#there were so many things i wanted to mention but. it would have been a novel.

[munsonify]

all the small things

pairing. bob reynolds x gn!reader

summary. three times bob goes out of his way to show you kindness, and the one time you find out why

content warnings. loads of sweet sweet fluff and mutual pining (no one’s surprised), non established relationships, r being referred to as pretty, spiders & r being afraid of them, yelena and ava being nosy shits and an instigators (affectionate) (lovingly), eventual confession of feelings, not proofread

word count. 4167

a/n. here have another 3+1 with bob cause i love him and i have so many thoughts for him. also im not too good at characterizing ava so when shes mentioned it might be ooc im sorry

———

shared couch

it was hard trying to acclimate to living and working in the rebuilt tower. you liked the responsibility, you liked being in your feet and having something useful to do. while you may’ve unwillingly been recruited to be on the new avengers team, you were glad to be of use somehow. still, even with this sort of twisted contentment, it was… odd being in this tower full of people you’d only known for two short months.

you found a little difficulty in communicating with the team, something that was expectant. you’d barely known each other when the title of the new avengers was thrust upon you. everyone was grappling with their own issues as they tried to make sense of what was happening. some people opened up better than others.

someone you grew fond of quickly was bob. while he wasn’t the most open of the group, you found that he was pleasant to talk to. on the few occasions you were able to get more than simple small talk out of him, he was quite charming. even when stumbling through a punch line of a joke, it always landed right, making you let out small, genuine laughs. though the conversations may never be deep, you were grateful someone here was willing to talk with you, especially someone who was so easy to talk to.

the large, open living room inside of the tower was bustling with people. all six of your teammates were there, something that didn’t quite happen often. you realized quickly that alexei was droning on about a new promo idea he had for the team no one seemed to care much about. you didn’t care too much, either, frankly sick of the all the photoshoots and the public appearances. still, you wanted in on the conversation.

you searched the furniture for a place to sit, eyes falling on two different spots. one would have you smushed between walker and bucky, an unfortunate duo to be sitting by. the other was next to bob, who sat alone in silence, head lolling onto the cushion of the loveseat. his eyes were looking everywhere but alexei as if trying to keep his mind occupied. that’s how his eyes found you, who was shyly standing a little away from the furniture.

bob watched as your eyes flickered between the two empty spots, quickly catching on to your dilemma. you wanted so desperately to sit next to him, though unsure whether you should. a small wave of his hand caught your attention, eyes falling onto him like his had down to you. the hand he waved with dropped down to the cushion beside him, patting it gently, urging you to come sit. you were more than happy to oblige.

your pace was a little slow as you walk towards him, gently sliding onto the small couch next to him. hesitantly, bob nudged your arm, brief and nervous. you wondered only for a second if it was in case the other side of him made an appearance. he leaned in slightly after his nudge, whispering into your ear with a tilted head.

“thought it would be better than trying to squeeze next to them,” bob said, a finger pointing discreetly over at bucky and walker. “walkers riled up today anyways.”

it was your turn to lean in a little, a small smile playing on your face as you whisper back to him, watching alexei wave his hands around as he spoke. it was your turn to discreetly point, this time at the man on his feet. “i wonder why.”

bob let out a short huff of air out of his nose as a way of laughing, eyes flickering over at you as you finally settled down next to him, resting your head back on the cushion the same way he was. your whispered conversation continued on below everyone else’s much louder conversation. while the theatrics were entertaining, you’d much rather speak with bob. he was kind.

———

coffee runs

it’d been a long few days for the team. between a two day mission that required more of your time than it should’ve, nearly excessive training that had your legs feeling like jelly, and meetings valentina practically forced you guys into, it was hard to find time for yourself. needless to say, you were quite drained.

with a cheek pressed against your pillow and your phone loosely in hand, you lay rested against your very welcoming bed. this was the first time you’d been inside your room in nearly four days. the first thing you attended to was a much needed shower, sweat gripping your body from the two hour training session from earlier in the morning. while you should be getting yourself ready for a press conference, you decided that spending some time on your phone just a little long was more important. you were better in a rush, anyhow. the hardest part of getting ready was done, you were clean. two and a half hours was plenty enough time to rest for a while longer.

you were rather enjoying that peace when you were interrupted by a knock on your door, soft and steady. a groan escaped your chest before you could think twice, turning your phone off as you let it drop face down on your bed. you pushed your aching body off of your bed, wobbling a little on your feet, before you forced yourself upright and to the door. relief washed over your body when you opened the door to reveal bob, shoulders straight and unusually confident, something you didn’t dwell on for too long.

in his hands were two large, warm coffees with small black writing on it. he was quick to smile at you as his fingers indent the cups slightly, something that happened almost on instinct when his eyes found you.

“hey,” bob greeted, voice a little weak. he let out a cough to clear his throat, as if that would help him amplify his voice. it only worked a little, though. “i, uh- i got you a coffee.”

you watched as he held out one of the coffees to you, gratefully reaching out for it with both hands. your fingers gently grazed his as he passed it along to you, an accidental touch that had his throat closing up just slightly. bob had more to say that was surely going to come out as a long, drawn out ramble, though it got caught in his throat. he took that as a momentary win, glad that he wasn’t completely making a fool out of himself like he usually does around you.

you always made him so nervous. you were kind and funny and so pretty to look at. it was easy to fall for a person like you, so it was no wonder that he did. he just wished he wasn’t such a pathetic wreck around you sometimes.

“thank you, oh my god,” you let out, warmth radiating onto your hands as you held the cup. you brought your lips up to it in an instant, tasting the deliciousness of the slightly bitter liquid. another groan left your mouth, this time soft and appreciative. you licked the coffee off your top lip that remained, realization hitting you right as you do so. “you know my order?”

“yeah,” bob squeaked out, rushing to answer you. a sudden burst of embarrassment surged through him. he realized how bad this might look, how it may come across creepy or something that he knows your order by heart. he wasnt meaning to come across that way, he simply just remembered. “you told me about this really good latte you had last week, thought that you might like another, ya know?”

that’s when the floodgates opened up, his rambling beginning with no sign of stopping. “it’s been a busy week, we’ve got that stupid press conference later, and you looked so tired after training that i thought you could use one. not that you looked bad or anything! god, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that. i just figured since i was already out for a coffee for myself that you’d maybe want one too.”

bob let out a low, nervous chuckle when he finished speaking, shoulders slouching back down to its usual position. a little bit of his coffee had spilled over his whitened knuckles amidst his talking, his hand shaking ever so slightly, his grip a little too tight on the flimsy cup. his eyes fell down to the ground as he began shrinking into himself.

“that’s so thoughtful of you,” you told him once he let himself breathe after speaking. his eyes flickered up to your face searching for an insincerity he didn’t find any trace of from you. he never did, now that he thought about it. the only time you were even a little insincere was when you were speaking to walker, who tended to get on everyone’s nerves sometimes.

you had the prettiest smile on your face, one that eased his nerves down to where they usually were when he was around you. he was flustered, but not on edge. you weren’t weirded out by him. in fact, you seemed flattered that he remembered your order, and even more so that he’d thought to get you one.

“thank you, bob, really,” you told him, giving him a genuine nod.

“of course,” he responded, a small, nervous smile finding its way back onto his face. “anytime, really!”

“would you wanna come in?” you offered, opening up your door for him as a welcome. “we’ve got some time before we need to be at the press conference, i can finally tell you about how alexei gave yelena the birds and the bees talk on our way to the mission.”

“you’re joking?” bob asked, eyes going wide in shock and amusement. he looked just as bewildered as you did whilst it was happening, letting himself inside of your room. you couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, face scrunching up as you recall the awfully uncomfortable situation, closing the door shut behind the man.

you tried not to think too much about how bobs scent washed over you as he passed you briefly, and you tried even harder not to stare too hard at the gorgeous smile that rested on his face. he looked a lot more at ease now that he knew you weren’t off-put by his actions. you liked this look on him. still nervous and a little fidgety, but more comfortable. he didn’t look like he wanted to crawl into his skin anymore.

and, even when you two sat right next to each other on the edge of your bed, thighs just inches apart, bob still felt better than before. it was odd the way he felt around you. while still incredibly flustered by your presence, he always felt comfortable around you. he never felt judged by you, and if he did, you unknowingly brushed that aside for him. it was like second nature to you.

———

loose spider

the aversion you had towards spiders always seemed a little childish to you. it was something you thought you’d eventually grow out of, or an issue you’d be at least a little less affected by by now. you were a tough combat fighter, one that has seen some unimaginable things. a fighter that still, for some reason, was afraid of spiders.

you never told this to the team, it was useless information, something you were sure would never need to be addressed. quite frankly you’d forgotten about this little fear of yours until you came face to face with it in the most unfortunate events such as this one. like usual, the team was bumping into each other in the towers kitchen in desperate search of some breakfast. while you rarely ever seemed to eat the same meals, you always accompanied each other before a long day.

with the shuffling of your feet, you found your way to the fridge in search of some butter for your toast. instead, you were met with a jet black spider that sat right on the handle, stopping you in your tracks. your hand was merely inches away from it when you realized it was sat there, watching as it moves a couple inches towards your hand as you pulled it back. you let out a choked gasp as you stumbled back slightly, eyes blown wide as you stare.

all you wanted was some damn buttered toast, yet here you were.

“someone get it,” you blurted out quickly, eyes not moving from the spider as you frantically pointed at it. your words caught the attention from everyone in the room. it was rather silent this morning, only a few whispers here and there between each other. everyone seemed to stare at you for a few moments instead of helping.

“it’s just a spider,” walker deadpanned once he saw what you were pointing at as if it was obvious. “it’s not a big deal.”

“it is to me,” you whispered weakly, embarrassed by your fear. you wish you could just ignore it, get what you needed and go, but you couldn’t. the mere sight of the spider made you shiver. you heard feet shuffling behind you, and you half expected it to be john ready to make fun of you or something.

instead, it was bob, who moved past you without a word. he was careful with his steps moving forward, hands reaching out to gently scoop the spider off of the fridge. once it was secured in his big palms, he slowly turned around, letting you see that he has it without actually showing it to you.

“‘m gonna go let it outside,” he told you in the softest tone. he offered you up a small, un-judgmental smile, before he started to move past you again, heading towards the elevator. this time, you didn’t flinch when the spider came near you. bob was kind, and despite whatever your brain was trying to tell you, you knew he wouldn’t tease you with it, or bring it near you to scare you even more.

“thank you,” you replied, looking at him with the most appreciative expression. he simply nodded as he continued on, the same smile playing on his lips still there, calming your anxiety.

god, he was so gentle. most people would’ve killed the spider, squashing it in their hands or with a shoe. but bob? bob was escorting down one of the largest buildings in new york to safely set it outside. he didn’t make a big fuss out of it, or make you feel bad for your fear. instead, he made you feel seen, safe. even if it was ‘just’ a spider. you were deep in thought about the man as you watched his figure disappear out of sight when yelena broke the silence.

“well that’s just adorable,” she quipped, a small smile playing on her face as she swirls the coffee in her hand. “i think a little someone has a crush on you.”

“the spider?” alexei asked cluelessly, earning an eye roll from ava who was perched up on one of the counters, and a quiet ‘dumbass’ from bucky who was nose deep in some book he hadn’t looked up from this entire conversation.

your face heated up at yelena’s comment, eyebrows furrowing together as you glance over at her. you finally move to open the fridge, grabbing ahold of the butter you were in search of.

“bob doesn’t have a crush on me,” you told her, shaking your head in disbelief. your voice was shaky, and you weren’t quite sure if it was because the adrenaline from the spider, or the possibility of bob having a thing for you.

it’s not that you didn’t like the idea, it’s just that you didn’t think it was true. sure, you had a blooming crush on him, and it would be amazing if he’d felt the same about you. there was just no way bob felt that way. he was simply being kind and attentive to you like he always was. this wasn’t new, and it definitely wasn’t motivated with anything romantic.

“just saying,” yelena mumbled, drawing her attention back to the meal in front of her. “i don’t think he would’ve been that nice about it to any of us.”

“can you imagine bob looking at walker like that?” ava piled on with giggles. her next words were laced with a fake affection, swooning in exaggeration as she looks at the blonde haired man. “don’t worry walker, i’ll take it outside for you!”

everyone laughed at ava’s nonsense, even bucky let out a huff of air out of his nose before she said one last thing. “he would’ve dragged him for it, y/n. clearly bobs just got a big ole soft spot for you.”

you spent the rest of breakfast in silence as you sat in your thoughts, picking at your toast and sipping at your juice when you realized you were being nearly too still. you tensed up a little when bob came back to the kitchen, frowning slightly when you realized his food must be a little cold now. your eyes lingered on him as he sat, something he noticed. he gave you another soft, closed lip smile, as if reassuring you in his own little way.

could he have a thing for you? could bob feel the same as you do? you tried to be optimistic about it, letting hope linger inside of you at the thought that maybe yelena and ava were right. you still doubted yourself. that’s just who bob was. kind, honest, caring. there’s no way he was only like that with you.

———

clean laundry

maybe you were being too confident in yourself. you brought a large load of laundry into the laundry room in the tower, slipping what you could inside the washer and dryer to get it done and over with. it was tough getting it to the room itself, but now that you had to bring it back up to your room you wished you would’ve just done two smaller loads.

you had your fabric softener barely gripped with a few of your fingers as you braced the hamper, waddling your way towards the elevator, leaning your whole body towards the buttons to indicate you’re wanting to go up. you tried to keep ahold of everything, knee pushing upwards to keep the hamper in place.

getting inside the elevator was worse. you nearly knocked over your clothes when you sat it down, hands fumbling to press the number for the living quarters. why they didn’t put a laundry room on your floor was beyond you. valentina was, as usual, no help when you pressed her about it. she simply shrugged it off and moved along. as if she couldn’t be more frustrating of a human being.

the hamper wasn’t super heavy, only heavy enough for you to struggle a little lugging it around with you across the large tower. you huffed and puffed your way out of the elevator when you finally make it there, irritation growing rapidly as you try not to drop any clean clothes on the floor. you didn’t want a trail of potential undergarments leading towards you room.

you weren’t even a quarter of your way to your room when bob coincidentally turned the corner, finding you struggling slightly with your clothes. you gave him a tight lipped smile, one that was clearly full of annoyance. he was quick to swoop in to help. of course he was.

“can i help?” bob offered, walking up to you with his arms out slightly. you shook your head no, though your eyes told a different story. all he had to do was cock an eyebrow at you for you to give in, sheepishly setting the hamper down on the ground.

“thanks,” you whispered out, watching as he effortlessly picked up the hamper and began to walk. you followed behind him with a slight stumble at the start, fabric softer in hand. while you were strong as you were, sometimes you wished you had superhuman strength like some of your teammates did. it would certainly help you with your mundane tasks.

as you followed bob to your room, you began to think about what yelena had told you about bob having a crush on you. he was always eager to help you out. you always thought it was nothing, just a way to be friendly, something he would do for everyone. the thought was eating you up inside. you wanted desperately for him to feel that way about you. you wanted him to want you.

you were surprised at what came out of your own mouth next as he opens up your door for you, letting you walk in first, quietly following behind you.

“ya know,” you started, pointing beside your bed to let bob know to set your hamper there. he did just that, watching as you start to pick at the laundry to sort through it. “yelena told me you might have a crush on me.”

bob froze in an instant. he watched as you seemingly nonchalantly started to fold your clothes, setting them down on your bed right afterwards. your hearts seemed to pound together quickly, sharing the same rapid pulses at your words.

“she did?” bob choked out, eyes blown wide. he seemed just as shocked at the proclamation as you did.

“yeah,” you affirmed, glancing over at him. he was visibly nervous, hands fumbling with each other, fingers moving together in attempts to calm himself. you started to panic more at the sight of him, trying your best to distract yourself with your laundry. did you make him uncomfortable?

you realized that you might’ve messed up big time. you didn’t reveal your feelings for him directly, though it felt like by telling him that, you were opening yourself up to questions. ones that would lead him straight to your feelings. it felt like you were already out in the open for him to see right through.

“would it be so bad?” bob whispered, eyes piercing into your skin, trying his best to get his read on you. even if you felt like he knew how you felt, he hadn’t a single idea. “if i, uh… did had a crush on you?”

that made you stop in your tracks, hands gripping the half folded shirt in your hands. your eyes trailed to him one last time, looking right into his. bobs eyes were big and round and blue as you stare at each other, tension thick in the air as he waits for your answer.

“not at all,” you whispered back. you finished folding the shirt without looking at it, setting it blindly on the bed. relief visibly washed over bobs body, tension releasing from his jaw and his shoulders. his hands still fidgeted together, though, as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“i was really hoping it wasn’t obvious,” bob told you, chuckling quietly at himself. “i guess i was.”

“i didn’t notice until she mentioned it,” you replied, deciding to lean into the newfound information. “not until you were a gentleman and saved me from that spider.”

you two had matching cheesy grins on your faces at your words, the slight absurdity of it bringing out a giddiness that made your chest bloom with warmth. all he could do was shake his head at you at first, a hand of his reaching up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “just know i didn’t show it any mercy for scaring you like that. i put it right on the sidewalk instead of the grass.”

it’s your turn to laugh this time. “the poor bastard got what it deserved.”

as your guys’ laughter died down, you went back to silently folding your clothes. the air was a lot less tense now that everything was - for the most part - out in the open. you thought the conversation over as bob started slowly pacing across your room, finding the swivel chair at your desk to sit at. he leaned back as casually as he could manage, hands smoothing down the front of his shirt. you realized that you might not have been clear on how you felt, doing so in the best way you could think of. teasing and kind.

“you know this means you have to take me on a date now, right?” you asked him, eyebrows lifting up with expectation. bob nodded quickly and enthusiastically, eyes bright as he looks up at you from his seat across the room.

“of course, y-yeah!” bob tells you immediately, a small spout of rambles beginning like they always do when he’s nervous. “i would be honored to, i mean, i’ve been thinking about it for months. i’d be kinda crazy not to now that i know i’m not completely off base with you.”

and honestly, you couldn’t wait.

[romanticrivalries]

WHAT ARE THEY? SINCARAZ LORE (WITH RECEIPTS)

The RG final brought in an influx of new fans. Because of my SINCARAZ x called you again edit, I received a lot of inquiries about what happened between them. Since their relationship is complicated—("he means a lot to me" / "we’re good friends" / "aren’t close friends" / they wake up in the morning and think about each other)—and goes ↗️↘️↗️↘️↗️ every other month (Hot N Cold by Katy Perry is quite befitting), I thought I should make this.

Before we join hands and plunge into the rabbit hole, I need to establish how downbad Carlos was (is?) for Jannik. 

His entire face lit up at the mere mention of Jannik:

Exhibit B. I swear, if Carlos had a tail it would start wagging aggressively at the sight of Jannik.

Carlos looking back at Jannik after they parted ways.

He looks back at Jannik a lot. Exhibit B. Exhibit C.

Tbh, his smile during Jannik’s speech in the Rome ‘25 ceremony is incriminating enough:

(Smiling so aggressively his gums are showing… Someone call an ambulance, we’ve got a man down bad.)

Now that that has been established, let’s move on. Buckle up, it’s a long ride.

They first met as teenagers (Carlos was 15, Jannik - 17) in 2019 at the JC Ferrero Challenger Open, held at the academy of Carlos’ coach, Juan Carlos Ferrero. Carlos won. Jannik is the one who approached Carlos first because he wanted to get to know him. 

“I saw the draw coming out and I said, ‘Oh, Carlos Alcaraz, I have no idea who he is!’” said the Italian. “I saw the age and I said, ‘Wow, he’s playing a challenger, it’s amazing.’ And then straight away I was impressed. “After the match, we went to the same locker room … and I was like, ‘When did you start to play tennis?’ And then we started to talk a little bit, because I wanted to get to know him because he was just an amazing talent already back in the day.”

Their first ATP match up was in 2021 at the Rolex Paris Masters. Despite losing, Jannik was the one to say to Carlos at the net: “I hope we play some more.”

And the rest is history: Carlos imprinted on Jannik and has been down bad ever since. Therefore, it can be concluded that Jannik fell first but Carlos fell harder.

Prior to 2024, Jannik and Carlos were quite consistent about referring to each other as good friends.

CARLOS (2022): “[...] and of course, we are great friends outside the court. [...] I talked to him out of the court, by phone, I mean we laughed a lot**, he’s a nice person [...]”

They went jet skiing together after their Umag final, 2022. 

JANNIK (Rolex Shanghai Masters 2023): [...] “We have a very good relationship off the court and I feel like we are good friends, but still, you know, on court there is, uh, this nervous, you know, inside you feel a little bit nervous [...]”

During December of 2023, Jannik and Carlos trained together at the Juan Carlos Ferrero Tennis Academy as preseason preparation. Same place where they met for the first time, btw. A ceremony took place where it was unveiled that the main court would be named after Carlos. Jannik recorded the entire thing on his phone, a video that he never shared on social media.

Many people say their relationship is one-sided, that Jannik doesn’t reciprocate, but this moment alone speaks volumes of how much he cares. Other people were capturing the event, so he didn’t need to, but he still chose to, just for himself and Carlos. It wasn’t something meant to be shared with the public. Not only that, he didn’t just take a quick snap, he recorded the entire thing. It’s characteristic of his introverted, private nature to show he cares in subtle ways like this that aren’t always visible/obvious to the public eye.

Jannik talked about it a little bit over here after the interviewer teases him for taking photos like a fan: “For me, it’s special, they grew up together [...]”

The unshared video should also serve as a reminder that there are likely many other private friendly moments shared between them that we as outsiders will never be privy to, so we shouldn’t base assumptions on the nature of their relationship from what’s said/not said on their social media.

CARLOS' UNWAVERING FAITH IN JANNIK

Carlos believed in Jannik’s potential before most people did. In 2023, he remained steadfast in his claim that Jannik is his biggest rival when people were expecting him to name Djokovic. The media kept trying to coax the Alcaraz vs. Djokovic narrative out of Carlos but he would not budge.

Note: Jannik didn’t have his meteoric breakthrough until 2024 (he was showing signs of it by the end of 2023). Before 2024, Jannik had no Grand Slams and only 1 Masters 1000 title (Canada). In comparison, by that point, Carlos had 2 Grand Slams and 4 Master 1000s. He became the youngest World Number One in ATP rankings history in 2022.

I: The rankings say it’s Novak and Carlos, Carlos and Novak, do you consider him to be your biggest rival at the moment? CARLOS, ROME ‘23: “[...] Probably, Jannik right now is my biggest opponent. We had really great matches, but at the same time really, really tough ones. [...]”

