.

Shivers danced down your spine as you felt the warmth of his hands against you, a fleeting moment of tenderness amidst the chaos.

With a grunt, he shifted and sat up, still holding you. “I’m sorry. I thought I could nail it, just like you. You make this look so easy,” he replied, brushing loose strands of hair behind your ears.

“It’s okay, Franco. You did amazing for your first time! I promise, it takes practice,” you assured him, your heart swelling with affection and admiration. “The fact that you even tried a flying spin is impressive!”

“You really think so?” A hint of doubt lingered in his voice, and you could see the way his breath hitched in uncertainty.

“Absolutely! You were fearless,” you said, leaning closer for emphasis. “And I love that about you.”

His gaze fixed on yours, the warmth in his hazel eyes igniting a spark of connection between you. “You’re incredible, you know that?” he said, his tone sincere, laced with admiration. “I want to learn this just to impress you more.”

Your heart danced in rhythm with the flutter of his words.

“You are beyond ridiculous,” you laughed, shaking your head.

With a grunt, he shifted to sit up, still holding onto you. “I’m sorry. I thought I could nail it, just like you. You make this look so easy.” He brushed loose strands of hair behind your ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

You examined his face, searching for any sign of injuries. “You better not be injured,” you said, half-joking and half-serious, concern lacing your words.

“I would do the same again to protect you,” he replied, his voice firm yet soft, almost as if he was convinced of his own capabilities.

“Franco, you can’t,” you said, your hands on his shoulders grounding him. “I don’t want you to get injured.”

Your palms pressed into him, feeling the steady heat of his body beneath the chill in the air, while his hands rubbed slow circles on your waist and leg, an attempt to soothe both of your worries.

“Te amo más que a la vida en sí,” he muttered softly, his forehead resting against yours. I love you more than life itself.

The warmth of his words sent shivers racing down your spine. It was a phrase you adored, an affirmation that always made your heart flutter.

"Yo también te amo, mi amor," you replied, the familiarity of the words wrapping around you like a cozy blanket against the chill of the rink. I love you too, my love.

His eyes sparkled at your reply, and in that moment, you felt that intoxicating rush, like you did when you first started dating two years ago. Your heartbeats were erratic, fluttering like a trapped butterfly.

“Would it be inappropriate to kiss you here?” he asked, his voice teasing yet laced with sincerity as he leaned just a fraction closer, eyes darting between yours and your lips.

“It might raise a few eyebrows,” you replied, feigning seriousness, though your heart was racing in anticipation.

“Like who? Your manager?” he teased, referring to the figure of authority bundled in her coat, observing from the bleachers with a look of bemusement.

Behind her, a few paramedics stood chatty but alert, ready to intervene if needed.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, you’re not wrong about that. But we’ve got all this space and ice, and if we get caught… I’ll never hear the end of it. Not to mention, you’ll probably never want to skate again!”

“Exactly! So, we should make this moment count. The ice is ours!” He leaned in a little more, his intent oh-so-clear now.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks, fighting the laughter and the nerves.

“Franco,” you began, trying to maintain some semblance of decorum, but his gaze was unwavering, inviting, and mischievous.

“Okay, how about this,” he proposed with a cheeky grin. “One kiss, right here, right now. If we get caught, we’ll blame it on the ice, right?”

You chuckled, letting the moment bubble between you two. “You are incorrigible.”

“But you love it,” he beamed, his confidence unwavering.

Before you could answer, he closed the gap. Your lips met softly, and time seemed to stretch, the sound of the world around you fading into a blissful hush.

It was a simple yet electric exchange, and you could feel a thrill racing through you—not just from the kiss, but from the sweetness of the moment.

Just as you pulled away, your manager, Laura, called out, voice slightly panicked, “Is everything alright over there?”

“Perfectly fine!” Franco called back, his voice laced with laughter. The infectious nature of his grin transformed your previously solid focus into giggles as you beamed at each other, your hearts still racing.

You slowly got off Franco's lap, playfully nudging him. “Come on, we need to get back to practice before Laura comes over here.”

As you attempted to pull him up, he made a loud grunt in pain, his expression shifting instantly from playful to concerned. “Ow! Okay, maybe that was a bad idea.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, worry knitting your brows together as he rubbed his back where he'd fallen awkwardly.

He waved a hand dismissively, but you could see the wince in his eyes. “Just a little sore. You know how it is—ice can be a bit unforgiving.”

You knelt down beside him, your heart aching with concern. “Really, amor, that looked like a pretty nasty fall. You shouldn’t brush it off.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said, though the way he shifted his weight suggested it was bothering him more than he let on. “Besides, I’d take a hundred falls to save you.”

You felt warmth spread through your chest at his words. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, fighting back a smile. “You’re not supposed to heroically throw yourself down for me.”

“Maybe I just wanted to showcase my dedication,” he replied with a teasing wink that was all Franco.

He had a tendency to turn serious moments into playful banter, and although part of you was grateful for the levity, another part found it hard to let go of the worry gnawing at you.

“Okay Mr. Dedicated, how about you let me help you up?” you offered with a hint of determination.

“Alright, but only if you promise to take me for hot chocolate afterward,” he retorted, his eyes sparkling with mischief once again.

“Deal!” You reached out your hands, and he grasped them, allowing you to pull him up. Yet, the moment he stood, he grimaced and swayed slightly, the bravado giving way to discomfort.

“Whoa! Steady there!” you laughed, though there was a hint of concern in your laughter.

“I’m good,” he insisted, his voice a mix of confidence and challenge, but you weren’t convinced.

“Franco, you—”

“Seriously, it’s just a bruise; I promise. Let’s keep skating!” He tried to brush off your apprehension, but you could see the effort was taking its toll.

The bright red of his cheeks was testament to both the cold and the strain, and his laughter felt a little too forced to be entirely genuine.

“Okay, but no stunts for a while, alright?” you retorted, crossing your arms playfully but firmly.

The worry you felt for him was overshadowed by your desire to keep the fun spirit alive.

“Only for you, amor,” he winked, and your heart fluttered.

It was moments like these that made you realise how much you adored him—the way he could light up a moment with a single glance, a cheeky joke, or unexpected charm.

Franco completed a few more cautious circles around the rink, but soon enough his bravado waned, and you noticed him retreating to the edge.

You didn’t let him out of your sight, instinctively knowing when he reached that tipping point.

“So how did it feel Franco?” your manager, Laura, asked as you two emerged from the rink shortly afterward, Franco’s eyes glazed with a mix of excitement and fatigue.

“It felt great other than falling,” he joked, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

You shot him a look, a careful mix of adoration and concern. “Can you check to see if he hurt his back?” you asked the paramedics who were on standby, a routine precaution for first-time skaters.

“Amor, I’m fine—” Franco started, but you interjected.

“I’ll know when you’re fine after you get checked,” you stated, lifting your chin defiantly. There was no arguing with you when you were in protective mode.

He sighed, clearly recognising that he wasn’t going to win this one. “Alright then,” he relented, following the paramedics to a quieter corner of the rink.

You hastily removed your skates, glancing back at him occasionally to ensure he was managing.

Inside, a knot of anxiety twisted in your stomach. Nothing mattered more than his wellbeing, but the thought of him being hurt, even just a little, made you feel restless as you trailed after him.

The paramedic studied his back and neck, then carefully lifted the fabric of his shirt to examine the bruising forming there. “You’ve got a herniated disc—it’s when a spinal disc bulges out of shape and irritates a nerve.”

The words landed heavily in the air between you.

For a moment, silence surrounded you as you tried to process the implications. Your heart squeezed in your chest, and you instinctively squeezed Franco’s hand, seeking comfort in the shared warmth.

“Will he recover before his race?” you asked the paramedic, your voice softer than you intended, each word wrapped in concern.

The medic looked up from his notes, his demeanor serious.

“It depends on the severity. Usually, with rest and physical therapy, he can manage a recovery in a few weeks, but we’ll need to monitor the healing closely.”

Franco smiled at you, trying to downplay your concern. “See? Just a couple of weeks, amor. I’ll bounce back!”

“You’d better,” you teased, though your heart wasn’t quite in it.

“Alright, I promise to be more careful,” he said, his sarcasm masking the determination in his voice.

As both of you left the rink together, a new resolve defined your relationship. It was about more than just skating; it was about navigating life’s challenges together.

You wanted Franco to be bold and adventurous, but only within reason.

Days turned into weeks, and you watched as Franco adhered to the medic’s advice, resting as directed while attending physical therapy sessions.

You were by his side each step of the way, from his first hesitant visits to the therapist to his high-paced workouts designed to regain both strength and flexibility.

“You’re going to be okay,” you whispered one evening, as you braided his hair, the two of you sprawled out on the couch watching old films, a stark contrast to the usual frantic energy of your lives.

“Yeah, but I probably should've done just one lap instead of forcing my way into stunts,” he said, laughing lightly. “Now, I’m stuck watching romcoms when all I want to do is skate beside you.”

It warmed your heart to see him smile, even if it was partly strained. “True, but sometimes you need to listen, especially if it’s for your health.”

“Fair enough. And you’re going to be the best skating partner,” he said, leaning closer as his gaze softened. “When I’m back on the ice, I bet I’ll surprise you.”

“You better,” you responded, unable to hide your grin. “Just don’t try to do a backflip until you’ve fully healed. Save the stunts for when you’re ready.”

“Deal,” he chuckled, and the moment swelled with an intimacy that settled into both of you.

As you journeyed through this chapter of life together, the skating rink remained a cornerstone of your relationship.

Franco’s determination fueled your own desires to push limits and explore new heights as partners, both on and off the ice. . . .

Franco Colapinto had just secured a commendable fifth place in today’s race, a result that was met with cheers from his team and fans alike. As he walked towards the media tent, his sweat-soaked face beamed with the remnants of adrenaline.

The rhythm of the crowd faded into a blur as he approached the series of microphones lined up before him, the heavily decorated backdrop emblazoned with the race sponsor's logo looming behind.

"Franco Colapinto! Great race today, fifth place! How are you feeling?" an interviewer asked, holding a microphone towards him, eager for a juicy soundbite.

Franco wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, still catching his breath from the intense competition. “Oh yeah, the car’s pretty solid. Oh, and the halo too, it didn’t move luckily unlike last time,” he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

His last race had been rocky, with his car’s protective halo unexpectedly shifting during a maneuver and causing a momentary panic.

The interviewer, somewhat surprised by the casual mention of such a potentially dangerous situation, continued, “That’s reassuring to hear! You drove impressively today. But you look like you have somewhere else you want to be at.”

There was a note of curiosity in the interviewer’s voice, wading into the waters of personal matters.

Franco paused, the cacophony of reporters and cameras fading momentarily. The corners of his mouth curled up into a genuine smile for the first time since his race.

“Mi Amor is ice skating today, and I want to surprise her before her event ends, so can we be quick?” His voice was light and playful, revealing a side rarely seen behind the steely demeanor of a racer.

The interviewer blinked, momentarily taken aback by his honesty. “Umm, sure! That’s quite sweet of you. How long have you two been together?”

“Just 2 years,” Franco replied, his expression softening as he spoke about his girlfriend. “But it feels like forever. She pushes me to be better, both on and off the track. I never want to miss her performances.”

“Sounds like she’s your biggest supporter!” the interviewer remarked, correctly sensing the warmth in his eyes. “What’s her name?”

“Y/N,” he replied, a touch of pride in his voice. “She’s an amazing skater—blades of ice are her world. I’ve seen her practice, and honestly, it's another level of artistry.”

As he spoke, his excitement was palpable; racing was his profession, but you were his passion outside of those roaring engines.

The interviewer nodded thoughtfully, scribbling notes. “And I bet she’s just as thrilled that you’re here. How does she feel about your racing career?”

“She loves it. She's come to a few races already.” Franco chuckled. “Though sometimes I think she’s more excited about the cars than I am! But she gets nervous, too, which makes me feel protective. I always remind her—I'm not just racing for me, I’m racing for both of us. Every time I step on that grid, I’m thinking of her cheering in the stands.”

“That's really beautiful,” the interviewer commented, glancing at his notes. He could sense the depth of Franco's feelings. “So, what’s next for you after this race?”

“Next, I need to ask her what she thinks about my performance,” Franco said, grinning. “And if I can, I’ll take her out for something nice—dinner, maybe. I owe her that much after all the support she gives me. Winning is great, but knowing that she's proud means the world.”

Before the interviewer could ask his next question, Franco glanced at the clock on the wall of the media tent, concern flickering in his eyes. “You know what? I really need to go now. Thank you for understanding. I hope you enjoy the rest of the day.”

He quickly added, “And maybe next time I’ll bring her along. You can interview both of us!”

The interviewer couldn’t help but smile as he pushed the microphone aside. “Great idea! And best of luck to Y/N in her competition!”

With that, Franco waved as he dashed out of the tent, his mind already spinning with plans of getting to the rink before you finished.

Franco wandered through the bustling media tent, a vibrant bouquet of red and yellow flowers clutched tightly in his hand. The scent of fresh blooms mingled with the more sterile aroma of cameras and microphones, creating an unexpected comfort in the chaotic atmosphere.

His recent achievement—a remarkable fifth place in the race—had almost everyone buzzing, but it was the bright flowers that captured the curiosity of the media around him.

"Franco! Over here!" called a voice from the throng of reporters. A tall man with a press badge darted in front of him, preventing his escape. Franco smiled and adjusted his grip on the flowers, determined to enjoy the moment.

"How does it feel to finish fifth?" the reporter continued, his camera poised for the perfect shot.

Franco grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It feels incredible! I worked so hard for this, and to see it all pay off is just amazing. I was a bit nervous coming into the race, but it turned out to be a day I’ll never forget."

Another reporter chimed in, "What’s the secret behind your performance today?"

Franco chuckled softly. "It’s all about the team. We train together every day, and their support keeps me motivated. We strategised a lot, and I owe it all to them and my race engineer."

As he continued to navigate through the questions—about strategy, training, and future goals—he noticed a hint of impatience creeping into the expressions of the press.

They were all eyeing the bouquet. Finally, one bold journalist broke through the chatter.

"What’s with the flowers, Franco? Are they a good luck charm, or do they signify something else?"

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden focus on the bouquet. “There’s a story behind these!” he said, his face lighting up. "They're for mi amor! I’m going to surprise her after her event today!"

A wave of collective 'aww' erupted from the reporters. He could almost hear the clattering of pens and the clicking of cameras as they captured the moment.

Franco straightened, proud to share a piece of his heart. . . .

The rink glimmered under the bright lights, the cool air buzzing with excitement and nerves as skaters and spectators alike took their places. Your heart raced in sync with the music hauntingly echoing through the arena.

You couldn’t believe you were standing here, only moments away from your final performance in the national skating competition. Just years ago, you had been a bundle of nerves—a small-town girl with a bigger dream—and now, somehow, you’d made it to this coveted spot, a finalist among the best.

“Okay, you’ve got this,” you whispered to yourself, lacing up your skates in front of the mirror.

You could barely focus on your reflection; all you could think about was Franco. You knew he was racing right now, but just before you left for the rink, he’d given you one of his heart-stirring pep talks.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he’d said, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Just remember, it doesn’t matter what place you get. I’m proud of you, whether it’s first, second, or third. Just skate your heart out.”

“Yeah, but I really want to win,” you had replied, stuffing your nerves down.

“Then win for both of us,” he urged, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And no matter what happens in that rink, I’m going to be cheering for you. I promise to pull victory with me if I can!”

His laughter had grounded you, a buoyant wave as he left for his own race. You smiled at the memory, imagining his infectious grin that always made your heart flutter.

The announcer’s voice broke through your reverie. “Next up, we have Miss. Y/N L/N!”

A hush fell over the crowd as you stood up, your heart pounding in rhythm with the applause. You took a deep breath, your lungs filling with chilled air, and began your approach to the rink.

The adrenaline surged as you stepped onto the ice, the coolness beneath your skates sending a thrill coursing through you. You could hear the murmurs of anticipation from the audience, feel their eyes glued to you as you settled into position.

“Come on, Y/N! You can do this!” you mumbled quietly to yourself, your focus sharpening.

You saw Franco's face in your mind, his encouraging spirit radiating from across the space like a bright star in a dark sky.

The music started, enveloping you in its melody like a warm hug. You took your first glide across the ice, letting the rhythm pull you along. Each movement felt fluid, like an instinct you wasn’t fully conscious of.

You leaped and spun, the world swirling around you as you poured every ounce of passion into each motion.

You could almost sense the presence of Franco in the crowd, his unwavering support fueling your performance.

As you completed an intricate sequence of jumps, you caught a glimpse of the other skaters.

Jenna and Mia—both had been formidable competitors throughout the season, but you felt an unexpected surge of confidence.

Your training, your determination, and Franco’s belief in you surged to the forefront of your mind.

“Remember, don’t just skate; perform!” you thought, pulling energy from the atmosphere, feeling the strength in your legs as you executed a difficult spin transition.

The gasps from the audience fueled your resolve, spurring you on for the final jump—the one you had practiced countless times in the mirror and in front of Franco.

And then, you soared.

Time seemed to stretch, and for an instant, you felt weightless, like you could touch the stars themselves. You landed perfectly, a feeling of liberation sweeping through your body as the music reached its triumphant crescendo.

The auditorium erupted into cheers, the sound both deafening and euphoric. You took a final bow, your heart full. There you were, this girl from a small town who had dared to dream.

The chill of the ice rink clung to your skin, the sharp sound of your skates slicing through the frosty surface still ringing in your ears. As you glided off the ice, your heart swelled with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

The performance had felt electrifying, a mosaic of leaps and spins that you had spent countless hours perfecting.

“Y/N! That was incredible!” Lauren exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement as she rushed over to you.

“Thanks, Lauren! I just… I feel like I finally nailed the double axel!” you grinned, trying to suppress the bubbling thrill of the moment. “I thought my heart was going to stop when I was in the air!”

Zara, your team captain, approached you with a proud smile, her arms crossed in front of her. “You did it, Y/N. You’ve worked so hard for this, and it showed out there. Not to mention that spin at the end—absolutely flawless!”

The warmth of her praise enveloped you as the remaining members of the team joined in, all clapping and congratulating you.

“Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Zara said, looking at you with her serious yet caring eyes. “Let’s wait for the results before we throw a party, okay?”

“True, very true,” you laughed, trying to contain my nerves. “But I’m hopeful!”

You all settled onto the benches lining the rink to wait for the scores to be announced. You fiddled with the cuffs of your skating dress, glancing back at the empty rink where your performance had just taken place, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Minutes felt like hours as the announcer’s authoritative voice cut through the chatter. “And now, we have the first results for the Women’s Singles finals competition. Y/N L/N has been given her first score of 89.95!”

A loud cheer erupted from the audience, accompanied by the resounding applause of your team. You could hardly believe it; your dreams felt within reach, each note of admiration from the crowd pouring warmth into your heart.

“Oh my God, Y/N! That’s amazing!” Lauren jumped up, a look of pure joy on her face.

“Yes! You crushed it!” Zara added, hugging you tightly. “This is just the first result though!”

You felt slightly dazed. “I can’t believe it!” you managed to say, your voice trembling. “I did it! It’s all happening!”

It was like being on stage as the spotlight focused solely on you, and you felt every ounce of love emanating from your team, pushing you to embrace this moment.

This was the highest you've ever scored for one result and it was highly impossible for someone else to replicate the same as you.

The atmosphere in the arena was electric. Vibrant lights flickered above as Mia, your fiercest competitor, prepared to take the stage.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation after your impressive high score on the dance challenge. You watched from the sidelines, your heart racing, and a mix of pride and anxiety surged through you.

“You’ve got this, Mia!” someone shouted from the audience, her friends cheering her on.

You appreciated their encouragement, even though you desperately wanted to maintain your spot at the top of the leaderboard.

As she stepped onto the stage with her usual flair, you leaned back in your chair, waiting to witness what she had in store. The music pulsed through the arena, a heavy bass that resonated within you.

Mia’s dance style was captivating, fluid yet sharp, and she quickly drew everyone’s attention. You couldn’t help but admire her talent, even if it was your score she was trying to beat.

Just as you were lost in her movements, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were greeted by Lauren, your manager.

“Hey, awesome performance today!” she greeted you with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Thanks, Lauren! I just hope I can hold onto my score,” you replied, the concern evident in your voice.

Lauren’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “It looks like your boyfriend is also doing good too,” she said teasingly, holding up her tablet to show you the race currently unfolding on the screen.

Your heart fluttered. You took the tablet from her hands and focused on the live feed of Franco, your boyfriend, who was battling fiercely in a Formula 1 race.

You squinted at the screen, watching as he maneuvered through sharp turns, his car a blur in the midst of the chaos.

“No way!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. “He’s in sixth! And look at him go against Lewis Hamilton!”

“Yeah, it’s insane! Look at how close they are!” Lauren pointed out, clearly as captivated by the race as you were. Franco’s car swerved to the right, narrowly missing a competitor as he attempted to overtake Hamilton.

You cheered, barely able to sit still. “Come on, Franco! You can do it,”

The crowd’s cheers for Mia faded into the background as your focus sharpened on the race. Each moment was an adrenaline rush as Franco pushed for fifth place, expertly navigating the track.

You glanced at Mia, who had just finished her performance, but you were hardly aware of whether she had topped your score. Your heart felt tethered to Franco's every move.

“I can’t believe how intense this is,” Lauren remarked, her eyes glued to the tablet. “He’s really giving Hamilton a run for his money,”

“He always does,” you grinned proudly, unable to hide the swell of admiration for Franco.

Memories of his early morning practices and late nights working on his skills flooded your mind. He lived for racing, and you knew he had the talent and determination to make it.

As you watched, Franco made a daring maneuver, slipping past another driver while inching dangerously close to Hamilton. “Come on, come on,” you whispered, practically bouncing in your seat.

“There he goes!” Lauren shouted, her excitement matching yours. Your heartbeat quickened as Franco, with a burst of speed, eased alongside Hamilton’s car.

In an instant, the traffic from the cars ahead created an opening, and Franco seized his opportunity. “Yes!”

“He did it!” you hollered, clenching your fist in victory.

Franco zoomed past Hamilton, securing the fifth position.

“That’s my boyfriend!” you exclaimed, your voice ringing with pride.

The crisp air inside the ice rink was filled with the sharp sound of skates slicing through the ice, intermingling with the echoes of the audience’s excitement.

You stood near the edge of the rink, your heart racing as you watched Mia walk off the ice. Her graceful movements and flawless execution had captivated everyone, but the scoreboard had revealed a different story.

Despite her efforts, she had fallen just short of your high score.

"Great job, Mia!" you called out, forcing a smile and clapping politely as she skated off, a mix of disappointment and pride etched on her face.

"Thanks!" she replied, breathless. "Just not good enough. But I’m proud of my performance."

You knew how hard she had worked. Hours spent practicing, each routine polished to perfection. But in this competition, there were no guarantees, especially with Jenna gearing up next.

Jenna had always been a formidable opponent, her talent almost inhumanly immense.

