#you can tell my hands are shaking more and more each panel

[msbigredmachine]

Off The Record (Roman Reigns)

When passion gets recorded, it becomes the hottest track of the year.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black female rapper!OC

Warnings: Fluff, smut

Word Count: 3k

Song muses:

The neon lights bathed the walls of the recording studio, their pulsing hues reflecting off the glass panel that separated the booth from the control room. Lyrica Walker, better known to the world as the award winning rapper and singer Sweet Lyrica, was deep in thought. Her gaze flicked between the blank page and the microphone in the recording booth. A heavy bass line rumbled through the speakers, but the rhythm wasn’t igniting her the way it usually did.

Something was missing. Scratch that—someone was missing.

She tapped her pen against the spiral binding of her notebook, her full lips pursed in concentration. But no matter how hard she tried to focus, her mind kept drifting back to him.

Her man. Her love.

It was coming up to two years since she started dating Roman Reigns, and every day felt like she was living in a constant state of excitement and need. He spoiled her with everything—a constant flow of dinners at fancy restaurants, spontaneous trips to places she hadn’t even thought about, and a stream of expensive gifts and trinkets that made her feel like a queen. But it wasn’t just the gifts. No. It was the way he looked at her, touched her, loved her, like she was the only woman in the world.

“You’re zoning out again,” Dez, her producer, said from behind the console. His fingers hovered over the controls, his expression hovering somewhere between amused and exasperated.

Lyrica snapped out of her reverie, shaking her head as if that would dispel the image of Roman’s eyes, his lips, his hands, his dick…

“I’m tryna lock in,” she lied, her voice sultry even when she wasn’t trying. “It just don’t feel right yet. It’s too…soft. I need that shit to hit harder, like Roman does in bed.”

Dez cast her a sidelong glance, clearly uncomfortable. “You just had to say that, huh,” he griped.

Lyrica shot him a playful look. “Oh, come on. You gotta give me credit. With my line of thought, this track’s gonna be fire.”

Bree, her assistant, was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through her phone with a grin plastered across her face. “I don’t know, Dez. I think this one’s gonna be a megahit. You can’t ignore the realness of it. It’s raw.”

Lyrica leaned back in her chair, tapping the pen against her lips. “I’m thinking of calling it ‘Can You Tell’.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Like, Can you tell when we alone in a room, we got the vibe and we got the tune?”

Dez nodded, impressed. “That’s a start.”

“And it’s facts, too,” Bree added with a smirk. “I mean, the neighbors definitely know when y’all are in the same room, that’s for sure.”

Lyrica couldn’t help but grin at the numerous reminders. Like the night before Roman had left for the UK. They fucked each other up and down her condo with such intensity that she woke the following morning to a complaint filed by her neighbors. If only she cared. It had been two weeks since then, and she was feeling every second of his absence. She had memories to hang on to, all of which made her toes curl and her lips curl into a small, secretive smile. But it wasn’t enough. She craved the real thing.

“Wait! How’s this? Can you tell from the way I don’t walk straight, that he eats my pussy out on every date?” she freestyled, her voice dripping with sass as she jotted down the lyrics.

“Oooh yasss girl, get that shit,” Bree cheered, snapping her fingers.

Dez’s reaction was the complete opposite, his hand over his eyes. “Lyrica, please! I do not need to hear about any more of your…dates with Roman. You like a sister to me, man,” he cringed.

“Come on now, let Miss Mama do her thing,” Bree interjected. “This song is gonna go viral. Big man’s gonna love it.”

Lyrica smirked. “He definitely will. This the kinda dirty shit he inspires.”

Bree snorted, “Girl, everything you do is inspired by Roman. I don’t blame you, though. Have you seen him?!”

Lyrica shot her a look but didn’t argue.

“Exactly,” Bree laughed, “I’m just sayin’,” she added, holding up her phone to display a video of Roman from his match the night before in London. He strode around the ring, dripping sweat, his long hair falling over his shoulders like a god carved from marble. “If my man looked like that, I’d write a whole damn album about him.”

“Exactly. He makes me wild. And wild is what sells,” Lyrica replied, her pen tapping again on her notebook. Bree wasn't wrong. Roman wasn’t just her man; he was her muse, her balance. With him, she felt powerful and vulnerable all at once—a walking contradiction that made her and her music come alive.

“Girl, it’s not just wild; it’s real,” said Bree, “That’s why people love you two. Y’all are couple goals, for real.”

Lyrica’s smile softened, but her voice carried the weight of a confession. “He’s so…different. The kind of man I didn’t even know I needed. I don’t know where I’d be without him. Like, literally.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. Dez and Bree exchanged a glance, their silence louder than anything they could say. They both knew the depths Lyrica had clawed her way out of—a nightmare disguised as a high-profile relationship with a rapper that had unraveled into chaos. What had started as love turned into suffocating control, bruises hidden beneath designer clothes, and a fear she’d once thought impossible to escape. Then, Roman was no more than an acquaintance. They’d met through mutual friends, and from the beginning, his kindness was disarming, selfless in a way she wasn’t used to, his quiet strength a balm to her chaos. She’d sensed his attraction, but he never once overstepped, respecting the fragile walls she’d built around herself.

It all changed on a storm-drenched night when Lyrica found herself standing on his doorstep, soaked to the bone, trembling, and broken. Her words had been disjointed, barely audible through her sobs, but the sight of her swollen face said more than enough. Roman didn’t ask questions. He didn’t hesitate.

“You’re staying here tonight,” he said, his tone steady and resolute as he guided her inside.

She shook her head weakly, her voice breaking. “I don’t wanna be a burden…”

“You’re not a burden,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hands settled gently on her shoulders, grounding her. “Lyrica, you’re worth protecting.” He dipped his head, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’ll protect you. That fucker will never hurt you again.”

Lyrica remembered the rain pouring outside with the same intensity as her tears as she broke apart in his arms. For the first time in years, she’d felt something she thought she’d lost forever: hope.

It was Roman who encouraged her to testify against her abuser, standing beside her through every painful step of the process. His unwavering support gave her the strength to reclaim her life, and when her ex was finally sentenced, she knew she owed—and loved—Roman, more than she could ever express. 

An idea came to her mind, and she quickly scribbled it down:

Can you tell by the way I glow, his love is my fire and I can’t let him go?

The door to the studio creaked open. Lyrica barely registered it at first, assuming it was another assistant or studio tech coming in to fetch something. She didn’t bother looking up...until she heard a voice she hadn’t realized she was holding her breath for.

“Y’all talkin’ bout me in here?”

Familiar. Deep. Hers.

Her heart lurched, and a shiver raced down her spine. Slowly, almost afraid to hope, she turned her head.

Roman stood in the doorway, a bouquet of deep red roses cradled in his hand, his presence commanding the room like a storm that had just rolled in. The custom-made Nike tech fleece hugged his broad shoulders, his hair was tied back in a sleek bun, and that signature smirk—equal parts cocky and endearing—curved his lips. But it was his eyes that undid her. They locked onto hers, brimming with amusement, heat, and something softer, deeper, that made her chest tighten.

“Hey, baby girl,” he drawled, his deep baritone smooth and magnetic, the sound wrapping around her like a blanket on a cold night.

Lyrica’s breath hitched. It felt like the room had shrunk to just the two of them, his presence filling every corner of her world. She wanted to say something clever, something casual, but her words faltered under the weight of her emotions. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, and now here he was, looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Her pen slipped from her fingers. “Baby!” She was on her feet before she realized she was moving, rushing across the room and leaping into his arms. He caught her with ease, holding her carefully as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“What are you doing here?” she breathed, burying her face in his neck. His scent—clean and masculine with a hint of his cologne—made her head spin with a myriad of emotions. “Oh my god, you smell so good,” she gushed.

Laughing, his lips pressed against her skin. “Your birthday’s in three days,” he murmured against her ear, “You really think I’d miss that?”

Her grip on him tightened. “I thought you had more shows.”

“I did.” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, his huge hands possessively gripping her equally bounteous ass. “But you’re more important.”

Bree squealed softly from the couch, breaking the romantic moment. Finally setting Lyrica down on her feet, Roman’s eyes flicked to Bree, then to Dez, and his expression shifted to that commanding dominance that never failed to turn Lyrica on.

“Out. Both o' you. I need a moment with my girl,” he said.

Dez and Bree exchanged wide-eyed looks. Bree gave a sly smile and was the first to head for the door, dragging Dez along with her. “Don’t mind us, we’ll just…uh, take a break,” she said, clearly amused, shooting Lyrica a cheeky grin as she grabbed her bag. 

As the door clicked shut behind them, Roman turned to his girlfriend, that sexy smile back on his face. His eyes softened, a perfect mix of affection and desire. “So,” he began, his deep voice tinged with amusement, “what songs have you been working on lately?”

“A few here and there,” Lyrica teased, recalling the brainstorming session from just moments ago. “They’re about you, of course.”

His grin widened, and his hands slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “Yeah? I like the sound of that already,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing gentle circles on her sides. “But I got some lyrics for you, too.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, you got bars? Lemme hear ‘em, then.”

He leaned in just enough to let his lips graze her ear, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m the flame to your fire, the calm to your fight, The one who showed you love could be so right.”

Her heart thudded at his words, striking deeper than she expected. For a moment, she could only blink at him, her playful facade slipping into something softer, more vulnerable. “Sounds like a hit already, baby,” she whispered.

Roman chuckled, low and warm, as Lyrica cupped his bearded cheeks and guided his lips to hers. The kiss was gentle, sensual, and full of untapped love, leaving them both breathless and clinging to each other like they were each other’s anchor. The room around them quickly melted away, the only sounds the faint hum of the studio equipment and their breaths mingling.

“I’ve missed the fuck outta you,” Roman admitted, his voice low and hungry as his hand slipped south to squeeze her ass in his possessive grasp. “Every time I was in the ring, all I could think about was getting back to you.”

Lyrica's fingers curled into the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer. “You think I’ve had it any easier? I can’t even write 'cause all I want is you.”

“I want you, too, baby. Come get this dick,” he growled, making her pulse quicken. As a couple, nowhere was off limits to fuck, not even in a recording studio. That’s how needy they were for each other. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, even more so as he kissed her again, fierce and persistent. With a soft groan into her mouth, he carried her blindly over to the console, settling her on the edge as he pressed into her. The control he had, the way he handled her like she was the only thing that mattered in that moment, aroused her to no end.

Shoving his joggers down his legs, Lyrica cupped that big ol’ dick of his in her palm, massaging him through his briefs. A moan emanated from both their lips at her touch, her acrylic nails scraping his rapidly stiffening flesh. Her fingers hooked the waistband of his briefs, and she pushed them down too, all the way to his ankles. In turn, he lifted her hips enough to drag her boy shorts off, then practically tore off her panties. He brought the scrap of lace material to his nose, eyes fluttering shut as the scent of her desire filled his nostrils. He smiled down at its source, gleaming from between her toned legs. "I see you're wet for me, baby," he observed, his voice thick with desire.

“I’m always wet for you,” Lyrica purred, resting on her hands behind her, watching him stroke himself in preparation for her. “Fuck me, baby. Hard.”

“Yes ma’am.” Roman inclined her against the glass paneling, hooked her legs around his bulging biceps and slowly guided his dick into her slick warmth. "Mmm, fuck yeah," he hissed as he started off with deep, plunging strokes, desperate for her as she was for him. He said nothing, for now, simply focusing on giving his girl something they’ve both been missing for weeks. The sensations flooding through him proved time and again that FaceTime could never replace the raw viscerality of his length wrapped by her tight, potent pussy.

Pushing her top up, he squeezed on her titties, caressing the soft, pliable flesh as he upped the tempo. “Such a good girl, keeping this pussy wet for daddy,” he rasped, leaning in for a sloppy kiss as he stared deep into her eyes. Her heavy breasts bounced in his palms, the glass panel rattling behind her as he fucked her against it. “Like how I’m fucking this pussy, baby? You missed this dick, huh?”

"I missed it, daddy, mmm, you feel so good," Lyrica whimpered, and it was the sweetest sound the OTC had ever heard. He plucked her nipples, gritting his teeth as her pussy squeezed his shaft, intensifying the already incredible sensations. 

“So fucking tight…” he growled, pounding into her harder, driving in and out of her dripping pussy. His hands left her breasts to grip her ass cheeks, lifting her against him while he hammered white-hot pleasure into her body, making her cry out again and again. 

“Mmmph, mmm, yes, yes, daddy, fuck me!” One hand moved to claw at his bicep, her fingernails digging into his taut skin, her breaths expelling with every slam of his pelvis. “Good ass dick…” she whined, her eyes rolling back, her stomach clenching along with her pussy as ecstasy beckoned. “Shit, I’m gonna come…”

“Uh huh. Get your nut, baby. Come on,” Roman rasped, grabbing her thick thighs and spreading them far apart as he kept up his ruthless pace. A sound of pleasure rumbled from his chest at the sight of his groin area smeared with her juices, the squelching sounds of her wetness mingling erotically with their sex noises. His glazed eyes locked onto her face, alight with ecstasy, and he watched her arch off the console and her jaw drop, moaning with reckless abandon, her legs trembling as she came apart around him.

“Unnnnhhh…”

"Shit," Roman gasped, pinning her down, his hips snapping furiously. He was so close, his end building with a near-crippling intensity that made his dick throb. "Fuck, Lyrica..."

“You're close, ain’tcha, Ro?” she taunted, her hands closing around his pumping hips to pull him deeper. “Come inside me, baby. Come for me.”

His groans harmonized with hers as he shuddered, releasing everything he had into her, Lyrica holding him close as pleasure swept through his big body. His nut seemed to go on forever, but at last, he stilled, his face buried in her neck, his heart hammering in his chest.

Lyrica laughed breathlessly, tenderly rubbing the back of his head. “Damn, big daddy,” she teased.

Roman wrapped a gentle hand around her neck and grinned down at her. “Told you I missed you.”

“I know, baby. I missed you too,” she nodded, sighing softly as their mouths met again, their tongues twining slowly, deliciously. Then, a loud gasp escaped her as she suddenly realized something. 

“Oh shit!” she muttered, looking around the room, then at Roman, her eyes wide. “The mics were on!”

Roman looked over at the recording equipment, his eyes narrowing. “What?”

Lyrica quickly pushed a button, and the playback button lit up. What followed was the unmistakable sounds of their passionate exchange—her breathy moans, his gruff grunts, the rhythmic slapping of wet skin. The lewd yet intimate sounds filled the entire room, layered over the faint beat Dez had left running in the background.

“Oh my god!” she said, burying her face in his chest from embarrassment. “I can’t believe that got recorded!”

Roman burst out laughing, clearly entertained by the whole situation. “I think it’s perfect,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He could see the wheels turning as she looked off to the side before shrugging her shoulders, her confidence returning.

“Ya know what? Fuck it. I’ma keep it.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, fighting the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Really? You ain’t worried about how it’ll look?” he teased.

Lyrica grinned, her fingers trailing up his chest. “It’s raw. It’s real. I might just build the whole track around it.”

He chuckled, gently tapping her backside. “As long as the world knows who you singin’ about.”

“Oh, they’ll know. You’re unforgettable, baby.” Her voice was a sultry purr as she kissed him. “It’ll be the most fire part of the song. People will be talking about it for months.”

And they did. 

A month later, ‘Can You Tell’ dropped, and as soon as the track hit the airwaves, the world exploded with speculation. Fans flooded Lyrica’s social media trying to figure out if the breathless sounds in the song were truly hers and Roman’s. Neither of them confirmed or denied it, letting the mystery add to the song’s allure.

The song went viral, and while the critics loved it, it was the rumors surrounding the track that kept the public hooked. One thing was certain, though: Lyrica and Roman had created a track that no one would forget. It was wild, passionate, and raw—just the way they both liked it.

But for Lyrica, the real triumph wasn’t the song’s success. It was the love that had inspired it, the beautiful, amazing man who had helped her heal and reminded her that she deserved the world.

THE END

Thoughts?

Shout out to the Anon who sent the idea for this a long time ago.

Credit to the owners of the pics and the gifs

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[revelboo]

I love your writing and I love that you’re having fun with it even more! It baffles me how good you are with coming up with different dynamics for each of your storylines and they all work so well. My favorite has to be tfp megs. Maybe it’s a guilty pleasure but something about the fake hating or the taboo codependency really scratches a specific itch on my brain.

I know it’s a very satisfying dynamic to write. This one is a bit earlier than I’d planned, but I wanted to get it down while it was in my head.

And you guys crack me up sometimes. I’ve seen one of y’all call Optimus ‘Pee Paw’ in reblog tags and now TFP Megs is ‘Space Crack Grandpa.’

Broken Arrow Pt 9

TFP Megatron x Reader

• You’re frozen against him, body arching into his where his denta are gripping you. He’s shocked you so badly you don’t know how to respond apparently. There’s a faint unease at your stillness, that maybe he finally pushed a bit too hard. It’s only when he bites just a tiny bit harder that you snap out of it and smack a palm against the side of his helm. “Get off, you jerk. Who bites someone?” And there’s the anger he enjoys so much. Laughing again as you try to shove his head away and he lets you, aware of your soft, warm hands gripping his helm, your face red and furious.

• And he’s laughing again, so messed up he finds your frustration hilarious as you keep your grip on his helm to keep him from trying to bite you again. That bare prick of his denta on you had broken through the shock of the not entirely unpleasant feel of that bite. “You shouldn’t do that crap,” you mutter, trying to maintain that frustrated anger, but worry creeping in to your tone. “At this rate, the Autobots won’t have to do anything. You’re so messed up, you’ll probably fall out of the ship and do it for them.”

• Those hands are unbelievably soft on him, fingers gripping his helm to try and keep his face out of biting range as you scowl up at him. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me,” he asks, grinning as he catches one of your wrists and feels you immediately try to tug loose as he considers nipping those little fingers. Wanting to just because he can, just to feel you shudder against him again.

• Trying to get your hand back, you plant the other one in the center of his chest. “Don’t flatter yourself,”you mutter. “I’d shove you myself if I could.” He’s not letting go, but there’s a new, calculating gleam in his optics that makes your skin prickle all over. Because on that stuff? There’s no telling where his processor just went or what he might do. Like rasp the claws of his other hand down his chest, those armor panels shifting to reveal something pulsing with light, something alive that pulls at you and you realize it’s his bare spark. ‘That’s how you end a Cybertronian,’ his words come back to you and you suddenly want loose. Want him to close those panels up, because seeing this is uncomfortably intimate. “Cut it out.”

• “Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart, pet?” Servos tightening on your wrist to force your hand closer to his spark, you suck in a sharp breath and try to lean away, eyes widening in alarm. “Don’t you still want to end me?” Knows he should stop, let go. Because you’re not playing along, there’s something very much like real panic in your eyes as you struggle against him, then shudder violently when his spark reacts. Reaching out a tendril of energy to meet your shaking fingers and now he’s frozen.

• Warmth spins through you at that contact, you can feel him as those tendrils of spark energy curl about your fingers. And you’re not fighting to get away anymore, you’re surrendering to that feeling of falling into him like plunging into deep, still waters that are churning violently just under the surface. Fractured sensations and memories spin you about, too chaotic and alive for you make any sense of. Just knowing that this is him, all of him. Drowning in him, feeling your heart struggling, missing beats. Hurting.

• That contact runs electric through him until he’s jerking you closer to strengthen it without even thinking. He’d only meant to make you angry, to provoke you, but as awareness washes over him in a warm fall like summer rain, he’s suddenly painfully sober. You’re only a human, but he can sense something there that’s not a spark, but close. Something even more achingly fragile than you are as your head falls forward against his shoulder and he can’t move even though he needs to break that contact, shove you away to save himself. You’re just a sparkless organic. And what he feels isn’t a spark, but something that might as well be one entangling with him, slipping soft as a sigh through him as his servos tighten against you. Realizing just how bad a mistake he’d just made.

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[baisemains]

After Hours

Melvika Week 2025 - Day 3: Drunk Sex (@melvikaweek2025)

mel medarda x sevika

word count: 3.2k

contains: modern au where they're both wives/coworkers/board members of a fortune 500 company, alcohol, smut obv, hotel sex, fingering, strap-on sex, top!mel, bottom!sev, dirty talk, praise kink, who else cheered

description: mel and sevika enjoy the open bar at a hotel conference they're forced to attend.

ao3 link | spotify playlist

mel medarda masterlist // sevika masterlist

Two figures sit in a dimly lit booth of an extravagant hotel bar, faces almost touching as they have a very intimate conversation. In the middle of the main crowd, you would never know it by the way they're interacting, too wrapped up in each other to notice the shuffle of people around them. Dragging a firm finger up the side of her wife's throat towards her jaw, Sevika grumbles into the minimal space between them in an annoyed tone.

"How much longer 'til we can head upstairs? If one more director comes up to me to ask about the budget for next year, I'm gonna tell them they can go fish for it when they're looking for his body."

"Easy tiger, it's the last night so they're all on edge." Taking a long sip of her champagne, Mel is feeling the effects of it, her skin heating up under her lover’s touch. "Just be polite and tell them we'll know more once we all get back to the office."