CARLOS, Post-Wimbledon, ‘23: "Having someone there, with whom you fight, with whom you have that battle, that beautiful rivalry, is important to maintain motivation for so long. Right now, I think I have it and I’m not afraid to say it: for me, it’s Sinner at the moment. That beautiful rivalry that we have, those big games that we have played, on big stages. As the years go by there will be better ones and we will fight for the big titles.”

Even Jannik didn't consider himself to be Carlos' biggest rival.

JANNIK, SHANGHAI '23: "But in the other way, I feel like that he [Carlos] has achieved many things more than I did at the moment, and me, personally, I think, at the moment, the biggest rivalry he has is Novak because of certain circumstances of points and World Number One and Grandslams throughout the last two years [...]"

I’ve observed Jannik avoids getting ahead of himself and making presumptions about the future— I’m not sure whether it’s because of superstition, his realistic perspective about the rapidly-changing brutal nature of tennis as a competitive sport or something else —which is why he doesn’t entertain talks about the future of their rivalry as easily as Carlos does.

At the time, this raised a lot of eyebrows, but Carlos predicted Jannik would become World Number One in 2024, which Jannik did. The reason behind the skepticism was that in 2023 the World Number One title had gone back-and-forth between Djokovic and Carlos until Djokovic emerged on top as the Year-end World Number One. Djokovic won all the slams apart from Wimbledon, which was won by Carlos. So, people were expecting a similar pattern in 2024.

LANGUAGE(S) THEY COMMUNICATE IN:

In 2022, Carlos said they both communicate in Spanish. On the other hand, Jannik said he speaks in Italian while Carlos speaks in Spanish.

CARLOS: [...] We speak Spanish. I don’t know how to speak Italian. At the moment, we speak Spanish. (Source) Interviewer: “His [Jannik’s] Spanish is good?” CARLOS: “Yeah, he’s good. He has to improve, but his Spanish is good.”

JANNIK: “Sometimes we talk in the locker room. He speaks in Spanish and I speak in Italian, so we talk kind of mixed. But I think we understand us very well. Off court we are friends, we are good friends. I mean, also now after his match and my match, we saw each other in the ice bath. I think we are in a good relationship which hopefully can live for many years because this is the most important.” (Source)

(A/N: Fast forward to the trophy ceremony in Rome 2025, where Carlos told Jannik to speak in Italian because he understands, while Carlos gave his speech to Jannik in English because Jannik’s Spanish isn’t that good [?])

BOTH ARE ALIKE OFF-COURT:

Because of their contrasting personalities, I’ve seen people make assumptions that they don’t mesh well off-court or wonder whether they have anything in common to talk about outside of tennis, but they’re actually quite similar off the court and get along well. In particular, they both place a lot of value on honesty, integrity, and being good people. They both keep close to their small circles. 

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2024: “Two young, great kids, not just on the court but off the court as well. Their friendship is real. They both respect each other and like each other and you’ll see that on the court tomorrow regardless of who wins [...]”

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2024: “I think Carlos is very similar to Jannik in both the way they play with the excitement level they bring to the game, and their personalities and their likability. Both guys are incredibly alike off the court. They both like each other.”

JANNIK: "It's easy for Carlos and me to get along. We are quite similar off the court. When we play, however, we are a bit different, but that's normal, it's our nature. Off court, I listen to him, I get the feeling he likes to be surrounded by the people closest to him, as I am. Carlos pushes me to be a better player."

JANNIK, SHANGHAI 2024: “[...] For me it’s nice that we’re rivals on the court and friends off the court [...] Off the court, we are quite similar, because we surround ourselves with our close ones, we like to stay with the team, um, you know there are many, many things, similar things I feel like [...]”

Alcaraz said of Sinner: “I always say you have to be a good person first and athletics comes after that. Jannik thinks the same thing.”

DARREN CAHILL (JANNIK’S COACH), 2025: “Now Carlos and Jannik aren’t going out to dinner together either, but they are mates. They’re in the locker room, they’re talking. I’m part of some of their conversations. I won’t repeat what they are because most of it focuses around what 23-year-olds and 21-year-olds talk about, but they have fun, and they enjoy each other’s company.”

They’re both big football fans.

So you won’t be dropping Carlitos a text if Italy beats Spain in their group-stage match? [JANNIK] No, I will never do that… [Pauses to laugh and grins]... Maybe!

ON-AND-OFF DIVORCE ERA A.K.A We’re so back / It’s so over / We’re so fucking back / it’s joeover

They forgot to sit down and define the relationship, so were on completely different pages for a good part of 2024.

Things were looking good in Indian Wells.

They were high-fiving and chatting each other up in the tunnel before their match, Carlos waited for Jannik so they could leave the court together when the match was delayed because of rain, giggling together as they left the court (bonus: carlos patting Jannik’s b—), sat together in the locker room and talked about life, also laughed about:

CARLOS, INDIAN WELLS 24: “Well, we were laughing about it with Jannik when it [match] suspended, because I had bees, had the rain.”

Things changed around Miami.

While Carlos was waxing poetic about their futures:

“Hopefully Jannik and I both have a long and beautiful future ahead of us.” (N: Oddly romantic thing to say: sounds like Carlos wants to spend the rest of their lives together.) CARLOS, MIAMI 2024

Also, Carlos saying more downbad and incriminating things like: “He means a lot to me.” (INDIAN WELLS ‘24) 

For the first time, in Miami 2024, Jannik defines their relationship as not that close as previously painted:

“[...] We have a lot of respect for each other and, obviously, off the court we don't speak that much because he has his own things and I have my things."

Some of the reactions from this reddit thread are worth a read, lol.

(Skipping a major arc: Roland Garros '24)

Things started looking good again months later during Beijing. Chatting in the gym (part 1, part 2). Carlos was looking to give Zendaya a run for her money the way he was laughing in part 1. I would say Jannik isn’t that funny, but too many people close to him have said otherwise, so maybe he is indeed just that funny.

Just look at them during the trophy ceremony. 

“I respect you a lot as a player but even more as a person” was very much needed after all the noise that had reemerged with the WADA appeal.

Jannik and Carlos greet each other’s teams.

They shared a flight together after their final:

Carlos’ interview about it. Jannik’s interview about it (his little giggle when asked about the photo was so cute).

During Shanghai, someone pulled Uno reverse, because now Jannik was talking about how they’re friends off court but Carlos was like we’re not that close.

CARLOS, SHANGHAI ‘24: "We don't talk too much when we are around. Obviously, we have a really good relationship off the court as well. I think we both respect each other a lot, as a player, as a person, but once we are on tour traveling, you know, during tournaments when we are on-site, we are with our team, on our own, so we don't speak too much. When we can, we talk a little bit besides tennis about life a little bit, but not too much. It means, we have a good relationship, but we are not close friends, you know, but I think the respect that we have, you know, put [us] in a position that we have a really good relationship."

For renowned downbad Carlos to say this, the people were certainly shocked. He managed to fight off the allegations until he lost the war by cheesin’ so hard just because Jannik grouped him as a legend during the trophy ceremony in Shanghai (the final was between Jannik and Djokovic but Carlos was there to watch).

Just look at him:

Their exhibition final, SIX KINGS SLAM ‘24 was a gift that kept on giving:

Silly confusion because the announcer got their walkout order wrong, Jannik removed confetti from Carlos’ hair, Jannik—I wake up in the morning thinking about Carlos—Sinner, Carlos refused to let go of Jannik, bench talks etc.

I: So, did you just tell us that everyday you wake up you think about him [Carlos]?

(The interviewer decided to choose violence and not let that insane statement from Jannik go by unnoticed by everyone in that stadium)

JANNIK: [Flustered pause] “Well, no, I mean… [Jannik laughs in panic while Carlos looks utterly delighted] It would be strange, no?”

(The interviewer had to intercede and save him.)

I: “In practice terms."

(Love how the interviewer said this in such a pointed way, like gay boy your mind went there by itself, I was talking about practice)

I: "He’s your biggest rival, isn’t he, over the next few years. Do you still get on as friends?”

JANNIK: “I mean, we understand each other very well. We travel a lot. We are, I would say good friends [turns to check with Carlos, who nods], you know. Not obviously the best out of the best, but y‘know, we also like to share every time when we go on the court. We try to enjoy [...]”

Carlos decided to send signals to Jannik during his press conference that he wants to be friends:

“[...] We don’t spend too much time together off the court, but I would love to.”

He WOULD LOVE TO. Jannik did that blazing signal manage to transmit through your thick curls?

I really liked this comment on their relationship:

It explains everything pretty well.

It's hard to be friends with the person who is responsible for chipping away your soul and body in a grueling battle that lasts for hours, who rips your heart into pieces by squashing your dreams and taking the one thing you wanted the most (when it was nearly within reach).

Poor Jannik has cried enough times because of Carlos 😭

“Tears of happiness? I haven’t had them yet. [I cried] after [losing to] Carlos in the US Open, also a bit at Roland Garros,” Jannik adds. “There are always moments when you feel emotions you don’t want in the locker room or sometimes when you’re in transportation or even in the hotel room alone. It means you care about the sport. It means you want to reach this level." (Source / 2024)

I liked this analysis on them.

FOR JUST CO-WORKERS, THEY’RE TOTALLY NORMAL ABOUT EACH OTHER:

They both wake up in the morning and think about each other.

Carlos [about Jannik during Roland Garros ‘24]: "...to wake up in the morning and want to improve my game to try to beat him..." [Source]

Jannik [about Carlos on two different occasions]: "...he pushes me to do better. I wake up in the morning trying to understand what I can do better trying to beat him next time, which is something nice for me as a player." [Source]

Jannik: "...we try to push ourselves to the limits, you know, I wake up in the morning trying to understand the ways how to beat him and you know this kind of rivalries and this kind of players they push us always to our 100% limit..." [Source]

CARLOS, SHANGHAI ‘23: “[...] Against him, as I said, it’s different.”

JANNIK, SHANGHAI ‘24: “[...] It’s like fire and ice, a bit [...]”

Interviewer: “Carlos was in here, and he said it really hurts to lose against you. Especially against you. Do you love to win, especially against him?” JANNIK: “[...] Obviously, both of us, we hate losing, especially against each other.”

CARLOS, INDIAN WELLS ‘24: “I mean, I hear some declarations from Tommy Paul that was funny for me, that he's [Jannik’s] absolutely naked right now. He’s playing naked, so [...]” (Source) / “I hear some words from Tommy Paul that he’s [Jannik’s] playing absolutely naked, so he’s right [...]” (Source)

Guess he liked the thought of Jannik playing absolutely naked so much that he had to mention it more than once. Alright.

CARLOS, ROLAND GARROS ‘24: “That’s when I thought, ‘Jannik, if you really want to beat me, you’re gonna have to take me out on a stretcher.’”

“Everything he does, he does it perfectly.”

CARLOS, ROME ‘25: “[...] Honestly, I’m going to say I need him in the tour [...]” / “I’m not going to get tired of saying, y’know, how amazing a person, athlete you are.”

JANNIK, ROLAND GARROS ‘25: “He’s [Carlos’] a player with charisma, with that aura. The moment he steps on court, you can feel his presence.”

CARLOS, ROME ‘25: I'm more focused when I'm playing against him, or I feel a little bit different when I'm going to face him than other players. He has that aura. When you're seeing him on the other side of the net, it's different.”

Where’s that twitter post that went along the lines of: aura is basically you calling another man attractive

CARLOS, ROLAND GARROS ‘25: “[...] It’s a privilege to share the court with you, in every tournament, making history with you.” 

Not to be cheesy and quote Red, White & Royal Blue, but: “History, huh?”

We've only scratched the surface here (their divorce 2.0 still remains unearthed), but this post has gotten too long, so I'm going to end it here. Hopefully, this proves useful to someone.

[e1e4n0r5]

Their Little Plaything: Epilogue

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Bullies Cait & Vi x Loner Nerd Reader

Words: 3449

Synopsis: 6 years later, our happy threesome lives their best lives

Warnings: i will not be held responsible for what i write when i'm ovulating. Breeding kink, HexStraps that get you pergnart, strap-on, strap-on referred to as cock, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, wand vibrator, talk of safe words, spit play, drink-mouth-swap thing 🫣, breath play/air restriction, mention of collar blink and you'll miss it, talk of getting pregnant/pregnant body

Notes: "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened," FUCK YOU I'M CRYING 😭 I had no idea so many people would read this story, it's genuinely meant so much that you've loved it 😭 But we still have the bonus chapters. It's not goodbye for TLP Cait x Reader x Vi. We've all earned this ending, so enjoy!

6 Years Later

You arrived back home, bags from your shopping trip weighing down your arms. Cait had organised a day out with your mother as a surprise, giving you the family card with strict instructions to ‘buy everything you think we’ll like’. Still, you’d limited yourself to a few new dresses, a pair of shoes, and a little bracelet they can seal around your wrist.

You headed into the house and detoured to the study when you heard voices. Smiling when you heard your wives, you paused outside, not wanting to interrupt if it was important.

“We’re very happy with the design.” Jayce, a family friend, co-found of HexTech.

Viktor, the other co-founder, was also present. “This inner device will collect- Oh wait…Are you both comfortable with the inner devices?”

“What makes you think we wouldn’t be comfortable?” Vi challenged. You couldn’t see her but you could imagine her crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow.

“Well…Um…”

“We’re both perfectly comfortable with that, Viktor,” Cait reassured him. You knew she was giving a little pleased smirk.

“Yes…So, as I was saying: the inner devices will collect-”

“Don't care,” Vi interrupted. “Yes or no: will these let us put a baby in Y/N?”

“What the fuck?!”

You burst into the room, eyeing the four of them standing around the large desk in the centre of the ornate room. Jayce and Viktor blushed bright red, obviously very uncomfortable as you entered; Vi was smirking, almost proud that you had heard her; and Cait was calm and collected.  

Laid on the desk were two harnesses with inner shafts in the crotch emitting a faint blue glow. They had no toys attached to the front, but there was a closed metal briefcase next to them.

Cait just smiled at you. “Hello, darling. How was your shopping trip? Is your mother well?”

You glared at her, putting your bags down. “She sends her love, as always. And our shopping trip – which I see now was a distraction shopping trip, not a loving surprise you organised! – was nice, thank you. But now I'm wishing I'd been more punishing on your card.”

She just kept smiling. “Our card, darling. And do you want to go back out and be more punishing?” she dared, knowing you wouldn't. Despite her and her family's practically limitless funds, you still had trouble spending their money. Despite Cait and Vi constantly telling you it was your money too.

“I want to know what's going on,” you said sarcastically, looking between her, Vi, Jayce, and Viktor. “What are these things?” you asked, looking at the harnesses.

“Well, we don't have an official name yet-”

“I still say you should go with ‘HexStrap’,” Vi teased.

Viktor blushed. “But essentially they will convert female sexual fluids-”

“It's going to let us knock you up,” Vi explained, looking like the cat who got the cream.

Your mind was blown. “That's possible?”

Jayce nodded. “Female-female fertilisation is possible with certain technology-”

 “Yes, darling, it's possible,” Cait smiled at you.

“And the babies would be healthy?”

Cait and Vi smiled at each other at your maternal concern.

Viktor nodded. “All the research indicates any foetuses conceived can be carried to term and live perfectly healthy lives.”

Not wanting to give in too easily, you raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms brattily. “Well, what if I want to get you pregnant?” you challenged both of them.

They just looked back at you; Vi with a sceptical smirk, Cait with an amused tilt of her head.

“Alright, you don't have to be so loud,” you snapped back.

“Sweetheart,” Vi said softly, coaxingly, sweetly, “why don't you take your new things upstairs; we’ll be up in a bit, you can show us what you bought.”

“And then you show me your new things?” you asked sarcastically.

Vi just smiled at you. “Five.”

Your eyes widened, looking at Cait for backup. It didn't come.

“Ten,” she replied.

“No, I'm going!” you rushed back over to the bags you'd put down, picking them all up.

“Fifteen!” Vi called after you. In the distance, an anguished ‘no!’ could be heard running up the stairs.

“Do we go for twenty?” Cait asked Vi thoughtfully.

“Let's see how well these things work first,” she nodded her head to the straps.

“Should we ask?” Jayce whispered to Viktor.

He shook his head. “I think it's best not to.”

You paced around the bedroom as you waited for Vi and Cait to come upstairs with their new toys. They were seriously going to impregnate you with those things without asking you?!

You heard the front door close downstairs, then footsteps slowly started to make their way upstairs. You wanted to run out and meet them there, but they’d told you to wait in the bedroom. Plus, they had already counted to fifteen; you didn’t need your night to get any worse.

The door opened and they stepped inside. Vi carried a large metal briefcase, Cait the smaller one.

“What’s going on?!”

“Just a favour we asked of some friends,” Vi smirked, walking over to Cait’s desk and placing the briefcase on it.

“Some techno strap-ons that’ll get me pregnant?” you demanded, crossing your arms indignantly.

Cait raised an eyebrow. “We’ve discussed having children, Y/N, you said you wanted us to start a family. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

“No, I haven’t, not at all! But I didn’t know that meant you’d asked Jayce and Viktor for HexTech straps!”

“HexStraps,” Vi corrected with a grin.

“When were you planning on telling me you’d done this?” you snapped.

“Sweetheart,” Cait soothed, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks. “Take a breath and let us explain.”

You sullenly took a deep breath, letting them speak.

“When we first discussed children last year, we asked Jayce and Viktor if there was anything they could do. If there was any way we could have children ourselves. They’ve been working on it since then. They told us last week that they needed to talk to us, so I arranged for you to be out of the house today, in case they gave us bad news.”

Vi stroked your back. “We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to promise you something and then disappoint you if they couldn’t make something work. But it looks like they have,” she smiled, looking at the briefcases.

“Do you want to take a look?” Cait asked gently.

You were suddenly nervous, but nodded. Their hands in the small of your back, they led you over to the desk. They each opened a briefcase, letting you see inside. Looking more closely at the harnesses, you could see how beautiful and intricate they were. The harnesses had fine gold woven into the fabric of the straps; the inner phallic shafts a soft metal with HexTech glowing blue inside.

“Will they be comfortable for you both?” you asked in concern.

Cait smiled. “We tried on several models; they're very enjoyable to wear.”

You nodded, relieved that your wives’ efforts to give you a baby wouldn't be painful for them, even though you knew they would endure whatever was needed if it meant giving you something you wanted.

You looked into the other briefcase, intrigued. “Why are there different sizes? And surely we only need two?”

“Why limit ourselves to only two cocks to fuck you with?” Cait teased.

You blushed. “So...When can we try them out?”

“You ready for us to put a baby in you, sweetheart?” Vi asked, bending your legs back to your shoulders, making you groan as her cock filled you more deeply. “You want us to make you a mommy?”

“Fuck, yes,” you wept, grabbing at her hips, pulling her in closer.

Vi pinned you to the bed, her HexStrap pressing deep inside you. Your eyes rolled back as she brushed your cervix, your back arching. “You like my cock inside you, baby?”

You nodded desperately, cupping her cheek, kissing her deeply as she fucked you. You moved together, panting as writhed and pressed against each other.

You cried out as you orgasmed, your cunt clamping down almost painfully on Vi’s cock as she came inside you for the first time, your hips trying desperately to meet hers as you felt her cum spill inside you.

They both kissed your neck and cheeks as you came down, letting your catch your breath.

“Now, that was one, sweetheart,” Vi said as she pulled out of you, moving to the side so Cait could take her place.

“What number did we say earlier?” Cait taunted, moving your hands above your head and pinning them down with one hand.

Your eyes widened. “No…No, please! I-I can’t do that many!”

“You can, and you will, darling,” she threatened, rubbing the tip of her cock against your leaking hole. “Because we’re not stopping until you’re dripping with our cum and have a baby in your belly.” She pressed inside, sliding her strap into your already aching hole.

An hour later, you were sobbing into the sheets as Cait pressed you into the mattress, knees wide apart, chest to the bed, pussy literally dripping onto the bed.

“Ei…Eight,” you wept.

“Good girl,” she panted in your ear, sweat coating her brow, pulling her cock out of you, breathing deeply.

“How about we take a break?” you heard Vi ask. You moaned appreciatively, your face buried in the sheets. Vi laughed. “No, not you, sweetheart.” Hands rolled you over onto your back, holding your legs apart. You blinked your eyes at Vi, your vision slightly blurry.

She smirked at you, holding up a wand like a weapon.

“N…Noooo,” you moaned weakly, your bottom lip trembling.

She hovered over you, her nose a few inches from yours. “Colour, baby?”

You hiccupped sadly. “Green.”

With a dangerous smirk, she turned the wand on. Holding herself above you, keeping her eyes locked with yours, she slowly traced it down your stomach, threatening you with what was to come. You shook as the vibrations got closer to your pussy, gasping and shuddering when they finally started assaulting your clit.

You cried and whined as the powerful sensations rocked through you, your pussy already promising another orgasm. You held Vi’s shoulders with trembling hands as you rode the wand, your hips moving out of your control.

“Good girl,” she teased, licking into your mouth, swallowing your moans.

It sent you over the edge when she sucked your tongue, crying out into her mouth as your hips rocked and pulsed.

“How many, baby?” Cait asked, crouching next to the bed with a cold bottle of electrolyte drink, pressing it to your neck.

You whimpered. “Nine.”

“Do one more and then you can have a drink, darling,” she gently shook the bottle as if it were a prize to be won. But your body obeyed, not that the wand gave you much choice. Only two minutes later, your body shook with another climax, twitching under Vi.

When you moaned out, “Ten,” Vi moved off you, turning off the wand and setting it down.

“Come on, baby, let’s sit you up a little.” She supported you in her lap, holding you back against her chest.

“Are you ready for a drink, sweetheart?” Cait asked, opening the bottle.

You nodded, opening your mouth.

She smiled at you, taking a sip, squeezing your cheeks together, and trickling the drink into your mouth. You moaned as you swallowed, opening your mouth again. Cait chuckled and repeated the process; take a sip, squeeze your cheeks, pour the drink from her mouth to yours.

“Anymore?” she asked after she take a drink for herself.

You nodded, whining pitifully.

Vi smirked, standing you up and forcing you to your knees. Picking up the wand, she turned it on and handed it to you. Obediently, you held it to your clit, rocking on it as they both stood in front of you.

When you opened your mouth again, Vi held your jaw firmly and turned your head to her. “Greedy slut,” she growled, bending down and spitting onto your outstretched tongue.

