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keeryhours · 19 hours ago

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thankful - rafe cameron

Baby daddy! Rafe x Baby mama! Maybank! Reader

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Rafe Cameron Masterlist

More Baby daddy! Rafe

Summary:

You, Rafe, and Iris spend Thanksgiving with the Camerons.

Request: “maybe baby daddy rafe and y/n spend thanksgiving together as a fam? With some smut? 🤭”

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, fingering, dirty talk, semi-public sex, Rafe has a slight breeding kink and refers to himself as daddy 🙃

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N:

I seriously get so excited when you guys request things, and this one is so timely! I went back in time for this one, so hopefully that’s okay. I hope you enjoy! I’m so glad you guys are loving this series <3 Requests are still open and if you’ve already sent one, I’ll be getting to it!

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list :)

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account

—

“You look beautiful.”

That was the first thing Rafe said when you opened the door on Thanksgiving, ready to ride with him to eat dinner with the Camerons. You had dressed in a slightly oversized sage green sweater and a short black skirt with heeled boots. His eyes trailed over your body.

“Thank you,” you blushed. “You look good yourself, Cameron.”

A smile lit up his handsome face. And he did look really nice. Rafe wore a dark gray button up with khaki slacks, the sleeves of his shirt hugging his biceps deliciously.

“Where’s my girl?” he asked. You were honestly surprised that wasn’t the first thing out of his mouth.

“JJ has her,” you explained, thumb pointing over your shoulder. “He’s getting her in the car seat.”

Rafe followed you into the house and into the living room, where JJ was just finishing up tightening the straps of Iris’ seat. “All set, pretty girl,” JJ announced to the baby, ignoring Rafe’s presence.

Iris cooed happily at her uncle. She was days away from turning 6 months old, just beginning to learn to sit up on her own. Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of Rafe, and she squealed.

Rafe grinned widely, practically pushing JJ out of the way as he walked up to the seat and crouched to be eye level with his daughter. “Hi, baby girl,” he greeted her, holding out his hand and letting her wrap her tiny hand around his finger. “You ready for your first Cameron Thanksgiving?”

Iris blew bubbles at him, which he took for a yes as he laughed. Iris was dressed in a brown Thanksgiving-themed dress, white tights on her chubby legs to help keep her warm. She had a matching bow in her light brown hair. Her big blue eyes looked right into her father’s matching ones.

Rafe stood, picking up the infant carrier. “Ready to go?” he asked you, and you nodded in confirmation.

Rafe was already out the door and on the way to his truck. JJ gave you a hug before you followed after him. He was baby talking to Iris as he locked her seat into the base. He turned as you approached, a smile on his face.

“Both my girls look stunning today,” he said as he closed the truck door. “I’m a lucky guy.”

You blushed deeply as you both climbed into your sides of the vehicle - you hadn’t officially been Rafe’s girl in a long time, but he seemed to have no intentions of dropping the nickname.

You felt a little nervous on the drive over. It’s not like you weren’t incredibly familiar with the Camerons, but it also felt like a big deal. This was your first Thanksgiving together as a family (well, kind of), and you felt the pressure of it. Not that Iris would care how things went, she’d never remember it obviously, but you would, and you wanted the evening to go well, for the day to be special.

Rafe pulled into the long driveway of Tannyhill, the gorgeous Cameron estate that you had admired your whole life. You used to be incredibly jealous when you were younger, truthfully. You and JJ had a rough home life with an abusive father, so you both spent much of your childhoods dreaming of something better. Tannyhill made frequent appearances in your fantasies. So did Rafe.

At the time, you felt you could never admit your crush on the eldest Cameron to anyone, especially not your best friend Sarah. Because how lame would that have been for you to admit to crushing on her jerk of a big brother? It’s funny how things worked out in the end. You had dated Rafe secretly for a while, but when it came out (awkwardly, with Sarah walking in on you two in a very compromising position), you realized you had worried for nothing because Sarah actually loved the two of you together. She said you brought out the best in Rafe. For a while, at least.

You smoothed your skirt as you climbed out of the truck, watching Rafe retrieve the car seat from the back. You walked side by side to the house, nerves buzzing in your stomach.

The smell of the house hits you immediately - it smells delicious. Your mouth practically waters as you take in the smell of the different foods waiting in the dining room. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were.

The Cameron family greeted you warmly when the three of you walked into the dining room. Ward and Rose both gave you a big hug, followed by Sarah launching herself into your arms and an attack by a nearly-as-excited Wheezie.

You were nothing compared to the little girl bundled in her seat, though. Rafe watched on with a proud smile as his family crowded around the carrier, baby talking to Iris. Ward is the one who unbuckles her and lifts her from her carrier first, holding her to his chest and looking like the proud grandpa he is while the others crowd around. It leaves you feeling warm inside.

The food was already spread across the large table. A huge selection - a perfect looking turkey, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, any Thanksgiving food you could dream of was prepared to perfection and displayed on the Cameron’s dining table.

When it was time to eat, you took a seat next to Rafe. Iris had a high chair set up for her, but she spent the meal bouncing from lap to lap. The conversation is comfortable and you find yourself laughing through most of the meal. The food is as delicious as it smelled, and you happily eat as much of it as you can.

After dinner, a football game is turned on the huge TV in the living room. Ward retired with a drink in hand to watch, while Wheezie lounged on the couch and Sarah joined Rose in the kitchen, Iris on her hip.

You stood, about to join the girls in the kitchen, when you felt large hands making themselves at home on your waist, warm breath against your ear.

“Let’s sneak off somewhere,” Rafe whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Rafe…” you scolded, turning around to look at him. “We can’t. And we’re literally surrounded by your family-“

“We can,” he interrupted you, hands wandering along your sides, around to grab onto your ass. “C‘mon…”

He grabbed onto your hand and pulled on it, a mischievous smile on his handsome face. You looked around, making sure no one was paying any attention to you. Rafe knew you would give in, but the delight on his face when you move your feet to follow after him is unmatched.

He pulls you down the hall to one of the downstairs bathrooms, quickly pulling you inside and locking the door behind you as you flip on the light switch. You barely have time to take in your surroundings before Rafe’s pressing you up against the door, his lips on yours in a hungry kiss.

Rafe’s hands explored every inch of your body he could reach, tracing over your curves, moaning into your mouth as he grabbed your ass again before sliding his hands beneath the hem of your skirt.

“Rafe…” you breathed out against his lips, head going dizzy already from the way he was already everywhere all over you at once.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, baby,” he mumbled, fingers pushing your panties to the side, rubbing against your already throbbing clit. You gasped, eyes falling shut. “Can you do that?”

“Yes,” you promised him, desperate for him to just keep going. You’d do anything as long as he didn’t stop.

Rafe pushed a finger into your entrance, making your head fall back against the door with a thud as your mouth fell open. He began to pump his finger in and out of your tight heat while you tried to keep your legs from collapsing.

“So tight…” Rafe commented as he added a second finger, readying you to take him. “Been missin’ me?”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you confessed easily, causing Rafe to chuckle as he placed kisses along your jaw. He had you losing your mind on nothing but two of his fingers and a few kisses - you never stood a chance with Rafe.

“I’ve missed you too, baby,” he said lowly, mouth moving to your neck to suck and bite along all the sensitive spots he knows by heart.

He used his palm to rub against your clit as he continued to thrust his fingers into your pussy, curling them deep inside to hit that perfect spot that nearly had you collapsing onto the floor if it wasn’t for Rafe’s strong arm around your waist. You let yourself melt into him as he expertly took you apart.

“Gonna cum on my fingers, baby?” he asked, already knowing the answer from the feeling of your walls clenching around him in the most familiar way.

“‘m so close…” you mumbled, head falling forward onto Rafe’s shoulder. He laughed at how weak you became for him, and how easy it was for him to get you there. He couldn’t get enough.

He thrusted his fingers faster, making sure to press against that perfect spot with every push inside. Your legs trembled, whole body electric as you grabbed onto Rafe for dear life, biting down on his shoulder to stifle your moans as your release rocked through you intensely. Your cunt spasmed around his fingers as he worked you through it, mumbling whispers of “Good girl, that’s it, fall apart for me, cum all over my fingers pretty girl, that’s fuckin’ right…”

Rafe didn’t even care about your teeth digging into his shoulder, like he barely even noticed it. He pulled out of you slowly and you whined, a cocky smirk growing across his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean with a groan. “Still so sweet, baby.”

“Rafe, I need you,” you begged, legs hardly able to hold your weight as you leaned against the bathroom door. You felt pretty pathetic right now.

“Yeah? You still need my cock even after you just came all over my fingers?” Rafe asked, eyes darkened with lust as he grabbed your waist and roughly positioned you to lean over the countertop. “Greedy little cunt.” He smacked your ass hard, making you jump and stifle a moan with your hand.

You watched in the mirror as Rafe pulled your skirt up around your waist, harshly pulling your panties down your legs and stuffing them in his pocket. His eyes met yours in the mirror, mischievous smirk on his lips.

His hands quickly undid his belt and slacks, pushing both his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing cock. You wanted to turn around and get a good look at it - it had been a minute since you’d seen it, but you could never forget how nice it is - but Rafe had you pinned to the counter.

He gave his already rock hard length a couple quick pumps as his other hand rested on your hip, rubbing circles into the skin. He took the time to take in the view before him - his favorite view. You all bent over for him, pussy soaking wet and spread wide for him to fuck however he pleased. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He lined himself up at your entrance, thick cockhead pressing against you eagerly, precum smeared across his tip. His eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You started that birth control, yeah?” he asked, but he was pretty sure he was about to fuck you raw no matter what your answer was.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, pushing your hips back against him. “Been on it for a few weeks. We’re good.”

Rafe didn’t think he could have stopped himself either way, but he felt relieved as he pushed his hips forward, tip breaching your tight hole. You watched his face in the mirror as he slowly filled you, his face completely contorted in pleasure. His brow was furrowed, mouth hanging open as he let out a low, quiet groan, trying his best to hold onto his restraint and not alert the entire household to what you were up to.

His hands dug into your hips harshly as he bottomed out inside of you. His own thighs were trembling, he couldn’t believe the way your pussy was holding onto him, squeezing his cock perfectly like you were made to take him.

“Good, baby?” He gritted out, looking into your eyes in your reflection. You nodded frantically.

“Yeah, baby, want you to fuck me,” you begged.

Rafe let out another quiet groan at your words - fuck, he felt like you would be the absolute death of him sometimes - but it’s exactly what he wanted to hear as he drags his hips back painfully slowly before snapping back into you.

You smack a hand over your mouth just in time for him to thrust back in, the strangled moan that escaped your lips blessedly muffled by your hand. Rafe chuckled darkly, setting a quick pace as he fucked into your tight cunt from behind.

Your free hand gripped onto the side of the counter for some kind of stability. You felt completely at his mercy, your body utterly weak and held up only by the counter beneath you and Rafe’s rough hold on your hips as he pulled your body back against his ruthless thrusts.

“Fuck, yeah, take it,” Rafe grunted out quietly, unable to keep his dirty mouth from running even when you were very much at risk of getting caught. His eyes fluttered closed as his hips snapped into you at a frantic, near desperate pace.

You felt another orgasm building inside as he fucked you just right, cock hitting that same perfect spot with every movement. Rafe leaned over you, placing kisses all over your shoulders and getting close enough to hear the breathy whines and moans he was pulling from your chest.

“Sound so pretty like that…” he huffed, hands sliding up under your sweater to grab at your tits. He impulsively pulled the sweater over your head, messing your hair up in the process before dropping it to the bathroom floor. “Need to see you,” is all the explanation you get. He unclasped your bra to free your naked chest to his hungry eyes. God, how he loved your tits. Especially since having a baby - they were perfect before, but now they’d nearly doubled in size and Rafe was obsessed.

He watched them bounce as he fucked you, the sight pushing him closer and closer to his own release. He wrapped his hands around them, squeezing and playing with your nipples, making you let out the most delicious whines whenever he’d pinch at them. You wished he had taken his shirt off so you could see his gorgeous chest, the way his ab muscles would flex as he pounded into you, biceps contracting as he pulled your body against his own.

“Feels so good, Rafe,” you moaned quietly, wanting to let him know how good he was making you feel, how good he always was to you. “I love your cock.”

Rafe groaned. “I know you do, baby.” He picked up his pace, thrusting into you even harder as he felt both of your releases approaching rapidly. “I love this perfect pussy, she’s always so good for me…”

Rafe’s hands went back to your hips as he started chasing his release, the power and speed of his thrusts sending shockwaves through your body, and shoving you up against the counter so hard you were sure you’d have bruises all over tomorrow. “‘m close again, baby…” you whined.

Rafe removed his right hand from your hip and wrapped his arm around your body, fingers going right for your swollen clit to rub quick, precise circles. “Cum for me again, baby, please, wanna feel you cum all over my cock, just for daddy, please baby girl-“

The combination of his words and his actions violently shoved you over the edge, your mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back as it crashed through you for the second time, but infinitely more intense. Your pussy clenched around his girth over and over as you chanted his name into your own hand, ecstasy coursing through your body like a drug.

Your body practically dragged Rafe into his own release and he leaned over to bury his face in your neck as he came hard, filling you up with his load as he continued to slowly pump his hips through his orgasm while you pulsed around him. “Jesus baby, holy fuck…” You hear his muffled voice against your skin, feel his shaking body laying on top of you.

You both took a minute to calm down before Rafe was pulling out of you, leaving you feeling much more empty than before. He stepped back and admired his work, fingers collecting his release that had dripped out of you and pushing it back inside, making you tremble.

“Don’t want to waste a drop, baby,” he said with that cocky grin back on his face. You’d both made sure to always use protection any time you hooked up since Iris was born, but at the same time Rafe loved the idea of filling you up, the idea of you potentially giving him another perfect baby.

Rafe tucked himself back into his pants as you tried your best to compose yourself, pulling your clothes back on and trying to make them look like they hadn’t just been on the floor and shoved around your waist. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched you.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. You raised an eyebrow at his reflection in the mirror. “To dinner,” he clarified, an amused glint in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head at him. You fussed with your hair, trying your hardest to not leave this bathroom looking freshly fucked. “How do I always let you pull me into these situations?”

“It’s because you can’t resist me,” he said, hands trailing up and down your sides. He squeezed your hips one last time before he pulled away.

“I’m gonna head back out there so we don’t walk out of here together. You take your time.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your lips, then smacked your ass hard before he slipped out the door.

You sighed to your own reflection. Your hair had been thoroughly ruined, lipstick a little smudged. You did your best to pull yourself back together before you exited the bathroom and rejoined the Camerons, who were all gathered in the living room now, Rafe included, Iris on his lap.

“Where have you two been?” Ward asked, completely oblivious. “You missed half the game,” he directed towards Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes darted to yours, smirk still on his lips as he took a sip of his beer. You were grateful you were saved from having to answer when one of whatever teams were playing scored a touchdown, stealing Ward’s attention away entirely.

You didn’t miss the knowing look Sarah gave you, before she rolled her eyes and shook her head with a laugh. You felt your cheeks heating.

When Rafe brought you home, Iris had already passed out. She slept soundly in her car seat as Rafe drove through the dark island, music playing softly from the truck’s speakers to not disturb her rest.

He reached a hand over and rested it on your thigh. You stared at his hand, unsure what to do, until you dropped your hand atop his and interlinked your fingers together. Rafe smiled, looking more content than you’d seen him for most of his life.

“Seriously, thank you for coming,” he said as he put the truck in park in your driveway. He still held your hand as he turned to look at you. “I know it’s still weird, trying to figure out how to…do things, how to…co-parent. But I’m glad we can get along and be a family without her having to be with one or the other.”

You smiled softly at the sincerity in his words. “I’m glad, too. I had a good time.”

Rafe smirked at you then. “Yeah? You had a good time with me?”

You felt yourself blushing - you had meant the whole event, but admittedly that had been the best part. “Yeah. Tons of fun.”

Rafe laughed as he leaned in and pressed a kiss against your lips. The biggest part of you loved it, still cherished every opportunity to be affectionate with Rafe, to feel any part of him, to be close to him. But a small part of you wished he wouldn’t do things like this anymore because all it did was confuse feelings and make things complicated all over again. You didn’t like the way your heart fluttered in your chest as your ex boyfriend kissed you in the darkness of his truck.

When he pulled away, he looked at you like he could tell what you were thinking about. He looked almost apologetic, although he didn’t regret it. He never regretted the things you did together.

“I’ll see you this weekend,” you told him, knowing it’s Rafe’s weekend with your daughter.

He nodded. “I’ll be here. Do you want me to carry her inside?”

You thought about it. You didn’t want to inconvenience him, but that carrier was heavy as hell now that she had grown so much. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Rafe hopped out of the truck without a complaint, reaching into the backseat to unlock her carrier and lift it from the car seat base. He followed you to the door as you let the three of you inside.

JJ was gone, spending Thanksgiving with the pogues. You had planned to go, too, before Rafe asked you about spending the holiday with his family. You felt a little bad that you didn’t get to spend it with your twin brother, but you knew he understood and probably didn’t even care.

Rafe carefully unbuckled his sleeping daughter from her seat. She snuggled into his chest and he rested his large hand on her back, rocking her gently so she’d stay asleep. You trailed after him as he walked to the nursery and laid her in her crib.

Back in the hallway with Iris’ bedroom door closed, you both stood there awkwardly for a minute.

“JJ probably isn’t coming back tonight,” you blurted out, not even sure why you said it.

But Rafe’s face lit up, eyes shining with mischief. “Yeah? You’re alone for the night?”

You blushed, looking down at your feet to work up the courage for what you say next. “I don’t have to spend it alone.”

Rafe’s smirk only grew as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as you giggled. His lips came down to press against yours again, and you didn’t care about your relationship status, or whether you belonged together, or how much you loved him despite telling yourself you didn’t. All that mattered was that he was here now, and he was yours for the night.

You were thankful for that, at least.

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trendywaifus · 3 days ago

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↳ you know you’re better than this.

featuring — anya x gn! reader (mouthwashing)

no, i don’t write for mouthwashing, there’s just not any anya content.

cw: dark themes, mentions of sexual abuse, abuse, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting, blood, implications of suicide, character deaths, controlling behavior, triggering themes, angst, panic attack, reader is fresh out of medical school, barely hurt and comfort

6 weeks before the crash.

“ guess who~? “

you croon, playfully hovering your hands over the onyx haired woman’s eyes as you snuck up behind her in the med room. anya was standing in front of the sink, quietly washing her hands. a soft giggle rolls off her smiling lips, body language relaxed,

“ hmm, daisuke?”

you snicker, “ i didn’t know i was a silly boy.”

anya hums thoughtfully while the faucet still runs and her hands soaking wet. “ captain? “

“ yes it is i, the big softie blond with curls! “ you proclaimed, goofily deepening your voice to make the voice of the captain, curly. if curly was here, he definitely would of made fun of your half-baked impression of him. anya lets out a bubbly laugh that makes the corner of your lips curl upwards even more. you fight the urge to hug her from behind and squeeze her silly from how wondrous she is. to think you get to be on a space trip with the woman you love and admire deeply makes you wanna float through the endlessly sea of stars and wonder.

“ now that I guessed you right, can i finish washing my hands and greet my lover properly? “ anya asks in a jovial tone.

“ mhmm~ “ you removed your hands away from her eyes and backed off so she can finish washing her hands. it takes a few moments for anya to finish. she turns the faucet off, grabs a paper towel from the dispenser, and wipes her hands off. after throwing the crumbled paper towel in the small bin, she turns around to finally face you. despite her hues resembling a gloomy grey, they brighten as they drink you in. anya immediately seeks for you, wrapping her arms around your frame and gently brushes up against you. you gladly reciprocate the loving gesture, running a delicate up her back and let it rest on her upper back.

“ so, how’s evaluations going three months in? “ you asked, pressing a quick kiss to her brow, “ has the others evaluations been okay? no crazy confessions yet right? “ you inquired with a teasing voice. anya is far experienced in psychology than you are so you leave the evaluations to her. and because anya’s more outgoing and hands-on, you felt like anya’s more capable of taking on medic role. you were luckily squeezed on this ship as a last minute intern similar to daisuke for the experience. six people on a four-man ship is so far quite the experience. you try not to get in the way of the others and besides anya, you mostly interact with curly and daisuke.

anya pauses, recalling her memories from the monthly evaluations.