"I have. I lost count of how many times, I'm at my limit." Sevika snatches her whiskey from the table and tosses it back, her fourth or fifth of the evening.

"I just want to be alone with you, away from all of these creepy ass men..." She nuzzles into Mel's neck with purpose, trying her hardest to break down the woman's resolve.

They've scarcely had any private time this entire weekend, stuck in panels and 'team building' activities neither of them wanted to attend. Given no choice of taking part in this conference, they hoped they'd at least be able to escape at the end of each night to their shared room, but somehow, an unwanted dinner or drink with a coworker would pop up onto their schedule.

"I understand sweetheart, but I promise you, the second we can leave, we will."

Letting out a frustrated huff, Sevika wraps her right hand around Mel's waist and nuzzles into her shoulder, her head now comfortably laying on it. The alcohol in her system was making her desperate, much to her wife's amusement.

"I know...I just...I need you."

Even with her voice barely above a whisper, Mel can hear the whiney edge in it. With a twinkle in her eyes, the shorter woman's left hand slips onto Sevika's muscular thigh, gently caressing it. As she's about to murmur something explicit in her ear, she sees two men approaching their booth and has to course correct at the last second.

"Play nice with these two, and you'll get what you want when we head up. Okay?" Pressing a chaste kiss to a tan cheek, Mel turns away and faces the opening of the booth to the other woman's confusion. "What are you t–"

"Ms. Medarda, hello."

The first man smiles broadly at her, his beady eyes traveling down to drink her in. Unaware of the possessive hold she has on Sevika's thigh, his gaze pauses on her open-toed heels and exposed calf for a moment before he remembers his manners. Clearing his throat and adjusting his tie, he holds out a hand, which she gracefully shakes.

He introduces himself as the president of their main competitor, and Mel sneers. They've been trying to poach her for years, and though she knows this conversation will lead nowhere, she still has to endure it.

Once the other man introduces himself as the vice president, they seat themselves next to the couple unprompted, causing Sevika to lean forward as if to stop them. She freezes in place when a firm hand cups between her legs and squeezes. Surprised eyes flick to the side and catch a wink solely meant for her, as if to say Remember what I told you.

With an internal groan, Sevika leans back into the leather of the booth seat and moves to take another sip of her whiskey, which she now realizes is finished. She knows her wife well enough to recognize that look, biting her lower lip as she spreads her legs a bit more to adjust to the hand now gently rubbing her inner thigh.

Meanwhile, the two men have already begun to pitch their job offer, but neither Mel nor Sevika are truly listening. Once they conclude their pitch, Mel thanks them for their time and politely turns them down, sending them on their way with a practiced smile.

Once the men are out of earshot, Mel squeezes the spot between pleasantly warm legs, amused to find that the muscular woman's breathing is heavier than usual.

"You did very well." She leans over to whisper in Sevika's ear, hand still gently massaging the area. Her wife huffs at the praise, lowering her head and slowly shutting her eyes in an attempt to calm herself down. Despite the woman's reaction, Mel's smile only grows. She continues her ministrations for a few seconds longer, taking delight in the effect she's having on her wife. After a few seconds of listening to Sevika try to control her breathing, Mel retracts her hand, knowing she's teased her enough for the moment.

"Why don't you go get us a couple more drinks? I seem to have finished mine." She raises her empty glass in the air with a coy look, knowing she'll say yes.

An exasperated look has Mel holding back a laugh. "I suppose I could, my love." Sevika sighs before leaning over to place a kiss on her temple, standing up and plucking the empty glass from her outstretched hand.

"Wait here, I'll be right back."

Upon returning, the two women are back in their own world as they wait for the crowd to diminish, not wanting to look bad by leaving early. Teasing touches and looks build the anticipation in the air, and as the alcohol keeps flowing, their inhibitions lower further and further until they reach a breaking point.

Sevika is the first to crack, her brain now just a drunken mess of desire. She takes a glance around to see if anyone's watching them, eyes locking with a pair that match how she's feeling.

"Can we...can we leave now? I don't care anymore, I'm done."

Mel glances at the clock on the wall behind her wife and sees that they've been here almost an appropriate amount of time. She knows they'll come off as impolite but at this point, she throws caution to the wind. Exiting the booth, she interlocks her fingers with Sevika's and begins leading them through the thinning crowd, her gaze determined and the click of her heels echoing across the marble floors. Making it across the lobby and towards the elevators, she presses the button to call one with more force than necessary, breath shaky.

As they finally step in and the doors slide shut behind them, Sevika swiftly pushes Mel against the wall, her body pinning the other woman in place. Their faces centimeters apart, she whispers against her lips, desperate and low. "God, I need you."

Without a verbal response, Mel crashes their lips together, the force of the impact making Sevika groan. She pushes back, finding skin to paw at frantically, all the frustration and need from the past two days spilling out. Sevika's hand slides under Mel's knee and hoists it up around her hip, allowing her to slot perfectly between the shorter woman's parted thighs. Both women let out heavy breaths at the contact, unable to control themselves now that they were in private, away from prying eyes.

The ping announcing they've reached their floor forces them to separate for fear of a colleague seeing them in this position. Standing up and straightening out their clothes, they exit the elevator hand in hand and hastily make their way towards their room, Sevika pulling out the plastic keycard and pushing it into the slot above the handle. As soon as the door unlocks, the taller of the two forces it open with her shoulder before pulling her wife in, hands groping whatever skin she can reach.

The tables are quickly turned once Mel walks them over to the king sized bed and gently pushes Sevika back onto it with a bite of her plump bottom lip. “You were so patient at dinner, darling. I think you deserve a reward.”

Sevika lets out a desperate whine at the words, watching Mel's form move to hover over her. The heat in her gut grows stronger, desperate and demanding.

"Please."

Her voice cracks, but she's too far gone to care, wanting nothing more than for her wife to take control. Capturing lips covered in dark lipstick, Mel swallows a moan that escapes into her mouth, tongue languidly tracing over the wet skin she tastes. A hand finds the small of Mel's back, pulling her closer to deepen the contact. Any remnants of control Sevika had at the onset are completely gone, now succumbing to the haze overtaking her mind.

As fast as the kiss begins, it ends without warning as Mel pulls back and stands up before walking over to one of the suitcases laid on the floor under the window. Propping herself up onto her elbows to see what her wife is looking for, shuffling noises and a satisfied hum are all she recognizes. When the younger woman finally turns around, a pulse begins beating between Sevika's legs as the object is revealed. In her hands are a black and gold harness and matching purple dildo, the custom toys Mel commissioned for their last anniversary.

Upon hearing a gasp, Mel's signature smirk appears, her tone teasing as she walks back over. "Did you think I would forget? I had a feeling this weekend would be long, and I think we both deserve a reward."

She gets to the edge of the bed and places a hand on the side of Sevika's face, tilting it up. "Now, my love, will you be good and undress for me?"

Nodding silently, Sevika sits up, her expression hungry as her eyes roam over the woman standing in front of her. Without a second thought, she slips her suit jacket off and begins to unbutton her shirt, hands slightly shaking in anticipation. Once her shirt is removed, the view of her toned torso leaves Mel a bit flustered, a warm feeling pooling in her core. Despite having seen it countless times, it's still a very impressive sight. Watching the muscles in her wife's stomach flex, the shorter woman takes in the gorgeous sight without comment as she lays the toys out on the bed.

Sevika stands and begins to unbutton her pants, the action taking much longer to complete than it should. The alcohol coursing through her and the look being leveled her way were affecting her motor skills, making it near impossible to perform a simple task. Once they're finally off, she steps out of them, clad in nothing but her black sports bra and matching boxers.

"Those too." Mel smirks at the glossy look in her lover's eyes as she does what she's told, hastily discarding the remaining fabric. Once she stands bare, physique rivaling gods themselves, the shorter woman approaches, running a velvety finger over her chest before pushing her onto the bed. Sevika's breath hitches in her throat as her back hits the covers, the cold air against her now exposed skin adding to the sensations wracking through her body. She opens her mouth to beg, to plead, but only a soft exhale makes its way out as Mel begins situating the harness, gaze raking over the woman laying in front of her.

"Spread your legs for me, darling."

Doing as she's told, Sevika lets her thighs fall open to reveal the sticky mess between them, breathing already picking up as her head flops back onto the bed. Mel doesn’t even attempt to suppress the low moan she lets out at the sight, crawling onto the bed and slotting herself between toned thighs. Her breath fans over the other woman's lips as she whispers, "I want to ruin you."

"Then do it."

Voice deep and filled with want, Sevika moves a hand from its place in the bedsheet and tangles it in intricate braids, pulling her down to finally connect their lips once more. The kiss is rough and desperate, neither woman willing to yield to the other. Teeth, tongues, and wandering hands battle for control as Mel begins to grind down into the body underneath her. The pressure causes Sevika to break the kiss with a gasp.

"Please...Please I-I need to feel you."

The words were strained, begging and impatient. Mel's favorite version of her. Between the mess of a woman beneath her and the haze of the liquor from earlier, heat courses through Mel's veins as she teasingly slides the strap between dripping folds.

Sevika lets out a guttural moan at the contact, her hips canting up in a desperate attempt to be touched properly. "Baby...please, I can't..." Her words turn to breathy whimpers as she tries to hold herself back, needing more.

Mel decides to take mercy on the woman, sliding her free hand between taut thighs and gathering as much wetness as she can. Making sure to keep eye contact, she then lowers it and begins stroking the toy to cover it in her wife's slick. Her eyes almost roll back at the sight, the woman below her mewling like an animal. "You're killing me."

Sevika is reduced to small whimpers and whines, her eyes never leaving the hand gripping the strap, desperate to feel it inside her.

"I know, darling, I know." Mel knows how to keep her right on the edge, giving just enough to not push her over.

With one last look to make sure the toy is sufficiently coated, she removes her hand and moves it to spread Sevika's leg wider, the other still holding down a strong thigh. After pressing a gentle kiss to a damp forehead, Mel thrusts forward and fills the woman under her to the hilt.

“Fuck!”

Sevika’s hands claw at her shoulder as she sets a sloppy pace, too aroused to care. Babbling incoherently, the short haired woman rocks her hip up to push the dildo deeper, feeling it hit that sensitive spot inside her. At the same time, Mel pushes down, the back of the strap rubbing against her clit deliciously. She lets out a garbled moan, ignoring the rational part of her brain that tells her they have neighbors.

Their breaths start to sync, almost heaving with the exertion. Mel feels her own muscles start to clench in anticipation, but she holds herself back. This moment was for the glorious angel underneath her.

She begins to pick up speed, rolling her hips with a purpose. Her free hand finds Sevika's and interlocks their fingers, pinning it next to her head. The dark skinned woman looks down into glassy eyes, pupils blown wide from arousal. Mel's gaze is locked on the features of her lover, searching for every little sign of pleasure. Each moan and gasp is an indication of a job well done, and every whine or shudder only encourages her to push further, to wreck the other woman beyond recognition.

The way Sevika's hair sticks to her sweat slicked forehead, or how her toned muscles ripple with every jerk of her body makes Mel light-headed, filled with a possessive desire to keep her like this. Hers and hers alone.

"You look so beautiful like this. Utterly wrecked for me, aren't you, my love?"

Sevika struggles to form a response, too lost to the sensations coursing through her. The words fail to come out, replaced with unintelligible sounds and guttural moans. Mel takes it as an affirmation, knowing her so well by now that silence has only one reason.

"Always so loud and impatient. Let me hear how close you are."

Mel's free hand moves to her hair and grips a handful, pulling it taut and forcing her head back to expose more skin, leaving a trail of marks behind. "Look at that, I can feel you squeezing around me. So desperate for me to fuck you."

Her filthy statements are answered with a moan, the sight of her wife being completely wrecked only spurring her on. Mel knows it won't be long before Sevika falls apart completely. Her grip only tightens, knowing just how much pressure the woman under her can take. "I can tell how bad you need it, my love."

Sevika's whines grow in volume and frequency, her body shaking. She's right at the edge, Mel can tell. "Please, please, I-"

In one swift move, the younger of the two places her hands under Sevika's thighs, pulling them onto her shoulders and leaning forward, reaching deeper inside at this new angle.

Sevika's eyes fly open, feeling the toy push against her most sensitive spot and making her clench reflexively. With her knees now pressed into her chest and Mel practically bending her in half, nothing but incoherent moans and whimpers escape her, mouth open in a silent scream. She's teetering on the precipice, toes curled, and back arched. All she needs is a slight push. Reaching a shaking hand down, Mel begins rubbing tight circles around her puffy clit, slick flying all around.

"Oh, oh god-" Sevika gasps out, voice strangled.

Her body is wracked with shivers, every nerve in her body on fire. The tension becomes unbearable, and her vision starts to go hazy. Finally, her body seizes up and then releases, a loud moan tearing from her throat. Cum gushes out onto the dildo, soaking it as Mel continues pumping in and out, guiding Sevika through her orgasm.

After what feels like hours the waves of pleasure finally subside, leaving her breathless and her limbs heavy. For a few long moments, she just lays there, eyes unfocused and mind empty. Then she feels movement and her attention draws back to the woman above her as she kisses up and down a trembling thigh.

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart."

Mel gently removes the harness and sets the toys aside, settling down next to her blissed-out wife. She wraps a slender arm around her waist, pulling her in and leaving soft kisses wherever she can reach. Sevika still hasn't responded, content to lay there with half-lidded eyes and deep breaths. She curls into Mel's embrace, nuzzling into her and hiding her face in her chest. Mel chuckles fondly, threading her fingers through short locks.

"Don't go falling asleep on me, now. We need to get cleaned up."

A low grumble comes from the woman in her arms, reluctant to move from the comfort of her wife's presence. "Can't we just do it in the morning?"

Mel only chuckles. "How about in five minutes? We've got an early flight, remember?"

That finally pulls Sevika from her blissed-out stupor, letting out a small huff. "Fine."

Even though it's a half-hearted agreement, she manages to get her limbs to cooperate as she stands up a short while later and makes her way over to the bathroom, a euphoric grin still plastered to her face.

[lila-lou]

✨His true fate - Part 1/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, tough topics

Word Count: 4167

A/N: Alright. I'm only going to write this once. Danneel doesn't come off well in this story. She's pretty much described as the devil himself. She does and says things that are absolutely awful. In this Story she's pretty much the biggest bitch. I don't want to hear any complaints because it's just a story. Fiction. No hate towards anyone. So, that being said, I hope you enjoy reading it.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Jared parked in front of the airport in Austin, his fingers tapping restlessly on the steering wheel. It had been too long since he had seen Jensen outside of the conventions. This visit was different, just for spending time together, no panels, no crowds. As he waited, Jared couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. It was the first time Jensen was visiting him after he moved away from Austin, a chance for them to catch up without the chaos of their usual meet-ups.

As Jared watched the stream of passengers disembarking from the plane, his mind drifted back to the rocky path that had led them to this moment. Their friendship had weathered its fair share of storms, strained by distance, conflicting schedules, and the pressures of their respective careers. Yet, despite the challenges, they had somehow found their way back to each other. It had taken time, effort, and countless late-night conversations, but slowly, they had begun to rebuild what they had once thought lost.

This weekend, as they celebrated Jared's birthday together, it felt like a new chapter unfolding. Jensen's decision to fly to Austin, despite his busy filming and convention schedule, spoke volumes about the strength of their renewed bond. As Jared caught sight of Jensen emerging from the crowd, a genuine smile spread across his face, washing away any lingering doubts or tensions. This weekend was about reconnecting, about rediscovering the camaraderie that had always defined their relationship.

Jensen opened the trunk and unceremoniously tossed his suitcase inside before collapsing into the passenger seat with a heavy sigh. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, looking every bit as exhausted and worn-out as Jared had feared.

"Wow, someone looks like they've been through the wringer", Jared teased, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he started the car.

Jensen shot him a mock glare, his eyes heavy with fatigue. "Thanks, Jared. Always great to get a warm welcome", he quipped, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice despite his worn-out demeanor.

"Just calling it like I see it, man", Jared chuckled, pulling out of the parking spot and heading towards the exit. "But seriously, you look like you could use a week-long vacation on a deserted island".

"Tell me about it", Jensen muttered, sinking back into the seat and closing his eyes for a moment. "Filming has been brutal lately. I swear, I'm starting to feel every single one of my thirty-something years".

Jared couldn't help but chuckle at Jensen's dramatics. "Thirty-something? More like ancient, old man", he teased, earning himself a playful shove from Jensen.

"Hey, watch it, Padalecki. I may be old, but I can still kick your ass", Jensen retorted with a smirk, the weariness momentarily forgotten as the car with little laughter.

As Jared merged onto the highway, the gentle hum of the car filled the silence between them. Glancing over at Jensen, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more going on beneath the surface.

“So, it’s just the filming that’s got you looking like you’ve aged a decade overnight?”, Jared ventured, keeping his tone light but his concern evident.

Jensen let out a heavy sigh, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. “Yeah, filming’s been intense, but that’s not all of it”, he admitted, his voice tinged with resignation.

Jared knew better than to push too hard, but he couldn’t ignore the sense of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. “Is everything okay at home?”, he asked tentatively, knowing full well the delicate balance Jensen was trying to maintain.

Jensen’s jaw tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. “Yeah, everything’s fine”, he replied, his tone betraying the lie.

But Jared wasn’t about to let him off that easily. “Come on, man. You don’t have to pretend with me”, he pressed gently, his concern outweighing any discomfort he felt broaching the topic.

Jensen hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “Things… haven’t been great”, he admitted, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap.

Jared could sense Jensen's internal struggle, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. Before he could push him further, however, Jensen seemed to retreat, throwing up his defenses like a shield.

"Hey, forget I said anything, okay?", Jensen mumbled, his voice barely audible over the sound of the car's engine. "Let's just focus on having a good time this weekend. I could really use a break… from everything".

Jared nodded, respecting Jensen's boundaries even as his heart ached for his friend's pain. "Yeah, of course", he replied, his tone gentle yet supportive. "We'll make sure this weekend is all about relaxing and having fun. No drama, no stress".

Jensen managed a small, grateful smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks. I appreciate it", he said quietly, a hint of vulnerability slipping through his usual facade of strength.

As they continued down the highway, the weight of their unspoken conversations hung heavy in the air, but for now, they both agreed to set aside their worries.

As the miles flew by, a more simple conversation flowed easily between Jared and Jensen, the tension of their earlier exchange dissipating with each passing moment. It didn't even take 30 minutes until Jared pulled into the familiar driveway of his family home.

"Home sweet home", Jared announced with a grin, turning off the engine and casting a sideways glance at Jensen. "Welcome back to Casa Padalecki".

Jensen chuckled, the weariness in his eyes momentarily replaced by a spark of excitement. "Thanks, man. It's good to be here", he replied, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As Jared and Jensen climbed the front porch steps, they were met with the eager faces of Tom and Shep peeking out from behind the screen door. The boys' eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of Jensen standing there, and their excitement was palpable.

"Uncle Jensen!", Tom exclaimed, darting forward to wrap his arms around Jensen in a tight hug, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

Shep followed suit, his smaller frame joining in the embrace as he grinned up at Jensen. "We didn't think you were really coming!", he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and joy.

Jensen chuckled warmly, returning their hugs with equal affection. "Well, here I am", he replied, tousling their hair playfully. "I couldn't miss the chance to hang out with you two".

As they stepped inside the house, laughter and chatter filled the air, the boys buzzing with excitement at the prospect of spending time with their favorite ´uncle´. Jared couldn't help but smile at the sight, grateful for the bond that had formed between Jensen and his sons over the years. With Jensen back in their lives, even just for the weekend, he knew that memories would be made and cherished for years to come.

As Tom and Shep dashed off to explore the backyard, their laughter echoing through the house, Jensen turned to Jared with a curious expression.

"So, where's Gen and mini Gen?", Jensen asked, a playful twinkle in his eye as he referred to Jared's wife and daughter.

Jared glanced at the clock on the wall, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "They're out shopping", he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. "Looks like it's just us guys for now".

Jensen chuckled, nodding in understanding. "Ah, a little father-son bonding time, huh?", he remarked.

"Yeah, something like that", Jared replied, his gaze drifting toward the backyard where the sounds of his sons' laughter drifted in through the open door.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the backyard, Jared and Jensen found themselves sitting side by side, beers in hand, watching as Tom and Shep played with the chickens.

Jared took a sip of his beer, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "So, how are the kids?", he asked, his tone casual but genuine.

Jensen's smile faltered slightly at the mention of his own children, a flicker of sadness crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a forced grin. "They're good", he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "Busy with school and all that".

Jared nodded, though he could sense there was more to the story than Jensen was letting on. He had seen firsthand how Jensen had thrown himself into his work, often using it as a means of escape from the troubles at home.

"Must be tough juggling all that work and family", Jared remarked sympathetically, knowing all too well the pressures of balancing a career with family responsibilities.

"Yeah, it's… still challenging", Jensen admitted, his gaze drifting off into the distance. "But hey, enough about me. How's Gen and the kids? They keeping you on your toes?".

Jared chuckled, grateful for the diversion. "Always", he replied with a fond smile. "But wouldn't have it any other way".

As they sat together in the fading light, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air, Jared couldn't shake the feeling that there was still so much left unsaid between them.