You turned your attention back to the rink as Jenna took her place. The crowd hushed, eyes fixated on her. You couldn’t help but feel a mix of admiration and trepidation.

As the music began, Jenna took off, her body flowing effortlessly to the melody. You watched in awe, marveling at her flexibility and rhythm. Each twirl, each leap took your breath away.

But then it happened. Jenna attempted a triple axel, the crowd holding its breath in anticipation. As she launched into the jump, time seemed to slow. You felt your heart in your throat. And just like that, she fell—hard.

Silence blanketed the rink, the world around you fading as you watched her scramble back to her feet, determination painted across her face.

She finished her routine, but everyone—judges and spectators alike—knew the score would suffer.

“Ugh, that’s going to hurt her,” Lauren muttered beside you, shaking her head sadly.

You nodded, feeling a pang of empathy for Jenna. It was a cruel twist of fate.

Moments later, the scores flashed on the screen, and you couldn’t believe your eyes when you saw your name at the top of the list. First place.

The cheers erupted around you, but your thoughts went to the second dance round, the deciding performance of the national competition.

“I’m so proud of you!” Lauren squealed, pulling you into a tight hug. “You’ve worked so hard for this, and you did it.”

“Thanks. But it’s not over yet,” you said, swallowing hard. “I still have the last dance, and I’m really nervous.”

“Just breathe. You’ve got this,” Zara encouraged, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Remember, just be yourself out there.”

But how could you ignore the rising anxiety gnawing at your stomach? You watched the clock tick down as Jenna walked off, looking crushed.

The rink was alive with bright lights and the soft hum of anticipation, a magical venue for a competition you had worked tirelessly for. The cold air bit at your skin, but the chill did nothing to dampen the warmth flooding your heart.

Dressed in a shimmering costume that sparkled like the stars above, you took a deep breath, steadying yourself on the ice.

It was time for the final dance, the moment that could decide your fate in this championship.

As you glided towards center ice, your mind flickered away to Franco. You could almost hear the roar of the crowd at the Formula 1 Grand Prix track, the high-pitched whine of lionhearted machines, and the scent of burning rubber in your nostrils.

He was out there right now, racing his hardest; you could imagine him, resolute behind the wheel of his sleek car, forcing every ounce of energy into each sharp turn.

He had always made it seem so effortless, the way he commanded the racetrack—and today, you wanted to emulate that fierce passion.

You took your position, heart racing in time with the beat of the music. The lights dimmed, and in that hushed moment, you could picture Franco's smile, the way it brightened his face when he spoke of racing.

“Do it for you,” he would say, his hands animated as he gestured roughly, “Every race is a part of you. Just feel it.”

As the music began to swell, cascading harmonies floating into the air, you closed your eyes briefly and thought of his encouraging words.

The melody wrapped around you like a gentle embrace, and when you opened your eyes, it felt as though the world had narrowed to just you and this ice rink, a blank canvas for your passion.

You eased into the first few movement sequences, every swish of your skates a declaration of your determination. The world fell away; there was only the pounding rhythm of the music, echoing in your chest, and the cold serenity of gliding on ice.

But then, as the choreography unfolded, you felt the raw energy of your emotions surging. It was intoxicating and terrifying, amplifying the rush.

Each leap and twirl brought back memories of Franco, seamlessly intertwining his influence into the elegance of your routine. As you spun, the echoes of his laughter and playful teasing reverberated through your mind.

You recalled the night he had surprised you after a practice, whisking you away to an alpine cabin just outside the bustling city.

“I know you’ll win,” he had said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as you stared out at the snow-covered trees. “Just remember—every time you dance on that ice, you’re racing against yourself.”

Those words spurred you forward now, transforming challenges into opportunities. With each line and curve of your performance, you felt your spirit soaring. You wanted to make Franco proud.

Then, as you reached a soaring climax in your routine, you stumbled—it was a slight miscalculation, an error that rippled through you like a thunderclap.

Panic gripped you for a moment, and for a second, you nearly let it consume you. But all you could think of was Franco, cheering for you from afar, just as he had when you practiced late into the night, insisting that you embrace the falls as much as the victories.

“Just keep pushing! It’s in you!” His voice echoed again in your mind, imbued with unwavering faith in your strength.

You kicked into a powerful leap, determined to regain momentum, and landed it smoothly. The final notes were washing over you like a warm wave, urging you onwards.

With renewed focus, you finished your piece with a burst of extravagance that set the audience on fire—an eruption of applause greeted you, and you greeted it with a radiant smile.

Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, you skated to the edge of the rink, where you raised your hands in exhilaration. The joy surged through you like a whirlwind of color.

And as the crowd's cheers faded into a distant hum, the only sound you wanted to hear was the familiar timbre of Franco’s voice celebrating your talent and ferocity.

You stood at the edge of the rink, your skates still laced, your heart pounding in your chest. Just moments before, the announcement had been made.

“And now, we have the results for the Women’s Singles finals competition. Y/N L/N has been given her total score of 168.46!”

Your score hung in the air like a gossamer thread, oscillating between pride and anxiety.

Flashes of the routine you’d executed just minutes ago danced in your mind—perfect pirouettes, soaring jumps, and the way the music had whispered secrets to your soul.

But now, all of that felt like a distant memory as you focused on the rink and your competitor, Mia, gliding towards the center.

Mia had always been your fiercest rival, a skater gifted with an infectious smile that could charm anyone watching. Still, on the ice, she was a lioness—a woman who left nothing to chance.

You could see the determination etched on her face as she prepared for her final performance. With a powerful thrust, she began her routine, her arms slicing through the air like a dancer born for this moment.

You turned to Lauren, who was leaning against the railing, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “She’s going for the triple axel,” you muttered, anxiety lacing your voice.

“She has to,” Karen replied, her eyes never leaving the rink. “Your score is very high to beat.”

As Mia took her first leap, your heart skipped a beat. The smoothness and grace with which she spun in the air was nothing short of breathtaking—the crowd holding their collective breath.

Just below you, Jenna paced back and forth, her nerves palpable. She’d stumbled during her first attempt but was determined to reclaim her moment on the ice.

You turned your attention back to Mia, who was finishing her routine with a confident flourish. As she struck the final pose, the crowd erupted into applause.

You swallowed hard, the reality hitting you again. She was so close to your score—if she performed well, she could easily surpass it. All of a sudden, the pressure felt immense.

Your heart pounded, and you could feel sweat collecting under your collar. You had poured everything into that routine; now, it was out of your hands.

“Mia’s going to take it,” you said, nervously biting her lip. “I know it.”

“No,” Lauren said impulsively. “She’s good, but so are you. You’ve worked hard! You’ve got this.”

The announcer's voice cut through your thoughts. “Jenna Davis is next. Let’s see how she embraces the challenge.”

Jenna took a deep breath, centering herself as she stepped onto the rink. The atmosphere changed dramatically; the crowd's energy was palpable, buzzing with nervous optimism.

As Jenna began to skate, you could hear the soft notes of her music drifting through the air. She started strong, executing her initial moves with poise.

The chorus swelled, urging her on, and she embraced it. The crowd was on edge, and so were you.

Her eyes flickered toward you as she flowed through her routine, visibly gaining confidence with each passing turn. Then it happened. With a powerful jump, Jenna attempted to land her double axel.

Time seemed to slow. The moment she landed perfectly, the crowd erupted into cheers, and you felt the warmth of hope blossom in your chest.

Jenna finished with an elegant twirl and a final pose, tears glistening as she skated over to you, glowing with triumph.

The announcer’s voice echoed again, “And Jenna Davis has redeemed herself, scoring a fantastic 152.03!”

Mia was still there, poised and ready for her scores. The moment felt surreal as the lights dimmed slightly and the focus centered on her.

“Mia’s going to be tough to beat,” Lauren said, shaking her head a little, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. “She always rises to the challenge.”

“Let’s just wait,” you said, trying to find that calm center again. But deep inside, you felt the tension thrum beneath your skin. It was a competition, and you wanted nothing more than to win.

You could already sense the warmth from the audience roll toward Mia as the announcer spoke her name.

As the results were announced, your heart raced. “Mia... 167.97! A solid score, but not enough to beat Y/N!”

You gasped, feeling a wildfire of disbelief. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. The arena was suddenly a cacophony of cheers, and the warmth from the audience rolled toward you like an overwhelming tide.

A surge of adrenaline pumped through you. You jumped up and down, throwing your arms around Zara, who was nearly as ecstatic as you were.

“I can’t believe it! You did it! You really did it!” Zara laughed, her voice carrying over the noise, pure joy radiating off her. “You’re the national champion!”

You couldn’t even find the words to respond. Instead, you nodded vigorously, a bright smile stretching across your face as you felt the joy erupt within you.

You allowed the feeling to wash over you because this victory wasn’t just about the medal or the title; it was a culmination of everything you had worked for, every late-night practice, every injury you pushed through, all of it leading to this moment.

And then, the announcer’s voice broke the stillness in the air again. “Y/N... 168.46! A remarkable display of skill, and our 2025 National Champion!”

Joy explodes within you, bursting forth like a pent-up dam. You instinctively clutch your chest, feeling the tremor of disbelief mixed with elation.

Your eyes glaze over, and before you know it, tears begin to spill down your cheeks, tracing paths of exhilaration. You’ve made it.

All those years of grueling practice, early mornings, and late nights have culminated in this very moment.

“Y/N! Oh my gosh, you did it!” Lauren, your manager, bursts forth, her arms wide open.

You barely take a second to wipe the tears before she envelops you in a tight hug, her warmth a welcome anchor in the whirlwind of emotions you’re feeling.

“Thank you, Lauren! I couldn’t have done it without you!” you manage to say, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

“Of course, but let’s be real, that was all you! You were phenomenal out there!” she exclaims, stepping back to look you in the eye. There’s a twinkle of pride in her gaze that makes your heart swell even more.

You take a deep breath, glancing around at your team, all gathered with wide smiles and glittering eyes. Their enthusiasm fuels your own, and you laugh, feeling the thrill of triumph wash over you like a warm wave.

“I couldn’t have done it without each of you. Every practice, every pep talk… it all counts,” you say, making eye contact with each team member.

With a grin, you turn your focus towards your competitors, Mia and Jenny, both of whom had pushed you to the limit this season. Their expressions are a mixture of admiration and disappointment, but you know all too well how they feel.

“Hey, great job out there,” you say, skating over to them, your skates gliding effortlessly on the ice. “You both made me really work for it.”

Mia smiles faintly, her confidence unbroken. “You were incredible. I can’t believe how close it was. Next time, I’ll bring my A-game for sure.”

“Definitely! We can’t let you have all the glory,” Jenny adds, her laughter brightening the tense atmosphere.

The three of you share a moment of camaraderie, which dissolves any lingering tension from the competition.

You breathe deeply, inhaling the fragrance of ice and adrenaline, your thoughts drifting to the next steps.

As you approached the podium, you caught sight of your family in the crowd, their faces beaming with pride. You waved at them, half-laughing and almost crying from the surge of emotions.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the rink, breaking your trance. “In second place, it is Mia Johnson!”

Mia jumped up onto the podium, her expression a mix of disbelief and joy. “At least I’m on the podium!” she called out, her laughter ringing in your ears.

“And in third place, we have Jenna Taylor!” The announcement sparked another round of applause, and as Jenna took her place, you readied yourself.

The excitement was palpable, but you felt a familiar flutter of nerves. You had to go up next, and this was the moment you’d been waiting for.

The host stepped forward, and all eyes shifted to you, a wave of silence falling over the crowd like snowflakes drifting to the ground.

“And in first place, it is Y/N L/N!”

You could hardly contain yourself as you leaped onto the podium, arms outstretched and a broad grin plastered on your face.

Cheers erupted like an explosion, and the applause felt like a physical blanket wrapped around you, warming your heart even amidst the chill of the rink.

As the medal was draped around your neck and the camera flashed, a sense of pride swelled within you. This wasn’t just an achievement; it was the culmination of years of hard work, determination, and a thousand early mornings driven by your passion for the ice.

After the ceremony concluded, you made your way outside of the rink—still buzzing from the final adrenaline of the performance, the applause ringing in your ears like a joyful chorus.

You needed to breathe, to process everything, but before you could step too far into your thoughts, a familiar voice called out to you.

You also needed to know how Franco finished in his race. It was a shame that he couldn't be here right now to celebrate but you know he was probably suffering in his media duties.

You had made it; your journey as a skater had culminated in this triumphant moment of glory.

You stood in the middle of your team, your heart swelling with pride. Cameras flashed as everyone posed with the medals, capturing the moment for posterity.

Each smile, each laugh, each joyful expression created a beautiful cacophony of success. It felt surreal, almost dreamlike.

Just as you were about to step away for a candid candid shot, Lauren, your manager, stepped into your line of sight, a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

“Hey, turn around for me!” she exclaimed, her voice cut through the celebratory noise with authority.

You narrowed your eyes, momentarily confused but eager to comply. “What for?” you asked, glancing back at her with a teasing pout, but her gaze was insistent, her gesture animated.

You turned, spinning on your skates, a smile still on your lips from the excitement.

And then, time felt like it froze. Standing there, just a few feet away, was Franco, your boyfriend. He was holding an enormous bouquet of flowers that dwarfed him, its vibrant hues almost electric against the acidic blue of the rink.

The bouquet was a kaleidoscope of colors, mostly filled with your favorites: soft lavender orchids, deep blue hydrangeas, and delicate red roses, the very ones you’d mentioned to him months ago as a blush crept into your cheeks.

“Congratulations, amor! I told you I would make it!” he exclaimed, his grin wider than the expanse of ice before you.

Franco stood out not only because of the grand bouquet he was wielding, but his passion seemed to ignite the air, drawing every eye towards him.

Your heart raced—a joyful shock and a wave of warmth coursed through you. “Franco!” You gasped, your hands instinctively running through your hair as you ran toward him, leaving behind the jubilant crowd.

You felt like a child on Christmas morning, caught off-guard by an unexpected gift.

Wrapping your arms around him, you buried your face in the fragrant blooms, inhaling deeply as if the scent alone could capture this moment eternally.

Franco chuckled, the sound rumbling softly in his chest. “You’re amazing! I knew you’d take home the gold!”

Pulling back to take him in, you brushed tiny remnants of ice from your hair and gazed deeply into his warm brown eyes. “I can’t believe you came. I thought you were going to be in media duties all day!”

He waved a dismissive hand, “I made them hurry up. I couldn't miss this. Not for anything,” he insisted, his gaze steady and earnest as he held the bouquet out to you.

“These are just a small token of my love. You deserve more than I can ever give you.”

“You're the best!” you breathed, still overwhelmed. As you took the bouquet from him, your fingers brushed against his, sending a ripple of electricity through your body.

You caught the attention of your teammates who were now grouped around, playful envy written across their faces.

“Can you even top that?” one of them teased, nudging your shoulder with an exaggerated wink.

Franco flashed an innocent grin, pulling you closer into his side, his warmth wrapping around you. “Oh, I can think of a few ways,” he fired back playfully, and laughter erupted around you.

“Once the cameras leave, I want a private celebration—just you and me,” you whispered, tilting your head up toward him, your playful tone hiding a genuine yearning.

“Absolutely,” he replied, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “But first, I think you owe me a victory dance on the ice.”

You narrowed your eyes, feigning indignation. “A victory dance? What do you think this is, some cheesy movie?”

“Cheesy? Nah, it’s romantic!” he insisted, a teasing grin playing at the corners of his mouth. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head.

With a dramatic flair, Franco led you back toward the center of the rink, the bouquet clutched in your hand like a trophy of your own victory.

As the laughter of your teammates faded into the background, the two of you spun around, gliding across the ice, arms raised high for a moment of carefree abandonment.

“Okay, okay!” you shouted, breathless from the joy of it all. The icy ground beneath your skates felt less like a challenge and more like an expanse of possibility. “But first, you need to wow me with your skating skills!”

Franco narrowed his eyes dramatically, taking a moment before he pulled off a series of impressive spins and moves that left you clapping enthusiastically.

“Ta-da!” he announced with a flourish, bowing comically as he stumbled slightly on the last move.

“You’re unbelievable,” you chuckled, more enamored than ever. “Why did I ever doubt you?”

He skated over to you easily, the applause still ringing in his ears. The twinkle in his eyes spoke volumes, and the delight on his face made your heart swell.

“You wouldn't believe how many lessons I took to just do that, amor,” he said, his breath coming out in little puffs against the chilly air.

“You took lessons?” you whispered, placing a hand on his cheek, your thumb grazing the stubble there. The warmth of his skin contrasted with the icy surroundings, making you feel a spark inside.

“I knew you were going to win, so I had to learn for you,” Franco muttered, placing a hand on your waist and drawing you close.

Laughter filtered through the air again as you lightly patted his cheek. “Cut it out. You’re going to make me blush!”

“I can’t help it,” he grinned. “You’re radiant, especially in this moment. Just look at you, the National Champion. You deserve the world!”

You felt the heat in your cheeks intensify. “Okay, okay! But you helped me reach it!” You took a deep breath, steeling yourself before continuing, “Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone else standing here with me.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, stepping closer, his hand finding a home on the small of your back, drawing you into him.

You could feel the world fade away, the cheers and the noise rolling into the background. The ice felt solid beneath your feet, grounding you as you lost yourself in his gaze. “Franco, I—”

But before you could finish, he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, a hesitant dance of two souls intertwining, before passion ignited it into something deeper, something that sent fireworks dancing in your chest.

When he pulled away, breathless, you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he confessed, running a nervous hand through his hair. “But I didn’t want to distract you before the competition.”

“Distract me? Not at all! I needed a distraction from all the pressure!” you teased lightly, still lost in the lingering warmth of his lips against yours.

Franco chuckled, drawing you closer still, your bodies almost fitting perfectly against one another. “Well, hopefully that distraction was a winning one,” he replied playfully.

“Definitely! Maybe I should have put it in my training! ‘Ice skating: 25% skill, 75% kissing my boyfriend.’”

He erupted into laughter, eyes twinkling with delight. “I’d be honored to provide the kisses,” he said, his voice a low rumble that enveloped you, making you feel warm in a way you had never quite experienced before. . . .

229 notes · View notes

ultfreakme · 25 days ago

Text

So.

I finished She-ra.

I wanted to watch it because I realized I rarely watched anything with a female-centric cast and I especially didn't interact with sapphic content despite being sapphic. Abundance of cishet male-specific stories and a love for action-adventure led me to not exploring the latter in stories centering women because I had my own biases. I didn't think there were nearly enough action-adventure stories centering women out there in comparison to men. I just gave into convenience. Also I'll be real, internalized misogyny.

She-ra was so breathtaking and impactful because close to a decade after watching Legend of Korra and the beginning of Korrasami, I got to watch a fully-explored lesbian relationship on-screen with all the action and adventure I wanted.

I saw too much of myself in all the characters. In Glimmer & Angella's mother-daughter bickering, in Catra's insecurities, in Mermista's distance and aversion to people but still wanting companionship. I saw me in bits and pieces across all these girls and women.

It's a rare moment for a POC queer woman like me to truly see myself anywhere. My identity is often considered rare enough to be mythic (although queer POC are fucking everywhere lbr).

I remember being an eight-year old, and watching The Little Mermaid for the first time. I was mesmerized, I sung "Part of Your World" and re-enacted in my tiny apartment with only enough space for a bed and a cupboard and nothing else where my entire family were. I'd sing it on top of my lungs and then I'd look in the mirror and see brown skin and black hair and the spell of being a mermaid underwater would break.

Then fast-forward to 2024, I see She-Ra and her magical princess friends say they need to recruit a powerful Sea Princess to their war efforts. I am excited only because my fascination for mermaids has never really gone away. Then our main crew arrive and what do I see?

A brown woman, a woman with my skin tone and my eyes and my wavy kind of hair. She's stand-offish and a little emo, and she controls the ocean. She can switch her legs for fins and swim!! Suddenly I'm eight again.

I also remember watching The Swan Princess for the first time and feeling strange butterflies every time I saw Odette in her beautiful white gown. I didn't know then that girls could like girls, all I had was this feeling. A buttery, soft feeling where I wanted to sit beside her and see her smile. As I grew up I understood it was me being attracted to her and thinking "there's no love story showing the way I love".

Enter Catra and Adora. I felt a silly kind of nostalgia seeing Catra in love with a magical girl in gold and white.

I could go ON AND ON with all these little details where bits of me were in the show. It made me a little less lonely, and made me a lot more hopeful. Seeing yourself in media is important. Obviously you don't need it to empathize with a character or understand them but seeing parts of your own experience on-screen is a different kind of high. Like, like woah I can be a protagonist like that? I don't need to erase myself?

A story which treated parts of me- all the good and the bad parts- with kindness and gave it all a happy ending. I am so used to reading tragedy, expecting cruelty from even fantasy that I truly treasure stories with hope.

This show gave me that. I have been doing pretty bad in terms of mental health for months, maybe over a year actually. This was a nice reprieve and I hope the message of the story sticks with me, and that I start 2025 stronger and braver.

#spop #she ra and the princesses of power

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beegomess · 6 months ago

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Imagines and Headcanons || Slytherin Boys

Transporting you to the Harry Potter universe, where you interact exclusively with the cunning and enigmatic Slytherin boys.

Link to the Portuguese version on Wattpad

Requests are open✨🫶🏼

Obscenities will be with *

⊹˚₊‧ 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 ‧₊˚⊹

How others see you as a couple What is your relationship like? Their care of you seck They dreming about you* Meeting you after the breaking up They are your brother's best friend Your marriage with them Song that represents your relationship - Lana's Version Your honeymoon

⊹˚₊‧ 𝑰𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔 ‧₊˚⊹

Blaise Zabini Fuck, I love everything about you*

Draco Malfoy coming soon

Lorenzo Berkshire Heated libraries* I can love you even in the dark

Mattheo Riddle She’s like me. I would die for her... I would kill for her* Tell your baby that i’m your baby In how many ways can you love him? Real love baby Is your father at home?* Take me back to the night we met

Theodore Nott Profane girl* Platonic loves I know I'll love you Are we bad for that? Summer wine* Can you be my sister?

Tom Riddle The girl who came from hell Loving you forever Do you know her? 'Cause I'm addicted

Random Imagines || Other characters

Dark Paradise || Theodore Nott

Link to the Portuguese version on Wattpad

Summary: Since they met, Y/N Malfoy and Theodore Nott have always been in the same social circles, but they were never close. Theodore, Draco's discreet friend who was always present at formal events, maintained an air of mystery that sparked Y/N's interest. At parties filled with alcohol and cigarettes, their conversations stood out for their depth and sincerity, revealing a sensitive and complex side of Theodore, different from the reserved image he presented to others.

As their interactions intensified, Y/N and Theodore began to understand each other in a unique way, sharing dilemmas and dreams. Their meetings, often under the moonlight or in libraries, became a journey of self-discovery and love. However, their emerging feelings faced challenges imposed by society and their own insecurities. Involved in a budding romance, they had to decide if they were willing to risk everything for this bond that flourished in the shadows.