“ hm. .—oh! daisuke. .a very bright and funny boy that really puts himself out there. he inspires me to be more optimistic. ugh, he’s also disgustingly lucky when it comes to those board games we play. “ her lips ball up in a cute pout, you laugh, “

“ stop saying he’s lucky, anya. you’re just being a sore loser. just accept that he’s better than you at board games! “

anya playfully rolls her eyes, “ oh hush. don’t tell me you’re on his side. “

you smirked, “ i’m on your side, beautiful—buttt i’m still gonna hand you the truth. lovingly. “

anya tells you about the other three evaluations, curly, swansea, and jimmy. her voice is light-hearted when she talks about curly. she describes him as being kind but a bit reserved. he never talks much about himself. everyone has their own story and perhaps even some like him chooses to not tell his as it’s locked away behind the fleshy walls of his bleeding heart. when anya got to swansea, her tone is the same but it’s dampens a bit; melancholic. she describes the crude mechanic as a man who’s been through a lot in life and still lives on despite his struggles. despite how rough he acts, there’s something about him that makes you feel sorry for him. there’s a sort of loneliness that clings to him like the fresh scent of dry balls after drying your clothes in a dryer. however, you can tell that daisuke’s light is smearing onto the much older man’s demeanor. he’s a little more livelier, although very rough on the edges—swansea expresses his care for daisuke in a tough love kinda way.

when anya finally gets to the gruff brunette man, the atmosphere shifts. her words holds a certain weight to them that makes you feel slightly uncomfortable. her voice is meek and reluctant as she talks about his recent evaluation. you pick up on anya’s careful wording and brief pauses during it. she rests her cheek against your shoulder, holding you visibly tighter as if she’s trying to ground herself through you. anya says that he doesn’t really take his evaluation seriously and makes particularly sarcastic comments at her. great. you don’t like jimmy because there’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. was it that permanent mean look on his face? that judgmental look in his hooded, brown eyes whenever he passes by you in the hallways? what could have you possibly done to him to make him look at you like that? you don’t really talk to him and care more for curly. he is the leader and main pilot after all.

“ . .if he’s making you uncomfortable, i can do his evaluations for you. psychological evaluations require a one on one session and i can do it while you’re outside of the door.” you mutter, rubbing loose circles into anya’s back.

your lover stays silent for a moment. “ . . .no, i can handle it. but, you standing behind the door instead puts me a little more at ease though, haha. “

“ of course. anya, look at me. “ and she does, pulling her head away to peer at you with those pretty, upturned eyes of hers. a tender palm cups her cheek. anya’s skin feels warm and soft to the touch. “ if anything happens, you’ll tell me right? i may only be the intern but i will absolutely raise hell for you. “

anya smiles at you warmly at you, grayish eyes twinkling with endearment. she leans in and kisses your lips. “ i prefer that you not to because i’d hate for you to get booted into space by the crew. “ she remarks jokingly in between brief kisses.

“ hmm. “ you bring your lips to the bridge of her nose, under the tender flesh of her eye, everywhere until she’s a smiling mess. “ we’ll have to see about that. “

5 weeks before the crash.

restless, you exhale as you blankly stare at the white ceiling. due to anya’s head laying on your chest and her body nuzzled against your side, you can hardly change positions or get up, really. you don’t want to wake her up either.

“ can’t sleep? “ she whispers out gently, her hand that was intertwined with yours, lightly squeezed.

“ mmm, not really. did i wake you up with my defeated sighs, anya? “

“ . . kinda. but i’m use to this by now since this is a habit you like to do when you can’t sleep, (name).”you can hear the fond smile in her voice. after two years of dating, anya’s able to read and soak up your habits. she’s so attentive to your mannerisms, knows when you’re apprehensive by the twitching of your fingers and eyes. she knows when you’re happy, sad—it’s quite ridiculous how could someone so knowledgeable like her is struggling to get accepted to med school several times while it only took you once to get in. you’re not a registered nurse prior to getting into med school or anything like that. yes, you worked really hard—but lets admit it; you were just simply lucky to get in. lucky and currently hundred thousand dollars in debt after finishing.

“ i’ll let you sleep. i think i will just sneak into med bay to finish reading the social animal. i wanna be good at psychology as my awesome, future wife is.” you asked, pressing a chaste kiss on her temple.

anya laughs sleepily, “ oh, stop it. you’re not going to fall asleep in there, are you? “

“ of course not! i’ll come back to you once i’m feeling tired. but, if you miss me or have a nightmare, you know where to find me~ “

she removes her head off your chest and breaks away from you with a soft pout. “ i suppose so. “

you get up from the bed and dipped down to kiss the tip of her pretty roman nose. “ buh bye for now, beautiful. ” you coo, adjusting the blanket back over her body.

“ see you, hun. “

you slip on your slippers and walked out of your shared cabin. besides the sound of the low humming noise of the ship, silence fills the void of the still atmosphere. it’s surprisingly chilly as you exit the sleeping quarters and walk through the narrow-like hallways to medical. your footsteps softly bounces throughout the metal walls and your distorted shadow follows behinds you. there’s a churning feeling in your gut as you walk and walk. was it really okay to skip off to medical at the middle of “night” just to read? wouldn’t it have suffice to simply stay and talk to anya until you were able to fall asleep?

your eye twitch and your fingers curl ever so slightly.

should you just go back to her?

“ hey, you’re still “up.”

a rough voice calls out, ripping you away from your thoughts. you stop walking. your eyes wander over to the source and a shiver runs down your spine. jimmy, still in his jumpsuit, stands by the hallway leading to the cockpit. there’s a sense of uneasiness in the air as his quiet gaze lingers on you, waiting for your response.

“ yeah, can’t sleep. “ you say in a deadpan voice, “ what about you? “

jimmy runs his fingers through his tousled chocolate locks before shrugging. “ same as you. but i’m just taking a aimless stroll. where you headin’ to? “

none of your business.

“ medical. “

there’s something in his eyes that visibly changes; a taunting glint that has you side-eyeing him. a corner of his thin lips curl into a subtle, smug smirk.

“ you’re a little ways to go, dr. intern. “

you roll your eyes and start walking pass him, “ i know. at least i know where to go, mr. co pilot. “

jimmy clicks his tongue behind you, muttering something under his breath before his footsteps become distant in your ears. you turn your head, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder. you see his tall silhouette walking down the direction towards the sleeping quarters. “ smug fuck, i hope you sleep like shit tonight. “ you murmur, trying your best to ignore the sinking feeling in your tummy.

with a tired sigh, you slumped in the chair, turning one of many pages you gone through. the ticking clock in the background occasionally hits your ears as your fingers lazily drum against the pristine white surface of the desk. your droopy (e/c) eyes skim across a quote that leaves the remainder of your conscious mind wondering.

reason and emotion are not separate and opposed. reason is nestled upon emotion and dependent upon it. emotion assigns value to things, and reason can only make choices on the basis of those valuations. the human mind can be pragmatic because deep down it is romantic.

“is it wrong to use only reasoning to make a decision devoid of emotion . .? or is it actually wrong to let your emotions influence your decisions and reasoning? ” you sleepily muse to yourself.

oh, being human is so complicated.

your head perk up at the medbay door sliding open. surprise is written all over your face once you see a seemingly shaken up anya walking inside. her arms are tucked to her chest, hands clutching her elbows.“ anya? it’s only been. .two hours? you had a nightmare already? “ you asked worriedly, standing up from the desk to make your way over to her.

“ i. .y-yes, it was t-terrible. .” anya whispers in a quivering voice. her head is down, avoiding eye contact. you try to grasp her elbow and lure her into your arms but she violently flinches from your touch.

pulling away quickly, your face contorts into a look of worry. “ baby? “

teary-eyed, anya quickly lifts up her head, mustering a shaky smile. “ oh dear, i-i’m sorry. i-i’m just still quite shaken up from the nightmare, h-haha. i need a minute or so to recoup myself. can i stay here with you? “ anya sometimes get nightmares but it was only due to stress. she never had a nightmare that got her like this.

“ . .of course. you don’t even have to ask. here, you can sit on one of those beds. “ carefully, you ghost your hand over the small of her back as you guide her to a bed. she quietly sits down with a soft sniffle and you follow suit. your heart squeezes at the sound of her soft hiccups and the sight of her head down. you can hardly see her face due to her saber strands hanging down. “ can. .is it safe for me to have my arm around you? “

she meekly bobs her head and you delicately curl an arm around her, taking note of her body momentarily stiffening up before gradually relaxing. “ do you want to talk about your nightmare? “

it takes her a moment to reply. “ . . no. i don’t really remember much of it now anyways. “

you frown, leaving it at that despite wanting to push for more. anya always remember her nightmares. there’s something that’s eating away at your gut and it’s making you anxious. you gnaw at your lip and your eyes twitch. you should be focusing on her. whatever you’re feeling right now is the result of your overthinking. you should trust her. it was just a rare, horrible nightmare that gotten her like this.

things can happen unexpectedly without an explanation.

perhaps you shouldn’t push for an answer and leave it alone?

1 week before the crash.

“ hah! i win! in your face! “ daisuke laughs in triumphant, placing his pink piece over on the next move that solidifies his victory. anya groans loudly next to you, crossing her arms and pouts like a kid who gotten their toy taken away. “ this is unbelievable! i almost had it! “

you laughed, “ better luck next time, anya. it seems like the kid has a brighter future than you when it comes to board games! “

ever since that night, anya’s been uncharacteristically a little distant and jumpy. she’d always seek for your touch. but now, she seems reluctant to touch you first. whenever you try to show anya any kind of affection, it takes her a moment to reciprocate. you can’t really surprise her now or she’ll get visibly startled. anya has trouble sleeping and wakes up from the any sound or movement so you have to be still. for the past four weeks, you tried to ask her about her abnormal behavior, and she’d tell you vague reasons like, “ i just haven’t been feeling well. “ or “ that nightmare got to me more than i thought, i’m sorry. “

you’re worried about her—even her smiles are dampened with a sliver of sadness behind them. you really want to help but you don’t know how. it feels like she’s slowly putting a wall between you, her, and her true feelings. at least right now she’s like her old self again. you’re glad.

“ hey guys. having fun in here, huh? “ curly and jimmy walks inside the lounge. the blond waves at the three of you with a welcoming smile while jimmy awkwardly stood behind him.

“ yeah! i was able to beat anya this time! isn’t that right, anya? “

“ mhm, but as usual, it was luck. “ anya says softly, her voice lacking the enthusiasm as it did before. she tucks her arms into her chest. you flash her a look of concern. there it is again, the churning feeling in your belly. why did her mood sour like that? was it because of curly and jimmy’s arrival? your eyes travel back to the two men, quietly observing them. curly ruffles daisuke’s hair as he stood behind the couch daisuke is sitting on. he’s completely focused on talking to daisuke. your gaze transition over to jimmy and his eyes meet with yours.

that same glint he had in his eyes a few weeks ago, has you feeling more than uneasy. then, your mind suddenly flashes back to the subtle smirk he had and him walking back to the direction of the sleeping quarters. not too long after him going over there and you lounging in medbay, anya joins you, trembling and barely wanting you to touch her. you thought about her saying it was a bad nightmare and didn’t remember enough to tell you the details of it. like what you thought about before, anya always remembers her nightmares and only gets them due to stress.

the horrible realization starts to sink in and your heart drops to the very pits of your stomach. it drowns in a sea of dread.

oh god, did he go to her while you were. . .?

you feel sick. why did you ignore that gut feeling in your stomach during your walk to medbay back then? why didn’t you stay with anya? why did you just figure this out now?

you stand up unexpectedly, startling everyone.

“ (name)? what’s the matter? “ anya asks with clear worry. throat dry, you gathered up the strength to cast her a assuring smile that doesn’t reach your eyes in which she notices right away.

“ i. .i need to go to the restroom. i’ll be back everyone. . “

you quickly slide the bathroom door behind you. unable to hold your own weight anymore, you fall to your knees. there’s a suffocating feeling in your chest that’s causing your breathing to become uneven. your mind races back to the evaluations and how uncomfortable anya looked every time she had to do jimmy’s. yes, you stood behind the door to provide her some “security” in the recent weekly evaluations, but god, you actually let her be in the same room alone with this man? her assaulter? you did basically nothing but blindly trusted her words and ignored your intuition.

maybe anya didn’t want to tell you because she knew that you’d make a big uproar out of it, thus making the situation possibly even worse?

or maybe she was afraid you’d look at her differently?

. . .or maybe jim threatened her to not tell the crew?

t r u s t

she kept this in all this time and gave these inconsistent reasons that you knew was out of character for her to make up. . and yet. .you ignored the obvious signals and trusted her anyway. all you had to do was listen to your gut feeling and sit down with her to talk. all you had to say was that you were there for her and you’ll listen to anything she has to say if she wants to talk. you’d do anything for her—anything. even if it meant the cost of your internship which matters practically nothing to you. it’s not like the company was worth shit anyways. what fucking company doesn’t implement locks on doors in rooms where their own employees sleep in? what company just allows someone like him in?

tears bubble in your eyes as you grit your teeth, seething in frustration. you bite down on your bottom until the thin layer skin easily rips and starts to bleed. you bawl your hands into tight fists, nails dig into your palm until moon crescents dig into the flesh. you’re so horrible.

you feel so sick.

this is what she must of felt but much much worse.

you can’t even imagine how she had to process what happened all alone in the dark and walk through the long corridors in dead silence just to get to medbay, to you. you can’t imagine how it feels to hide something so traumatic from everyone while gathering up your broken shards of identity in silence. you don’t blame her—you can never blame her from hiding what happened between her and jimmy. you can only blame yourself for being ignorant and not fully realizing how dangerous he truly is.

your stomach turns upside down and you feel the sudden need to vomit. you scrambled over to the toilet and puke your guts out. series of fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“ ugh. .” you coughed hoarsely, hunched over.

you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick. you feel sick—

a few firm knocks on the bathroom door made you freeze.

anya’s concerned voice calls out behind the bathroom door. “ (name), are you alright? are you feeling well? “

you couldn’t even respond properly without hacking which gave yourself away immediately. alerted by your excessive coughing, she successfully slides the door open and rushes inside to your aid.

you never locked the door behind you, did you?

“ i’m here, (name). please, let it all out. “ anya rubs your back soothingly, not bothered by the drool and vomit spilling from your lips. you feel embarrassed under the worried, gentle gaze of anya. she whispers comforting words as you finishing vomiting. she grabs some paper towels and silently offers to wipe your face. you shake your head and gingerly take the towels from her hands and do it yourself.

anya opens her mouth to speak but you interrupt her.

“ it’s funny, “ you half laughed and sobbed, “ how you were able to come in so quickly just as i realized the door wasn’t locked. “

anya’s eyes widen with shock and looks as if she was about to burst into tears.

1 month after the crash.

“ anya, sweetheart? “ you gently call out to her before resting a hand on anya’s shoulder as stood by the sink, soaking curly’s bandages with soap and water. the fresh bandages are slowly starting to run out because of curly’s nonstop bleeding. you and anya both agreed to clean and reuse the bandages after one use to maintain the supply.

she still slightly jumps and turns her head around with a soft smile. “a-ah! s-sorry, (name). what’s wrong? “

“ let me clean the bandages and give captain his meds. you’ve been standing there for the past forty minutes. sit out in the lounge, okay? after watching you the first few times, i know what to do. “

a look of uncertainty dwells on her face as she ponders over your words. gingerly, you place a hand over her stomach. “ please, anya? i’ve seen how uncomfortable you look when you do this for him, you don’t have to hide it from me because i’m your lover. we’ve talked about this. i’ll do anything i can to shoulder your burden and make sure that you’re not pushing your body. “

anya’s grey hues flicker with appreciation and a twinge of guilt. “ okay, i’ll go sit down. if you need me, please holler out. i-i hate to make you do this after—“

“ anya. “ you interrupt her, reaching out to cradle her pale cheeks. they feel warm under your palms. your gaze pools into her own. “ anything. “ you whisper, resting your forehead against hers. anya’s lips pursue in a thin line. you know she wants to object but she swallows her words without anything to wash it down with, leaving behind a bitter taste. you lift your chin to press a lingering kiss to anya’s forehead.

tentatively, anya walks out of the medical, leaving you and a shell of a man in the room alone. a deep sigh runs past your lips and you go over to the half–foamed up desk to quietly grab a bottle of pain meds. “ captain. “ you mutter, walking over to the bed where he permanently lays. what a pitiful sight to witness. curly resembles a meat bag, his limbs left horribly mutated and amputated, his once tan skin is now all gone and long burned off. he’s stripped from his protection and only his vulnerable muscles are exposed. his only eye, wide and blue, stares up at you. you stare back blankly. through a singular sea of blue, you see a mass of fear, pain, and most of all, regret.

“ i don’t hate you, captain, “ you pop the bottle open. “ i’m sure anya doesn’t either. well, anya wouldn’t bring herself to hate you even if she wanted to anyways. “

he doesn’t respond but his permanent wide–eyed gaze continues to stare you down.

“ i’ll give you 5mg of oxycodone before i do your bandages. i’ll give you your second dose afterwards.”

you shake out two pills from the bottle. “ . . .all of this isn’t really your fault. misguided karma can be cruel. however, “ you slowly opened his jaw, the slimy sound of his muscles moving against each other makes you cringe. you see why anya can get more nauseated off of this. “ misplaced trust in a bitter person who’s undeserving of trust in the first place is what gets someone like you in a position like this. “

you hold his jaw, his exposed, irritated muscles twitch erratically against your protective layer of skin. your stomach swirls with a sinking feeling. curly starts to breath heavily, his pupil dilates. you hold one pill between your index finger and thumb. hot tears prickle at the corner of your twitching eyes as a shaky grin stretches across your face, and a bead of sweat rolls down your brow. you feel sick to the utter depths of your stomach.

“ don’t struggle , yeah? “

this wasn’t your worst moment right , curly?

0 days before the crash.

“ curly, fuck, where did he walk away to? “ you stopped curly in the middle corridors, pulling him back by his broad shoulder with a firm hand. curly, who’s face is full of panic and confusion, frantically responds back. “ i-i don’t know but i’m going to go find him to try and talk—“

“ i-i’m sorry, talk? this goes beyond talking at this fucking point! that fucking dog assaulted anya and she’s pregnant! “ you spat, heart full of frustration, “ do you think talking to her assaulter is going to fix shit? do you think doing the bare minimum is going to take back what she went through?! “

he runs a trembling hand through his blond curls. “ i-i understand but—fuck, let me just try—and—and, “

your hand drops to your side and you send him a look of utter disappointment. “ un—fucking—believable. how many times did anya tell you about jimmy? did you know about his shitty behavior even before she got pregnant? assaulted? she doesn’t want to tell me the answer so i’m fucking asking you! “

he stays slient, the guilty expression dawning on his face says it all.

“ . .what a great leader you are, captain. “ you growled, “ allowing that shitty friend of yours to ride this ship and you do barely nothing until the situation blows up in your face. this is what happens when you let your personal emotions dilute your judgment and reason as a leader. this is the outcome. the crew is my responsibility, my ass. if i had it my way, i would of shoved his ass in the cryo pod the second i’ve found out. but alas, i’m not the fucking leader but a damn intern. i held it allll in for a week for this shit? just imagine how anya felt to endure the awful trauma longer than that only for you, the captain, the only person with power, to handle it so horribly. fool.”you turn your heels and stomping back to medical for anya.

4 months after the crash.

“ daisuke. . kiddo, “ you gently call out to him as you find him somberly laying on his back next to the area leading to the cargo. his forearm rests over his eyes.

“ you okay? “

“ no, not really. .it’s just. .i wonder what my mother thinks right now. .she’s probably thinking i’m finally putting my feet into the water, finally learning and figuring out what i should to do in life during this internship. .meanwhile i’m on my back getting wasted off of. .mouthwash. ”

you sit down next to him. you thought about what to say for a prolonged moment before asking him,

“ before all of this, did you enjoy the internship? “

“ i. . .i did. .i was having fun . .with swansea, anya, you, a-and . . “

daisuke lets out a soft sniffle, you just smile solemnly.

“ don’t cry, sunshine. as long as you enjoyed yourself, that’s all that matters. even in the predicament we’re in now. .let’s have hope. once all of this is over, your mother will be proud that you got through this internship and you should tell her allll about what you did and learned with the ol’ man swansea. that man is a hot mess but i know he enjoys you as his intern.”

“ . . .really? “ he meekly asks, peeking at you from under his forearm with teary eyes. god, daisuke looks like a sad puppy.

“ of course, kiddo. “ you force out a happy laugh to appease him. you hate to lie to him but as long as jimmy is attempting to play captain, the situation will continue to spiral down into the abyss. you know with absolute certainty that jimmy was the one who caused the ship to crash. the fact that man pinned the blame on his close friend, who was trying to see good in him, for crashing the ship is beyond disgusting. judging from curly’s recent evaluation from anya before the crash, he did seem a little melancholic. but, for him to drastically make a reckless decision to sabotage the ship and everyone in it? he wouldn’t do that even if it was on his mind. jimmy on the other hand. .

“ oh. .it seems like you beat me to him. is he alright?”anya’s relieved voice rings in your ears. you draw your attention over to your partner who’s walking down the corridor towards you and daisuke. she uncrosses her arms that was once tucked to her chest and you raise a brow.

“ yeah, just a little sad but i was talking to him. how’d you know he was here? “

her gaze averts to the ground and you jump up, anger bubbles in your chest. “ jimmy, wasn’t it? what did he do? he didn’t hurt or yell at you or anything, did he? “

you pace over to her and rest your hands on her shoulders. “ no, no—seriously, i’m okay. . he sent me here to check on daisuke while he took care of some things. i was just surprised you were here. “ it had to be more then that.

sighing heavily, you turn back to daisuke who was now attempting to get back on his feet. “ daisuke, be careful. .has swansea been making you drink that mouthwash stuff again with him? “ you questioned skeptically, walking over to him to assist him back on his feet. wobbling, the brunette boy softly groans as you let him rest his arm loosely around your shoulders for support.