You moaned loudly, your pussy throbbing. You kept your tongue out as Cait took another sip, leaning down and dribbling it into your mouth.

“Swallow, slut,” she instructed, handing the bottle to Vi.

The pink-haired butch took a drink of her own, then watched in amusement as Cait took her turn spitting onto your tongue. Vi held your eye as she made you wait, drinking from the bottle as you knelt in front of her, Cait’s spit waiting on your tongue, your eyes begging her for more drink. Not to wash away Cait’s spit – never – but to get the refreshing liquid directly from Vi’s mouth.

She finally took pity on you. “Are you almost at eleven?” You nodded, starting to moan as your cunt started to pulse again, empty without a cock in it. “Okay. Get to eleven, then you can have some more.”

“But don’t swallow before then,” Cait instructed, enjoying the sight of her spit still decorating your outstretched tongue.

You nodded obediently, embracing the orgasm that was building inside you. Keeping your tongue out the whole time, you moaned and whined as number eleven rolled through you, your breasts bouncing as you rocked on the wand.

When you started to settle down, Vi’s foot pressed the wand harder into your pussy. “Good girl,” she praised. “Let’s see how quickly we can get you to twelve.” She took the final drink from the bottle, squeezed your cheeks together, and slowly, agonisingly slowly, let the drink drip from her lips. Little by little she fed you the drink whilst your next orgasm built inside you. When she was finished, she put her hand over your mouth.

“Do not swallow, do you hear me? Finish this one, then you can swallow,” she instructed darkly, her eyes intense on yours.

You nodded, your eyes already starting to cross as your pussy started clenching again. You kept your eyes on hers, your foreheads pressed together, her hand over your mouth, as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. Vi cupped the back of your head, using both hands to hold you upright as you groaned and spasmed with your twelfth climax.

“Good girl,” she praised in your ear. “Now swallow, sweetheart. Swallow like a good girl.”

You swallowed the mixture of Cait’s spit and the drink, moaning as it went down your throat.

“You feeling okay, baby? Still green?” Vi asked, checking in on you, her hand still on your mouth.

You nodded as best you could, making a happy sound in your throat.

“One more here,” Cait commanded, putting her hair into a low bun, “Then we’re both going to fuck you one last time. Can you manage that, sweetheart?”

You nodded pathetically, your overstimulated clit starting to protest at the wand. Vi kept her hands on your mouth and head, watching you intensely as you started to climb again.

“You wanna do the thing, baby?” she asked.

You moaned behind her hand, nodding.

“Okay. Deep breath in,” she instructed. You obeyed, inhaling deeply through your nose. “And hold on.” She clamped her fingers over your nostrils, cutting off your air. You held your breath under her hand, the heady sensation increasing the pressure in your pussy.

“Well done,” Cait praised from behind you, her finger stroking over the thin leather around your neck.

When she’d counted to ten in her head, Vi moved her hand off your mouth. You inhaled deeply, gasping for breath. You whimpered as your pussy throbbed.

“Ready to go again?”

You took a few more breaths, nodding.

“Okay, breathe in…And hold.”

Pressing her hand over your mouth and nose again, Vi watched you carefully. Your body writhed on the wand, starting to shake as your orgasm grew inside you. They could both tell you were right on the edge, just about to fall over.

“Three, two, one,” Vi said quietly in your ear, then released your face, sending you into a strong orgasm when you were able to breathe again. You gasped and moaned, writhing violently on the wand, your brain suddenly hit with a rush of oxygen.

They held you as you shook, soothing your body to help calm down. Vi picked you up gently, laying you down on the covers.

“One more for us both, okay?” she soothed, pressing a kiss to each cheek.

You whined wretchedly, nodding.

Pushing your legs back to your chest, she guided her strap back inside you, making your back arch off the bed. You keened low, your body pliant as Vi fucked you with her cock.

“This is it, baby,” Vi urged in your ear, her hips moving frantically. “This is gonna do it.”

Cait stroked your hair softly. “Tonight’s the night you get a baby, darling. Oh, imagine if we both bred you tonight, if we both fucked a baby into you.”

You all moaned at the thought.

Vi grunted in your ear. “I can see it, two babies in your belly. You’ll be so round for us, sweetheart, you’ll look so good with our babies in you.”

You wept at the thought.

“But you have to come first,” Cait coaxed. “We can’t come if you don’t, and you can’t get a baby without our cum deep inside you.”

You whined in protest, at the idea of not getting your babies.

“So, finish for us, sweetheart,” Vi encouraged. “You can do it.”

That helped you over the edge, pussy clamping down on Vi’s cock. With a moan of her own, she spilled inside you, her hips pumping her cum into your waiting pussy.

“Fourteen, sweetheart. One more,” Cait smiled, taking Vi’s place. “Can you do it for us? For our future babies?” she asked, running her cock up and down your soaked slit. Not waiting for an answer, she slid inside you, both of you groaning. “One last time, baby, here we go,” she urged, thrusting her hips against yours. You laid under her, wanting to rock your body against her, to hold her close, but your body just wouldn’t move.

All you could do was moan against her thrusts, accepting everything she gave you. Vi reached a hand between you, rubbing your clit, and making you cry out as she did.

“Last one, sweetheart,” Vi spoke in your ear, kissing your cheek, pressing her forehead to yours.

It didn’t take long for you and Cait to cum one final time, Cait holding you close as she pumped her cum inside you.

They held you tightly, both of them cupping your stomach.

“We did it, baby. I know it.”

Three years later

You reclined back on the sofa, just waking up from your nap, one toddler under each arm, their precious heads on your chest. Mila, the eldest and your feisty little pink-haired girl, curled into your side. Eden, the calmer twin, fisted her blue-hair as she slept.

The door to the sitting room clicked open softly, your wives’ heads popping in. You smiled at them from your position, unable to move, lest you wake your babies.

They approached you quietly, crouching down in front of you.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Vi whispered.

“Do you feel more rested?” Cait asked, gently stroking your hair off your forehead.

You nodded sleepily. “A bit. These two are still bouncing around in there,” you nodded to your bumped stomach. “Hopefully they'll settle down before bed.”

Vi rubbed your bump. “They will,” she soothed, kissing you through your dress.

Mila shifted against you, propping herself up on her elbow. She blinkered her eyes open, which widened at seeing your wives. “Mama!” she cried, throwing herself at Vi.

Disturbed from her sleep, Eden groaned into your side, pulling herself closer.

Cait stroked her hair gently. “Eden,” she cooed, “It’s time to wake up.”

The small child pouted, reaching out for her. “Mother,” she begged to be picked up.

“Come here, darling,” she picked the child up, holding her close as she flopped in her arms.

“You both have to wake up,” Vi said, patting Mila’s back, “Auntie Powder’s coming over later for dinner.”

“Pow-Pow!” they both squealed excitedly, suddenly awake.

You laughed as Vi helped you up with her free arm, holding you close as you regained your centre of gravity. The five of you headed out into the garden, your hearts bursting with joy.

Sometimes you still woke up and expected to be that girl again, the one who kept your head down, who thought you didn’t belong, who flinched when people looked at you. But when you felt Vi’s hands on your bump, heard Cait murmuring to the twins through the baby monitor, and you remembered: you made it. Together.

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @spicedcherrylolli, @colettespace, @flowersareup

[fairylatte7]

are you bored yet? ~ Joaquín Torres

Joaquín’s job has often separated the two of you. His new duties as the Falcon haven't done anything to help the situation. This story takes place during one of the first quiet moments you and him have had in what feels like ages. 

Reader is addressed with she/her pronouns. 

One ticket to delulu land 😍! I was listening to Wallows and came up with this idea. It’s crazy because I haven’t listened to Are You Bored Yet? in years until now. I hope you enjoy it!!

Joaquín was hesitant to pursue a relationship from the beginning. Not because he didn’t like you. That certainly wasn’t the case. Anyone who knew him well knew he was madly in love with you, and he had been since his Air Force days. 

It was his job that kept him moving from place to place that caused his hesitancy. But he wanted you so bad. Every time he saw you was a blessing and a painful reminder that you weren't his. Each smile that you flashed and, eye-roll that you gave him after he said something boyish or immature, seemed to drive a pin deeper and deeper into his heart.  

He had to have you. 

But would you go for it? 

Or would you back down due to his circumstances? 

All this time later, his obsessive pining over you during that era feels like it took place in another universe. As far as he was concerned, you had always been his and he had always been yours. 

Despite your official relationship status, being away from you never got easier. And since becoming the Falcon, he was seeing you less and less. 

Joaquín was incredibly proud of how well you were taking it all. As much as you would love to have him in your arms 24/7, the sight of him doing what he loves and helping so many people was irreplaceable. 

You kept pictures of him up in your apartment and in your wallet. Your phone lockscreen was a photo that was taken of the two of you at a gala in D.C. Even if you were kinda embarrassed to admit it, you loved to talk about him. It was a way to remind yourself that he was real. 

He was really yours. 

Joaquín brought you up every chance he got. From interviews, to small talk, as soon as he got the chance to mention you, he took it. It got to the point that there were certain words Sam wouldn’t say around him. A particular color, food, or movie would set the poor boy on a rambling marathon about you because, in Joaquín's words, “Everything reminds me of her.”, he would say while wistfully looking off into the distance. 

It was on a crisp fall evening in September that you and Joaquín had one of your first quiet moments together.

He was in D.C. for one of those government- sanctioned public events that Sam made him go to. Despite Joaquín’s annoyance with having to attend, it gave him an excuse to spend the weekend with you. Due to the long period of separation, the two of you spent much of your time bouncing from restaurant, to museum exhibit that you told him “he just has to see”, to “sick-ass workout class” that Joaquín “has been meaning to check out.” 

You two were running around Washington D.C. like mad-men, going from thing to thing. It was fun, tiring but fun. The feeling of your hand in his and the soft forehead kisses that Joaquín planted on your forehead made everything worth it. 

As the sun began to set, Joaquín formed a pensive look on his face. 

There was a slight chill in the air. Autumn leaves were falling down and the golden light on your boyfriend’s face made him look like a vision. Joaquín always shined. He lit up every room he walked into; it was one of the things you loved about him from the start.  

He squeezes your hand as he looks down at you. “I wanna take you to one more place. Are you up for it?”, he smiles. 

You nodded. Was it even a question? 

He took you to a park near the downtown area. It was a lovely stroll to his chosen location. It was the first time since seeing him that you weren't rushing to be somewhere. 

Joaquín stopped next to a picnic table. He turned to face you, grabbed your waist, and swiftly scooped you off of your feet and sat you on top of it. You had forgotten how strong he was. You were caught off-guard, but the act of him picking you up had you giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

“You like that?” He laughed, clearly proud of himself. “I should do that more often.”

“Yeah, you should.”, you replied. 

You couldn’t stop smiling. You were terribly in love with him.

He leaned back so that his back was laying flat on the tabletop. You did the same. 

The sky was painted auburn and burgundy. The sun shone through what was left of the leaves on the trees. 

The two of you laid there in a comfortable silence for a while. 

When you finally turned to face Joaquín, you found that he was already looking at you. 

The small beams of sunlight that remained as the sun remained in the sky for its final few minutes of the day reflected off of his eyelashes. 

You could barely breathe. 

He reached out his hand and traced your jawline with his hand. A flash of confusion appeared on his face. 

You broke the silence. 

“What is it?”, you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re really here.”, his voice falters. 

“I’ll always be here for you, Joaquín. Even if I’m not here.” You tell him.

He turns his head to face the sky once again. 

The silence hangs in the air, not in an ominous way. It’s peaceful.

“We’ve spent, ah.. 48 hours straight together…” He trails off. 

You go to speak, but he beats you to it. 

“Are you bored of me yet?” He’s facing you again. 

“What kind of question even is that, Joaquín?” You deadpan in the kindest way possible. 

“I had all of this stuff lined up for us to do, because I never see you. I felt like I needed to compensate by doing as much as possible. But the best part of my day, heck, the best part of the past few months has been us on this picnic table.” 

Joaquín had this casual way of saying things that tugged at your heart in a hundred different directions. 

“What if I told you that I feel the same exact way?” You ask him. 

“Oh, I’d kiss you, for sure.” He holds back a smile. 

“I feel the same exact way.” You say quickly. 

Joaquín stays true to his word. He holds your face in his hands and pulls you close to him. 

The way he kissed you warmed your whole body. He snaked one of his hands around your body and rubbed circles around your lower back. You smiled into the kiss, then the two of you just laid together, enjoying each other’s presence. 

Even after it all, Joaquín Torres is worth more than what your time apart could ever take from you. 

photo and gif are from pinterest. divider credits to @anitalenia

thank you for reading <3

[earlysunshines]

flower girl

danielle marsh x fem!florist!reader

synopsis: you never expect much from your job at the flower shop but then the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on stumbles in

warnings: litcherslly none i don’t think anything rly ; very fluffy ; reader is awkward and loser and dorky ; danielle’s gorgeous and bubbly and cutesy and dorky too ; two dorky idiots that want each other i fear ; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: my writing is so much worse now it’s actually so bad and this is bc i haven’t written in a bit but also haven’t been reading like anthrjng (other than textbooks for class)… ooh.. ALSO heavily based off this song!!!

most people would assume that working at the towns flower shop is all sunshine’s and rainbows—the atmosphere is littered with beautiful arrangements, vibrant colors, and the gorgeous interior always has light seeping in through the windows just right. 

working at the flower shop would be perfect if it weren’t for the fact that you were single. maybe if a lovely girl was waiting for you to clock out, ready to give you a soft kiss to the lips you’d enjoy your shifts more—but no. 

today isn’t different from the others. when is it ever? 

“babe, babeeee~” a girl whines in an uncomfortably high pitched voice that it makes you cringe a bit. your brows scrunch in a bit when you hear her, “pumpkin stop— haha— th-that tickles!” 

pumpkin? gosh, you might throw up into the flowers you’re fixing up. 

the couple that had walked in wasted no time getting all touchy and displaying the pda that no one asked for. 

(“no one” being you and only you because your manager is taking orders in the comfort of her office while you suffer out in the main area) 

the boyfriend pulls her closer, his chest pressing against her back as he peppers kisses on her neck, giggling like an idiot. you have to redirect your attention completely to block them from your peripheral, trying to endure only the sound now. 

“love bug, i can’t help it.” he tries to say quietly, but you’re the only people in the shop, making it increasingly difficult to put up with this. 

you sigh. the only way to get them to stop sooner is to go up to them, put on your customer service voice, flash a friendly smile, and hope for the best.

“hi! did you guys need any help with anything?” he’s still holding on to her when he looks over at you and nods. 

“yeah, yeah. just wanted to buy my girl some flowers. which ones are the prettiest? she likes pink.”

this job tests you everyday.

why would you buy flowers with her here? is it not usually a surprise? why are you using half of your singular braincell to think of a choice for your lover?

you criticize him knowing that he doesn’t really care what you give him, and judging by his tone—plus his ignorance and lack of interest for the vast options surrounding him—you could probably hand him polyester flowers and he wouldn’t think twice about the fact that they wouldn’t deteriorate at all in the next few years.

instead of giving in to your thoughts, your smile grows again. “right. well, a popular selection of pink flowers would be the classic rose bouquet, but we can also do a smaller bouquet of three.” you explain before poining across the shop to another arrangement. “and those are our tulips—another popular choice. as you can see, there’s a variety of colors, but depending on how many you need i’m able to provide a bouquet of pink.”

“okay, cool, cool.” he says, looking around. without thinking twice, he shrugs, then points to the roses. “i’ll take like, five? i don’t know how you do it. just pop ‘em in those little things so we can hold it and that should be it. it’s date night—need something nice for my girl.”

“oh stop it pumpkin… you’re so sweet.” the girl gushes, moving over to peck his lips.

your purse your lips into a forced smile, nodding at them. “right, i can hand you a bouquet of five. give me a few minutes.” 

they nod and offer a “thank you,” before going back to being all loving and everything that manages to make you throw up in your mouth. a groan leaves your lips as you get to work.

once you’re done, you hand the man the bouquet. “these are pretty fresh, so i’d say they’ll last a week if you care for them nicely. make sure the vase you store them in has clean water and whatnot.”

he nods and offers a friendly smile before giving the flowers to his girlfriend. she kisses him on the cheek and says thank you to him like this is the best gift in the world, but you beg to differ. you also don’t get paid enough to judge boyfriends doing the bare minimum, so you simply wave at them and say, “thank you for purchasing!”

once they leave, the comforting hum of your jazz playlist fills the silence. you’re left relieved. 

you sort out a few more flowers, pick up petals that fell on the ground, and clean up other messes from the day before the bell above the door rings.

a “welcome in!” leaves your mouth before you turn around to see who’s decided to stop by. you assume it’s a couple, or maybe the rare occasion that it’s someone elderly or the rarer occasion: a group of teenagers browsing around.

after fixing your hair, you turn around and are immediately met with pretty brown eyes that land right on your gaze.

a girl, the very pretty girl, looks around your age—probably a student like you. she lets the door close behind her and a small flush of wind brushes her hair across her face perfectly.

there’s a shiver that runs down your whole body. the way her lashes flutter when she blinks is like some sort of mind-blowing cinematic movie scene. she smiles, waving at you and tucking a strand of hair behind her ears which somehow renders you speechless.

“hi! how are you?” she greets. her voice is bright and cheery.

you’re already impressed considering no customer has asked how you were today—or at all this week.

(it’s only wednesday, but it still means something to you.)

you smile easily, not a forced one, a genuine smile.

“i’m doing well, and you?” 

“great now that i’m here,” she says, her eyes wandering around the mildly cluttered area. “it’s beautiful inside. must be nice working here, i bet.”

“it is.” you respond, “i never get tired of the scenery.”

“who would?” she says sweetly, her eyes molding into crescents as she smiles again. “i can’t believe i haven’t stopped by… i walk pass this place almost everyday.”

“is that so?”

“mhm,” she nods, “it’s on the way to my work.”

“well, feel free to stop by anytime—even if you’re not purchasing.” you assure, “can i help you with anything?”

she nods again. “i wanted to surprise my friend with flowers, but i wanted it to be special. i needed some expert opinions.”

dusting off your apron, you chuckle quietly, “i can help you with that. is there anything you have in mind?”

she shifts her gaze, the expression on her face that signature “i’m thinking” look—like in the movies but somehow more dorky. 

“my friend has a strong personality… something bright and vibrant would be good. it matches her.” she begins, then walks over to the marigolds and brushes her finger over a petal, “her birthday is in october, so i looked into her birth flowers too.”

“marigold,” you almost whisper, “you did your research?”

“she’s one of my good friends.” the girl shrugs. “i want to get her something meaningful.”

a warmth spreads through your body, maybe from relief and surprise since this is the first time anyone has put any thought into what they’ve asked you to arrange.

“that’s cute.” you smile, giggling lightly, “your friend is lucky to have you.”

she smiles back—you're unsure if the smile ever left but now she’s smiling at you like that and you could really care less—and you make your way over to some marigolds and cosmos. 

“i think, in my opinion, some fall colored flowers and her birth flowers would be good.”

“i trust you, miss…” she trails off, looking at your nametag, squinting at your handwriting, and meeting your eyes again. “miss y/n.” 

your name, from that voice of hers and that dorky grin, sends another shiver down your spine. 

“i’m glad you have that much faith in me.” you joke.

the girl walks around the shop while you fix up her bouquet. the shop isn’t too big, but enough to fit a wide variety of flowers, excluding the special exceptions that decorate the shop outside. occasionally you’ll glance over at her and she’ll be immersed in observing the flowers. she takes pictures, brushes her fingers over the petals, and appreciates them for the same amount of time until she’s decided to stop at the area where you arrange the gift for her friend.

she simply watches. there’s a curiosity that you catch in her eyes, they seem to add a slight sparkle. she watches until you’re finished with the bouquet, eyes on your nimble fingers fixing each petal and adjusting the position to be just right.

“there we go,” you mumble to yourself. you’re too busy eyeing the flowers from each angle to notice the smile of admiration on the girls lips.

you hand her the bouquet, dusting your apron off and fixing your rolled-up sleeves. she holds the bouquet without saying a word, just staring at you for a few seconds before she stops studying every feature on your face like it’s the last time she’ll see you.

“thank you so much. they’re so beautiful.” she says, sniffing the flowers lightly. “you’re so talented!”

“thank you.” you chuckle, “i’m just doing my job, really. i hope your friend likes them.”

you tap at the screen of the register in front of you, calculating the price of the bouquet and feeling yourself shrink in your spot at the feeling of her gaze. you can’t remember the last time someone made you this nervous—warm in the cheeks, fidgety with your fingers, and an idiot fighting back any awkward rambling. this girl manages to do it without trying and it’s awfully humiliating, but also embarrassingly exciting.

before you can tell her the total of her bouquet, she rids of any professionalism you have with one single comment.

“you smell really good.” she says, earning a raised brow from you. “i hope it’s not weird.” she laughs lightly and it works at easing the tension in your shoulders. you feel yourself relax as she continues, “you smell like… well considering you work here i guess flowers would make sense, but you smell like pear and something refreshing. it’s strong, but not too strong. it’s noticeable—but it’s nice! very nice. sorry.”

“i–” how do you even respond to that? your heart is in your throat because she’s flashing an awkward smile—maybe because she’s realized what she’s said or maybe because it’s just the two of you and the room squeezing in—you mirror her expression and bite the inside of your lip before responding, “it’s jo malone. thank you. i, i um, it was a gift from someone. i really like the way it smells. it pairs well with the jasmine.“

what were you even saying? you want to disappear right then and there right after you say it, but you don’t. you don’t because she’s giggling and pulling out her credit card that’s on her phone screen.

you gulp and add, “oh, yeah— um, your total is twenty-five dollars and seventy cents.”

“jo malone… expensive.” she says as she scans her card. “thank you for everything, by the way. they’re beautiful. i have to stop by again.”

“well, i’ll look forward to it.” the ounce of confidence you have in your body seems to spill from your lips and reach your eyes from the way you’re looking at her. your eyes narrowed just barely while simultaneously softening up just for her. “come by anytime.”

“thank you—” she glances at your nametag once more, then puts her hand on your forearm. you feel like you’re in a simulation and being toyed with, or worse: a romance movie and you’re the desperate fool who’s been chosen as the main character. “---y/n.”

she waves and you wave back, then leaves, making the doorbell ring and even that sounds like something from a movie. the bell has never rung that cheerfully.