As the evening wore on and the sky darkened, Gen and Odette returned home, their arrival greeted with hugs and laughter from Jensen. They exchanged pleasantries and caught up on each other's lives, the warmth of their conversation filling the air.

However, as the hour grew late and the kids were ushered off to bed by Gen, a sense of tranquility settled over the house. Now alone in the quiet of the evening, Jared and Jensen found themselves relaxing on the porch once more, the glow of their beers casting long shadows in the dim light.

But their peace was short-lived as Jensen's phone rang, breaking the serene atmosphere with its shrill tone. With a frustrated groan, Jensen glanced at the caller ID, his annoyance evident.

"Danneel?", Jared asked quietly, his brow furrowing with concern as he watched Jensen quickly silence the call.

Jensen nodded, his jaw clenched in frustration. "Yeah", he muttered, his voice heavy with irritation. "Probably just checking in to make sure I'm not having too much fun".

Jared could sense the tension radiating from his friend, the weight of Jensen's strained marriage casting a shadow over their evening.

Jared let out a heavy sigh, the weight of unspoken words pressing heavily on his chest. Finally, unable to contain his thoughts any longer, he spoke up, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and concern.

"Jensen, can I ask you something?", Jared began, his gaze fixed on his friend. "Why won't you just finally leave her?".

The question hung in the air, laden with the weight of years of silence and suppressed emotions. Jared knew it was a delicate subject, one that had been tiptoed around for far too long, but he couldn't stand by any longer and watch his friend suffer in silence.

Jensen's expression hardened, a flicker of defiance crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a forced smile. "It's complicated. You know that", he replied evasively, his voice betraying the turmoil raging beneath the surface.

"But is it really?", Jared pressed, his tone gentle yet insistent. "I mean, I get that there are always reasons, but at what point do you say enough is enough?".

Jensen's jaw tightened, his gaze drifting off into the distance as he wrestled with his inner demons. "I wish it were that simple", he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you have no idea what she's capable of".

Jared's heart ached at the pain etched into Jensen's features, the deep-rooted fear and resignation that seemed to consume him. But he refused to back down, knowing that sometimes, the hardest conversations were the ones that needed to be had the most.

"I know it's fucking scary", Jared admitted softly, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Jensen's shoulder. "But you don't have to face it alone, you know. We're here for you, no matter what".

Jensen's grip tightened around his beer bottle, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "You don't get it, Jared", he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. "If I try to leave, she'll make sure I never see my kids again. She'll ruin me. In every fucking way possible".

Jared's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "And what do you think she's doing right now? Keeping you trapped, suffocating you with her control", he retorted, his voice tinged with anger. "She's already ruining you, Jensen. Can't you see that?".

Jensen's jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to find the words to express the turmoil raging within him. "I can't risk losing my kids, my image, my career", he finally admitted, his voice choked with emotion. "I can't".

Jared's heart ached for his friend, the pain etched into every line of his face. But he refused to let Jensen succumb to the fear and manipulation any longer.

"You're stronger than that, Jensen", Jared said firmly, his voice filled with conviction.

Jared's frustration softened into determination. "Listen to me, Jensen. You need to stop letting her control you", he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "You just need to get yourself a damn good lawyer".

Jensen's gaze flickered with uncertainty, the weight of Jared's words sinking in. "But what if it's not enough?", he whispered, his voice filled with doubt.

"It's a start", Jared replied, his tone resolute. "And you're not alone in this. We'll find you the best lawyer, one who'll fight tooth and nail to make sure she won´t ruin your life more than she already did".

As they sat in the quiet of the backyard, the weight of their conversation hanging heavy in the air, Jensen felt a glimmer of hope stir within him. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness that had consumed him for so long.

But then, with a heavy sigh, Jensen's resolve wavered as he confessed, "I can't take it anymore, Jared. Every time I'm home, I feel like I'm suffocating. I drown myself in conventions just to get away from her. And when I am home, I'm mostly drunk just to be able to deal with her".

Jared's heart sank at the raw honesty in Jensen's words, the pain and despair evident in every syllable. But he refused to let his friend continue down this destructive path.

"We'll figure it out, Jensen," Jared said firmly, his voice filled with conviction.

Jared knew how bad Jensen really was. For years he could do nothing but watch as Danneel destroyed his best friend. Publicly humiliated him, manipulated him and mentally abused him. She gradually destroyed his self-confidence, his friendships and caused him to isolate himself from everyone. Jared wanted nothing more than to finally see his best friend happy again. Truly happy. But with Danneel and her toxic personality by his side, that wouldn't happen. So he hoped to use the time they had together well enough to somehow get through to Jensen.

As Jensen made his way to the guestroom an hour later, the weight of the evening's conversation hung heavy on his shoulders, his mind consumed by a whirlwind of emotions and stress. Each step felt like a burden, the familiar sense of suffocation creeping in as he retreated from the warmth of Jared's home to the solitude of his temporary sanctuary.

Slipping into the guestroom, Jensen closed the door behind him with a heavy sigh, the darkness of the room enveloping him like a shroud. He sank onto the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to quiet the storm raging within him.

But despite his best efforts, the memories and fears clawed their way to the surface, threatening to overwhelm him with their intensity.

And as he lay there in the silence of the night, the weight of his burdens pressing down upon him, Jensen couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be a way out of the darkness that had consumed him for so long. But for now, all he could do was try to find solace in the quiet of the night, hoping that somehow, someway, he would find the strength to face another day.

The next morning, Jared and Gen bustled around the kitchen, the savory aroma of breakfast filling the air as they worked together with Odette by their side. The sound of laughter and chatter filled the room, a stark contrast to the heaviness that had hung over the house the night before.

As they set the table with plates of pancakes and fresh fruit, Jared glanced at Gen with a playful smirk. "Think Jensen will be able to handle waking up to the smell of your cooking?", he teased, earning a chuckle from his wife.

Gen rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of amusement in her expression. "He better be ready for the Padalecki family breakfast experience", she replied with a grin, her culinary skills on full display.

Just then, Tom bounded into the kitchen, his energy infectious as he eagerly awaited his next task. "Can I go wake up Uncle Jensen now, Dad?", he asked, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Jared nodded with a smile, ruffling Tom's hair affectionately. "Go for it, buddy. Just try not to scare him too much", he replied, unable to contain his own amusement at the thought of Jensen's reaction to being roused from his slumber.

With a mischievous grin, Tom dashed off to carry out his mission, leaving Jared and Gen to share a knowing look.

As Tom made his way towards the guestroom, his excitement bubbling over, he couldn't help but feel a mischievous urge creeping in. Quietly, he slipped inside, tiptoeing towards Jensen's bed with a grin plastered on his face.

With a sly glance towards Jensen, still lost in slumber, Tom couldn't resist the temptation. He settled himself down beside Jensen, his heart racing with anticipation. And then, with a mischievous gleam in his eye, he let out a loud fart, breaking the silence of the room with a resounding blast.

Jensen jolted awake with a start, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at Tom in disbelief. "What the…", he sputtered, his voice trailing off as he tried to process what had just happened.

Tom couldn't contain his laughter, doubling over with mirth as he reveled in the chaos he had created. "Gotcha, Uncle Jensen!", he exclaimed between giggles, unable to contain his excitement at the successful prank.

Jensen instantly grimaced, his hand flying to cover his nose as the pungent odor assaulted his senses. "Oh, man, Tom! What did you eat?", he exclaimed, his voice muffled by his hand as he tried to escape the noxious fumes.

Tom doubled over with laughter, barely able to catch his breath between fits of giggles. "Sorry, Uncle Jensen!", he managed to squeak out between laughs.

Jensen waved his hand in front of his face, desperately trying to dispel the stench that hung in the air. "You're absolutely your dad's kid", he grumbled, his tone laced with both amusement and exasperation. "Damn, that fucking stinks!".

Again Jensen waved his hand in front of his face, still trying to rid the room of the lingering smell. "Alright, alright, Tom", he said with a chuckle, trying to mask his amusement. "Why don't you go air out that stinking butt of yours while I get dressed?".

Tom grinned mischievously, his laughter echoing through the room as he bounded out of the guestroom, leaving Jensen to shake his head in amusement.

Dressed and somehow awake, Jensen made his way towards the kitchen, the promise of breakfast and laughter drawing him forward.

Jensen took a seat at the table, a grin playing at the corners of his lips as he recounted Tom's prank to Jared. "You won't believe what your son just did", he chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

Jared raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Oh? What did he do this time?", he asked with a smirk, already bracing himself for another one of Tom's antics.

"He let out the loudest fart I've ever heard right next to my face", Jensen replied, his laughter infectious as he recounted the incident. "I swear, that kid is just like his old man".

Jared couldn't help but laugh at the image of his son terrorizing Jensen with his infamous flatulence. "Well, I guess he takes after me in more ways than one", he quipped, a proud smile spreading across his face.

Shep and Odette's laughter filled the room, their amusement at Tom's antics contagious as they teased their brother relentlessly. Gen couldn't help but shake her head affectionately at their sibling banter.

Turning to Jared, Gen's smile widened as she made a suggestion. "Hey, do you think you and Jensen could handle getting the drinks for tonight's party?", she asked, her tone hopeful as she looked between her husband and his friend.

Jared grinned at the idea, nodding eagerly. "Of course", he replied, excitement lighting up his eyes. "Consider it our mission. We'll make sure we have plenty of drinks to keep the party going all night long".

Jensen nodded in agreement. "You can count on us", he chimed in.

As they made plans for the evening's festivities, the anticipation of the birthday party ahead filled the room with a sense of excitement.

Two hours later, Jensen found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Jared's car, the hum of the engine and the rhythm of the road soothing his frayed nerves. They were on their way to the next liquor store, their mission to stock up for Jared's birthday party well underway.

Jared glanced over at Jensen with a grin, the excitement of the evening ahead evident in his eyes. "Ready to make a dent in the liquor aisle?", he joked, his tone light as he navigated through the traffic.

Jensen chuckled, a sense of camaraderie washing over him as he settled back into his seat. "You bet", he replied. "Just promise me we won't end up with more beer than we can carry".

Jared laughed, shaking his head at his friend's jest. "No promises", he teased, though there was a hint of mischief in his tone.

As Jared disappeared in search of the restroom, Jensen remained leaning against the overflowing shopping cart, his expression a mix of boredom and introspection. With each passing moment, he found himself sinking deeper into his own thoughts. Again the weight of his troubles pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at him from within, the nagging sense that he was trapped in a life that no longer brought him joy. Despite the excitement of Jared's birthday party looming on the horizon, Jensen couldn't escape the shadows of his own turmoil that threatened to engulf him at every turn.

Lost in his thoughts, Jensen barely noticed the bustle of shoppers around him as they navigated the crowded aisles of the liquor store. His mind was a whirlwind of memories and regrets, a tangled web of emotions that left him feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Lost in his thoughts, Jensen barely registered the collision until he felt the impact against his back. Startled, he stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance as he turned to see what had caused the disturbance.

"Hey, fucking watch where you're going!", he grumbled irritably, his frustration evident in his tone as he glanced over his shoulder.

But as he turned around, ready to unleash a torrent of curses, Jensen's words died on his lips as he met your gaze.

"Sorry", you apologized quickly, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you struggled to regain your composure and the bottles of whiskey in your arms. "I didn't see you there".

Jensen's irritation faded, his annoyance evaporating as he took in your apologetic expression. "It's okay", he replied more softly. "No harm done".

———————————

A/N: I wanted to give you a little preview. I don't know exactly when it will continue. If you want to be tagged, please let me know <3 It's going to be a damn long story, that's for sure, lol.

Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 2

[atthediscowithoutpanic]

How to Save a Life Prequel

A small look back into how Jack and the reader started to pull each other closer.

18+ minors do not engage.

Dr. Jack Abbott x reader

Read chapter one here: Ch 1

warnings: trauma discussed in the episodes of the Pitt, heavy mental health conversations, suicidal ideation conversations, smut eventually, slow burn. I will add more as they come.

You had been coming to Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, making visits to your clients for a while now. During the time between visits, it felt right to go downstairs to the cafeteria to get some overpriced coffee. When you got up to the register to pay, a voice came from behind, “Janice, scan her coffee with my food.” Turning around, you found Dr. Abbott paying for the coffee. Chuckling and shaking your head at Janice the cashier, you tell Dr. Abbott Thank you for the kind gesture and ask how much to pay him back. “Don’t worry about it,” he mentioned casually as he trailed behind you back to the elevator. After reaching past two out of three floors, all of a sudden, the elevator powered down and came to a halt. 

“Is it normal to do this?” Concerned you asked Dr. Abbott, thankfully, it was only the two of you in the elevator. All he could do was glance up from his phone and grunt. Both motionless for the next five minutes as if willing the elevator to go, to no prevail. Then, you notice him start to push on the door and hit the call button on the panel. “I would get comfortable we will probably be here a while.” he had such a casual tone about it still, not sure if that is his level of emotion all the time or just trying to keep you calm. 

As the air became stale in the elevator you took off your sweater, and blouse, leaving yourself in just a tank top, and slacks, sitting with your back against the corner of the elevator. Jack was sitting on the other side of the corner, after scarfing down his food in the first twenty minutes after offering you some ten different times. Not even an hour in, you started asking him questions, trying to get him to open up, “Are you from the area? Do you have any siblings? How long did you serve in the military?” He glanced at you but never answered any of the questions at first. Then. after rolling your clothes to make a pillow and laying down a bit to get comfortable, “I’m from about a couple hours away, and I have two sisters. How did you know I was military?I never told you about that.” 

“Oh come on Dr. Abbott, it is not that hard to clock the military background, the short hair, the precision, the way you carry yourself it’s like a neon sign.” chuckling, your laugh was contagious, making him smile a bit. “Jack, you can call me Jack.” Another hour passed, he was slowly some what opening up to the questions she was asking, and made a note that she appears to not like silence. Quietly he asked the question most people end up asking, “Why do you work in behavioral health?” “Life led me to it,” 

His phone had died in the process, trying to keep up with questions and reviews from residents and interns, and as you were approaching hour three in the elevator, you saw that it seemed like someone was pulling the doors open. You handed your phone to Jack to help shine a light towards them so that they could see that you were down there. Finally, firefighters pulled you both out, sweaty and over it at this point. Standing in front of the elevator, Jack gives you your phone back and tells you, “Thanks for the conversation.” You open your phone up to check messages and see your contacts app was pulled up, and he had put his phone number in without saying a word. 

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Practice Makes Perfect

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Actress!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: none, nervous!jensen that's super cute

Request by anon: Hey, can i request a series or one shot with Jensen x actress/singer reader, where the reader is very famous actress and singer that work in Marvel as Black Widow, Game of Thrones, TVDU, etc and Jensen loved her and always are talking about her in set without knowing that she is Gen Padalecki best fiends and Jared Padalecki friends and Jared tell her all Jensen said about her so she was casted as a new character who is Dean love interest without him knowing and in the end they end together and have kids?

Summary: You're a famous actress that's been in lots of movies and TV shows. Jensen has a huge crush on you and doesn't know that the newest person to be hired onto Supernatural is none other than you.

Square Filled: what if (2022) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: just pretend that each of the shows/movies she's been in took place one after the other instead of going on at the exact same time.

x

Jared and Jensen have a few minutes alone before their panel. Jared is snacking on whatever they provided them with while Jensen is sitting on the couch browsing on his phone. Jared has his wife on FaceTime as he is stuffing his face, and she laughs at the food dripping from his mouth.

“Baby, why can’t you eat normally?”

“What? I’m hungry,” he says, more food spewing from his mouth.

“Our kids eat better than you,” she chuckles.

“Jen, tell her I eat normally.” Jared turns to his friend but Jensen isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. He has one of his Airpods in watching a video. “Are you guys coming to the panel?”

“Yeah, we’re just exploring right now.”

“Hi, Daddy!” Odette smiles and jumps into the frame.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Say bye!”

All three of his kids say bye just before Gen hangs up on him. Jared finishes eating his snack before walking over to his friend. He takes a seat next to him to see what video he’s watching and smirks when he sees you on the screen.

“So, what do you want to do when the panel is over? What section of the convention do you want to visit?” Jared asks knowing Jensen isn’t listening.

He’s too invested in the video of you doing press for your new Marvel movie. You play the elusive Black Widow in all of the Marvel films, and you just got done filming your own solo movie. You’ve done some press for the movie even before it comes out to prepare people for what to expect and things of that nature.

“You’re obsessed with her,” Jared chuckles.

“Shut up, I’m not,” Jensen barks. “I’m just an admirer of her movies.”

“You have posters of her locked away in your collection.”

Jensen slaps his friend on the chest and continues watching the video. It’s true, Jensen has a major crush on you not only for Black Widow but for every role you’ve ever done. You’ve played Sansa Stark in Game of Thrones, Katherine and Elena in The Vampire Diaries, and so much more. You’re such a talented person that acting is like second nature to you. You can do almost any role you’ve ever landed, and you’ve won a lot of awards for it which you’re proud of.

“Damn, look at her. She’s gorgeous,” Jensen says with metaphorical hearts in his eyes. Jared laughs and Jensen shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I have a major crush on this woman. What are you gonna do about it?”

“We’re about to do a panel. Come on.”

Jensen and Jared get ready to go out on stage. All their fans cheer for them when they make an appearance. Jared scans the audience to see his wife there with her phone pointed at him. He nods once and turns to Jensen knowing his wife is getting this on video.

“Alright, any questions?” Jared asks. A lot of hands go up in the air, and he points to the person whom Gen gestures. “What’s your name?”

“Elisa. I’m such a huge fan of both of you. My question is for Jensen. I watched a video you did talking about the actress Y/N. She just finished her movie Black Widow. Is it true you have a crush on her?”

Everyone cheers for this question but quiets down to give Jensen an opportunity to answer. His entire face reddens at the question and becomes extremely conscious of what he’s wearing, what he’s saying, and how he’s behaving as if you’re in the room.

“Wow, there’s a lot to unpack here. Look, she’s gorgeous, I’m not gonna lie. If she were standing in front of me now, I don’t think I’d form complete sentences. So, yes, I have a crush on her.”

Everyone laughs at how shy he’s becoming, and Gen looks at the person she’s on FaceTime with.

“He’s so cute,” you chuckle through the screen. “Very charming.”

You’re a really good friend of the Padalecki family. You met Gen through a non-profit organization she was funding a while back and became fast friends with her. She and Jared welcomed you into their family immediately but it was never known to Jensen that you knew them.

“Just wait until you meet him in person.”

“Isn’t it true that there is still an opening for that female character on their show?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m in between projects right now. I’d be happy to audition if you want to bring that to Jared.”

“I’ll have him hook you up,” Gen smirks.

“Is that Y/N?” Shep asks and forces his face into the frame.

“Hey, Shep,” you grin.

Supernatural is about to start filming its eleventh season which means the director is desperate to fill the role of Dean’s love interest. Jared brought you up as an option, the director had you audition, and you were offered the part before leaving the building to go home. Jensen still doesn’t know that you were the one who was offered the role, just that the position had been filled.

“Isn’t it a bit suspicious that we haven’t met this new person?” Jensen asks.

“Talk to the director, dude.” Jared gets a call from the director and answers it with a smile. “Hey. Are you here? … Perfect. I’ll be right there.”

“Whose that?”

“Gen is here. I gotta go. I’ll be right back.”

Jared leaves before Jensen can ask any other questions. He meets up with you and the director who is waiting for him on the other side of the set.

“Jared!” you grin and give him a friendly hug. “Working together is going to be so fun.”

You’re not sure how long you’ll be on the show, but you hope it’s going to last years.

“Is he ready?”

“He’s practicing his lines right now.”

Jared escorts you to the main set where Jensen is. He’s already in his Dean clothes since they are scheduled to film right now. His back is turned to you when you enter the room so you think this is the perfect opportunity to scare him. He is holding a prop gun and muttering his lines when you jump in front of him. He yelps and drops the gun as you let out an infectious laugh.

“What?” he stutters when he sees you.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you grin and hold out your hand for him. Jensen is a stuttering mess but shakes your hand nonetheless. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“She’s going to play your new love interest,” Jared says and slaps him on the back lightly.

“It’s going to be so much fun working with you.”

“Yeah, same here,” Jensen manages to get out. “Excuse me for a second.” He brings Jared off to the side to talk to him privately. “What the hell? Did you know about this?”

“Yeah, she’s a family friend.”

“How did I not know this?”

“I’m good at keeping secrets when I want to,” he chuckles.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be in the same room as her.”

“You’re welcome,” Jared smirks and pats his back.

Jared walks away just as you approach Jensen.

“I hope you’re okay with me being here.”

“More than okay,” he smiles shyly. I love your movies. You’re an amazing actress.”

“Thank you,” you smile. “I love this show. Dean just so happens to be my favorite character.”

That makes Jensen blush. Over the next couple of months, you’ve been filming with the boys as much as you can. It’s been nothing but fun especially when you participate in their pranks on Misha. You and Jensen are growing closer, more than you ever thought you would. He’s super nice, sweet, charming, and very sexy. He’s everything a girl would want in a man. This was inevitable, but you got to the part in your onscreen relationship where your characters share a kiss. He’s super nervous as are you since you both have feelings for one another.