Theodore Nott x Y/N Malfoy

Published chapters:

Prologue 01. Invisible Flirts 02. Childhood Crushes 03. Boy, you wanna come to my hotel, honey? 04. Swan Lake 05. How deep is your love? 06. Eyes on fire 07. Hidden Desires 08. Merry Crhistmas, Teddy 09. Scape 10. Sweet Dreams 11. Hints of jealousy 12. Dark days 13. Unexpected letters 14. Dances and feelings 15. Your halo’s full of fire 16. Friends come before boys 17. How'd it get so scandalous? 18. Holidays, Letters and Passions 19. Birthday gifts 20. Polaroids 21. Somebody's watching me 22. You drive me wild

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songbirdseung · 7 months ago

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happy accidents / park jongseong

synopsis: maybe getting hit by a basketball wasn't so bad?

pairing: jay x reader

warnings: injuries?

wc: 1k

Your solo trip to the park did not go as expected when you felt a sudden pain in your back. Ignoring the fact that your drink fell from your hand and almost ruined the white maxi skirt you were wearing, you turned towards the direction you assumed the ball came from.

"I'm so sorry, my friend is a clumsy idiot," a voice called out.

"Jake, shut up!" another male voice responded before facing you and apologizing for hitting you. "Basketball isn't really my thing, I'm more into guitars."

You blinked, still processing the pain and the sudden chaos. The guy who had spoken was now standing in front of you, looking genuinely apologetic. He had a warm, approachable aura that somehow made the whole situation less frustrating.

"It's okay," you managed to say, trying to smile despite the discomfort in your back. "Accidents happen."

Jake and another friend, who you assumed was Sunghoon, jogged over, both looking equally concerned. Jake had a sheepish grin on his face, while Sunghoon looked more serious.

"Are you alright?" Sunghoon asked, glancing at you with worry.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," you replied, waving off their concern. "Just a bit startled, that's all."

Extending his hand. "I'm Jay, by the way. Sorry again for that."

You shook his hand, feeling a bit more at ease. "I'm Y/N. And it's really okay, Jay."

Jake stepped forward, looking at the fallen drink. "Can we at least get you another drink to make up for it?"

You nodded, appreciating their efforts to make amends. "That would be nice, thank you."

As the four of you walked towards the park's cafe, you couldn't help but notice how easy it was to talk to them. Jay, in particular, had a relaxed demeanor that made you feel comfortable despite the awkward start.

"So, guitars, huh?" you asked, looking at Jay.

He chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, I've been playing for a few years now. Basketball is just something I do for fun with these guys."

"He's actually pretty good with a guitar," Jake added, nudging Jay playfully. "You should hear him sometime."

"Maybe I will," you said, smiling at Jay. "If you're not too busy accidentally hitting people with basketballs, that is."

Jay laughed, shaking his head. "I'll try to keep my basketball skills in check."

As you all reached the cafe, you realized that what started as a mishap had turned into a pleasant encounter. You got your new drink, and the conversation flowed easily among the four of you.

As the four of you sat at a small outdoor table at the park's cafe, the conversation continued to flow easily. You found yourself increasingly drawn to Jay's warm smile and easygoing personality. The initial awkwardness from the basketball incident had melted away, replaced by laughter and shared stories.

"So, Y/N, what brings you to the park today?" Jay asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"I was just taking a solo trip to enjoy the nice weather and watch the swans by the river," you replied, glancing in the direction of the serene water where you'd been earlier. "It's one of my favorite spots to relax."

Jay nodded, his eyes following yours. "I get that. Sometimes, you just need a peaceful place to unwind."

Jake and Sunghoon excused themselves to get refills, leaving you and Jay alone at the table. The air between you felt charged with a new energy, the kind that comes with the potential of something more than just a chance encounter.

Jay cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "You know, I really am sorry about earlier. I hope it didn't ruin your day."

You shook your head, smiling. "Not at all. Actually, it turned out to be a lot better than I expected, thanks to you guys."

Jay's face lit up with a smile. "I'm glad to hear that. Maybe we could hang out more often. You know, when I'm not accidentally hitting you with basketballs."

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I'd like that. Maybe you can even show me some of your guitar skills."

Jay's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Deal. How about we exchange numbers? That way, I can let you know when we have a less hazardous hangout planned."

You both pulled out your phones, quickly exchanging numbers. As you saved his contact, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

Jake and Sunghoon returned with their drinks, and you all spent a bit more time chatting before deciding to head your separate ways. As you walked back through the park with Jay, the conversation continued to flow effortlessly.

"You know, I wasn't kidding about the guitar," Jay said, glancing at you. "I really would like to play for you sometime."

"I'd love that," you replied, looking up at him. "And maybe you can teach me a thing or two."

Jay's smile widened. "It's a date, then."

As you reached the park entrance, Jay turned to you with a sincere expression. "I had a great time today, Y/N. I'm really glad we met, even if it was because of my terrible aim."

"Me too, Jay," you said, feeling your cheeks warm. "Today turned out to be pretty amazing."

Before you could part ways, Jay hesitated and then spoke up. "Actually, do you mind if I walk you home? Just to make sure you get there safely."

Before you could respond, Jake and Sunghoon, who had been lingering nearby, burst into laughter. "Aww, look at Jay, being all protective," Jake teased, nudging Sunghoon.

"Yeah, make sure she gets home safe, lover boy," Sunghoon added with a grin.

Jay rolled his eyes but couldn't hide his smile. "Cut it out, you two."

You laughed, appreciating their playful banter. "I'd love for you to walk me home, Jay. Thanks."

With a final wave to Jake and Sunghoon, you and Jay started walking in the direction of your home. As you strolled through the streets, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself feeling more and more comfortable around him.

As you approached your building, Jay turned to you with a soft smile. "Here we are."

"Thanks again for walking me home," you said, feeling a bit shy.

Jay shrugged, his smile warm. "Anytime. I had a great time today, Y/N."

"Me too," you replied. "See you soon?"

"Definitely," Jay said, giving you a wave as he started to walk away. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Jay," you called after him, watching as he disappeared down the street.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't help but smile. Today had turned out far better than you could have imagined, and you were already looking forward to your next meeting with Jay.

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swan2swan · 2 years ago

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this is The Plot then

#I thought it was a subplot #swan watches breaking bad

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xo-hugs-n-kisses-ox · 5 months ago

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Rumination

Ruminate

(v.) to think deeply about something

After Edward left her, Bella Swan fell apart. Desperate to try and save his eldest daughter, Charlie brings his youngest daughter to Forks to see if she can bring her sister out of her depression.

Now, y/n must try to help her sister find her way back to the light while also trying to navigate her Junior year of high school in the odd town of Forks.

Now playing: Long Way From Home by The Lumineers

Chapter One: Forks, Washington

Moving from Jacksonville, Florida, to the rainiest place in the continental U.S. wasn't an easy adjustment.

Seeing your sister act like the walking dead was even more trying.

All of it was because of that boy, who left her when things got hard. Mom only thought of "young love" and said "a little heartbreak builds character!"

Phil thought Edward was an ass, but that Bella was being a little dramatic about her first heartbreak.

Charlie and I shared a similar sentiment: Edward Cullen better not come back to Forks. If he does, I'll kill him.

I'd get away with it, too. Charlie would shut down the investigation because he'd be glad the boy was gone and wouldn't hurt his daughter any more.

I'd hurt him, especially but not limited to the fact that I wasn't quite sold about Bella falling down the stairs after she ran off. I don't think Edward pushed her, per se, but I don't think they told us the entire truth. Call it a gut feeling, or intuition, or whatever. I don't trust him or his family, aside from the good doctor. He's always seemed the most normal, from what I've heard.

---

"Bella," I call, knocking on the door to her room. It was quit still, and I was waiting impatiently for her to answer. We had to go to school before we were late and got another day of detention.

"Bella!" I shout, knocking on the door again. I hear some rustling and watch as the knob turns, only to find my sister with her pajamas on, her hair a mess, and looking like she had been through a hurricane.

She blinked owlishly at me, almost like she was deciphering who I was.

I sighed through my nose, trying to be sympathetic to her. I guided her to the bathroom and made her brush her teeth while I untangled her hair. In an attempt to keep it from getting ratty again, I braided it back tightly and wrapped put oils on the ends to try and keep it from frizzing up.

"Sorry," she told me, staring blankly at the mirror. All the anger in my chest deflated, and for a second, I felt as hollowed out as she looked.

Hollow, empty, devoid of soul.

That's how she looked.

Anger ignited in my chest again, but not at her. At her shitty ex-boyfriend who left her in the woods because he was a coward and couldn't break up with her properly.

"Don't worry about it," I told Bella, "I'll get Charlie to write a note or something. I guess the driveway was extra icy this morning."

---

The school day passed without much happening.

Bella's friend Mike tried to get me to pass something on to her, but I couldn't hear what he said before Jessica pulled him away without a glance at me.

I thought she was stuck up, but she wasn't a bad person.

Lunch was subpar again, the cafeteria food being lukewarm at best and cold in the middle of the mashed potatoes.

"I wonder if Charlie could threaten them into making the food better," I wondered aloud, poking at the food on my plate.

Bella remained frozen in time, staring at the seat beside me as if she was waiting for someone to appear there.

I sighed, shaking my head.

I hummed to myself as I continued to poke and prod at my food u til the bell rang to get back to class.

---

A few days pass.

Nothing changes.

Bella's still depressed and hardly living in the real world. She wakes up screaming from night terrors and Charlie's started to sleep in the couch so he doesn't have to get up from his bed anymore.

I've started to develop insomnia, I think.

I don't sleep until the early hours of the morning, since that's usually when Bella stays asleep, too.

I'm awake from six thirty in the morning until two in the morning.

My routine consists of waking up, getting dressed and ready for school, then getting Bella up and dressing her. It's about forty minutes allotted to each of us, and then an extra ten to get Bella's lunch ready and packed.

I go to school with her, go about my monotonous but peaceful day, eat a silent lunch with my sister, finish my day, and go back home.

When I'm home, I work on anything I didn't finish already. Sometimes I go in for work at the 24/7 diner at the corner of Wheatgrass and 74th, working the night shifts and getting home in time for Bella to stay asleep. I make my lunch from the food I got to take home from the Roy's Diner, I take a scalding hot shower, and I pass out for the four hours before I have to wake up again.

---

Angela asked me how Bella was.

She seemed like the only one that truly cared about my sister.

Jessica was sour because she was ignored. Mike only wanted in her pants and was stringing Jessica along. And Eric was nice, but really only cared about the news paper and Angela.

"Is she getting any better?" Angela asked me, sitting down beside me at the table I was reading at.

"Not really." I replied, looking up at her for a minute. "Charlie's about to send her back to Jacksonville."

"Oh," Angela said, looking sad at the news. "Is there anything I can do for her? I try to invite her out, but she never shows."

I shrugged, "Not much to do. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make her drink."

Angela nodded, her lips thinning for a moment before she got back up.

She patted my shoulder before she left, and I immersed myself back into my reading.

---

Working the night shift at Roy's was never boring. We got loads of interesting people here. Charlie called the diner "a drunk's dream." Sure, it was a little sleazy and a lot of greasy food, but it wasn't horrible to be in. If you ignored the obnoxious 70s disco decor.

A duo of two men were sat in my section, both of them looking like hell.

"Welcome to Roy's, I’m y/n. What can I get started for you?" I asked, my peppy customer service voice grating on my own nerves so late at night.

They both had tanned skin in shades of bronze, and long, dark hair. One had it pulled up in braids down his back, the other's hair loose.

"A Pepsi, please," the first man said, and he looked to the other boy, "Jared, what do you want?"

Jared ordered a strawberry milkshake.

"Be right back!" I told them, spinning on my heel and going to get their drinks.

"How old do you think those guys in your section are?" Chelsea asked as I filled up the drinks. She was staring at the two I had just spoken to, and I shrugged.

"Dunno, don't really care." I said, "They look grown enough, I guess."

"Grown enough?" She parroted, laughing, "They all have to be at least twenty!"

Again, I just shrugged.

"Ugh, no fun." Chelsea said, rolling her eyes and disappearing into the back to go gossip with the cooks.

"Here are those drinks," I said, setting them down before each of the boys. "Anything to eat?"

"I want two number twos with lettuce, tomatoes, unions, and pickles, please, and a large fry." Jared told me, and I wrote it all down quickly. Two double patty burgers and a large fry was a lot to get down, but boys had large stomachs, I guess.

Sam spoke next, ordering, "A number three with tomatoes and lettuce only, with a number four with everything and a large fry, please."

Spicy chicken sandwich with everything on it and a pulled pork sandwich, I wrote, then said, "Be right back, then."

I handled my other tables until the food was ready, and I had to ask Kass to help me carry it all. When I set the food down, in front of them, they both thanked me and started eating. I grabbed their cups to refill their drinks, and when I was back to the table, most of their food was already gone.

"You two sure can put food away, wow," I said, setting the drinks down again. Jared had ordered another milkshake, and a water. Sam still got the Pepsi.

Sam smiled, looking weary but better. Color had returned to his face, and his eyes looked brighter.

"We're growing boys," Jared joked, and I smiled.

When they left, after ordering a slice of pie, I got a nice tip and a doodled wolf on the check.

---

Bella went out with Jessica to see a movie, I think. I wasn't paying a lot of attention when she said it, I had a mountain of homework from physics and not nearly enough time to do all of it.

Charlie found Bella's wallet and told me to go give it to her, so I went to Port Angeles to find her.

I saw Jessica first, and she was watching in mute horror as Bella spoke to some strange man on a motorcycle.

"Bella!" I yelled, people glancing my way as I stormed up to her to snag her by her arm and drag her away.

For a moment, she looked hopeful, like she was expecting to see someone else.

"Oh my god, you're stupid!" I yelled, dragging her back to my car. "Do you not think about anything anymore? He could have kidnapped you! He could have done worse!"

"I just-" she caught herself, flinching, "I thought I knew him."

"Good lord," I said, swearing at her for her recklessness, "I thought Charlie would have told you about stranger danger, but I guess not! Maybe it's time for a refresh!"

Jessica trailed behind us as I berated Bella and lectured her over the dangers of strangers and dark alleyways and motorcycles.

I folded my sister into the passenger seat of my car, ordering Jessica in the back seat.

"But, uh, what about Bella's car..?" Jessica asked, staring at me.

"I'll get it tomorrow. I don't trust Bella not to do something else stupid with it now." I huffed, reaching over to buckle Bella's seatbelt and peeling out of the parking lot.

I dropped Jessica home safely and pulled into the driveway, marching back inside.

"Your daughter has lost all her sense!" I told Charlie, "Dad, you need to tell her about stranger danger again before she gets herself kidnapped!"

"Y/n, now wait a minute-" he started, glancing at the door as my sister came stalking in behind me.

"Bella, you wanna tell me what your sister is talking about?" Charlie asked, and I huffed as she just sighed.

She explained and got a stern talking to, but I wasn't satisfied.

I started going everywhere with her, after that.

When we weren't in classes, I was attached to her hip. Hell, I even started sleeping in her room with her.

She still kicks.

But the nightmares become less frequent when we have sleepovers every night.

I make her take care of herself by doing it for her, forcing her to brush her teeth and wash her face as I do her hair in the mornings and at night, packing a healthy lunch for her, and forcing her to keep up with her studies.

It's exhausting, but it's better than staying up until I cant anymore, and it's slowly getting me my sister back.

And then Jacob comes back into the picture

He and Bella are fixing up some old bikes. I have no interest in them, so I sit with them and listen as they talk.

Sometimes I draw some still life pictures of them, sitting together and working.

Sometimes I sleep.

Sometimes I do my homework like a good student.

Slowly, I started to trust Jacob with my sister. I started picking up more daytime shifts at Roy's, and I started to relax.

The nightmares still happen, but they've gone down to about twice a week now.

Sometimes she only wakes up crying, others it's the screaming again.

But progress is progress.

---

"Y/n, I sat a group of three in your section. Booth in the far corner, babe." Makayla told me as I passed the host stand.

"Thanks, Mak," I said, hurrying to drop off my drinks to some travelers before going to my new table.

Ryan comes barreling my way to drop some food off, and I spin around him to avoid knocking into him and his tray of food. I get to the booth in the back, seeing some familiar faces.

"Hey guys," I smile, recognizing two of my favorite customers, "I haven't seen you two in a minute, how've you been?"

Sam, who I learned later from Charlie, had been the one to find Bella after she was dumped in the woods by Edward. I didn't care if he knew who I was or not, not really, because I knew who he was. I couldn't do much for him, but showing my gratitude for saving my sister through the Family and Friend's discount was enough for me.

"So busy," Jared complains, pointing an accusing finger at Sam, "He's had me doing chores for days and makes me take more if I don't do my homework! He's like my mom now!"

Sam rolls his eyes as I laugh, reaching out to flick Jared in the forehead. The two of them have been coming to

"You're working with me, I'm responsible for you. So sad for you." Sam says dryly, and I shake my head at their antics.

"Strawberry shake and Pepsi?" I ask them, my eyes tuning towards their new friend.

He looks rough, almost like Bella did. His long hair is pulled back in a hastily done bun, and his eyes are sharp and attentive. He looks at me oddly, his brows slightly drawn together and his eyes squinting slightly.

"What can I get for you?" I ask him, an odd feeling rising in my chest as I meet his eyes.

He's quiet for a moment before he takes a deep breath and orders a water.

I nod, taking down his drink order and turning towards the kitchen.

"Ooh, your friends brought someone new!" Chelsea crooned, coming to drape her arms over my shoulders as she watches me fill up the two cups in my hands. I roll my eyes.

"Chels, why are you always back here when you're supposed to be doing your work?" I ask, dragging her towards the milkshake machine as I fill up Jared's strawberry shake.

"I'm doing my side work! I got cut early." She says, smacking her gum in my ear. I cringe, reaching back to push her face away from mine.

"Love that for you, girl, but get your smacking away from my ears, please." I told her, hearing her laugh as I add a cherry to the milkshake and a drizzle of chocolate syrup. She walks off to go finish cutting her lemons and I put all three drinks on the tray to bring them out.

I set down the drinks and milkshake, turning the tray under my arm as I pull out my note pad to take down their food order.

"Number three, no unions, large fry, and a chicken sandwich, unions, tomatoes, lettuce, with a large fry." Jared rattles out, and I jot it down quickly. I turn to Sam and notice a distinct lack of his friend beside him.

"Chicken tenders and a large fry, number two and a basket of onion rings, please," Sam says, adding, "Paul will have the same as me, but without the onion rings and with fried pickles instead."

I nod, writing it all down.

"You want me to put a slice of pie in and bring it out later?" I ask, seeing Jared nod enthusiastically.

"That'd be great, y/n, thanks." I again nod at Sam's words, turning away and hustling to the kitchen to put in their order.

I service my other tables while the boys' food is being made, bustling around my section. I'm keenly aware of eyes on me, but I figure it's just someone waiting to get my attention so I can give them a refill.

When their food is ready, I bring it out to Sam and his group.

I set each of the baskets down before each of the boys, picking up their cups and going to get them refills.

They each eat quickly, and every time I pass their table, my skin prickles.

I try to see if it's one of them that needs my attention, but each time I look over, they're all engrossed in their food, or a conversation. Any time I look over, they're in tense conversation. I try and keep my distance so I don't disturb them, but I make sure to keep attentive to their cups and plates.

I sigh after a while, deciding that I must be making things up. No one seemed to be looking at me.

They ate quickly and I ran them their check. I was left with a good tip and a smiley face on the paper of the check beside Sam's signature.

---

When I was finally cut to go home, I took a long shower and collapsed in my bed. When my eyes closed, I saw a picture in my mind's eye.

Dark eyes framed by thick lashes. My vision slowly panned out, and I saw dark eyebrows. There was a slight wrinkle between them, like the person was frowning. Slowly, my mind put together a strong nose, then high cheekbones, full lips, and a strong jaw. Finally, I saw long, dark hair framing this handsome face.

Slowly, I put a name to the face I saw in my mind.

Paul.

Why I was seeing Sam and Jared's friend, I had no clue. There was no denying that he was attractive, though. His angular face and sharp eyes made him look uninviting, but his sullen demeanor was softened by his full, almost pouty lips and well kept hair. His lack of facial hair made him look younger compared to Jared, who's scruffy chin made him look closer to twenty than to seventeen. The long, silky hair on his head had been messily pulled back, yes, but it served to make him look almost boyish, also.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when my door creaked open, and I peeled my eyes awake to see Bella standing in the doorway. Wordlessly, I pulled back the blankets around me and scooted over. She shut the door behind her and fell into my bed, sighing as I reaching out to pull the blanket over her shoulders.

I fell asleep shortly after, Bella's breathing steady almost immediately.

Word Count: 3157

Author's Note:

Hey guys!! This is my first fic ever! Please lmk what you think about it 🥰

Also, I plan to change some things about the story. I'm going on a mix of the books and movies, but I plan to change the timeline a little, change the logistics a bit, and make some of the characters a bit older because I don't like how literally everyone is like 16?? Anyway, I'll probably put out a chapter of all the stuff I change to get some feedback and stuff

All rights go to the original authors and publishers !

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frenziedfireworks · 2 years ago

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Book Exchange

Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary : You read quite a risque book next to your best friend and the next few days are filled with lots of tension.

CW : SMUT, f!reader, 18+ Characters, Praise/Degradation, fingering (f! receiving), breeding kink, possessive!seb (if u squint), lots of teasing & cheesy petnames

A/N : I thought of this idea a few days ago and have been working hard on it LMAO. I love the game and have such bad brainrot - if anyone has requests for the hogwarts legacy characters.. send them my way <3

Sebastian and you had been close for a long time. I mean with everything you two had gone through it was only plausible. He was your rock, best friend, and maybe.. secret crush. He didn’t need to know about that though! Besides, you would never want to ruin what the two of you had.

“You’re staring. What’s wrong?” Sebastian’s voice took you out of a daydream. You shook your head as the boy raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing. Just was thinking about the potions essay.” Sebastian groaned, throwing his face into the couch pillow.

“Don’t remind me. This is supposed to be our break, you know.”

He was right. For it being Christmas break it didn’t feel as much. All of your professors were going overboard with the homework as if a few weeks off would make your brain go smooth. You had barely any time to read or venture around with the looming thought of essays.

“It is quite tedious. I don’t get why they continue to add even more work.”

“Beats me. I think they just like to watch us suffer. Either way, I still don’t like them. I’m taking a nap.” Sebastian adjusted himself over the couch, laying his legs across your lap. You smiled as you rested your hands on his limbs, looking at his relaxed face. He was quite beautiful when he wasn’t talking himself up or making snarky remarks. Not that you would tell him that, you would never hear the end of it.

‘Does dear Y/N really think I’m beautiful? Am I like your little swan, my love’

You shuddered at the thought and rolled your eyes. He would. With this time alone, or more so, without Seb bothering you to death you looked around and took out your book. Nobody would catch you this late and it wouldn’t hurt to read.. It made you nervous thinking about if Sebastian woke up and caught you with such a scandalous book but you couldn’t help yourself. You had always secretly loved dirty literature. You’d go into a quaint bookshop where your friend, Agatha, had a hidden section for women like you. The scandalous and degenerative novels.