—

on your way back home, and for the rest of the week, you think about the girl. you’re an idiot for not asking for her name, so you’ve resulted to calling her “flower girl” for the time being.

your friends are also on to you, catching you smiling to yourself out of nowhere. you tell them you were thinking about the events of the multiple corny couples stumbling into your work, the utter embarrassment you feel from witnessing their pda making you smile, but they never believe it.

if you ever told them about “flower girl,” they’d shred you to pieces—verbally, of course—and poke fun at you for at least a week or two. 

what makes it worse is that you’ve been smiling more and thinking more and hoping she’d come back into work, but she doesn’t. a week passes and she still doesn’t, but two days after your one week anniversary of meeting (your friends would seriously tease you to death for what you call it), she shows up again.

the bell rings differently than normal. your ears twitch and you turn your head to see her. your eyes meet hers and so does your smile.

“y/n!” she beams, “happy friday!”

“hi.” you try to sound calm, composed—anything to play cool and hide how delusional you are. “it’s nice to see you again. happy friday.” you greet, continuing on when the silence stretches on for a mere two seconds, “need another bouquet?”

“no, just wanted to browse.” she shrugs.

and so she does, walking around and even crouching to match her level with a few of the shorter flowers. you pretend to go back to work, tending to the flowers and whatnot, really anything to keep yourself from staring at her. 

“how have you been?” she asks out of nowhere, catching you by surprise as you water some dandelions. 

“oh, i’ve been uh, i’ve been good. and you?”

“great. my friend really liked the flowers, by the way.”

“i’m glad. i was really fond of that arrangement. i thought about it the whole week.” and her, you’ve been thinking about more than just that gorgeous arrangement you completely forgot to get a picture of. 

“really? wow, i’m so happy that you liked it as much as i did! gosh, it was so pretty and everyone we met up with was amazed by the vibrant colors and everything. i referred them to you.”

you laugh, fully facing her now after setting down the water can. “thanks for helping out the business. my boss will be thrilled.”

“i hope your boss knows they have the best on their team!”

you laugh again, stepping a little closer to the flowers in front of you. “i’ll let her know, i hope it’ll convince her if it comes from me.” you joke.

she giggles and asks you about the flowers next to her. they’re chrysanthemums, a beautiful shade of yellow. you tell her a brief summary of the meaning, how popular they are, and that there’s a shipment for a different shade. the girl focuses on you the whole time, you catch her eyes scanning each feature of your face unless you specifically point to the flower. you never thought your job would come with the stress of meeting a pretty girl at your workplace who’s oddly eager to talk to you.

“yeah, i really like chrysanthemums, my mom does too. they’re a nice flower, pretty popular.” you shrug, lightly brushing your pointer over the edges of a few petals.

“what are your favorites then?” the girl questions, tilting her head ever so slightly to display her curiosity.

“oh, um.” you think to yourself, then glance around the room. 

there’s way too many to count and so many that you admire—which is why you decided to take this part-time job. 

you respond with the first two flowers that come to your mind. “lilies and daisies, probably.” you nod.

the girl looks over at the lilies in the room, grinning as she says, “i see why. gosh, the one’s you have here are so pretty.”

“yeah, i take care of them extra nicely.” you admit.

“is that so? i might have to invest in some eventually.”

“i’ll make sure they’re well-kept then.”

“hopefully they’ll be as pretty as the person handling them.” 

you blink. a blush blooms over your cheeks and your heartbeat picks up. 

before you can respond, she brushes over her compliment and continues, “i really like sunflowers. they’re so pretty, and they’re a classic.” she looks over to the sunflowers near the window. “my friends always compare me to them too.”

“i’m not surprised.” you mutter, and she catches it. her brows raise ever so slightly as if she’s waiting for an explanation. you catch her eyes with yours again while nervously adding, “you’re bright and… nice to look at.”

you swallow shallowly in the next five seconds that pass by without any response from her. you’re hoping she doesn’t notice how you tense your jaw while you try to hold up the composed act, but it’s really hard to keep it up when her lips curl into an even wider smile of amusement.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

the door rings suddenly, though not in the cheery tune that follows after your “flower girl” walks in. a couple, one that’s showing way too much affection for your liking, stumbles in and looks around curiously. 

a soft sigh leaves your mouth and “flower girl” giggles. she places her hand on your forearm—light and brief, but you’re thinking about it real hard in the two seconds that it happens—then presses her lips together to suppress how giddy she is.

“i have to get going, and i believe you have more company?”

“yeah,” you nearly groan, “excuse me, i have to um, assist them.”

“alright.” she studies the subtle shift of your expression and nods. “i’ll see you again, y/n.”

“yeah, see you.” you respond, watching her brush past the couple and toward the door.

before you make your way to the couple, you pinch your eyes shut and bite the inside of your lip; you forgot to get her name again. 

—-

you catch a few of your friends for lunch after a particularly draining shift. there were multiple people that needed help with picking flowers, which wouldn’t have been odd if it weren’t for the fact that most of them were for birthdays.

(it just had to be everyone’s birthday that day—or week.)

sohee, one of your closest friends, sits in front of you and pretends to look innocent after stealing one of your fries. chaewon and soobin giggle at the playful punch you throw at his shoulder, which makes him groan with the stolen fry still in his mouth.

“ask nicely next time.” you warn.

“you’re such a hypocrite! you took the fruit gummies from my apartment literally last—”

“okay? are you saying you want me to be malnourished? wow…”

“but—

“no.” you quickly shut him down while simultaneously trying to fight back a laugh. “you’re a man, you can’t be doing all that.”

chaewon rolls her eyes at your antics, then steals a fry without a complaint coming from you. soobin chuckles and sohee looks at all of you defeatedly.

throughout the rest of lunch you all catch-up with what’s been going on through the week. sohee’s been trying to convince his roommate to invest in a mini-fridge and chaewon groans as she explains how she’s been considering taking an extra class the next semester.

and while soobin goes over his chaotic month, you start smiling to yourself as you accidentally tune out his voice. your thoughts shift over to your encounter with “flower girl” two days ago. 

it’s incredibly odd how you’re eager to clock in to work now. it’s not that you hated your job, you truly loved it, but the customers were always iffy. now, you have something to look forward to, someone to keep yourself going when it’s slow or dreadful on certain days. 

chaewon flicks your forehead, snapping you out of a replay of her hand on your forearm.

“what the hell are you smiling about?” she asks, “did you hear what soobin just said?”

“uh,” absolutely nothing had processed in the past minute. “sorry.”

soobin nudges your shoulder. “damn… so you hate me.”

“well, yes.” you joke. “sorry, ‘binnie, i was just… thinking about work.”

“i thought you hated your job…?” he responds.

sohee joins in, “yeah, you were just complaining to the group chat about a couple that forgot to stop making out when you came back with their bouquet.”

“oh my god, i forgot about that, ugh… and that was literally a month ago.” the memory makes you cringe. “and no i do not hate my job! i love it.”

“something is up then.” sohee says, pointing at you dramatically. “what’s up with work? did something happen? is this why you’ve been so… giddy?”

“giddy?” you try to laugh off his accusation. “it’s not— i– it’s nothing!”

“she stuttered,” chaewon points out.

“that doesn’t mean shit!” you groan, “i’ve just… okay, works been better. look, there’s this new regular. she’s kind of a regular.”

“oh my god, this girl must be cute then.” soobin chuckles, raising his brows at you. “what, you’ve got yourself some type of flower girl?”

you’re baffled that he somehow read your mind and matched frequencies enough to know that you also call her flower girl. you want to scold him for jumping to the conclusion that you’re happier at work because of a pretty girl—but he’s quite on point, so you can’t really defend yourself.

“oh my god she’s blushing,” sohee mumbles, laughing with chaewon.

“oh shut up i hate you guys.” you groan, “she’s just nice and actually talks to me. i mean yeah she’s gorgeous but that’s not even the point. she’s different than usual customers and… i guess it’s a nice change.”

“so you want her,” soobin says before sipping on his tea. “pretty girl vs. y/n and she’s already losing.”

“i—”

okay maybe he’s right, but you’d never admit that. 

the rest of lunch consists of you getting teased until the topic switches into chaewon talking about kazuha and sakura, who have apparently been way too loud when playing video games late at night. soobin, however, manages to throw in one more teasing comment before you all depart, which earns a few more remarks from chaewon throughout the car ride home.

“everything used to soil your mood,” soobin’s words replayed in your mind over and over, “seems like this ‘flower girl’ is making you bloom.” 

his words were corny mainly because it was him saying it, but he wasn’t wrong. and it doesn’t help that chaewon keeps telling you that she supports whatever you have going on, saying that you’re “not as cranky” and “smiling like an idiot all the time.”

you blush the whole way home thinking about her and it’s ridiculous. this girl that’s shown up twice has you malfunctioning even outside of work.

—

“y/n, could you grab the shipments from the back? i unloaded them, they just need to be restocked. it’s a few boxes, nothing much.” your boss asks. 

“yeah, sure.” you respond, immediately heading to the back and looking around for the boxes she mentioned.

you have exactly one hour until work ends and the only thing on your mind is a nice big lunch since you only had time to eat a banana for breakfast. you feel the energy leaving your body as you carry the boxes, guessing they’re mainly seeds and supplies for the bouquets. the boxes shfit and a subtle sound hints that there’s some pots for people who end up buying something to display their flowers.

with a light thud, you place the boxes on the counter in the front and find the box cutter nearby. just as you suspected—there are a few packets of seeds, tools, and pots inside that you pull out and start restocking.

but in the corner of your eye you catch two people conversing outside. you’d brush it off if it weren’t for the fact that one of them was flower girl, who’s talking to your boss while pointing at the tulips.

your heart beats faster in your chest and a surge of urgency to finish restocking.

you jump at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder not too long later. turning your head, you catch your manager grinning at you.

“hey, i’ve got the rest. there’s a customer that you should help.” she tells you, but the look in her eyes screams something mischievous.

you nod, setting the pot in your hand back into the box before turning to meet the same big brown eyes that never fail to light up your day.

“y/n!”

“flower girl,” you mutter, though very quietly, just under your breath. “hi,” you greet, clear and professionally.

“how are you?” she asks, and it flows like last time; conversation with her is light and easy to ease into.

you tell her it’s a little slower today considering it’s tuesday, and you even drop a little “i’m glad you’re here to keep some brief company,” which earns a smile and a “i find stopping by the highlight of my week, it’s nothing.”

now you’re both trying not to blush and it’s impossible. it’s impossible because you notice that shade of blush she has on matches the carnations that you had to fix up yesterday. and on her end, she can’t help but notice that your hair is a little messier than usual, which adds to how cute she thinks you are.

you two converse in between her questions about flowers. she finds your anecdotes about each and every one interesting, interesting enough that she asks,

“hey, what are you doing later today?”

the question catches you off guard. “oh, um. probably nothing… maybe i’ll go on a walk or visit a friend… i don’t know… why do you ask?”

you can’t curb the blush that heats your face, so you pray it’s not noticeable.

“well, i’m off today and my schedule is pretty empty… i was hoping you’d let me pencil you in?”

you giggle at her response, hoping your manager doesn’t hear any of it because she’s also one to tease you like crazy.

“i’d… yeah, i’d like that.” you sound like an idiot. your mind runs in circles and your heart beats faster than it usually does—even faster than the time she (you’d hope) flirted with you. “i um, i get off in less than an hour… i hope you don’t mind waiting.”

she bites the inside of her lip and it feels like it’s just the two of you in the shop, with daisies sprouting around (metaphorically speaking, of course) to feed the fire that burns in your chest. 

“that’s perfect. do you like sandwiches?”

“i love them.”

“perfect. there’s a place not too far that i love—”

“down the block near the park?”

“yes! how did you—?”

“i go there all the time.” wow, this is perfect, you think to yourself. “we could grab lunch… maybe walk around…?”

she laughs and your whole body relaxes. 

“you’re really cute, you know?”

“i think you’re cuter.” you say without thinking. “and i feel unbelievably stupid that i’ve been calling the cute girl that stops by every week ‘flower girl.’ my friends keep teasing me because i never got your name.”

“you talk to me about your friends?’ she questions with a growing smirk.

“i— maybe.” 

“well, i’m glad i’m not the only one.”she breaks eye contact to look at the ground bashfully. “my friends have been… trying to help me build up the courage to ask you out.”

“really?”

“mhm.” she nods.

“well, i’d love to tell my friends more about you…” you trail off, remembering that you don’t even know her name.

“if i give you my name… would you give me your number?” she asks cheekily.

you chuckle. “i’ll consider it.”

her hand brushes the petal of a flower nearby—a pink hibiscus—before saying, “my name is danielle.”

“danielle,” her name trickles off your tongue with curiosity and wonder. her name isn’t uncommon, but it’s beautiful and a perfect fit for someone bright like her.

her smile grows along with yours.

“i guess i should give you my number then, danielle.” you test the way her name sounds coming from you and are just as content the second time around. it’s better than flower girl, but that’s not stopping you from calling her that again and again in the future.

“i’d need your number just in case i want to see you again,” she says with a light-hearted, teasing tone. “just in case you charm me well enough.”

“i’ll do my best then, flower girl.”

[the-librarby]

REWARD ME, WON’T YOU DARLIN’?

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

The night you escaped from your father’s clutches was the first night in your life that you felt free. Too bad a princess like yourself has a high price tag.

Better watch out for that bounty over your head.

(Credit to @/anitalenia for the cute banners)

Part II

Life at the castle was abysmal, it sounds ungrateful from royalty point of view but you just could stand the way your father was breathing down your neck to hurry up and find a royal suitor. In his eyes it was your time to prove useful, and while you had avoided it longer than others, now it seemed like one of the only things he could focus on.

It’s what this whole ball was for, a chance for you to display your beauty and status towards other royalty of neighbouring kingdoms. You couldn’t think of a worse place, with so many eyes on you it only made you wish that your mother was still around to turn towards.

You took a deep breath and shook your head to dismiss the thoughts. You couldn’t get distracted now, you had a plan— an escape. Despite there being so many people in the room, the ball was a perfect time to slip away. With your father’s laughter ringing out around the ballroom, you took that as an opportunity to excuse yourself. You were just about to enter your bedroom when a voice rings out from down the empty hall.

“Princess, what are you doing back here?” One of the guards, must be time for their rotations.

You smile, slightly backing away from the door, “Just excusing myself for the bathroom, no need to worry,” before place your finger on your chin in thought, “Actually, since you’re here. Father mentioned something about an unwanted guest, would you mind sorting that out for me?”

Awfully vague, but you hoped it would work, “I will keep an eye out for it,” he nods, but not moving.

You shake your head frantically, “No, it’s quite urgent. Please check in with my father, I won’t forgive myself if something goes awry tonight because of my cloudy memory,”

“But there is no one else on this floor,” he mentions.

“That is fine, I trust you’ll hurry back. This is far more important, I’ll only be a minute.” You assure.

Silently you hope that is enough to convince him, he stares a little while longer before letting out a sigh and turning on his heel. You don’t move from your spot until you see him disappear around the corner. A sharp exhale leaves your lips, not wanting to waste time you enter your room and drop to your knees beside your bed. Blindly you reach for a bag, it’s been concealed for a week, inside there is only what you think you’ll need. An unassuming outfit, cloak, and a few forgettable jewels you can sell off for money.

You hurry into the bathroom with it to change your clothes, there’s not a lot of time before the guard comes back to figure out your suspicious excuse. With clothes changed, you hike the cloak on and lift the hood over your head. You don’t have time to mull it over, it’s the best you can do to pass for a civilian. You shove the boots you stole from one of the stable boys on and throw your bag over your shoulder before making your way back to the door.

Cautiously you peek out, looking side to side for any guards. The floor is still empty so you sneak out, closing the door behind you. You walk the opposite way to the guard, towards the back door that leads to the garden, no one will be back there at this time save for the guards that do their rounds which you silently pray aren’t there. The fresh air hits your face beneath the hood, it’s starting to get cooler with the season change, leaves are beginning to fall off the trees. You clutch the straps of your bag and walk briskly towards the exit the servants use to get into town.

Before you can even reach for it, you hear footsteps approach, “Who goes there?”

You bow your head even lower, “Just one of the maids, clocking off from my shift, Sir,” you tag on.

“Where is your key?” He asks.

Fuck. You hadn’t thought about the door being locked. “Um,” you pat your cloak in a frantic search, “Oh no,” you sigh, slumping your shoulders, “I must of dropped it somewhere, would you mind?” You ask sheepishly.

The guard clicks his tongue, “Go and search for it,”

You ball your fists, “Please, I have a sick child at home I need to hurry,”

The guard moves forward, shoving into your shoulder hard, “Move aside,” he grumbles, fishing out his key to unlock the door. With it now swung open, you move to walk out when he suddenly grabs your wrist, “I expect something in return for my kindness,” he sneers, reaching forth for your hood.

You yank your hand out of his grasp before he can get any closer, you heart is pounding and you feel aghast at his predatory behaviour, “Of course,” you swallow, “I will seek you out tomorrow. Please let me get home to my sick child,” you beg, stepping out of reach.

He watches you, scanning your body up and down, “Fine,” he spits, “Make sure of it.”

You turn quickly and force yourself to walk normally down the pathway. When the door finally closes behind you, you let out a deep breath and look over your shoulder just to make sure no one is in sight. With no one around, you make a dash away from the castle letting the moon’s light guide you.

A week has only just passed when the first sign went up. Posted to a bulletin board of the local inn you were staying at, was a recent portrait of yours with big bold letters inquiring your capture. Bounty included if alive. You packed up as fast as you could and hitched the next ride you could out of town.

Money was already becoming an issue, you were not as smart as you could have been, refusing to compromise on your comfort. You wanted to search for a job of sorts but didn’t know where to start, however, you couldn’t even begin to think of that with a bounty on your head now. You needed to find a town so secluded that no news of the kingdom reached them, if one even existed.

“We’re here darlin’,” a guff voice broke.

You looked up from under your hood, many people were afoot and that made you nervous. More people could mean more eyes, or you could use it to your advantage to blend in. You took note of what they were wearing, all the ladies were modest in their clothes, which your attire mirrored. Maybe your hair? It was much longer and more maintained than the rest. Would cutting it help you blend in?

You thanked the man kindly and climbed down from his cart. He watched as you walked over to the side and reached into your bag for some coins.

He assessed you with his hand outstretched, “Woman like you should not be dressed so…darkly,” he landed on.

You frowned, “I do not need you opinion on such matters,”

He shrugged, “Just saying… you look like a hunter.”

You pursed your lips and looked down at your clothes once again. Head to toe you were dressed in all black, thinking that would aide in blending in against everyone else. Maybe you had leaned too far left in a fight to escape the from the castle’s gravitation towards colourful clothing.

You thank the man once more and bow your head, watching as he rides off. For a moment you thought it would be easier to turn yourself in, it was far too hard to blend in when you were not accustomed to what normal looked like. You walked towards the nearest inn, it was easy enough to find, located at the entrance of the town.

The check in lady greeted you cheerily, “Hello, how can I help you?”

“Just one room, please,” you murmur, pulling out more coins for payment— you would need to pawn off another piece of jewellery soon.

“One room, sure,” she repeats, “You look weary, long journey?” She inquires.

“Yes,” you reply curtly, wishing to end this interaction when suddenly a genius idea enters your mind. You clear your throat, “My apologises, I am just tired,” you back track.

She smiles, “That’s okay, here is your key,” she passes a singular room key to you over the counter.

You pause to take it, but before you fully grasp it you speak up again, “May I ask something?”

She perks up at your question, excited for the chance at further conversation as the inn is quite deserted at this afternoon hour, “Of course,”

“Where did you buy your clothes?” You ask.

She looks down at herself and then back at you, “Oh, I’m not sure this is something you would desire Miss,” she replies humbly.

The girl is around your age, maybe a little older you can’t pass up this opportunity, “I insist, I love the colour,”

She smiles sheepishly, “My mother made this garment for me, I know it’s not flashy, but she does her best,”

“May I commission her work? Maybe one she has already made?” You question.

The girl before you freezes in her place with eyes wide, “You would pay for this?”

You nod, “My clothes are getting worn, and I do not have the time to head into town between my travels. I will not be staying here long, two days at most,”

The girl looks skeptical of your generosity, you reach into your bag once more, “I will pay upfront if it is money you are unsure of—”

“Where is it that you’re from again?” She asks.

You freeze, “I did not mention it,”

She hums, “Far from home are you? A bad upbringing?”

Your shoulders slump beneath your cloak, “Of sorts,” you whisper.

There’s a beat before she responds, “I will come to your room in the evening, once my shift is over,”

You sigh, smiling beneath your hood. Wordlessly you place an extra couple coins for her generosity and take the room key before walking upstairs.

You spend the rest of the day in your room with the curtains drawn. The thought of this bounty makes you paranoid, you still look like a recognisable princess you can tell. Nothing has changed, this is not going at all like you planned. The change of clothes won’t be enough, you need to look like everyone else. You march into the bathroom and search through every drawer and cabinet until you find them.

Scissors.

A change of hair style should drastically change your look right? You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your mother always loved your long hair, you still remember the way she used to style it before bedtime. But she was no longer here and couldn’t help you now. You take the scissors in hand, and look into the mirror to guide your movements.

There’s a knock at your door just after tea time. Anxiously you stand and walk over, when you peek outside you see the girl from the check in with something in hand. Cautiously you open the door for her.

“Here you go— oh,” she pauses. Taking in your full appearance, “You look different,”

You look down at yourself, realising you’re not wearing your coat. The girl is completely unaware of your rising panic as she continues to speak, “Well, different than I thought I guess, seeing as I did not know what you looked like before this,”

Her rambling confuses you but you nod along, looking towards her arms which is holding your new attire. “Oh!” She remembers, outstretching her arms, “This is yours, I had to guess your measurements were similar to mine and found this old dress. It’s barely warn, and similar colour just a little bit darker—”

“It’s perfect,” you cut her off, gracefully taking it off her hands, “Thank you,”

She smiles, awkwardly dusting the side of her dress, “You’re welcome.” With nothing else to say, you bid each other goodnight before closing the door.

The next morning when you put on the attire you can’t help but smile in the bathroom mirror. It’s nothing compared to what you wore at home, no elaborate stitching, no beading, and no exotic colours. It’s perfect. As a test you brave a walk through the town without your cloak, it is foolish— a gamble you’re terrified of taking but you can’t move forward without knowing if this disguise will work.

People barely look at you on the way in, which is assuring. But as you walk in the town’s centre, the population becomes a lot more dense, people are everywhere as they walk to and from the markets. Realising this is a better test than any, you walk straight in the crowds and go for a stroll. The markets have lots to offer, most of it you’re not terribly interested in buying until you see a vendor selling hair pins.