“Dean, I don’t know why you’re bugging out. The hunt went exactly as planned,” your character says as you unpack your duffel bag.

“You got hurt. How is that exactly as planned?”

“We got the bad guy. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Not at the cost of your life! How could you think so little of it?”

“Dean, it’s just a scratch. I’ve gotten worse wounds than this.”

“God, you’re not getting it,” he scoffs.

“What? Please explain to me how you’re feeling.”

“It’s your life! No monster is worth that. You’re too important to me.” Jensen walks over to you and cups your jaw. The moment is so intense, so intimate. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. I’m right here,” you whisper.

You two stare into your eyes right before he smashes his lips on yours. He isn’t kissing you like how Dean would, he’s kissing you like how he would. The kiss is supposed to be short and sweet but Jensen keeps it going as long as he can. Your lips mold with his perfectly as if you were meant to be doing this your whole life.

The director yells CUT and Jensen pulls away from you slightly. He cheers at getting it on one take, and you step back from him with a nervous chuckle.

“Good job you two! Take ten everyone!”

“Listen, if you ever want to practice lines or… other things, you’re more than welcome to come to my trailer. You know, practice makes perfect.”

“I’ll make sure to take you up on that offer,” he smirks.

And practice did make perfect. After hearing the story of how you met Jenson yet again, both your daughters clap happily.

“Tell the story again!” your six-year-old giggles.

“Again!” your four-year-old laughs after her sister.

“Not tonight, girls,” you grin and kiss both their heads.

“Go to sleep. We’ll see you in the morning,” Jensen says.

You and Jensen leave their room and close the door gently. Jensen brings you into his arms and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Landing that role has been the best thing to ever happen to me,” you whisper to him.

“You stole the words right out of my mouth,” Jensen smiles and kisses you.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[ducktoo]

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

33. Renov-log

Note: Jeez, we’re close to the end now…

Masterlist here

After months of touring, recording, and relentless promotion, the girls of aespa finally had some downtime. Considering that Whiplash would be their last release of this year and their world tour success, they managed to snag a good break.

To be exact, 2 weeks.

Naturally, they decided it was time for a major change:

Renovating their dorm.

Of course, Y/n, who had barely recovered from the last leg of their tour, suddenly found himself roped into this mess once again. Because despite having muscles on their own, they just want to hang out with him more.

-

It all started innocently enough. The girls were gathered in the living room, flipping through catalogs, each with vastly different ideas on what their “new space” should look like. Y/n sat at the head of the table, already feeling a headache forming.

“Are we seriously doing this?” Y/n asked, glancing from one girl to the next, noting their determined expressions.

“Yup,” Karina said, not even looking up as she circled a bright red couch in a magazine. “We’re over this old setup. It’s time for something new.”

Winter chimed in with a deadpan tone, her face buried behind her phone. “I’ve been staring at that peeling wallpaper for two years. It’s haunting my dreams at this point.”

“Ok, you should’ve told me that earlier, Jeong.” Y/n sighed.

Ningning grinned, bouncing in her seat. “We need more colour. And a karaoke machine!”

Y/n blinked at that last part. “A karaoke machine? Why?”

“Yep,” Giselle said, casually pointing at the list in front of him. “Right next to the beanbags and mini-fridge. Oh, and let’s not forget, we want a cozy reading nook by the window.”

Y/n rubbed his temples. “This is getting out of hand…I don’t study architecture here.”

Winter strolled in, looking like she’d just had the most brilliant idea. “We should film a vlog about the whole renovation process. You know, a ‘Day in the Life’ kind of thing. It’ll be hilarious watching Y/n try to maintain some level of sanity.”

Y/n’s head snapped up. “Wait, what now?”

Karina and Ningning shared a glance, their mischievous grins widening.

“We’re doing it,” Winter declared. “Vlog day tomorrow.”

-

The next day, the real madness began. Furniture deliveries were scheduled, paint samples were splattered across walls, and half the dorm was covered in dust as the renovation began. But to make things worse, Giselle, true to her word, pulled out her camera, ready to document the entire thing for their channel.

“Alright guys, welcome to today's 'Reno-vlog'!’” Giselle announced with far too much enthusiasm. “We’re going to make this place look brand new, with the help of our lovely manager, Y/n!”

Y/n appeared in the background, balancing a stack of paint cans. “I didn’t sign up for this,” he grumbled, before nearly tripping over an extension cord.

“Are you okay, Y/n?” Karina laughed, zooming the camera in on his frazzled expression.

“I’m fine,” Y/n muttered, but the slight panic in his eyes said otherwise. “Just… someone please move the cables.”

As the girls split up into teams, the dorm turned into a scene straight out of a comedy show. Giselle and Ningning took charge of painting the living room, while Karina and Winter were busy assembling furniture. Y/n? Well, he was stuck in the middle of it all, trying his best to keep everything under control.

“Giselle! That’s not the right shade of blue!” Y/n yelled from across the room as he glanced at the paint sample. “You picked ‘Ocean Breeze,’ but that looks like ‘Misty Sky!’”

Giselle shrugged, completely unfazed. “Eh, blue is blue. It’ll look fine once it dries.”

“Right… because drying magically changes the colour.” Y/n sighed, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Karina and Winter struggled with an IKEA bookshelf in the corner.

“I’m telling you, this part goes here,” Winter said, holding a screw in one hand and a wooden panel in the other.

Karina looked equally as confused. “Are you sure? It looks upside down.”

“It’s not upside down,” Winter huffed, trying to force the pieces together. “I’ve done this before.”

Y/n watched from the doorway, shaking his head. “I give it five minutes before that thing collapses.”

Sure enough, the bookshelf stood triumphantly for about three minutes before one of the sides gave out, sending the entire structure crashing to the floor. Karina and Winter just stared at it, shocked into silence.

“Told you so.” Y/n deadpanned.

Ningning, however, was quick to pounce. “I got that on camera!” she cackled, pointing her phone at the wreckage.

“Thanks for the moral support, idiot,” Winter grumbled, crossing her arms.

Y/n raised his hands defensively. “Ya, you’re the ones who refused to look at the manual.”

Karina smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s right, Minjeong. We should’ve listened to the professional.”

Winter rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine, fine. Y/n wins this round.”

“Of course, one of my various W” The victorious manager patted his shoulder.

-

The painting was no better. The girls had chosen a variety of bright colors, each with a specific vision in mind. But when Ningning knocked over an entire can of ocean-blue paint onto the living room floor, Y/n nearly lost it.

“Yizhuo!” Y/n yelled, staring at the growing puddle of paint. “That was oil-based!”

Ningning winced, backing away. “Oops?”

Y/n sighed, already calculating how many hours it would take to clean that up. “I’m going to need a mop... and therapy after this.”

Giselle, ever the opportunist, swung the camera towards him. “And here we have Y/n, reaching the breaking point of this renovation project.”

The girls snickered, their laughter only growing louder as Y/n tried—and failed—to clean the paint with a completely inadequate rag.

“You know,” Winter teased as she filmed the scene with her phone, “this would make for some quality blackmail footage.”

"Another one?!" Y/n looked up from the floor, narrowing his eyes. “If that video ever sees the light of day, I’m throwing all of your new furniture out the window.”

Winter just shrugged, a sly grin on her face. “Tsk, whatever. But I’m still keeping the footage.”

-

Despite the setbacks, the renovation eventually started to come together. The walls were painted (after several attempts), the furniture was somewhat assembled, and the dorm slowly began to resemble a place they could all live in. It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.

Karina gestured to the new couches proudly. “See, Y/n? I told you it would look good.”

Y/n nodded, admiring the final product. “It actually does. You guys did well.”

Ningning, of course, couldn’t let him off the hook that easily. “Don’t forget, we captured your meltdown on camera for the vlog.”

“Yeah, Y/n, you were like this close to pulling your hair out,” Giselle added, laughing.

Y/n rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. “Great. I’m sure that’ll be the highlight AND the thumbnail of the video.”

-

Later that evening, after the chaos had died down and the renovation halted for the day, Y/n found himself in the kitchen, trying to salvage a snack from the fridge. As he fumbled around, Winter quietly walked in, leaning against the counter with a playful smile.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked, her voice soft but teasing.

"Just... trying to find something edible," Y/n replied, pulling out a carton of milk and sniffing it cautiously. "I'm about to get triggered out there."

Winter chuckled, watching him with an amused expression. "You know, you didn’t do too bad today. Kept your cool, mostly."

Y/n grinned, shaking his head. "Mostly, huh?"

There was a beat of silence between them, and Y/n couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. Ever since the "smooch prank," and his permission approved by the other girls, his feelings toward Winter had been... complicated.

He wasn’t sure where they stood or if it even meant anything to her. But he found himself increasingly flustered whenever she was around, her presence lingering in his thoughts.

Winter seemed to pick up on his awkwardness, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in slightly. “What’s with that look? You’re not still mad about the prank, are you?”

Y/n stammered, suddenly unable to find his words. “Uh, no. Not mad. Just... thinking.”

"Thinking about what?" Winter asked, tilting her head with curiosity.

Y/n nearly choked on his words. “Uh... nothing important.”

Winter smirked knowingly. “Sure, nothing important. You’re such a bad liar, Y/n. Just say that you like my kiss.”

…"I-I"

Before Y/n could respond, Karina popped into the kitchen, breaking the tension. “What’s going on in here? Are you two conspiring without us?”

“You want me to?,” Y/n said quickly, though his voice cracked slightly, betraying his nerves.

Karina raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Uh-huh. Well, just make sure we don’t find out you’re plotting a new prank on us, Minjeong.”

Winter flashed an innocent smile. “Who, me? Never.”

Y/n cleared his throat, desperately trying to change the subject. “So, uh, how’s the vlog going?”

Ningning entered the kitchen just in time to answer that. “It’s gold. The fans are going to love it. Especially the part where you nearly passed out from stress.”

-

As the night wore on, and the chaos of the day finally began to settle, Y/n found himself back in the living room, alone for a moment of peace. He sat on one of the new couches, admiring the final result of their hard work.

The dorm wasn’t perfect—far from it—but it had character. And despite the hiccups, it had been fun, even if he wouldn’t admit it to the girls.

Winter suddenly appeared in the doorway, her hair slightly tousled from the day’s work. “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course,” Y/n said, scooting over to make room for her on the couch.

She plopped down beside him, pulling her legs up underneath her. “You look deep in thought.”

Y/n chuckled. “Just thinking about how close I was to explode in front of you all.”

“Aish, your exaggerated too much,” Winter groaned, but with a soft smile on her lips. “But it was fun. I mean, look at what we did.”

Y/n glanced around the room, nodding. “It does look great…surprisingly.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Winter spoke again, her voice quieter this time. “You know, you’ve been pretty amazing through all this, idiot. I don’t think we say it enough.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. “Mhm…I’m just doing my job.”

“Still,” Winter said, her eyes meeting his. “We’re lucky to have you.”

Y/n felt his heart skip a beat, unsure of how to respond. Before he could muster a response, Winter flashed him a soft, genuine smile that made his heart skip another beat. Her sincerity was something he wasn’t used to handling, especially after all the teasing and chaos the group usually stirred up.

“..Since when you look so womanly…,” he finally said, scratching the back of his neck nervously before ruffling her hair.

"Yaaaa" Winter groaned.

“I’m lucky to have you guys too. Especially you, Jeong."

Winter’s smile grew, but the moment quickly turned awkward when Ningning’s voice echoed from down the hallway. “Hey, Y/n-oppa! Jeong-unnie! You better not be do some funny behaviour in there!”

Y/n groaned inwardly, thankful for the interruption but also wishing for just a little more time to figure out how he was feeling. Winter, on the other hand, chuckled softly, standing up from the couch.

“I guess that’s my cue,” she said with a light laugh, giving Y/n one last glance before heading toward the hallway.

“Goodnight, idiot.”

“Goodnight, crybaby” Y/n replied, his mind still whirling with the events of the day.

-

The next morning, the group wasted no time getting back into their usual antics. After the emotional (and slightly awkward) moment between Y/n and Winter, everything seemed to return to normal — well, as normal as life with aespa could be.

Ningning had already started editing the footage from the day before, giggling every time she came across a particularly chaotic scene.

“Y/n, you look like you’re about to combust,” she teased, playing a clip where Y/n was holding a mop, surrounded by spilled paint and half-assembled furniture.

“I WAS about to combust,” Y/n grumbled, sipping his coffee while trying to avoid looking at the screen. “That paint was everywhere.”

Giselle leaned over Ningning’s shoulder, pointing at the screen. “Oh man, this part’s gold. The bookshelf disaster. I still can’t believe Winter and Karina thought they could build that thing without instructions.”

Karina, who had just walked into the room, waved them off. “It was a learning experience.”

Winter, following behind Karina, raised an eyebrow. “A learning experience in failure, maybe.”

The banter continued as they all sat down for breakfast, but Y/n couldn’t help but steal glances at Winter. There was something about the way she carried herself, so casual yet so sincere, that kept him thinking about the night before. And the prank. And the way she had told him they were lucky to have him.

It wasn’t the first time Winter had caught him off guard with her softer side, but it was the first time he’d felt… different about it.

-

After breakfast, they got back to work on the final touches of the dorm renovation. Y/n found himself in the corner of the living room, trying to assemble a coffee table that had more screws than should be legally allowed.

Winter joined him, kneeling beside him as she attempted to help with the assembly. “Need some backup?”

Y/n chuckled. “As long as you’re reading the instruction, sure.”

Winter gave him a playful nudge, grinning. “Ya, I’m a quick learner, trust me.”

They worked in relative silence, but every now and then, their hands brushed as they both reached for the same tool. Y/n could feel the tension building, the air between them thick with the unsaid.

“So,” Winter said suddenly, breaking the silence, “you’ve been a little quiet lately. What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Y/n hesitated. He wasn’t ready to lay everything on the table, not yet. “Just...wondering what’s after Whiplash and stuff.”

Winter didn’t seem satisfied with his answer but didn’t push further. “Well, we will be alright, but everything is fun now that you’re with us.”

“You said it all the time now.”

“Aish, can’t a lady show her appreciation?” Winter glared, but a giggle followed after.

Y/n’s stomach flipped again. There it was, that sincerity that always caught him off guard. “Thanks, Jeong.”

-

With the renovations nearly complete, the group decided it was time to finish up their “day in the life” vlog. Ningning, as always, took charge of the camera, while the rest of the girls threw themselves into creating as much chaos as possible.

Karina and Giselle staged a fake argument over who got the better new bedroom setup, complete with exaggerated yelling and finger-pointing. Ningning, cackling behind the camera, zoomed in on Y/n’s exasperated face as he tried to mediate the “fight.”

“I’m not a therapist,” Y/n groaned, rubbing his temples. “Can’t we just focus on finishing this?”

Karina crossed her arms, playing up the drama. “No, Y/n! Giselle needs to know I deserve the bigger closet!”

Giselle gasped in mock offense. “Oh, please! I have way more shoes than you do!”

Y/n sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do I feel like this is going to be the entire vlog?”

Winter, who had been standing off to the side, caught his eye and gave him a small, knowing smile. Despite the chaos, she seemed to find the situation just as amusing as he did.

-

Later that day, after the cameras were off and the renovation was finally—mostly—done, Y/n found himself back in the kitchen, once again trying to find something to eat. Winter quietly entered the room, as she often did, leaning against the counter.

“You're stealing my snack zone at this point” she teased lightly.

Y/n chuckled, pulling out a box of cereal. “Damn right. This is my domain.”

Winter smiled softly, watching him for a moment before speaking. “You’ve been handling everything really well, you know. The renovations, the vlog, the constant chaos.”

Y/n shrugged, trying to play it off. “I’m surprised my hair is still here.”

Winter’s eyes lingered on him for a moment longer before she pushed off the counter and stood a little closer to him. “Ya, You’re doing great, Y/n. You’re... important to us.”

Y/n froze, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just nodded, suddenly very interested in pouring cereal into his bowl.

Winter didn’t push further, but as she walked past him to leave the kitchen, her hand brushed his arm, sending a spark of warmth through him. He couldn’t help but watch her retreating figure, his mind racing with thoughts he wasn’t quite ready to confront.

-

That evening, the girls gathered in the living room, excitedly presenting Y/n with a small box wrapped in colorful paper. They had been out earlier that day, under the guise of running errands, but it seemed they had been plotting something else entirely.

“…What’s this?” Y/n asked, holding the box carefully as the girls watched him with expectant smiles.

“A gift,” Karina said, grinning. “For all the hard work you’ve done. Also it’s a bit over 1 year anniversary since you became our manager.”

“Oh.” Y/n widened his eyes. With all the tour planning and nonsense, it slipped his mind that it would’ve been a bit over a year since he first started as Aespa’s manager. Or maybe it was because it wasn’t work but rather just reuniting with his childhood friend and have a fun and inseparable (yet annoying) group.

“I didn’t even realise it has been a year already.” Y/n was awestruck.

“I mean…you did went through a lot. It makes sense you didn’t notice, oppa” Ningning chimed in.

"…I'm not getting fired, am I?"

"Of course not, open it!" Giselle groaned.

Y/n glanced around at them, suspicious but touched. He carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a sleek new watch. It was simple, elegant, and exactly his style.

“Oh sht damn,” Y/n breathed, genuinely surprised. “This is... amazing. Thank you, guys.”

Ningning grinned. “We figured you needed something fancy after all the chaos we put you through this year.”

Winter, who had been standing quietly to the side, stepped forward, her eyes locking onto Y/n’s. “And just so you know, this wasn’t a prank,” she said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. “You really deserve it.”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at her words, and for a moment, he forgot all about the chaos of the day. He was just... happy.

"Just gonna say it…" Giselle smirked. "Minjeong suggested it."

"Aeri-unnie!!!!"

[my-my-my]

Could you talk about Aizen"s relationship with Shinji? What he thinks about him? etc

Sure! This ask gave me an itch to reread TBTP because (much to my dismay), I wish we saw Aizen and Shinji interact during TYBW. I hope we see some added content in the anime, but I'm not holding my breath lol.

This is going to be more of a ramble/word dump so I apologize if it's not cohesive!

TW: none!

I'm of the opinion that if there was anyone Aizen wanted to understand him (outside of Urahara), it would have been Shinji. I specifically think about this panel and how interesting it is that Kubo gave Aizen a sad look in his eyes. We don't really see sadness in Aizen, there's only one other scene where I vaguely recall him looking more sad/disappointed (vs him being bored/disappointed).

(This is from Ch -316/TBTP 10)

We know from Shinji's side, he was always wary and somewhat cautious around Aizen. He never trusted him fully and kept him at arms length for everything. On one hand, this leads him to his downfall, but I also read it as Shinji having an immediate gut reaction to not trust Aizen and Shinji could never shake that off. He can be professional with Aizen, but he mentally cannot handle anything beyond that. Something about Aizen felt so fundamentally off to Shinji that he could not get close to him.

So I wonder if this bothered Aizen as well... Aizen is someone who meticulously crafted his persona. He was known to be kind, hardworking and diligent, but something about this persona immediately gave a warning to Shinji.

But I'm not gonna defend Aizen and say he crafted the "perfect" persona - because even he (in a roundabout way) admits he didn't. Even subconscious traits of the "real" Aizen comes through with every interaction Aizen and Shinji would have had with each other, but because of the wall Shinji mentally puts between the two of them, he cannot discern these traits. So while this adds to Aizen's "loneliness complex", it gives him leeway to add in stand-ins with Kyoka Suigetsu. And that's what disappoints Aizen at his core - even his own Captain can't recognize the little things about him.

And this leads me to think that Aizen and Shinji were Lieutenant and Captain for a few centuries at least. We know that at Nanao's graduation from the academy, Aizen was already the Lieutenant of Squad 5:

(Ch. 652/The Theatre Suicide Scene 6)

So yes, Shinji may have had time to "understand" Aizen - but he doesn't. Even at the start of TBTP, Aizen asks Shinji what he's listening to and while Aizen doesn't understand jazz, instead of trying to get to "know" Aizen (even frivously), by asking him "what music do you even listen to then?" he tells him "why did you ask me that then?"

Another thing I noticed is that Aizen (during TBTP) asks a surprising amount of questions (it can be argued though that these are the hypnotized stand-ins asking). He's trying to gain as much knowledge as he can from other people, and Shinji isn't there to answer, or even acknowledge that he's asking questions. It's also "normal" for Aizen to be seen at the library, as Shunsui and the C46 didn't bat an eye at Aizen's alibi. While fundamentally Captain/Lieutenant relationships can really be any sort of dynamic (mentor/mentee, boss and personal assistant), I got the sense that Aizen didn't really "learn" much from Shinji about the ways of Soul Society. Shinji had a tight lip and only shared what needed to be shared likely for work-reasons.

And then there's their shikais! I found it fascinating how both of them have reality-altering shikais. Shinji's shikai being a complete distortion of senses, while Aizen's is subtle manipulation of senses. I don't really have any more to say for that, but I've interpreted this as their way of being honest with people. Shinji's manipulation of senses is very cognizant and deliberate - Shinji is blunt. Aizen's is subtle but traumatizing - you can't trust anything coming from Aizen.