His fingers trailed down her bodice, lips making their way down her neck. Their breaths combined as he yanked at the last remaining garments.

You held your breath. You knew you were finally getting to the good part.

“Darling, you are ravishing. Look at you, such a smart and pretty girl, open all for me..” His hands circled her neck, pulling her ever closer. “Say it. Go on.” She shuddered at his domineering voice.

“Merlin’s beard.” Sebastian grumbled as he adjusted his back.

You had almost screamed, shuffling your book into your bag. Sebastian was just as shocked, holding his chest as if he had just had a heart attack.

“I think I’ve just died. What in the world did you jump for?” Sebastian breathed out, hand rubbing at his eyes.

You calmed yourself, rubbing soothing circles into his leg.

“Sorry. You moving scared me, I was out of it.” You gave him a small smile hoping that he wouldn’t pry anymore in his sleepy state. He just hummed and closed his eyes.

“Right. Try not to jump next time I wake up, yeah?” A half smirk made his way onto his face. You only nodded, continuing to fidget for the next few minutes. Maybe reading improper literature in the halls wasn’t your best idea.

—

It had been a few days since that incident and you and Sebastian were out and about. He had decided that going on a walk would ‘clear your minds’ before going back to the hell that was classwork. You had to admit that seeing his nose and cheeks tinge with a lovely shade of red was worth freezing your ass off.

“It’s pretty isn’t it?” Sebastian’s voice cut through the silence, his eyes wandering across the fields of snow. It was gorgeous but you couldn’t help but think that your view of him was much more of a sight.

“It is.” You murmured, watching as he turned to meet your eyes. He gave you a small smile, one he reserved for moments like these. The calm and kind Sebastian, the unprotected one that he let almost no one see. You liked this Sebastian. It made you feel special. He let you in to see his vulnerabilities and you felt like you could melt away in them.

“It’s getting late, you know. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble getting back after curfew.” His tall frame ushered behind you and weaved his arm around your chest. His head laid against yours and you swore Medusa had turned you to stone. You took a few slow breaths trying to calm your racing heart and finally spoke.

“A few more minutes couldn’t hurt Seb.”

His lips lingered by your ear and his scent engulfed you.

“Trying to get us in trouble? Such a naughty girl.”

Your whole body lit up in flames. Sebastian was a flirt but he had never said something so brazen before. There was no way in hell he was doing that on purpose, he had to be trying to get a rise out of you or something.

“Oh shut up. You’re one to talk.” Your voice cracked and suddenly your shoes looked very interesting.

“Heh. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. Let’s get back.” Sebastian smacked your back and began walking away without a second word. Your mouth was almost on the ground. You would kill him if he didn’t kill you with his comments first.

—

Things had turned back to normal after your little moment. Well as normal as it could be. The comments he made still lived in the back of your head and got louder as you tried to sleep at night.

You had tossed and turned in bed for what felt like hours, dirty thoughts of Sebastian plaguing away. His large and calloused hands making their way down your body. His broad chest caging you against the bed as his fingers yanked at your undergarments. God was it insufferable. You finally got up and looked around the room for your bag. You desperately needed release or something to take your mind off the impurities of Sebastian.

Perfect.

Your hand pulled at your book and you settled down into bed again. It couldn’t hurt to finish the novel and at least there was no prying eyes while you were alone.

—

There was a bang against the door waking you up from your much needed sleep. You raised your head from the comfort of your pillows with a loud groan hoping it was enough to get whoever it was to go away.

“Sebastian has been annoying the shit out of me for hours, Y/N. I cannot take him for much longer and he has been begging for you. Can you please come take care of your boyfriend?” Imelda’s voice echoed through the dorm halls.

“He isn’t my boyfriend!” You moaned as you got up to get dressed. Leave it to Sebastian to keep you up all night and wake you up early.

“Yeah and I’m not good at Quidditch! Just keep him out of my sight!” She barged away, a few profanities leaving her mouth.

You begrudgingly made your way through the halls of the common room to be met with the puppy dog eyes of your best friend.

“Y/N finally! I was starting to think you’d never wake up!” Sebastian automatically took your arm in his and led you over to one of the empty couches.

“Wish I hadn’t. Wouldn’t have to deal with your ugly face then.” Sebastian mocked offense and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say. I have a busy day planned for us.”

The boy went over his need for a few potion ingredients, something about losing a bet with Ominis and how you would accompany him to Hogsmeade. You just nodded along, half asleep as he continued to dawdle.

“So then when I get that all done- Y/N are you even listening to me?” His hand shook at your form and you rubbed at your eyes.

“Yeah, your potion for Ominis and everything. I got it Seb. Let’s just get it over with.” You stretched and motioned for him to get walking.

“Jeez, someone didn’t sleep well. Nothing a few butterbeers can’t cure though.”

—

Half of the day you spent standing behind as Sebastian bought things. He even went and bought a few new sweaters with your ‘much needed approval’ as he put it. It was quite funny seeing him strike a pose or two whenever he tried on a new outfit. In your mind though Sebastian was handsome enough to pull off a garbage bag if he wanted to.

“Now we can go get those much earned butterbeers.” His cheery disposition made you grin as he tugged you along to the Three Broomsticks. You two quickly made your way over to ‘your table’.

“Oh if it isn’t trouble. I was starting to miss you two.” Sirona plopped down two butterbeers and grinned. “On the house today.” She walked away as you both spouted your thanks and got to drinking.

“Today wasn’t too bad was it?” Sebastian asked.

His hair was a bit askew and his new green sweater made his eyes blend with the caramel color of the drink. He was absolutely breathtaking.

“Yeah, not too shabby. You like pulling me around?” You joked. Sebastian’s fingers brushed against yours on the table and he sent you a look you had never seen before.

“Oh trust me there’s a few other things I’d like to pull you into.”

Your mouth went agape and it felt like you had just walked across hot coals.

“You-”

Sirona interrupted the two of you with a smack to the table.

“The two of you best leave, have to close early I’m afraid. One of my dear friends fell ill.”

Your brain had barely processed the words before the two of you were being shooed out the door and Sebastian was walking you back to the castle.

“She was in a rush. I’ve never seen her so concerned. I hope everything will be alright.” Sebastian filled the empty void with words but you couldn’t pay attention. The heat along your core still flamed as you took each step. How much longer was he going to keep up this charade?

—

You were having a major sense of deja-vu. Your eyes circled the drapes of your bed as your thoughts ran wild with Sebastian. Again. A plan had to be made because there was no way you could continue to be in his presence with the comments and tension. Would you tell him your feelings? No. Could you flirt back? Not to save your life. Whatever could you do.. You punched your pillow in defeat and got up looking for your book. You rummaged through your bag when something caught your eye. There was a book in there that hadn’t belonged to you. You brought it into the light and your soul left your body.

It was a scandalous novel. A new one that you had not yet read or bought. You peeled the cover open and a card dropped into your lap.

‘You don’t need to read these sinful books to get what you’re looking for. Although it was quite hot to see you do such a lewd thing right in front of me. You’ve got balls. Enjoy this one, yeah? Maybe we can even act it out once you’re done.’

If it was possible to die of embarrassment you would already be ten feet underground. Sebastian had caught you that night and enjoyed it. Who knew how long he had sat there and watched you squirm as you read the words. Not only that but he had the gall to buy you another and write such a cheeky note. Your body hummed with electricity at the thought of reenacting such stories with Sebastian.

You had a book to read.

—

You practically ran down the corridor stairs in the morning. You had come up with a perfect plan to corner him in his own game. Your mouth formed into a devious grin as you spotted Sebastian. Slowly, you approached him and ran your finger over the back of his neck. His eyes raised and his cheeks were dusted with a sheen of rose. You gave him a casual smile and sat down.

“Morning Seb. Any plans for today?” You asked as you laid your legs across his lap and stretched your back revealing just a tiny bit of your stomach. His grip on your thighs got just a tad tighter.

“I-Uh no. You have anything in mind?”

“Quite a few things actually. You game?” You rubbed at his hand, attempting to connect the dots with his freckles. You could hear his uneven breathing from the other side of the couch and that only fed into your newfound confidence. You tapped against his hand again.

“I said are you game or not?” Your voice commanded and his hues widened like saucers.

“Of course. When would I not be?” He exasperated and dug his nails harder into your flesh.

“Mm.. good boy. That’s what I thought. Come on then.” You couldn’t help but chuckle as you heard the tiny gasp leave his mouth. It wasn’t even seconds before he was in tow following you like a mother hen.

You cackled silently to yourself when you made your way to the front door of the Great Hall and turned. Sebastian had never looked so confused nor dissatisfied in his life.

“I’m starving!” You made your way down to your usual seats and watched as his sulky attitude got worse. His grip on his poor spoon would soon break it if he wasn’t careful.

“Your plans are to eat? That’s it?” His voice was deep and annoyed, dark eyes following the movement of your lips. Seeing him like this made you uncomfortable. Not in a bad way of course, but more so extremely turned on.

“Yeah? Like I said I was hungry. Thought we could go out and play gobstones-“

“You think you’re fucking funny?” His grip was suddenly not on the spoon but your shoulder, lips lingering on your ear.

“I think I’m fucking hilarious.” You whispered under your breath. That was obviously the wrong move because he ripped at your shoulder, practically dragging you out of the hall.

“Fucking brat. Think you’re funny. I’ll show you fucking funny.” Sebastian grumbled as he shoveled you down the Undercroft stairs. Your core clenched at his snide remark and part of you hoped that he really was angry. Maybe he would finally stop dancing around the subject of you two.

Sebastian’s hand pushed you against a pillar as the other slammed next to your head. He had perfectly sandwiched you beneath him, his dark eyes watching your every move.

“Not talking much anymore, are you?” His breath danced against your face, nose nudging against yours.

“Kiss me already.” You groaned and Sebastian took action. His mouth was everywhere at once. Dangerous kisses were pressed against your neck and jawline, his teeth rubbing against the flesh enough to leave red marks. He moved slowly as if you were prey, his eyes watching the way you squirmed under his gaze.

“You’re lucky I want to kiss you. I wouldn’t be giving you it so easily otherwise.” His face melted into your own, tongue prodding its way into your cavern. His hands roamed your body earnestly pulling at almost anything he could touch. Your whole body was jolting from the little touches, feeling as though he had made you anew.

“Seb-” You moaned as his hands ran beneath your shirt. It was tantalizing the way he rubbed the plush of your stomach, eyes pleading you to take off the garment. You could only nod in consent before he had thrown it halfway across the room. His hues took your form in, tongue wetting his lips.

“You’re fucking beautiful. I’m going to ruin you.” His hands worked at the hooks of your bra and he raised an eyebrow in confirmation. You don’t know where the sudden confidence came surging from but you moved his hands and trailed it slowly down your body. Part of you wanted to hide but it was too late for that. He had already seen you and besides, you had been imagining this for quite some time.

“God. Look at you.” Sebastian shoveled his hair back and dove in. His lips circled your nipple, teeth tugging at it just enough to make you yap.

“Fuck! Sebastian please.” Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued to lap and massage your tits. He looked absolutely sinful making eye contact with you from such an angle.

“Please what? Tell me what you want.” His hand came down to slap your tit and an equally evil grin appeared as he heard your moan.

“P-Please. Put your hands on me.” Wanton moans passed your lips as he continued to indulge in his pleasures.

“My hands are already on you. See?” You could practically see his ego soaring as he kneaded your breasts.

“More.”

“More? Aren’t you demanding?” Sebastian mocked as his fingers trailed your waistband. He pulled at the soft material and danced on a fine line of barely touching you. He was slow and agonizing as he pulled at the buttons of your skirt, continuously glancing to watch your reactions.

“Sebastian, please. I need you.” Your fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt getting even more agitated by the second. His hands swatted yours away and quickly stripped away the cloth.

“You’re a greedy little thing. I swear I could’ve thought you were teasing me not even ten minutes ago. Now I have you pliant and needy. Should I really give you what you want?”

Your hands splayed against his bare chest and there was nothing more you wanted to do than to be one with him. A sudden primal desire to be as close as humanly possible and feel his muscles convulse against you. You knew that Sebastian wanted to hear you beg and you would give him whatever he wanted.

“Please. I’m begging you. I’ll be good.” You choked back a moan as Sebastian ripped your outfit off at the seams. Your underwear and skirt pulled away in one swift move and his hands rubbed deliciously at your inner thighs.

“Gonna be my good girl, Y/N? Gonna give me what I’ve been craving?” Sebastian hovered his hand over your core for a few seconds to let his words seep in. Your body yearned for his touch and you couldn’t help the way you bucked into him.

“Yes! I’ll be your good girl.” You practically yelled as his fingers finally dipped through your folds. He hummed in response and leaned back in to kiss you. His teasing had come to a stop when you felt his first digit slowly push into your heat.

“Oh fuck!” Your head fell against the pillar and your arms shook against his back.

“You’re so fucking tight. I can’t wait to be inside of you.” Sebastian began plunging in and out, his pace brutal. You had thanked Merlin that Ominis was busy because you were sure anyone coming near the Undercroft entrance could hear your screams. You could feel the string in your stomach becoming tighter by the second and Sebastian noticed too. He picked up the pace and added another digit making your eyes cross.

“Who makes you feel like this?” Sebastian grunted as his thumb rubbed at your nub pushing you even closer to the edge. Your hands gripped to his form for dear life as your orgasm finally hit.

“You! Fucking hell. Sebastian, all you!” Your head rested against his shoulder as he continued to pump his fingers in and out to prolong your high.

He gave you a few seconds before withdrawing his fingers and bringing them up to his lips. If you hadn’t just came you were sure you would’ve from the sight alone.

“You’re ridiculous.” You whispered as he pushed his boxers down and his hard cock slapped against his stomach. The sight alone made you drool.

“It’s all your fault.” Sebastian chuckled and swiped his fingers across your slit. You jolted in his hold and watched him in a trance as he used your slick to pump his cock. You had never seen a more erotic view in your life.

“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you now. Okay?” Sebastian’s words knocked any air out of your lungs. He was so vulgar and yet you felt yourself convulsing around nothing, wishing for nothing more than to be pummeled by the man.

A small please passed your lips before he was frenzied. He snapped his hips into yours, not even waiting for you to adjust as he got to work. It felt as if you were a rag doll being thrown around with the animalistic pace he set. Every spot within you was on fire and if it kept it up you would explode.

“F-Fuck Seb! So good.” Your back knocked against the pillar as he groaned.

“Fuck yeah. Only I can make you feel like this.” His grip was sure to leave bruises. Not that you really minded. If anything it only added to your pleasure.

“I can feel you tightening princess. Is the little slut gonna cum again?” His wicked words made you gasp and lose your composure. Your body shook as you came, Sebastian still impaling you on his cock in search for his high. You could tell he was close from his unintelligible groans and praises.

“Fuck! Good girl. Take it.” Sebastian’s dark eyes closed shut as he leaned his head onto you. His hot seed filled you up and the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing.

Sebastian pulled out of your wet heat, both of you whining in the process. His eyes shot up to yours and he grinned.

“That was so fucking good. I’ve wanted that for so long.”

You could only laugh and nod in agreement.

“Me too. Does that mean we’re done with the charade of being best friends?” You looked around the room for your top as he hummed.

“Yeah. Reckon my girlfriend deserves a proper date now.”

“I would sure hope so after getting my brains fucked out!”

Laughter filled the Undercroft as the two of you redressed. Maybe you would read more dirty literature in the halls if it led to this.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader smut #sebastian sallow x mc

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agaypanic · 1 year ago

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Hello! I'd love to request Charlie Swan with a teacher girlfriend. Perhaps he comes to visit on his lunch or something and sees how attached the kids are to her and it makes him happy to see how caring she is. Please and thank you!(I work with pre k but my former class was todds and they are still clingy 💖💖)

Lunch Break (Charlie Swan X Teacher!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chief Swan visits his girlfriend on his lunch break, and can’t help but adore the way she is with her students.

A/N: i know nothing about taking care of or teaching little kids lol

***

Charlie wasn’t used to being around a toddler, let alone twenty of them. Even when his daughter Bella was at that age, he didn’t see her much.

Yet here he was, sitting in his girlfriend’s classroom, having lunch with her while a group of toddlers napped on the floor.

“So, how’s your day been?” You asked in a whisper, picking at the burger and fries that Charlie had brought you from the Carver Cafe.

“Oh, not much.” He responded in an equally low voice, but more gruff. His fingers smoothed over his mustache before speaking again. “Still looking into those missing persons cases, but we’ve been coming up with nothing.”

“You’ll find something, bear.” You squeezed his shoulder, and he leaned into your touch. “You always do.”

“Yeah, maybe… But enough about me, how’s your day?”

You let out a tiny laugh, not surprised that Charlie would bounce the attention onto you as soon as he could.

“Well, today we had an art day.” You gestured to one of your tables on the opposite side of the room, covered in different drying papers. “Watercolor, crayon, markers, that kind of thing. That was really fun. I know I shouldn’t play favorites, but I really like Delilah’s. You know her mom, right? Samantha?” Charlie nodded after a quick moment of thought, and so you continued. “Well, she wanted to make a meadow, so she covered her paper in green, and then she stamped little fingerprints all over as flowers. I mean, you kinda have to ask her what it is to figure out what it is, but I don’t know, it was really cute and- oh my god, I’m rambling, huh?” You covered your mouth to stop more word vomit from spilling, a little giggle slipping past your fingers.

Charlie pulled your hand away, laying a kiss on your knuckles. He nudged your knee with his own, a coy smile on his lips.

“No, I like hearing you talk.” Your cheeks reddened, and you scrunched your nose at him. He squeezed your hand. “Come on, keep going. What happened after painting?”

“Read the kids a story.” You answered, trying to remember the title. “They really like that Llama Llama book. But some of the kids really wanted ‘Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!’ so I told them I’d read that after nap time. Then they all had food, fell asleep, and then you came with lunch.” You ate a fry before stealing a sip of Charlie’s coffee. You liked how he didn’t mind, instead watching you with a fond expression. “Which is delicious, by the way, thank you.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

“Ms. Y/n?” A tiny voice sounded from one of the sleeping mats. You gave Charlie’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go and standing up from your chair.

“Jayden?” You asked quietly, even though you knew it was him from his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Bad dream.” The little boy answered, rolling off his cot and looking at you with bleary eyes and a frown.

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey.” You said softly, crouching down close to him. “Do you want a hug?”

He nodded a few times, carefully walking through his sleeping classmates to reach you. He latched his arms around your neck, and you patted his back, waiting until he felt better.

Charlie saw the interaction from the corner of his eye, not wanting little Jayden to feel watched. He couldn’t help but smile at how quickly you were able to comfort him. It was clear that you were made for this kind of work, being so caring and nurturing without even thinking about it.

“Feeling better?” You asked Jayden as he let go of you, and he nodded. You smiled at him. “I’m glad. Now, you have a couple more minutes before we gotta start waking up. Do you wanna lay back down?” Jayden nodded again, and with a little wave of his hand, he tiptoed back over to his mat.

When he was settled, you stood up from your crouched position and went back to Charlie, who was looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“What?” You asked, finishing off the rest of your food.

“Nothing.” He said, shaking his head a bit. Charlie looked at his watch and sighed, realizing his break was almost over. “I should probably leave. The boys’ll need me back at the station soon.”

“Okay.” You said with a slight pout, wishing you had more time with him. The two of you cleaned up, Charlie insisting that he could throw the trash away on his way out. “I’ll see you later, bear.”

“See you soon, sweetheart.” Charlie kissed your cheek and went to the door, giving you a wave before exiting the room.

#agaypanic #charlie swan #charlie swan x reader #twilight #twilight x reader

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romanteacism · 15 days ago

Text

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Seven

Chapter Summary: If one refuses to speak the truth, then one must be willing to face the consequences of it. Word Count: 4,656 Warnings: Revalations, Lady Elinora and Prince Aemond Growing Closer, Daeron and Aemond Arguing, Aemond Screwing Up

Edward was reeling in suspicion. Ever since coming to the capitol, he knew the precautions that would have to be taken to protect his sister from the opposing gender. The lords were like bees, flying around in the gardens that Elinora frequented, waiting for the proper time to attack and take advantage of the unsuspecting flowers. The flower being his sister. Too innocent and naive that an insect shall come and take advantage of her good nature.

Edward did not expect that she, too, would attract a prince. The lords were hard enough to swat off, but at least they were in the same political position. No one higher than the other, but if it were a prince… Edward was perplexed about how to handle such situations. He cannot threaten them as he usually does; it would be treason to do so. He could not as well just blatantly pull away his sister because it would be bad manners to do so, and the crown may frown upon it. And he especially cannot make Elinora see reason.

It frightened him that his sister, who usually listened to all their orders, who believed all that they said and obeyed them, would not listen to his warnings when regarding Prince Aemond. He could not understand the hold he had on Elinora. His forever cautious and passive sister grew bolder as she spent moments with the One-Eyed Prince.

It began with the prince stealing glances, observing Elinora from above the gardens or the halls. Edward was already wary about such habits, but the knowledge he had that the prince was one to annoy and be callous around his sister was comforting. He often heard the disparaging words and passive insults the prince uttered towards his sisters, and as cruel as it sounded, he let it happen because he’d prefer the prince to be mean towards Elinora because it meant he had no interest in her and Elinora would never willingly place herself in such company. However, when the prince began to grow a tad kinder, with him dancing with Elinora to relieve her from the presence of Prince Aegon and the scene he saw of the two of them feeding the ducks and swans in the pond, fear burrowed itself in Edward.

And now, with him giving his sister gifts, he knew all of this must cease. Elinora need not utter who gave her the small kitten because Edward had already seen the prince retrieving the feline in the bushes. Having to battle with it because even the cat was warry enough to be frightened by the prince, something Edward could only hope Elinora would be as well.

“Brother, could you pass me the milk?” Elinora’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, his gaze afar as he sat with his sister in her chambers to break their fast. He had convinced Elinora to take their meal in the privacy of her chambers just to keep her away from the prince. But it would seem they could not escape him since he was in the presence of the kitten he gifted his sister as well as the flowers that were placed in an oriental vase that was placed between the two siblings.

Edward gave a silent nod and watched as his sister poured the pitcher of milk into a bottle that was usually used to feed babes, but she utilized it to feed her cat. “It’s not a babe, sister,” Edward sighed as Elinora cradled the cat in her arms. “Of course she is! A kitten is a baby cat, which my little Peony is,” She cooed and nuzzled her nose upon the cat’s head.

Edward sighed at how taken his sister was with the feline. He remembered that since Elinora was six, she had been begging them for a pet cat, which they neglected to give her for fear that the animal would cause her harm. “Do you think mother and father will approve?” He questioned as his sister lovingly gazed upon Peony, who drank the milk she fed her.