“. .no. .yeah. . i. .may. .kinda, totally have went overboard with it this time. b-but i gave it to jimmy because i didn’t wanna mess with it anymore. “

aggravated, you smack your teeth, “ so you’re saying that he saw you like that and didn’t even bother to help you up himself and sends anya down here instead? i’m so sick of his shit! some fuckin’ wannabe captain he is! you could of threw up and choked on your own damn vomit! that careless fucker knew that! “

“ you’re starting to sound like swansea. “ daisuke mutters through his drunken haze.

anya speaks up in a soft voice that’s mean to calm you. “ (name), you have to calm down. i understand that you’re upset. .but we need to rest daisuke down somewhere in the lounge. “

your eye twitch and your lips purse. she was right. plus, you don’t want daisuke to hear all of this while he’s struggling with his own inner conflicts. even the effects of the dire situation is dawning down on him and taking a toll on his mental health.

but fuck, you’re tired of being quiet.

d o s o m e t h i n g

? ? ¿ ! months before the ????

you can’t sleep. a soft sigh leaves your lips. anya’s body lightly stirs besides you. you don’t want to leave her but it’d be right to check up on curly to see if he needs his meds. there’s no time clock but curly’s groaning and restlessness indicates you that it’s time for his painkillers. if he is in pain, you’ll just give him his meds and come back to anya. it’s been a straight shot to the medical room ever since the crash. the foam has completely fucked up the sleeping quarters. . maybe it’s for the better or worse now. everyone is bunched together in the lounge room with extra sleeping beds from the medical. luckily, there hasn’t been any problems amongst the crew and it’s easier to keep in eye on jimmy.

“ anya, “ you whispered out to her. she lays on her left side, facing you. pieces of her shaggy hair prettily hovers over her tired eyes as they fluttered open. “ yeah? “ she responds back, you send her a small smile, reaching out to brush the strands away from her face.

“ i’m going to go check up on captain in the medical. i’ll. .be back, okay? if this dumb thing goes off, “ you gesture to the broken robot standing an inch away from you and anya’s sleeping bags. thankfully it’s able to go off, albeit broken thanks to jimmy. originally, anya suggested the idea and you couldn’t agree more with it.

“ i’ll be running to you so fast like how i did after i found out that passed my final exams. “ you whispered playfully.

recalling the joyful memory, a soft giggle leaves anya’s lips. she remembered you were so anxious and restless over the final exams that she kept having to pinch you and make you run with her to get your mind off of things. once you found out that you passed med school, you ran so fast to anya while she was waiting outside of the campus for you and nearly ran her over. she nods with a beautiful smile that you missed so much. anya was always a carefree woman who was willing to go through hardships with a cool–mind and solutions. but, after this overhaul trip going downhill and the terrible shit that’s happened and is currently happening—the light in her eyes is duller. it mirrors her reserved and almost timid-like behavior now.

that’s not who anya is—that’s not her and that’s not who she should by the damages of a terrible, insecure man who refuses to swallow down his own ever-growing problems like a hard pill and take responsibility for his self-sabotaging actions. you bet he’d choke on himself and self-destruct if he ever tried swallowing. all he ever does is vomit and project himself onto others.

“ okay. we can also clean his bandages after we’ve rested. “ anya suggests.

you shake your head, ghosting a hand over her belly. the bump has slowly been getting bigger but isn’t very noticeable to others. “ there’s no we, just me. the last time you got nauseated, you asked jimmy to give curly his meds while i was busy with daisuke and. .he. .” you trailed off and sighed with frustration. you still can’t get over anya telling you the truth about jimmy getting frustrated at her for asking him to give curly his meds because of her nausea.

absolutely horrible.

before anya can say anything, you give her a quick kiss on the forehead.

“ i’ll be back this time. “

you got up carefully to not alert the broken robot and paced towards medical. as you did, you glanced around the lounge to see who’s in their respective sleeping bags.

daisuke is laid out asleep.

swansea has been sleeping by the utility and now you know why he was does. you don’t have any objections to it. it’s only fair for the sunshine to be preserved.

jimmy is no where to be found. cockpit, maybe?

as you near the medical, alarming sounds of struggling and curly’s groans made your heart drop. frantically, you sprinted towards the door and slammed it open.

s e c o n d c h a n c e

“ wh-what the fuck are you doing, jimmy?! g-get off of him! “ her

you ran over to the self-proclaimed captain who was hunching over the defenseless curly, shoving pills into his mouth and down his throat while beating at his stomach. with all of your strength, you shoved jimmy backwards, pulling him away from curly’s mutilated body, who helplessly laid there in the bloodied medical bed, crying and groaning in pain.

“ are you out of your fucking mind, you crazy fuck?!”you screamed at him while he has this mixed, horrid look of panic and frustration on his unshaven face. the pill bottle clutched in his hand made a loud rattling noise as he drops them on the tile floor and it rolls next to you.

“ i-i— h-he was. .m-making too much n-n—oomph! “

thanks to your adrenaline, you shoved him—hard, causing him to stumble back against the desk. pill bottles tumble and crash onto the floor.

hurried footsteps approach the medical from the loud crashes and yelling.

“ so your fucking solution was to beat up that poor man who can’t even goddamn defend himself now? let me fucking remind you since you’re too busy trying to play captain and can’t take responsibility! that man is laying there, the way he is now, because of—ugh! “

in a burst fit of blind rage, he returns the favor and presses his heavy palms against your chest, harshly shoving you backwards. you try to maintain your balance, but your foot accidentally steps on one of the pill bottles, and you fall backwards onto the solid floor, hitting your head. hard.

crack!

you almost instantly black out. not before hearing a loud gasp and anya’s frantic shouting.

“ (name)! j-jimmy. . . at . .did. . .u do?! “

¿!!! ?????????

just me and you vs the world, anya.

“ seriously? this show is so horrible, anya! even my dad who has terrible taste in tv shows, can’t watch this! “ you groaned exaggeratedly, sinking your cheek into your palm, slouching on the elbow of the couch. anya shrugs with a smug smile, placing the tv remote down on the coffee table.

“ well that’s tooo bad, hun. i need to binge this show to clear my mind out completely. all i need is my go-to-combo i usually get from wendy’s. “

you roll your eyes, “ it could of been at least mcdonald’s or something. but. .wendy’s? “

“ they have the best frosties! don’t act you dislike it because they messed up your order once. “ she giggles, leaning over to playfully hit at your ankle.

the show starts and you can barely stomach it. you don’t understand how she zeros out her mind from watching this stuff. it’s so cheesy and bad.

you peer over at anya and just as expected, she’s watching it like she’s into it. anya’s sitting up against the couch, legs crossed while she’s wearing a oversized t-shirt and pajamas. her heap of black shaggy hair that reaches just below her shoulders, was beautifully messy. usually at night, she doesn’t really bother with it. her fair skin shines pretty under the tv light. her pretty lashes fluttering and downturned eyes glistening with interest as she watch the corny reality tv show—god, she’s so breathtaking.

“ so, anya. “ you speak up as soon as the tv cuts to commercials. her undivided attention draws over to you and you cast her a goofy, suggestive smile.

“ while this commercial runs, wanna makeout? “

she blinks at you several times as if to process your question and bursts out laughing.

“ ewwww! “

“ ewwww? what the hell, baby! c’meree. “ you get off the elbow of the couch to playfully grab and pull at the laughing anya’s arm to pull her closer.

“ we’re not some bored teenager couple, you know! “

you successfully pull her into you, wrapping your arms around her body. “ feels like we are when i’m with youu~ “ you coo, puckering your lips at her with teasing intent.

anya blocks your lips with her palm and you immediately lick at it. she gasps and retracts her hand away, allowing you the opportunity to topple her over and kiss all over her pretty face and pouty lips.

“ hehe, (name)! “

once you’re done with your barrage, you bury your face into her neck.

“ marry me once me and you become doctors, anya~ ” you croon, melting into her body.

there’s a momentary pause before her smiling voice responds to you, full of adoration,

“ of course. i wouldn’t have it any other way, (name).”

??? ??¿ is it finally over ??¿!

your eyes peel open, a surge of sharp pain and confusion shoots through your body like a needle. but, once your gaze immediately locks onto the woman you love above you, your heart calms a little. she doesn’t notice that you’re now awake and stares off into somewhere with brooding eyes.

“ a-anya? “

anya’s eyes widen and she snaps her gaze down at you in surprise as your head is currently laid on her lap. tears swell in the corner of her reddened eyes.

“ y-you’re awake again! i-i thought you were finally. .”

despite not being able to move your body from the waist under and through the pain pounding in your head, you smile weakly at her.

“ f-finally what? i-i told you i’ll come back to you. although. . .“ your eyes search the dim setting around you. it’s blurred and bright. it seems like you and anya are in the medical? didn’t you come back from medical after checking up on curly?

c o n f u s i o n

“ why aren’t we in bed? we’re in medical right now. . “

anya’s lips trembles as she struggles to not cry.

“ we’ve decided to rest in here and talk like we’re a bored teenage couple. “

you let out a weak laugh. “ r-really? my br-brain is all over the place right now. everything is starting to feel and look fuzzy. “

your eyes starts to dilate and unfocus but they never leave anya. she says nothing, and quietly caresses your cheek.

your skin has become more discolored while you were unconscious.

how many hours?

how many hours has it been since she locked herself with you and captain? and how many times has her thoughts endlessly ponder and ponder over jimmy’s words he once said to her months back?

t a k e c a r e o f i t

“ a-anya. .? “

anya forces out a smile. her quivering fingers brush away the sweaty hair sticking to your forehead.

my hands are s h a k i n g.

“ . .y-yes? “ anya can barely contain the heartbreak in her voice.

“ w-we’ll take of it together. “ you slurred, “ o-once i get my l-license, i’ll support us and you don’t need to w-worry about a thing. o-once the baby is born, i’ll take care of them while you st-study to get into medical school again. i-i’ll. .even help you. .too. i st-still have my. .notes. “

dark red liquid seeps down your nose. she sees the light becoming dull in your dilated (e/c) hues that she adored so much.

the external bleeding and swelling in your head is pulling you under.

a quiet sob slips from her throat and she gently brings your head up to her chest. her body shudders as she weeps.

there’s a few broken whimpers that sounds far too strangled to be hers or yours.

“ . . d-don’t cry, an. .ya, i. .i’m just g-gonna sleep. y. .you holding. .me like this. .makes me feel at ease. .i. .can finally sleep. .without. .leaving. .ou. .”

your eyes vanish behind discolored eyelids and your head slack against her.

and there’s a gaping hole akin to a black hole that swallows everything that bounded her down, her dreams, her hopes, her love, her fear, her emotions.

what’s left is reason—a reason to the best decision that anya alone can finally act.

with a strangely calm mind and red-rimmed solemn grey eyes, she glances up at the few bottles of pills now left on the desk.

you know you’re better than this.

m a k e n o m i s t a k e , t h i s i s n ‘ t m y w o r s t m o m e n t.

far from it. this is the best decision i’ll ever make.

i’ll take care of it.

everything’s black—but you hear banging, voices, bottles rattling, pained whimpering and strangled noises that sounds similar to a heartbroken man crying.

you slip back into momentary consciousness. through blurred vision, you see a slumped figure above you. you can’t identify who it is but red smears leaves a bit of a hard contrast to your unfocused eyes. without thinking, your feeble hand reach out and you’re only able to make contact with their chin, just with the tips of your fingers.

from one small touch, you can tell the skin long since lost its warmth and now is cold to the touch.

an unknown sorrow strikes your chest and you finally pass with a heart full of confusion, leaving it in a headlock.

#anya x reader #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #anya x reader mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing

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justdontaskme · 10 hours ago

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Home Sick (Leah Williamson x Reader)

A/N: It's been so long! I'm trying to get back into things but don't be surprised if I dip again, unfortunately. I want to go back and finish some of my WIPs but needed to get something out. Let me know what you think!

Normally, a day off from practice was a godsend, and you’d spend most of the day tangled in bed with your girlfriend. The day would be filled with laziness as you both enjoyed the simplicity and stillness the rare day of no obligations could hold.

Yet, today, at this very moment, you felt as if you were at your wit’s end. And said girlfriend was the source of much of the current frustration.

You’ve been slaving away in the kitchen since you woke up this morning, preparing to feed your whole team as they were scheduled to arrive later today. If you were being honest, there was a part of you that was beginning to regret even deciding to host, but it was too late now.

Ordinary team hangouts were usually chill, with all the girls coming over for drinks and a movie or game night. Today though, you had planned an early Friendsgiving dinner. Well, it was actually Emily’s idea after she heard you were feeling extra homesick this year.

Your fellow American picked up on your sour mood lately, and she hounded you until you admitted that you had seen a bunch of videos about people already planning out Thanksgiving menus. In fact, your family group chat had been going off with your parents asking for a head count for the special dinner and any dish requests.

Since neither you nor Emily were going to make it home for the holiday, it only made sense for you two to celebrate this holiday with your new team. It didn’t matter that they didn’t quite understand the hype of this specific holiday here on the other side of the pond, they were more than happy to learn and eat.

When word got to Leah, she was onboard instantly, wanting to do whatever she could to help alleviate any feeling of you missing home. While you loved and appreciated your girlfriend for wanting to help, right now you really just needed her to get out of your way.

“Leah! Get out of the kitchen!” you said, shooing your girlfriend away before she could knock something else over. You grabbed another dish towel and started wiping up the sauce the blonde managed to get all over the counter.

“I’m just trying to help,” she said, standing right behind you with a bunch of paper towels in hand, causing you to run straight into her when you turned around.

After throwing the dirty towel into the sink to rinse later, you grabbed Leah’s shoulders so you could face her directly, “I know, babe, but right now you are literally stressing me out more than you are helping me.”

The blonde pouted, visibly deflating, her voice mumbled, “I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

Your face softened at her words. Leah really was just trying to help, but with a million different things going on in the kitchen at once she was more a hazard than anything else. A hand went up, cupping her cheek.

“I know you want to help, but cooking has never been your strong suit,” you said, your voice light to let her know you were teasing. “How about you help instead by sitting right here,” you patted the kitchen counter that was currently free of anything, “and keep me company?”

“I could do that,” she smiled, stepping away from you just enough that she could hop up and place herself in the open space you had previously cleared for her.

Once she was settled, you took a step forward, standing between her legs, “You’ll be the best helper from right here.”

She dipped her head down, stealing a quick kiss from your lips. “Anything else you need from me?”

“I just need you to sit there and tell me I look pretty,” you told her, your arms slipping around her as you hid your face in her neck.

“Oooo, complimenting my beautiful and gorgeous girlfriend. My speciality,” she grinned, her hands running up and down your back soothingly.

As Leah sat there, with her cheek resting against the top of your head, she whispered all the sweet nothings you wanted to hear into your ear. It helped calm your racing mind as you started to refocus on the task at hand.

Reluctantly, you stepped out of Leah’s embrace, one hand sitting on her thigh as you turned and took in the kitchen, mentally planning out what dish needed attention next. You left Leah to attend to your dishes, asking Leah to taste things here and there. In your mind, since she was the pickiest eater on the team, if it passed Leah’s taste tests, then it would be good enough for the others.

If anyone asked, you would deny it, but you literally almost cried in relief when Alessia and Emily showed up almost two hours later. Your friends being the extra sets of hands you desperately needed in the kitchen. With their help, things started moving much more smoothly.

As the day went on, your teammates slowly started to filter in with drinks, other homemade dishes, or desserts in hand. Now that you had helpers, Leah was free to play hostess, checking in on everyone and making sure you were supplied with drinks that Katie was kind enough to mix for everyone. A few of your teammates offered their help, but with the kitchen being as small as it was, you, Emily, and Alessia were better off handling the food.

Steadily, the house filled with smells of all the different food as things were almost done. The space in your apartment was becoming almost nonexistent, but it was obvious your teammates were enjoying themselves if their laughs and screams were anything to go by. Despite what some would consider chaos, this is exactly what you needed.

As the last few dishes were either finishing up or were being reheated, you three finally took a nice break to catch up on drinks and gossip.

Alessia was telling a story about something Tooney had gotten herself into back in the day when you felt a pair of arms slide around your waist from behind.

“Everything alright, sweetheart?”

You turned your head to find Leah flashing you a bright grin. Her smile was one of the reasons you were enjoying yourself so much despite all the crazy and hard work from prepping and cooking over the past few days.

“Everything is perfect,” you told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, squeezing you a little tighter. She held you in her arms, joining in on your conversation with Emily and Alessia, only disappearing once to refill your drink for you.

When the timer went off from the oven, you felt like a huge weight was lifted off of your shoulders. Your friends chuckled as they watched you slip out of your girlfriend’s arms and back to the oven.

With a huge sigh of relief, you slipped on the oven mitts and went to grab the star of the night. While having a turkey was a staple for the holiday, you decided to forgo it to keep your sanity for the day.

Instead, you decided to try your hand at something new that you felt would garner much more appreciation. After triple checking that everything was cooked and ready, you gave Leah a nod to get everyone ready to eat.

“Dinner is ready!” she called, watching as a few of the young ones and Katie started playfully shoving each other in their haste to get first in line for food. You watched as everyone lined up buffet style and served themselves before looking for a space to eat, either at the table, on the couch, or up against the wall.

After everyone else was served, you grabbed a plate and started making a plate for your girlfriend as she went to reprimand the young ones for making a mess on the coffee table.

“This is so good, Y/N! Can you cook for us all the time?” Beth said around a mouthful of food.

You rolled your eyes, “I already do, Beth,” you reminded her, thinking of all the days Beth would show up unannounced, looking for food and company since Viv moved to Manchester.

“True, but you don’t make all this,” she countered, stealing a piece of bread off of Steph’s plate when the Australian was dealing with Kyra trying to overload her plate with food.

“Thanksgiving special, so enjoy this while you can because I will not be cooking like this for some time,” you said, handing Leah her plate of food, when she came back.

“Aren’t you eating?” she asked after thanking you, taking a seat so you could then sit in her lap. It was a little harder for her to eat this way, but she really just wanted you close. She felt like she barely saw you today as soon as people started showing up.

“Maybe later, I just need a sec,” you told her, urging her to eat while the food was still hot. Honestly, you had quite a fill from taste testing and right now you were content to sit back and watch everyone enjoy themselves as long as you had a drink in hand.

“I’m a bit surprised there weren’t Smileys on the menu, with Leah living here and all,” Alessia said, digging into her food.

You chuckled, seeing Leah’s mouth fall upon at the open attack, “We’re working on expanding her horizons on her food.”

Your girlfriend turned to you, her face full of betrayal, “I eat more than just Smileys!”

“Oh, I know, babe. Why do you think I made a ham instead of a turkey? Now you’ll be set with a ham sandwich for like the next week,” you said, grabbing a napkin to wipe the bit of food that spilled from the side of her mouth.

“Lucky! Now you don’t have to cook. Not that you really did much of that before.”

“I can cook!” Leah nearly shouted, sitting back from her food, glaring at her teammates.

“No, Leah. You can heat things up. There’s a big difference,” Lia said, jumping on the train to tease her best friend.

“I would take more offense to that, but you lot are just jealous that I have a girlfriend who is not only insanely pretty but loves to cook for me,” Leah said, sitting up proudly and sending you a quick wink.

“I mean she’s not my girlfriend, but she does keep me fed pretty regularly,” Beth reminded her.

“And for that comment, Beth, you are not allowed to take any leftovers home with you,” Leah asserted, a satisfactory smirk in place when her friend immediately tried to backtrack all statements.

“Are we going to go around the table and say what we’re grateful for like they do in movies?” Kyra asked, switching topics before Leah and Beth’s banter could continue.

You waved your hand, dismissing the idea while you took a rather large swig of your drink. The alcohol started to kick in and relax you more now that all of your responsibilities for the day were now over, “No, not really. I don’t know about you, Foxy, but we never really did that at my house. It sounds sweet in practice, but it was pretty awkward the one year we tried it. You are more than welcome to share if you want, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“I, for one, have something to say,” Leah stated, chasing her last bite with a bit of water before she cleared her throat. “It may sound corny and everything, but I want to say I’m thankful for having all of you in my life, especially this one right next to me. After doing my ACL, having you lot support me through it all and being able to share things like this is a dream.”

“Stop being so emotional, you’re going to make me cry,” Katie shouted, pretending to fan away imaginary tears in her eyes.

“Okay, okay, one more thing. Last one to clean up after themself is on dish duty!” Leah exclaimed, taking the last bite from her plate before rushing to put the dish in the sink.

From there it was a mad rush to the sink, as a few snuck around, packing some food to go home with them as the chaos reigned around them.

You continued to watch everything unfold with rapt interest, refilling your glass and cheersing with Foxy who was following your lead. With these people you considered a second family, you truly felt a sense of home, healing that little patch of homesickness you had been feeling lately.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine

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moosesarecute · 2 days ago

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Day 4: Paid Time Off

@azrielappreciationweek

Masterlist

“They’re incredible,” Feyre said in awe.

Her eyes glowed from the light of Starfall and also from the couple dancing in the middle of the ballroom.

Rhys felt his heart warm at the sight. Y/N and Azriel’s yearly dance. The first one in fifty years. It made him feel a comforting sensation that everything was as it should. Their dance truly ment a lot to everyone in their family.