At the sign of your approaching interest, he immediately stands to full attention, “Can I interest you in something, Miss?”

“Just browsing,” you reply, looking for a moment longer before landing on one, “How much is this one?”

The price he lists is just shy of the amount you’re holding, “Could I offer you a trade?” You inquire.

“Something of equal value, I’ll take,” he agrees.

“What about earrings?” You ask, reaching for your ears. You wouldn’t need these anymore anyway.

You place both within his open palm, he rolls them around with his grip before closing them within his hand, “Pleasure doing business.” he says, dropping the hairpin in your hands.

There’s a smile as you walk back to the inn, you were about to consider it a successful trip until you see something out of the corner of your eye. A group of men, dressed in noticeable black attire, leather affixed in certain places for extra padding and weapons hoisted on their sides. Hunters. Here. Holding a recognisable bounty poster. You’re frozen in place as you stare at them, people are busy walking past you but you barely notice them. News is travelling faster, it won’t be long until more hunters are on the chase, a sickening sense of dread washes over you.

Someone bumps past, muttering a short apologise but continuing on. You look around, the hunters hadn’t noticed you yet, so you pick up your pace, near sprinting back once you’re out of sight to the inn. You shove everything into your bag, packing up your minimal belongings and checking your small coin purse, funds are low but you still have some to get you into the next town by ride and a room.

You drape the cloak over your shoulders but leave the hood down. It has worked so far, you were hoping it would continue to do so. You’re barely looking as you skip down the steps, holding onto the railing as you go, when you reach the bottom something hard bashes into your shoulder causing you fall backwards onto the steps with a loud crash.

You cringe at the pain that shoots up your back at the hand landing, when you look up all pain melts into frozen fear. Leaning over you is a towering man, his armour doesn’t begin to add to how big he looks like it does on other hunters. He looks like what your imagination would conjure up during stories of fearsome hunters who are known for their brutality. The most noticeable feature is the mask he wears over his lower face, you can’t think of a reason why someone would wear something like that and it just adds to his overall intimidation.

Wordlessly he holds out his gloved hand towards you. You force yourself to take it with a shaky hand, and allow him to lift you without any restraint. You nod in thanks and go to take the last step.

“Far from home?” He rumbles deeply, you almost don’t catch it.

“Sorry?” You pardon.

He looks over his shoulder at you, “You are unfamiliar,”

You still your breathing, trying your best to remain neutral, “I don’t see how that is your business,”

He looks away, “You’re right.”

You watch as he walks upstairs towards the rooms. Without taking anymore chances you dart out of the inn, not pausing for anything. The last thing you hear as you leave is mutters about some sort of ghost.

You’re thankful you left when you did.

[daughterwifed]

ADA ADORE !

ft. di!leon s. kennedy x gn!reader x ada wong

tags. toxic relationship, divorce sorry idk how to tag this, smut mentions, age gap mention, character study..? oral happens a little, dub-con

note. HAIIII IO HAPPY EARLY BDAY! @girlfridged this is a year and many months overdue it’s been in my drafts for so long I wanted to write it so bad for ages but I couldnt n I thought I’d finally do it before I get busy w exams ILYSMMMMM I HOPE THIS IS WHAT U NEED ilysm and I just want u to have fun and be happy and I hope ada brings that to u 💔🤍 unedited + clunky n disjointed per usual .. io I accidentally made this more ab aeon I’m so sorry I will make it up to u LMFAKDKFK feedback n rbs always appreciated

It’s not working out.

It hasn’t been working out since they tied the knot. 

There’s no honeymoon phase when you marry a woman like Ada Wong. In fact, there is no phase at all. There were no rings and no ceremony and when they went to bed that night Leon realised they both ran cold—Two cold bodies in a bed is just a shared grave. 

They both work a lot so they’re married on vacation days, but Leon’s not around on Christmas, and Ada’s busy on New Years so they settle for birthdays. Easter is out of the question - Ada doesn’t have time to believe in trivial things like god and Leon still ducks like the devil anytime he sees a cross. 

They remember they’ve chosen each other between global collapse and political demise and the occasional personal trauma—AKA Leon’s birthday. Not hers. Never hers.

It’s the one day in the whole entire year they pretend the world doesn’t need saving. 

(In Ada’s case, ruining.) 

She gives him a pretty little present, fucks him like it’s a threat, and sometimes, only sometimes, Leon gets to fall asleep in the same timezone as her. 

Leon thought about getting a dog. Something warm, loyal, friendly, something to come home to. When he told her she teased him. And he let her—Of course he did, he would let her push him flat on his back in an active minefield. 

“You want me to be a dog, Leon?” She got on her knees and crawled towards him and it was really sexy, but he took his meds before they got in bed and any chance of a boner had been deemed impossible. 

“I just want you to come home,” he had let out by mistake, and then Ada dried up because she doesn’t really feel anything that isn’t lust or some cruel type of need to have him squashed under her thumb and him getting needy outside of the bedroom is her number one turn-off. 

As of how they’re doing right now? 

Ada’s current location is unknown. He sent a message three days ago. He wasn’t even sure if it was the correct number. 

Leon: Alive? 

She left him on read. Whatever. Pretty generous for Ada. Means she’s not causing any trouble. Maybe she’s just taking time away from him. He understands. Leon often needs space from himself. And somehow from her considering how little she is home. One day with Ada stretches on for an eternity, it wrings him out, hangs him up to dry. It’s like the whole entire world is put on pause because she said so. He can’t get away from himself and not from Ada either—he sees her in the mirror everyday because they have the same goddamn haircut. 

He goes to work. Sits on his chair purposely hard. Stares at the ceiling like he’s waiting for god to send a memo. 

To: l.kennedy@dsoperations.gov.usa

Subject: Leave her. Fix your marriage. Get a dog. 

Attachment: Miracle. 

Leon wishes he knew how to talk to her. Like, actually like, talk—Like not in his head, but with his mouth and from his heart. Open up about all those big, big feelings he keeps having. But he’s not stupid, he knows Ada would probably smile at him, and in that smile he would see the exact moment she would decide not to want him. Because she doesn’t do feelings or emotions or therapy or any of the sissy bullshit Leon has really gotten into in these past few years. 

“Good morning, Leon.” Hunnigan rarely says it first, only when he’s brooding.

Leon sighs deeply. He pretends he doesn’t see Helena roll her eyes in his peripheral. “Yeah…” He nods slowly—forlornly. “Good morning.” 

“What’s wrong with you today?” She asks flatly. “Will you let me know by lunch so I can file the appropriate forms?” 

Helena snorts. Leon sighs again. Deeper. Sadder. Like, please fawn over me, at least offer to make me a coffee I won’t drink and let me rest my head on your bosom while you do all this complicated big boy paperwork for me. 

“I’m having girl trouble, put that on my file if you want.” Leon sniffs, crossing his arms and wondering if his marriage would benefit from whatever him and Hunnigan have going on; they have been work-wife and work-husband for eleven years now. It could be the back and forth. Sarcasm. But no. His therapist says sarcasm is hiding, which to be completely honest is true, he is hiding. Always has been. 

They don’t know about Ada—Not really. They know of her. That she goes up like smoke. That he keeps her compact in his drawer. That she is probably still wanted for treason by the country he lives and dies for. That she killed Helena’s sister and all. First by proxy and then by hand. They certainly don’t know her and Leon are quote-unquote married. 

“Maybe she’s seeing someone else,” Helena offers unhelpfully. 

“Why the hell would you say that?” He shakes his head, pointing a finger at her. “You don’t even know who she is.”

“I’m statistically speaking - based on all of your dates,” she adds, also unhelpfully. 

“Mm,” Hunnigan hums in agreement, “how old is this one?”

“Older than me,” Leon says proudly, like it’s some sort of accomplishment—but it is, for a moment he really did forget about himself, all his morals, he fucked a twenty-one year old and everything. A mid-life crisis, but he’s all better now. 

“How old?” Helena sits up, interested. “Your age kind of old?“

“I’m not even forty, Helena.” Leon doesn’t look up from the floor, pouting at the scuff marks on his shoes.

“Fifty?”

“God, I wish, but no.” 

 “Sixty?” Hunnigan chimes in without looking away from her monitor. 

“No.”

“Is she as old as that lunch lady you flirt with?” Helena scoots her chair closer. 

“Hey! First of all, her name is Hazel, and she is not just the lunch lady, she’s the head and she rotates the menu by season, runs the whole thing…” He trails off. 

Silence. 

“…But no, not that old, Jesus.” Ada is a cougar not a fucking sabretooth. “She’s got a couple years on me, like forty-something I guess.” He doesn’t even know her fucking birthday. Some husband he is. 

“Is it serious?” 

Leon looks at Helena like she’s stupid. Like anything could ever be fully serious with Ada. Everything is a sick joke to her, but it’s not. It’s not a joke—this is his fucking life. His stupid, sad life. ”Kind of, yeah, I guess—For me it is.” 

“But not for her, huh?” Helena clicks her tongue, giving him a sympathetic look. 

An hour or so later when they’re all in a meeting, Leon is too busy wondering how they fit such a big table through such a small door, why he is destined for so much fucking pain, whether or not Helena and Hunnigan are playing footsie right under his nose. Maybe if Ada was a man-eater with teeth the size of his head he wouldn’t like her so much. Maybe if his dick was bigger she wouldn’t be so inclined to leave. Maybe if it was nicer—No…No. it couldn't be that. His dick is nice. Nicer than most. Neatly trimmed pubes, nice shape, nice length, tasteful curvature, he’s got some lovely gradient going on. Jesus Christ, this table is huge. Did they build the room around it? Is that a thing people can do? It couldn’t come in parts it’s literally fucking solid oak. Does it fold? Everything folds eventually. Helena shifts beside him—Is she making eyes at Hunnigan? Is she seriously…Can Hunnigan even see all the way over on the opposite side of this huge-ass table? 

“Agent Kennedy?”

Leon’s eyes shoot up, going from bigwig to bigwig until he finds the speaker. A senator of some kind with a tarmac grey suit. “Yes… Yes, sir?”

“Some input on the current strategy?” It’s not unkind, more wanting of guidance from someone who’s been in the game as long as Leon has.

“My dick is fine,” Leon says on autopilot. 

Everyone is looking at him. That pretty intern he got a coffee for stifles a laugh into her hand, Hunnigan is staring him down, Helena is trying not to smile. 

“Sorry, thought I was on mute.” 

“You’re…You’re not on call, Agent Kennedy.” 

“Right.” Leon nods. “Obviously. 

He looks back down at the table.

It’s still too big for the room.

Leon comes home late. Which is usual. So he guesses he’s coming home on time. He isn’t over how big the table is, he isn't over talking about his dick in front of presidential advisors, and he isn’t over Ada like he would really like to be. 

He aims to throw his jacket on the wooden coat she bought. Gothic. Curling arms, and a mahogany base. He misses and his jacket slumps to the ground like a wounded animal. 

She’s cheating on me. Helena is right. She’s with someone else. She left me on read so that means she’s not even doing fieldwork, she’s just ignoring me on purpose. 

Leon blinks at his reflection in the oval mirror Ada placed in the entrance hall. 

But she can’t be. Look at him. Look at him. Look at those eyes. Look at that nose. Don’t look at the chin. She’s not cheating. She’s just Ada. Sexy, career-driven, free, independent—Oh god. But what if she is? What if she is cheating on him? With some hunk like Chris. Not because Leon thinks Chris is hot, but maybe Ada thinks he is. 

And then he sees them.

Her heels kicked off in the corner. The ones she wears on date nights. The one she wears to see other men probably. Leon crouches down to study them, running a finger over the patent leather, flipping them upside down to see the weathered red bottoms. He has kissed these a thousand times.

“Are you talking to my shoes, Leon?” 

Leon’s heart thumps out of his chest. 

“You're home,” he breathes out, waiting for someone to step out from behind her, freshly showered, using his towel. Taller, stronger, bigger—

“I wanted to see you.” She’s not wearing any makeup and she looks her age and it’s so fucking sexy. 

“Are you cheating on me?” Leon blurts out. 

Ada smiles at him like What if I am? What will you do about it? You’d stay with me anyway, wouldn’t you? You pathetic excuse of a man. “What makes you think that?”

“You left me on read.”

“You asked me if I was alive, Leon.” 

“Yeah—Yeah, and you never said yes.”

“I read it.” 

“Still—“

Ada cuts in, “Why don’t you come to bed, babe, I was so lonely waiting up for you.” She leaves no room for argument so he follows her into the bedroom, he lets her take off his clothes and wash his face and kiss him on the head as she tucks him in.

“Why did you call me babe?” Leon mumbles as he tucks his face into her neck, breathing her in. 

“What’s wrong with babe?” Ada asks him, falsely tender, antiseptic affection. 

“I dunno…It’s, like, it reminds me of the pig.” 

She laughs. He wants to hear her do that again. Make a fool out of himself to make her smile or snort. “Fine, you’re my baby.” 

He settles down after that as Ada traces shapes into his skin with the points of her manicured nails. It would be nice if she wasn’t pressing so hard. “Too hard,” Leon complains, twisting in discomfort. 

“Lingchi, pressure massage,” Ada explains, “ancient technique.” 

He rolls over while she lingchis his back to Google it. 

Lingchi

Lingchi, usually translated "slow slicing" or "death by a thousand cuts", was a form of torture and execution used in China from roughly 900 until it was banned in 1905. It was also used in Vietnam and Korea.

Source: Wikipedia

Leon is still rubbing sleep out of his eyes when Ada says it. Buttering her toast casually. Red dress. Red lips. Red heels. “By the way, I’m sleeping with someone.”

Just like that. There’s no ‘we need to talk’ or ‘I’m leaving you’. Nope. Not at all. 

“I’m sorry?” He blinks. 

She doesn’t look up from her toast. Dipping the knife into a pot of strawberry jam he didn’t even know they had. “It’s just sex, Leon.”

“I thought you…I love you, Ada.” He blinks again. Maybe thrice. 

“I know you do, baby.” She smiles. “You're still my husband.”

“How could you—I don’t…I don’t understand, Ada.” 

She places the toast on the counter in front of him. “I have to go now, I don’t have time to talk about it today, baby.” She kisses his cheek. Grabs her bag. “I’m very busy, why don’t you tell your journal all about it?”

“I don’t have a—“

“Drive safe, baby!” Her heels click-clack as she leaves.

Leon sits in traffic that morning thinking about it. 

By the way, I’m sleeping with someone. 

It’s just sex, Leon.

You’re still my husband. 

It’s not raining, but the wipers are going off, and he flips off a man in the car next to him without thinking. 

How could she? How could she just say that? Who fucking does that? Ada would. Ada can. Ada does. 

He thinks about crashing his car into the lobby of the DSO. 

He zones out during a meeting. For the second time. Hunnigan gives him a look that says If you’re thinking about killing yourself, please do it after this meeting.

He eats lunch alone in the break room. He opens his phone six times in five minutes and there’s nothing. 

What does this guy even look like? What does he do—What could he do to get her attention? Ada’s attention. To get her to want him, fuck him, leave Leon on read for three days to be with him. What is it about him? Taller? Blonder? Younger? Sweeter? Stupider? No…There’s no one stupider than Leon. No one is more pathetic than Leon. It can’t be. 

He drives home, clammy, hands slipping off the wheel thinking about this man. Thinking about finding out who the fuck he is, finding his address, sizing him up and ultimately leaving when he realises Ada has found herself someone that isn’t shorter than her when she puts on heels. And Ada is always wearing heels. 

He steps inside, holding his breathing, for once he is hoping she isn’t home so he has time to pace, drink, contemplate and repeat.

But her shoes are kicked off in the same spot, and there’s an open bottle of wine on the countertop. The balcony door is open, Ada is leaning against the railing watching the city beneath them, the ballet of life, cars passing by, people rushing home from work, young girls going out for the night.

She doesn’t even look at him when she speaks, fixing the fallen shoulder of her silk robe. “I want you to meet someone.” Then she turns, bare-faced, beautiful, gazing at him over the rim of her wine glass. 

“What..?”

“Oh, Leon, don’t pout.” Ada sighs, placing her glass down beside the unused ashtray. 

“I’m not—“

“Come here, baby, come give me a kiss.” She points at her heart-shaped mouth and he stumbles closer like a zombie, pawing at her robe as she cups his cheeks to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good boy.” Ada smiles at him. That same smile she always has. “Tomorrow at seven, okay? Clear your schedule.”

And Leon does. He always does. He leaves work at four to get cucked at seven. 

Ada gives an address to the driver who keeps making eye contact with Leon in the rear view mirror. She keeps her hand on Leon’s thigh the entire time. She tells him how handsome he looks in that suit - his only suit - he rushed to dry clean this very morning. He looks the part of her husband. A very well-kept man on a very short leash. They don’t need rings because Leon is already wrapped around her finger. 

They pull up in front of this great, sprawling building, stone steps, bustling crowds, a sign that says something about an exhibition—Ada is walking too fast for him to read it properly, and she’s in fucking heels too. He catches up with her in the cool hush of the gallery lobby, thank god there’s air conditioning, he’s about to sweat right through this jacket. 

She looks effortless like always, he’s seen her naked and he still finds it hard to believe she even exists. Women are just something else. Ada has sexy legs, and painted toes, and she even has sexy fucking ankles—

“Come on, baby.” She leads him like a duckling, and it raises the question—

“What are we doing here?” Leon asks, clearing his throat, trying not to look at her ass in that high-necked, jewel-toned dress. Jesus. What if her boyfriend is an art dealer? What if he’s fucking loaded? What if this is all a trick? A ploy. A fucking joke. She’s trying to rope him into something bad.

“I told you, I want you to meet someone, Leon,” she answers simply. “Oh, look at that piece.” She waves her hand in the direction of a blank canvas. 

“Brilliant, really, I could never pull that off,” he mumbles, a deep pout settling on his face as he follows her past paint splattered canvases, statuettes, and a man who she humours for exactly fifty-nine seconds before she says:

“Leon, why don’t you tell this nice man how many times you came this morning?”

Leon doesn’t even fucking trip on a single word. “Four,” he says, loud and proud, but he’s more just loud than proud. This is really quite fucking humiliating and he’s thinking of throwing himself down that gorgeous spiral staircase as some act of artistic vengeance, become part of the exhibition, y’know? 

“There you are!” Ada smiles, and it’s the same sort of smile she gives Leon, but different. Like. Sweeter. Luring. Pure fucking Evil. Like I want to fatten you up and eat you. 

He scans the room for the suspect. Which fucking bastard is fucking his fucking wife? There’s a curator on one side, but he’s much too old for Ada. The few in the turtlenecks—Never. Velvet suit? Moustache? Oh, it’s got to be that one. Baby blues, wheatish hair, hands in his pockets like he doesn’t quite fit in. That’s him. Pft. Leon could take him easy—Oh, they’re not even walking in his direction—

“Ada!” 

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. Oh no. No. This is so much worse. He can’t beat up a little kid. You’re like shorter than both of them, she leans down to kiss both your cheeks, and you're smiling at her like she has the key to your heart—She probably does, she has the key to his cock cage. 

(Not that he actually has one. Leon hasn’t gone that far yet, he likes to believe he has standards.) 

“Leon,” she beckons him closer with a finger, introduces the two of you.

You put out your hand for him to shake, clearly a little nervous as you tell him, “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

“Wish I could say the same,” he mutters, loosely taking your hand, making sure to wipe it on his trousers when you let go of him. He can’t beat you up, but he sure as hell can be petty.

“Leon.” Ada laughs like a mother does when she’s trying to play down her child’s petulance. “Be nice, baby.” 

She’s insane. She has got to be crazy if she thinks Leon is going to put up with this. She’s talking to you all nice like We have dinner soon, but I just had to come and see your art. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I really am. You’re so much more accomplished than my loser husband. My snooty little angel, look at your beautifully useless art, my tactically skilled, special agent husband could never be as talented as you. Oh no, he could never. And she thinks he’s going to stay? Yeah right. Never. 

Leon has standards. He does. He’s going to leave right now, he’s going to block her number, put her minimal shit in a bag, and toss it over the balcony. He’s going to hand her over to the President on a silver platter. He’s going to leave a bad review on your art. Is there a website for that? There’s gotta be. There’s a website for everything now. Ugh—Ugh. You’re not even anything special. Not the kind of beauty that offends women or intimidates men, but to Leon it does both. 

“The reservation is soon, we should head over,” Ada says, looping her arm with yours and waiting for Leon to follow.

He does follow. Glaring at your back. A threesome has been on his bucket list for years, sure, but not like this. It was meant to be sexy. Not cheating. 

Leon fumes silently all the way over to the restaurant, while the waiter leads the three of you to the cushioned booth at the back, when Ada slips into the booth beside you, when your foot knocks his under the table, when the waiter hands over the menus. 

The two of you are talking, it sounds like noise to him, like he’s underwater. You keep looking at him with these great, big eyes. Like you're waiting for him to say something. Or maybe you’re testing him. Maybe you want him to leave. He wants you to leave. 

Ada is too sneaky. She’s like a cat, they're nifty little things—Ada is twice as sly. She’s cunning. Like a fox. Yeah. That sounds right. A fox. A beautiful, red fairytale fox that talks its way out of dirty work. Leon is some stupid, hysterical damsel that needs a kiss to snap out of it. And you’re a wretched little toad and you’re going to get what’s coming for you, for being a part of this, for being her side piece, for making her smile like that. 

“So,” Leon finally cuts into the conversation you’ve been having without him for a good twenty minutes, “when were going to tell me you had a partner, Ada.”

She scoffs at him lightly, a smile playing on her red lips. “I don’t do boyfriends or girlfriends, Leon, I’m forty.” 

“What does that even—“

“It’s just sex, Leon, I told you that before, I wish you would listen.” 

It’s always just sex with Ada. All he gets is sex. All you get is sex. Maybe the two of you aren't so different. Maybe you’re both little mice and Ada is going to eat you both up. 

“Leon is so sentimental,” Ada sighs, shaking her head like he’s such a hassle. 

You smile at him awkwardly. He just stares. Ada takes her fork, holding it up so the tines bar his face like she’s putting him in public timeout, in jail. “He’s just so emotional, I mean, really, you know how men get.”

You shift in your seat, unsticking your thighs from the leather booth. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You smile at him again, nervous, fraying, like he isn’t what you expected—It’s Ada. It’s all Ada she probably marketed this as some fucking chic ménage á trois. 