“I do not know… which is why I need your help to convince them, brother. Please— you know how much I’ve wanted a cat… and I know I’ve only had her for less than a day, but— but I already love her! I do not know what I would do if she were taken from me,” Elinora said and held her pet closer. “I do not know, sister… there’s a reason why they never gave you a cat— they fear that it might hurt you.” He reasoned as he settled further into his seat, watching as a disagreeing pout wanted to come to his sister’s lips. “But look at her! She’s so calm and precious— she’ll never hurt anyone!” She disagreed and showed off Peony further to her brother to let him be convinced by the adorableness of her pet.

“Please, brother, you can convince them! I know you could!” Elinora begged, moving to stand and move to her brother’s side to convince him further. “Please, Edward. You know how long I’ve wanted a cat… please don’t let them take her from me,” She pleaded, and as much he wanted to resist his sister’s request and her pleading, widened eyes, he could only sigh heavily and give a small nod. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Elinora exclaimed in joy.

“Where did you even get the cat?” Edward questioned, wanting to know what Elinora would say. He watched her turn her back for a moment as she returned to her seat, and when she sat before him once more, she kept her gaze upon Peony.

“I found her by my door,” She said softly as she ran her fingers through the white fur of her kitten. “What?” Edward questioned, wanting to catch his sister in a lie. “Yesterday, I thought I heard a sound by the hall, so I opened my door, and she was there, waiting for me,” Elinora explained as she raised her gaze. She was not lying, not really. Because when she lied, her hands would turn cold, and she could not keep her gaze from flying about the room. Elinora was simply withdrawing certain information from her brother to keep him from worrying.

Edward knew the telltale signs when his sister lied, and as she held his gaze, he was confused as to how Elinora seemingly told him the truth. He was certain that the kitten Prince Aemond was trying to capture and the one Elinora was holding was the same. It was obviously given to her by the prince because even though Elinora wished for a kitten, she would not go against their orders and acquire one for herself. It was confounding as to how Elinora was seemingly telling him the truth.

Had she learned how to lie? How had they corrupted her so quickly and easily that she found no remorse nor guilt as she told her brother falsehood? Or could it be that she told the truth? That it was just a simple coincidence?“See, it was fate, brother. She was meant for me,” Elinora smiled and placed a small kiss on her kitten’s head, and Edward could only nod. He wanted to believe his sister, but by what he had seen, he doubted her words as it would seem Prince Aemond had already had a hold of her.

Prince Aemond found Elinora by the pond again. It was nearing sundown, and he had been wondering where the girl had been the entire day. He had thought he would finally see her during the morning, seeing that Helaena had returned to her custom of breaking fast in the gardens, but Elinora did not arrive. He then thought she would need a few more moments to recover from what had transpired the other day, so he waited until noon to see if she would return for tea time. However, it was only him and his siblings. Even Daeron did not know where Elinora was, which surprisingly brought concern in the prince, a sensation he did not want to accept.

Even though it would seem he would not see Elinora that day, he still came to the pond in hopes that she’d be there, and thankfully, he did. Because now, Elinora was there, crouching before the edge of the pond with the kitten that Aemond acquired for her.

Aemond made fervent steps toward the girl, announcing himself by his reflection in the water again. He was ready for Elinora to once again grow surprised. Where he’d be able to hold her back, but to his surprise, Elinora only smiled, seeming to expect him already. “Good day, my prince,” She greeted as Aemond crouched next to her, a pouch filled with food for the birds between them.

“Helaena has been searching for you,” He stated, dipping his hand into the pouch of crumbs to join Elinora in feeding the birds. “Oh, they thought it best for me to stay in chambers and rest for the day… I’ve only just sneaked out to feed the ducks,” She explained and turned to her side to see if her feline had not wandered off. She took Peony into her hands and turned to Prince Aemond, just to see his gaze already upon her and her kitten.

“I am still yet to thank you, my prince,” She smiled as she stroked her pet's head. Aemond raised his brow, already imagining how this would turn out and what he would say to the girl. “I… I do not know what you speak of,” Aemond said, turning to the kitten who he had to chase around the gardens and bribe with a fillet of fish just for it to stop running away from him. The small, seemingly innocent-looking thing even managed to scratch him, the evidence of it hidden by the leather sleeves of his tunic.

Elinora frowned in confusion at the prince’s words, but she could spot a faint smirk wanting to break on his thin lips. “The kitten… in the basket— I named her Peony,” She explained and brought the cat closer to the prince, but she only fussed as she was brought closer to the prince. “I truly do not know what you speak of, Elinora. Are you feeling well?” Aemond continued on with his act, watching as Elinora’s face further morphed into confusion.

Elinora blinked rapidly, now doubting from whom the kitten came from. She was certain that it was from Prince Aemond, seeing he was the only one aside from her family who knew how much she adored cats, along with the note that came with the basket, it made her believe with certainty that it came from Prince Aemond. But his response made her rethink otherwise. “Then…” Elinora trailed, and Aemond bit his tongue. “Good day, Elinora. I have no idea where your kitten came from. Still, I am glad you finally have something you adore,” He stated as he stood, reluctantly leaving because he was about to break into a grin. He’d rather let Elinora continue to be confused and not confirm that Peony, the kitten, came from him.

“You look oddly happy… did you see Elinora?” Daeron teased as he passed his brother in the halls. Aemond had an air of lightness upon him that was not usually present. Daeron watched as Aemond paused and rolled his eye. “Be quiet, Daeron.” Aemond gritted, the amusement he felt now fading away. “Do not be so callous, brother— best remain in my good graces, I am the one who invited Elinora to our supper. Though seeing your foul mood, I think it’d be better if I rescind my invitation,” The youngest prince smirked, seeing at how quickly the scowl on his brother’s face faded.

“You invited her to our dinner?” Aemond questioned as he stepped closer to his brother. “Yes,” Daeron said proudly. “You… invited… Elinora,” He enunciated. “Yes. Are you slow today?” Daeron frowned. “You invited her to our dinner, and she willingly accepted?”

“Yes! How many times must I repeat myself?” Daeron asked. “You imbecile! You would subject her to the presence of Aegon? The rotting corpse of the king, as well as the presence of grandfather and mother? Why had you invited her?! She’ll only be privy as to how… how our family truly is!” Aemond exclaimed, staring widely at his brother, annoyed by his decision and the smirk that rose to his lips. “Are you scared of running her off?” Daeron laughed. “What does it matter? It’s not as if she’s marrying into our family— so what if she sees our true nature? Believe me, brother, Elinora is not one to pass on judgment and especially not one to gossip. It’ll be fine.” Daeron said and clapped his brother’s shoulder. “Now, go on and freshen up— you reek of sweat,” Daeron advised and quickly walked off as he feared his brother’s reaction.

“Are you certain that it is appropriate for me to be joining you in your familial supper?” Elinora asked as she walked with Daeron to the royal apartments. “Of course! Do not fret, Eli, mother insisted.” Daeron smiled and patted Elinora’s hand that rested on his arm. When they entered the hall, all were enveloped in their own quiet conversation, everyone not noticing their arrival except Prince Aemond, who had his eye tranced upon the door and suddenly stood when he caught sight of Elinora. Daeorn chewed on his cheek to prevent a laugh from escaping his lips at his brother’s action. He only leads Elinora to a seat between him and Aemond.

Aemond sat silently as the table greeted Elinora, all presenting small smiles to the girl, who had an unwavering grin on her lips. “Thank you for the invitation, my queen,” Elinora said softly as she turned in the queen’s direction. “Well, of course, I am glad your family could spare you this evening so that we might know you better… it would seem you have quite taken my children,” The queen smiled, and her words colored Elinora’s cheeks red.

“Is Ser Gwayne not to join us?” She whispered to Daeron, her head turned to her and Aemond waited patiently until her attention was pointed at him. “Uncle has some matters to tend to tonight,” He reasoned, and Elinora nodded in disappointment. “Prayer?” The queen asked, but she gave no room for protest. Elinora watched as the queen took hold of the hands of her daughter and father, and she felt as Prince Aemond took hers. Elinora glanced at the prince, his eye already shut and his lowered for prayer, and she followed suit.

Her hand is so soft. Aemond thought to himself as he held Elinora’s left hand, opening his right eye to peek at her. He had the urge to move his fingers to further feel the softness of her skin, but he resisted.

His hand is cold… is he well? Elinora thought to herself with each moment her hand was clasped around the prince. She had never felt hands as cold as his before, yet she somehow found it comforting. It was cold and rough, an accurate depiction of him. However, by some paradox, it was refreshing.

When the prayer ended, both hesitated to let go of each other’s hold, even if they knew they must. Elinora pursed her lips and reluctantly did so and turned to Daeron as she felt a blush creeping up to her cheeks once more. Aemond stared at his hand that once held Elinora, the usual coldness he harbored fading as Elinora passed on her warmness, even if he only held her for a short while.

As dinner commenced, there was a tense silence that was always present at the Targaryen-Hightower dinner. And for the first time, Aemond wished to be absolved of it. “What excellent boiled potatoes… we must commend the cook,” Daeron said, trying to cut the silence, and Elinora pushed around the food upon her plate, not used to the quietness around the dinner table. “Is it not the most excellent boiled potatoes you have had?” Daeron then asked Elinora, and she could only blink. “Yes… they’re quite good,” She answered, a bit confused at Daeron’s enthusiasm about potatoes.

When silence enveloped them once more, Daeron sighed and leaned back on his chair to catch a glimpse of his brother. Luckily, Elinora was so preoccupied with her meal that Daeron had the opportunity to take hold of a pea and throw it at his brother to garner his attention. When Daeron met Aemond’s lone, lilac eye, he silently motioned and signaled for him to speak with Elinora, not wanting his efforts to be wasted.

Aemond frowned at his brother, his eye glancing towards Elinora, who unknowingly ate her meal. Aemond returned to face forward, breathed in deeply, and thought of how to speak with the girl. He took a platter in his hands and thought it would be the easiest way to converse with the girl. He was about to offer her the dish, but his mouth turned dry, and his words were left unuttered. Luckily, Elinora noticed him and the purpose of his actions.

“No, thank you, my prince,” She smiled politely. She turned away because she knew if she looked too long in the prince’s eye, she would be held captive by his gaze. “Why?” Aemond asked. “Are you a fastidious eater? Do the dishes we serve not to your liking?” He asked a bit too harshly. Why could he not speak to her in a normal fashion? Why must he be callous even during the times he did not intend to be?

“Oh, no… it is just… I am allergic to shellfish, Your Highness. My throat closes, and I break into a rash when I consume it,” Elinora explained, eyes widening in slight fear that she might offend her hosts. “Oh,” was all Aemond could say, quickly placing the platter at the far side of the table as a precaution.

“Lady Elinora, I hear you are betrothed.” Queen Alicent suddenly spoke, the attention of the table turning to her. “You are?” The drunken Prince Aegon asked, surprised by the statement as he had been too distracted by his whores that his past curiosity about the girl faded. Along with the flews of threats his younger brother offered him, he was forced to let Elinora out of his sight.

“I am your majesty, your highness. Thought I must admit I am unaware of who my betrothed is,” She said and glanced at Daeron for a sense of comfort as she never grew accustomed to speaking about the matter of her betrothal. “Really? Why not?” The queen questioned, confused by such arrangements. “I do not know… my family believes it is best for me to be unaware of who my betrothed is for the time being.” She answered.

“Are you not at all curious? What if you are betrothed to an oaf? Or worse… a virgin,” Prince Aegon said, and Daeron and Aemond tensed at their brother’s words. Elinora, on the other hand, was rendered red at the prince’s words. “I…” she began to speak though she had no actual word of reply. “You need not answer it, Elinora.” Aemond quickly gritted and looked at his brother harshly. Aegon could only shrug, clueless as to why his words would garner such reactions.

“Apologies, Elinora… Aegon had quite a lot to drink,” The queen said, mortified by her firstborn. She knew how sheltered they had raised Elinora, how virtuous and chaste she was. Queen Alicent must admit she admired greatly the lengths her family had made to keep her as such, and she could not phantom the thought that one of her children would be the reason why Elinora’s purity would be sullied.

Thankfully, for the rest of the dinner, no word of the scandal was uttered, but instead, the table was enveloped in amusement as Elinora and Daeron shared their days in the Reach. It was rare for their dinners to have anything but tense silence, with the occasional scratching of silverware against the china.

Aemond had a ghost of a smile as Elinora and the others by the table watched as Daeron mimicked Lord Ormund Hightower, their grandsire’s brother. His years in Old Town had made him quite skilled in mimicking the lord. From the way he drank his wine to how he spoke and his little mannerism of slicking back the sparse hairs on his head, amusing the Lord's Hand greatly.

However, it was unfortunate as Elinora was then called by her father, the time proving to be too late for her to stay out of their sights. “Good night, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, my lord… thank you once again for inviting me to dinner,” Elinora smiled and curtsied before them as she stood from her seat. “Of course, Elinora.” The queen smiled, and all watched as the girl exited from the hall, taking away her lightness and enveloping the group in their usual break, quietness.

“She’s quite lovely… now I further understand why Daeron and brother are so fond of her,” the queen stated as she removed the napkin from her lap. “Yes… though it is a shame she is betrothed to a bastard,” The lord's hand suddenly spoke. “What,” Daeron asked, surprised by his grandfather’s statement. Daeron glanced at Aemond, his brother unmoving as he doubted what he had heard. “Lady Elinora, she’s engaged to a bastard,” He repeated. “Father,” Queen Alicent called, “What do you mean?” Aemond finally spoke, his hand tightening upon the chalice in his hold.

“She is betrothed to Prince Jacaerys.” The hand clarified, and all were rendered with silence. Questions and confusion consume their thoughts. How was that even possible? “Is he not set to marry Prince Daemon’s eldest daughter?” Daeron questioned, “Baela,” Helaena suddenly spoke. “Yes, Baela.” The princess’ youngest brother nodded.

“There are rumors of it, yes. But on paper, he is bound to Lady Elinora.” Aemond felt the scar on his cheek throbbed at his grandsire’s words. He was confounded and outraged by the newest discovery, but he could not make any reactions, for it would reveal his true interest in the girl.

“Oh gods, she is betrothed to a virgin.” Aegon breathed out, the eldest prince clearly not aware of the concern of those around the table. “But why?” Daeron asked, he pried further because he knew Aemond would not. “Why? Look at him! No one would willingly bed that bas—“ Aegon spoke even if the question was not pointed towards him. “Aegon!” The queen chastised.

“Well, I know it to be a political marriage… since then, Princess Rhaenyra has been weary of who shall keep their oaths. And so, she betrothed her eldest son to Lady Elinora Tyrell, seeing her father is Lord Paramount of the Reach. She wanted to secure their loyalties.” The hand explained. It was a notable action taken by the princess, especially because Old Town is positioned in the Reach; she thought it would garner her more allies and, in consequence, lessen and surround the Hightowers.

Otto turned to his youngest grandson, the prince turning pale as he was overly close to the lady. “Do not fret; I have made measures to ensure that no marriage and alliegences shall happen.” The hand said in satisfaction, a small smirk on his aging lips. “What does that mean?” Aemond finally spoke, unable to resist his curiosity. “Well, when the proposal was made, the king was too sickly to sign the declaration, and as hand, I was made to oversee such farce… but I have shaded the name of Prince Jacaerys, and legally, it makes the betrothal null and void.” The hand explained.

“And I had as well spoken to Lord and Lady Tyrell… rest assured, their loyalties lay with us— especially when they had considered the closeness of their children with Prince Daeron,” He added, and Aemond glanced towards his younger brother whose concern began to fade. Daeron did not know much of Jacaerys, but he feared for Elinora if she was betrothed to him. He was a bastard, his station already in peril due to his circumstances, and if he was married to Elinora, he should compromise her as well. And if his half-sister ever ascended the throne by some miracle, it would mean Elinora would be queen. A station she is too kind and fragile to have.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Daeron asked delicately as he walked with his brother to their chambers. “About what, Daeron?” Aemond asked, tone overly cold. “About what we learned at dinner?” Daeron said, now uncertain if he should have spoken as he heard his brother’s tone. “There is nothing to speak of, Daeron,” Aemond said bitterly. “Really? But… we just learned who is the betrothed of the girl you hold attraction for,”

Aemond clenched his jaw at the reminder of his emotions. “It does not matter,” He said, tone final so his brother would stop pestering him. “Does not matter? Grandfather had just said that their betrothal is a hoax! You, my brother, have a chance!” Daeron smiled, thinking Aemond would be thrilled by such new outcomes.

“I do not care!” Aemond almost yelled, frustrated by his brother pestering him when he had not even organized what he was feeling. “The attraction I hold for her, if there is truly any, is minuscule! She is just a novelty! A… a passing fancy— whatever you believe I feel shall be quick to fade.” He said in great frustration.

Daeron was greatly taken aback by his brother’s sudden outburst. “Then what do you feel? Why have you been following her around? Why are you suddenly… tolerable when she is in your presence? If you hold no affection, what is it then?” Daeron questioned, voice growing louder as his protectiveness over Elinora was shining through. Aemond was rendered silent at his brother’s questions as he, too, was not certain what he felt. “If not affection, then what? Lust?” Daeron spat.

Aemond dug his nails into his palms, fist clenched tightly, and if he had less control of himself, he would have punched his brother. “Yes. Perhaps.” Aemond gritted, even if he had known before that what he felt for Elinora was not lust. Bodily whims or urges did not lead to his attraction; in some paradoxical way, his wanting was pure. He had only agreed to his brother’s statement, which was just to shut him up and leave him alone.

Daeron felt his fists turn cold, his nostrils flare, and his body grow tense. He searched for answers in his brother’s eye, but he could not decipher anything in Aemond’s lilac orb. “I really wish you had not said that,” Daeron said lowly. He was not a violent person; he did not enjoy inflicting pain, but at this moment, he wished to hurt his brother.

“Stay away from Elinora, Aemond. You might be the best warrior here, but do not underestimate me for I, Edward, and uncle will face you if you step a foot out of bounds. I have pried away lords from her for years… and I would not hesitate to do it once more.” Daeron said bitterly.

“I foolishly thought you different, brother. This is why I encouraged you both… I thought you wanted her for her— I finally thought that you should be the one with the noblest and purest of intentions— but you are simply just like the others who wish to sully and take advantage of her… Stay away from Elinora, Aemond. I mean it. I will not hesitate to tell her family of all I have seen and all that you have said. And believe me, you would not wish for it.” Daeron warned seethingly, gaze overly serious as he walked off, leaving his brother, who unfortunately said words he did not mean.

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa @summerposie @emerald-jade1

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da-rulah · 1 year ago

Text

Come Home to Me - Secondo x f!reader

Summary: No one ever thought to question why Papa Emeritus II was such a bitter man. People assumed it was a product of his upbringing, of the pressures being an Emeritus brought him. But they had no idea that years ago, he was a completely different man. A man that you so easily fell in love with...

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 10.3k (can I EVER write anything short?)

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST. jealous themes, themes of abandonment, poor childhood, mentions of alcohol addiction, domestic fights, anger, hurt, mild violence, bad break-up, description of panic attack, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

Secondo doesn't get anxious.

At least, that's what people would think to look at him; the burly, scary, angry looking Papa who would practically glide through the hallways of the Ministry he headed. And to look at him now, today, people wouldn't suggest anxiety be the baseline emotion for him either. But it certainly was; masked by a particularly foul mood, but it was definitely anxiety.

Because he'd just heard from his elder brother, that you were returning to the Ministry.

It had been years since he'd seen you; he'd been a Cardinal then. He'd always been a hardened man, bitter from his childhood of neglect and abuse at the hands of his deadbeat father, but... you had been the softness to balance him out. Until he'd fucked that all up, as he was always destined to do. He always knew his fiery temper would fuck him over someday.

And he'd been right....

8 Years Ago.

"You can't go," he told you firmly, no hint at all that he was willing to compromise on this.

"Secondo, please..." you tried to reason with him, "I have to! This is my job!"

Secondo chewed on the inside of his cheek, shaking his head as he looked down at his gloved fingers picking wool bobbles from his cassock. He stood awkwardly across from you in his quarters, letting you hover near the door as if you weren't welcome in here. The atmosphere felt cold, frosty even.

"You know, it's really rather telling that you would rather go swanning off on some tiny little tour of Europe with mio fratello than stay by my side," he rages, "This new little project of his is bound to fail, you know. It did for our father, it will for him."

Frankly, you were dumbfounded by the idea he thought you'd prefer to spend time with Primo than him. Of course you didn't, but you had no choice. Your job at Primo's side was an important one and not exactly negotiable. Secondo had never mentioned any form of jealousy before now, so why on earth would he bring that up if not just out of sheer spite?

"Ah, your silence says all. You know what? Go. Go ahead. But do not expect me to wait for you, Sorella."

"W-what... what do you mean?" you asked, tears welling up in your eyes.

"You want to disappear for months on end with Primo? Fine. But I have needs, and I cannot be expected to wait for your return. I will not become some idiota with blue balls because his girlfriend is too busy fucking his fratello in another country."

"You really think... what the fuck is wrong with you?!" you shrieked. How dare he. "Secondo, if you loved me at all you wouldn't even think of doing such a thing. And you'd trust me enough to know I would never!"

Secondo scoffed, turning in his place and heading towards the small liquor cabinet he kept in the corner of the living space. He wrenched open the door and pulled out a bottle of whiskey along with a tumbler, and poured himself a small drink.

You stood and watched him, tears now silently trickling from your eyes. You couldn't understand why he was reacting like this. You'd been happily in a relationship for almost ten years, celebrated so much together. But ever since he became a Cardinal, he'd been overworked, stretched thin by the clergy and reminded consistently that he was only second best to his eldest brother. Secondo by name, Secondo by nature, he had confided in you numerous times. He had a bitter side to him, you knew that. It had been present his entire life, a product of a neglectful childhood.

But he'd never, not once, projected that side onto you. Until becoming a Cardinal, slowly imploding on himself at the weight of the pressure put on him.

"It's one way to establish yourself, I'll give you that. Quicker than sleeping with a mere Cardinal, eh?" he chuckled, devoid of humour and instead laced with venom. Had he... really just insinuated that?

"You don't mean that."

"Do I not?" he asked, arching an eyebrow with a vile smirk. He quickly necked the drink in his hand, hissing at the burn of it down his throat that he'd come to relish more and more lately. He was soon pouring himself another.

"My job requires me on this tour. It's eight weeks, Secondo. That's all. Sister Imperator said-"

You were interrupted by a sudden smash - Secondo had thrown his half full glass against the far wall of his living space. It splintered into shards, leaving a splatter against the fading wallpaper. You felt droplets of it hit your arm, a few splinters of glass reaching too without harm. You flinched naturally anyway, both at the sudden noise and the feeling on your skin.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IMPERATOR SAID! IF YOU LOVED ME AS YOU SAY YOU DO, YOU WOULD STAY WITH ME. BY MY SIDE. NOT HIS!" he screamed, storming towards you and grabbing your arms by your sides. You stiffened in fear - he'd never laid a hand on you before. "You say you love me, and yet, you abandon me."

"N-no... I'm not-" you were shaking in his grasp, your eyes wide and words failing you.

"If you go, I will never forgive you."