“They truly are,” he answered her. “Surprised?”

“I never expected them to be such good dancers,” Feyre stated.

Rhys did agree with her. Their beautiful movements surprised him every year.

“Y/N would ask Azriel, Cassian and I to dance every year at Starfall. We always said no. We’re warriors. Warriors don’t dance ballroom dances. Then, suddenly a year, Azriel said yes. I think Y/N was just as surprised as the rest of us,” Rhys chuckled a little as the memory.

“What made him say yes?” Feyre seemed almost in trance looking at their careful and steady movements. The love that bloomed from their gazes could be seen through the entire room.

“It was their first Starfall as a couple. None of us knew, but we probably should have guessed it. Starfall has always been an important day for the two of them. And, of course, none of us know why.”

Y/N and Azriel ended the dance with a small kiss before they made their way back to Mor and Cassian. Azriel’s hand was carefully placed on Y/N’s back and his shadows still held her dress, making sure she didn’t trip on it.

“But that doesn’t explain why they’re so good at it. I never would have been such a good dancer if I only danced once a year.”

“Y/N loves dancing,” Rhys explained. “I still remember her coming crying to my room after she had started the “wife-training” as we called it. She hated the thought that she enjoyed a part of it. But she absolutely loved dancing. I have a theory that they dance all the time when nobody is around.”

“It should simmer for five minutes,” Azriel said before he moved over to you.

You sat at the table, trying to find the right place for the puzzle piece you held in your hand.

Azriel picked the piece from your hand and immediately put it in the right spot. He laughed as you let out an annoyed sigh.

“Come here, love,” he said as he pulled you up from your chair.

You couldn’t help but smile when you realized what it was he wanted.

Azriel’s strong hands held your waist as you moved through your kitchen. Your arms were wrapped around his neck. Your feet were moving together in carefully chosen patterns.

Your smiles and small laughs only grew as he lifted your hand from his shoulder and twirled you around.

The song you danced to was the song that played the first Starfall you were together. A memory you would pull forward and send into Azriel’s mind every time you danced.

His hazel eyes were looking deeply into yours and your violet ones looked back. Your smiles lightened up your entire face.

With a last twirl Azriel dipped you down and his lips met yours.

It was incredible how he still managed to give you butterflies even after centuries of being mates.

He pulled you up again and gave you another small kiss before he let go of you.

“The dinner should be done now,” he said and moved towards the stove.

And as you stood and admired your mate’s beauty you got reminded once more that it really was the little things that made life special.

Divider by @cafekitsune

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x rhysand's sister #rhysand’s sister #azrielappreciationweek2024 #azriel appreciation week

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hoffmansgirl · 19 hours ago

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MILLION DOLLAR MAN. ━ father charlie mayhew ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✿ ⋆˚⊹

∙ a/n. took ages but it's based on this thought of mine & a lana del rey song (loosely) ♡ this shit is really kinky & not for everyone, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! i'm sorry...

∙ warnings. PURE FILTH. i mean it. corpses, death, all that grotesquerie stuff... slight masochism!? charlie and reader are equally mentally ill... really. blood kink, blasphemy, charlie refers to himself as "god", praise, oral (f&m receiving), multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, knife play, whipping, crying, blood once again. ∙ wc. 3534

❝ 𝕿hat's... beautiful", you smiled, staring at Charlie's work; twelve corpses ━ homeless people, to be exact ━ positioned to resemble The Last Supper.

You couldn't help but smirk at the sight; the man Charlie put in the middle was positioned in a way that represented Jesus. You knew him; he had asked you for money many times, claiming he was hungry ━ you had suspected he spent every penny on meth, though.

You believed Charlie wholeheartedly when he claimed that all he did was for greater good. You weren't scared nor worried ━ if anything, you admired him and his dedication to everything he believed in. You watched him stand in the middle of the abandoned Church, admiring his own work; the image making your heart beat faster. He was covered in blood of his victims, and you should feel ashamed for the heat pooling low in your stomach ━ but you didn't.

Your careful steps echoed in the air as you walked over to Charlie, and he was quick to wrap his arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, covering your little dress with blood in the process.

A rush of adrenaline filled your chest as you hummed, Charlie's touch gentle and soft ━ as you looked at the blasphemous image in front of you, you wondered how'd he get that way. He never talked about his past; saying that all he needed was now, in front of him, clear as day.

"Look at our masterpiece, Angel", his low voice cut through the air like a knife ━ and in the moment you realised that maybe he was worth cutting yourself for.

"Our? I barely did anything", you chuckled, his presence behind you comforting; he was so big, muscular, making you feel safe; how ironic, you thought, looking at the image in front of you.

Charlie's crimson hand lingered on your neck, before he grabbed your chin, making you turn your head towards him.

"You're here, with me", he whispered, his words meaningful, familiar spark in his eyes; the very one that made you fall in love with him. Charlie's thumb rubbed against your lower lip, smearing the blood all over it, adoration overcoming his features as he looked at you. "And it's enough".

You turned to face him fully, taking his thumb into your mouth slowly; Charlie's eyes darkened and he swallowed hard, pressing it down on your tongue. You swirled your tongue around his digit, lapping at the blood, the taste making your head spin. You held onto his forearm, and he pulled you closer, grabbing a fistful of your hair, his sick need matching your own.

Before you knew it, you were pressed flush against the wall with Charlie's lips on yours ━ tongues meeting in a chaotic dance, rolling over each other messily.

"I'd follow you anywhere", you breathed out when he moved down to nib at your neck. He let out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your throat in the most delicious way. "Anywhere".

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?", you chanted, your knees cushioned by the padded kneeler. Charlie hummed softly; your words filled the air like the most beautiful song.

A mix of incense and Charlie's strong cologne reached your nostrils, somewhat comforting and calming as you felt his presence behind you.

"Beautiful", he muttered, almost as if he was speaking to himself. Your heart fluttered at the praise as you shifted, the sheer dress you wore rising up your thighs with the movement. "Go on".

"The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?", your eyes opened, lashes fluttering at the sight of Charlie; he towered over your kneeling form, looking down at you with a hint of awe and adoration in his features. You eyed his chest, covered only by a see-through, white gown ━ he looked like an angel, which, in your eyes, he was.

"And who is your Lord?", Charlie's hand was now in your hair, forcing you to meet his hard, demanding gaze. You meant it when you answered: "You. It's you, Charlie. You're the only God I want to worship".

He expected these words to leave your mouth, but he could never tire of hearing them. You spoke with such confidence, not a trace of regret or fear in your voice, and his his cock twitched at the sight; you were so obedient, so good to him.

Charlie offered you a hand, which you gladly accepted, getting up from the kneeler. Your legs shook slightly as he pulled you close, one of his hands on your face, the other grabbing your hip. His thumb brushed against your cheek, the gesture gentle and loving, his eyes scanning over your face.

"You've been so good for me", he whispered, and you leaned into his touch, pressing your body even closer to his; it simply was never enough. "I love you".

His lips pressed against yours, deliberately and slowly, as if you had all the time in the world. His smell lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Charlie bit your bottom lip, drawing blood in process, lapping at the crimson liquid greedily, careful not to miss a drop. You whined, and Charlie was quick to lift you up in his arms, walking over to the altar.

You tried to deepen the kiss, but Charlie had other plans, dropping you on a wooden chair; the very one he sat in during masses and preaches.

"Greed is a sin", he whispered in a serious tone, brushing his lips against yours for the last time, before he fell to his knees before you. "Patience, my Angel".

You watched with wide eyes and heaving chest as Charlie spread your legs as wide as he could, lifting your dress ━ he gazed up at you, caressing the soft skin of your thighs with his big hands. You shivered when he tugged at the waistband of your lacy thong, and your hips rose up immediately, allowing him to pull it down your legs.

The cold air hitting your ━ now exposed ━ pussy made you gasp, as you clutched the edges of the chair tightly. Charlie chuckled darkly, watching the way your little hole clenched in anticipation.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pressing soft kisses around your pussy, giving you a sneak peek of what was about to come.

"You're mine to worship", he bit back a moan at the taste of your soft skin, and he didn't even get to the best part yet. "Mine to love", he met your gaze, and you nodded mindlessly, getting lost in his dark irises. "Mine to fuck".

As soon as the words left his mouth, he licked a deliberate stripe from your opening to your clit. Your head fell back, the rush of sitting on the specific chair while having his mouth on you made you feel so powerful. Charlie's tongue moved with purpose, circling around your clit slowly, before sucking it into his mouth. Your breaths came out in shallow gasps, the occasional groans leaving his mouth vibrating against your core, causing you to shake in his grasp.

"Charlie, fuck", you moaned, tugging at his hair, knowing how much he liked it. His eyes fluttered shut as he teased your entrance with the very tip of his tongue, lapping at the arousal that continued to drip out of you. "God, I'm━ I'm sorry, I'm gonna cum", you cried out; the endless flicks of his tongue, the groans leaving his mouth, the sight of his beautiful face between your legs ━ it became too much, fire pooled in your lower abdomen, ready to explode any second now.

Your loud cry echoed across the empty church as you came, and Charlie's eyes snapped open to watch as your face twisted in pleasure, a mixture of curses and shallow gasps leaving your mouth, and he swore he could cum from the sight alone.

He lapped at your pussy, eager to taste every single drop you had to offer. You twitched in overstimulation, slowly coming down from your high, sighing in relief when Charlie moved to kiss your inner thighs lovingly.

Not even five minutes later, you were already in Charlie's room, bloody clothes laying all over the floor; the memory of your latest crime, how you stood by his side the whole time ━ it made Charlie even needier.

You run your hands over his biceps at which desperate groan left his mouth ━ then he was quick to take the butt-less leather chaps and gown off his body before pushing you onto the bed.

Sick smile appeared on Charlie's mouth as he grabbed the metal-covered whip, along with a knife from his drawer; a rush of adrenaline run down your spine at the sight.

You took a second to admire his well-trained body as his back faced you, his muscles clenching as he moved around the room to get everything he needed. You were already breathless, and when he started moving towards you, his gaze predatory and dangerous, you were shaking. Not an ounce of fear in your body as he placed the items on the bedside table, his cock bobbing in the air as he walked; your mouth watered at the sight and his size that never failed to amaze you.

"Get on the floor". The harshness of his voice was enough for you to obey, sinking down on your knees right in front of him. "Worship your man. Let's see if you can handle me", he teased, knowing that in fact, you could, even if you struggled and choked. He challenged you, but you just smiled, knowing that the tables would turn soon enough.

"You know I can, Father", his cock twitched at the nickname ━ before he could respond, you were already grabbing his thighs, face to face with his giant cock, pressing a soft kiss on the tip. He hummed, satisfied, running a hand through your hair, tugging at it, forcing you to open your mouth a little wider. You smirked up at him before obeying, taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue and pressing it against the underside. You hollowed your cheeks, beginning to bob your head, taking more and more of him in the process, getting used to his size slowly but surely.

"Fuck, you have the dirtiest little mouth", Charlie groaned, watching you, beginning to thrust into your mouth as he grew needier. You struggled as he hit the back of your throat, your eyes falling open to look at him. His head fell back, chest heaving with uneven breaths, and you pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you to him, still. You quickly replaced your mouth with your hands, wrapping them around his shaft, jerking him off. Your tongue darted out to lap at his balls, massive and full of cum, and a satisfied moan left your mouth; you loved pleasuring him almost as much as he loved seeing you on your knees for him.

Shameless groan left Charlie's mouth, your small hands around him and your mouth on his balls driving him crazy. "I need to feel you. Now".

Your eyes fell open and you moved to take him in your mouth again, causing Charlie to hiss, taking a mental note to punish you for disobeying him later. Yet he couldn't pull away, not now ━ not when your mouth felt so good, so warm and welcoming. He thrusted his hips lazily, and you stopped your movements, letting him take the lead.

"You fucking love it, don't you? You love choking on my dick. You love letting me use your mouth however I please", he panted, feeling himself getting close, the obscene sounds leaving your mouth only spurring him on further. You tried to nod, which was nearly impossible with the speed in which he was fucking your throat.

"I'm gonna cum. Fuck, swallow it, swallow it all", he hissed, head falling back; your nails digged into his thighs, soft moan leaving your occupied mouth, and that seemed to be his last straw.

His cock twitched, and spurts of his hot cum finally painted your tongue and the back of your throat.

He pulled off your mouth with a swift movement, and you swallowed every single drop, the taste making you whimper, as you tried to catch your breath.

"Good fucking girl. Show me", he grabbed your chin, pressing his thumb against your lower lip; you obeyed, chest heaving with uneven breaths and throat sore, as you sticked your tongue out. His eyes darkened, a satisfied hum leaving his mouth, before he forced you to stand up, only to practically throw you on the bed like a doll.

Charlie grabbed the knife from a nightstand; your eyes widened and your legs closed, a spark of excitement running down your spine.

Charlie spread your legs, kneeling in between them; knife forgotten for just a second as he tugged at your dress, determined to get it off your body. It was thrown on the floor in an instant, and he was already lining himself up with your entrance.

You moaned in unison when his tip stretched you out ━ smug smile adorning his face at the visible impatience building within you.

"You're so tight", he rasped, pressing your thigh against the mattress. You cried out when he buried himself inside of you fully in one, swift movement. Your walls struggled to adjust to his size, and you tried to catch your breath. "So warm. My God. You really are an Angel, aren't you?", Charlie muttered, grabbing the knife while beginning to thrust into you ━ and your pussy clenched at the sight.

Then he pressed the flat side of the knife against your skin; the coldness on your burning skin made you gasp. The feeling of Charlie's thick cock fucking into you over and over again, combined with the thrill of being completely at his mercy making you gush.

"You have no idea how badly I want to cut my name into your skin", he groaned, pressing the blade into your skin lightly. You gripped at the sheets and your head fell back. The sound of your skin slamming together filled the room, along with your cries, and Charlie's loud breathing.

"Do it", you begged, and Charlie's hand wrapped around your throat, cutting your airflow in an instant.

You should be scared; he was the one having all the control, and, most importantly, he held the knife against your skin. Yet, in your sick mind, there was no room for fear ━ not when he slammed into you as if his life depended on it, mumbling incoherent praises right above you.

The truth was, you had all the power over him; he sacrificed everything for you, only for you.

So when the blade pressed into the skin on your chest, cutting through it, some blood flowing out of the wound ━ all you did was moan, feeling your orgasm taking over you slowly ━ and Charlie's hand left your throat, letting you take a deep breath.

"I'm going to cum", you cried out, the sharp sting of where he cut a big C into your skin leaving you whimpering.

Your blood covered his chest and stomach as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours, running the flat side of his knife over your cheek. The pain combined with pleasure of his restless thrusts sent you spiralling, and your back arched into the air as you soaked his cock.

"Good fucking girl. Come on, give me everything you got", he talked you through the waves of pleasure, sick smile on his face as he watched you cry from overstimulation. You took a second to calm down, enjoying the way he was balls deep inside you, pressing wet kisses down your neck. His hips grinded against yours involuntarily when he reached the bloody C carved out on your chest; he greedily licked at the wound, groaning at the taste.

You whimpered, letting him clean you of your own blood, before you gained enough strength to push him back against the bed, sinking down on his cock.

Charlie's eyes widened ━ he was partially surprised at your sudden dominance; he wouldn't let you do it often; but this time, it just felt right.

You lifted yourself enough to reach the whip from the nightstand. Charlie understood; he understood immediately, sitting up, as you sink down on his thick cock yet again. Some more blood flowed down your body, and he was unable to look away, his eyes almost pleading.

"How many?", you asked casually, although your voice was strangled, your cunt spasming around him in anticipation.

But there was no answer from him. So, smiling wildly, you swinged and whipped his back; the metal cutting through his skin.

Charlie cried out, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. The pain left him trembling, and you were quick to press a soft kiss against his lips. Charlie responded immediately, whimpering into your mouth, his hips snapping upward to meet yours.

"I asked you a question", you whispered, tugging on his hair.

"I... Five. Angel━ J-Just move", he pleaded, and you smiled sweetly; the contrast between the delicious roll of your hips and the whip cutting through his skin yet again made him lightheaded, and he only imagined how much blood flowed from the wounds.

"You're doing so good for me", you praised, beginning to ride him in an inhuman speed, switching between grinding your hips down and bouncing on his big cock. The stretch made you moan, and Charlie was unable to speak, feeling as if he could cum any second now.

Third whip and he was begging you to stop, yet you knew that's not what he wanted. His eyes pleading and wide, and before he knew it, he was cumming inside of you, biting on your shoulder, a desperate cry leaving his mouth.

"Good boy", and you bounced faster, trying to distract him from the pain as you lashed him for the fourth time. "Doin' so good for me. You need to take this. It's your penance". And he was nodding, knowing you were right ━ and he was ready to take any kind of punishment if it meant he could be with you.

After the fifth and last whip, Charlie fell back on the bed, his chest heaving with uneven breaths. He was paralysed ━ more from the pleasure and overstimulation than pain. You let the whip fall on the floor, giving him a minute to breathe.

But Charlie was needy ━ no, he was desperate to feel you trembling under him. A squeal left your mouth when he lifted you off him, pressing your upper half flush against the bed. You arched your back, dizzy from pleasure and need ━ your hips grinding into the air in search of his cock again.

Charlie plunged into you again with one, swift movement, feeling as if he could cum again just at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him deliciously.

You were a whimpering mess when he started thrusting into you in an inhuman speed ━ and you were almost convinced that you could feel his cock in your throat from how deep he was.

"Say my name", he demanded, tugging on your hair, yanking your head back to rest against his chest. The change of angle caused you to gasp, and you did exactly what he asked: screamed his name, the sound echoing through the room and corridor. "You're taking me so good", he stilled for a moment, letting you buck back into him, enjoying the way your ass bounced with every movement.

Charlie, unable to control himself, spanked your ass, obsessed with the way your skin got red, the crimson handprints contrasting with your pale skin.

He let you fuck yourself on his cock, a creamy ring appearing at the base ━ his cum leaking out of your used hole with every sway of your hips. You clenched, holding onto his thighs for balance, and Charlie let go of your hair only to tilt your head towards him.

Your clouded eyes met his, and Charlie smiled lovingly, pressing his lips against yours ━ sweetly and gently.

"Cum for me, Angel", he whispered as you grinded your hips down, almost passing out from the intense pleasure. Your skin felt hot, legs ready to give out any second now.

Charlie sensed it immediately, and he helped you by thrusting up into you, meeting you halfway, a satisfied moan leaving both of you.

It wasn't long until he came inside of you, filling you to the brim for the second time. His orgasm triggered your own. Charlie caressed your sides until you stopped shaking, whispering soft praises into your ear.

A few minutes later you were cleaning Charlie's back, muttering occasional "sorry" when he hissed in pain.

"I'm taking you on a trip tomorrow", he said softly, his eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your delicate hands taking care of his back. You nodded, not pressing any further.

As long as you were with him, nothing else mattered.

ꗃ ⋆ ࣪ . nicholas chavez masterlist 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ | request here ♡

#nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez smut #charlie mayhew #nicholas alexander chavez #charlie mayhew smut #charlie mayhew x reader #father charlie mayhew #nicholas alexander chavez x reader #father charlie mayhew smut #father charlie mayhew x reader #doctor charlie mayhew smut #doctor charlie mayhew x reader #doctor charlie mayhew #nicholas alexander chavez smut

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ghsface · 2 days ago

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Not sure if you are taking request but can we get an angst with Matt where like reader and him are dating for years but recently comments have been getting to her or people have been following her home and eventually she decideds to break up with Matt but Matt takes things to in his hands where he’s tells ppl to stop and they get back together?(Lol sorry if it didn’t make sense but thank you)

𝜗𝜚 new messege .ᐟ.ᐟ

Hey gorgeous, I really liked this idea, I hope you like it too.

You are the only thing I want - Matt Sturniolo

Sumary: You and Matt had a secret relationship and when you decide to make it public everything goes wrong...

Warnings: angst hate messages towards reader, this is just angst with a happy ending

A/n: Leave me ideas to write in my inbox because I'm running out of ideas. I'm sorry if something is misspelled or not understood. My first language is not English. By the way, what do you think of my new theme, in my opinion, it's very cute like the baby pink and light brown. 🩷🧸

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

It had been exactly fourteen months since the first time you and Matt kissed. You hadn't imagined then how important he would become in your life, nor that being with him would be so complicated. Because, although you adored each other and the bond between you grew every day, that relationship had to be kept secret. It was a mutual decision, made for practical reasons. At first, the thrill of secrecy made everything more exciting. But now, you both felt exhausted.

You had spent too many nights talking secretly in the car, dates arranged down to the last detail so as not to be seen, or moments of solitude where, instead of shouting to the world how much you loved each other, you had to hide it like a forbidden secret. The situation was starting to weigh on you.

That night, you were on the couch at Matt's house. He was holding you, and your head was resting on his shoulder while you felt his fingers playing with the strands of your hair.

"Aren't you tired of this?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence.

You raised your head and looked at him, searching his eyes for what he really wanted to say.

"What are you talking about?"

"About having to hide… about not being able to tell anyone how amazing you are." Matt smiled, but his eyes reflected a sadness that you shared.

"Of course I'm tired. Sometimes I wish we could be a normal couple".

"Then let's do it", he suggested, giving your hand a squeeze. "Let's make it public. I don't care what others say. I want to be with you, and I want everyone to know it."

The idea made you feel butterflies in your stomach. The love you had for Matt was bigger than any fear, and the fact that he was willing to share your relationship with his fans made you feel special. You decided to announce it on social media.

When Matt uploaded the first photo of the two of you together, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The image showed an intimate moment, a selfie of the two smiling on the beach, with the sunset in the background. The caption was simple but powerful: “Over a year together, and we’re just getting started.”

For the first few hours, the response was overwhelmingly positive. There were comments from fans congratulating and supporting them: “They look beautiful together,” “Finally someone makes Matt happy as he deserves,” “What a great couple they make!”

But over time, other types of messages began to appear. “Her? Is he really with her?”, “She’s not enough for him,” “She’s only with him for fame, I’m sure she’ll use him to become famous,” “Poor Matt, he deserves someone better.”

At first, you tried not to take them seriously. But every time you checked your phone, more of those comments appeared. There were people criticizing your appearance: “She’s too basic for someone like him,” “She’s not even pretty, how dare she date Matt?”, “Matt deserves someone more attractive.”

The words cut you deeply. You knew you shouldn’t let those comments affect you, but you couldn’t stop the doubts from starting to poison your mind. Every time you looked in the mirror, you started to see those flaws that others mentioned. Insecurity began to invade you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

Matt tried to comfort you whenever he noticed you looking down. Sometimes, during the night, he would catch you reading the comments on your phone, and he would simply take the phone away from you and hold you, whispering that he loved you and that was all that mattered.

“You don’t need to listen to those people, babe,” he said, looking at you with a sincere expression. “They don’t know anything about you, they don’t know how amazing you are.”

The comments didn’t stop, though. Every day they became crueler and crueler. Rumors began to circulate suggesting that you were only with Matt to gain followers, or that you were using his fame to make yourself known. People commented on every aspect of your life, from how you dressed to how you looked without makeup. There were those who said things like, “It’s obvious that she dresses like that to get attention, can’t she dress up better?” or “She should thank Matt for giving her a chance, she’s just an ordinary girl.”

At some point, comments were no longer the only thing. People started following you home, taking photos of you without your permission, and even trying to get close to you to ask you invasive questions. You felt watched and judged at every turn, and little by little, you started to believe that you weren't enough, that maybe all those people were right.

The pressure began to be unbearable. Your self-esteem plummeted, and every time you looked in the mirror, you saw someone who, according to the world, wasn’t enough. Matt tried to cheer you up, to remind you how much he loved you, but you couldn’t stand it anymore.

One night, after one of your most difficult conversations, you asked him to meet you. Matt came over to your house, and as soon as you saw him, he knew something was wrong. He stared at you in silence as you searched for the words to say to him.

“Matt… I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“What are you saying?” he asked, frowning, clearly worried.

“I can’t be in this relationship anymore. The pressure, the comments… they’re tearing me apart. I can’t take it anymore.

Matt looked at you, unable to process what you were saying. He was trying to understand, but the pain in your eyes made it clear to him that you were really hurt.

“But… I love you, and I don’t care what other people think. They don’t understand what we have.”

“I know, Matt. I know you love me, but I can’t go on like this. I’m losing myself in all of this.” It's getting harder and harder to get up and pretend everything is okay.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your tears. “Matt… I can’t keep going like this. I can’t handle the pressure, the comments, the people following me everywhere. I feel like I’m losing myself, and I don’t want to drag you into this. I think… I think it’s best that we break up.”

The goodbye was hard and heartbreaking for both of us. In the days that followed, Matt stayed away from social media, not mentioning anything about what had happened. He isolated himself, trying to understand how the love of his life had to walk away because of the cruelty of others.

Weeks went by as you tried to get over the situation, even though you felt empty. However, one afternoon, while you were checking your social media, you noticed a post from Matt that surprised you.

It was a photo of you and him that Nick had taken, and the message was clear and direct: “I don't give a shit what others say about my girlfriend. I'm with her because I love her, and that's never going to change.”

Matt's public statement was not only a message to his fans, but a promise that he was willing to stand up for what they had. Feeling a torrent of emotions, you decided to call him. When he answered, his voice trembled with emotion.

"I can't go on without you" he said quietly, while you tried to hold back your tears.

"Me neither, Matt… I love you."

That night, they met again, and between tears and hugs, they knew that this time there would be nothing and no one that could separate.

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly, and feel free to leave a request ✮

⤷ Tags... @matthewsroses @sophand4n4 @strnilolover @lolastrniolo

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lucygraysboy · 2 days ago

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“looked like seven when you woke up, too,” he agrees with a chuckle but then begins to pout, clutching his side and rubbing the very spot she just poked. he would be lying if he said that he didn’t like it, though, engaging in this familiar, playful banter with his childhood sweetheart. it’s like coming home after a long day. she’s his safe haven, his favorite person. “no proof ‘cause you disposed of all evidence. smart,” he laughs, but deep down wonders if she’d had more before the show, if it’s a habit now — they play and then she gets drunk and goes home with strangers. he’s not one to judge, but he’s concerned about her safety. “you look so beautiful, that’s why they’re lookin’ at you. they’re tryin’ to figure out what this disney princess is doin’ in nashville,” he whispers, leaning closer to her ear with a smile. their fingers remain laced as he refuses to let go. “alright, i’ll only ride it occasionally.” seeing how worried she is about him, he feels all warm and fluttery inside because it must mean that she still cares very deeply for him. he doesn’t know how easy changing his lifestyle will be, but he’ll do his best to choose other forms of transportation, especially once she’s living with him. “horses are beautiful, but they can be dangerous, too. then again, i could be walkin’ down the street, slip on a puddle and break my neck. accidents happen.” traffic in new york city is so bad that having a motorcycle can be life-saving. “i know, lucy gray. you’re the sweetest person in the world.” she’s proven time and time again that money doesn’t matter. he could own nothing but the shirt on his back, heat up a TV dinner and she’d still be grateful. she deserves a lot more, though. and now that he finally can, he wants to give her the world. “ladies first,” he muses sweetly, letting lucy gray step off the elevator first, his finger still clinging onto hers for dear life. maybe it’s childish, but he likes the little reminder that it’s all happening for real, that there’s still room for reconciliation.

“whoa, it really is.” his eyes flickering to the floor-to-ceiling windows, mesmerized by the world outside. still, his gaze quickly falls back to lucy gray, more interested in taking in her reaction than anything else. she’s way more beautiful than any city, and her childlike wonderment is so infectious, so heart-melting. “we have to stay for dessert ‘cause imagine how breathtakingly beautiful all the city lights must look from up here.” the size of the restaurant is impressive, the air filled with mouthwatering scents that make billy’s stomach growl in anticipation. “good evening, we have a reservation. william h. bonney. a table for two.” the host smiles politely at them, notes something down and leads them to their table, wishing them a lovely time. billy catches a glimpse of the high ceiling, lined with gold and ornately painted. there’s a large, modern bar off the side. they get seated near one of the windows facing the west side, which gives them the perfect view of the leisurely setting sun. billy thanks the host and pulls out a chair for lucy gray to sit on. “secret hang outs are our kind of thing, right?”

“my bad, it felt like seven when i first woke up.” grumpily retorting, deciding to jab him in his side with her pointer finger as they mosey on through the lobby, “no proof anyway.” on how many she downed. catching a few of the heavy stares weighing down on them, the songstress stares back and gives strangers a big friendly smile. something they probably didn’t expect. but like her mama always said, don’t meet people with weird stares back— surprise ‘em and you might just make their day smiling back. something most people in this world have forgotten to do. “that’s interestin’. my mama’s a chatterbox too, so maybe they’ll become friends from that.” a soft laugh sounds from her, pinky still clinging to his. “alright, i’ll show you some more pictures later.” when they wrap up their dinner… that’s currently making her empty belly growl even hungrier now that her mind thinks about all the food she’s getting ready to be able to choose from. “well, you can’t always be in control of that no matter how good you are at it, billy. it’s just— those things are more dangerous than bein’ on a horse, in a car, in a plane. maybe don’t ride it very often.” she still worries, hating the idea of it— feeling scared something bad could happen to him when she’s seen too many motorcycle fatalities. “alrighty, then. i don’t mind waffle house or even a gas station— but i’m excited to try out a fancy meal with you. thanks for comin’ up with this idea and invitin’ me to it.” a happy grin has her face coming alive like a ball of sun, feeling grateful she is getting to be cordial with him again. thinking of how the scenario could be different, he could still be that person who doesn’t talk to her. it just annoys herself because she begins to wonder if there’s ulterior motives — like him just being lonely because him and his girlfriend isn’t working out. before she can sour her own mood with her worries, she counts down the floor numbers instead of dwelling. eyes occasionally flickering up on his rosy cheeks, then back on the numbers, stifling a laugh at why in the world he’s shying up. finally a ding! the doors open up and she steps out first… eager to see this place from way up high like he said. the windows are everywhere so immediately she sees parts of the city before they’ve even reached the host and guest check in. “wow, look at all that… that’s an amazin’ sight to see,” doe eyes lighting up, in awe and completely wowed, “and it’s all like a hidden gem. a secret hang out.”

#billysgirllol

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gabgabwrites · 2 days ago

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MOTHER F*CKER | Patrick Zweig

summary ⇝ Patrick is a local mechanic, and when you come it to get your car checked, he’s in love, but when your little baby girl comes into the frame, Patrick can safely say you’re one hot MILF!

warnings ⇝ language, smut! p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink (well duh), daddy kink if you squint, RUSHED ENDING, it’s actually a little cutesy fanfic. mdni

sorry it’s like my shortest fic 🙁

based off this request here!

Patrick is working as a mechanic, and one day you bring your car in because it's been making these weird sounds.

And when you climbed out the vehicle, Patrick thinks you're hot. You're maybe a little bit younger than him but by good heavens he thinks you're in your prime, and when he sees your little girl climb out the car, interested in looking around the shop in childlike wonder, he almost groans.

You must be taken, a mother who's probably married and is that gorgeous? Yep.

He smiles, wiping the grease off his hands and onto the old towel around his neck before approaching you both. "Hey, ladies. What brings you in?" He asks with a kind smile, glancing between the two of you.

You blink up at him and smile, your hand holding your daughters. "Hi, I came in because my car is making funny sounds. I know it's an old car but not that old. Is it fine if you have a look or do I need to book an appointment or...?"

He nods, holding back a little smirk at the sight of you holding your daughter's hand. "Yeah, I could have a look. There might be a bit of a wait though, if you're cool with that." He glances down at your little girl who seems to be distracted by an old car parked off to the side.

You nod. "No, it's fine. Hazel and I will go wait outside." You shrugged, looking down at your carbon copy.

He nods and watches you walk out, keeping his eyes trained on your figure as you go. Once you're through the doors, he turns his attention away from the entrance and over to the car you just brought in, popping the hood and beginning the inspection.

As he works away at your car, he finds himself stealing glances every now and then through the garage doors as your little girl runs around the parking lot.

Watching her make daisy chains out of the weeds while you look over old cars, he can't help but think you're even more beautiful in the natural lighting.

After about 45 minutes, Patrick wipes off the last of the grease and closes the hood. Before heading to the entrance to find you, he takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself a little bit. His eyes stay on the parking lot, keeping watch for you and your daughter.

He finally spots you sitting on the curb, your daughter settled into your lap sound asleep as you quietly hum a tune, running your fingers through her hair. He stood there a few feet away, debating whether he should interrupt you or not.

After a few beats of contemplation, he figures he should go and get you. He starts with a few quiet steps towards you before making enough noise to get your attention.

You look up and smile at him. "Finished?"

He smiles back, nodding as he stops in front of you. "Mhm. You've got a loose alternator cable. And as for the sound, it seems like the problem is with your exhaust."

You frown. "Oh, how long will that take to get fixed?"

He runs a hand over his chin, "If I order the part, it should only take a couple days, hopefully. Do you have a way to get around in the meantime?" He asks, his eyes trained on your sleeping daughter in your arms.

You nibble on your bottom lip. "I can call my sister."

He lets out a soft chuckle, "Or I can give you and your little one a ride home. It looks like you've got your hands full there." He says, nodding towards the girl asleep on your lap.

You glance down at her then back up at him. You didn't really have much of a choice, and he seemed friendly enough.

If need be, you did carry a taser in your bag. "Yes, please? That would be great."

He smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling just a little bit with it. "Alright. 'll help you to the car." He says, offering his hand to help you up.

You happily took it, feeling his calluses scrape your fingers. He helped you up, his hand slipping away as to not linger too much. He starts a slow pace away from the garage, looking back every few seconds to make sure you're following him.

After passing through the main doors to the lot, he leads you over to a large black pickup truck. Opening the passenger door, he gestures for you to get in, his eyes focused on you.

Once you're settled in, he closes the door behind you. He circles around to the driver's side, keeping an eye on you and your daughter through the windshield as he climbs into the vehicle.

You decide if you should tell this man your address, then again if someone breaks in, you know the name of the company he works at, so you tell him.

He nods, repeating it quietly after you before starting the car. He glances over at your daughter again. "So, how old is she?"

"She just turned two in September." You tell him, with a small smile

He hums quietly, a small smile forming on his own lips. "She's a cutie, got her mama's looks." He says as he begins the drive to your address.

You couldn't help the small chuckle that left your lips. "That she is."

The car falls into a comfortable silence as the drive continues. He watches the road as he drives, stealing the occasional glance at you from out the corner of his eye.

After not too long, he pulls up in front of your house, looking out through the windshield at the small and cozy home.

"Are we here?" He asks, cutting the engine before turning to glance at you again.

You nod. "Yes, thank you so much."

He smiles, unbuckling his seatbelt. "It's no problem." He says, opening the car door and climbing out. He circles around to your side, opening up your door before holding out his hand to help you and your sleeping little girl out.

Once all three of you have exited the car, he closes the passenger door before facing you again. He can't help but be drawn to how soft you look, a warm and content smile on your lips as you hold your sleeping daughter tightly in your arms. Patrick clears his throat. "So, uh, you should tell your husband about your car, wouldn't want him worried, right?"

You blink a couple times, a little startled before you realize what he's insinuating. "Oh," you murmur, a small laugh slipping past your lips. "I actually don't have a husband." You say with a small smile.

He blinks at your confession, the realization slowly settling in. "Oh, really?" He asks, his hand moving up to idly rub the back of his neck. His heart seems to skip a beat when he considers the implications of that sentence.

You nod again. "Yeah, didn't work out, but at least he still tries to look after our daughter."

He nods as he listens, his heart beating a little faster at the knowledge that not only are you absolutely stunning, beautiful, and gorgeous, you're also single. He can faintly feel a blush beginning to travel across his cheeks so he looks away for a second, taking a deep breath to compose himself.

Patrick cleared his throat again, his hand still rubbing the back of his neck as he looks back at you. "You make for an amazing mom though, considering your little girl seems as sweet as they come."

"Thank you, I do try."

He smiles again, his eyes roaming over your figure one more time before nodding towards your front door. "Well, I better let you get inside before it gets late. It was a pleasure meeting you."

You nod. "You too, I'll be back at the shop in a week? It was about a week you said, right? If not, uh, I’ll give you my cell for you to phone when my cars finished."

He nods, feeling a little disappointed to have to wait for you to return to the shop but he doesn't show it, instead continuing to give you a friendly smile.

"Yeah, it'll probably take about a week for the part to get here. Here, let me get my phone. Gimme a sec..." He said, taking a few steps back before digging into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out his phone. He walks back over to you. "Here, just put your number in there, l'll give you a call when the cars done."

You shift your daughter to your one hip while reaching for his phone with your now free hand

He hands it over, watching as you begin to type into his phone with a small smile on his lips. His eyes flit between your own and your little one, who's still fast asleep against your shoulder.

"All done." You smile, handing him back his phone.

He takes it back from you, holding it for a few beats too long before he pockets it again. He can't help but feel a little breathless at your smile, his heart racing a little faster than it should. "Uh, I guess I'll see you in a week then."

And he does. Patrick also was sly, so while he fixed the more serious parts of your car, he'd lightly mess up another, just enough to have you concerned but nothing major, only to see you again in his shop (he charged you 30% of what other customers had to just because of his other alterations)

You start to notice the increase of issues with your car every few months and have to make the frequent trips back to the shop. But the thing that changes is the way the handsome mechanic, Patrick, seems to behave around you. He's a little more sly, a little more cocky and a little more flirty as time goes on. You can't help but notice the change.

And so it was no wonder when you began to get flustered around him, drawn to his flirty remarks and lingering touches.

The way you'd react to his flirting only feeds his ego, driving him a little more wild and crazy each time. The way you'd blush and stutter, trying to keep your cool would only make him want to push your buttons more, to have you flustered and squirming for him.

Eventually, you two started seeing each other, he'd take you on little dates while your sister baby sat, or the three of you would do something altogether.

As your relationship with Patrick grows, he's more and more drawn in by you. He loves spending time with you but seeing vou interact with Hazel and vice versa, seeing how you are as a mother makes him want you in a whole other way.

Was it too quick for Patrick to want to put a ring on your finger? Yes. But you two weren't getting younger.

He knew he was moving a little fast but he can't help it. You make him crazy, make him want things he hasn't dared to think about for too long while staring at your lips, your neck, your wrists... he was gonna marry you if it was the last thing he ever did.

He eventually moved in (bills were equally split). He's living in your home, sharing your bed, your shower, your kitchen. And he could honestly say he's never been so happy. He's got a beautiful fiancé who's also the most caring, perfect woman he's ever met. It almost makes his life perfect.

Almost.

Except now he needs to claim you. Mark you as his. So it's no wonder when he has you on all fours, arched back and sobbing while you're taking his cock, relentlessly bullying your cunt. "Shh-h-h, ma. Don't wanna wake Hazel up, do you?" He asks, pulling at your hair and feeling you clamp around him.

Your little girl is asleep in the other room, and Patrick knows you're trying your hardest to keep quiet so as not to disturb her. But he doesn't want to make it easy for you. He grips your hip a little tighter with one hand while the other starts moving along your back, feeling every inch of your skin under his fingers.

His pace picks up, his eyes never leaving your body as his gaze travels over your arching figure. "You sound so good, ma. Trying really hard to keep that pretty mouth of yours quiet while I breed this cunt. Gonna knock you up nice. Don't you wanna make me a daddy?"

The mention of getting you pregnant has your stomach in knots. You can't help but whimper, your brain trying to come up with a coherent answer. "Y-Yes! Wanna to make you a daddy real bad."

His hand moves down your body, resting on the soft flesh of your stomach. "Yeah, ma? You want me to fill you up? Get you pregnant with our baby?" He asks, his voice a little rougher than before.

You moan, feeling your heart and pussy flutter. "Fuck, yes. Need to...to..."

"Need to what? Need to take my cum in your sweet, needy little hole? Need to have me fill you up until you're leaking? Want me to breed you real good? I'll do it. I'm gonna fill you up so good, you'd never forget who your daddy is."

Your heart hammers against your chest, his words making a knot tighten in your gut as a shiver runs up your spine. "Yes, please, need you to, want you to fill me up!"

"Want to have my baby?" He asks, giving your hips a light little smack. "Want me to knock you up nice and good?" You could only nod, feeling your lower belly stir. Feeling you nod eagerly has him groaning quietly. "You're gonna look so damn pretty pregnant, ma." He growls, his fingers gripping you a bit tighter like he was holding onto you for dear life.

You could feel his hips stutter.

"Gonna be so sweet on you, ma. I'll spoil you so damn much. My sweet little wife, all filled up with my baby. I...oh." He moans, his pace becoming a bit less steady as his fingers flex on your hips.

You felt him spill inside you, never feeling as full as you did. That feeling alone pushed you to your own orgasm.

Patrick held you against him while you trembled through your own release, his eyes watching your body shaking under his touch. His breath felt heavy, his own heartbeat a little too fast as he watched you. His hand slid up your back, coming to a rest between your shoulder blades before his lips made contact with your skin, leaving a soft kiss there. "Think it worked?" He asks quietly.

"There's only one way to find out..." You said through a grin, voice breathless.

He lets out a small chuckle, his lips moving over to your neck. "Guess we'll have to try and try again until it does." He murmurs before nipping your skin gently.

You anchored yourself into the bed, preparing for a long night ahead of you when a high-pitched voice called out for you.

"Mama!"

Just a few words was all it took to have reality setting in. The two of you freeze, your heart beating a little faster as the realization of what you were doing just a moment ago dawns on you. Patrick slowly pulls back, sitting up and away from you on the bed, his eyes glancing at the door.

"Well, duty calls." You mumble, standing up on wobbly legs to grab your gown and wrapping it around yourself.

He watches you get up after a few beats, admiring the sight of you in your gown before he slowly gets up himself, grabbing the pair of boxers he laid on the bed only a few hours before. Once you're both decent, he opens the door for you so you can go to your daughter.

Hazel's in her bed, her big eyes staring up at the ceiling and her tiny hands grasping a handful of her blanket. She turns her head towards you when she hears you walk in. "Mama? Thirsty."