Leon just sits there like he’s just been hit by a train and is trying to be casual about it. Of course she did. Of course she did and that’s why he goes on a second date with you and her. That’s why he drives the two of you home a week later. His wife and the person she’s fucking. 

This week has been tense. Dinner was tense. This drive is tense. You clear your throat in the back seat. “Um…Honestly, you could drop me a couple blocks away from home, it’s actually right down there—“

“No, no, sweetheart,” Ada gasps, like a really fake gasp, “we couldn’t do that to you, it’s so dark out.”

“It’s fine,” you insist, he watches you through the rear view mirror, how your hands twitch in your lap, the way you lick your dry lips, “I just don’t want to be intruding on anything.”

“You’re not intruding, sweetheart.” 

Yes you are. 

“It’s just that…Mommy and daddy are fighting, honey.” Ada sighs a long-suffering sigh.

Impressively, Leon doesn’t swerve off the road, but the car does jerk and sputter. You look like you’re about to cry, or jump out of the moving vehicle, or like you’ve been told Santa isn’t real, or that he’s in jail for indecent exposure. 

“Ada…” Leon mumbles, shaking his head at her, “don’t.” 

“Why, Leon?” She huffs like this is it not some psychosexual hostage situation. “Children should know when their mommies and daddies aren't doing well, communication is very healthy.” It’s all a game to her. She’s so callous and insincere and awful and frighteningly beautiful. 

“Stop it, Ada.” He white-knuckles the steering wheel, does a red light, thinks about taking both of you down with him.

“Oh my god,” you mumble from the back, sinking into your seat like you want to disappear. Poor kid. You don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into. 

“Just take us home now, Leon,” Ada says, sniffing dramatically as she gazes out of the window. 

So he drives. Pedal to the metal. Reverse parks in record time. Kills the engine. Ada’s already out the door, leaving behind a cloud of perfume, heels clicking on the concrete, you’re following like a ghost, footsteps barely audible. 

“Shoes off,” Ada hums as she floats into the apartment she has never once called home. 

You won’t meet his eye. Not even Ada’s. Just standing there all small. Breakable. Looking at the ground—It’s not like there’s much to take in. Underfurnished. Empty glasses litter every flat surface. Leon’s leather jacket is draped over the sofa. 

“You two are the same,” she laughs, it echoes down the hall as she leaves a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom, and look at you two. So easily led. Hansel and fucking Gretel over here.  “So dramatic, so sentimental, so hysterical—I mean at least you’re quiet about it, sweetheart, Leon throws a tantrum,” she muses as she edges her panties off her ankles. “God, don’t just stand there, help each other out.” 

Leon makes the first move. He feels bad. Doesn’t know if he wants this, if he wants you, but he does it ‘cause she said so. You’re nervous, heart like a hummingbird in your chest, he feels it when he rather unfeelingly unbuttons your shirt. He nudges you onto the bed gently, you have nice hips, nice legs, nothing about you is wrong—It’s just him that’s wrong. What he’s gotten himself into. 

“You need help down there, Leon?” Ada tilts her head to the side as he spreads your thighs, leant on her elbow, busy mouthing at your neck, kissing your jaw, tweaking your nipple every few seconds like it’s a fidget toy. 

“I know my way around, thanks” he mumbles, and if there’s one thing he can focus on it’s eating pussy. He likes the way it tastes, the way it smells, how soft it is on his tongue. Pussy would never hurt him. 

You arch when he kisses your clit, you whine when he pushes a second finger in, when his lips close around your clit and he sucks. You don’t scroll through your phone waiting to be impressed like Ada would. 

He wipes his mouth when you cum, sitting up, breathless. “You happy now?” 

“Oh, Leon, why don’t you come here, handsome?” Ada pats the space between you and her. He doesn’t move. Not this time. She purses her lips. “Leon has such a dangerous job,” she starts.

You blink the fog from your mind, turning to face her, spine straightening like every hair on your body stands to attention when she speaks. Even if you don’t want it to you—She’s magnetic. 

“He’s a hero, really, he does so much to keep everyone safe—He’s not allowed to talk about it, but he does so much for all of us.” Ada trails a hand down the front of his jeans, cupping his dick. “I’m just so glad this is all in one piece.” 

“Are you really, Ada?” He asks, staring at her. 

“Yes, Leon, I am.” She smiles, practiced. 

“I think we should take a break, Ada,” he says, dick still rock fucking hard.

“I really…I really think I should go,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes—He respects it. You got to cum, and now you’re leaving. “I really appreciate the invite—“

“Well, Leon.” Ada dusts herself off, still smiling. “If that’s what you think is right.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Hm.” She nods, then she looks to you, patting your head, smiling, cooing so you can’t get out of her fucking trap. “I get to keep you, and daddy gets to keep the office and the printer.”

You scratch the back of your neck. “…I mean okay—I didn’t really, I mean…Okay.” 

“Then I guess I’ll print the fucking papers,” Leon confirms, and it’s over like that. He sees his grief over to the door. Doesn’t kiss her goodnight. Just passes her onto you. 

[maybankslover]

saw it coming- drew starkey

drew starkey x ex!girlfriend

drew starkey x singer!reader

warnings: kinda angst, mentions of infidelity but it doesn't actually happen, drew not being a good partner with someone else. fluff. this is all fiction.

summary: she knew she wasn't the one for him, they all saw it coming.

she knew she had known for years she wasn't the one he'd marry. maybe it was because she tries so hard to be cool, to fit in his life and family, to get along with his mom even when they both know the older woman didn't really like her.

maybe she should've been less cool, less chill maybe if she had drawn the line. if she had asked to be displayed in public not as a company, not as someone he wouldn't hug for a picture but exposed for once and for all as his girlfriend. if she asked him to not keep everyone guessing.

it was funny at the start being "secretive" and all, it was funny to read the theories but it wasn't funny anymore and the lamp was being turned off.she was quite young when they started dating, freshly twenty and he was already pushing into his late twenties.

maybe she should've known, there were all so many songs about it but he was so tall and handsome as hell. everyone and their mother would've ignored the age difference too.

almost three and a half years together when she started to ask for more.

"so i was thinking about posting this picture, can i?" she showed him a picture that showed her resting against his chest with a small bouquet of flowers in hand.

"isn't it too intimate to show? like I love it but for us." he replied and she nodded.

"no yeah you're right." he hummed and kissed her cheek. she didn't include anything about him in that photodump.

"i have a netflix event next week, want you to come with me." she watched him as he prepared to leave her house. "you free on friday?"

"is there a dress code?" he laughed.

"as if you'll ever follow them baby." she smiled at him and welcomed the kiss he pressed to her lips.

when friday came along she already knew the drill.

"what's up?" one of his cast mates hugged her. "it's been a long time since i last saw you."

"finished filming last month." the one's beside her nodded as they remembered what drew had told them.

"heard it's quite a big project." she felt so comfortable with them, they included her in pictures and gatherings.

"it's pretty cool. one of the things i've enjoyed the most to make if i'm being honest." the conversation didn't last long as the cast was called to go on stage.

the pictures the next day looked the same as always, his hands inside his pockets never touching her waist, shoulders or any part of her body.

"why can't you just hug me for a picture? everyone already knows we're together." she had every right to be as angry as she was right now.

"don't want anyone going on and about on our relationship." he shrugged his shoulders, they both knew that was a lie.

"everyone knows about us, everyone talks about us." she ironically laughed. "are you ashamed of me?"

"god no baby no." he rushed to her side and placed his hands on her cheeks. "i love you alright?"

"i love you too but sometimes you make me feel awful drew." he sighed.

"i'm sorry for that but i'm not ashamed of you." she believed the lie he told her.

he did love her in his own weird way but she sometimes made him feel embarrassed of how she acted in public.

maybe it was on his thirty-first birthday when he realised, without actually letting the thought come through, it was probably time to start settling down as if having a girlfriend for the past three years wasn't serious enough. she didn't feel the shift on him.

she should've.

she saw it coming but not in the way it unfolded. schedules, as usual, got busy this time of the year, she was doing promo and he was filming another movie and a music video.

that music video was the shift, not for her but for him. when he met the singer he would be working with it was like a light ignited inside him that said 'this is the one'.

she was so pretty, nice and genuine. there wasn't a show around her when the cameras weren't on, down to earth and extremely similar to him.

both born and raised in a big family, tons of siblings and extended family. she had just received her degree as a kinder-garden teacher when her career blew up.

that was the one for him, he knew it. such a particular thing doesn't really has an explanation on how he felt.

and she hadn't said anything because she knew he had a girlfriend of some kind but she felt it in her gut. he was the one for her too.

"hope to catch up sometime." she said, giving him a hug. "thank you for being part of this."

"it was a pleasure to work with you. maybe we'll coincide in the same city." he smiled back before they said their goodbyes.

he went back to his apartment in los angeles with a clear thought in his head. it was moment to end his three year long relationship, the girl he had been stringing along all this time and he knew he was an awful person for not releasing her sooner but she was never the one for him.

for the plans of a family he wanted to have someday. she wasn't the one he saw as the mother of his kids.

so when two days after she came back from the promo of her movie three weeks from the last time they had seen each other, he sat her down.

"what i'm going to say isn't easy and i don't expect you to be alright with it but this is how i've been feeling for a while now, this isn't working for me anymore." he sighed as he looked her eyes lose the sparkle they'd whenever she looked at him.

"what do you mean?" it was obvious what he meant.

"i want us to break up. this isn't what i want for myself anymore." he knew the conversation wouldn't end in her agreeing just because even if he wanted it to be that way.

"is there someone else or what happened in the past three weeks?" he denied with his head.

"there isn't anyone else. it's about me and what i want for my future." she scoffed.

"three years drew. three and now you realise that i'm not the future you want?" she stood up. "you can actually go fuck yourself."

"hey i'm not being mean to you." but he was being mean to her. "i know it's fucked up but it's what i feel and i'm sorry i'm hurting you because i love you even if this isn't what i want anymore."

“drew shut up.” her voice raised a bit.

he tried to say something else but she didn’t let him.

"don’t say my name. i j-just go, please leave." he sighed but followed her orders.

“I’m sorry.” he wasn’t.

they met a week later at her place to give eachother their things back.

"was there someone else?" she sighed. "at any point, was there someone else?"

"no, there wasn't. i can promise you there wasn't." at least he was honest in what he was telling her.

five months later she was still mourning what they had been. what they could've been if she hadn't been so permissive from the very start.

five months later he was having dinner with the singer from that music video, he had taken his time before going out again. didn't want to rush it, to fuck it up by starting something with someone else fresh out of his relationship.

they were playing some game that ended with them asking random questions and losing the train of how it had started.

"so old man" it made drew laugh. "you were in a relationship last time we saw each other. six months ago?"

"yeah."

"what happened?" it was normal for her to be curious, she was interested in him but wasn't interested to get herself into a threeway kind of mess.

"wasn't what i wanted for me anymore, couldn't see the future i want with her." he sighed. "she's a great woman but not the one i wanted to have a family with." he looked at his glass of wine.

"I get it." his sight shifted towards her this time. "ended my last relationship for the same reason."

"how long ago?"

"a year, we were together for two and a half i think." he nodded signaling for her to continue. "realised a bit late that he didn't really had a brain in his head and only wanted me for the ibiza nights i could get him into" her shoulders bump up for a second. "so i decided i won't ruin my life with some lowlife who would in the long run."

"different goals" he said and she agreed.

"already have my career, my success and i want more in my private life someday too, he wasn't the one to create that with."

they locked eyes without saying anything, there was like a secret moment of understatement there weren't any words to be said. their night continued, laughing and chattering as if they had known each other their whole lives. 

“so drew listen i had a great time but i don’t want to dive into anything if you aren’t over your last girl.” they stood on the front door of her house. “because i’ve been there, hung over a guy that used me to get over someone else.” 

“I get it and you don’t have to trust me because you don’t really know me but i know i’m over her.” she gave him a small smile. “I would like to keep seeing you if that’s alright with you.”

“yeah i’m alright with that.” he didn’t expect the kiss on the cheek she gave him, lingering there for a moment. “ ‘night starkey.”

“goodnight sweetheart.” he walked back towards his truck. “see you soon.”

many coffee dates in deserted places. late night drives by the beach, secret kisses in the privacy of her home and oh if it didn’t feel like love. 

‘he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown’ taylor swift’s lyrics as the background of their lazy sunday morning. drew still in bed while she stood in his kitchen making breakfast wearing the shirt he discarded on the floor when they came back from dinner last night. 

“hey pretty girl.” a sleepy smile on his face as he saw her walk inside the bedroom. 

“the toasts are a bit burned.” he chuckled. “but the rest it’s alright, I think.”

they ate in silence, the birds could be heard outside the window.

“I’m going home next friday for my mom’s birthday.” drew said placing his plate on the bedside table. 

“are you gonna drive or you’ll be taking a flight?” she didn’t think much about it they’ve been dating for almost five months only and they didn’t met the other one’s friends yet. 

“I’m gonna drive but i wanted to ask you something.” she gave him a nod. “I want you to come with me, only if you want of course.”

“isn’t really a question.” she smiled at his soft laugh. “you want me to meet your family? like for real?”

“yeah for real.” he smiled back. “I want them to meet you.” 

“I want to meet them too.”

right there they knew what it was, love, true love. 

the days before the upcoming trip she wrote three whole songs. 

“do you think i’m going too fast?” she asked her best friend on the phone. 

“nah honey i think he loves you so good it was inevitable for you to fall in love so quickly.” vic saw the glimmer in her friend’s eyes, the smile in the pictures she sent her. the look in his eyes when he looked at her in some silly video.

she was nervous to meet his family, one of his sisters was still close with his ex-girlfriend, what if they didn’t like her and they missed the girl from before?

back in new york city a brunette received a message which content broke her heart. from his younger sister.

text 

b ‘i wanted to tell you before you found out via instagram or somewhere else.”

b ‘he brought a girl home. It’s pretty serious, i’m sorry’

he took a girl home when he said he preferred to spend time alone with his family most of the times he went back home, an excuse to not bring her along. now she knew what she should’ve realised all those years back, she didn’t know how to get clean even after more than ten months later. 

his family adored her, their interaction seemed straight out of a christmas movie. 

“I hadn’t seen him so happy in ages.” his mom said in a moment they were left alone right before everyone would say their good night to go to bed. “thank you, he’s my boy again.”

“you’ve done an amazing job with drew, i’ve never had a boyfriend as amazing as he is.” the older woman involved her in a tight hug. 

“he’s never had a girlfriend as genuine as you.” it felt so real, the possibility of a future together. 

two weeks later when her family found out she had gone to north carolina to meet his family, they insisted of having a reunion to meet him. the man on the screen who was making her come back straight home to him.

“I’ve never seen him like this.” his friend madelyn said, the group of outer banks castmates watched as the couple who had reached their year anniversary, they had met her a small number of times but she had grown in all of them. 

“It’s like a light is around him everytime you see him with her.” jd added. “I’m happy for him.” 

they had managed to keep it as lowkey as possible, people were already talking about them running in the same circles but nothing about them actually being together had come out. 

“I want to play you something. I’m writing the new album.”  her music room was a big representation of who she was. the things adorning the walls, the little details on her guitars.

he loved everything about her. so he sat down on the floor, right in front of her. 

‘you are everything to me and I, I would die for you’ 

she tilted her face up a flicker of light on her cheeks. 

‘I'd give up all I have, in exchange for who I love more than anything’ 

he was trying so hard to not let a tear fall.

‘how could I never let you know? I would die for you’ 

and he failed terribly.

“Baby?” she said softly in the same way she always talked to him. 

“I love you so fucking much.” she laughed at his words. 

“I love you so fucking much more.” he pressed a firm kiss to her lips. 

maybe he had been a shitty boyfriend to someone else but she couldn’t say the same. he was the best man she had been with, he felt as a forever kind of love. 

“I want to stop hiding.” she didn’t expect him to say those words. “just want to hold your hand in public and all that romantic shit people do.” 

“I’d like that.” a fight of kisses unfolded in the instruments filled room. 

but a walk wasn’t their ‘hard lunch’ it was him posting a photo dump, the first one of them both on the backstage of his new movie. 

drewstarkey 

liked by ynln, madelyncline, danielgraig and 2.236.002 more

drewstarkey ‘life lately. pretty girl spotted’

comments have been restricted 

ynln ‘love you pretty boy’

shit blew up on twitter real fast and a girl who he had now forgotten still wondered what it was that she was missing, what the beloved singer had for him to choose her. 

“it doesn’t matter anymore, we told you for ages he didn’t love you in the same way.” one of her friends said and she knew he was right, it had only taken him a year and a half to post his new girl. 

It only took him two years to marry her. It’s true when they say a man always knows, he knew from the start she was the one for him and the forgotten girl knew from the start she was never the one. 

drewstarkey & ynln 

song beauty and the beast by celine dion and peabo bryson

liked by sabrinacarpenter, brookestarkey, taylor swift and 4.569.023 more

drewstarkey & ynln something happened… two and a half from our very first day with the very first movie we ever watched.

tale as old as time

comments have been restricted. 

If you see it coming baby, just run. It’ll never be you.

It’ll be the one who fits he’ll actually love, don’t settle for someone who won’t settle for you.

the singer and the actor had found eachother, fate working in their favor even when they felt bad karma would be coming for them it never did.

fate and soulmates can't be stopped from finding the other.

please if you liked it reblog! it helps me a lot

taglist: @droppedyourhnd @congratsloserr @rafesbabygirlx @gillybear17 @theoraekenslover @silkylovey @frankoceanluvr11 @ethanthequeefqueen

[fatuismooches]

hello :D

could I request rosehip tea with Dottore? 💙

- Night anon

rosehip tea; how romantic are they? how do they show affection?

Though Dottore’s way of observing the world may be scorned by others, every day he continues to fascinate you. After all, the segments were always the easiest proof to show how much he’s changed for you. Once a grumpy, foolish student who rolled his eyes at the prospects of romance (although he did have his own unconventional ways at the time), he had now certainly become more mature and knowledgeable about the whole thing. After all, as a scholar, it was necessary to observe, adapt, and then take action.

Still, despite his growth in the relationship department, Prime Dottore’s way of romance is… unique, but in a good way.

Zandik’s always been skilled at gift-giving, but with things that seemed to have little to no monetary value. He doesn’t want to admit it, but when he was in the Akademiya, he used to rack his brain on ways to impress you. Sure, you’d always look at him with sparkly eyes and praise him when he spoke for periods of time, but it wasn’t enough for him. His younger self had fallen hard for you, and instead of using his hands to break a dozen pens, he put them to work crafting little knick-knacks for you. Imagine that - instead of getting his hands calloused by working with machines, now he’s pouring energy into carefully arranging a stupid little gift. And oh, how it was worth it. The scholar would have never guessed that sacrificing his precious research time for something like this could feel so nice.

“Awww, Zandik! Did you make this for me? Ah, this must have taken ages! And how did you know this would be something I would like? Ooooh, look at this part!”

“It’s nothing noteworthy,” he cleared his throat and tried to ignore how attentive you were. Somehow, you had managed to always see him.

Of course, his habit had followed him into his later years, although his gifts were now far more impressive (and he no longer sounded like that around you).

You tell him he’s never gifted you flowers like any other lover would. He thinks it’s a rather boring gift, but gives in anyway. The only thing is that instead of simply handing you a bouquet like a regular person, you wake up to a few flower pots, each with a new breed of flower that you’re sure you haven’t seen before, along with a note asking you to select which you prefer. He then has Sigma mass cultivate them in the lab’s greenhouse so that whenever you want flowers, you can simply go and pick his labor of love. Truly so romantic and efficient, it makes you giggle.

You asked him if you could have a pet. He gives you some kind of never-before-seen creature that he conjured up in his lab, is definitely not a regular pet, probably feral, maybe has some secret powers (the last part is purely your theory, to which the Harbinger says is completely wrong). Now, one may ask, how is this romantic if he hates the damn thing and would rather throw it out, clicking his tongue whenever you fawn over it? But there is the answer - he’ll put himself at a disadvantage if it means making you this happy, and to you, that’s romantic.

Dottore’s gifts usually manage to surprise you because they come out of nowhere. You can mention something passively once, forget about it, and one day it appears in front of you. It can be hard to predict him, as oftentimes he seems to think your ideal gifts have no real value, but then he goes and makes it for you anyway. Questioning the scholar will just lead to him casually saying it was a side project in his free time.

Although Dottore seems to have a harsh exterior, he is not averse to praise, as many may think. He uses it sparingly, but that just means that when he praises you, he truly means it, and you are no exception.

“Excellent work. I see that you haven’t dulled in the slightest… not with your mind or smart mouth.”

“You look lovely. Were it up to me, I’d be the only person you could look like that in front of.”

But though praises fall from his lips with ease, when it comes to comforting you, he’s not as flawless. He hesitates and pauses, genuinely not wanting to upset you further, knowing he is a less-than-gentle man, but Zandik tries for you.

“I can see very well that you are trying every day. But you should know that you do not need to do so in front of me… Yes, I mean that. If you think I would ever scorn you of all people, then there must be a failure on my end. Now, come here.”

“Stay here, rest, and tell me if you need anything. No, there is no reason to be ashamed. I am your partner, and I will make sure you are taken care of.”

Something about Dottore is that he doesn’t see his own words and gestures as romantic. He merely sees it as the way to properly treat you. It is nothing special or deserving of any fancy title. Romantic? If you see it that way, he won’t stop you, but he doesn’t really care about it. If anything, how “romantic” he is, is copied from how you used to treat him back at the Akademiya. He is reciprocating the words you once soothed him with, in his own way.

Though his title was given to him ironically, after hundreds of years pursuing his goals, Dottore has gained a great amount of genuine medical knowledge. And with that information, you already know that he’s somehow going to know exactly what’s wrong with you when you’re not feeling your best. This is one thing he always does for you - look out for your health. Even when you two don’t spend much time together, he will suddenly appear, diagnose you, and properly give you treatment before disappearing again (and visiting from time to time). Although it may not seem like much, these little acts of service make it so you don’t push yourself past the brink, and you have someone who’ll actually listen to your symptoms. For someone as busy as the Harbinger, keeping such a watchful eye on you is impressive, and even romantic.

“Ugh… how did you know this would happen?”

“You haven’t been as excited to bother any of us as of late. I’ve also noticed you’ve been retiring to bed earlier than usual, and yet your energy hasn’t returned. Your eyes are far off. I had your favorite meal prepared, and you didn’t finish it. And for once, you’re wincing at the bickering of the segments instead of laughing.”

“And now my next question is, how do you know all of that…?”

“You can theorize about that after you’re better.”

To be more specific, his traits as a scholar naturally bleed into the relationship. Being observant of you is his way of showing affection. Dottore loves watching you. He loves watching every part of you. He loves predicting the way you’d change when something about something that makes you happy or grumpy, and silently chuckling when he gets it right. In fact, when he wants to tease you, he calls you out on it.

His way of affection is learning everything about you, and his end goal is finally doing so, but he knows that this experiment would never end because you always continue to fascinate and excite him. He can observe you for another four hundred years and compile all of those records in detail, and still find the urge to watch you. It’s one of the reasons why even though you two may not always have much time together, he is never bored. You find it romantic and embarrassing.

“You know, if you’re going to stare at me that much, you might as well come over here and show me what you like so much.”

“Oh? Since you’re asking me so kindly, I may as well take you up on your offer. After all, there are only certain things I can see on you if I touch you.”

Dottore doesn’t shy away from your affections. He was especially touch-starved back in the Akademiya, but now he’s much more in control of himself around you. He’ll hum in contentment when you hug him and run your hands under his shirt. He’ll make a noise of appreciation when you pepper him with kisses after a long day. Naturally, he’ll do the same to you. His sinful hands are the best at rubbing your shoulders when you’re tired, and gentle when taking your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Does that feel good?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you want me to continue?”

“Mhm…”

“Use your words.”

“Hmph… yes, please. Your hands are so warm.” It’s an odd reality - his body was once as cold as his heart, but now it seemed that both were thawing.

It took a long time to get to this point, but now that you two are here, there’s no going back. Perhaps he’s not the picture-perfect romantic man, but he’s something better.

He’s Zandik, and that’s all you want.

[opheliann-darling]

Hi, can I request a yandere gojo x insecure and submissive reader?

You could make the reader have a past that affects his adult behavior. Like a dysfunctional family or a toxic couple and bad friends, well I request this because I want to know if yandere gojo takes advantage of the reader's traumas

Well that's all friends (⁠⌐⁠■⁠-⁠■⁠)

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐰.

Yandere Satoru Gojo x gn!reader.

TWs: Emotional manipulation, mention of past abuse.

enjoy.

His hand was warm— warm not in heat, but in a sense you've been deprived of for a long time that you don't remember how it looked or how it felt. It seems strange: the way his fingers intertwined with yours in a tight yet soft grasp, the way his smile curved in a too kind twist, and how that glint in his eyes was of any color but red, even if you said or did something wrong.

Toru is nice, he really is, or you think so, a nice person doesn't shout at you.

“Whatcha thinkin’of, Babe?” asked he, ever so sweetly.

You immediately looked at him and your eyes landed on his: when ocean bleu meets cyan sky, deep and gentle, yet where something beyond is veiled.

You, being the swallower of a pleased reply rather than an eater of understanding :” Just stuff…”

He smiled more.

“You look like you remembered something”

Maybe you did. Most people would tell you that it's better to be happy in the present and never look back at the past; but if ever they were in your shoes, wouldn't they feel a little restless when life smiled at them after so many cruel days? Back then, you built walls and stitched masks across your face, zipped up your lips when your ex yelled and held back a dam of tears when once your best friend laughed off your fears, branding you as too sensitive for reality.

Speaking first was never a skill you mastered, nor dragging out what was in your mind to words.

“Was it something bad?” he asked gently. “Something that still hurts?”

Is it showing? can Toru see it already? then there's no need to keep it hidden.

You nod, barely, but he catches it.

His hand found yours in silence, doesn't ask, doesn't demand an explanation, doesn't interrogate, just traces around your knuckles like a serpent to a rose— you don't think of anything except the comfort of being seen, understood, loved if you dare say.

“Y'know I love you, I'd never hurt you like they did”

Something burst in the middle of your chest, was it warmth or a slow pacing anxiety? how does warmth feel like anymore?

“I'm not them, you don't have to get so worked up around me, don't you trust me?” the question spilled in a hurt tone. he's the one who ever bothered to shower you in affection and you're hurting him…

“I do trust you! I swear” you quickly answered, eager to soothe his doubt.

“I know, but show me.”

a little silence sits in the middle, before he fills it again “I know it's been hard for you, but i mean it when I say I'd never hurt you. you mean so much to me babe, and I can't afford to lose you of all people — you listen”

a smile forces itself on your lips: you have use of you!

“Really?” you didn't believe it, is this how a healthy love sounds like?

“Yes.” His smile deepened even further “You don't say hurtful things, you make me happy”

You giggled, this is too good to be true.

“Only if you'd be more honest with me. I don't like it when you hide things from me. we're together remember? we're up together and we're down together”

“I promise you” you meekly said.

“Atta babe”.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

almostlove!au headcanons ...with sexhotline!reader and goldenboy!chris

fluff, light angst, smut, mentions of masturbation, fantasies, anonymous relationship

ib: the ever so lovely headcanons by @kiemiu !!!

word count - 1k

goldenboy!chris who uploads photos to instagram with songs he told daisy about, in the hope that somehow, some way, she’ll see them and know.

sexhotline!reader who calls him after midnight, when her shift ends and her voice is hoarse. “god, my throat is killing me,” she murmurs, wrecked and sleepy. he groans when he hears it. not because she means it sexually—but because she doesn’t.

goldenboy!chris who used to hate summer till she started called him sun, now he wakes up excited to see the sun rise and set.

sexhotline!reader who talks to sun like he’s real. like he’s more than a voice. “you’d laugh at me today. i tripped over my charger and fell face first into the laundry.” she knows that sun would probably laugh, but chris would also kiss her forehead after. pick her up gently and make sure she didn’t bruise.

goldenboy!chris who sends her long audio messages while he’s cooking, cleaning his room, brushing his teeth. just mundane sounds, sweet and soft and domestic, because he wants to feel like she lives there too.

sexhotline!reader who starts leaving him goodnight messages because she knows sun struggles to fall asleep. ‘brush your teeth. stop thinking so much. the world can wait ‘til morning.” daisy’s voice is quiet, like she’s whispering under the covers beside him.

goldenboy!chris who tells daisy he can tell when she’s tired. daisy just laughs, says to him that she fakes orgasms for a living. chris tells daisy she doesn’t have to be fake with him. that he doesn’t ever want her to be.

sexhotline!reader who once said, quietly: “i think i’d sleep better if you were here.” he hasn't been the same since.

goldenboy!chris who doesn’t care how many people have heard her voice. he says “they don’t get the real thing”. “neither do you”, daisy tells him. “but I want to” he tells her.

sexhotline!reader who laughs so sweetly into the phone that it makes chris blush. “you’re such a dork,” she giggles, and he will play it back five times just to hear the way her smile curls around her words.

goldenboy!chris who aches when she takes too long to reply. refreshes his messages like it’s a lifeline. when she finally does respond, he rereads the whole thing three times before replying. wants to get it right.

sexhotline!reader who giggles when he asks what she’s wearing. “sun. i just took off my bra. it’s sitting on the heater.” daisy says it so casually. he nearly drops his phone.

goldenboy!chris who holds the phone like it’s her hand. runs his thumb across the screen while she talks, eyes closed, swearing he can feel her if he listens hard enough.

goldenboy!chris who listens to her ‘work voice’ and wants to ruin it. not out of jealousy—but devotion. he wants to be the one who undoes her. makes her stutter. makes her real.

sexhotline!reader who moaned his name in the middle of a hotline call once and had to mute herself. daisy called him later, breathless, flushed, whispering: “that one’s your fault.” 

goldenboy!chris who jerks off to the sound of her laughter, then feels guilty after. he doesn’t even need the moans anymore. just her, breathless and teasing. just her voice cracking when she says his name, the one she gave him. sun. he finishes with her name on his lips, then buries his face in his pillow like he did something wrong.

sexhotline!reader who touches herself to the things sun says by accident. like when he murmurs her name too softly. or when he laughs. or when he tells her he had a good day and sounds proud. she slides a hand down and stifles her moans into her pillow like he’s the one doing it.

goldenboy!chris who wants to fuck her slow just to hear what she sounds like when it’s not performative. “no scripts,” he’d whisper. “just us.” and he’d take his time. worship her voice like a hymn. make her forget every other man she’s ever spoken to.

sexhotline!reader who sends him audios of her whimpering his name. not dirty—desperate. voice high and breathy, like she misses him. “you make me feel so full,” she whispers, “and you haven’t even touched me yet.”

goldenboy!chris who sends her audio of himself, low and desperate, saying her name between ragged breaths. he doesn’t say what he’s doing. doesn’t need to. she can hear it in the strain of his voice. the pause. the swallow. “i can’t stop thinking about your mouth,” he admits.

sexhotline!reader who records herself in the shower. not the splash of water—just the steam in her voice. soft little sounds. humming something slow and low. she knows what it does to him. she wants it to.

goldenboy!chris who dreams about her sitting on his lap, arms around his neck, whispering all the filthy things she usually says to strangers—but just for him. he wakes up hard. aching. lonely.

sexhotline!reader who says, “you wanna know what i’m wearing?” just to tease. and when he stammers, she laughs. says, “nothing you wouldn’t ruin anyway.”

goldenboy!chris who gets on his knees when he’s been touching himself for too long, trying to picture daisy’s body beneath him. imagines painting her body with his cum, covering her ass, stomach, thighs, her sticking her tongue out to clean him, warm, wet and loving.

sexhotline!reader who listens to his shaky messages in the dark and presses her thighs together. he thinks he’s being subtle. she knows exactly what he’s doing. and she likes it.

goldenboy!chris who tells her, quietly, “i don’t want you to sound hot. i want you to sound mine.” and it’s not a demand. it’s a plea.

sexhotline!reader who calls him after she comes just to let him hear how soft she sounds. “you’d like the way i look right now,” she sighs. “messy. ruined. yours.”

goldenboy!chris who swears her voice alone could make him come. "don’t even need to touch me," he’d say. “just talk, baby.” and she would. low and sweet and teasing. until he’s panting into the receiver like it’s her skin.

sexhotline!reader who wants him to fuck her and mean it. not just get off. want her. want her voice. want her mouth. want her bent over his bed whispering, "i've been thinking about this for months.”

goldenboy!chris who leaves her a 3am voicemail that sounds half-asleep and wholly feral. “daisy,” he groans, breath catching. “i wanna kiss down your spine. slow. teeth and tongue. you’d sound so pretty, i know it.”

goldenboy!chris who still wants to hold her after. who would rest his head between her thighs, listening to the way she breathes. whispering, “still with me, sweetheart?” because he doesn’t want just the sex. he wants her after.

goldenboy!chris who finally says, “i don’t want to be a voice anymore, daisy. i want to see you. for real this time. can i?”

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws ꨄ

a/n: these were sooooo fun to make!!!!!! i made another part which kinda hints at their dynamic in the future, so lmk if u like these and i'll post the rest of my hcs 💌

thank you so much for reading!! likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated :)

[burnt-by-marigolds]

This made me emotional on just. So many levels. I have some thougts I need out of my head.

I've been mentioning it here and there, so some of you may already know I came to Tumblr because I wanted to reclaim my ability to express myself. (And, all things considered, I think it's going well.)

I was a very talkative child. I even remember being called smart-mouthed and too loud. (Something probably influenced by my autism, but no one knew it back then.) All in all, my close ones thankfully didn't try to suppress my love for words and talking. I remember that if I had a thought, I needed to immediatelly voice it (and now, being an adult, I understand why it could have come across as rude, even if it was never my intention). I loved browsing dictionaries, learning vocabulary, I made lists of my favourite words. (Actually, I still love all of these things.)

All of this got suppressed later, in high school and early adult life. I got bullied for opening my mouth and eventually decided it's not worth it. I tried to become invisible instead and I'm only unlearning this now.

But there are other reasons why I sometimes lose my ability to communicate effectively: when I'm exhausted and overstimulated. My ability to put together a coherent sentence deteriorates. It feels especially crippling, because – let me reiterate – I love words.

Sorry for hijacking the topic, I promise we're getting right back to Astarion. I guess what I wanted to express up to this point is that the topic is important to me, and that I can personally relate to it.

When you can't express yourself, you feel walled off from the rest of the world. You feel like you don't control your life, because if you don't have a voice, it usually means it's other people who make your decisions for you. You lose agency and dignity. You feel inferior. It really is debilitating.

During the first few days after the nautiloid crash, Astarion is experiencing a lot of seemingly mundane things for the first time. He can eat (an absolutely basic need!). He can talk – even more, he can have a conversation that's not immediatelly hostile and filled with malintent (because, I imagine, he had plenty of conversations with his siblings, and they were all riddled with resentment and pitfalls). He can walk in the sun. All things we usually take for granted in our day to day life – they are novel to him, a marvel. I'll never forget what he says when you enter Baldur's Gate for the first time: "You can forget just how much colour there is in the world." He sees colours clearly for the first time in two hundred years.

So of course he loves to talk, now that he's finally safe and free to do so. Of course he might even talk a little too much. Maybe he was always naturally talkative, or maybe later he'll become quieter (but not silenced). "That first rush of freedom can be intoxicating," after all.

I'm currently in my Astarion Origin playthrough, and I, too, miss hearing his voice. At least his party banter is all in place. But I have an experience from that playthrough I'd like to share.

I visited the goblin camp and talked with Abdirak. Personally, I like this NPC and how the interaction with him is designed. Loviatar's Love is a nice boon, too, so I agreed to receive the "penance". When the priest used his scourge, I chose the Performance options, because I figured it would be the easiest way to pass the checks and endure the entire sequence.

The scene started to play out, and suddenly I was chilled to the bone. Because it only then dawned on me that the Performance options were about theatrically screaming and pleading for mercy. And that the whole sequence must actually mirror Astarion's experience with Godey.

Because under Cazador, Astarion wasn't valued for his way with words. No, he was valued for his sweet screams.

The cruelty lies not only in stripping Astarion of his voice (and, therefore, another facet of agency) – but also in repurposing it in such a twisted way.

So yes, let him talk, let him ramble, let him say all the stupidest things. He needs that – out of his head, off his chest. His voice is yet another thing to reclaim.

@izumiphoenix thank you for bringing this topic up. You wrote a great and inspiring analysis. Hope you don't mind me attaching my ramble to it.

Silenced No More

For a while now, I really wanted to write a post about how Astarion loves to talk: how witty and playful he is, always ready with a joke or clever remark. And I wanted it to be a positive post, to be honest. But with Astarion, even such a lighthearted topic is tied to his past, especially the way he was silenced for so long.

Of course, it’s not just Astarion – all the companions enjoy talking, and who wouldn’t, when someone’s genuinely listening? Gale shares his knowledge at every turn, Shadowheart is full of sarcasm, and Lae’zel eagerly educates you on Gith culture. But with Astarion, it feels especially touching: he hides so much behind a mask, and yet he still clearly loves to talk.

Even Gale wasn’t so open to conversations at first.

Astarion: I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, Gale? Gale: Uhm... Sure. In silence.

Astarion opens up unexpectedly fast and talks about his past so early on – it is what completely disarmed me when I played for the first time.

He longs to be known, because he longs to be. I’ve touched on this in other posts, so I won’t go deep into it here, but I also think it’s just part of who he is. Talking is how he connects to the world. How he shows he exists.

There are even gameplay moments where his approval shifts based on humor, and he often engages in banter with the player character – as long as they understand when it is appropriate or not.

And it’s not just that he simply wants to talk – he enjoys the exchange, but also appreciates being heard and taken seriously, as someone who matters.

But then, there’s Cazador.

There’s a moment during their confrontation when he mocks Astarion for being talkative in the past. From Astarion’s reaction, I get the sense that this wasn’t a single insult – it was something he used to hear often. That his voice, his chatter, his attempts to express himself were something Cazador used against him.

Cazador Szarr: No, you always had a gift for words.

Cazador Szarr: I fondly remember your empty boasting, your tired jokes, your endless prattle…

Astarion: No! Shut up!

(Side note: I think they’ve changed this moment a little bit, because I clearly remember there was a close-up to your character right after Astarion’s exclamation. It showed them maybe taken aback by the intensity of his reaction. And that exact moment made me feel like they realized at that moment just how hard Astarion was fighting not to fall back into that old dynamic, not to let Cazador’s influence fill his heart again. And how difficult it was to stay grounded for him in that moment. Sorry for being sidetracked!)

And then there’s something else I've only discovered recently. I didn't even encounter that dialogue option in Act 3, where Astarion could tell you about the time he was locked in a tomb for a year. I only found this out from Tumblr. But this conversation I've seen for the first time, and it shook me a bit.

If your character tries to convince Astarion to accept the Astral-Touched tadpole, you can use illithid powers to search his mind for his worst memory that brings him “the purest terror.”

As you pick apart his mind, you discover his worst memory. That which brings him the purest terror.

Complete solitude after being disobedient. Sealed. Buried alive. Voiceless. Will this be forever?

A year of horror. Then the release. He will never disobey again.

The idea of being sealed away in total darkness, not knowing if or when you'll be released, is an unimaginable horror. That moment hit me so hard. But these words – complete solitude, voiceless – stood out the most.

Cazador knew exactly how to punish him. He stripped away not just Astarion’s freedom, but his voice – his ability to reach the outside world, to be acknowledged. That darkness wasn’t just physical – it was silence, helplessness, isolation.

It is just so painful and infuriating to think about how Astarion was treated, how Cazador always tried to silence him. And it makes it even more precious that Astarion can finally speak freely now. It must feel liberating for him.

When you show him even a little care, he tells you everything. He jokes, he flirts, he invites you to compare your companion's blood and the many ways one might choose to die. He stumbles back into the camp after an intoxicating victory to tell you all about it (and this deserves a whole post, hopefully soon!). He never seems to hesitate to voice a controversial opinion, even knowing others might not approve.

He is still guarded, still performing, but I imagine it still meant so much for him if you listen – not tolerate, dismiss or shut him down, but genuinely listen to what he has to say, laugh at his jokes, and pay attention to his words.

There’s another moment that keeps haunting my mind – if you convince him to sleep with you even after his confession in Act 2, this is what he says:

Astarion: It's almost funny. This is all a game to you, isn't it? No matter what I say, it doesn't matter. Not if you get what you want.

It is such a heartbreaking moment. He tried so hard to communicate: it’s not easy to talk about his past, his vulnerabilities, but every time he chooses to say it, because he wants to connect with you. And when he’s ignored like that, it confirms his worst fear – that what he says, what he feels, doesn’t matter. That no one is really listening.

But even in that pain, he finds a new resolve to say no. He learns to protect himself.

I love how much he talks. I really do. During my second playthrough with a new Tav, Thalyn, I was leaving Astarion at camp (to avoid temptation haha). And honestly, it felt like that game lost so much of its charm for me. I’m biased, of course, but his comments and jokes always provided a much-needed relief during stressful times of the first playthrough and waiting for what Astarion has to say about this or that became something I always anticipated.

Eventually, I missed my first Tav, Roanael, her team, and Astarion so much… I dropped that playthrough at the beginning of Act 3 and went back to rerun the first one (no regrets!)

I just hope that now, in his radiant future, no one will ever silence him again.

And maybe he will learn about another kind of silence – warm and gentle, the one that doesn’t need to be filled. When you can just be with someone and already be heard.

[mattsunsdollie]

dbf! aaron judge who meets your dad after your parents nasty divorce. your dad needed a change in scenery, moving to a city nearby where he met aaron. you had heard the name aaron numerous times, and how he was like but you never paid too much attention when your father would talk about him.

however, when you came back from college you noticed your dad went out a lot. you felt happy for him, but curiosity killed you. you wanted to meet this aaron man, to see who has been pulling your dad out of his shell.

and one sunday afternoon you did. your father invited him over for dinner, and you couldn’t lie— you were happy to finally meet your dads dearest friend. when there were three loud knocks you went to open the door, expecting a middle aged man with greys. however you were met with a 6’7 handsome man with freckles and a smirk on his face.

you were in awe, “you must be his daughter, heard a lot about you kid” he said smiling at you. the crows feet by his eyes adding to his attractiveness. you weren’t a kid, far from that for many years. and you somehow wanted to prove that to him.

“good things i hope” you say back stepping out of the doorway yo let him in. he lets out a hearty laugh as he comes into the apartment, greeting your dad.

dinner was well, it was mostly you listening to whatever your dad and aaron spoke about. with the occasional comment from you. you learned he was divorced, like your father. you couldn’t think of why someone would let him go.

aaron spoke about how he got to see so many parts of the city because of his job. which is when your dad mentioned how you wanted to go explore the city. you turned shy, playing with the food on your plate. “i could take you, i don’t mind. if that’s good with you?” aaron says, gulping down his iced tea.

“y-yeah, thank you” you mutter out. your dad would be workikg more hours, now that there were 2 mouths to feed.

and on one of those days your dad stayed later, aaron called you. butterflies filled your stomach as the older man shared his plans for the day, the itinerary started with some monuments then ending with a his favorite restaurant.

you were nervous, fiddling with the hem of your shorts as you walked down to meet him at the lobby. it was awkward at first, both of your still and with precaution. but as you sat in his passenger seat, surrounded by his cologne you relaxed.

it didn’t feel like being out with your dads best friend. the way he took your photos at each monument. the way he broke his neck at the men who stared at you. at the restaurant his eyes seemed to linger on you for a second too long.

his fingertips brushing against your hands too many times to be an accident. but like everything good, the day came to an end. the drive back to your apartment was filled with a thick tension.

when he pulled into your dads parking spot, you both sat there momentarily. “thank you so much again, i had a lot of fun” you said sweetly, trying to make out his features in the dark car.

“of course, hope i didn’t ruffle any feathers or make your boyfriend jealous” he replies, turning his head to face you.

“don’t have one” you respond almost instantly. he rests his elbow on the middle section, his bicep popping. you try to not look— but he notices.

“shocking, i would’ve bet a lot of money that those college boys would be chasing after you” he flirts. and he’s testing the boundaries.

“not into boys, need a real man” you tease

he has his signature smirk plastered over his face. “yeah? you’ve been with a real man before?” he asks, and you feel little under his harsh gaze.

you nod no, “doesn’t mean i don’t want to be with one” and that’s what breaks the camels back. he leans in, lips hovering over yours. “your dads gonna kill me”

“i can keep a secret” you respond and he’s crashing his lips onto yours. you move in sync, while his scruff scratches your cheek and chin. it hurts so good you can’t get enough. his large palm is on your neck, keeping you where he wants.

then your phone rings, your dad was calling. you compose yourself before answering. he wanted to know how it was going, you informed him you just got back to the apartment.

it killed the mood, and you felt awkward again. “thank you again” you say and he squeezes your hand. “anytime” and you make your way into your building.

your heart is beating so hard against your ribcage you swear others could hear it. as you entered the elevator you received a text from aaron:

“tell me when’s the next time i can see you. i can keep a secret too”

[queenofmorningstar]

Can I ask please for like (Sub!)Lucifer x FEM(!Dom)! Reader? But, BUT! What if Lucifer, likes to explore new things, curious also wondering, ask Y/n (maybe during mid-making out, heh) if they can like change they're gender and fully swap roles?