I think though, Shinji's experience with Aizen shaped how he treats his Squad going forward. I have a soft spot for headcanons for how Squad 5 operates post-Aizen's incarceration. Shinji treats Momo much differently than he did with Aizen because he knows what it's like being used and completely victimized by Aizen. There's no point in him being on his guard against someone who was hurt just as badly as he was by Aizen's hand. There is a sense of camaraderie they share in that sense. No one (arguably) "knew" Aizen as much as they did because they worked with him in such close capacity. I'd love to know what lies and truths Aizen shared with them lol.

Sorry again for this ramble, but thank you for this ask! Wish we see/have more Squad 5 content, but alas!

[sissylittlefeather]

If I Can Dream: Chapter 4

A/N: I love this story so much. I'm so glad some of you are enjoying it too! Head to my Masterlist if you need to get caught up!

Summary: It's 1975 and Jo Bellamy has been in love with Elvis for 20 years. She doesn't even care that they haven't met yet. All she needs is a chance and she's determined to get one.

But Elvis doesn't feel much like Elvis anymore. What happened to the man he used to be? He's pretty sure he's long gone.

Can a chance encounter with Jo change the ill-fated trajectory of his life?

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, kissing, cussing, oral sex (both receiving), swallowing, fingering

Word count: ~3k

Too good, he thinks as she nods and settles against him. Too good to last.

******

Elvis wakes up around noon with Jo still in his arms naked. He looks down at her with her hair sticking out everywhere, breathing softly. It takes him a second to realize he went to sleep last night without his normal handful of pills. Something about her puts him at ease and allows him to sleep. Or maybe he was just that tired. Either way, he kisses her forehead softly and she stirs.

“Mornin’ babe.” She whines, stretching.

“Hi, Tink. You hungry?” The nickname makes her smile. Then, she sits up suddenly.

“What time is it?!”

“Just a little after noon. Why?” She smacks her forehead with her hand.

“I've got to go get ready for the wedding. I'm supposed to be there at 2.”

“Wedding?” He panics a little.

“Yeah, Evelyn's wedding. The girl I was with at your show. She's… oh shit.”

“What?”

“I forgot to ask Alan.” His expression darkens.

“Who is Alan?” She notices the change in his demeanor and smiles.

“Just a guy at work that I was supposed to bring to the wedding. But… well…”

“What?”

“I'd rather bring you.” He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head.

“No, honey, I can't go to a wedding.” Jo frowns.

“Guess I better call Alan, then.” Now Elvis frowns.

“Now, Tink, honey wait a second-”

“I have to have a date and if you won't come with me…” She looks up at him slyly. He bristles at the thought of another man touching her, even if he is a kind of fake date.

“How big is the wedding?”

“We're not like Memphis royalty. They work at FedEx and their families are here. That's about it.” He seems to be calculating whether he can pull it off.

“You want me to come?”

“Yes! More than anything.” He pulls her over on top of him and starts tickling her. “Ahhh Elvis stop!”

He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her neck. She lets him snuggle into her and runs her fingers through his hair as they relax into each other.

“I'll come with ya, Tink.”

“You will?” She pulls back and looks him in the eye.

“Yeah. What the hell. To live would be an awfully big adventure, right?” She smiles and kisses him deeply.

“Alright. I have to go do wedding things until around 5 and then I'll come get you.”

“I can meet you there, honey.” He pushes a piece of hair off of her forehead.

“No, I'm not giving you any excuses to back out. I'll come get you.” She smiles and kisses his cheek and he nods.

******

At 5:10, Jo pulls up to Graceland. Jerry lets her in and she waits in the foyer until Elvis comes down in a black suit with silver rhinestone panels on the shoulders.

“I always thought I was late places.” She laughs and Elvis scoffs.

“I'm Elvis Presley. I'm never late.”

“Well, tonight you're just Elvis, so I'm afraid we are late.” He grabs her and pulls her in close, kissing her gently. She giggles and mumbles against his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi, Tink.” She wraps her arms around his neck and whispers.

“This'll be fine. I promise.” He nods and presses his forehead to hers. Something about her makes him feel 25 again.

“You sure you don't wanna run upstairs for about fifteen minutes?” He smiles slyly and leans in to kiss her neck.

“Elvis, we gotta go. I'm a bridesmaid. I can't be too late.” He groans into her neck. She can tell he's very nervous about how this whole thing will play out.

They make their way to one of Elvis's Cadillacs and he drives to the wedding. When they arrive, Elvis slips into a seat at the back and Jo walks down the aisle to take her place at the front. Through the whole ceremony, he can't keep his eyes off of her. She looks radiant in her dark green dress, her brown eyes sparkling as she watches her best friend get married. He thinks of his own wedding, how hasty it had been, without a church and all the things his mama would've wanted. Next time he'll do it differently. Then, he realizes that's the first time he's ever considered getting married again. But when Jo looks out and smiles at him, the thought hits him again. This time he'll do it differently.

When the ceremony ends and the reception starts, word seems to spread pretty quickly that he's there, but Jo does an excellent job of running interference, keeping people away from him. After the newlywed couple has their first dance, they open the floor for people to join them.

“Come on! Let's dance.” Jo tugs on his hand to try to pull him out to the dance floor.

“Oh, Tink, honey-”

“Don't ‘Tink honey’, me. You're my date and I wanna dance. Come on.” He quickly realizes he's already lost this argument and follows Jo to the square in the middle of the room. Luckily, it's filled with couples, so they're able to slip in undetected. Jo convinces him to dance for the better part of an hour before he insists on a break when the band plays one of his songs.

Evelyn and Phil are making their rounds, thanking everyone for coming. When they get to Jo and Elvis, Evelyn freezes. Jo tries to lessen the shock.

“Hey Ev, this is Elvis.” Evelyn laughs.

“I'll say. Wow. Welcome to our wedding, Elvis Presley.” Elvis stands up and shakes her hand genially. Then he turns to Phil, who until this moment has been completely still, just staring at Elvis.

“It's a beautiful wedding. Oh! Here.” He pulls something out of his pocket and then hands Phil the keys to the Cadillac he arrived in. “I didn't have time to get a present.”

“We can't… this is…” Phil stumbles over his words.

“Sure you can. I have plenty of others.”

“Thanks, man.” Phil claps him on the back and shakes his hand. Elvis genuinely enjoys the normalcy of it all. There are no cameras or people shouting questions, just food and drink and dancing.

Towards the end of the evening, a woman comes up to Jo and practically begs for an autograph. Before she can say no, Elvis cuts in.

“It's okay, Tink.” He turns to the woman. “Sure, dear. You have something for me to sign?”

The woman hands him a cocktail napkin and a pen and before too long there's a small crowd of people gathered for autographs and photos. Someone has located a Polaroid camera, so he poses and signs pictures for them. Jo watches him interact with the crowd and it warms her heart. He looks like he did fifteen years ago, happily chatting with fans. Eventually, everyone has what they want and they're all just eagerly standing around listening to him talk, so Jo steps in.

“Alright, that's enough. Leave my date alone. He owes me a dance.” The crowd disperses and he finds her, his eyes sparkling. Somebody requests The Wonder of You and instead of hiding at the table, he grabs Jo and drags her to the dance floor. He wraps her in his arms and sings the whole song in her ear as they sway to the music. When it's finished, he pulls back and looks at her, his eyes wet with tears.

“That song is for you, honey. I didn't know that when I sang it on stage, but it is.” He leans in and kisses her softly, completely forgetting that they're in public. She rests her head on his chest and closes her eyes.

“I love you, Elvis. And I know you just met me, so I'm not expecting-”

“I love you too, Tink.” She looks up at him with her eyes wide. “I do. I'm not sure how, but I do.”

A warm smile spreads across her face and it's like someone lit a candle inside her. He basks in the light of her love and they spend the rest of the evening in this kind of glittering bubble of bliss. Just before they leave, Evelyn comes back and grabs Jo in a hug.

“I didn't believe it. I'm sorry. But you were right. The way he looks at you…”

“It's okay, Ev. I sounded nuts. I probably was nuts. I just don't like to give up.” Jo laughs softly.

“I know. I'm glad you didn't listen to me.”

“Me too.” They embrace one more time and then Evelyn and Phil leave for their honeymoon. The reception ends, so Elvis calls Jerry to come pick them up since he's given their ride to the happy couple.

Jerry shows up with one of the limousines and opens the door for them like a chauffeur.

“Thanks, Jer.” Jerry smiles and whispers.

“You like this one. Figured you'd like to pull out all the stops to keep her around.” Elvis winks.

“I love this one, Jerry.” Then he slides into the backseat next to Jo. Jerry closes the car door and thanks God he went out and got those airplanes.

******

In the limousine, Jo cuddles up against Elvis and he kisses her head. Then, he uses a finger to tip her chin up and kisses her lips. It doesn't take long for the heat to build between them and he turns his body, taking her face in his hand. His tongue explores her mouth and she whimpers softly. When she crawls into his lap and straddles him, he pulls back, breathing heavily.

“Honey, we can't do this in the backseat.”

“Why not?” She peppers him with kisses on his face and neck. He tries to remember why they can't, but his brain is distracted as his blood flows south.

“Jerry…” He nods his head towards the very thin curtain that separates them from the front seat.

“So be quiet…” She slinks down between his legs and he groans softly. Her deft little fingers get his belt and pants undone easily and he shifts in his seat, bucking his hips forward to give her better access to his dick. She pumps him a few times with her hand, but he's harder than either of them expected him to be, so she quickly dives in, wrapping her mouth around his length.

“Fuck, honey.” It's been so long since he's done anything like this that the dirtiness of it is keeping him turned on. And beyond that, Jo’s warm little tongue sliding up and down his cock is doing the job. She pumps him with her hand for a bit, focusing on swirling her tongue around his sensitive head. His hips buck again and he moans.

“Quiet, baby. You have to be quiet.”

“Don't give a fuck. Feels too good.” He grunts, genuinely not caring whether Jerry hears him or not. Honestly, it wouldn't be the first time. Jo smiles and goes back to bouncing her mouth on him. She takes him as deep in her throat as she can, pressing her nose into the soft patch of hair at the base of him, moaning around his cock. He slowly starts to move his hips, thrusting into her mouth, running his fingers in the back of her hair to hold her still. She reaches back and gently moves his hand off of her head and then sits up.

“Don't do that.” He nods and she goes back to what she was doing, pumping him with her hand and sucking lightly on the tip of his dick. She pulls him fully into her mouth again, humming around him and he groans.

“Gonna cum, honey.” She rubs her tongue on the underside of his head and then pulls back a bit.

“Good. Fill this dirty little mouth, baby.”

“Oh God… fuck.” Her words push him right to the edge and when she takes him deep again and sucks, his climax snaps inside him and he cums hard, moaning loudly as she swallows it down. He shudders and throbs in her mouth through his orgasm before he starts to soften and she backs off of him, licking her lips.

“That good, baby?” He nods and pulls her to him, kissing her gently.

“Haven't done anything like that in a long time. I swear, Tink, you make me feel 25 again.” She smiles.

“That's good, because you owe me when we get home, so I hope you still have some energy.” He laughs and squeezes her, kissing her temple.

“You got it, honey.” He zips his pants and she settles into his arms for the rest of the ride. They arrive about five minutes after they finish and look at each other and laugh.

“Perfect timing.” She giggles and climbs out of the car.

“Glad I didn't get on my knees in there. Jerry would've gotten a hell of a show when he opened the door.”

“A visual to go with the sounds he heard. You were not quiet.” Elvis laughs and pokes her in the side as they walk into the house.

“You're too good, honey. I couldn't help myself.” She turns and kisses him in the foyer, parting her lips to give his tongue permission to enter. He kisses her deeply for a few seconds and then pulls back abruptly. “I just realized I haven't gone down on you.”

“It's okay-”

“No. I need to remedy this right away.” He pushes her in front of him up the stairs, his hands on her ass the whole time. She giggles shamelessly, both of them ignoring the fact that there are other people in the house. When they're together like this, they don't even notice there are other people on the planet. At the top of the stairs, Elvis loses his patience and bends over, throwing her over his shoulder to carry her into the bedroom. She's a tiny little thing, so he does it easily and she lets out a small scream.

“Elvis!”

“You were takin’ too long.” He carries her into the bedroom and tosses her on the bed. She scoots to settle with her head on the pillows and he crawls in between her legs on his knees. First, he pushes her dress up and over her head, tossing it to the side. Next, he removes her bra, throwing it somewhere too. When he gets to her panties, he drops soft kisses on her stomach before using both hands to slowly roll them down her legs and off with her shoes. She moans softly as he presses his lips to her ankle and then starts making his way back up. In between each kiss, he whispers.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

As he gets closer to her center, his kisses get softer and slower. She whimpers as he gently pushes her thighs apart and lays down between them. He runs his finger up her slit feeling the wetness and clicks his tongue.

“Damn, honey, I haven't even touched ya yet.” She moans softly in response.

“Need it so bad, babe.” He smiles and leans in, licking a stripe up her pussy and then pushes his tongue into her as far as it'll go. Her back immediately arches and she curses loudly. “Fuckkkkk, Elvis.”

His tongue finds her clit easily and he makes slow, languid circles over it. She groans and runs her hands in his hair, pulling slightly. He grunts when she grabs his hair, enjoying the sensation. She starts to sweat and pant as he goes to work on her sensitive bud, licking and sucking and dragging his tongue over it. He's going at her with more intention than he's had with a woman in a long time. He always makes sure they cum, but this time he wants to make sure she stays too. So he pulls out all the stops, moving his tongue on her with increasing fervor. She bucks her hips up into his mouth and he moves back down to fuck her with his tongue as she grinds against him. When he moves back to her clit, he pushes two fingers inside her and her eyes almost cross from the pleasure as he moves them.

“That feel good, honey?” He mumbles against her and she whines in response.

“F-fuck yes.”

“Good girl, now cum for me.” She moans loudly as he gives her the direct order and goes back to licking her, furiously chasing her high.

“Oh God, Elvis, FUCK!” She grabs his hair again and her orgasm crashes over her body, rocking her from the inside out as she holds on tightly and cums hard in his mouth, her pussy pulsing around his fingers. He licks her until he feels her softening on his tongue. Sliding his fingers out, he licks another stripe over her whole pussy and grunts.

“Goddamn, you taste good, honey. Kinda wanna lick you all night until you can't cum anymore.” She whimpers and moans.

“Well I ain't gonna say no to that…” He smiles and leans his face back down to her pussy.

Jo ends up with three consecutive orgasms before she admits defeat, gasping for breath and coated in sweat. Elvis chuckles and rolls over on his back. He hasn't had this much fun getting a woman off in years.

After they both recover a bit and put on some pajamas, he lays down next to her on the pillow and she snuggles into his side. She walks her fingers up his chest and he grabs her hand, kissing her fingertips.

“I love you, Tink. I never thought I'd feel this way again. You brought me back to life. Thank you.” She looks up at him and kisses him softly.

“You saved me too. Someday I'll tell you how. For tonight I'll just say this: I love you too, Elvis Aaron Presley. And I'm yours for as long as you'll have me.”

Forever, then. It's right on the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back for some reason. He'll think about that tomorrow. For now, he drifts off to sleep with her in his arms again, perfectly content.

******

Until next time!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @polksaladava @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy

[ichigopanhpff]

Translation: Toman Tengoku Showdown from the “Tokyo Revengers Exhibition The Final World Line SILVER” Book

In Roppongi’s TR exhibition, they had a section where they had an installation of the final timeline story drawn by Wakui-sensei. This installation had a mix of the printed manga panels and voiceover drama to cover more backstory and content because the man can only draw and cover so much.

Luckily, they included the transcript to the voice overs and are divided up into chapters with titles, which I'll mark with --.

I was lucky enough to my my hands on the book directly from their limited time merch site (https://mikey-mart.online/); unfortunately, they ended all online orders by 2/4.

Out of respect for the exhibition and the hard work put into this entire thing by Wakui-sensei and the staff, I will not be posting any images of the panels from the booklet and will post whatever the official exhibition's Twitter account have posted. I’ll do my best to put scene descriptions where I see fit. I have seen there are some JP vloggers who've done content on the exhibition itself, but don't know how much they were able to film.

They also have an interview with the artist who made the statue installation of the Tenjiku arc scene where Takemichi raised his fist up when Mikey appeared, an interview with the Japanese VAs and Wakui-sensei himself. If there’s enough interest in any of those sections, I’ll do my best to translate them.

Note: Translation isn’t 100% and I may take some liberties in translating certain things for a more colloquial approach. Anything in brackets are my personal notes.

Intro: This is the story about our final time leap and battle.

Kisaki: The Toman Tengoku Battle will take place one week from today. It will take place at the Roppongi 3rd multi-story Parking Lot.

Panel Card: Tokyo Roppongi Manji Tengoku Summit Meeting

[This is the panel they teased in the YT video where Toman, Tenjiku and Black Dragons were sitting in a private room in a Chinese restaurant].

Kisaki: There are three rules: No weapons! No retaliations! The gang that wins will absorb the other gangs! No objections?

Takemichi: None.

Taiju: There’s nothing left to say at this point!

Izana: This’ll be a festival to decide whose fist will rule over the biggest gang in all of Japan; a huge feud between the three of us.

Kisaki: This concludes the meeting!!

(Each respective gang make their exits)

Takemichi: The next time we’ll see each other will be at the battlefield.

Mikey: Get ready to be beaten to a pulp.

Taiju: Ha! Back at you!

Izana: Hmph.

Kakucho: Are you okay with this, Izana?

Izana: With what?

Kakucho: Isn’t Mikey Shinichiro-san’s younger brother? Are you gonna go all out?

Izana: … Haha. Idiot Kakucho. This will be the second time Mikey and I go at it.

Flashback quote: “Even if we’re not related by blood, Shin-nii is my brother!!!”

--Get blood out of a stone--

Young Hanagaki Takemichi CV: Watanabe Akeno Young Sano Manjiro CV: Fairouzi Ai Young Kurokawa Izana CV: Tanezaki Atsumi

Takemichi: This is your hardest mission, Mikey-kun.

Mikey: Got it.

(Takemichi and Mikey are standing in front of the orphanage talking to each other secretly)

Takemichi: I don’t know what kind of scary thing will happen if we tell Izana-kun suddenly. That’s why I thought of this strategy.

(Takemichi starts shaking as he opens his hand with a piece of chocolate)

Mikey: Chocolate?

Takemichi: Yes, chocolate. [Oh you sweet summer child…]

(He begins to explain his strategy with confidence.)

Takemichi: This is how you’ll lure Izana-kun in and with time, you two will slowly start getting along and gradually tell him the truth.

(Takemichi clenches his fist, immersed in a monologue)

Takemichi: This is a perfect plan, if I do say so myself… With this, Izana-kun will also…

Mikey: Yeah.

(Mikey runs in before Takemichi realized)

Takemichi: Mikey-kun…?

(Mikey punches Izana and sends him flying, landing firmly on the ground.) [Good job following the plan.]

Mikey: You’re Kurokawa Izana!

(Takemichi is so surprised, he’s rendered speechless)

Takemichi: Mikey-kun?!

(Izana stands up)

Izana: What the hell’s up with you?!

Mikey: I’m Sano Manjiro!

(Takemichi noticed Izana is surprised by Mikey’s words)

Izana: You said you’re Shin-nii’s… younger brother?

Takemichi: Mikey-kun…

(Mikey throws another punch)

Mikey: You and Shinichiro aren’t connected by blood!

Takemichi: Mikey-kun!

(Izana returns the punch)

Izana: What the hell are you goin’ on ‘bout, y’bastard?!

(The fist fight between the two turn into an argument)

Mikey: There’s no way you two are siblings! Why would you trust my idiot older brother like that!

Izana: What?! The hell’s wrong with you? Are you an idiot for comin’ here?!

Mikey: You accepted Shinichiro’s words without even questioning it ‘cus you’re lonely, right?! That guy did some digging, but now he can’t take back what he’s said and didn’t even mention he had a younger brother!

(The two face each other)

Mikey: I bet you must’ve noticed it too.

Izana: … Shut uuuppppp! What do you know?! My parents threw me away… I’m here while you have a warm family to raise you. You understand nothing! What if we are blood related?!

Mikey: Is it really that important to you?!

(The two start their fist fight again and eventually lay on their backs on the ground)

Mikey and Izana: Haa haa…

Izana: … Shin-nii is my brother! Even if we’re not blood related, he’s still my brother!

Mikey: … Shinichiro said the same thing.

--End--

Taiju: Mitsuya. Is Hakkai gonna go at us seriously?

Mitsuya: … Stop calling on the enemy to check up on your baby brother. You and Yuzuha are a pair of spoiled siblings. Hakkai’ll end up that way too.

Flashback quote: “No matter how violent you get on us, mom will never come back!!”

Taiju: Hmph.

--Let’s drop it--

Young Shiba Taiju CV: Tomozaku Sugita Young Shiba Yuzuha CV: Komatsu Mikako Young Shiba Hakkai CV: Hatanaka Yu Young Sano Manjiro: Fairouzi Ai

(A door forcefully bursts open into a room, where an angry Taiju enters in)

Taiju: Who forgot to turn off the bathroom light?