You stared at him, your reddened eyes wide with fear and desperation. You were stuck... You had to go, you had no choice. Being fired from your job would mean the end of your residency at the Ministry and you would lose everything. But go, and you lose Secondo.

He was overreacting, and you weren't sure why. Did he truly believe you were trying to sleep your way to a top seat within the clergy? Did he really think you'd run off with Primo, given the chance?

"I... I love you..." you whimpered, voice shaking and quiet as your lip trembled. His piercing monochrome eyes searched yours, waiting for you to tell him you'd stay. But you couldn't. The Ghost Project needed you, and Primo needed you. You had no choice, but he couldn't see it that way.

Without a word, he shoved you backwards, letting you stumble to keep your balance as he stepped back, picking up the open bottle of whiskey from where he'd left it.

"Just go," he snarled, taking a drink from the bottle, before storming into his bedroom and slamming the door, your body jolting from the sound as you stood and broke down on the spot.

Not going, you would lose everything. But going... you had lost him.

Those eight weeks on the road were hell - and not the Hell you had been promised.

Secondo hadn't spoken a word to you after you'd told him you were going. Your relationship was over the second he slammed that bedroom door. You spent any down time you had hiding from the world, crying into the last scrap of his clothing you had snuck from his things that still smelled like him.

You would wonder constantly what had changed in him, why suddenly he couldn't see past his bitterness and had thought so little of you. He had ignored your phone calls, your letters... He had stewed in his anger and his growing alcohol dependency, buried his sorrows in anyone who would consent, and driven himself into the ground until his younger brother, Terzo, had decided enough was enough and harshly forced him to face his reality.

But it was too late.

As soon as you had come back from your first tour with The Ghost Project, you had put a request in for a transfer to an Abbey across the country. You had been hurt too badly, the thought of having to see Secondo in the halls, leading sermons, hosting seminars had burned in your chest. Primo had tried to talk you out of it, but your mind was made up and solidified only by the look of dismissal Secondo gave you when he'd seen your face for the first time during Mass.

The grief you felt was not only for your relationship, but the man you once knew and loved so deeply. He wasn't him anymore; and you couldn't watch him live in indifference while you were so incredibly heartbroken.

Within a week of your request, you were packed up and on a bus to a much smaller, more quaint Abbey in the midwest, where you would help to lead a congregation as a Sister of elevated importance.

Over time, your wounds healed. You dated, albeit in brief stints. You devoted yourself to the church and rose in the ranks of your own volition - not because you had opened your legs to a Papa or higher ranking clergy member, as had been predicted by your former lover.

You were doing well, focussed on you and your congregation.

Secondo, however, had never been the same since you left.

As if he wasn't already an angry and bitter man, he became insufferable in the years following your departure. Sure enough, Terzo's intervention had managed to quell the alcoholism, but it had done nothing for the anger that consistently simmered at surface level at his father, his brothers, his childhood... but mostly at himself.

He'd never been able to forgive himself for the way he had treated you; the only good thing he had ever had in his life, and he managed to torture you slowly, like a child plucking the wings from a butterfly before delivering the final blow. Even when he'd seen you for the first time after the tour, he couldn't look you in the eye.

Then he'd never seen you again.

Now that Primo had told him you were coming back, your latest promotion to the highest ranking sibling beneath Sister Imperator herself bringing you back to the Ministry and the headquarters of the Satanic Church, he was petrified.

He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. Given the option, he'd abdicate from his position with immediate effect and live out the remainder of his days in a cabin in the Italian Apennines. But that wasn't an option, and he had to face this.

He had to face you.

Sister Imperator had called a meeting of the higher Clergy to welcome you back, and to explain your place in the Ministry to those you'd be working closely with. That included Papa Secondo.

Papa.

When you'd first heard that news, you couldn't help the small smile that had tugged at your lips. He'd always wanted that title, always deserved it. You were happy for him, glad to see that he was where he rightfully should be.

But when you saw him for the first time in that meeting room, sat in his chair at the head of the table, that happiness had dissipated. Fear and dread had filled you, a pain in your chest you thought you'd got over long ago. But the scowl on his face told you the feelings he had toward you were still just anger, spite, bitterness. And no matter how much time you'd had to heal, that scar still pulsated and burned in you.

You remained professional, hardened much like Imperator. You had to be. If you showed him how weak he still made you feel, your authority might be brought into question. You'd worked too hard for that.

As the meeting adjourned, the table got up to leave and you along with it, until you heard his deep and commanding voice from the end of the table.

"Sorella _______, I ask you stay for a moment."

You froze, too frightened too look back at him, too weak to tell him no. Primo and Terzo, who had both been sat on the opposite side of the table to you, shared a look that read as 'oh, shit...' before their glares fell on their brother. Secondo ignored them, shooing the rest of the clergy out of the doors.

Nobody said a word, simply leaving quickly and quietly until you were alone with Papa.

A moment of silence passed between you both; Secondo had so much he wished to say to you, so many apologies and regrets he'd practised so often in the last eight years but they all vanished when your eyes fell on his. He saw the fear in them; it reminded him of that night.

"I... It's... You look well."

That was it? That was all he could say to you?

You drew in a deep breath, allowing yourself a second of composure before clasping your hands together in front of you and masking your disappointment and hurt with a business-like demeanour.

"As do you."

"How have you been?" he asks, although it's cold and merely to fill a silence.

"Busy. Yourself?" you mimic his tone; you'd rather be anywhere but here right now.

"Troppo (me too)."

You nodded. "Congratulations. 'Papa'... what you always wanted," you forced a smile, gesturing at the robes and mitre he adorned.

"Ah, sí, sí..." he kicked at the titles at his feet, shuffling as he stared down at them awkwardly. "Sorella, I-"

"It was good to see you, Papa," his head snapped up at the use of his title, it sounding foreign and wrong coming from you. "Now if you'll excuse me..." you dismissed yourself, bowing your head to him slightly and gathering your notebook and pen before making your way out of the meeting room. Secondo stared after you, lost with his apology he'd finally found and mustered up the courage to deliver still dangling from the tip of his tongue.

Re-familiarising yourself with the Ministry's halls was hardly needed as you traipsed through them late into the evening. But that had just been an excuse...

In fact, what you were truly doing was torturing yourself with the ghosts of a past life. It was as if you could see them, plain as day; the ghostly figures of a young and fresh faced Sister of Sin with a smile that beamed so bright, and of a young Bishop, his face free of deep set wrinkles and the permanent scowl the world knew today.

They run through the halls ahead of you, hand in hand. Her laughter bounces from the stone walls as he tries to shush her, stifling his own laughs and the grin across his face. You followed them, chasing the memory through the halls.

Rounding the corner, they stop outside of a door. The young Bishop pulls the Sister close to him, tumbling back into the doorframe with a thud and another string of stifled giggles. His palm caresses her cheek, a look of pure adoration in his mismatched eyes before he leans in, pressing his lips to hers as she melts into his embrace against the door.

He reaches behind him, turning the doorknob and the two spectres disappear through the wood, the door remaining closed and leaving you alone in the empty corridor.

You kept staring after them, tears heavy and building in your waterline. Your hands trembled at your sides, a nauseous feeling settling in your stomach as you remembered so clearly the night those ghosts ran through the halls together, spending their first night alone and in each other's arms in secret.

From what you knew, he still lived in the same suite. The door you stared at still belonged to him, and the likelihood was he was in there right now.

A part of you ached to talk to him. You wanted to know what had changed him all those years ago, still craving answers to questions long since forgotten. But part of you knew it was a conversation not worth having; after all, what good would it do now?

Footsteps echoed from the opposite end of the end hall, stomping on the stone as they drew closer. You ducked behind the corner, barely peeking from your hiding spot as Secondo drew closer to his quarters, that scowl still etched onto his face when he pulled his keys from a pocket beneath his robes. Before unlocking the door, he hesitated, pressing his forehead to the wood and shutting his eyes to take a deep breath.

You allowed yourself a better view, peering out from the corner to take in the look of exhaustion, of sadness on his features as he leaned against his door. Pain seared through your chest, flashbacks of that exact expression from years ago flooding your memory, from times where the world would get on top of him and threaten to crush his shoulders with the weight they added.

You were the only thing that could comfort him then. Nothing else would work – you wondered what he did these days to ease the ache. Little did you know, nothing could.

He’d mask it well, yes, and attempt to bury it deep down beneath layers of a personality that wasn’t totally his, but the fact remained he was still just so sad beneath it all.

Secondo straightened himself up with a deep breath, and pushed the key into the door turning to unlock it. You sighed quietly to yourself and turned to leave out of sight, but Secondo stiffened, his head whipping around to the corner where he caught the back of your head as you turned. He’d heard that sigh, known who it belonged to instantly.

“________?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d have expected, like anything above a whisper would have you darting down the corridor never to be seen again.

You froze in place, aware he can now see you but unable to move. You don’t want to face him. You don’t want to run from him.

“Wait, don’t... don’t go,” he whispered; something he wishes he’d said to you the day you’d left the Ministry instead of hiding in a pit of his own self-loathing and self-pity. He thinks you’re going to run; but you can’t. You’re just... stuck.

He doesn’t know what to do, just staring at the back of your head as his heart rate raises and his breath quickens. He’s panicking; he knows that. He’d learned what a panic attack was in the days after you’d left the Ministry; like a heart attack.

You heard him behind you, the sound of his panic as words failed him. Your head whipped around to see him stood there, clutching his robes over his chest as he stared wide eyed at you. You’d never seen him like this, and it frightened you.

“S-Secondo? Are you... are you alright?” you asked, rushing to his side on instinct, yet stopping yourself just a few feet away from him with your hands outstretched. You weren’t sure if you should touch him, if you should cross the boundary that not only he, but you had put up so long ago.

“C-can’t... can’t breathe...” he panted, leaning against the stone doorway and squeezing his eyes shut.

Get him inside, make him comfortable, your inner voice told you. You looked to the side, seeing his keys still dangling in the lock and turned them for him, pushing open the door to an empty and cold apartment that sent such a wave of nostalgia through you it could have knocked you clean onto your ass. But you shook it off, reaching for Secondo’s shoulder and gently guiding him through the door.

“Sit down,” you instructed softly, reaching for the light switch behind you, your arm working on muscle memory alone. You didn’t have to think about it, no time in the current predicament. Secondo stumbled to the couch, sitting down with a thump and leaning back into the pillows while you shut the door and made your way over to the kitchen.

Reaching for the cupboard you knew had glasses in – nothing had been changed since the day you’d left – you picked one out to fill with water, then coming down to his level and kneel at his feet to remove any feel of intimidation standing before him would have brought.

“Secondo, hey...” you caught his attention, his white eye opening to look at you through his lashes. “Can you sit up for me?”

He took in a deep lungful of breath and sat himself upright, his forearms coming to rest on his knees as he hunched over. His breathing was erratic – some deep and long, some short and staccato. He was trying desperately to regain control, to not come across as weak in front of you but he feared you being in front of him was truly the reason he was so breathless.

He always did used to say you took his breath away...

“Here, drink.” You held up the glass in front of him. He stared at it for a moment, his eyes still wide and panicked. “Papa, please...”

“Don’t... D-don't call... me that...” he told you, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded tired, mostly, between the panicked breaths. You chose not to argue for the time being.

“I’m sorry... Still, drink. It'll help,” you promised, raising the glass again.

He took it from you, gulping a third of the glass down and swallowing with a loud exhale. The irregular pattern calmed considerably, the cold of the water cooling the heat that had risen to his face and chest in his panic.

“Good... See? It helps. Now just... breathe with me, okay? Copy what I do,” you told him, taking in a deep breath and counting to four in your head as you did so. He copied you, no questions asked, no arguments; just breathing in as you did. After four, you slowly began to exhale, counting to eight this time. He copied you again, his exhale a little shaky as if his lungs were clawing at his exhale, trying desperately to hold it in.

You repeated the pattern a few times, holding eye contact the whole time. He seemed to be searching for something in your face, any hint of hatred, anger, resentment... but nothing. His panic eased when all he found was concern, and the same softness he remembered so fondly. Able to find no negativity in your expression, he could relax and give your breathing technique the room to work and calm him down.

“Mi dispiace. I... I don’t know what came over me,” he says, embarrassment and sadness in his tone. He wanted to hide again, staring down at the glass in his hands instead of at you, sitting quietly and awkwardly on your knees in front of him.

“No, it’s... fine. I’m just glad you’re alright,” you smile awkwardly, shuffling back and standing, dusting the non-existent dust from your knees. “I’ll see myself out,” you said, turning around to leave, “Just rest for the eveni-”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your eyes focussed on the wall by the front door.

The wallpaper had never been changed in all those years, the colour of the pattern worn and yet, there were small rips in the paper, tiny grooves carved into the wall and a very distinctive faded brown stain.

Your eyes zeroed in on it immediately. It wasn’t particularly large, or even that dark against the wallpaper but you couldn’t help but notice, and your chest tightened.

“Ah, I uh... have been meaning to redecorate,” Secondo chuckled from the couch behind you, with no humour at all. His tone was different to earlier that day in the meeting room; that cold indifference had vanished, as if the curtain had fallen and his mask had dropped. He was too weak to put up a front, too tired of playing the resentful scary Papa character.

You turned to look at him, a slight look of pity mixed with something akin to longing that he tried to ignore for his own sanity. It would do him no good to delude himself into thinking you might have missed him as much as he had missed you in the last eight years.

“But then... I suppose it served as a reminder,” he shrugs, averting your gaze and taking another sip of water where he sat.

“Of what?” you asked, fragility to your voice. Secondo sighed, meeting your eyes again.

“The biggest mistake I ever made.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between you, his eyes watching you closely as you shuffled in your spot.

“Do you... get panic attacks often?” you asked, trying to divert attention away from that conversation. You weren’t sure if you were ready to have that just yet, if ever. Why cut into a healed scar?

“Not anymore, but... I used to. After you left,” he said matter-of-fact, no hint of accusation at all. “It used to start as shortness of breath like this,” he waved his hand in the air to illustrate his point, “but eventually, I suppose, I had to learn to breathe without you.”

Tears welled in your waterline, and you had to look down at the toes of your boots to flush them away.

“I’m truly, so incredibly sorry, amore mio...” he whispered, willing you to look at him, to hear him finally say what he’s wanted to for years.

“W-we don’t have to... do this...” you stuttered, holding back a sob as a tear fell to the floor where you stared at your feet. Hearing him call you that again... If you weren’t careful, it would consume you. Secondo didn’t miss your tear, his chest tightening when it hit the floor.

“No, per favore... Let me say this, I need to get this out,” he begs, standing to move towards you, his hands outstretched like he wanted to take yours in them, to hold onto you as he apologised. You whipped your hands from in front of you and took several steps back.

“That’s not fair,” you scolded, “you need to get this out? What, to clear your conscience? So you can feel better?” you accused. Your anger wasn’t unwarranted, he knew that. But he could see how much what he’d done had affected you – still affected you. The guilt ate him alive. It would always eat him alive, no matter how many times he apologised.

“No, I just... I didn’t want to hurt you, I want to make it right!” he pleaded. You shook your head with a smile at his audacity.

“Make it right? Now? After eight years?” you scoffed.

“Well okay if I can’t make it right, just... bearable. Per favore, amore mio!” The nickname slipped from his lips without thought; it still felt natural to him. You were still his ‘love’ after all – you never stopped being that. But hearing it again for the second time that evening was like the venomous sting of a scorpion’s tail to your heart.

“Stop calling me that, you lost that right,” you cried, having to bite your tongue from unleashing all of your anger, all of your hurt on him.

“I... I know. Mi scusi...” he quietened his voice, looking down at his hands in shame. His shift in demeanour stunned you into silence, your chest heaving with uneven breaths as you calmed yourself from the point of near-eruption. “You should be angry at me.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “Thank you for your permission,” you spat.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked, looking up to meet your eyes finally. His looked strained, tired. Even disguised by the paint, he seemed weary and frail. “Can I say anything at all?”

You mulled it over in your mind, running in circles. Was there anything he could say? Would you listen to anything right now, or were you too riled up to care about his excuses? The younger you, the you who loved him so deeply all those years ago was dying to get the answers she craved. She reached out to you from your past life, desperate for closure, just to understand no matter what those answers were.

“You can tell me why.”

Secondo’s brow furrowed. “W-why?”

He seemed scared, like he hadn’t expected this but how could he not? What was the point in him apologising if neither he nor you knew why he was apologising, what his 'sorry’ was for?

“Yes. Tell me why. Tell me why you suddenly thought so little of me, that you genuinely believed I would try to sleep my way to the top. Tell me why you were so adamant I was choosing your brother over you. Tell me why you turned into a bitter and twisted shell of the cardinal I adored. Tell me why you chose the bottle over me when you came home at night. Tell me why you ever doubted how completely, soul-destroyingly in-fucking-love with you I was!” you screamed at him, getting louder and louder with each passing syllable and pointing an accusatory finger at him as tears of rage freely flowed down your cheeks.

“Because it was easier!” he yelled back, meeting your gaze, “It was easier than watching you leave with him! I was jealous, sí, because everybody always chose Primo. Ever since I became a Cardinal, I was told that was as far as I could go, that was it for me! Primo was the golden boy, he was Papa, he was going to find a wife, have a kid and that kid would be Papa and where would that leave me? Cast aside, again, as always! Fuck, even Terzo got more attention for his damn looks than I ever got for my hard work, my devotion!”

You shrugged and stared at him incredulously as he yelled. “Why was any of that my fault?” you screeched.

“B-because you... you were choosing him too!” his chest heaved, and for the first time ever you saw tears in his eyes too, glinting off the light of the room. “I needed you, ______. You were the only one who saw me for who I was, and you chose him too!”

You tried to protest in anger, shaking your head and taking a step towards him to defend yourself but he continued before you got the chance.

“Nihil... he always said I would never be Primo. But as Cardinal, I was expected to do everything for him. I lived in his shadow every... fucking... day. It drove me mad...” he looked up at the ceiling as he screamed through grit teeth, trying to let gravity defy the building tears, “And then Papa was to go on tour again, to bring back the Ghost project and perform for thousands of adoring followers and I was to sit here and wait for the only person I’ve ever loved to forget me and fall for him like the rest of the masses...” He was sobbing in anger now, forgetting the fight against the onslaught of waterworks and giving in to the pain he felt.

“I never... I never thought you slept with him. Not really,” he admitted. “But I was told over and over it was only a matter of time... And I believed them. So, you ask me why? Because it was easier to believe you had already fallen under his spell and remove myself from the equation, than to watch it happen while I was still by your side.”

You were stunned into silence, watching the man you believed for the last eight years had become void of emotion spill every single one he’d buried spill from him. He’d never told you any of this, not once expressed any resentment to his elder brother. And Nihil... you wanted to ring that old man’s neck.

“I just... I got lost, amore. The more I drank, the worse it got. The bigger the disappointment,” he’d stopped shouting at you, his voice strained and quiet, “You started to hate me, and I took it as proof of my suspicions that you would someday leave. And then when you did...” his voice cracked, the words sticking in his throat. He sank to sit on the edge of the couch, defeated and weak. He removed his mitre and held his head in his hands, quietly sobbing with cloudy black tears from his makeup dripping to the floor.

You stood awkwardly playing with your fingers, wiping your own tears away with the back of your hand as they fell. Your lip trembled holding back a breakdown. Now, you were beginning to understand the weight of the responsibility he’d bared back then, of the pain of his dismissal and rejection throughout his life. It still hurt you deeply that he couldn’t see past it to know you would never have chosen anyone over him – but at least you understood.

“Terzo got me clean after you left,” he said, sniffling and raising his head but still unable to look you in the eye. Instead, his gaze focussed in on the corner of the room, at where the liquor cabinet used to sit. You followed his eyes and noticed it wasn’t there anymore, now an empty corner he’d never filled with anything else. “But it took a long time. I knew what I’d done, but... I didn’t want to face it. I’ve been so angry at myself, amore. Angry at everyone, but never at you.” He looked you in the eye then, “it was never your fault.”

“No, non è vero, fottuto idiota, (no, it wasn’t, you fucking idiot,)” you seethed, taking a deep breath and shaking your head. Secondo chuckled humourlessly. Oh, how he’d missed you scolding him in Italian.

“Sí, sí... fottuto idiota,” he sighed, dragging his palms down his face and smearing his tears with his paints. He looked down at his gloves, smeared with grey stains where the white mixed with the black, and he chuckled again. “Sono un disastro, no? (I am a mess, no?)” he said, holding his hands up briefly for you to see the mess before he removed both gloves, dropping them to the couch beside him. You scoffed again, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips; but you hid it from him, looking down at your feet again. “In more ways than one, I have always been a mess. But it was never your job to clean that mess up.”

“Didn’t stop me from wanting to,” you told him. You looked up again, now that the almost-smile had faded, “I loved you more than you ever realised.”

Secondo nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. “My biggest regret is not seeing that at the time. I’ll never know love like that again...”

You tilted your head to the side in pity, scanning the man before you who looked and sounded so much more broken than you could have imagined. You had no idea this was affecting him still to this day, no clue that the angry persona you’d left behind hadn’t just created a bitter old man who’d forgotten what he was bitter at – he was, in fact, bitter and angry toward himself. He’d never forgiven himself.

But how could he? How could he ever forgive himself for what he’d put you through, for treating you like he did. He was disgusted by himself, but in true Emeritus fashion, he didn’t know how to deal with his emotions, and it spiralled out of control. This was his personality now, a figurehead to be terrified and intimidated by.

You remembered how he could be though. Those figures you followed through the halls earlier that evening, that had guided you back to Secondo’s front door just when he’d needed you; they reminded you, however painfully, that there was a time when he was happy. Both of you were so happy.

“Do you remember the first night I spent here?” you asked him after a few moments of silence, raising your arms to hug at yourself, enveloping yourself in a protective shield in case this train of thought went terribly awry and you needed your defences up.

Secondo looked up at you, his brow furrowing in confusion. You continued, giving yourself no time to back out of your train of thought, and no time for him to reply.

“Sister Imperator had almost caught us in the gardens. We were making out, behind one of the bushes when we heard her heels on the cobbles...” you laughed. Your smile was so beautiful to him still, just like all those years ago when you’d met eighteen years ago. It infected him, tugging at the corners of his own lips as he smirked and let his mind wonder back to that night.

“Sí, I had hair...” he chuckled.

“We ran... we just, ran...” you sighed, smile widening as you took a small step towards him. “You dragged me through the halls until we stopped hearing her heels.”

“The old bat could never have kept up with us.”

“No...” you laughed. “You kept shushing me, as if you weren’t the one making me laugh.”

“As much as I enjoyed your laughter, amore, you were going to blow our cover,” he teased. “I believe I had no choice but to silence you... if memory serves me.” His smile faltered as he remembered that kiss in his doorway, leading you inside his quarters for the first time, spending the night entangled in and bewitched by everything you.

What would he give to kiss you again? What would he sacrifice for a chance to hold you in his arms one more time?

Everything. Anything.

“Eighteen years passed by so quickly,” you sighed. “I always thought I would spend the rest of my years with you...”