You felt your bottom eyelid twitch, but nonetheless you smiled. "Okay, baby. I'll go get you some water."

She gave you a small nod and a sleepy smile while you made a mental note to remind her that she's not supposed to get out of bed whenever she's thirsty.

You were about to exit the room when you heard her tiny voice once more.

"Mama?" You turned back around to her. She looked at you with those big, innocent eyes of hers. "Read me a story, please?" She asks quietly.

You let out a soft sigh. "Okay, my angel. I'll go get you water while you pick out a book."

Her face immediately lights up at your answer, a smile stretching across her lips and revealing her missing two front teeth. "Okay!" She eagerly responds before crawling over to dig through the pile of books on the floor next to her bed.

You can't help but shake your head at her eagerness to always have a bedtime story as you leave her room and close the door behind you. Once you're in the hallway, you glance towards the bedroom you and Patrick share, and find him sitting on the bed, a bemused look on his face.

"Wait until it's your own child calling for their dad." You told him with a pointed look before turning and disappearing to the kitchen.

Patrick just lets out a quiet chuckle, he can't wait for that day to come. He grins to himself as he leans back against the pillows behind him, his mind filled with the idea of a miniature version of you or him or both calling him 'Dad'.

The thought alone has his heart clenching a little.

#gabgabwrites #my works ✎#x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #challengers patrick #josh o'connor #josh o connor x reader

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daisymbin · 1 day ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/daisymbin/767035170329149440/2104-kim-mingyu-warnings-fwb-angst can you make a part 2? 🥺

a/n: thank you for requesting a part2 🥹 I was debating between keeping it the way it is at angst or happy ending but....here we are with both. whichever fits your cup of tea, I hope you enjoy it!! (I'll admit my heart hurt a little when writing the angst one)

check out my masterlist! // read part1 here

v.1_angst ending

warnings: angst!!!

it’s been a month since mingyu walked out of your life and everything feels like its crumbling. food tastes like ash, laughter sounds like echoes of something you used to know, and the world continues to spin while you feel like you’re standing still, trapped in the wreckage of a person that used to feel so safe, like they'd never hurt you.

you find yourself wandering the streets today, hoping that moving through the city might make you feel alive again. but your heart sinks when you see him, mingyu, standing outside a small bar, the neon lights painting his silhouette with colors too bright for the pain you feel. he’s there, a girl tucked under his arm, her laughter ringing out clear, sweet, & god, she’s beautiful, she's so beautiful that it twists the knife deeper.

you should look away. you should. but you don’t. you can’t. instead, your feet root to the spot as your heart crumbles, the wound you thought was starting to scab over splitting wide open again. you watch mingyu’s eyes flicker over to you, and time slows.

he sees you. he sees you, and for a heartbeat, you think you catch a glimpse of something—regret? sorrow? but then his lips curl into a smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes, and whatever hope you clung to evaporates. because he just looks so cold.

the girl beside him tilts her head up, oblivious, and mingyu’s hands starts to roam, sliding slowly down her back, to her waist, lingering in a way that makes your insides churn. & then, he pulls her impossibly closer by her waist as he presses slow kisses along her neck. you watch as he darts his tongue out and lightly drags it across her skin, deliberate and intimate, and the worst part? he does it while looking straight at you. his eyes never leaving yours, holding you in place, they burn into yours, dark and defiant, and it feels like he’s taunting you, as if daring you to do something about it, but really, its almost as if he's challenging himself to break you apart; like how fast he can do it? how many times he can break you? just how many times?

it’s sick. cruel. a sinister, sadistic challenge, and you don’t know if this version of mingyu is someone he’s always been, hidden beneath the boy who used to hold you so tenderly, or if he’s became this monster just to twist the knife a little deeper. either way, it doesn’t matter. the pain is real, and it’s yours.

you clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms threatening to draw blood as you try to steady your breathing. every cell in your body screams at you to do something, to scream, to demand answers, to yell that this isn’t fair. but you can’t. you won’t give him the satisfaction. instead, you force yourself to stand there, swallowing the anguish that rises like bile in your throat.

the girl giggles again, tilting her head to give mingyu more access, and your vision blurs as your tears threaten to spill. he’s touching her the way he used to touch you, and it feels like he’s shattering your memories one by one, tainting all of them, taking everything beautiful you once shared and warping it into something twisted and unrecognizable.

mingyu keeps his eyes on you, and for a moment, you think he might smirk. there’s something almost victorious in his gaze, and you wonder if this has been his plan all along—to break you until there’s nothing left.

you tear your gaze away and force yourself to move, each step feeling heavier than the last. your chest aches, and your breath comes out in short, jagged bursts, but you refuse to let him see you break down. not here. not in front of him.

the tears spill over as you walk away, hot and unrelenting. your whole world feels fractured, like a puzzle missing its most important piece, and the realization hits you like a freight train: mingyu has moved on, and he did it in a way that leaves no room for doubt. he’s not coming back, and even if he did, the person he used to be is gone.

you turn a corner, wiping at your eyes with trembling hands, and wonder if you’ll ever be whole again. life continues to pass you by, indifferent to the destruction left in mingyu’s wake, and all you’re left with is the hope that, maybe one day, this pain will dull. that one day, you’ll find a way to start living again instead of merely surviving.

but today is not that day. and mingyu’s laughter echoes behind you, a sound that will haunt you for as long as you let it.

you don’t look back no matter how much it feels like the echo of his laughter is calling you back because you can’t bear to see how easily he’s replaced you. and maybe that’s the final, bitter lesson: some people don’t just break you—they ruin the way you see love, the way you see yourself. and mingyu? he’s done both.

v.2_happy ending

warnings: slight angst with happy ending?

here’s how it feels to be without mingyu: like the world has lost its color. every day bleeds into the next, a monotonous blend of grays and shadows that never seem to lift. it’s like the sun has stopped trying, its warmth gone with the person who used to bring light to even your darkest moments.

you sit at the small table by the window of the coffee shop, the one you and mingyu used to claim as your own. it’s where you’d both spend hours talking, laughing, and holding hands over cups of lukewarm coffee. now, the memories feel like ghosts, haunting every corner of this place.

your fingers trace the rim of your mug, cold and forgotten. your mind is elsewhere, trapped in the past, replaying the way mingyu used to smile at you like you were his whole world. the tears you thought had dried a long time ago threaten to return, but you push them down, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“mind if i sit here?” a unwelcomed voice asks, and it startles you. you barely register the question, lost in the echo of mingyu’s last words to you.

you give a distracted nod, not even looking up. your gaze stays fixed on the steam rising from your mug, your thoughts heavy.

you don’t realize who it is until you feel a warm hand cover yours, gently but firmly. the touch shocks you, the heat of it burning into your skin and making you jolt slightly. you almost pull away, but then you hear it.

“it’s me,” the voice says, soft, familiar, and full of something that sounds like regret. “it’s mingyu.”

your head snaps up, and for a moment, you don’t believe it. it can’t be. but it is. he’s sitting there, eyes wide and filled with emotion, holding your cold hands between his.

“mingyu?” you breathe out, the name coming out cracked and broken, like a plea.

his grip tightens, desperation in the way he clings to you. “i'm here,” he says, voice trembling, “i'm sorry I took so long."

your chest tightens, and you try to pull your hands away, but he doesn’t let you, his hold on your wrist tighter than ever. “what are you doing here?” you manage, your voice barely steady.

“i couldn’t stay away,” he admits, and there’s so much pain in his eyes that it makes your own heart ache. “i missed you. i tried to let go, but i can’t. i’m so sorry.”

you swallow hard, shaking your head. “you left,” you whisper, the words heavy with all the hurt you’ve been carrying. “you said you couldn’t love me the way i wanted you to.”

his face crumples, and he looks at you like he’s been shattered, like every piece of him is breaking right in front of you. “i was wrong,” he says, his voice cracking. “i thought… i thought it was the right thing to do, to protect you from me, from all the things i thought i wasn’t good enough for. but god, i was so wrong. i hurt you, i-i made you cry and i hate myself for it.”

you bite your lip, tears welling up in your eyes. “you don’t get to come back and say that,” you choke out. “you don’t get to just… show up and expect everything to be okay.”

“i know,” he says quickly, his eyes pleading. “i know, and i don’t expect anything. but please, let me explain. let me make it right.”

you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. it feels too much, too sudden, like the wound he left behind is being ripped open all over again. “what’s there to explain?” you ask, your voice thick with tears. “you made your choice.”

“i thought it was for the best,” he says, his voice breaking. “i thought you’d be happier without me holding you back. but I.. I can't stop thinking about you and how I hurt you and it’s killing me.”

the confession doesn’t bring relief. it only makes the pain sharper, deeper. “well, congratulations,” you say, your voice shaking. “because it did kill me, mingyu. it broke me. and now you’re here, expecting what? me to run back into your arms as if nothing happened?"

his hands squeeze yours, and you feel the tremble in his grip. “i was scared,” he confesses. “scared of not being enough for you, of ruining what we had. but being without you—” his voice breaks, and he takes a shaky breath. “being without you is the worst thing i’ve ever done. i can’t breathe without you.”

you can’t hold back the tears anymore. they spill over, and you look down, not wanting him to see you break. “you hurt me,” you whisper, "you hurt me so bad, gyu." and the pain in those words makes him flinch.

“i know,” he says, his own voice thick with emotion. “and i’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it if you let me. please.”

you finally look at him, and he’s staring at you with so much desperation, so much fondness & adoration, that it almost makes you believe him. almost.

“how am i supposed to trust you again?” you ask, your voice small.

he lets out a shaky exhale, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “i’ll prove it,” he says, his eyes locked onto yours. “however long it takes, whatever it takes. whatever you want. just… give me a chance..teach me how to love you the way you want to be loved, the way you need to be loved."

you close your eyes, the weight of his words pressing down on you, suffocating. you don’t know if you can trust him, if you can ever let him back in. but the way he’s looking at you, the way his hands hold yours like he’s terrified if he lets go, you will really be gone for good, makes your heart falter.

but for now, all you can do is breathe. breathe and try to make sense of the chaos he’s brought back into your life. because love isn’t simple, and heartbreak never truly heals. and mingyu — mingyu is both the hurt and the cure.

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minimomoe · 13 hours ago

Text

Believe Me

another song association. this time No One Noticed by The Marias

Toji stood on your front porch with heavy steps. From the looks of it, the house was completely quiet with all the windows devoid of light. It should be, given that it was 1 in the morning. He winced when he checked the time on his phone. You were going chew him out for this. You had every right to. He promised to come home earlier, even went as far as telling you to get all dolled up so that he could take you out and your eyes glittered at the instructions. There was no way you wouldn't be pissed off by his change of plans.

Toji fitted his copy of the key that you gave him into the locks quietly turned the handles. He toed off his shoes and silently padded through the house in search of you. What he didn't expect was for you to be sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around your body, scrolling through your phone with disdain.

"Fucking hell," he started. You had startled the large man. Not enough to make him jump out of his skin but he was sure you'd be sleeping by now. You were usually knocked out once the clock hit 10pm.

"Look who finally decided to show up," you muttered. You didn't even spare him a glance. Swipe, swipe, swipe is all you did with your fingers. Toji carefully treaded to where you sat at. His feet touched something on the ground, and when his eyes adjusted he the black heels that he loved to see decorating your feet on the floor. You were going to wear them out tonight.

"Is your phone broken?"

Toji should answer carefully. If he lied it wouldn't help him, but if he told the truth it would only make you more upset. He got down on one knee, resting his hand on your blanket covered thigh in hopes of warming up to you but you shrugged him off. He sighed.

"No. It isn't."

You sniffled, refusing to look at him. "Right. You told me to get ready, then didn't answer your phone for hours, just to show up here at the dead of night. I went through all seven stages of grief for nothing. Thanks."

"Something came up."

"Something came up," you echoed. Even with the faint glow of your phone illuminating your face, Toji could see the tears start to well up in your lashes. "Must've been important."

Silence stretched for miles between the two of you. Toji could see your walls building up, shutting him out, and he felt a tinge of panic in his chest. He knew he put you through a lot, but that's part of the reason why he loved you. He felt like you understood him better than others. You didn't pry, you didn't have some unrealistic expectation of him; you took him as he was. You loved him. But it seems like even you had your limits.

"Listen, I--"

"Don't worry about it, Toji," you sighed. You swung your legs out from under you and stood up from the couch. The blanket pooled around your feet on the floor, revealing a new dress he hasn't seen before. It was beautiful, hugging your curves and showed off the top of your cleavage. Toji mentally kicked himself once again. "It was my fault, really. I got excited. Too excited. I know how unpredictable your schedule is. I should've expected it."

You sounded defeated. You wanted to walk past him but Toji wouldn't let you. He latched onto your wrist, silently begging you not to go.

"I'm really tired, Toji. So fucking tired," you whispered.

Toji took your by the waist, pulling you closer to his body and you tried to protest. You stiffened your hands on his biceps, wanting to keep the space between your bodies but he wouldn't let you. Toji couldn't afford to give you space right now. Not when you sounded like you wanted to pull away from everything.

"I'm gonna make it up to you," he promised. As if his promises were any good. Your gaze was elsewhere- to the side of him, on the floor, past his head. Anywhere but his eyes.

"I should've called you." His lips found your cheek, kissing away the single tear that trailed down your skin. His hands snaked tighter around your frame, encasing you, trapping you in his affection.

"I' fucked up, okay? Look at me." Consoling you for a mistake he made was hard enough. The sincerity and vulnerability that came with being in a relationship is something that Toji had to dig deep to find. It was hundreds of feet below his tough exterior that he has meticulously built and hardened over the years, but he would chip it away to give you his heart. If you were still willing to put up with all of his bullshit.

"Look at me," he said again. Ordering you to... pleading for you to. When you spare him a glance he felt his chest open up. Your lashes clumped together in spikes as you blinked up at him with a look stained with apprehension.

"You think I'm easy," you muttered.

"Stop putting words in my mouth," he said. Toji cupped your chin and tilted your head up. You resisted it stubbornly at first, but he would stay there for as long as it took. When you tipped your head up to him, he kissed the corner of his mouth with all the softness he could muster up. So tenderly he wasn't even sure he touched your skin but you sighed. The tension in your body melted ever so slightly.

"What do I gotta do to make it up to you?" Another kiss on the other side of your mouth. Firmer, needier. He resisted the urge to take your lips fully, but even the corner of your mouth made him ache for you.

You stopped pushing him away. That was a good sign. There was a chance. "I don't know," you mumbled. "I don't know."

"Come on, ma. Tell me what you want."

You looked like you were deciding just how serious Toji was this time. He didn't deserve your patience but you gave it to him anyways. "I want to spend time with you, Toji. And I don't always want it to be after the sunsets but before the sun rises. It's like I'm in a relationship with a ghost. You're holding me now but then you'll leave without a trace." You avereted your eyes. Toji was plunged back in darkness. "I'm getting tired of it all."

"You want me to leave?"

It was unfair of him to push it back on you, he knew that, but he has never played fair in his life. Toji would do whatever you wanted him to... as long as you didn't really want him to leave you. He doesn't think he could at this point. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath until you spoke again.

"No. No I don't," you said quietly. You bit your bottom lip and nestled your cheek into his hand. "I miss you so fucking much but you're just gonna do this shit again."

"I'll work something out," he whispered on your lips. You still wanted him. He was selfish, he was greedy, and he slipped his tongue in your mouth. You moaned, clutching the fabric on his chest as you got swept up in his advances. You had on that lip gloss that he always found amusing, the one that left his lips cool and tingling. He drank you in, leaving no way for you to shy away. He needed you, and for reasons he couldn't understand, you still wanted him too.

"Give me another chance, yeah? You won't regret it."

You had no reason to believe him. You should've kicked him out the second you had the strength to, but you were weak to his advances. Toji knew that, and he used it to his benefit. He kissed your jaw, neck and shoulder. You were obsessed with each other leaving was never going to be easy.

"One last chance."

"That's all I'm asking for."

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

#minimoe #jjk #toji angst #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji x reader

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maylalupa · 23 hours ago

Text

Just Sing (Disney Villain Karaoke)

The moon hung high in the starlit sky, casting silvery light on the lonely expanse of Mozenrath's citadel. Perched atop a jagged cliff, the citadel loomed like a dark specter over the land. But tonight, the shadows of the fortress seemed even darker, as a motley crew of Disney villains gathered at its foot.

“Are you sure he’s home?” Ursula squinted, her tentacles twitching with impatience.

“Of course he’s home,” Scar scoffed, flicking his tail. “He’s always home brooding. Now, let’s go knock on that door already.”

“Open up! We know you’re in there!” called a voice far too cheerful for Mozenrath’s taste. It was none other than Dr. Doof, the scientist whose ambition was limited by the desire to rule only a mere small section known as the Tri-State, flanked by Maleficent, Ursula, and other notorious villains both movie and television shows who had conspired to invite him to a karaoke night.

In a fit of annoyance, Mozenrath bolted from his throne and stormed to the door, flinging it open just enough to poke his head out. “What do you want?” he snapped, glaring with his piercing icy dark brown eyes.

“Mozenrath. We’d love for you to join us for a karaoke night. We’ve got a whole lineup of songs planned, and you’d really bring something special.” Maleficent announced, her voice dripping with charm.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” He snapped, his voice echoing with disdain and the authority of someone who had little patience for frivolity. “I’m busy, and whatever you’re planning is not of interest to me.”

Hades leaned in to give it another try. “Hey, Mozy! We know you’ve got some hidden songs in that dark little heart of yours!”

“Come on!” Cruella urged, her hands on her hips. “Don't be such a gloomy Gus. We need your…unique talents!”

Then, before they could say another word, he slammed the door shut, “Go away!” he barked, leaving the villains baffled and murmuring among themselves.

“Charming as always,” Hades muttered as the villains retreated, dejected but undeterred. “He’s such a downer.”

“Talk about an ego!” Shego hissed with disdain.

“Let it go,” Maleficent shrugged, a mischievous grin broadening her lips. “We can start without him.”

Hidden behind the shadows of a nearby stone arch, two curious figures—Mayla and Sadira—witnessed the exchange.

“Let’s sneak in and see what he’s really like,” whispered Mayla, her eyes dancing with mischief. “He can’t be that scary, can he?”

Sadira nodded, her heart racing at the thrill of the adventure. They slipped through the cracks of the weathered walls, making their way into the dimly lit interior of the citadel. Inside the dark and musty hallways, they followed the sound of a haunting melody that enveloped the air. Hesitating only for a moment, they found themselves standing in an open chamber, their breath caught in their throats. To their surprise, they found Mozenrath, uncharacteristically relaxed, seated atop a darkened throne. Shadows danced around him as he fiddled absentmindedly with an enchanted artifact. And there, to their disbelief, he began to sing—a hauntingly beautiful rendition of “Psycho Killer” by Talking Heads.

“Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est! fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa...” His voice, velvety and rich, echoed off the stone walls. Each note revealed layers of emotion, a complexity that neither of the girls expected from the cold sorcerer. His voice resonated through the room, a dark and mesmerizing timbre that sent chills down their spines. The confident yet tortured lyrics emanated from him, blending with the desolate ambiance around them. As he sang, his eyes were closed, lost in a world of emotions far beyond the cold tyranny he usually wielded.

Mayla nudged Sadira, eyes wide. “We have to talk to him. This is gold!”

“Psycho killer, qu'est-ce que c'est?” he crooned, oblivious to the two trespassers watching him.

Finally, the song ended, the young women could not help but applaud, a small but enthusiastic clap echoing in the void. Startled, Mozenrath whipped around, his face flushing with a mix of shock and embarrassment startled to see Mayla and Sadira lingering in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, hands on his hips, struggling to regain his composure.

Mayla grinned, “We snuck in! You have an amazing voice!”

“We heard you singing,” Sadira admitted, unable to contain her excitement. “Why don’t you ever share it with anyone?”

“Because I’m embarrassed,” Mozenrath replied, crossing his arms tightly as if to shield himself from their praise. “This isn’t the sorcerer’s image! I conjure powerful spells, command dark magic! Singing is…for jesters and simpler folk.”

“Nonsense!” Sadira chimed in, stepping closer. “Your voice is incredible, far too good for you to keep to yourself! Why hide it?”

“Yeah! Why don’t you sing for everyone else?” Mayla added, her eyes wide with admiration.

Mozenrath crossed his arms defensively, the distant, brooding demeanor returning, though a hint of pink tinged his cheeks. “I never let anyone hear me sing," he admitted quietly. “I’m embarrassed by my talent. I like to think I have a nice voice, but… it’s not for the likes of them.”

The girls exchanged looks of understanding. They could see that beneath the sorcerer’s icy exterior lay a heart that longed for connection but feared judgment.

“But you could be part of something special!” Sadira urged. “With your voice, you’d shine brighter than the rest! You don’t have to hide.”

Mozenrath hesitated, the thoughts wrapping around his mind like chains. The fear of ridicule loomed large, yet there was a flicker of desire within him, one that wanted to embrace the chaos of life rather than shun it. “I don’t…I don’t think they’d appreciate it,” he finally said.

“Maybe not,” Sadira chimed in softly, “but we would. You have friends in us, Mozenrath.”

“Then you should sing for us!” Mayla urged, stepping forward. “Let us be the first to hear you. We promise not to tell anyone else. It could be our little secret!”

Mozenrath paused, contemplating their request as the shadows swirled hesitantly. With an exhale that seemed to release the tensions of his vanity, he sighed. “Fine. But only because I’m in a good mood,” he relented, a small smirk creeping onto his face.

With that, he launched into another verse, the room filled with the eerie yet melodic tones of his voice.

“I've been lurking in the shadows, with a clenched fist~

Meanwhile, you’ve all been living in luxury, in privilege, in bliss~

Cassim, Aladdin, Jasmine, and the ones in power~

Your hypocrisy and lies, I'll expose in this hour~

Listen up, hear my voice~

I am the product of a twisted choice~

Destane's abuse, the torment that remain~

You turned a blind eye, it's time to explain~

Cassim, you left me to suffer in the night~

Aladdin, you dance in the sunlight, so bright~

Jasmine, your affairs blinds you to my plight~

Sultan, you sit on your throne safe and tight~

Listen up, hear my voice~

I am the product of a twisted choice~

Destane's abuse, the torment that remain~

You turned a blind eye, it's time to explain~

Jafar, you ignore the cries, that you couldn't understand~

All you care about is your schemes so grand~

Your power knows no bounds~

But I see through your lies, the truth resounds~

Listen up, hear my voice~

I am the product of a twisted choice~

Destane's abuse, the torment that remain~

You turned a blind eye, it's time to explain~

For so long, I had no choice but to play Destane’s game~

You call me a villain, but I won't take the blame~

No more hiding, no more lies~

I'll shout my truth, I'll rise~

Listen up, hear my voice~

I am the product of a twisted choice~

Destane's abuse, the torment that remain~

You turned a blind eye, it's time to explain~

You think you're righteous, but you're wrong~

My pain is real, my suffering long~

Destane's cruel hands, the chains that tied me down~

But now I'll break free, I'll take back my crown~

Listen up, hear my voice~

I am the product of a twisted choice~

Destane's abuse, the torment that remain~

You turned a blind eye, it's time to explain~

Cassim, you may be my father, but you failed me~

Aladdin, you got your happy ending, don't you see~

Jasmine, you preach about love and fairness~

But where were you when Destane's darkness filled the airiness?!

Listen up, hear my voice~

I am the product of a twisted choice~

Destane's abuse, the torment that remain~

You turned a blind eye, it's time to explain…”

Mayla and Sadira settled into the moment, captivated by this unexpected side of the man who held so much power, yet felt the need to guard his emotions like a dragon hoarding treasure. As Mozenrath sang, his voice wove a tale of feelings long buried, and the two girls stood transfixed, realizing that sometimes, behind the masks of villainy, there lies a heart waiting to break free. And so, in that dimly lit chamber of shadows and enchantment, an unlikely bond began to form, stitched together by songs and secrets—a true testament to the power of music that even the darkest of souls couldn’t resist.

Evil As Can Be!

#disney #evil #villains #disney channel #amphibia #darcy wu #marcy wu #king andrias #phineas and ferb #dr. doofenshmirtz #mozenrath #sadira #Mayla Lupa

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novaursa · 2 days ago

Text

To Win a Princess (the eclipse of the alliance)

- Summary: Once you come of age, the realm seeks to curry the King's favor once more by seeking a hand of his younger daughter. You.

- Paring: targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: lion's pride

- Next chapter: as one

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The gentle afternoon light spills through the windows of your chambers, casting a light over the rich silks and delicate fabrics laid out before you. Rhaenyra sits beside you, her eyes alight with excitement as she picks up a length of golden lace, holding it against the fabric of your gown and studying it with a critical but admiring gaze.

“This,” she says decisively, her tone one of certainty. “It’s perfect. The color, the delicacy—it suits you.”

You smile, taking the lace from her hands and feeling its softness beneath your fingertips. “You’re right. It’s beautiful,” you murmur, your voice tinged with a hint of disbelief as you look around at the array of details before you—the lace, the intricate embroidery, the small jewels meant to adorn your gown, each piece carefully chosen for your upcoming wedding. “I can hardly believe this is happening. Sometimes it feels like a dream, one I thought I’d never be lucky enough to have.”

Rhaenyra watches you thoughtfully, a knowing smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Then let it be real, sister. Let this wedding, this happiness, be yours.”

You look up at her, your expression softening. “I always thought… that my match would be nothing more than a duty. That I’d be married off to some lord for an alliance, as so many noble ladies are. Matches made for gain rather than happiness. I’d resigned myself to that fate.”

Rhaenyra nods, understanding in her gaze as she places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I know. So many of us are given no choice at all.” She pauses, her eyes darkening slightly with memories of her own struggles, her own sacrifices for duty. “I fought my battles to make sure I could find my own happiness. I know what it’s like to feel… bound by the expectations of others.”

You give her a small, grateful smile, reaching out to take her hand. “And now, here I am, free to choose and to marry a man who… who sees me for who I am, not just as a princess.” Your voice softens, and you feel a rush of warmth as you think of Tyland, of the unexpected comfort and understanding you’ve found with him. “I never thought I’d find that.”

Rhaenyra squeezes your hand, her smile turning tender. “Tyland is a good man. And he adores you—I see it every time he looks at you. You deserve someone who values you, who would go to any length to protect you and cherish you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “It still amazes me, really. I see other noble ladies here, young women with dreams and spirits of their own, resigned to marriages that bring them neither love nor happiness. I feel as if I’ve somehow defied the odds.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Then let us call it luck, sister, or perhaps fate. You are marrying a Lannister, after all. They say those lions have a way of claiming what they want—and it seems you’ve claimed each other.”

You chuckle, feeling your spirits lift as she leans in, a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “Though I must admit, I can hardly imagine you at Casterly Rock,” she adds with a teasing smile. “All those stony halls and golden lions—it will be quite the contrast to Dragonstone.”

You shake your head, laughing. “I doubt I’ll ever be quite at home there, even with all the lions watching over us. But Tyland will be here, with me, at King’s Landing, at least for now. And I think… I think that’s all I need to feel at home.”

Rhaenyra nods, her expression softening as she hands you a delicate ribbon embroidered with faint threads of gold. “Then let’s make this wedding everything you deserve,” she says, her tone gentle yet determined. “Let it be a celebration of you, of the choice you’ve made, and of the happiness you’ve claimed.”

You take the ribbon from her, the weight of the fabric a comforting presence in your hands as you meet her gaze, a sense of joy and gratitude welling up within you. “Thank you, Rhaenyra. For standing by me, for helping me make this choice, for… everything.”

Rhaenyra smiles, her eyes glistening slightly as she leans in to embrace you. “Always, sister. You’re not just a princess—you’re family, my family. And I would see you happy, above all else.”

The two of you pull back, a shared sense of joy lingering in the air as you continue to select the final touches for the wedding. And as you hold each fabric, each delicate detail chosen with care, you feel the quiet certainty of the life you are building—one that, against all odds, has brought you both love and freedom.

The small council chamber is filled with activity as King Viserys and his advisors discuss the arrangements for the upcoming wedding. Viserys sits at the head of the table, his expression one of contentment, a faint smile pulling at his lips as he listens to the details being laid out before him. Around the table, each member of the council appears engaged, but none more so than Tyland, who sits at Viserys’s left, the faintest trace of pride lighting his gaze as he listens to the preparations.

“The invitations have been sent to the noble Houses, Your Grace,” Lord Beesbury begins, shuffling a stack of parchment before him. “Most have already responded with their intent to attend. The Great Sept has agreed to host the ceremony, and arrangements for the feast are underway.”

Viserys nods approvingly, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Good. It should be a celebration worthy of both Houses.” He glances briefly at Tyland. “This union is more than a simple wedding; it’s a symbol of our alliance, of peace between our Houses.”

Lord Jasper Wylde nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “And with such esteemed guests, it will serve as a reminder of the Crown’s strength. House Lannister and House Targaryen together—there are few in Westeros who would challenge that.”

Tyland inclines his head in gratitude. “Thank you, my lord. It is our intent that this union strengthens the realm as much as it does our families.”

At that, Lord Lyonel Strong, ever the voice of reason, speaks up, his tone thoughtful. “It will be a fine day for the realm, Your Grace. The symbolism alone holds power, and it shows your commitment to unity and prosperity.”

Viserys nods, clearly pleased. But as the conversation begins to wind down, Otto Hightower clears his throat, leaning forward with a slight frown, his eyes fixed on the King.

“Your Grace,” he begins, his voice calm but carrying a hint of unease, “while I, of course, understand the significance of this match, there is something I feel compelled to address.” He pauses, his gaze shifting briefly to Tyland before returning to Viserys. “It has not gone unnoticed that many lords from the Westerlands have taken it upon themselves to establish a steady presence here at court. Their enthusiasm is… notable, to say the least.”

Viserys’s brow furrows slightly, but before he can respond, Tyland speaks up, his tone even but carrying an undertone of steel.

“Surely, Lord Otto, you don’t find it concerning that lords sworn to House Lannister wish to be present to support my union with the princess?” His eyes narrow slightly, his expression calm but his voice carrying a subtle edge. “Or does the strengthening of the Crown’s alliance with the West somehow trouble you?”

Otto meets Tyland’s gaze with a measured look, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of formality. “It is not the alliance itself that raises my concern, Lord Tyland,” he replies smoothly. “It’s the sudden influx of Western influence within the heart of the court. The Crown’s interests must remain balanced, and as Hand, it is my duty to ensure that one region does not… overstep.”

A faint smile tugs at Tyland’s lips, though his eyes remain sharp. “House Lannister has long been a loyal servant to the Crown, Lord Otto. And if my kin see fit to lend their support to this union, it’s only a reflection of their dedication to stability.” He pauses, letting the words hang for a moment. “Or is it that you fear the West’s influence might rival that of the Reach?”

Viserys raises a hand, his expression firm but carrying a hint of weariness as he interjects. “This union was intended to bring peace and strength, not division.” He glances between Otto and Tyland, his tone carrying an undercurrent of authority. “Otto, I understand your concerns, but I expect all of my council to work toward a shared vision for the realm.”

Lyonel Strong, ever the voice of reason, inclines his head and speaks up. “Your Grace is wise. Both the Reach and the West are pillars of strength within the realm. Surely, we can find a way to honor both without falling into rivalries.”

Beesbury nods in agreement. “Precisely. The nobility’s support should be a cause for celebration, not suspicion. If anything, this wedding reaffirms the unity of Westeros.”

Otto’s jaw tightens, though he keeps his expression respectful as he inclines his head toward Viserys. “Of course, Your Grace. I merely wish to ensure that our alliances remain… in harmony.”

Tyland watches Otto with a faint, knowing smile, his gaze unwavering. “Rest assured, Lord Otto, House Lannister’s loyalty remains with the King and his vision for the realm. We are here to strengthen the throne, not challenge it.”

Viserys nods, clearly satisfied with the exchange. “Good. That is what I wish to hear from all my council. Let us continue preparations for the wedding without unnecessary divisions. This union is a gift to the realm, a sign of our strength.”

The room falls into a respectful silence, and Tyland glances briefly at Otto, catching the faint hint of disdain still lingering in the Hand’s eyes. But he lets it go, choosing instead to focus on the satisfaction of having the King’s support and the chance to stand beside you openly, unchallenged.

The afternoon sun filters gently through the leaves of the garden, casting dappled shadows across the soft grass where Daemon lounges with an air of casual defiance. He’s sprawled on a low stone bench, eyes half-lidded, but there’s an unmistakable edge to his expression, a simmering intensity that hints at the impatience he’s barely kept in check for weeks.

Across the garden path, Tyland approaches, deep in conversation with a few courtiers from the Westerlands, their voices a soft hum in the distance. The men laugh, voices warm with camaraderie, but Daemon’s gaze sharpens as he watches them approach. A faint smile, more of a smirk than anything, curves on his lips as he rises slowly, deliberately positioning himself in their path.

When Tyland and his companions draw near, Daemon makes no effort to move aside. Instead, he inclines his head with a mocking smile, his gaze fixed squarely on Tyland, ignoring the courtiers entirely.

“Lord Tyland,” Daemon drawls, his voice carrying a faint, derisive edge. “So good of you to grace the gardens today. I thought you might be too busy… consolidating all that influence you’ve acquired.”

Tyland stops, meeting Daemon’s gaze with a cool, measured expression, his tone even. “Prince Daemon,” he replies, inclining his head in polite acknowledgment. “The gardens are a welcome respite from court, though I hadn’t expected to find you here.”

Daemon raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh, I find the garden to be an excellent place to observe the… comings and goings of court.” He pauses, his tone growing colder as he adds, “Particularly when certain guests are determined to dig their roots a little too deeply.”

One of the courtiers, an older lord from the Westerlands, glances nervously between the two men, sensing the tension. “Perhaps we should take our leave, my lord,” he murmurs to Tyland.

But Tyland gives a slight shake of his head, his gaze never leaving Daemon. “No need,” he says, his voice steady. “Prince Daemon and I merely have… differing perspectives.”

Daemon chuckles, crossing his arms as he looks Tyland up and down, his gaze both mocking and probing. “Differing perspectives, indeed. Tell me, Tyland—have you grown comfortable here, at court, or are you simply savoring the novelty? A lion in the dragon’s den. You must enjoy the thrill of it.”

Tyland’s expression remains unreadable, his tone calm but firm. “I am here because I was invited, Prince Daemon, by both the King and the princess.” His gaze sharpens, a hint of steel in his eyes. “If my presence disturbs you, perhaps it is because you see the strength it brings to the realm.”

Daemon laughs, the sound more biting than amused. “Strength? Is that what you call it?” He takes a step closer, his voice lowering, though his words are pointed enough for the courtiers to hear. “Tell me, Tyland, do you honestly believe your golden lion could ever hold its own against the fire of a dragon?”

The Westerlands lord shifts uncomfortably, but Tyland holds Daemon’s gaze, his tone unwavering. “Respectfully, Prince Daemon, strength does not always roar. Sometimes it is silent, enduring… and far more resilient than flame.” His eyes narrow slightly. “And House Lannister has withstood far more than the bite of a dragon’s fire.”

Daemon’s smirk fades, a flash of anger darkening his gaze. “I wonder if you’ll keep such confidence when you realize that dragons do not tolerate the pride of lions.”

Tyland’s face remains impassive, his voice a calm counterpoint to Daemon’s rising anger. “Perhaps you would do well to remember that lions do not bow so easily, either.”

The courtiers glance uneasily between them, caught between the quiet intensity of Tyland’s defiance and the barely contained rage simmering beneath Daemon’s casual exterior. Finally, one of them steps forward, bowing slightly to Daemon in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“Prince Daemon, Lord Tyland,” he says cautiously. “Perhaps… it would be best to keep our focus on the upcoming celebrations. The union between House Targaryen and House Lannister is a boon to the realm.”

Daemon’s gaze flicks to the courtier with a look of faint disdain, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he steps even closer to Tyland, his voice a quiet, venomous whisper. “If you believe that a wedding band and a few pretty words will make you my equal, Tyland, you’re sorely mistaken. You may sit at court, but know this—you will never be part of my family.”

Tyland’s jaw tightens, but he remains composed, his voice level. “I am not here to compete with you, Prince Daemon. My loyalty is to the princess and to the realm. And whether you accept me or not will not change that.”

Daemon’s eyes blaze with a barely concealed fury, and for a moment, it seems as though he might say more—something that would truly cross the line. But instead, he steps back, his smirk returning, though his eyes remain cold.

“Very well,” he says, his tone laced with mockery. “Enjoy your place, Lord Tyland. For as long as it lasts.”

With that, Daemon turns on his heel, his movements sharp, his departure leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake. The courtiers exchange uncertain glances, unsure of whether to remain or leave, but Tyland merely straightens, his expression unreadable as he watches Daemon disappear into the distance.

One of the lords, still clearly unsettled, clears his throat. “Lord Tyland… are you… all right?”

Tyland looks at him, offering a small, composed smile. “Quite all right,” he says calmly, though his gaze lingers in the direction Daemon had gone. “Let us continue. There’s still much to prepare for the wedding.”

And as he walks forward with the courtiers, Tyland’s mind remains steady, resolute. Whatever Daemon’s anger, whatever his threats, he would face them all—for you, and for the future that now lay firmly within his grasp.

The sun is warm as you sit with your ladies-in-waiting in the gardens, laughter and easy conversation filling the air. The gentle rustle of silk skirts and the soft chatter of voices blend with the birdsong, creating a rare moment of peace in the otherwise bustling Red Keep. You’re reviewing samples of delicate lace, choosing the final details for your wedding gown, when the unmistakable figure of Queen Alicent, flanked by her own ladies, steps into view.

The mood shifts instantly, the easy laughter fading as your ladies fall silent, their gazes respectful yet wary. Alicent approaches with a pleasant smile, her expression warm, though her eyes hold a glint of something sharper, a curiosity laced with subtle calculation.

“Y/N,” she greets you smoothly, her tone polite. “I thought I might join you for a moment. The preparations for your wedding must be keeping you quite busy.”

You rise, offering a polite nod, though you feel the weight of her scrutiny. “Thank you, Your Grace. They are indeed,” you reply, keeping your tone courteous. “There’s so much to plan and consider.”

Alicent nods, her gaze drifting over the lace samples and delicate fabrics before settling on you. “It’s a grand match,” she says, her voice smooth but carrying a faint edge. “A marriage between House Targaryen and House Lannister… it’s quite an alliance. No doubt it will strengthen both Houses considerably.”

You meet her gaze, aware of the probing curiosity behind her words. “That is the intent,” you reply calmly. “Both families stand to gain from this union. And it pleases the King, which is what matters most.”

Alicent’s smile remains in place, though her gaze sharpens subtly. “Yes, and House Lannister has taken a particular interest in this match. Their presence at court has been… substantial as of late. I imagine they must be quite invested in your future.”

You tilt your head slightly, meeting her gaze with a measured smile. “House Lannister has always been loyal to the Crown, Your Grace. They are here to show their support for this alliance, as is expected of any House when one of their own weds a member of the royal family.”

Alicent’s expression doesn’t falter, though you can sense her curiosity deepening, her desire to uncover what she perceives as hidden motives. “Of course,” she murmurs, a hint of skepticism in her tone. “Though I wonder, what is it that Lord Tyland truly seeks? It’s rare for the lions to venture far from the Rock without a purpose.”

You feel a flicker of irritation at her insinuation, but you maintain your composure, lifting your chin slightly. “With respect, Your Grace, I wonder why this marriage concerns you so deeply. After all, it’s a match for a second sister, not a matter of succession. When Rhaenyra wed Laenor Velaryon, her marriage faced far less scrutiny, even though she was named heir to the throne. Yet here we are, with far more interest in my union.”

A faint shadow crosses Alicent’s expression, though she quickly masks it, her smile tightening slightly. “I am only concerned for the stability of the realm, Y/N. House Velaryon was already allied with House Targaryen; their marriage brought unity. But the Lannisters… they are not as close to the Throne as House Velaryon.”

You match her gaze evenly, refusing to back down. “House Lannister is sworn to the Crown, as are all great Houses. Their loyalty is to the King and his family, just as House Velaryon’s was. And Tyland… he has shown nothing but respect for me, for my family, and for the Crown.”

Alicent’s gaze lingers on you, her expression unreadable as she studies you with a mixture of surprise and mild irritation. “I see,” she replies, her tone softening slightly, though you sense she is still unconvinced. “It is… commendable, how you speak in his defense. You seem to have found quite a confidence in Lord Tyland.” Her voice is smooth, but the underlying note of scrutiny remains.

You hold her gaze, refusing to let her subtle implications unsettle you. “Confidence, yes, and respect, Your Grace. Tyland is a man of honor, and I would not have chosen him otherwise. He seeks no undue power—only a bond of loyalty, as any union between two noble Houses should offer. That is the strength we intend to bring to the realm.”

One of your ladies shifts beside you, her gaze flicking between you and the Queen, clearly sensing the tension in the air. But Alicent only smiles, her expression polite, if a bit forced, as if attempting to regain control of the conversation.

“Of course,” she replies smoothly. “Such a strong alliance should bring much-needed stability to the realm, and I am pleased to hear that you are… content in this arrangement. I am certain the King shares my hope that this union will serve the Crown well.”

You nod, your tone unwavering. “I believe it will, Your Grace. House Lannister’s loyalty and wealth will strengthen our position, and I am honored to be part of that bond.”

Alicent’s smile falters for a fraction of a second before she regains her composure, glancing briefly at her ladies before meeting your gaze once more. “Then I am glad to see you so resolved, Y/N. Such confidence befits a Targaryen princess.”

Her tone, though polite, holds an edge—a subtle reminder of the power dynamics at play, of the fact that your future, as much as it now feels like your own choice, will always be entangled with the interests of the realm.

You offer her a courteous nod, unfazed. “Thank you, Your Grace. I have found that confidence often accompanies purpose. And I am grateful for my family’s trust in me to make this choice.”

For a moment, there is a quiet tension between you, a silent clash of wills as Alicent studies you, her expression unreadable. Finally, she inclines her head with a tight smile, her gaze lingering a moment longer before she turns to her ladies.

“Very well,” she says, her tone cool and measured. “We must all be certain of our roles in service to the realm.”

With a final glance your way, she gestures to her entourage, who fall in step behind her as she departs, her graceful form retreating down the garden path. As the quiet settles in her wake, one of your ladies lets out a quiet sigh of relief, her face still flushed from the anxiety of the exchange.

You turn back to your ladies, offering them a reassuring smile as you resume your seat. “It seems, ladies,” you murmur, with a faint but confident smile, “that Queen Alicent is far more invested in this wedding than she cares to admit.”

Your ladies share knowing glances, small smiles pulling at their lips as the atmosphere eases once more. And though the conversation with Alicent still lingers in your mind, a quiet confidence settles within you. Whatever doubts or suspicions she may hold, you know where your heart and loyalty lie—and no amount of scrutiny will change that.

In the dim light of Tyland’s private chambers, the world beyond fades away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace, the press of his skin against yours, and the soft murmur of breaths shared in the quiet aftermath. You lie tangled together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the remnants of your passionate union lingering in the charged air. The warmth of the bed and the intimacy of his presence ground you, and for a few moments, you savor the closeness, resting your head against his chest as his fingers trail lazily over your shoulder.

Tyland’s hand finds yours, his thumb tracing gentle patterns over your skin as he sighs, breaking the comfortable silence with a faint chuckle. “It seems, my love, that our match is not without its share of obstacles.” His voice holds a hint of humor, though there’s an edge of something more in his tone—something darker.

You glance up, meeting his gaze, and he gives you a small, rueful smile. “I had an… encounter, let’s call it, with your dear uncle Daemon in the gardens earlier.” His fingers tighten slightly, his expression hardening as he recalls the moment. “He took it upon himself to remind me of the fire that runs in your family’s blood—and to make certain I understand my place.”

Your brow furrows as you push yourself up slightly, resting a hand on his chest as you watch him. “Daemon,” you murmur, your voice laced with a mixture of exasperation and concern. “He couldn’t resist, could he?”

Tyland lets out a low chuckle, though his eyes remain serious. “Apparently not. He made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t see me as his equal—and that he doesn’t intend to welcome me into the family with open arms.” He pauses, his gaze searching yours. “But I assured him that my loyalty is unwavering. No amount of fire from a Targaryen can scorch my resolve.”

A soft smile tugs at your lips, and you reach up to brush a hand along his cheek, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m not surprised Daemon tried to intimidate you. He’s… protective in his own twisted way. But he’ll come around. He’ll have to. I’ve chosen you.”

Tyland’s expression softens, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And for that, I would face dragons a thousand times over.”

You nestle against him, feeling a sense of security in his arms, but the memory of your own recent encounter with Queen Alicent stirs in your mind. Letting out a small sigh, you say softly, “You aren’t the only one who’s had to fend off a member of my family.”

Tyland’s brow arches in interest, his hand coming to rest on your back as he listens. “Oh? Don’t tell me the Queen has taken it upon herself to extend her… concerns.”

You nod, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “You know her well. Alicent came to the gardens earlier, surrounded by her ladies, trying to gauge my intentions—and by extension, yours. She questioned whether House Lannister’s presence at court was truly as benign as it seems.”

Tyland snorts softly, shaking his head. “So she’s taken to examining motives behind every veil and shadow now, has she? What did you tell her?”

“I reminded her,” you reply, a touch of pride in your voice, “that as a second sister, my marriage should hardly warrant such scrutiny. After all, Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor faced far less questioning. Alicent didn’t seem pleased by that comparison.”

Tyland chuckles, a faint smirk gracing his lips. “Well said. The Queen may play her games, but you, my love, are more than her match.” He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It seems we both have to endure our share of challenges from your family. But I would face a hundred of them if it meant being here with you.”

You smile, nestling closer to him, feeling the strength of his resolve surrounding you like a protective barrier. “Whatever challenges they throw at us, we’ll face them together. Alicent, Daemon… they may doubt, they may question, but our loyalty and love for each other remain unshaken.”

Tyland nods, his expression serious as he gazes into your eyes. “And that, my love, is something neither dragons nor queens can ever take from us.”

Wrapped in each other’s arms, you find solace in the quiet strength of your bond, knowing that, no matter the challenges, you have each other to face them with—unwavering, together.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #game of thrones #asoiaf #hotd x y/n #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd tyland #tyland lannister #tyland x you #tyland x reader #tyland x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #to win a princess

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chleem · 1 day ago

Text

Flashing Lights #6

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter5 | index | chapter7 soon!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Mid-May 2024

It’s just you and Drew now.

Laura left after getting the two of you settled in this hotel room, explaining how your stylists would be here in less than an hour, Vogue coming over to film a getting-ready vlog.

You anxiously stand by the window, looking down to the city. It was beautiful; but your anxiety didn’t let you appreciate it. You wanted a smoke. A drink too.

The no-smoking sign on the table catches your eye, and you look at the ceiling. Smoking detectors were on it. Fuck. So, you reach for the alternative.

You pick the room cell up, typing the number to the lobby.

But Drew hangs it up, then grabs the cell from you. You look at him, pissed. “What? That was important,” you lie, but it was partially true, you needed alcohol to settle yourself.

“Really?,” he says, putting the cell back. He glares down at you, as if you stole his money or something. “I’m not letting you.”

You let his words hang in the air, sharp and defiant.

Instead, you reach for the room cell again.

Drew harshly grabs your wrist, which you immediately shake yourself out of. “Hey. What’s your fucking problem?” You ask impatiently.

“That’s what I should be asking,” he replies. After a few seconds, he talks again. “Why would you go out with him?”

Oh. So he’s asking about what happened last week.

It was nothing. You met Theo at the grand prix, who was surprisingly friendly. The two of you weren’t alone on the yacht; there was a small party before it. Theo and you just stayed longer, and the media made it seem like it was like that the whole night.

Of course, you were too drunk to remember the details of what happened when it was just the two of you, but from the pictures; yeah, it was really bad. Your PR team gave you a hard scolding for that, and even fines for breaking one of the terms on the contract.

You cross your arms, holding your head high. You didn’t do anything wrong; Drew’s intimidating stare won’t break you; nothing will. “I didn’t go out with him.”

“Does he know that?” His voice unable to hid the mockery behind them.

“Of course.” Lie. Maybe a lie.

“Y/n.”

“What? I can’t answer for him. But I know it wasn’t a date.”

“Right, two people of the opposite sex alone, on a yacht-“

“Not a date-“

“With wine, table candles, food-“

“Not a fucking date-“

“Touching each other? Smiling like he’s the funniest shit ever-“

“Fucking shut up, Drew,” you say, slightly louder than him. What he’s going on about, is just stupid. You already got scolded by the PR team, you didn’t need another person telling you you fucked up.

Drew does shut up, but only for a few seconds. “Fine, then what really happened, y/n? Tell me, tell me and I’ll believe it.”

You look at him.

“Why should I fucking tell you?”

The anger in your voice isn't just directed at him; it's a mix of frustration and confusion, the feeling that you shouldn't owe anyone an explanation, least of all him.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow even harder, his tongue poking against his cheek. You go on; ignoring how you’re filling up his anger meter. “All you need to fucking know is that it wasn’t a date. Fuck, why are you even talking to me about this? It’s not part of the contract, it’s not part of-“

“Contract?” He interrupts, looking at you in confusion and disbelief, as if your point of view was absolutely shit. “What does this have to do with-“

“That’s the whole reason you’re here-“

“What the fuck does the contract have to do-“

“Every fucking thing, Drew. The contract has everything to do with you being here. You don’t even care-“

“I do care,” he answers quickly, but you scoff. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be talking to you-“

“Really? You do care? What do you care about?”

“You,” he exclaims, his features softening.

Bullshit. “Your fucking reputation, you mean?”

He shakes his head, a smile on his lips. You furrow your eyebrows, feeling pissed that he’s laughing. “What-“

“You’re unbelievable, y/n,” he starts, and suddenly, his aura feels cold, different from earlier when it was just pure anger. “Why can’t you just explain the situation to me? Huh?”

“I don’t want to,” you tell him, lowering your voice. No. You won’t- can’t tell him.

“Okay, because I might not care?” He asks, ignoring what you want to add on. “If I really didn’t, why would I ask?”

Drew’s blue eyes make you want to yield everything to him. There’s a bit of comfort in his eyes, behind all the anger, “because…because you’re just another co-star I meet. You don’t really care.”

You continue to stare into his eyes, challenging him to disagree.

“But I do.”

He says it so faintly, that it felt like the words were your hallucinations. But he did say it. Well, too bad you weren’t one to be swayed easily by words. “Stop lying, Drew. It just makes you look stupid.”

You brush past him and reach for the room cell. You needed like, five bottles of wine to move past this. To even survive the film festival later.

But Drew stops you yet again. “Let go of me,” you threaten, shrugging his hands off your wrist.

He doesn’t budge, even after saying it a second time.

“Why can’t you can’t understand basic shit?” You snap, finally shaking him off and putting the cellphone back.

If you knew your next insult towards him would end badly for you, you wouldn’t have said it. “You’re so insufferable to be around, you know that?”

Drew stares at you, furrowed eyebrows back in place.

What was he thinking of now? Thinking about a better insult? Thinking about all your flaws? It’s evident that he wants to say something mean about you.

“What? What were you going to say?” You ask, getting impatient. “Say it. I’m sure whatever you’re thinking, they have it worse for me.”

His lips form a small frown, but his eyes stay mean, staring down at you.

Okay. Now this was annoying. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like talking?

“Do you need help forming it?” You tease, stepping closer to him. His eyes flicker fast to your lips, before back into your eyes. “Let me give you a few ideas. Druggie, coke-head, slut, oh, wait, BBC said something about me once. It was-“

“I don’t think of you that way.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

“You think of yourself that way.”

“What?” You scoff yet again.

“You could be so much better, y/n. But instead, you let yourself rot,” Woah, what is he talking about? “Always getting drunk, smoking your lungs out, and putting on this- this sloppy attitude. You give up on yourself when other people haven’t. Why- why the fuck would you do that? Y/n, why are you treating yourself this way?”

His words throw you off track. It’s the first time someone has said this type of stuff to you.

You swallow hard, your throat running dry. For the first time in a while, you feel exposed. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, unexpected and hard. You freeze, unsure of how to react, how to process what he’s saying.

“Why do you make yourself so insufferable?”

You want to hate him for making you feel this way, for making you feel like you're doing something wrong by existing this way. But you can’t. He’s right, isn’t he?

Even with the constant buzz stinging your mind, you still refuse to show weakness. You refuse to show that his words have impact on you. “No; you make me insufferable in your eyes. You hate me, you hate how I bring more trouble to you-“

“I don’t hate you-“

“You hate how you’re stuck in this situation with me, but you know that only I can help you out-“

“Maybe, but I realized-“

“You stick around and then act like you care-“

“How many times do I have to tell you I do care about you-“

“You’re just like the rest, Drew!” You yell over him. He shuts up, looking at you with furrowed brows. “The fame, the money, the people I can bring you, that’s what you care! You’re just waiting for your payoff. ”

The contract again. That fucking contract mentioned again.

You see his Adam’s apple move, his features softening.

The doorbell rings, probably the stylists. You look away from Drew, hugging yourself tight, to keep yourself together.

He brushes past you, going to open the door.

The crew starts filing in, talking and setting up like nothing’s wrong. The noise feels like a wall around you, a barrier between what just happened and the performance you have to put on.

You glance around. Drew’s gone.

He must've left.

——

You tried your best to make Drew’s words leave your mind.

You drank a bottle and smoked half a vape in a the last few hours while getting ready, and still, his words left a scar on you. You couldn’t believe yourself either, affected by Drew’s fake concern for you.

“Give it to me, y/n, we’re arriving.”

Laura’s talking about the vape in your hand. You take on last breath, before handing it over to her. “This dress is uncomfortable,” you comment while puffing out the smoke. This dress was very tight.

“You look beautiful,” Laura says, and a part of you wonders if she actually means it. “Now, the cast is already moving along the carpet, you’re the last one.”

“Where’s Drew?” You couldn’t help but ask, knowing that you only attended the Cannes’ film festival to be seen with him.

“Right�� there,” she points out the window. You see Drew, in a black suit that matches your dress, signing and happily taking photos with fans. He looked… fine.

“Ready?” Laura asks, once the car stops.

It was your first time at the Cannes film festival. You’ve always declined because of your ‘schedule’, but really, it was because of your anxiety. The flashing lights, the disrespectful questions, and audience that have high expectations. These reasons are mainly why you’ve always declined award shows, festivals, or any kind of event that required you to interact with people. “Yeah,” you force out.

Laura opens the door, and steps out first. You take her hand when getting out, and while adjusting your dress, multiple cameras flash. The industry never changed, has it?

Once you’re done adjusting your dress, you smile at the cameras, waving at them nicely. The lights are blinding, but you’ve trained yourself to not flinch to them.

You walk down the red carpet, until you reach where Drew was. Of course he noticed you, all the photographers were shouting, hoping that you would stare at their cameras.

He says bye to fans, before walking over to you.

He doesn’t say anything to you, and you don’t either.

Drew simply takes your hand and puts it on his inner forearm. You purposely grip tight, hoping to cause physical pain to him.

The two of walk side by side until you reach the middle, stopping for photos to be taken.

Drew wraps his arm around your waist, standing closely to you. You pretend something is wrong with his collar, smiling while adjusting it. You meet his eyes, and you just smile even more; acting. He smiles at you too; acting.

Acting. Act. Act. Act.

He whispers in your ear, making sure to get close enough so photographers don’t catch his lips. “You smell like grapes.” Oh. His breath hits your neck, and you feel your goosebumps rise.

He moves away, looking at you lovingly; acting.

You pat his chest and smile at him lovingly; acting.

The photographers’ camera’s flash doesn’t stop, not even for a brief moment. All eager to capture every movement of this couple. Little did they know, while the both of you posed lovingly next to each other, hours ago a catastrophic fight happened.

After a few more seconds which felt like minutes, one of the staff informs you to move up the stairs, where your other cast members were waiting for you.

As you make your way toward the stairs, Drew’s hand hovers close to your lower waist, almost like a protective gesture. The warmth of his palm against your skin is an odd comfort, and for a moment, you forget everything else—the argument, the tension, the walls you’ve built up between you.

When you turn your back to the cameras, the weight of the moment hits you. The flashing lights and fake smiles are just a blur now. You face him, your words soft but certain. “You’re right.”

He blinks, taken aback, and lifts his hand, waiting for you to take it. “What?”

You meet his eyes, swallowing down the mess of emotions swirling inside. For a brief second, you think about pulling away, about keeping the distance. But instead, you take his hand, letting it slip into his.

You raise the hem of your dress slightly, your steps becoming more deliberate as you climb the stairs. “You’re right,” you repeat, your voice steady, almost as if saying it out loud makes it real. “About everything.”

"Y/n, why are you treating yourself this way?"

“But, the industry shaped me to be this way. I don’t know any other way,” you confess, looking at the stairs while saying this.

The two of you reach where your co-stars were, and you let go of his hand.

The director of this movie, which is about the working class in the 1800s, makes space for you in the middle, urging you to stand next to him.

It was the director’s first work, so he was very eager to have his main leads stand next to him. Not only that, but because of your performance in this film, today, it was nominated for numerous categories.

You do, and smile at the camera with the director’s arm around you.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” the male lead, whispers to you, a smile on for the photos. “You never come.”

“This one’s special,” you reply, referring to Drew.

He must’ve thought you were talking about the movie, “good thing I persuaded you to take the role.”

The flashing continues, but the staff informs that it was time to head inside. You turn around expecting Drew to wait at the top for you, but he wasn’t.

You hide your disappointment, seeing your co-star offer his hand. “I believe we’re sitting together?”

“Yes,” you smile, taking his hand.

The two of you walked up the stairs with the rest of the crew, and into the main venue.

——

The standing ovation lasted around ten minutes. Yet, felt like eternity.

The sound of clapping fills the room, surrounding you, and for once, it’s not just noise. It’s recognition. It’s validation.

It felt…extraordinary. Like something out of a dream. You couldn’t believe how many you’ve missed out on. You want to soak it all in, to savor the moment, but a part of you can’t help but wish you weren’t alone in it.

Your co-stars would stare or blow kisses at their loved ones, whispering thank you to them. But you? No one. Not even your ‘boyfriend’, who was gone from the start of the night.

Even when going up to receive awards, you wished you had someone special to dedicate your speeches or awards to. Or someone you could lock eyes with in the crowd.

You had no one.

Drew was still gone, and you soon realized, he was gone the entire night.

——

You push through the door, finally getting it open after multiple tries.

You immediately fall to the ground, your legs and arms giving up. You laugh, still a bit drunk even after sleeping in the car.

“Where were you?”

Your blurry eyes squint at the source, and you see Drew. He’s sitting on the couch, half naked and hair still wet. “I should be asking you that,” you smile, the alcohol in your veins making it hard to control your features. “I missed you.”

It wasn’t you talking; obviously the alcohol talking. Drew knew that, because he walks over and stands in front of you. “Where’ve you been?”

You look down at his toes. They’re funny. “Hey, your toes are-“

“Where the fuck did you go?” He asks more firmly this time.

You look up at him. His jaw is tight, brows furrowed in something between concern and irritation. But all you can feel is the burn in your chest, the strange weight of his question. “Why do you care?”

It comes out cold, defensive, but his eyes soften, just a little, as if he’s already heard the answer, as if he knows the real reason why he does care.

He bends down to grab your arm. He helps you up, placing your arm over his shoulder. You’re too tired to protest; letting him place you on the couch. He walks away, but he comes back with a bottle of water, a trash can, and some pills.

“Hey, drink some water,” he says, his hand going behind your neck, as he helps you sit up.

His hand is always so warm. Why?

His thumb rubs the back of your neck while you drink the water, surprisingly, you find it comforting. You finish half of it, before handing it back to him. “Wanna tell me where you went?” He asks you much more gentler this time.

“The afterparty,” you reply, as Drew removes his hand from the back of your neck. The warmth disappears, and you actually feel sad. “Your turn.”

“I stayed in here,” he confesses. His voice turns quieter now, almost hesitant. “I didn’t want to see you.”

Just because of that, he leaves? What a selfish dick. “I didn't want to see you either, but did you see me leave? No.”

“And I’m sorry,” Drew apologies. You look into his eyes, and see the sincerity in them that can’t be faked.

“I felt so stupid,” you continue, “The only person I knew was you.”

Drunk you could talk about whatever you wanted, and no one could stop you. “I know you hate me, but couldn’t you have stuck around? You only had to watch me, you didn’t need to do anything else.”

A tear falls down your cheek. It feels almost foreign, as if your body is betraying you, allowing a moment of vulnerability you didn’t expect, one that you didn't know you were capable of outside of a scene, outside the cameras.

You quickly wipe it away. “I would’ve never done that to you.”

And you meant it.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, the only right thing to say right now.

Silence lingers in the air, the two of you staring down at the floor.

“It was my first time experiencing a standing ovation,” you start, giving him a soft smile. He sends you one back, a faint, quick smile. “No wonder why people like going to award shows.”

“You’ve never been to one?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“During the first few years. But after that… overdose incident, I wasn’t in the right state to attend public events,” you feel your voice shake; the memories of that night coming back to you. “Not only was I afraid, but so were the executives.”

You’ve never told any in showbiz about your drug overdose incident. Why are you telling him? Maybe, there was just something about Drew that made you want to.

And sure, everyone knew, from the media, where things are often exaggerated and vilified. But, did anyone bother hearing it from you?

This incident changed your entire life. To others, it was just hot gossip.

“Have you ever had a standing ovation for you?” You change the topic, his lack of response worrying you.

“No; but it sounds amazing,” Drew says. “I’ll…I’ll look for you when I do.”

There's something in his voice, though, something that almost feels like a promise.

“Will that time even come?” You decide to tease him instead, uncomfortable with how cheesy this is going.

“Sooner than you think,” he winks at you, before glancing down at the pill. “Take one after you shower; you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, before looking towards the bathroom. “I stink, don’t I?”

“Not the worst you’ve stunk,” he comments, and you roll your eyes.

“Whatever,” you get up, but way too fast, making you almost stumble. Drew holds onto your arm, steadying you.

“Need help?”

“I can manage,” you breathe out, shaking his hand off and walking over to the bedroom. You spot your suitcase, opening it and taking a shirt and underwear. You see the bed, realizing that it’s yet another one-bed situation. You peek out the bedroom door, and Drew immediately turns his face over to you. “Um, you can have the bed if you want.”

Shyly, you close the door, ending the conversation.

——

Drew slept on the couch that night, without any protests.

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word count: 3.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: a lot to take in for this chapter...phew

i have a one shot idea coming up, so look forward to it! same as usual, thx for reading, and sry for the long update (ignore my mistakes). i try writing as much as i can, but schedule doesnt allow it T_T

ps, is this a safe space? um, i was kinda losing motivation for this series a couple of days ago. but, i saw the taglist, and the ending i planned for this series. so, safe to say i got to writing!

#drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #fiction #angst #drew starkey x you #actor #actress #series #fake dating #enemies to lovers #flashing lights #chapter 6

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