(Yuzuha and Taiju become frightened)

Hakkai: A… A--

Yuzuha: It’s me!

(Yuzuha protects Hakkai)

Taiju: … Why are you lying?

Yuzuha: Eh?! I’m not lying! It was me!

Taiju: The toilet seat was up. Only men do that.

(Hakkai’s hand clenches tightly at Taiju)

Taiju: Hakkai! Come here!

(Yuzuha interferes to stop Taiju)

Yuzuha: Wait! Don’t beat Hakkai anymore! Let me take his punishments instead! Please!

Hakkai: Sis…

(Hakkai hangs his head down, unable to say anything)

Taiju: You said it. From now on, you’ll take the beating for two people. Is that fine with you, Yuzuha?!

Hakkai: …

(A mysterious voice flashes in Hakkai’s memory!)

Mysterious voice (Mikey): Hakkai!

Hakkai: …!

(Hakkai stands up and faces Taiju)

Hakkai: Stop this already, Taiju!

Yuzuha: Eh…

Taiju: !

(Taiju gets violent with Hakkai)

Taiju: What’re you tryin’ to do here, Hakkai.

Hakkai: Don’t beat up sis anymore! This is ridiculous at how crazy you keep going at us.

Taiju: As I thought, you’re the one who forgot to turn the lights off. How many times have I told you to fix that?

(Hakkai gets hit and falls down. Yuzuha stands and goes beside him)

Hakkai: … I’m sorry for everything up to now, sis.

(Yuzuha is surprised)

Yuzuha: Hakkai.

Hakkai: … My friend told me.

(He recalls Mikey’s voice)

Mikey: It’s okay if you lose. Fight him.

(Taiju turns toward Hakkai)

Hakkai: Cut it out already, Taiju! No matter how violent you get with us, mom’ll never come back to us!

(Taiju is surprised)

Taiju: !… Hakkai.

(Hakkai starts crying)

Hakkai: ‘Cus I’m… I’m lonely…!

Taiju: You…

--End--

Kokonoi: Inupi. How’s Akane-san doing?

Inupi: Yeah. I’m gonna go for it.

Kokonoi: … I see.

Flashback quote: “Leave Inupi-kun to me! Hurry up and go back to save Akane-san!”

Inupi: Well, didn’t you say first loves usually don’t go as planned?

Kokonoi: Shut up.

--Every cloud has a silver lining--

Young Inui Seishu: Koichi Makoto Young Kokonoi Hajime: Igarashi Hiromi Young Inui Akane: Ueda Rena Young Hanagaki Takemichi CV: Watanabe Akeno

(The house is burning with a roaring sound as Kokonoi runs toward it)

Kokonoi: Haa haa… Akane-san!

(Kokonoi desperately addresses someone)

Kokonoi: Fire trucks… Have you seen anyone leave the house?!

Old Lady: I… I’m not sure. I haven’t been able to see anything. I’ll call for the ambulance and fire truck right now!

(Kokonoi turns and suddenly decides to run into the house)

Kokonoi: Akane-san! Akane-san! Haa haa… Akane-san! Akane-san!!

(A mysterious boy suddenly shows up inside the house)

Mysterious boy (Takemichi): Leave Inupi-kun to me! Koko-kun should hurry up and find Akane-san!

Kokonoi: O… Okay.

(Kokonoi continues his search)

Kokonoi: Akane-san! Where are you?! Akane-san! … Akane-san!

(He finally sees her and rushes over. Akane looks like she’s about to pass out)

Akane: … Hajime… kun…?

Kokonoi: I told you I’d protect you, right?

Akane: … Thank you…

(He carries Akane on his back and staggers out)

Old man: Hey! There’s another person who came out!

Old lady: Two people were able to be rescued out of that house. Thank goodness!

Kokonoi: Haa haa…

Seishu: Koko! You were able to save Akane?

Kokonoi: Yeah… But someone else saved you, Inupi.

Seishu: Huh… I was sure it was Koko who saved me. Then… Where are they…?

Kokonoi: … ?

--End--

(Scene is the night of the fight and Toman members are gathering.)

Chifuyu: Baji-san!

Baji: Yo, Chifuyu. It’s finally time, huh.

Chifuyu: Our third big battle! I got Baji-san’s back so you can go all out!

Baji: Oh! I’ll leave it up to you.

Chifuyu: Please leave it up to me.

Kazutora [He a jealous boi]: … Hey, anythin’ goes with you huh? Eh? Eh? When did you join Toman?

Chifuyu: Um… 2004.

Kazutora: Is that right now. And when did I join?

Chifuyu: Um… you’re a founding member, right?

Kazutora: Exactly! This is a photo that only a founding member has!

Chifuyu: Whoa, awesome!

Kazutora: You don’t have this right? Which means I’ve been with Baji much longer, right?

Chifuyu [Poor thing is confused at Tora’s ire]: Ye...ah…?

Kazutora: Baji definitely likes me more, right? You get what I’m gettin’ at, right?

Chifuyu: Yeah.

Takemichi: They’re trying to justify something dumb again.

Kisaki: What are they, kids? I’m surrounded by idiots in Toman.

Takemichi: Idiot. It’s fine as long as you’re the one who’s got it together.

(Takemichi puts his arm around Kisaki’s shoulder and pulls him close)

Kisaki: Stop that. You’re suffocating me.

Takemichi: Rely on me a bit more, partner!

Flashback quote: Do you like Hina? I like her too.

--It takes two to tango--

Young Kisaki Tetta CV: Ozora Naomi Young Tachibana Hinata CV: Waki Azumi Young Hanagaki Takemichi CV: Watanabe Akeno

(Some middle school kids are bullying a cat)

Cat: Nya-!

Hina: Hey, Kisaki-kun. That group is bullying the cat! Hina’s gonna complain about this!

(Hina steadily walks toward them)

Kisaki: Ta-Tachibana?!

(Hina faces the middle school boys [MSB])

Hina: Stop that! What’s so fun about doing something like that?!

MSB A: Huh?

MSB B: I hate kids with a strong sense of justice.

MSB A: Hey! The cat ran away.

MSB B: Then you take the place of the cat.

(Hina resists crying)

MSB: Aww, you’re gonna start cryin’? Did you think we’ll let you go if you started cryin’ like this?

(Kisaki watches from afar)

Kisaki: This is why I said stopping them’s useless.

(Takemichi suddenly appears and takes Kisaki’s arm)

Kisaki: Eh?!

(Takemichi brings Kisaki in front of the middle school kids, stepping onto the gravel)

Takemichi: Stop that!

(Kisaki panics)

Kisaki: Wh-what?

Takemichi: We’re the super hero partners! How dare you middle school kids pick on a young girl. That’s unforgivable!

MSB: Huh? What’s up with you guys?

(Kisaki continues to panic as Takemichi neither cries nor trembles)

Kisaki: W-Why are you including me?!

Takemichi: Shaddap! Let’s go Kisaki! You’re a man too, right?!

Kisaki: Wh-What…

(Takemichi dashes)

Takemichi: Ooooohhhh!

(Hina cries)

Takemichi: I didn’t think too much on my actions before and after.

Hina: (crying noises) Hic… I’m sorry…

(Takemichi’s wounds throb from pain)

Takemichi: Ow ow ow…

Hina: Ah, Hina will go buy some bandages!

(Hina’s running footsteps fade out, leaving Takemichi and Kisaki alone together)

Takemichi: … Do you like Hina?

Kisaki: Eh-Um, uh, I--

Takemichi: (smiling wide) I like her too.

--End--

The night before the Toman Tengoku Showdown at Musashi Shrine…

Toman’s finally gathered, with Mikey facing everyone

Mikey: Tomorrow will finally decide who will be Japan’s top gang! Everyone, are you ready?!

Toman: Yeah!!!

Mikey: Is there anyone scared of tomorrow’s battle?! No one right?! Let’s take the top spot!

(Toman chants)

With the call of Mikey’s voice, Toman’s morale is at its peak. The climax of an alternative future where they continued their revenge.

Mikey: This’ll finally put an end to our revenge.

Takemichi: The final battle.

It’s time to head to the battlefield. Roppongi 3rd multi-story parking lot!

Mikey: Let’s go!

Takemichi: Okay!

Tensions rising! Tokyo Manji Gang, Tenjiku and Black Dragons Gather!!

Tokyo Manji Gang, Tenjiku, Black Dragons A Fight that Lasted One Night to Decide Japan’s Strongest Gang

[chronically-absentminded]

I NEED TO VENT CAUSE!! OMGGGG! The manhwa I’m currently reading just BLEW my mind and I need to share it!

But one, there is kissing here and spoilers for the latest chapter of Tears on a Withered Flower, so I’m putting a “Read More” section for anyone who doesn’t unwillingly want to be exposed to any of that.

So, warning, warning! Hot kissing and spoilers for Tears on a Withered Flower 🥀

Warning!

Warning

Warn-

Okay, let’s get on with it, shall we?

Y’all ever shake in your boots when the other person receiving the kiss doesn’t so much as fuckin’ BREATH when the other person mustered up the confidence to kiss them. It fuckin’ terrifies me!

I’d like to personally thank the author for not letting Na Hae-Soo be rejected and for giving us one of the hottest manhwa kiss panels I have ever witnessed. Maybe it’s cause the characters are so hot, or the tension being released was fuckin’ amazing, or cause the motions they’re dong is so fuckin’ sexy, but for whatever reason, I was laughin’ and gigglin’ like a fuckin’ BANSHEE!! WAAAAHHH!

You cannot tell me this man hasn’t kissed anyone before, cause his technique is fuckin’ pro level!

I can fuckin’ breath hoe!! THE HAND PLACEMENT IS INSANE!! The hand on her chin and face!? ASGSJAFJSGA!! And the one so close to her fuckin’ ass?? * faints * I NEED TO BE SEDATED CAUSE THIS IS JUST TOO MUCH!!

The way they’re looking at each other, OMGGG! They’re giving each other bedroom eyes!! I cannot wait for the chapter when they actual fuck, it’s gonna be so damn hot and sexy!

—

Side note -

I don’t usually appreciate drunk kisses, especially when one of them is drunk and the other isn’t cause 1. Someone is gonna forget it happened OR they’re gonna pass it along as a drunken mistake, and 2. When one is drunk and the other isn’t, it feels like such a difference in advantage.

However, I know that drinking can sometimes bring out confidence to do something you wouldn’t typically do, which is why I appreciate that Na Hae-Soo initiated the kiss, that Beom Tae-Ha didn’t IMMEDIATELY go for the kiss, that he stopped when he asked her to stop, AND that he didn’t do anything further when he laid her in bed. Respect, respect! Thank you to the author for not making their first kiss an SA case.

—

Pls consider joining the Tears on a Withered Flower 🥀 community if you too would like to vent and rant about Beom Tae-Ha and Na Hae-soo

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/tears-on-a-withered-flower

[dwtdog]

fem dnf week day 5 🎶

“No,” George says, crossing her arms. It’s certainly not a first for her to be shooting down her management’s ideas- but she all but spits it this time, a sharp contrast to her usual cool indifference. “No way in hell.”

Her manager gives her a pained smile, the fight already draining from his eyes, and George relaxes incrementally. 

Until someone new enters the room. George glares at her, turning fully in her chair to do so. Her manager’s office is small enough as it is, and a third person coming in is far from comfortable. Especially when that third person is the head of her label.

“George, “ she greets pleasantly, holding out her hand for George to shake. George does so, but only begrudgingly. “I take it you’ve heard the plan?” she tilts her head toward George’s manager, effectively kicking the man out of his own damn office. George can’t help but be a little impressed by the ballsiness of it all. 

But that doesn’t mean she likes this plan. “I heard. And I’m not doing it,” George says, uncrossing her arms and relaxing back in her chair, even as she has to make a conscious effort to not grit her teeth.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the lady- Tiffany, damn it- says. “But we’ve already sent the contract to our other artist, and she’s been advised to sign it. As I am advising you to do the same.” “Well I assume she’ll say no, so this doesn’t really matter,” George responds. “Thank you for your time and all that, but I’ve got rehearsals-”

“She signed the contract,” Tiffany cuts her off, her smile entirely plastic. “And I am assured that she will be fine with you doing the same.”

George blinks at her, entirely taken aback. “She- What the hell do you have over her?” She cringes as soon as the words are out of her mouth, but Tiffany only laughs.

“It’s a good deal, for both of you,” she explains, like George isn’t getting it. “I know you two have had some difficulties-”

“That’s putting it lightly,” George grumbles.

“-But this will help her PR. And it’ll get you some added attention, just in time for the tour and the album drop. And the label would appreciate if you two could be more cordial to each other, both in public and private,” Tiffany says the whole thing like it’s a matter of fact, like George’s fate has already been decided. And, she supposes with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that it has.

--

“Dream.”

“George.”

“Great to… See you. Here. In my studio,” George grits out, gripping the thumb of her left hand in the palm of her right. Dream appears similarly uncomfortable, as she continuously brushes her hair out of her face, shifting on her feet. “Make yourself comfortable,” George adds, throwing her arm out to gesture to the small space. “Probably smaller than you’re used to.”

Dream grimaces, but takes the chair in the corner. George’s favorite. The bastard.

“It’s cozy in here,” Dream says, and George glares. “What? It is.”

“You can just say it sucks,” she says as she flops down in one of the other chairs, mourning the loss of her favorite one. Surely she’ll have to burn it now. 

“You think you’re own studio- that you had the final say on designing- sucks?” Dream asks with a raised eyebrow. “That’s- interesting.”

George snorts. “No, I fucking love this place. But I’ve seen the studio they’ve got you in. This shit looks like a damn barn compared to that.”

“Why are you-” Dream starts, cutting herself off with a shake of her head. “Whatever. Moving on. How the hell are we going to make this work?”

“We’re not,” George says, wriggling so she can pull a stick of gum from her pocket and pop it in her mouth. “We’re going to tell them to fuck off. Find a loop hole in the contract. Make them regret it, if we have to.”

Next door, there’s a loud banging of drums, followed by muffled chatter. George doesn’t react, but Dream frowns, looking at the meager sound panels in the studio and the wall the noise is coming from. “Uh, no, sorry. I can’t- I need this. I need to do this.”

“You want to PR date me?” George is standing, before she even realizes she’s moved. “That’s- That’s so- You’re so- What the fuck?”

“Listen,” Dream waves her hands, motioning for George to sit back down. George does, but she hates it. “Let me be clear. It was not my idea.”

“Okay,” George growls. “But you agreed to it. You want to follow through.”

“I do,” Dream says, nodding. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this- I think we could have done something else, but the label is really pressuring me to clean up my look. And this was their solution.”

George flinches. It hurts, to be dismissed like this. To have her feelings dismissed by her employer, her coworker- who she hates, admittedly- all for the sake of a relationship that half the damn world will be able to see through. She says as much, leaving out the bit about her feelings being hurt. She doesn't think Dream would give a single shit about how she feels when her precious career is on the line. 

“It’ll work,” Dream says, with an unearned amount of conviction. “People- People want it. They’ll overlook the obvious PR move. Trust me George, when I was unsigned, marketing was my thing.”

“Dream. This isn’t your fucking Tiktoks. This is the damn music industry. The world.”

“It doesn’t matter, George,” Dream shoots back, raising her voice for the first time. “Don’t you get it? This is my career, my dream on the line. For- For no reason.” the anger drains from her, the last sentence said with the deep sort of sadness that makes George squirm, to hear it coming from Dream- eternally optimistic Dream, friendly, open, kind-hearted Dream. To everyone but her, of course, but she’s had years to get used to that.

“What the hell did you even do? I know you suck at PR but- even I know you’re in deep shit this time,” George asks it to distract herself from the flicker of sympathy growing in her chest. “Was it the- the cheating thing again?”

That gets a startled laugh out of Dream, and she seems to relax a bit. “First of all, don’t say it like that. It wasn’t cheating. Me and him had been broken up for ages, but no one ever seems to listen when I say it.”

“Fair enough,” George says with a shrug. “But this time-?”

“It’s because I cam out,” Dream looks away when she says it, like the wall opposite George has suddenly become very interesting. “The label they- They told me not to do it. Said my music was about a certain experience, and if I came out it would ruin that.” “And you want to go along with their cash grab PR shit?” George asks, astounded. “That- What?”

Dream screws her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her hands into them. “I know. I fucking know. It- It feels like shit. I feel like shit for agreeing to it.”

“And for dragging me into it,” George says sardonically, long past accepting that Dream couldn’t give a rats ass about her. “We all make shitty choices, I can understand that. I guess.”

“Fuck,” Dream breathes. “Fuck, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Only just now figuring that out?”

“No, shit George, I am so fucking sorry,” when she lifts her head, her eyes are rimmed with red. George’s stomach drops. “I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t even think of how this would feel for you and- I’ll get us out of the contract.”

“What?” George yelps, looking at Dream like she’s lost her damn mind. “But you just said-”

“I know,” Dream cuts her off, again. “But I can’t do it if you don’t want to. And I don’t eve know- how I wasn’t thinking about how you would feel. God, I really am sorry.”

“Okay, stop apologizing,” George says. “You can drop the fucking- act. I know you hate me. It’s fine. Look, we can do this damn PR shit.”

“You know I- What?”

“Stop. Whatever. We can fake date or whatever the hell. As much as I hate it, it’ll be good for me. For my fucking album. So fine,” George feels her self-respect diminishing as she says it, but fuck. What the hell else can she do?

“We can?” 

“Yes. Stop asking or I’ll take it back,” George fidgets with the hem of her shirt, fingers aching to hold a guitar, to let her building emotions out in a way that makes sense.

“I- Thank you. But we should really talk about-”

“You two done in here?” a voice calls, before the door to the studio opens. And in walks Tiffany, her usually pomp securely about her. “Dream, you’ve got a photoshoot in half an hour. George, you have a meeting with your producer.”

George nods, holding back every bit of vitriol that crawls at the back of her throat. She’s surprised to realize some of it is on Dream’s behalf- not a feeling she wants to get used to.

“Of course,” Dream says, standing. “Uh- see you around George.”

“Bye baby,” George calls as she’s leaving, taking note of the way the muscles of her lower back twitch, visible due to the cropped shirt she wears. There are worse people to fake date- few as they are- she supposes, as the door shuts with a click.

--

The first week is fine. 

It’s meant to be by design, of course. They can’t just jump straight into a public relationship- they have to lay the groundwork, as George’s manager repeatedly says. 

Groundwork involves being seen leaving the studio together, making appearances at the same party, and liking each others tweets. It’s almost laughable, really, but people do pick up on it.

There’s a whole thread on George’s subreddit by the end of the week, of people discussing the possibility of them being friends. She feels a bit of vindication at the amount of comments pointing out that there’s far more evidence of the two of them disliking each other- an oft shared YouTube video of George walking straight past Dream at an event, Dream shaking hands with everyone in George’s group but Georgem and other various social faux paus they’d made toward each other over the years is posted more than once.

The second week is much the same. George is busy with album prep, and Dream seems to always have a million and one things going on, so they aren’t even seen together that week- but George is told to follow Dream on Instagram, and like some of her older posts. It’s fucking ridiculous, and George has a good laugh at the ensuing thread with her best friend, Gia.

“Can you believe they buy this shit?” she asks as she sips at a flute of champagne, her loft filled with the quiet sounds of music. The loft is one of the few perks of her label- it had been written into her contract, and is far outside of what she’d be able to afford otherwise. “Like, it just seems forced, right?”

Gia laughs. “Oh George, you just wouldn’t get it.”

Things fall apart three weeks in- they’ve got a date.

It’s at a cafe in New York, and both George and Dream are flown out for it- on the private jet, of course. The label couldn’t stand the idea of people picking up on the date being staged- so they can’t be seen before they arrive in New York.

Dream has legitimate reasons for being there- some sort of meet and greet at a record store, but George doesn’t. She asks her manager if she should come up with one, but he tells her its better if it seems like she went to New York just for Dream. Which, in her opinion, makes the whole private jet thing pointless, but what the hell does she know.

Which means Dream and George are stuck on a jet together from LA to New York.

They have plenty of room to sit far apart, to mind their own damn business, but Dream’s manager has other plans. 

“You two have to get to know each other,” she explains. George thinks it’s unfortunate that the woman is stuck with Dream as a client- she’s always liked Sylvee, and her dedication to her work. But she’s quickly becoming an enemy the more she talks. “So. Talk.”

“Isn’t this what first dates are for,” George grumbles, swirling her cup of tea. “The whole- getting to know each other shit.”

“Real first dates,” Dream says cheekily. “Ours is fake.”

“Thanks, captain obvious,” George takes a swig of her tea, hissing when it burns her tongue. “What happened to you being all apologetic?”

“Is that coffee?” Dream asks, distractedly. 

“Uh- No?”

“Oh, good. I don’t think I could fake date someone who likes coffee,” Dream takes a sip of her own drink, blanching after. “Ow.”

“Nice going, genius.”

“I just watch you do the same thing,” Dream protests, taking the lid off her cup and blowing on it like that’ll do shit. 

“Whatever,” George shrugs. “Should have learned from my mistakes.”