“Sí... anche me... (yes... me too...) I took you for granted, amore mio- oh...” he caught himself, a sinking feeling in his chest, “Mi scusi... I must stop calling you that.”

Guilt settled in your stomach for the way you’d scolded him for that earlier. Truthfully, you desperately wanted him to never stop calling you that.

“You... you don’t have to... stop, I mean,” you stuttered, twiddling your fingers and avoiding his eyes. When you did look up at him through your lashes, you saw the look of confusion in his features, and the faint flicker of hope in his eyes.

“But... I thought you said-?”

“Y-yeah I did, I just... I was angry,” you shrugged, folding your arms protectively again, as if literally shielding your heart.

“Are you not angry now?” he asked gingerly, gently ‘poking the bear’ as it were.

“Yes... No... I am, but...” you stopped yourself, sighing and dropping your arms by your sides in exasperation. “I want to be. I want to be so angry at you. I want to hate you and scream at you. Hell, I’d punch you if I could but...”

He stood then, taking a step forward. “But what, amore...?” You met his eyes, biting your lip as he took another small, yet significant, step towards you. Could you say it? Were you brave enough?

“If I’m angry, it’s because I still care, isn’t it?” you asked rhetorically, “I’m angry because... because I still love you.”

Time stood still for Secondo. His heart pounded in his ears, his chest tightening at the admission that you – sweet, wonderful you – still loved him, despite the hell he had put you through.

He acted on impulse, no coherent thought process registering. Closing the distance between you, he pulled you to him by your waist, desperately pressing his lips to yours. As if you had expected it, you immediately melted in his hold, your eyes fading shut and lips encapsulating his in submission. You were tired of hating him, tired of being angry. Being honest with yourself, you had only ever wanted to be in his arms again since that night he told you to leave.

Finally, here you were.

His bare hands grasped at the fabric of your habit like he was clinging for life, dangling over a gorge only you could pull him up from. You felt much the same, your fists balled in his robes pulling him to you by his chest. Your lips fit together as they always had, moving in nostalgic synchronicity. You felt alive again, synapses in your brain firing in every which way and alighting the spark you’d let dim to nothing but an ember until now.

Secondo pressed his forehead to yours when he parted from you, his eyes remaining shut while he coped with the racing of his heart. It wasn’t until he raised one of his hands to cup your cheek that he realised your cheeks were wet with fresh tears.

“Amore...” he breathes, tickling your lips below his, “I have loved you every single day of the last eighteen years...”

You don’t bother holding back the sob that jumps from your chest – you couldn’t if you tried. Secondo’s thumb swept over your cheek, wiping away the tears as he shushed you gently. Your fists, balled so tight in his robes, had started to shake as your bottom lip did.

“I-I’m scared, Secondo... If I let you in again, I-I couldn’t... couldn’t handle losing you again,” you wept.

“No, no no no amore mio, I wouldn’t be so foolish. Not again. Per favore, credimi... ti amo (Please, believe me... I love you,” he begged.

“Sí, credo che tu, (yes, I believe you,)” you told him, your lips finding his once again and fists pulling him impossibly close to you. He huffed a sigh of relief into the kiss, his fingertips ghosting over your jawline gently despite the desperate nature of the act.

You tilted your head to reach a more comfortable angle; one where you could run your tongue along his bottom lip, begging for progression. He submitted with no hesitation, allowing entry with a low hum from deep within his ribcage. The hand around your waist squeezed at your hip as your kiss deepened to desperation.

Breathlessly you pulled apart from him. “This is where I’m supposed to be,” you told him firmly with a sob, slamming your fist to his chest, “this is home.”

“Sí, amore,” he gripped your wrist, holding your fist tightly against him, “come home to me.”

You crumbled then, your knees buckling as you wept into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, giving in to his own sobs as he held you upright. He pressed his lips to your forehead, peppering kisses across your face wherever he could reach until finally he found your lips once again.

Truly, his arms did feel like home. You hadn’t felt so complete ever since the last time he’d held you, an emptiness you’d tried to fill with work and frivolous relationships but nothing and no one could ever fill the void he’d left. Now you were home, you wouldn’t dare let go again.

You’d never kissed anybody so desperately in all your life, bruisingly desperate in fact. Your lips pressed and moulded together so hard, it was bordering on painful – yet nothing could have been more painful than the last eight years. No, you needed this. You needed him.

“Take me to bed, Secondo...” you mumbled into his lips. Secondo stilled, his hands coming to sit at your waist and pushing you back; not even half a step away from him, yet you already missed the warmth of his chest along with the rhythmic thumping of his heart.

“Amore, I don’t wish to rush you...” he spoke cautiously, his eyes scanning your face. “We don’t have to go there tonight...”

There he was; for a split second, you could have sworn you saw a glimmer of the man you’d fallen in love with eighteen years ago... His paints vanished, his deep-set wrinkles smoothing out, his hair tucked and poking out from beneath his Bishop’s biretta. That same kindness, that care and cautiousness of the night he first brought you to his quarters...

He’d said the same to you then, ever so chivalrous at all times but you knew then as you knew now – you were ready. You needed him.

Slowly, you raised your palm to his cheek, noting the strange feeling of his paint-covered skin on your fingertips. You traced the lines where the white met the black, smudged together in places where his tears had streaked down his face. It amazed you how much the years had aged him, what the stress had done to him and yet, he was just as handsome to you as the day you’d met.

“I think we’ve both waited long enough, caro,” you smiled, relishing in the way his brow softened, and his eyes glinted with happiness. He brought his hand to yours, holding it in place as he turned his head to press kisses to your palm. He laced his fingers with yours turning to the direction of his bedroom and leading the way. Once inside, Secondo took a step away from you.

“Un momento, amore. There is something I must do...” he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, letting go before he stepped into the bathroom to the left. You could hear the faucet squeaking as he turned it, the unmistakable rush of water hitting the porcelain sink below.

In his absence, you couldn’t help the way your gaze wondered as you remembered the details around you. The furniture remained unchanged but worn slightly with age, the shine of the dark wood not as prevalent as it had been. The bookshelf in the corner was still covered in tiny knick-knacks and ornaments, some of which you had bought him. One still sat on his nightstand; a small statue of Baphomet depicted as he traditionally was. On the other nightstand – the side that used to be yours – sat the same deep green glass vase you remembered, all the shine gone as it sat empty and covered in a layer of dust.

That vase used to never sit empty, fresh flowers in it constantly. Secondo made a point of it, always replacing the flowers before they could wilt too much with different varieties all the time. He loved how it would make you smile, how you would bury your nose in the petals to smell the latest additions. Seeing it sat so sad and empty stung a little, but you understood.

So enthralled in your journey down memory lane, you didn’t notice the end to the running water next door, nor the footsteps of the man coming to stand with his chest to your back as one arm snaked around your waist, the other tilting your chin up to look back at him so he could press his lips back to yours again.

You turned in his arms, sinking into another slow and passionate kiss. When you raised your palms to his cheeks, you distinctly felt the smooth skin now void of the greasy and smeared paints. This was how you remembered him; not with the full skull paint and certainly not smeared with tears and despair. He removed his paints for that very reason.

Secondo removed your veil from your head, letting your hair fall around your face in that beautiful way he always loved. Within seconds his fingers were threading their way through your roots while his other hand held you tightly to him by your hips. It was all too easy to lose yourself to his kiss, quickly becoming more needy as time ticked by.

He made sure to move at your pace, though. It wasn’t until you started to undo his shirt buttons – his robe removed and folded in the bathroom moments ago already – that he even attempted to undo the zipper at the back of your habit. It wasn’t until you kicked off your boots that he did the same to his loafers. It wasn’t until your hands scrambled for the belt around his hips that he let it slip from your shoulders and pool at your feet. It wasn’t until he was stripped bare by your frantic hands that he allowed himself to unclasp your bra and drag it down your arms, followed by your panties that hit the floor with the rest of the hastily removed garments.

He was too frightened you would startle easily, realise what you were doing and suddenly slap yourself with the reality that you still hadn’t forgiven him, and run off feeling embarrassed and angry. He needed to give you the space to run safely, if you needed to.

But as you had already told him – you were going nowhere. He was certain of that now.

Now completely exposed to each other, there was nowhere to hide. The warmth of his bare skin under your palms sent a thrill through your body, already responding to the way his fingertips dug into the meat of your hips as he kissed you with a new fervour.

With your hands cradling his jawline, you stepped backwards, bringing him with you until you were able to sit on the edge of his bed, shuffling back while he crawled over you. It was too easy not to separate your kiss from each other, in tune with one another enough that you could move as one. You felt the pillows behind you, laying back and bringing him with you as he settled between your thighs.

Already, you could feel him pressing against your core. You ached for him, desperate to have him. It was as if there were pulses of arousal flowing through your body and accumulating at your core, where heat had begun to pool.

As much as Secondo wanted to dive in, to take you as he once had so many times, he knew this was not a moment to rush. Instead, he focussed his efforts on trailing his lips down your jawline, following the curves down your neck and collarbone as his palm kneaded at your breast opposite his mouth. Slowly, he savoured the velvet smoothness of your skin on his tongue, taking your nipple into his mouth while your back arched up into him in pleasure and anticipation.

Secondo had missed these little noises you would make. The mewls and whimpers as he brought you to the brink of desperation; he adored them. If he himself hadn’t missed you the way he did, he could spend hours working you up to release. Another time though, perhaps. If you would want another...

The hand that kneaded at your other breast snaked its way down between the two of you where his length was resting against you at the inner junction of your leg and hip. He allowed his fingertips to brush over himself only for a moment, before he dragged his middle finger through your glistening folds and circled your clit once, twice...

You gasped under him, hips chasing the high and in turn grinding into his hardness which earned a deep moan from him against your breast. He could feel you were ready for more, drifting his finger to your entrance and starting with just one as he pushed inside, feeling your warmth envelope his digit. His cock twitched against you at the feel, like a silent plea to be buried inside you. All you could do was hold him against you, an arm around his waist and one around the back of his head forcing him flush against your body.

From the way you rolled your hips against his finger that slowly but surely curled over and over inside you, Secondo knew you needed more, and so alongside his middle finger, he slid his ring finger too. The way he curled them both inside you had your eyes rolling back in your head – he always was good with his hands, and just as he could then, he could read you like an open book, reciting verses of pleasure and passion from your pages.

He began to move them inside you, readying you for him. As the seconds ticked on, his need to sheath himself inside you grew increasingly hard to ignore, his hips grinding into you from above. His lips found yours again, abandoning your breast in his frenzy to be close to you.

He overtook your senses; all you could do was see him, hear him, smell him, feel him, taste him. You decided in an instant that was all you wanted for the rest of eternity. Just him.

You needed more of him, all of him, and so you lifted your legs from the mattress, spreading your thighs wider in a way of presenting yourself to him to hopefully, finally, fill you with more than just his fingers. Secondo growled against your lips, his resolve crumbling. His hand slipped from inside you and instead came to grip the back of your thigh, pressing it back to give him the room to easily slide his member through your folds, effortlessly catching his tip on your entrance so that slowly, maddeningly, he could push himself into you.

For a moment, neither of you could focus on anything other than that feeling; of filling you, of being filled. Both of your jaws went slack, moans spilling from your lips and mingling in the millimetres between you. When Secondo was fully enveloped in your heat, his forehead met yours while he gathered some form of composure. He could feel his chest tightening, the wounds of the last eight years stitching themselves back up. He let out a sob through gritted teeth, and whilst you too were completely enthralled in the overwhelm of emotions, it was all you could do to console him in that moment.

“I-I’m here, caro. I’m right here,” you reassured him, your fingers tracing patterns across the nape of his neck. He had to take several heavy, deep breaths that puffed his cheeks up on the exhale each time before he could even bare to look you in the eye. When he did, he found nothing but love in them, your irises swimming with it.

“Ti amo, amore mio...” he repeated, his voice cracking with emotion. You smiled at him, such softness in your features as a prickle of tears glistened in your eyes.

“I love you too, caro.” You always had. You pulled him to you for another kiss, quickly falling under his spell once again. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him as his hips started to sluggishly roll against yours, dragging his length through your heat achingly slow. Both of you needed to savour that feeling, one you had missed out on for so long.

As your tongues danced together, so too did your hips, meeting in the middle as the two of you picked up a comfortable pace, effortlessly working together to drag the groans and whimpers from the other.

Neither of you were under any illusion that this would last particularly long, despite dragging it out to relish it at first. But the longer you stayed banded together, the harder it was not to give in to the pleasure, to that familiar heat coiling in both of your abdomens.

Secondo squeezed the underside of your thigh as his cock twitched and kicked inside you, begging for a release he was trying too hard to stave off. Your walls fluttered around him, rippling and sending jolts of electricity through you. Your bodies worked together, keying into a frequency you had only ever been able to register together. Nothing and nobody else had ever come close to understanding either of you. It was the two of you; it was always supposed to be.

“A-ah!” you cried against his lips, squeezing your eyes shut while your body dangled over the edge of a sensational orgasm. “S-Secondo...”

“Ooh, say that again, amore. Let me hear you...” you asked, ready to let go at the sound of his name from your lips once more.

With a few more thrusts you gathered the strength you needed, opening your eyes to meet his beautifully mismatched ones and holding his cheek as you moaned his name one more time for him.

“Secondo...”

That was it for him. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried, his cock spilling inside you and his thrusts becoming erratic. You could feel him inside you, length pulsing and warmth spreading that triggered an almighty break in your body, orgasm ripping its way through you. The shouts of pleasure the two of you made together sounded like a symphony to your ears, and the both of you gripped onto each other for dear life as if this were a dream, and you might wake up at any moment.

But neither of you disappeared; no puffs of smoke, no fading into the darkness. You stayed in each other's arms, coming down form your highs and catching your breaths while the weight of the world seemed to drift from your shoulders. That baggage you’d been carrying for years, the pain and hurt... it didn’t exist in that moment.

You weren’t kidding yourself into thinking that everything was perfect, and you could instantly go back to playing happy families with Secondo; not at all. But that moment? That was perfect. It offered you a relief of your woes that you’d needed for so long. And now, instead of bottling up your emotions, the two of you could begin to heal. Really heal.

It would take a lot of work, probably some shaky moments; hell, maybe even some therapy for the both of you but for the first time in eight years, you felt peace.

Home. This was home.

A sliver of golden sunlight shifted slowly down the wall as the sun rose outside, pouring in between the curtains that hadn’t been drawn completely closed the night before. Eventually, it hit your eyes like a blindfold, waking you with a squint and a grumble as you flipped onto your other side to avoid it.

The white spots in your vision cleared after a few moments, and you found yourself staring at a bed that wasn’t yours. At least, not anymore. It once had been, shared with the love of your life.

And yet, he was nowhere to be seen, the sheets on his side wrinkled and haphazardly strewn aside. You sat up slowly, wiping the sleep from your eyes and holding the deep green sheets against your bare body. Even the bathroom door was wide open, no sign of him at all.

For a moment you almost convinced yourself last night had never happened, but even you couldn’t deny the evidence of being sat completely nude in Secondo’s bedroom. Perhaps he’d had second thoughts about what had transpired. Maybe it was too much too soon.

It wasn’t until you looked around at the room and your tired eyes fell upon your nightstand – or at least, the nightstand that was once yours – that you relaxed, a warmth spilling through your chest and raising goosebumps on your skin.

Your vase shined in the sunlight, newly polished and casting a green imprint on the wall behind it. Inside it, a fresh bouquet of queen of the night tulips with splashes of white jasmine offsetting the deep purple. You could smell the jasmine from where you sat, a favourite scent of yours.

Secondo regretted nothing of last night. He, much like you, saw that as your fresh start – as fresh as the bouquet before you. He felt the same relief as you did, the same hope for some kind of future together.

Staring at the flowers, a smile spread over your lips you couldn’t contain. Part of you knew why that vase had sat untouched and empty since your departure. Secondo bringing it back to life again the moment you came back to him was all the reassurance you needed that you were welcomed home with open arms.

“Primo will be angry when he sees the stalks in his garden,” Secondo chuckled, breaking the silence as he leaned against the doorframe looking devilishly handsome with his skull paint fresh and crisp, his black shirt tucked into his slacks and cinched with a belt. His arms were folded over his chest, sleeves rolled up to the elbow. A smirk played on his face, enjoying the look of shock in your features when your head whipped around at his sudden voice.

“You didn’t...” you scolded playfully.

“Oh, I did amore...” he smiled, pushing off from the doorframe and coming to sit on the end of the bed in front of you. “Let him be mad. He will understand in time.”

A comfortable silence settled over you as he lifted his hand to brush your bed hair from your cheek.

“You were always most beautiful like this, dolcezza,” he spoke dreamily, taking you in in the morning sun, wrapped in his sheets with messed hair and a bare face. Your eyes fluttered shut, chasing the feeling of his fingertips. You let yourself enjoy the blissful silence for a moment, but one of you had to break it eventually.

“We’ll need to work on this, Secondo. All that time... we can’t erase it in one night,” you told him, bringing your knees up to rest your arms and chin on shyly.

“Sí, sí, quite right. It’s only a start, amore. I will prove things are different, te lo prometto (I promise).”

“I don’t doubt you, my love,” you smiled, reaching out for his shirt collar and pulling him gently to meet your lips in a soft, gentle kiss to seal his promise.

A promise you knew he would fight both heaven and hell to keep.

Major thanks to @her-satanic-wiles for beta reading once again! There's no tag list for this one since this is a request from two people that got out of hand... I hope, dear anons, you enjoyed this!

#the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #ghost the band #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #papa emeritus #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii x reader #secondo #secondo x reader #secondo smut #papa secondo #papa secondo smut #papa ii #papa emeritus ii smut #papa emeritus smut

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tokyo-1842 · 2 months ago

Note

Heyo, could you write a oneshot with Sanji and a reader who he thinks is a man? Reader actually dressed like a man and deepens their voice, they used to do it as a defense mechanism on their home island but they've made it a habit and haven't found the right time to break the news to their friends. Maybe after a rough fight, Reader has very bad injuries and Sanji has to take her to Chopper and realizes Reader is a woman,, you can add whatever storyline you want after that, I'm so sorry my brain ain't braining rn and I really liked your Luffy one shot with the kitsune reader 🫶🏽

(AINT GOTTA TELL ME TWICEEEE)

Sanji x F!Reader

——————————————————————————

Sanji x F!Reader who dresses like a boy!, a little suggestive, reader gets hurt, smallll Angst, THATSS ALL FOLKS.

——————————————————————————

Long ago before joining the Strawhat Pirates. You dressed up as a man to stay safe on your island. Slowly became a habit. It kept you safe from horrible people but over time it just…became a part of you.

That habit affected your life on the seas. You see, the crew had different awareness’s and opinions of your Identity.

Some just didn’t care, like Luffy and Chopper because you’re one of the straw-hats who cares about gender! (Aww). Some knew like Nami and Robin. But one didn’t know at all which was Sanji.

To be frank you didn’t really care and only got a little jealous of the princess treatment the other ladies get from time to time.

Ok you really cared because it wasn’t fair they got ice cream while you’re working your BUTT OFF. But not to the point where it caused you to reveal your self as a woman.

So now all of the unfair treatment brings us to here.

“We are going on a trip with our favorite cool looking ship! Zooming through the seas!” Usopp and Luffy sung together, hold each other’s shoulders. They laughed and made up songs. Making your trip to the market place of the island insufferable. “Ughhhhhh….” You groaned rubbing your face. “Why did I have to come…” you muttered. “Because it’s your guy’s turn to restock! Maybe control your pal Luffy because eventually, we’ll go so hungry the ship will be eaten.”

The cook inhaled smoke from a cigarette and exhaled. “Speaking of restock, we are going to spilt up. First of all” “Sanji.” “Not now Y/N, Usopp and Luffy will get essentials-“ “Sanjiii…” “Me and you will get food-“

“SANJI THEYRE GONE!” You shouted.

…

“shit.”

“Dammit! We can never have a normal day with those two!” Sanji gritted his teeth as you two wandered around a marketplace. “Maybe they are at a food stall.” You said. “They better fucking be or else I’ll-“ “language!” You shouted.

BOOM!

“The marines! Pirates!” A woman shouted as she ran. “Hurry!” A man screamed. Many people ran and stores were being closed.

You and Sanji stood and watched the chaos. “I guess we gotta cut the shopping trip short..ugh..”

“Take their heads DONT let them get away!”A marine officer headed straight for the pair.

The fight was pretty easy. Just when the last few men stood Sanji dropped some items when blocking a hit. “Leave it!” You yelled annoyed. “No way! This is for Nami-Swan!”

He turned around to pick it up, now the cook was in the open and a marine soilder swung.

“SANJI!”

SLICE

Silence fell as you landed on the ground. Sanji turned in horror as he looked at you bloodied body on the floor. “Y/N..”

You were too tired to see what had happened but you know those marines regretted it. Sanji was carrying you back to Chopper. His heart was pounding, thoughts running through is head. The blonde reached Chopper’s infirmary and demanded immediate attention.

Luckily the injuries weren’t that bad and you only passed out from shock. It was a cut right under your chest.(I couldn’t write on your chest bc i felt the pain😭) The crew was relieved, you were told to stay in bed by Chopper since the wound could reopen. Everyone visited then Sanji came in to bring you food last.

“Y/N dinners here.” The cook muttered and place it on the table next to you.

The blankets moved as you stirred awake and sat up, showing the bandages on your body. They covered the upper half of your torso and wrapped nicely around your (tatas🤯)

Sanji jaw dropped as he gawked at your features, eyes going lower and lower. Your eyes, your facial shape, your (melons), your waist. “Y/N-chan, you’re a GIRL!! So HOT!” You blushed, his eyes turned into hearts as he swirled.

“But that means…oh…IM SO SORRY Y/N-SWANN! HOW COULD I TREAT YOU LIKE SUCH A MONSTER IM SO SORRY I ASSUMED YOU WERE A-“ Bonk! “CAN IT MORON!” Nami screamed. “but!-“ Bonk! “Y/N! Are you really ok with him knowing?” The orange hair woman asked concerned. “It’s fine with me…” “I WANNA KNOW WHATS UNDERNEATH!” “shut UP!” Bonk!

After a good beating from the Navigator you were chatting with the cook at around 11pm.

“Say..Y/N swan, why do you dress up as a man? You’re so beautiful this way!” He inquired. “Well, it’s just a habit. I did this a lot for safety in my home island” You answered. “Who could make my precious Y/N swan feel unsafe to the point of hiding her beauty!? I’ll kill-“ “It fine Sanji!” You giggled and he melted into a dumb love sick smile.

“Im so sorry for letting my guard down back there! I should have thought first.” Vinsmoke held your hands and stared into your eyes with sorrow. A gentle hand was placed on his cheek. “It’s ok I mean, im alive aren’t I? That’s all that matters.” He blushed.

“Now I think we should come up with a punishment for Usopp and Luffy for causing this mess right?” You smirked devilishly.

“OH Y/N-SWAN YOUR SO CUTE WHEN YOU MISCHIEVOUS!~~~” The cook yelled at the top of his lungs.

“GET A ROOM!” Zoro shouted from the Crows nest.

“SHUT UP!” Nami screamed.

“FOOD!?” Luffy shrieked.

“SUPPPPERRRRRR!!!!” Franky bellowed.

“This calls for a song YOHOHO!” Brooked howled

“NOOO!!” Nami yelled in anger and disbelief.

——————————————————————————

I WASNT SURE IF U WANTED IT TO BE ACTUALLY DATING LOWKEY SOO- PHEW THAT WAS A LOAD I JUST KEPT ON WRITING AND WRITING TY FOR THE REQUEST ASK AGAIN ANYTIME!!!!

some gifs :)

HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT :3

#fanfic #one piece #black leg sanji #sanji x reader

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imyourbratzdoll · 9 months ago

Note

Can you please make a part 2 to "I can be a better boyfriend than him" and can you elaborate on what the green monster is towards the reader please and thank you I really love this short drabble🩶

hello! so, this turned out longer than I expected, and I hope you enjoy it, thank you for requesting this! also, I forgot it was green-eyed monster and not green monster when it comes to jealousy haha.

part 2 of i can be a better boyfriend than him.

summary - ever since you met rosalie, you had felt this pull toward her. but when she stopped speaking to you, it was as though a part of you became obsessed. will she ever be yours or will you stay broken?

warning - lots of angst, swearing, bad thoughts towards self, thoughts of breaking up a relationship, jealousy, some fluff though.

the gif I use isn't mine and divider by @newlips

It had been a week since you got caught staring at Rosalie, your mind was going crazy, it would go from how beautiful she was to how to get rid of her boyfriend, wondering how important he is to her to how you’d never be good enough for her. Even though you’d die for her, it felt as though you were in over your head.

After that day, it seemed as though the Cullen/Hales were watching you, waiting for you to try something. You blink, coming out of your thoughts when you hear her laugh, your eyes slowly drift over, skipping past the many golden eyes that watch you and land on her. Aphrodite herself in the arms of Hercules, her smile beams up at him as he holds her, whispering in her ear, probably smelling her unique scent of vanilla and strawberries that only she could pull off. You can feel your heart twist and squeeze before shattering into your stomach, your throat closes up and your mouth becomes dry as you stop breathing.

You feel the familiar green-eyed monster creeping beneath your skin, your very own jealousy. The thing that makes you think you could take Emmett in a fight to get to his girlfriend. A laugh breaks you out of your stare, this time closer. You turn slightly and look up, your mouth opens and closes, brows furrowing as you see who is standing beside you. Next to you is Edward Cullen and for some reason you feel as though he’s laughing at you or something you’ve said. But you hadn’t spoken, had you? Did you let slip of your slight obsession with his adoptive sister? No one could’ve figured it out, everyone stared at the Cullen/Hales, it wasn’t news to them. So how did he know?

You huff, cheeks puffing out as frustration seeps in next to your neverending jealousy. “What are you laughing at, Cullen?” It didn’t take a genius or an empath to know people were staring at the two of you with jealousy (an emotion you knew so well), envy, curiosity and more as none of the Cullen/Hales talked to people outside of their family, let alone laugh with at them, well with the exception of Bella Swan of course. The woman so bland that it seemed to attract the weird. They weren’t your thoughts but things you picked up from around the other students.

“If you stare any harder, she might burst into flames.” You sigh.

“Not my fault your sister looks like a goddess. It’s a good thing you are all adopted because no one would believe she’d be related to you. Your face is even an insult to dog shit.” Edwards brows furrow, head whipping your way so fast that you’d think he’d break his own neck. His mouth opens but before he can give a comeback, a booming laugh fills the hall and your head turns, seeing Emmett on the floor laughing with one hand on his chest and the other slapping his knee so hard you feel he might end up breaking it. The others seem to laugh more quietly, you’d be confused thinking that they somehow heard you from all the way over there if you weren’t so captivated by Rosalie’s smile, her eyes trained on you in a lighter way. Something you hadn’t seen since her first day. Her smile is so beautiful.

“Well, that was rude.” Edward once again breaks your thoughts as he mutters with a frown on his face.

Your eyes flicker between Rosalie and Emmett, a question on your mind. “Are her and Emmett serious?” They had to give it to you, you had the guts even when you didn’t know they could all hear you.

Edward raises a brow. “They are, our parents already love him.” Your eyes roll.

“You’d hope so or they’d be asking for a refund.” You were already looking in their direction so you didn’t miss Emmett’s offended face or the fact the other three were now laughing at him. Could they hear you from all the way over there? You turn with the serious look still on your face. “You think your parents will adopt me? I’d be a great daughter, I cook, I don’t clean though, but I can pretend. I can be quiet, mostly because I’m hoping my mouth will be kept busy.” He chokes, you don’t know what on. Maybe air dick? He chokes again. Definitely air dick. Another choke, couldn’t he at least get a room? You stare annoyed as he interrupts with his noises. “Excuse me, I’m trying to give myself a good review to pass onto your parents, so stop choking on Casper’s dick and be quiet. Now.” You clap your hands together. “When should I start calling them mum and dad?”

Edward focuses on your thoughts, trying to see if you were serious. All he’s met with is Rosalie and wanting to be loved. Through his annoyance, he decides to let you down harshly. “Y/n, I’m sorry but Rosalie is happy with Emmett and she’s never going to end it with him for someone like you. You’d have better luck finding someone in your league at a Dollar Store.”

From across the hall, Jasper could feel your emotions, even though you don’t need to be an empath to know how you felt as Edward said those words. Speaking of the crystal ball, he tries to read your mind again wanting to know if you were finally going to let whatever this is for his sister go. His brows furrow even more than they were before, confused as to why he suddenly hears nothing. It was as though you had shut yourself off completely. Not even allowing your own thoughts into your head.

You blink, nodding to the wake up call. “Okay” They can hear it in your voice, you sounded like someone who was just told they’d never achieve their dream because they weren’t good enough and in this situation Rosalie was your dream and you were never going to be good enough for her. This was only one of the worst things that could’ve happened, not only did you finally realise that your crush knew you liked her but her family had stepped in and basically told you that your feelings don’t even matter, no. The worst was the fact that all of the students stuck around because they wanted to see what a Cullen wanted with you.

They heard everything, they heard about your crush on the woman, they heard that her family didn’t approve and that she’s happy with Emmett, they heard the harsh words poured onto you like a cold bucket of water. They heard EVERY word.

Reality finally sets in as you take in the situation around you. Not wanting to give anyone anything, you straighten your back with your head held high and you turn, walking past the Cullen/Hales without a glance. Deep down Rosalie would always have your heart even though you could never have hers. The confusing part was you don’t know why you felt so strongly about her, it wasn’t like you two spent time together. The only memory you have of talking to her was when they first moved to Forks.

The town was buzzing with gossip about a new family moving here. You had heard snippets of the family, but you weren’t that interested in partaking in gossip. You yawned as your first class was about to begin, your notebook and pen lying in front of you on the table. The door to the classroom opened and gasps were heard, followed by the room erupting in chatter. You kept your head down, just wanting to get this day over with so you could go home and try to sleep your life away.

“It’s a pleasure to have you in Forks, Miss Hale. Please take a seat next to Miss L/n.” You heard your last name, causing your brows to furrow. There were many open seats, why did you have to be chosen to sit with the new kid? “Miss L/n. Please raise your hand so Miss Hale can find her seat.” You don’t bother looking up, your hand raises, hearing a quick thank you from the teacher. It felt like the universe was trying to bring you together.

It was as though everyone had stopped breathing as she walked toward the back of the room, all you could hear were the click of heels before a body slid gracefully into the seat beside you. “Alright, look up front please! I’d like to start this lesson without any disruptions.” The students immediately took their eyes off the woman beside you, turning their attention to their teacher. “Thank you.”

You open your notebook before hearing a slight huff to your left. You ignore it, hoping that whatever was the issue that they wouldn’t need you. You weren’t a people person, you didn’t really have friends because you liked to keep to yourself. Maybe that’s what made you two the perfect match, your mutual dislike for people.

“Excuse me.” You hear a soft elegant voice and you grow confused as to why your heart has started beating so rapidly. You push the odd feeling away as you turn, only to be met with the most gorgeous woman you have ever seen. You hold back from widening your eyes, knowing that she’s probably gotten that everywhere she goes and is possibly sick of the attention– You didn’t know that she thrived on attention, on being the most beautiful woman in the room. Sure she wasn’t particularly that fond of the male gaze as she once was, but she knew she was stronger now and enjoyed every bit of attention she could get. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I seem to have forgotten my pen and I was wondering if you had a spare one that I could borrow?”

You nod but in your mind you wonder who forgets their pen? Neither of you knew that a certain pixie-sized seer had something to do with it. You reach into your bag and pull out another pen and hand it over. You watched as her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around it.

“Thank you.” She smiles and you begin to wonder if you were dreaming because no one could look this perfect. Rosalie tucks her hair behind her ear, holding out her hand. “I am Rosalie. Rosalie Hale.”

Before you can stop yourself, you find your hand in hers. The cold not bothering you like it would others, “I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.” After you introduced yourself, it seemed as though everything fell into place. The empty feeling you used to feel in your chest is now gone and replaced with warmth and a pull. You both spent the majority of the class talking as if you had known each other for your whole life. When the bell rang and she said goodbye, you didn’t know that would be the last conversation you were ever going to have with her.

You walked out of class, heading to your next one when voices stopped you. “Did you meet her?! Did you?! Do you like her?!” A hushed squeal comes out of someone, claps could be heard from their hands and shoes bouncing off of the ground.

“Yes, I met her. Why are you so excited about this, Alice? You know how I feel about humans.” The voice you recognised as Rosalie’s responded.

Alice lets out a huff. “You’re mates, that’s why! Didn’t you feel the pull? You’ve been waiting forever to find yours. Why aren’t you as happy?”

“Mates?! I can’t be mates with that! She is human, innocent! She can’t live this life, she can’t be cursed.” Rosalie responds so harshly, it was as though her words were knives. “You will not meddle at all, do you hear me? I will even go as far as making it seem like Emmett and I are together and in love.” She growls and that’s the end of it, you hear footsteps echo throughout the hall as she walks off. Rosalie didn’t know that the minute she spoke to you, the mate bond activated within you. Spreading throughout your body and making you unable to forget or move on from her. You would say that would be the reason you had become so obsessed.

You pull yourself out of that memory. After that day, she stopped talking to you. She moved seats, became cold. The only thing that made you know that you weren’t going crazy into thinking if you two speaking on her first day was real or not was your pen. It was the only evidence, the only thing keeping your belief alive as you’d watch her twirl it between her fingers or write notes down with her flawless handwriting.

A few weeks later the couple had graduated, which meant you could finally breathe. Even though whenever you heard her name your heart would break a little. It was a relief that you could go to school without having to force yourself not to look at her.

After a few months everything slowly got better, people no longer talked about you and because of that you finally decided to eat in the cafeteria again. Thankfully, everyone was now focused on Bella Swan and how she had run off to Italy to be with Edward. People theorized that they eloped or she was pregnant. But she was only gone for three days so unless it was some weird hybrid baby that theory was crossed off immediately. You should probably send her a fruit basket as a thank you for getting the attention off of you.

You grabbed some food and took a seat in a corner, away from everyone but that didn’t stop you from hearing whispers of a graduation party being thrown at the Cullen house and hosted by Alice Cullen. Apparently everyone was invited but you weren’t going to go. It would be too weird, you’d feel like a stalker and you were sure that Mr and Mrs Cullen would kick you out from what their children could’ve said about you. You were so tuned into your thoughts that you didn't notice a tiny person sitting next to you, followed by her boyfriend.

“Hi!” A pixie-like voice broke you from your thoughts, causing your brows to furrow as you looked between Alice and Jasper. What was with the Cullens breaking you from your thoughts? It was like they couldn’t allow you to think for too long. Maybe she knew something you didn’t.

“Hi?” You reply in question. You weren’t that special to have any of these god-like people talk to you. So why were they? Were they going to pull a Carrie on you and drench you in pig's blood? Were they going to make you think that they liked you before turning around and laughing in your face?

“I wanted to personally invite you to my graduation party and before you say no, please know that none of us think ill of you. I have a feeling we are going to be sisters!” She said it so surely, like she had seen it. You sat there speechless for a few seconds, mouth slightly open at what she said. “Please at least consider!” Alice reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. “Here is our address, in case you decide to come.” She places the paper into your hands, closing your fingers around it and giving your hand a soft pat.

You didn’t even see her write it down, she had it stuffed in her pocket like she had prepared for this to happen. As if knowing what you would decide. “Bye!” Before you can utter a word, she and Jasper disappear. You stare at the piece of paper, gulping.

Your graduation came by the end of the week, a sad moment as you stared out into the crowd and no one stood, clapped or cheered for you when you received your diploma. You were truly alone, never seeing the golden eyes watching from outside, cheering you on silently that only her siblings could hear. Your head lowers and you walk off the stage, not even waiting for the ceremony to be finished. You head straight home, still wondering if you should go to this party since you’d probably be alone either way.

The worst kind of loneliness is when you are surrounded by people but you feel alone.

A few hours go by and by now the party has started, you’ve been having an internal battle with yourself. Your eyes drift over to a dress you had bought ages ago with only one woman in mind but you never got the chance to wear it. It just hung there, collecting dust. With a little push to yourself, you get up from your bed, what’s the worst that could happen? You quickly shower and make yourself smell amazing with some of your favourite lotions and perfume.

You slip into the dress, the material hugging your figure perfectly. You wore black tights underneath and a thick jacket with fur elegantly coming out of the holes. You head over to your mirror and apply a small amount of make-up, swiping a bold red lipstick against your plump lips. You straighten and stare at yourself, judging all of your flaws and you sigh. No matter how much you tried, you’d never be pretty enough. With a shake of your head, your soft styled curls brush against your cheeks.

You walk over to your knee high boots and slip them on, once you grab everything you need you leave, locking the door behind you. You get into your car and take off, driving to the Cullen house, trying to push all of your feelings away. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as you pull into their driveway, thanking whoever decided to build here for putting the large car space. From inside your car you can hear the music thumping, lights flashing and people hanging around and dancing. You turn your car off and step out, beginning to walk toward the house. Your eyes move around as you check out the place.

“Y/n! You made it!” You barely have time to register who it is as a tiny figure flies towards you and pulls you into a tight hug. Alice pulls back slightly and looks down, checking out your outfit. “Oh my god! This dress is beautiful! You look gorgeous!” She squeals, bouncing on her feet and thankfully not letting slip that she had already seen and knew who else would enjoy it. “Come, come! Some of us are hanging out in a different area of the party.” You look at her kind of shocked. Alice pulls you by your hand, the cold didn’t bother you. “Oh! Sorry, I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to be around the bigger, wilder crowd.”

You nod, appreciating the gesture. “Thank you.” You both arrive in a lounge room that was decorated the same as the other section where the party continues on. The only difference was there were fewer people, meaning you could move and breathe freely.

“Look who finally arrived!” Emmett yells, a large grin on his face.

“Hello, I hope I’m not too late.” Your hands lock together as you smile, but it feels so forced. You were so busy pushing all of your emotions back that you forgot how to act.

“You’re fine! Sit, sit! You’re right on time!” Emmett replies, so friendly that you feel as though you walked into a trap. Was this where they would kill you? “Don’t worry, we don’t bite.” It seemed like you missed the joke when a few of them chuckled.

“Emmett, shut up.” You knew that voice, you pushed harder against the wall holding your feelings inside. It felt like it was going to snap at any minute and you couldn’t have that. You didn’t know that Jasper could feel your struggle, making him look at you like he was in pain but it wasn’t his.

God, She’s gorgeous. No, shut up, Y/n. You can’t be thinking this, remember what Edward said. You don’t want to open that can of worms, you’ll only end up getting hurt. But she’s so beautiful and you were so fucked.

Edward could hear your internal struggle and from what he hears from Jasper, you weren’t just pushing your thoughts away. Maybe he messed up, he knew that he had when Rosalie threw him through a few trees when they got home. Jasper and Emmett had to literally use all of their strength to hold her back with how angry she was and even then there were foot marks from her pushing against them, he was lucky Carlisle got home when he did or he’d be a dead man.

You quickly look away, deciding that the floor looked more interesting. Maybe you shouldn’t have come, this was a bad idea. But before you could turn and run, a voice stopped you. “Y/n. Is it okay if we talk?” You’d think the voice belonged to an angel or a siren if you didn’t know the person attached to it. You lift your head slightly, ensuring she was talking to you even though she had already said your name. But how were you to know that it was you? For all you know, you could’ve begun to walk to her only for someone behind you with the same name to push past. Embarrassing you.

But when your eyes locked with hers, you knew there was no one behind you with the same name and with a small nod. You slowly walk toward her, your heart skipping as she puts her hand out, willing you to grab it and when you do. Oh god, you think your heart exploded. She gently pulls you along and outside, taking you a bit further from the house so no one could interrupt you, she leads you to a small clearing that has a log with a blanket over it and a perfect view of the moon, a few fairy lights hung from some of the trees. Like someone had set it up that way.

You sit when she does, knowing that the feelings and thoughts you were pushing back were no use, you had lost to them the moment your eyes met hers. “I’m sorry.” You weren’t expecting that, she spoke so softly, looking up at the moon like it was hard to look at you, but you didn’t know that if she looked at you, her frozen heart would hurt from the pain she’s caused you. “I put you through so much for no good reason. I made you think and feel horrible things about yourself because I was scared.”

You stay silent, scooting a tiny bit closer. Your heart warms when she grabs your hand gently. Rosalie finally turns to look at you and it was at this moment that she fully accepted the mate bond, she was stupid to think she could just forget you and move on. “I’ve lied about many things, kept secrets from you. But I don’t know if I can anymore. I want to try. But only if you want that as well.”

“I… I know I’d forgive you easily and that scares me too. Because I want to be angry with you, I–I don’t want to… I want to know everything so that I can understand and that hopefully we can start over. But for my sake, I need it to be slow so I don’t hate myself for forgiving you so easily.” You finally let it out, you knew that your heart had already forgiven her but your mind hadn't. Of course you wanted to try, especially if it was with her. You didn’t care about the lies and secrets, you probably should’ve, but somewhere deep inside it was as though something wouldn’t allow that. It was weird because you’ve had people lie to you in the past and you held a grudge over it forever. Yet, you couldn’t with her.

Rosalie had already spoken to her family about this, Alice having already known was ecstatic. She helped her sister prove to the family that this would be a good thing and that they’d no longer feel so broken and dark.

If Rosalie was human, she’d swear she would have a heart attack by how fast her heart would be beating. She’d probably be drenching her clothes with sweat as she prepares herself for this. “I will start from the beginning, I guess.” You nod, squeezing her hand softly to let her know that you were listening. “Emmett and I, we were never together. My family and I are different, so we tend to move around a lot and because of how we look, it sometimes attracts unwanted attention. So, we agreed to act together until we found…” She pauses, trying to find the right word. “Until we found the person meant for us. You may have noticed Alice is special, that she tends to know things before you’ve even thought about it. She saw you, before we moved here. She told me that you were human… I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t want to bring you into this world and I have spent so long keeping a distance from your kind, but I knew the moment I spoke to you that I’d never be able to let you go, not without giving us a chance and you a choice.” She seemed to choke up as she said the last part, as if she were dreading what your choice would be when the time came. She wouldn’t want you to lose you, wouldn’t want to watch you grow old while she stayed young as you died. But she also didn’t want you to become like her, stuck for eternity.

Your mind seemed to work overtime with how fast it was thinking. Human? Alice saw me? Your kind? What world? Choice? You weren’t going to interrupt, but you were confused. You knew they weren’t entirely human, because no human would look like how they did. But you never thought to dig deep, it wasn’t your secret to uncover.

Rosalie huffs, bringing herself out of her thoughts as her eyes focused back on the moon and you couldn’t help but think that she wore moonlight like lingerie. The next words took you out of your thoughts, though. “My family and I are vampires.” You guess this took the cake over the whole Emmett dilemma, it also explained why everyone laughed when he said they don't bite. You sat still though, watching her as she watched the moon.

“Our eyes have meaning of what kind of vampire we are. If they are red, it means that they feed on human blood. But if they are gold, like mine and my family. It means we feed on animal blood. You’d probably call us vegetarians in a sense.” You make an ah sound, not really meaning to but you couldn’t help it. Rosalie shakes her head, not really understanding how you could still be here. “You should be running scared, you should hate me. We are killers, Y/n. We have killed and we could kill you if an accident were to arise like with that human.” She sneers and you put together that the human she’s referring to would be Bella.

You squeeze her hand. “I don’t want to run. It probably sounds idiotic for a human to stay after hearing that the person they like is a vampire. But you don’t scare me, something inside of me tells me that you’d never harm me. For some reason you’ve made me feel safe and whole the moment we locked eyes. You might’ve been killers before, but I don’t think you’ll kill me because if you or your family were going to kill me or anyone else. You would’ve done it by now. Especially since you have me all alone.” You pout, not liking that her smile had left. “Plus, you aren’t really that special in the killing department. I’m sorry to tell you this, but. Magic can kill. Knives can kill. Even small children launched at great speed could kill.”

This was the second time you heard her laugh. Her head falls back as an angelic laugh falls from her lips, her luscious blonde hair resting against her back. You felt warm knowing you brought her smile back, an added bonus that her laugh followed.

You felt hypnotized as you watched her. “You have a nice laugh.”

She looks at you, happiness swirling in her eyes. “A nice laugh?” It felt good to be complimented, especially when it came from you. The air felt lighter, now that everything was out in the open.

“Mmhm.” You lean forward and tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “I like it.” She was still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, nothing could compare to the beauty in front of you. You turn away a bit, causing a frown to slowly appear on her face. “I can’t look at you…”

Rosalie hesitates, thinking that maybe this was where it would end. “Why not?” She never hesitates, never sounds so unsure of herself but you do that to her.

You turn back again, a subtle smirk on your lips. “Too pretty.” Rosalie huffs, hitting your arm softly as she laughs with playful anger. Unbelieving of how fast she had fallen.

Your eyes connect again, a spark igniting between you. “Did you think about me?” Her question so light, so quiet, so shy. So unlike her.

You blink, releasing a breath you had been holding. “Sometimes it felt like I thought about you every minute.” She moved closer, her hands slowly moving to rest gently on you. Her eyes flicker over your face, knowing that if she could dream it would be about you. About this. Her hand slowly moves up, cupping your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” It was so quiet that you barely heard it, but you did. The question kept repeating over and over as you nodded.

“Yes.”

And with your permission, she crashed her soft cold lips against your plump warm ones. One hand resting on your cheek while the other rests on the back of your head, trying to bring you closer. Rosalie had never tasted something so sweet, so perfect. Your lips moved together, her tongue swiped across your bottom lip, gaining access, wanting to feel more of you, taste every bit of you. It felt as though you could finally breathe, that the missing puzzle piece was finally connected. You were her forever as she was yours.

Finally, fucking finally mine. They both thought.

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