I've been searching for genderswap Lucifer x Reader/fully roleswap Lucifer x Reader 😭😭

Gender swap Lucifer x Reader

Notes: This is such a unique request and I loved writing it! I tried lol so pls spare me. Credits of images rest with the editors! Since you didn't mention you wanted nsfw, but included sub/dom, so I'm doing both sfw and nsfw(will be under cut).

CW: reader explores fem! Luci body thoroughly 😏(body worship) Genderfluid! Lucifer, NSFW under the cut.

Lucifer laughed, breathless and flushed, as you leaned in to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

You were curled up with him, limbs tangled lazily. His jacket was abandoned somewhere on the floor, bowtie undone and hanging uselessly around his neck. "You've got that look again," he said, blinking up at you with a dopey smile. “Like you’re about to kiss me stupid.”

“Wouldn’t dream of stopping,” you murmured, brushing your nose against his.

And you didn’t. You kissed him slowly, thoroughly, until he was giggling again into your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, clutching gently.

He let out a whimpery little laugh as your hands slipped beneath his shirt, palms skating over his ribs. The heat started to build, your bodies shifting together with more urgency now, the kisses getting deeper, needier, slower in a way that said neither of you wanted to come up for air just yet.

And then—Lucifer froze. Just slightly. Not enough to be obvious. But you noticed the subtle hitch in his breath. The way his fingers twitched at your waist. The way he was thinking now, instead of feeling.

You leaned back just an inch. “Lucifer?”

He looked at you with those star-struck eyes, but hesitating.

“I, uh…” He laughed nervously. “Can I say something kinda… weird?”

You tilted your head. “Of course.”

Lucifer sat up a little, biting his bottom lip. He looked everywhere but at you. “So I’ve been thinking lately,” he began, way too fast, “about trying new things. Different roles. Different me’s. Not just in bed—though yes—but, um… more than that.”

You watched him gently, waiting.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Like, what if I weren’t… you know. This me. What if I were… a different version of me? Not a man. Just… me, but changed. New shape.”

He stopped. Winced. “Oh God, that sounded way cooler in my head. I knew I was going to make it weird—”

“Lucifer.”

“I'm sorry! I just—listen, I’ve tried so many things in my eternal existence and this is something I’ve never really—well, I have thought about it, but not with anyone, and I figured if anyone would be open to it it’d be you, but–”

You kissed him. Not to shut him up this time, but to tell him he was safe. That you understood.

When you pulled back, you smiled and cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb gently under his eye. “You want to try something new?” you said softly. “Something that feels more like you?”

He nodded, eyes wide, hopeful, nervous.

“Then I’m in,” you whispered. “Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.”

Lucifer stared at you, lips parted, expression stunned. Then he let out a shaky laugh. “You really are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Lucifer had vanished behind the dressing room curtain with his usual flourish, muttering something about “artistic reinvention” while you sat patiently nearby. You would’ve liked to see how he changed, but he insisted he would be too nervous then.

You looked up, as he entered. For a moment… you didn’t breathe.

He —She stood there—Lucifer, still unmistakably him, but different now. More curved, more delicate, her blonde hair cascading in loose waves past her shoulders. 

She fidgeted, one hand hovered awkwardly at her hip. The other rubbed the back of her neck. “…Well?” she said, voice a touch higher, still unmistakably Lucifer but now with a different lilt. “Do I look ridiculous?”

You stood up slowly, walking toward her without saying a word.

Lucifer braced herself but instead, you reached out and cupped her face. Your thumb brushed along her cheekbone. “You look beautiful,” you whispered.

She blinked. “Beautiful?” she echoed, like the word had never been said to her like that before.

“Stunning. Mesmerizing. Drop-dead gorgeous. Want me to keep going?”

Lucifer gave a nervous laugh, cheeks turning a bright golden. You laughed, pulling her into a gentle hug. Her body fit against yours in a new way now but all the warmth was exactly the same.

You pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. “You feel more like yourself this way, don’t you?”

Lucifer nodded slowly. “Today, yeah, I think I do.”

“And I’m really glad I get to see you like this.”

There was a pause.

“…Even if I don’t know what to do with my boobs yet,” she mumbled.

You grinned. “I can help you with that.”

Lucifer gasped. “Scandalous!”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against hers, smiling. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Lucifer sighed into your mouth as you guided her gently back toward the bed, step by step, your hands never leaving her waist. Her new frame trembled slightly under your touch, though not from fear. From anticipation. Every glance you gave her was a caress. Every kiss, a promise.

She fell back onto the silk sheets with a quiet laugh, legs still draped over the edge. Her jacket had been discarded somewhere on the way to the mattress, her shirt hung open just enough to tease. 

You crawled over her, slow and deliberate, until you were hovering above her. Lucifer’s breath hitched. Her hands lifted to your sides, gripping you lightly, like she still wasn’t quite sure this was real.

You leaned down again, brushing your lips just barely over her jaw. “Luci?”

“Hm?” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“Can I take this further?” you asked softly. “I need to hear it from you.”

She stilled beneath you for a moment, opening her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered, voice steady this time. “Please.”

With a smile, you kissed her again, deep and claiming and began to undress her piece by piece. You didn’t rush. This wasn’t about just intimacy but about letting her know that this version of her, too, was wanted and desired.

Lucifer whimpered beneath you as your fingers grazed new curves, your mouth following close behind. She squirmed at the sensations—so familiar, yet wildly different in this new skin. But never once did she pull away. And you—god, you were so careful. So hungry and loving and patient all at once. 

You dipped your head and took one golden peak into your mouth. Lucifer’s back arching as a startled moan tore from her throat. Her hands flew to your hair instinctively, fingers threading through with trembling reverence.

“Oh, god,” she whimpered, voice pitched and ragged. “You’re—ohhh—mmngh…”

Your tongue circled the sensitive nub, slow and deliberate. You sucked gently, and Lucifer’s thighs pressed together with a helpless whine. 

Her flushed chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, golden nipples still glistening from your mouth’s attention. Your hand slid slowly down her side, fingers tracing the curve of her waist, the soft slope of her hip. She shivered, hips twitching slightly as your palm eased lower.

“You’re trembling,” you murmured against her throat, kissing just below her ear.

“I—Fuck—” Lucifer gasped, arching into you.

Your hand slipped beneath the hem of her dress.

Lucifer’s words turned into a strangled whimper as your fingers ghosted over the soaked heat between her thighs, her entire body jolting with the contact.

“Oh—oh god,” she breathed, voice cracking around the edges. “You… you’re not wasting any time, are you?”

You grinned, slow and dangerous, nipping at her ear. “You’re already soaked, love.”

Lucifer threw her head back with a groan, hiding her blushing face in the crook of her elbow. “You don’t have to say it like that—!”

“But it’s true,” you teased, fingers pressing a little more firmly now, stroking slow circles on her clit. “You’re absolutely dripping for me.”

Her legs instinctively parted wider, offering herself with a breathless shudder. She bit her lip to keep in a moan, but you leaned down and kissed it away. Lucifer finally let out a sound between a sob and a laugh, wrapping her arms around your neck to pull you closer. “Please… don’t stop.”

Your fingers moved with slow, deliberate precision, stroking through the slick heat you found between her legs, teasing the sensitive spot that made her hips jerk and her thighs clamp around your wrist. The fabric of her dress was hiked up now, bunched around her waist, forgotten in the fever of the moment.

You leaned over her, lips at her ear. “You’re doing so well for me, Luci.”

“You’re so sensitive,” you murmured as your fingers slipped past her soaked folds, easing inside with practiced care. “So soft. So wet. This body was made to be loved like this.”

“Don’t say things like that,” she gasped.

“Why?” You curled your fingers just right, and her thighs twitched. “Because you’ll come?”

“Yes!” she sobbed.

You pressed your lips to her neck, whispering, “Then let go. I’ve got you. Just let it happen.”

Your thumb found her swollen bundle of nerves and rubbed gently, in perfect time with the motion of your fingers inside her. The wet sounds of your touch filled the room, mingling with her gasps and little whimpering cries as her body climbed higher and higher, teetering on the edge.

Her hand covered her mouth, eyes squeezed shut, trying desperately to hold back the noise rising in her throat.

You gently pulled her hand away. “Let me hear you,” you said, voice firm but tender. “Don’t hide from me.”

Her body convulsed under your touch as her orgasm tore through her with a sharp, desperate cry, her hands fisting in the sheets, mouth open in a wordless moan as she rode every wave of it.

And when it was over, when her body finally sagged back into the mattress, boneless and breathless, a dazed smile on her lips, you kissed her temple and eased your fingers free, holding her gently as she curled into your arms.

Lucifer blinked up at you with tears in her eyes and a flush still painted across her cheeks.

“I… that was…” she tried to speak, but her voice failed her.

You smiled, brushing her hair back from her damp forehead. “Perfect?”

She gave a small, dazed laugh. “Yeah. That.”

You kissed her again, slow and sweet. “You deserve to feel this good,” you whispered. “Always.”

[starrvsn]

﹙ SHOW/FANDOM ⠆911﹚

PAIRING ⠆eddie diaz x single-parent!reader

CATEGORIES ⠆fluff, baby’s first words!, single-parent!reader, brief mention of choking, a kind of what are we situation, lots of plot for no apparent reason. not canon to the 911 timeline!

OVER THE INTERCOM ⠆i got a little carried away with this one but ive been so obsessed with this show i just needed to write something, so please enjoy!

𝟒𝟏𝟏. your finally shares her first words and it’s nothing like you expected, based off a prompt that says we’re friends and my child’s first words were your name… i’m jealous but also endeared.

you had met eddie when addison was six months old– he responded to a call where your baby was choking on a carrot that you had thought was soft enough to eat, thankfully they had gotten there quick enough for eddie to perform the appropriate heimlich to retrieve the piece of carrot stuck in her throat. whilst they had your daughter overnight at the hospital, he had visited you. partically to see if your daughter was holding up okay, but mainly for you. he knew as a father himself how hard you must’ve been on yourself and offered to take you out for coffee as comfort, share silimar experiences which lead to a blossoming friendship.

eddie was always there for when you felt misguided in parenthood, always there to lend a shoulder and give you advice you needed whilst he was still figuring out how to be a good father to christopher. addison and chris became fast friends as well– despite her being a toddler and chris being fourteen, he looked after her like a sister, reading books to her and looking forward to the days you’d drop her off sometimes when you didn’t have a sitter, it was almost like a little family and you were content with that.

now, addison is almost a year old and has been growing up wonderfully. eddie was there for a majority of her milestones, when she started crawling and beginning to stand on her own and almost taking her first steps. you and eddie were on blurred lines, whilst you appreciated him being there for you and you’re daughter, you both knew getting into a serious relationship or even putting a label to things was tricky, still navigating so many changes in your lifestyle and his, it was easier to just call yourselves friends.

eddie and chris are over are you apartment today for your regularly scheduled sunday breakfast, something you made a tradition after you grew paranoid with feeding addison on your own, so in order to ease your worries eddie offered to come over every sunday to make sure breakfast would go swimmingly. at first he came on his own but then started bringing chris after a few weeks, claiming he had fomo– which was just a coverup because chris knows about you and wanted to meet you, but eddie didn’t want you knowing he talks about you, especially to his son. in those five months you’ve all gotten closer– seeing christopher slowly mature over that time and seeing his closeness with addison, it was something you didn’t want to ruin.

it was a nice sunday morning, so you decided to eat outside on your patio, there was a slight breeze but the sun was warm enough to keep the chill away. you’ve got the full spread of a classic breakfast: plates full of pancakes, fruit, bacon and scrambled eggs, a perfect breakfast. addison is sitting at the head of the table in her high chair, you’re sat next to her with eddie and chris across from you. you try your best to give addison the food your eating so she doesn’t feel left out, which you know she does, her emotions developing and finding out clearer way to express herself. on her plate are bits and pieces of fruit and plain pancakes cut into smaller, digestible pieces– even now you still check with eddie to make sure they’re not too big, not that he has ever minded.

the morning air is light, filled with laughter and passing stories about chris’ new crush or what’s been going on at school, eddie talking about the squadron– their calls and a little chismes about their current qualms outside of work. you laugh and react to their stories, it would be a lie if you didn’t enjoy them– your job was quite mundane but kept you stable so this was something you looked forward to before the busy week ahead of you.

eddie is mid sentence talking about bucks recent dilemma with tommy when addison lets out a loud babble and slaps both palms against the tray of her high chair.

“foods good huh, chiquita?” he hums to her endearingly, nodding along to her babbling, an endearing smile gracing his face. it was hard to not imagine eddie becoming a father figure to addison, he’s a great father to chris and bonds so easily with your daughter, it’s selfish and a crazy thought but is something that has crossed your mind for than once.

“addie’s has been talking a lot more recently, hasn’t she?” chris chimes in, looking over at addison who’s picking up another strawberry. i remember when you started talking eddie reminisces, going on about how his first words were when he’s was on deployment and wishes he was there to witness it.

you hum, thoughtfully. lifting your napkin to dab a smear of syrup from the corner of addison’s mouth. “she has, i’m waiting for the moment she says her first words.” a part of eddie wishes he could be there for it.

breakfast continues, more jokes and stories were shared with addisons babbling reactions in the mix. then, addison starts babbling again, less random this time. more focused. insistent.

"dee... da... eh-"

your eyes snap to her immediately, chest tightening just slightly because you've been waiting for this moment. her first real word. you've been expecting "mama." hoping for it, really. eddie's already chewing on a bite of pancake, looking over at her with soft eyes. chris, mid-sip of orange juice, sets his cup down carefully.

the moment stills as you daughter tries to find her footing, she’s been saying sounds that sound like words but not quite there, this could be the moment though. you all watch her with bated breath, no way of telling if her first words will come from her lips. then addison turns to eddie. waving her chubby hand at him and beams.

"eh-dee!" the table falls silent, eddies eyes are already on you trying to gage your reaction. your mind is blank, you never expected her first words to be his name, not even mama, not even chris’.

she then looks at you, big bright eyes as if she’s awaiting your reaction. you clear your throat, sitting a little straighter in your seat. “that’s right baby, that’s eddie right there isn’t he.” addison flashes a gummy smile at you, nodding at your words, smart little girl. postive reinforcement! reguardless of her first word, at least she got there in the end and makes it clear as day. chris is next to react, breaking out into a loud, shocked laugh. "no way! did she-? did she just say?"

"eddie," she says again, a little more proudly this time, her tiny voice clear as day. "eddie!" you look at eddie, who seems to be in more shock than you, his eyes like a deer caught in headlights, his jaw dropped a little. it isn’t until you brushed your foot against his under the table, he shifts, eyes finally focusing to you. his are wide, soft, apologetic all at once.

"she-uh," he clears his throat, setting down his fork. "she said my name."

"yeah." your voice comes out smaller than intended, a touch breathy. "yeah, she did."

addison claps, giggling like she's solved world peace. your heart squeezes.

"i didn't teach her that," eddie says, like he needs you to believe him. "i swear. i always call myself tío or just talk about 'your mama' when i'm with her—i never-"

you wave a hand, the corners of your mouth twitching. "no, i know. i believe you. it's just.." you glance at your daughter, cheeks pink and eyes so happy. "i thought it would be me, you know? or even chris. not-"

"not me," eddie says quietly.

your eyes meet again. the air between you shifts, heavy with something unspoken. but neither of you address it, just push it aside for later, shifting your mood to the fact it was addisons first word, praising her endlessly, ignoring the swirl of warmth in your stomach when she babbled eddies name when he took her out of her high chair.

later, whilst you’re cleaning up from breakfast, now early afternoon. christopher is sitting snuggly on your loveseat, he’s enthusiastically reading to addison, making silly voices and sound exaggerations to make the story of the little red riding hood more entertaining.

you and eddie are doing dishes. he’s washing while you’re drying. it was silent at first, neither of you knew what to say. how to approach this conversation, hey my daughters first word was your name what does this mean? this was not something you read about in your guide to motherhood books. you couldn’t even form appropriate words without giving anything away. eddie knew it would lead to other unanswered things to your friendship that sometimes seemed more than what it was. eddie was content with what you had going on but lingering in his mind knew he wanted more, you wanted more.

it was just difficult to approach, you didn’t want to overstep or mislead. you never really settled on what your friendship had turned into, afraid of shifting your dynamic into something awkward and that would lead to being distant then into being out of touch and away from each others lives which neither of you wanted. if the conversation needed to be had, it was now.

eddies the one to break the silence “well, that was unexpected,” he murmurs, addisons little voice ringing in his head, he felt so delighted and warm when she has said it, it was a moment he wanted to experience with chris and it just so happened with your daughter, that’s evidently not his.

“…very unexpected.” you cough, picking at the threads of the dishtowel. unsure how the lead the conversation. the silence stretches again, this time a little less heavy, a little more expectant. like the moment is gently asking you both to be brave.

“but it wasn’t unwelcome, i didn’t think it’d make me feel so much.” he adds, glancing at you sideways, his voice barely above the hum of christopher’s animated storytelling in the background. “it did though, hearing her sweet little voice say my name…made me happy.” dishes are long forgotten and his soapy hands stand at the edge of the basin.

“yeah…” you trail, “made me happy too, just don’t know what happens now.” your throat feels tight, not in a bad way just anticipating his words.

your hands clutching tightly on the rag, eyes focused on the pattern away from his gaze. he pauses, turning to fully face you. his hands grasps yours, giving them a gentle squeeze. as if begging you to look at him. you slowly turn to him, your body before your head– gazing at him through your lashes.

he looks at you, really looks, like he’s searching for something in your eyes that’ll give him all the answers. his eyes are soft, with something raw and vulnerable he only ever shows in quiet moments like these. "i know we’ve been walking this weird line for a while now. friends, but sometimes it feel like we’re more than friends. you’re important to me. and addie—she means a lot to me too. maybe more than i realized."

you don’t look away. your heart thuds loud in your ears. "i’ve thought about it," you admit softly. "more than i should. i just didn’t want to ruin what we have. what we’ve built. it’s been safe. and good."

"it still can be," he says gently, moving your hands close to him, moving closer, closing the gap between you. "just... maybe with more honesty. more intention."

"you think we could make it work?"

he smiles then, a more meaningful one. "i think we already are. we just haven’t admitted it to ourselves yet."

you glance toward the living room; addison is squealing at christopher’s overly dramatic wolf impression, clapping her hands, her joy bouncing off the walls of your little home. it feels warm. like family.

"i want to try," you say, voice steady now. "not for her. not because of today. but because i want to. because you’re the first person i feel like i don’t have to pretend with."

he leans closer, as if telling you a secret only for you to hear. his big brown eyes boring into yours. "i’m not perfect. i’m still learning. still messing up." he means it.

"so am i," you say with a soft laugh. "but maybe we can figure it out together."

"yeah," he says, moving his hands to your waist and into a hug, cheek against your hair, it warm and content, like secret promises and new beginning "together sounds good."

just like that, everything you had been worrying about, are washed away and into something more, something real and worth it.

ownership of starrvsn. please do not repost, modify or translate.

[oneinnocentprincess]

"I just hate yelling at people...not that I think you are doing that! But I'm sure you are more authoritative with the council than I am...I would just hate to upset them or that they simply never gain respect for me." Eleanor attempted to explain to Oscar, even if it was fairly clear already where she was coming from. "I do not want to cause an upset."

Eleanor did roll her eyes slightly at his comment regarding how her caring was dangerous. "You do not have to lie to me." She assured him. "Caring just makes me cry." She said, gesturing to herself and her disheveled-ness.

“Well most of my life was spent in the royal palace, so many of my memories will be in there." She explained, if it were not already obvious how sheltered she had been. "I do have my favorite rooms--including my own, of course. My study felt like an extension of my room. There still was the important boring and official books, but I also kept books I enjoyed in there, both fiction and non fiction." It was nice to even just talk about it. It lifted some weight off of her, the assurance that this was not some forbidden thing she was never to speak of ever again. That she was allowed to think and talk of home.

“I do enjoy the lack of speeches.” It all was very intimate, she could understand why he preferred to eat in this sort of setting. It still was odd to her, mostly because it was simply different. What also was different was having a husband, so maybe that played into the oddness of this all. “I don’t mind banquets—up to a certain point and then I become bored out of my mind.”

“Oh no, I—we—are not doing anything like that.” Eleanor stated firmly with a shake of her head, her face going red at the thought. “I could not imagine…doing that and there are just others in the room...and the artist would have to stare and—“ She could not even bring herself to complete the thought before shuttering. “Your mentioning of the ropes sounds more appealing than that.” She stated to really drive her point.

Oscar gave her a sideways glance, the beginnings of a grin forming. “They have strong opinions because I don’t let them bore me to death,” he said, tone light but with a thread of truth beneath. “You’ll learn how to manage them. Just don’t let tradition turn into quiet obedience.” His voice dipped a little, more sincere now. He knew what the council whispered, what image they expected of her—and he wanted no part in forcing her into it.

Her honesty about taking things personally earned a small nod from him. “Good. That means you care. And that’s not a weakness, Eleanor—it’s what makes you dangerous in the best way.” He reached for his glass, then paused. “If your design opinions tarnish my legacy, then may history remember me for my impeccable taste in queens and carpets.”

She laughed then, the tension easing from her shoulders. “We’ll need a second wing just for the things you’ll bring back,” he teased, warming to her smile. “I want to see your world—not the royal halls, but the places that mattered to you.” The idea seemed to brighten her even more, her expression softening into something close to relief.

When she apologised again for interrupting dinner, he shook his head and returned to his seat beside her. “This is dinner,” he said, with a quiet smile. “Messy, honest, a little emotional. Better than any banquet I’ve sat through. And no speeches.”

Her small laugh over the tapestries sealed it—some part of her had come back to him. “They do exist,” he insisted, eyes glinting. “If history insists on remembering us, I’d rather it be for the way you looked at me just now. Or how you laugh when you’re trying not to. But if they insist on tapestries—” he leaned in, brushing her knuckles with his lips, “—I’ll make sure they get your good side.”