They’re silent for a beat after that, and the plane feels uncomfortably small. George wishes, for a moment, that they could just fall from the sky like a puppet with its strings cut. At least that would save her from this damn conversation.

“So uh,” Dream starts, squirming in her seat. “Do you have any hobbies? Besides music, I guess.”

The rest of the flight is spent making awkward small talk- they go back and forth like a tennis match, asking inane questions until they run out. Then they talk about the weather. George wants to die.

When the plane touches down, George is on the verge of collapse. She misses her studio, her apartment, her friends. She hates New York- just because it’s the city that’s causing the current bullshit. She thinks she’d like it under normal circumstances.

Their ride into the city is a nice car, the windows tinted heavily. George claims the front seat, and Dream seems content enough to take the back and stretch her legs across the entire span of it. The driver plays shitty pop- one of Dream’s songs comes on, which makes George laugh- and they make it to their hotel.

George thanks her lucky stars when she gets confirmation that they have separate rooms. She wouldn’t put it past her management to pull some shit, or for some sort of error to make things somehow worse, but she gets the satisfaction of collapsing into her own bed, even if there is a door connecting her room to Dream’s.

--

She gets the whole first day to herself- she has instructions to visit popular places, to let herself be seen, but she can handle that. 

George’s music is relatively niche, so only a few people approach her. She has security, of course, hovering only a few paces behind at all times, but it’s easier to forget they’re there as she wanders Times Square, entirely enamored with it. There’s something about the way everything moves that draws her in, a city that feels entirely alive by its own power. It reminds her of London, in a way, and homesickness makes her chest ache. 

When she returns to the hotel that evening, she can barely make it through her shower before she’s falling asleep, muscles aching from the thousands of steps she’d taken.

She’s awoken by a knock, and a sense of unease falls over her when she realizes that it’s not coming from the door to the hallway. Of course, that unease quickly turns to frustration when she registers who it is that could be knocking at the door connected to Dream’s room. 

“What do you want,” she says when she swings it open, finding Dream’s golden eyes waiting for her. Her hair is different than she’s ever seen it, curly instead of straight, and it’s a bit distracting- only because of the unfamiliarity. 

“Sorry,” Dream says, shuffling her feet. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So you woke me up,” George deadpans, yawning. Dream does the same after a moment, face twitching in a small smile when it’s over.

“Yeah, sorry. I uh- I thought we could talk. Like- for real.”

It sounds- fucking awful, honestly. George just wants this to be over with. Her opinion of Dream isn’t going to change because she suddenly wants to have a heart to heart. “Did the label put you up to this?”

“No,” Dream answers quickly, shaking her head and making her curls bounce. “This is all me.”

“Will you go away if I say no?” 

“Uh-” Dream bites her lip, and George groans.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” she swings the door open, abandoning it to plop down on her bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to her chest.

Dream follows after a moment, leaving the door open behind her. She sits next to George on the bed, pulling her legs up and crossing them beneath her.

“So,” George says, drawing the vowel out.

“Right, yeah. Uhm. I’m sorry,” Dream says, eyes downcast.

“For what?” George prompts, the list expanding in her mind. “You can go in alphabetical order, if you want.”

“Uh- For waking you up? For getting you into this mess? For not thinking of your feelings.”

“Good start,” George says with a small nod. “And?”

“And- What?” Dream asks, and the tiny amount of goodwill she’d built up instantly vanishes. 

“Do I need to spell it out?” George grits her teeth, digging her nails into the pillowcase. “Because I don’t think I should have to.”

Dream finally meets her eyes, and her expression is- conflicting. It’s all confusion, furrowed eyebrows and a tilted head, lips quirked, eyes wide. “I really have no idea, I’m- sorry, I guess. That I don’t know what I’m sorry for.”

George snorts. “Fine. Say I believe you. Say I said that the reason you should be apologizing is how you’ve treated me since the start. Like I’m nothing. Like because you got signed so quick, blew up so fast, you’re better than me. I’d say hey, that kind of really fucking hurt- hurts.”

The silence that falls over them after that is one George isn’t used to. The sounds of the city are entirely shut out by soundproofed walls, and Dream’s breathing is unsteady, billowing to fill the room in the absence of anything else. 

“But you have ‘no idea’ about any of that, so. Not sure how you could apologize,” George adds, because she can. Because it feels fucking good, to get this shit off her chest.

But then something in Dream’s demeanor changes. Her face rapidly shifts from confusion to retaliatory anger, eyes going from wide to narrow. 

“That is not fair,” she says, and her voice breaks a bit on the last word. “I- You treated me like shit first!”

And now it’s George’s turn to blink, searching Dream’s face and realizing that she completely believes what she’s saying. 

George’s first instinct is to deny, to tell Dream that she’s wrong. But Dream holds up a hand when she opens her mouth.

“Wait. Just- wait. Okay. Can you- tell me. What you think happened between us? From the beginning,” Dream says it with more authority than George has ever heard from her, and it should piss her off- but in the moment, it feels good to have guidance. So she talks.

“The first time we met. You ignored me. It was that fucking- party. The one the label through for you. I came up to say congratulations or whatever, and you- You totally blew me off!”

“Okay,” Dream says, nodding. “Okay, that does seem pretty shitty of me. But that wasn’t the first time we met,” she says it with all the finality of a falling gavel, the lynchpin in her defense. And George- Is lost. 

“Uhm- Yes it was? I would have remembered meeting you,” she blushes as soon as the words are out of her mouth, which is fucking stupid. Because, sure, Dream is objectively her type. To the damn tee. And she sings. Well, as much as George is loathe to admit. “I mean- Whatever.”

“Oh,” Dream says, and it’s an oh sort of oh. George is blushing still. “Uh- Okay. But we met way before that.”

“When,” George demands, leaning forward. “Just fucking- tell me.”

“At a party. New Years? I think? You were siting at the bar and I thought, fuck it, we’re both in the same industry now, it’s as good a time as any to shoot my shot,” Dream explains in a rush, like George will stop her. “And you weren’t into me. Totally fine, obviously. But when you were at my signing party- I just felt so damn awkward. I didn’t know how to talk to you so I just- didn’t. And I am sorry for that.”

“You- What? Asked me out?” George asks, the puzzle pieces floating in her head, waiting to fall into place. 

“Just for drinks. If you wanted one, I mean.”

“And I- said no? To you?”

Dream taps her fingers against the comforter. “You hardly looked at me. It was like- I didn’t exist,” she huffs out a laugh. “Ironic, I guess.”

“Oh fuck,” George groans, dropping her head into her hands. “I’m an idiot.”

“So am I,” Dream offers. “I probably could have just- been normal, at my party. But I couldn’t be, so you thought I hated you. And then I thought you hated me. Mostly because you were always so- standoffish.”

“It hurt,” George admits, curling in on herself. “To see how fucking nice you were to everyone else, and you could never even look at me. So I built this image up in my head, of you like- hating me. Thinking you were better than me.”

Dream laughs, short and sharp. “I uh- went to your first ever official show. If that means anything.”

“In that shitty venue with half the lights broken?” George asks, entirely taken aback. “That was- I wasn’t even signed yet.”

“I know,” Dream snorts. “It was so- I think that was my sexual awakening, honestly. Your voice and the way you sang-”

“Dream,” George gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “You’re- You’re Claire.”

“You remember me?” 

“Fucking- Yes. Oh my god. Holy shit. You came to like, half of my shows,” George wants to slap herself. It all makes sense now- she can see it now, Dream with her hair in its natural curls, looking so similar to George’s memory of the girl who had been barricade at her first few shows.

The rest of the night slips away- Dream and George talk until the sun comes up, about how Dream had found George’s music, about the label, everything. 

George thinks she’s a new person under the morning sun. And she can see Dream for who she really is- and she doesn’t think she’ll forget again anytime soon.

--

The fourth week is George’s favorite. The rumors are in full force, after their very public New York date. George is kind of floored by just how famous Dream is- she knew objectively, of course, but experiencing it is a whole new beast.

But none of that is what makes her love that week. It’s something that’s entirely private, kept from the newly prying eyes of the public, from the greedy hands of their label.

It’s a night spent in George’s loft, Dream sneaking in through the fire escape. It’s barely restrained giggles and shared drinks, small touches and and closing space.

It’s George’s couch, and Dream’s hand on her waist, and the sound of the city around them. It’s stories of Dream’s family, of George’s love for London.

It’s a moment of quiet, a break in the conversation. It’s George leaning in, and Dream gasping softly into her mouth, lips impossibly plush against hers. It’s hands and lips and noses brushing, kisses that drag on and on until their horizontal on the couch, George’s hands holding her over Dream, Dream’s hands in her hair. It’s the promise of more, as they fall asleep tangled together right on the couch.

And it’s giggling together as they read the tabloids and the Reddit posts, as George’s manager sends her articles about getting along with people you dislike. It’s everything.

--

George loses count of the weeks. She asks Dream out during one of them, to be her girlfriend. She releases her album in another, with a song featuring Dream charting higher than anything else she’s released. 

(People ask, often, if she’s bitter about it. ‘Why would I be?’ She says. ‘My girlfriend is the best- but I wrote the damn thing’)

Her tour is in one of the weeks after. It sells out, and they get frozen fruit to celebrate. And somehow, during her first show, there’s a beautiful girl watching her, cheering her on.

And at her last show, she pulls Dream on stage, grins wolfishly at the cameras. Mine, she thinks, when she kisses her under the lights.

[teeheeandhaha]

Malibu (Pt2)

Joost Klein x reader

summary: six months after the breakup with Joost you are set to perform at Eurovision, but there’s one thing you didn’t expect: he’s competing too. When you find out through a Eurovision Instagram post—after months of no communication from him about it—your emotions erupt.

a/n: You'll have to read Pt1, which is linked there. I feel like the ending to this is rushed. I'm not very happy with the end result, but let me know what you think! (sorry there's no smut lol)

♡——————-

It started with something simple—Joost asking a stranger to take a goofy photo of the two of you. At first, you hesitated. You hated looking silly in public, but Joost convinced you. “Come on, we’ll make a memory,” he said, grinning. So you agreed, and when you saw the photo, you couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And for the first time, you felt okay with being a little embarrassed.

It wasn’t just the photo, though. It was how Joost made you face uncomfortable moments. When you’d have little arguments, instead of shutting down like you usually did, you started to speak up. You’d always kept your anger inside, unable to say what needed to be said. But Joost would encourage you to share what you were feeling. “It’s okay to be angry. Just say it,” he’d tell you.

It was hard at first, but slowly, you learned to use your voice. Thanks to Joost, you finally started saying what you’d always kept inside.

“I’m sorry, what was the question again?” You asked, snapping out of your thoughts and looking up at the panel in front of you. The press conference had been a whirlwind, and the weight of everything—Eurovision, the song, Joost being so close—had you feeling a little overwhelmed.

“What would you say the song means?” The reporter repeated, and you nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Well,” you began, collecting your thoughts, “the song can mean a lot of things. I want people to be able to relate to it, and make it their own. But for me... it’s a reminder of something I was able to do.” You paused, your fingers gripping the table's edge as you tried to steady your racing heart. “I was able to start speaking my mind.”

The words felt heavier than they should’ve been, but they were true. It hadn’t been an easy thing to do, but it had been a turning point for you. The memory of Joost’s encouragement flashed in your mind, and suddenly, it was hard to focus. He was so close, just a few seats down, and the tension between you was undeniable. It had been a while since that moment—the confrontation, the apologies exchanged, the silent understanding hug you both shared afterward. The way you had both muttered a half-hearted “sorry” to each other, but in that hug, everything unsaid seemed to settle into place. It was messy but real. And even now, standing here in the middle of the press conference, the weight of that moment felt fresh.

You took a steadying breath and smiled at the reporter, finishing your thought. “So yeah, for me, this song is about finding the strength to speak up. To stop hiding behind fear and actually say what’s been bottled up for far too long.”

There was a brief silence as the room processed your words, and you forced your attention back to the sea of reporters, trying to shake off the heavy feeling in your chest.

“I think there’s one more question for you,” the guy standing behind you says, gesturing to a reporter who stands up, microphone in hand.

“If I may ask... There's a lot of buzz around your history with Joost Klein. Given that both of you are here at Eurovision, how do you feel about sharing this stage with him, considering your past together?"

You let out a laugh, an uncomfortable one, but something about it amuses you nonetheless—maybe it’s just the audacity of the question. You shake your head, trying to force the smile away, but it stays awkwardly in place.

“It’s been fine…” you say, the words coming out easier than you expected, though the nervous energy is still there, coiled tight in your chest. “Eurovision isn’t about personal history, it’s about art. And that’s what I’m here for.”

Thankfully, the reporter moved on to the next country, and you were finally able to let out a quiet breath of relief. You zoned out for the rest of the conference, Not even paying attention to Joost talking, the words swirling around you but not really sticking. All you could think about was how uncomfortable that question had made you, how it felt like everyone was prying into things you weren’t ready to discuss.

When the conference ended, you wasted no time in exiting the building, wanting nothing more than to escape the spotlight. You headed straight for the hotel where most of the contestants were staying, your mind racing as you trudged down the hallway. When you reached your room, you slumped onto the bed, not even bothering to change out of your clothes. You just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, too exhausted—physically and mentally—to do anything else.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, the soft light of the late afternoon spilling into your room. You didn’t wake up until the harsh buzz of your phone next to your head snapped you out of your sleep. Groggily, you checked the time: 8 p.m. Great. You’d slept the entire day away.

You rubbed your eyes and grabbed your phone, still half-dazed. The name that flashed on the screen made your heart skip—Joost.

You stared at your phone for a moment, the notification from Joost still blinking on the screen. It felt surreal to be hearing from him, especially after everything that had happened between the two of you. The message was short, but it still managed to twist something inside you:

"Hey, I'm in my room with a few of our friends. We’re drinking, if you want to come up and join us."

Your thumb hovered over the screen as you debated. It had been a long time since you’d hung out with him like that. Since you’d hung out with anyone, really. You’d been trying to avoid him as much as possible, but maybe it would be easier to be around him in a group. Maybe it would be... normal.

You stared at the message a little longer, half of you wanting to turn the phone off and pretend like nothing was happening, but the other half—probably the more curious half—wanted to know if he was serious. If he really wanted to make things right.

Sighing, you typed a quick response: “Alright, I’ll be up in a bit.” You tossed your phone on the bed, the weight of what was about to happen sinking in.

You took a moment to compose yourself, changing your clothes and running a brsuh through your hair, making sure you looked somewhat put together before heading out.

The elevator ride up to his floor felt longer than it actually was. Your heart raced, an odd combination of anxiety and anticipation gnawing at you. When you reached his room, you hesitated for a second before knocking.

The door opened quickly, revealing Joost with a slightly guilty smile as if he hadn’t expected you to actually show up. His expression softened when he saw you, and he stepped aside to let you in.

“Hey,” he greeted warmly. “Glad you could make it.”

Inside, the familiar faces of your mutual friends were spread out across the room—laughing, chatting, and passing drinks around. It felt like nothing had changed, but everything had. You didn’t know how to place yourself in this space anymore.

Joost gave you a quick glance, almost as if checking in on you. "You good?" he asked, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, trying to ignore the knot that had settled in your stomach. You didn’t want to make a scene, not here, not now. So you plastered on a small smile and turned to face the group.

The chatter around you was lighthearted, and for a moment, you almost forgot the tension that had been building between you and Joost for the past few months. They passed you a drink and you accepted it, trying to blend in.

As the night went on, you found yourself laughing at one of the jokes a friend made. Joost was just across the room, joining in on the banter, but his gaze kept flicking over to you every now and then, as if checking to see if you were okay.

The laughter helped, but it didn’t erase the fact that you were still standing on fragile ground with him. Still, you tried to ignore the unspoken things hanging between you two and focused on your friends, on the shared moments that had nothing to do with history or past mistakes.

This was a start—being able to spend time in the same room, to share a laugh without feeling like everything was a minefield. But there was still so much to untangle between you and Joost, and you didn’t know where it would lead.

For now, you were just here. And that was something.

You step out onto the balcony, taking in a deep breath as the cold air hits your skin. You pull out a pack of cigarettes, struggling slightly with the box before finally managing to get one free. You put it in your mouth, fumbling around in your pockets for a lighter, frustration mounting with each passing second.

Then the sliding door opens behind you, and you hear his voice—soft, almost as if he's trying not to startle you. "Need a lighter?"

You freeze for a split second, not expecting him to be there. Turning, you see Joost standing just inside the door, a lighter already in his hand, holding it out to you. His gaze is steady, but you can tell he’s unsure, like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the moment, but finally, you take the lighter from him, your fingers brushing against his. The contact is brief, but it feels like it lasts longer than it should. 

"Thanks," you mumble, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. The smoke fills your lungs, momentarily easing the tightness in your chest.

"Sorry for making that a bad habit of yours..." He says, chuckling lightly. The sound of his laughter vibrates through your body, and for a brief moment, it feels like things could go back to how they were—easy, natural.

But the weight of everything you've both been through makes that hope feel distant, and before you realize it, you're staring down at the street below. The bright lights of the city blur in your vision, a strange wave of emotion flooding over you. A tight knot forms in your throat, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes—unexpected, overwhelming.

You turn your head to the side, letting your forehead rest against the cold metal of the railing. The moment feels surreal, like you're not even sure why you're crying. Maybe it’s the recognition that, no matter what you both say, nothing will ever feel the same again. Maybe it’s the realization that there's no easy way to fix everything that’s been broken. No matter how much you want to.

You swallow hard, trying to steady yourself, but the words slip out before you can stop them. "I miss you."

Your voice cracks slightly, and you furrow your brow, the words coming out raw, like they're something you’ve been holding in for far too long. You don't even think about the fact that he just made a joke or what he said. All that matters is that you said it, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like the truth.

You keep your head down, unwilling to meet his eyes, afraid of what you might see there, what his response might be.

He keeps his back against the railing, staring down at his feet, his posture rigid like he’s bracing himself for something. The words seem stuck in his throat, and for a long moment, he doesn’t speak. The silence feels like it’s pulling at both of you, heavy and uncomfortable.

Finally, he murmurs, "Yeah... I miss you too..." His voice is small, like the words are hard to say, like he’s not sure where they fit anymore.

You chuckle bitterly, wiping your face, trying to clear the tear that’s threatening to fall. "This is fucking stupid..." you say, your voice thick with emotion, your chest tight. You straighten up from the railing, taking a deep breath, as if trying to shake off the vulnerability.

Joost lets out a quiet, almost frustrated sigh. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes fixed on the ground, but you can feel the pull between you, like the space between your bodies is too much for either of you to ignore anymore.

“It’s just…” You start, then falter, the words tangled up in your mind. Everything feels wrong and right at the same time, and you don’t even know where to begin. "I don’t know how we got here," you admit softly. "I miss you... but I don’t know if I can keep pretending things are fine when they’re not."

Joost looks over at you then, and for a second, his expression softens. His shoulders drop slightly, like the tension’s finally breaking. “I don’t know either,” he says, the quiet honesty in his voice pulling at something inside you. “But I don’t want to keep hurting you, and I don’t want to be hurting myself either.”

You let out a shaky breath, staring out at the city below, not sure how to put what you’re feeling into words. It’s all a mess, but maybe—just maybe—it’s a mess that doesn’t need fixing, only understanding.

Joost’s gaze flickers to you, searching for something in your face, like he’s trying to read the unspoken. He looks like he’s on the verge of saying something, but he pauses, as if weighing every word. "I don’t know how to fix what we were, or even what we are now," he admits, voice quiet. "But I don’t want to lose you completely... I never did."

You stood there, feeling the chill of the night air creep into your bones, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver. It was the way Joost's words hung in the air—like they were dragging you back to a day you couldn’t forget.

The sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. You woke up slowly, the remnants of sleep still tugging at your consciousness, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful, familiar. It wasn’t until you felt the absence of him beside you that you remembered where you were.

Joost’s apartment. The bed was still warm from the night before, and as you slowly turned over, you caught sight of him sitting on the edge of the couch, staring out the window, a contemplative silence hanging in the air.

It wasn’t strange, not really. You two had been here before. You’d shared nights like this, only for them to end with unspoken words and the quiet, inevitable distance that came after.

But today felt different.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and slowly made your way to the couch, your bare feet brushing against the cold floor. As you sat down next to him, Joost didn’t immediately acknowledge your presence. He just kept staring out the window, his jaw clenched like he was wrestling with something. When you glanced at him, you saw that there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a tenderness, an ache.

Then, without warning, his voice broke through the silence.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t said with the usual weight of regret or pain. No, it was simple—raw, even.

You blinked, not sure you heard him right. He turned to look at you then, his gaze soft but intense. Joost reached over, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed against yours. “I just—” He looked away, almost like he couldn’t bear to see your reaction, but his voice cracked as he continued. “I just want to be with you. Not because we’ve always been together, but because I truly love you, and I... I believe we could make it work again, if you wanted to.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and the weight of his love sat heavy in your chest. You opened your mouth, but the words caught in your throat. Finally, you sighed, pulling your hand gently from his, staring down at your lap.

With your voice breaking slightly you were able to muster up. “It’s not just about what I want anymore.” You paused, trying to steady your breath, the pressure of everything crashing down on you. “There’s so much happening, so much to do. I’m barely keeping up as it is. And if I tried to be with you... I just wouldn’t have the time. I’d be letting you down.”

Joost's eyes widened slightly, but you could see the understanding in them, even if the hurt lingered.

“I can’t give you what you need right now,” you finished, voice low and heavy. “And I can’t keep pretending that I can.”

There was a long silence between you two, the weight of it almost unbearable. Joost just stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached for your hand again, his fingers brushing against yours.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the sadness in his eyes. “Even if it takes time... I’ll wait for you.”

You felt the sting of his words settle deep inside you, the love and the hope so clear in his voice. And it broke your heart even more than you already thought possible. You shook your head gently, your voice firm despite the pain you were feeling.

“No. Don’t wait for me,” you said softly, but with a quiet finality that you couldn’t take back. “I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me. You deserve someone who can give you what you need now, not someone who’s always too busy, too far away.”

A car horn blaring below the balcony makes you realize where you are, the vulnerability hanging in the air between you two. "I’m not asking you to fix anything, Joost, I put us in this situation.” you say softly. "I just want to be real with you... for once. Even if it’s hard."

For the first time in what feels like forever, the distance between you two starts to shrink, not because you’re saying the right things, but because you’re finally letting yourselves be honest.

It felt like weeks had passed, but in reality, it had only been a couple of days. After that night, you and Joost slowly started to fall back into a familiar rhythm, chatting like friends, but both of you were still too cautious to tread into deeper waters. You performed one more time at Eurovision, but didn’t make it to the finals—and that was okay. You’d made it further than you expected, and honestly, you didn’t even want to win. Joost, on the other hand, was doing amazingly well. You were certain he was going to win, and you couldn’t help but feel proud of him, even from the sidelines.

Now, in Sweden, you were staying in a new hotel just a few doors down from Alanis and Apson, supporting Joost as best as you could. It had been a quiet morning, the kind where you could almost pretend everything was normal again. You were sitting up in bed, sipping your coffee, when the sudden sound of frantic knocking at your door startled you.

You furrowed your brow, setting the mug aside as you got up and opened it. Standing there, breathing heavily, was Alanis. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed with anger. You hadn't seen her like this in a long time.

"Alanis? You okay?" you asked, your voice hesitant, unsure if she was messing with you.

“They kicked Joost out,” she spat, her words coming out in one sharp breath.

You blinked, processing what she’d said. The words didn’t make sense at first. You gave her a confused, half-hearted smile, thinking maybe she was just messing with you.

“What?” you asked, unsure if she was joking.

Alanis didn’t laugh. Her face was set in a hard expression, her frustration palpable. "I’m serious. They kicked him out—he’s done." She spoke fast, her tone urgent.

The room seemed to shift around you, the news sinking in slowly. You felt your stomach twist. Joost? Kicked out? It was like a punch to the gut. Everything about this felt wrong, and for a moment, you couldn’t quite find the words to respond. 

You stared at Alanis, still processing the shock, as if trying to make sense of the chaos in her words. They kicked Joost out? It didn’t seem possible, not with everything he’d worked for. Not after everything he’d been through. You took a step back into your room, running a hand through your hair as the weight of her words settled in.

"Wait, slow down," you said, your voice shaky, trying to keep yourself grounded. "What happened? How could they just kick him out?"

Alanis’s eyes flashed with frustration. "I don’t know the full story, but... I think it has something to do with a disagreement backstage" She said, shaking her head like the whole situation didn’t make sense to her either.

You felt your heart hammer in your chest. You could see it now—the strain in Alanis's face, the way she was holding herself back from snapping. Joost was your friend, and whether things had been messy or not between the two of you, you couldn’t ignore the fact that this was huge. You couldn’t let him face this alone.

"Where is he now?" you asked, urgency creeping into your voice. "What do we do?"

Alanis sighed, pacing in place as she ran a hand through her hair. "I don’t know. I tried calling him, but he’s not picking up. I think he’s somewhere near the venue, but..." Her voice trailed off, frustration mixing with fear. You nodded, cutting her off without even thinking twice. "Let’s go find him."

You and Alanis hurried through the quiet streets of Sweden, the tension thick in the air as you both made your way to the venue. Alanis’s anger and frustration hadn’t subsided, and you couldn’t blame her—Joost was one of her closest friends. You were worried too, but mostly, you just wanted to be there for him.

When you finally arrived, the venue felt strangely quiet. The usual buzz of the competition had died down, and you could almost feel the heaviness in the air. Alanis led the way through the entrance, her steps quick and determined. The closer you got to the backstage area, the more you felt the anxiety clawing at you, but you kept pushing forward.

As you rounded the corner near the back, you spotted Apson. He was standing by a door, arms crossed, looking impatient but also visibly concerned.

"Hey," Alanis called out, rushing to his side. "Where’s Joost?"

Apson looked up at the two of you and gave a small, sympathetic nod. "He’s around," he said, voice low. "I’ll take you to him."

Without waiting for a response, Apson turned and led the way down a narrow hallway. You and Alanis followed closely behind, barely exchanging glances. Every step felt like it carried more weight, the reality of the situation sinking in deeper.

You finally reached a small, dimly lit room at the end of the hallway. Apson knocked softly on the door before opening it. Joost was sitting on the floor against the far wall, his face hidden in his hands, shoulders hunched in defeat, still wearing his big blue pants from the practices earlier that morning. It was the first time you’d seen him like this—utterly broken, as though all the air had been sucked out of the room.

You stepped into the room slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. Alanis hesitated for a second, but you gave her a reassuring look and she stepped forward, her presence comforting but gentle. Joost looked up, but there was no smile. No words either.

"Joost…" you started softly, moving closer to him. "Are you okay?"

He didn’t respond right away, just looked at you with tired, distant eyes. His gaze flickered toward Alanis but quickly shifted back to the floor. "I don’t even know what to say," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You felt a pang of sadness for him. This wasn’t the Joost you knew—the one who laughed easily, joked around, and seemed to always have things under control. This was someone who felt like he’d lost everything.

After a few long moments of silence, Joost finally exhaled, his breath shaky. "They kicked me out… Just like that." His voice cracked as he spoke, the pain clear in his tone. "Everything I worked for... gone."

The words hung heavy in the air, and it hit you hard—he wasn’t just dealing with the rejection of Eurovision, but with everything that came with it. The disappointment, the pressure, the overwhelming weight of expectation.

"I’m sorry," you said quietly, trying to find the right words. "But we’re here, Joost. We’re not going anywhere."

You glanced at Alanis, and she gave a small, understanding nod. "We’ll figure this out," she added.

Joost didn’t say anything right away. His head dropped again, shoulders slumping in resignation. But after a few moments, he let out a deep breath and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He nodded, slowly at first, and then more firmly.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice still hoarse. "I know."

Alanis stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We’re gonna give you two some space," she said softly, giving you a glance that conveyed everything she didn’t need to say.

You nodded, grateful for her understanding. Alanis offered Joost one last sympathetic glance before walking out of the room, Apson following behind her.

The door clicked shut softly, leaving you alone with Joost in the dimly lit room. You didn’t feel the need to speak—just being there, sitting next to him, was enough.

After a long while, you stood up and extended your hand to Joost. "Come on," you said gently. "Let’s go back to my hotel. You need rest."

Joost looked up at you, and for the first time since you’d seen him, his expression softened. He stood slowly, taking your hand without a word. As you left the room and walked through the empty halls, the weight of the situation felt a little lighter, knowing you weren’t alone in it.

The walk back to the hotel felt like a blur. But you were relieved to be away from the chaos of the venue, just the two of you, heading toward a quiet place where you could both just breathe.

When you finally got to the hotel room, you led Joost inside and sat him down on the bed, keeping things calm and low-key. No questions, no expectations. Just a space to exist without the weight of the world on his shoulders for a while.

He looked at you, exhaustion in his eyes, but there was a slight sense of relief there too. Whatever had happened, whatever was going to happen next, you were there—and that was all that mattered in that moment.

He smiled, and you could see it—one of those rare, genuine smiles, the kind that didn’t come around often. It was a smile that felt like it hadn't appeared in months, and seeing it on his face made your chest tighten in a way you couldn't explain.

"This is stupid," he said, his voice a mix of exhaustion and amusement, and you couldn't help but chuckle at how much his expression had shifted. He looked more like the Joost you knew.

You met his gaze, offering him a nervous but sincere smile in return. “This is stupid,” you agreed, feeling the absurdity of it all. He had taken your own words from just a few days ago, and suddenly it felt like things were falling back into place, in the most unexpected way.

A comfortable silence followed as you both sat on the bed. There was no need to say anything more—neither of you had to explain why this was stupid, or how everything seemed to be unraveling. What mattered was that, for the first time in a while, it felt like you were both finally acknowledging how ridiculous the situation was.

The days following merged into a blur of chaotic yet comforting memories. So many people were angry—but not at Joost. No, the anger was directed at the unfairness of it all. Everyone, absolutely everyone, supported him. It was almost overwhelming how much love came his way. Apson had even started making funny TikToks about the whole situation and his fans responded with the same kind of understanding and loyalty. It was exactly what Joost needed. He was surrounded by people who genuinely cared, and they let him know in the loudest, most reassuring way.

You uploaded a picture of you and Joost together, both of you smiling wide, arms casually draped around each other like the world hadn’t thrown you both through the ringer. The caption was simple, "Gangs Back."

Within seconds, the comments section flooded with love, support, and messages of encouragement. The online world had rallied behind Joost just as much as his friends had. People were rooting for him, and it was a reminder that, despite the chaos of Sweden, things could still feel like they were on the right track.

When you both finally made it back to the Netherlands, it felt like returning to a place where everything could be normal again. Joost went back to doing his shows, his music, and his fans' adoration never wavered. You followed along, supporting him as you always had. It was almost like nothing had changed. Except now, there was a quiet understanding between you both, something unspoken but comforting.

Nights spent together, whether in your apartment or his, became routine again. It wasn’t about the cameras or the spotlight; it was just about being there for each other, in the quiet moments, when the world outside wasn’t so loud.

After a party at one of Joost’s shows, you stepped out onto the balcony, craving a moment of quiet. The night air was cool, and the city’s buzz faded just enough to let your thoughts drift. You pulled out a cigarette, flicking your lighter before it sparked to life, lighting the tip. The sound of the sliding door behind you opened, and you didn't need to look to know it was Joost. His presence was like a familiar song that you didn’t even need to hear to recognize.

You didn’t say anything at first, just inhaling the smoke deeply before turning around to face him. He was standing there, his eyes catching yours for a moment before looking away shyly. You grinned at the familiarity of it all and smiled playfully.

“I’m having déjà vu,” you said softly, your eyes softening as you spoke. The moment felt like something from the past, like you were stepping into a memory you both couldn’t quite escape.

Joost smiled back at you, but you could tell there was something different in the air now. His chin quivered slightly, and his attempt to speak seemed to stumble. He let out a laugh, nervous, before the words slipped out quickly, too fast for you to fully catch.

“I uhm…” He faltered, still laughing at himself. “Ik houd van jou.”

Your eyes widened for a second before you chuckled, shaking your head. You hadn’t spoken Dutch in a long time, but there was one phrase you knew all too well. “Yeah, I…” you began, but Joost interrupted you before you could finish.

“Nee, ik hou zoveel van je…” His voice dropped, sounding both serious and fragile. “Really, I can’t… Ik wil jou, jij betekent alles voor mij.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t understand all of it, but the rawness in his voice, the weight of what he was saying—it hit you. He had always switched between English and Dutch when he was nervous, and it was clear now that he was trembling beneath the weight of his own words. The way his hands reached for your face, pulling you gently toward him, made your stomach tighten.

He was nervous. And yet, he was being brave in a way that made everything feel so much more real.

You chuckled softly, the sound escaping your lips nervously as you let him pull you closer. “I don’t understand all of it,” you murmured, your voice shaky. But you didn’t need to. The emotion in his eyes said everything you couldn’t find the words for.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the pulse of anticipation making it harder to breathe. The small gap between you is driving you insane, like something so close yet so unreachable. Without thinking, you stand up on your tiptoes, the movement natural, desperate even, as you close the distance between you. Your lips finally meet, and everything else fades away.

His lips are warm, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. But when he feels you lean into him, his hands find your waist, pulling you even closer, deepening the kiss

You pull away, For a long moment, neither of you say anything. Joost’s hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing over the skin like he’s still trying to figure out if this is real.

It was always easier to walk away back then, to tell yourself you were making the right choice, but hearing him say it now... it hit differently.

You look up at him, biting your lip as you search for the right words. You didn’t have a good explanation for what you did—at least, not one that felt right now. "I know," you finally say quietly, "I’m sorry."

There’s a long silence between you two, the kind where everything you want to say gets tangled up with everything you don’t know how to say. You think about how much time you both lost, how many things could’ve been different if you hadn’t walked away that day.

He takes a slow breath, eyes locked on you. "It’s alright," he says softly, his voice steady as he presses kisses on your cheek, jawline, and down your neck. "I have you now, Nietwaar?”

You nod and smile “You have me now”

♡-------------------

[fourswords]

shadow's sacrifice being ultimately selfish in nature—wanting to save the one person who was somewhat kind to him without any strings attached for the first time in his short life—is one of the best things about the whole thing tbh. like here he is coming off the ass end of vio's betrayal and being vaporized by the light of the four sword and begging ganon not to revive him because he's absolutely terrified of the light and ganon ignoring him and dragging him back into it anyway and suddenly he comes face to face with zelda, shaking and sobbing like the world's most pathetic little leaf in a hurricane, and like. the thing about zelda's words to him is that they aren't even. about shadow??? as a person??? to be honest???

she looks at him and says he can be a hero because he's a LINK. because despite her previous hostility with him she sees this warped image of her best friend come crawling out of the dark mirror all hurt and scared and "faint and twisted echo" or not...he still wears the face of her best friend. and because of that i think she IS kind of projecting her own emotions about seeing her friend's face in so much pain. i mean, hell, when the dark cloud takes her, it's LINK she calls for. when she KNOWS that shadow and link aren't the same person. but projection or not, she gave shadow the first truly kind words he ever heard in his life, even if they were less about HIS character and more about link's. so when she calls for link, he answers. and that's what drives him to take on vio's image, to aid the other links, to smash the chair into the dark mirror and kill himself to take vaati down with him.

BUT! one thing i do love is that his ACTUAL acceptance of the light came when green told him that he was one of them. one panel that drives me absolutely rabid is when shadow is still disguised as vio and green finds him and instantly starts fussing over him—asking him if he's hurt, if he's alright, telling him to lean on him, etc., and when green reaches out for his hand shadow reaches back for him with his own trembling hand for just a moment before rejecting the offer ("don't worry about me." in the fan translation/"i... i'm fine." in the viz translation) and redirecting green's attention to the fact that zelda's in danger. but when green (the second person ever to be kind to him without strings attached, even though, as with zelda, it wasn't strictly for HIM at first) looks down at him and smiles and tells him that he's one of them (that he isn't alone), THAT'S when shadow reaches towards the light and accepts it without fear, wholly and completely. THAT'S him reaching back for green's hand—when green looks at him and actually sees HIM, as his own person, and still counts him as one of them anyway, even after everything. and given that shadow is still alive once the links become link as a whole again, no matter how much i think link and shadow would grumble at and argue with each other for shadow's villain spree and vio's betrayal and whatnot, that interaction is always going to be present in their minds. it's gonna be like "congratulations douchebag! now you're stuck with me no matter what! sucks to be you!" on both their ends and zelda is very kindly not going to point out that they're both grinning like morons when they turn away from each other after butting heads for the millionth time. you see my vision

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

I Fell For Her (literally)

Jenna Ortega X Fem!reader

Summary: Jenna meets Y/N at a fan event

Y/N's POV

Tonight was finally the night.

I grew up watching her on TV. At first it was just in commercials, but she slowly became more and more integrated into my TV programs.

When she got her own show, Stuck in the Middle, I started to pay more and more attention to her. I kept watching all of the projects she was in. The scream movies, X, The Fallout, You, American Carnage, and of much of her interviews and PR events. I've practically grown up alongside her.

She has no idea who I am, though.

Tonight, that's going to change.

Tonight I am going to meet Jenna Ortega.

...

I pull up to the expo right about when it starts, making sure I have my tickets.

I spend the first few hours looking at all of the merch and talking to other people at the event. everyone's so excited for the panel with the cast of Wednesday.

The panel itself was exciting, and I loved getting to see the cast live. Even if it was from far way.

After the panel, people run out of the convention space in a blur, practically climbing on top of each other.

It's loud, people are screaming, and the space reeks of weed and booze. 

It takes me forever just to get out of the building. By the time the people part and I can make a exit, I run for it. I need to get out.

I make it out of the area, but not without violently colliding with someone. I fall to the floor, directly on top of someone

"I'm so sorry!" I say quickly, "I didn't see you there."

"Don't worry about it," the girl under me says. I look down to see the girl I fell onto is non other than Jenna Marie Ortega. Shit. I scramble up to my feet, I can see her security team making it's way towards me. 

"Oh my god, can I help you up?" I ask. She's even prettier in person.

"I'm good, but thank you," she smiles, getting to her feet, "what's your name."

"I'm Y/n," I tell her, shaking her hand.

"Miss Ortega, is this girl causing you any trouble?" her team finally catches up to us.

"No not at all, it was an honest mistake," she tells them. I sigh in relief.

"Don't worry, I'm not one of your haters. Actually like the exact opposite. I'm such a huge fan, I've seen all of you projects!" I ramble, "you're like one of my favorite people. Oh my god I can't believe I crashed into you, I'm so so sorry."

"It's fine," she laughs, "I'm so glad I could meet such a devout fan." she gestures to my Tara Carpenter final girl T shirt.

"Oh my god, this is so embarrassing," I laugh awkwardly.

"Believe me, you're a lot better than some of my fans," she assures me.

"Why thank you."

"Well of course," she goes along with the old-timey politeness.

"Miss Ortega, your car is here," her guard informs her.

"Oh, of course. Well, Y/N, it was so nice to meet you! Maybe I'll see you some time soon!"

"Maybe!"

Oh my god. I can't believe I had a whole conversation with Jenna Ortega. 

[emkayewrites]

These two pictures inspired one of the chapters of my Lukola fanfiction called 'Curtain Fall'...

Here's a sneak preview:

17th June 2022 – Brockenhurst (UK)

Everything about The Pig exuded charming British elegance. Nestled in the heart of the historic New Forest National Park, the homely country manor served as a five-star hotel with an acclaimed restaurant. It was a favourite weekend escape for city dwellers who were attracted to it for its natural beauty; from free-roaming local horses to ancient woodlands that were perfect for long walks.

It was a place particularly revered for offering the finest of traditional English dining without excessive pretension. The dining rooms had a rustic, cosy charm, featuring open fires and mismatched antique furniture.

Nicola and Luke sat opposite each other at a farmhouse-style table in a private dining room called the Green Room that was reserved for special guests. A Victorian-style fireplace and floor-to-ceiling conservatory doors opened onto a private garden terrace. Before them lay a half-eaten feast: salads with organic vegetables from the estate's garden, freshly baked bread with warm butter, a plate of oyster mushroom pappardelle for her, and a sourdough pizza for him.

They had been invited to this countryside retreat for the weekend courtesy of the production team. This was their first day and they had been greeted with a prepared lunch. He sat there in a slightly over-sized salmon button-down shirt and jeans. In contrast, she was dressed in a little more sophistication. She wore a dark tapestry mini dress with tie shoulders that cinched in her waist in a way she hoped would be flattering.

"You know, when Jess told me we should get bonding, she mentioned doing it over a coffee. This is a little more than a coffee." Nicola laughed, trying to shake the awkwardness off herself. She was used to spending time with Luke but this setting felt different. It felt intimate.

"It's on brand though." Luke replied, nodding at their surroundings. He was not wrong. This could be a room straight from Bridgerton.

She reached out and touched the green wall panels.

"What do you reckon this is – Farrow and Ball?" She quizzed.

"What's that?"

"You haven't heard of Farrow and Ball?"

He shrugged in an I don't know what to tell you sort of way.

"Well, that surprises me. Maybe you're not as posh as I think you are." She teased. "It's very posh paint, with pretentious names like Elephant's Fanny and Leopard's Arse."

He laughed. "OK, that's quite enough. You need to stop calling me posh. People might start believing you and expecting things from me."

"Anything east of Dublin is posh," she retorted, making him laugh again.

This is what she thrived on: banter. Their friendship was based on her dry wit and sarcasm. Making him or anyone else on set laugh was a small victory for her.  She was trying hard not to think about having to switch gears and drop the humour she wore as armour.

She had not wanted to admit it, but sitting across from him now, it was harder to deny: he was absolutely beautiful. To make matters worse, he was kind too.

Why couldn't the love interest be someone with a hideous personality in real life? She found herself wandering.

She was barely out of her reverie when he reached out and wrapped his hand around hers, guiding it gently away from the wall and in front of his face, inches from his lips. He took a deep breath, and his blue eyes bore into her own.

Oh God, that was his Colin face.

You can read more here: