#your breath would smell HORRIBLE

[p00kietin]

What do Roxie and Brittany taste like

Brittany would taste extremely sweet, like marshmallows and candyfloss.

as for Roxie... (spoilers, censored organs.)

not so nice.

[milo-is-rambling]

Now why the hell do I have such intensely realistic dreams I had to wake up and stare at the ceiling for like ten minutes to make sure I was alive.

[opheliac]

came up with the script i wish i could yell at my parents while walking home. they've gotten so much worse in the last half year and i need to fucking escape !!!!!!!! it is not fucking healthy or sustainable to live like this, to be in this environment.

[frogchiro]

virgin sacrifice reader offered to war god ghost?? prepare to be his lovely wife instead of a sacrifice with at least 10 demigods running around, he wants to raise strong warriors!

Ghost would definitely be a god similiar to Ares; a god of war, brutality, bloodshed, masculinity and virility. Men go and pray by his shrine or in his dedicated temple to give them strength in both battle and bed, to be a strong and unbeatable warrior and be able to father strong, healthy children.

One such temple, the main one, is in a surprisingly remote location, surrounded not by a major city or capital but a few villages. According to myths it was this place where a brutal battle took place millenia ago where the fearsome god Ghost defeated an army all by himself, the blood of his slain enemies served to make the land fertile and for many villages to grow and prosper...until now.

Usually sacrifaces to appease the god would be made by the men of the villages; black stallions, the strongest bulls, wine, silver and pure steel, everything that has connections to masculinity and power, however some kind of horrible fatum seems to hang over your little village. The animals either die young or are sickly and weak, the wine turns out sour like vinegar, there in so money to buy anything either and it's taken as a curse by the elders. If nothing will be done and Ghost won't have his sacrifice who knows what will happen?

So they decide on the next best thing, a desperate last choice reach in hopes to appease the brutal god-a virgin sacrifice. The prettiest, unmarried and untouched young woman is to be chosen, dressed in the finest, gauzy silks and locked inside the stone temple in hopes that the god will come down and the blood of a slain virgin will calm his fury. Luck wasn't on your side it seems, you were chosen.

All you could remember were the desperate cries of your mother, the dissapointed remorseful look on your father's face and the ritual cleansing of the old crones in the village. You were cleaned in rose water, intricate patterns were drawn with a mixture of honey, mushed up berries and flowers on your breasts, around your nipples and bellybutton, and the most intricate was drawn on the place where your womb was. You were clothed in a white gauzy dress that was a symbol of your purity and then you were bound and dragged to the temple no matter how much you struggled and kicked and pleaded until you were finally locked in the dimly lit temple, only the many candles present to lighten the main chamber and to show the powerful, majestic sculpture of the god, Ghost.

Imagine crying yourself to sleep, everything hurt, you were scared and confused, all alone to die in this forsaken temple because some old men decided on it. Falling asleep out of exhaustion, the images of your crying, terrified mother haunting you even when sleeping.

Imagine waking up and instead of feeling cold and sore from sleeping on the unforgiving stone floor, and instead finding yourself laying on and under the most luxurious furs you've ever seen, the warmth of them felt like a blanket and the smell of them, pleasant warm masculine musk made a shiver run down your spine, just where were you?

Before you had the chance of looking around the room, you felt huge, strong arms clamping togehter around you and bringing you into a powerful, broad chest which rumbled with a growl like purr and a stern voice saying:

"Stay. Don't move around girl."

And the very same arms turned you gently around to face the man behind you and you couldn't help but gasp and breath out a tiny, frightened yelp-behind you was laying a man who looked like the stone sculpture of Ghost cane to life and became human. It...it was Ghost. You laid next to a god.

[dickaspointed]

𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑩𝑬𝑫𝑺 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑬𝑵- !

𝘚𝘔𝘜𝘛 !! 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴.

HEESEUNG felt all too giddy with you in the same bed as him. he couldn’t help but sneak glances and looks here and there, especially when the moon cascaded over your little body compared to his. you barely took up half the bed in comparison to him, and don’t get him started on those short shorts and tank top that did horrible jobs at hiding your modesty. by one am, your legs are thrown over the creases of his elbows, his name rolling off your tongue like a mantra as your shorts dangled just over his shoulder. he couldn’t keep his desires at bay.

SUNGHOON acted tough like sharing a bed with you was no big deal, but on the inside it was an internal battle for him not to pop a boner. that stupid moomoo you wore that accentuated your breasts and ass definitely didn’t help keep one from forming in his sweats. he promised to keep it PG tonight but when you slid into bed besides him, smelling like a fresh sweet cake he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. he pulled orgasm after orgasm from you until your moomoo was somewhere over the clouds, your chest and throat covered in hickies he’d have to explain tomorrow.

JAY was decently good at keeping his composure. he had shared a bed with you numerous times, but this time it was different because this time you were his. with your ass pressed to his pelvis, his hand underneath your top, gently fondling your right breast he tried to lull off to sleep. but your whiny moans and twitching ultimately ruined all the composure he had. flipping you onto your stomach, he mounted from behind, tearing your shorts and panties off in a slick motion for better access. the others wouldn’t let you two share a room anymore because they got no sleep with how loud you were.

JAKE purposefully made sure every trip that you two ended up together, if that meant bribing everyone with lots of money so they’d willingly book a hotel with one less room for everyone. Jake would sadly break the news to you, pouting to really add to the bit. in the end, it worked in his favor because you’d be straddling him that night, his hair between your fingers as you rode him like your life depended on it. Jungwon would end up banging on the door, asking you two to kindly “shut the fuck up.”

SUNOO was nervous every time you had to bunk with him. he’d go the extra mile to make sure you were comfortable, he wouldn’t even sleep without socks. one night, all of that flew right out of the open window when you cuddled up to him, tucking your face into his collarbone. your soft whimpers of enjoyment fueled something inside of him, he tapped your back gently. it was nothing but fireworks from that night on, blissful orgasms that made both of you see stars and shake violently against one another.

JUNGWON being the leader it was only right that he let you bunk with him. he had a set of rules that seemed to go right through the floor when you came back from a steamy shower with dewy skin and a nighty that hugged your body in all the right places. you asked him if this was alright for his “rules”, whilst smoothing your hands down your body. he sucked in a deep breath, looking towards the door before ultimately deciding whether or not he wanted to be ridiculed in the morning. needless to say, after an eventful, blissful night with Jungwon, that nighty was ripped to shreds and he had to explain what all those weird sounds were last night.

NI-KI put his cold feet up the back of your shirt and kicked you off the bed with both very large feet.

K BYE!!

actually, before i leave i wanted to say thanks for all the reblogs and likes!!! i really appreciate whomever likes and blogs, thanks a ton! and please if you feel comfortable (AND 18+ because i’m not playing) leave some requests of what you wanna see and what member !! besides ni-ki <3

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Aegon The Burnt

Aegon II Targaryen x sister!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: infidelity (reader is Aemond's wife), incest, spoilers of s2ep5. Just something short and self indulgent, hope you like it!

masterlist

taglist: @barnes70stark

When you arrived at Aegon's chambers, he was alone. Your mother wasn’t by his side, nor was his wife Helaena, much less Aemond, who you were sure had been the cause of all that. Everyone was crazy, the war for power was making everyone's head sick in the Red Keep and it had ended up bringing you to that point.

When you learned that your brother had gone into battle when he wasn’t required, you knew that the consequences were going to be disastrous and you even hoped that upon returning to King's Landing the star news was the death of the king. But thank the gods he was still alive, fighting, but alive.

You hadn't dared to look at him until that moment, mentally unable to think that his body had been stained at the hands of dragon fire. Targaryens don't burn, do they? Could it be your ancestors punishing Aegon’s recklessness?

And you were sure they would punish the sin of parading a dragon's head around town. They were sacred, they were your emblem and your heritage... you thought that your mother would have this more in mind and that she wouldn’t approve of that kind of massacre. You couldn't imagine your beloved Kaeryss going into battle, dead at the hands of the enemy or perhaps even your own brother.

But now it was a dragon war, not even men could stop it.

“For the seven…” you sobbed softly, you barely got close to your brother and the whole smell of burnt flesh and rot filled your nostrils.

The maester had managed to do a few things to him, he was completely bandaged and was breathing heavily, a hiss leaving his lips with every exhale he took. It was a horrible sight to see for anyone, much less the only person who had genuinely loved Aegon.

The sight made you stagger back and you had to hold on to the bedposts to keep from falling. The worst thing of all was to think that it was the king who had brought this on himself, no matter how much they wanted to convince all his subjects that he had fought bravely and had struck down Meleys.

If you had known before what he intended to do, you would have implored him to stop, you would have persuaded him with kisses and cuddles to stay in the palace. Damn, you would have gotten him drunk and fucked for hours if it kept him safe. Or ultimately, you would have told him how stupid he was for trying to go to war solely on a whim, with a dragon with no experience in battle being ridden by a man with less experience.

But past mistakes couldn't be corrected just by thinking about all the possibilities, instead you had to face the consequences.

You looked at him for a moment, trying to put aside the tremendous disgust that the burning flesh produced in you. If you dared to say that out loud, you knew that Aegon would feel tremendously hurt, since he had never boasted of having the best self-esteem, so you had to be cautious with your words and gestures when he came to his senses.

You took a seat next to the bed, in a modest chair that had surely been occupied by someone else hours before, and you tried to hold back the tears that were already gathering in your eyes. While you saw the king lying in bed, at risk of dying at any moment, you wondered how far this conflict would go.

Aegon had always expressed that he didn’t want to be king and now that he was, he turned out to be a useless one. You weren’t going to soften truths in your mind, because you, as everyone knew, that the king's claim had been a treacherous one. You had been happy that your sister could aspire to be a queen, even if you hated her and her unbearable descent. But hating her didn't mean you wanted to see so many people die, much less the innocent and weak ones as always happened.

Sometimes you wondered what would have happened if your parents had married you to Aegon instead of your brother Aemond. You couldn't blame Helaena for hating her husband, just as you hated yours, perhaps for different reasons but with the same impetus. You probably would have preferred to marry him because of the treatment he had always offered you, being kind, loving and careful. And you knew that it was wrong to love him secretly from your husband and that it was a very serious offense for a lady, but you didn't care and you assumed that if Aemond knew, he didn't care either. He never loved you, you didn't know the reasons but you were sure of it.

One of your hands traveled to the man lying on the bed to take it, carefully, and you gently caressed the healthy skin that still remained.

“Mummy?” you heard, like an almost imperceptible moan. Aegon could barely open his right eye weakly.

“No, no, honey. It’s me,” you whispered sweetly, leaning slightly so he could hear you over the smell of rot. You said your name out loud just in case he didn't recognize your voice.

He wanted to say something, but at first the tremendous pain in his chest prevented him from doing so. The maester said that he must have had many internal injuries and that only time and the grace of the gods could decide if those injuries were serious enough to kill him. You hoped not.

“My princess,” he managed to gesture.

You were always called that way, simply because Aegon considered that you did him full honor to the title and because you seemed to him his and no one else's.

“Don't try too hard,” you whispered motherly, reaching out to rub the right side of his face with unexpected love. You had to stay calm to ignore the burns. “You need to rest.”

Aegon, from his vulnerable position, looked at you sadly and you saw a tear escape his eye. It was as if with that look he was expressing to you everything he couldn't tell you.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you asked worried. It was an obvious answer, you thought, but you at least wanted him to realize that the situation mattered to you.

When he nodded weakly, you felt tremendously sorry for him. Seeing him like this completely broke your heart and if you could have done it, you would have wished you could take away all that pain in a second.

“My poor boy…” you murmured softly, still caressing his cheek gently. The man felt as if your touch was magical, healing in every way: the simple fact of having you close comforted him.

“Stay?"

“Of course I do, Aegon,” you said in a whisper.

“I'm… I'm horrendous”

“You're not,” you responded to his sob. The last thing you wanted was for him to think that you were despising him, like everyone else was going to do. You had managed to gain his trust before, however, with this physical change you knew that his fears would only increase “I love you always, honey. I promise"

And as a sign of this, you leaned close enough to place a kiss on his lips. You were very careful not to touch his wounded skin and tried to be as kind as possible with him. You wanted to show him that you weren't afraid of him, nor disgusted by him, as he was probably thinking.

There was no purer love like the one you were showing him and Aegon felt unworthy of it.

"Please… don’t leave”

“I won't,” you assured him, sitting back down and leaning against the mattress. “Don't be afraid, I'm here and I'll stay to take care of you all night, okay?”

Aegon cried silently and tried to hold on to the feeling of your hand holding his, for it was the only feeling that would keep him sane. He felt that as long as you continued to love him and stayed with him, he could overcome any adversity.

[kihyunsflavor]

Cold shoulder

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x f!reader

Summary: You are married to Feyd-Rautha, but on his birthday Margot Fenring follows him in the hallways to lure him into her chambers.

Warnings: smut, heartbreak, angst, pet names, breeding kink, manipulation (not reader)

word count: 4.6k

Author's note: English is not my first language. Feedback is very much appreciated <3

A cold breeze grazes your skin as the door to your shared chambers opens, sending a shiver down your spine. He enters with heavy steps and your breath stops for a moment when you catch a foreign feminine scent in the air. You immediately know.

"I'm back, wife," Feyd Rautha says, slowly approaching where you stand. You don't respond. A painful lump forms in your throat as your emotions are all over the place. Big hands gently grab your waist from behind. The scent of the woman still lingers on his skin. It tightens your chest and turns your stomach. You have never felt so sick before. She had her hands on him and he allowed it.

You don't want to believe your own thoughts, wishing this reality wasn't true. She had taken him from you. Your beloved husband, the person you love more than anyone else, with whom you share everything. He is the center of your world.

You turn to face him. "You're back late..." you say, your voice steady but your lower lip quivering.

For a split second, his expression wavers, confirming your suspicions. Feyd starts to speak, but you cut him off. "Don't bother lying. I can smell her on you."

His eyes widen, a hint of guilt flickering across his face, an emotion you've never seen from him before.

"I didn't want to. The witch invaded my mind," he attempts to explain. But you can't believe him. Not after this. He humiliated you, made you feel worthless.

His hand reaches for your cheek but you push it way. „Don‘t touch me.“

Oh how could he betray you like this? How could he share such an intimate moment with another woman?

„I can't believe you did this," you sway, your voice trembling with dissapointment. Tears well up in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. He's not worth your tears. Not a single one.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. His words pierce your heart, shattering it into pieces.

It kills you.

The room falls into a heavy silence. His eyes plead with you, his hands twitching as if wanting to pull you close. The very thought makes you cringe.

"I never want to see you again," you say as you move past him. He reaches out for you, but you're too quick. Just before disappearing into the dark corridor, you look back at him. "It hurts - so much."

With that, you're gone.

Feyd doesn't follow. He knows he destroyed everything.

You move into a new section of the Harkonnen residence, consisting of a bedroom and a study, far away from your husband. All your belongings and clothes are brought in by your servants to help you settle into your new quarters. You hear whispers among the servants about Feyd's initial anger, refusing to let them move your belongings. Eventually, he seemed to give in and just let them continue, which was unusual for someone like him who rarely yielded so easily. But you pay it no mind, trying to forget about him. He did this to himself.

The first few nights are horrible. You struggle to sleep, feeling alone and haunted by nightmares of him. Each time you see a black veiled woman, luring him into her chambers. When you wake up, your clothes cling to your sweaty skin. You brush your hair back from your face and scan the dimly lit room. It is pretty similar to your old chambers but you've tried to make it feel different with some interior changes.

You hadn't yet discovered who the Bene Gesserit was that had been with your husband, but you were determined to find out.

With your family's influential name, you planned to write to your sister, hoping she could uncover the truth for you.

The days go by slowly, and to your relief you don't see Feyd at all. The pain of looking into his eyes would be too much to bear. Your heart was broken and would take a long time to heal.

You'd never known love before, never had any real crushes growing up. But then, you were sent to marry the na-Baron of Giedi Prime. You hadn't objected, obediently following your father's wishes. Meeting Feyd changed everything. He ignited a passion within you, made you feel enchanted and yearning for him.

Even if he was cold at first, Feyd proved to be a devoted husband. Drawn to your beautiful appearance and your kind but brave soul, it didn't take him long to warm up to you. You could tell he had fallen for you too.

The wedding night marked the peak of your feelings for him, deepening your love. You were nervous he might handle you roughly, especially since it was your first time, so you had asked him not to hurt you. „That‘s what concubines are for. I'd never hurt my wife,“ Feyd had assured you then, having already dismissed his concubines prior to the wedding.

But in the end, his words proved to be a lie. He had kept his promise until now, when he let the Bene Gesserit woman touch him.

It was hard to believe Feyd had done something like this. Loyalty and trust were values he held in high regard. He always looked down on those who lacked loyalty; it was a matter of honor to him.

And now here you are, sitting alone at the table to eat your dinner. You had instructed your servants to bring your meals to your chambers from now on, because there was no chance you'd dine with your husband. Even if he came to fetch you himself, you wouldn't budge an inch. But Feyd hasn't come. Days have passed since you left him, and he still hasn't shown his face, which you're really relieved about.

He knew you well, knew that you needed space, but this time it was different. He couldn't just apologize and gift you something to make amends. This time, there was nothing for you to forgive him for. And if the Bene Gesserit were to get pregnant before you, his actual wife, it would be unbearable.

The thought fills you with anger and jealousy. You wouldn't allow this to happen. You should be the only one to give him an heir.

As you return to your room after a brief stroll through your section, you're surprised to find several packages awaiting you. Despite your reservations, Feyd has still chosen to send gifts. Walking over to inspect them, a servant appears at your side, bowing slightly.

"Na-Baroness, the na-Baron has sent some gifts for you. He hopes you will accept them," the servant explains. Your gaze drifts over the variously sized boxes, and a sigh escapes your lips. "We will send them back. All of them," you declare after a moment. "But let me have a look first." Kneeling down, you carefully open each package, mindful not to damage anything.

Among them are dresses, exquisitely crafted and likely from your home planet. Another holds a perfume you adore, also from your planet. Then there are the traditional Harkonnen jewelry, reserved only for the Baron and his family. You can't help but chuckle at Feyd's selection.

Once you've examined everything, the servants gather the gifts along with your message: Don't ever insult me like this again

Even if this was just the beginning of his attempts to seek forgiveness, Feyd's gesture of sending mere gifts felt somewhat childish.

Days later, you decide to attend the fight held in the Harkonnen arena, knowing full well that Feyd would be present. However, you choose to sit in a secluded area, far removed from his presence.

Your attire consists of a dark red silk dress, a change from your usual colors as the na-Baroness, which typically align with the Harkonnen house's black with silver or red accents. Your jewelry, crafted from rare opal from your home planet, catches the light, accentuating your eyes and lending a radiant glow to your appearance.

Accompanied by two of your favorite servants, you make your way to a seating area. As you settle in, a pair of glasses are provided, allowing you a clearer view of the participants in the fighting circle below.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, observing the excitement of the people of Giedi Prime for the fight. Your gaze shifts upward, focusing on the Baron seated high above the arena, his imposing presence making you feel unease. He emanates a terrifying and volatile energy that unsettles you every time.

Continuing on, you reach the spot where the na-Baron and you usually sit. Feyd stands alone in his black suit, his gaze fixed on you. He had waited until you noticed him.

Feeling a twinge in your stomach, you deliberately drop your glasses with controlled movements, concealing the effect his presence has on you. Redirecting your attention to the fighters entering the arena, you're grateful for something to distract you.

Yet, his image replays in your mind. His eyes betray a hint of sadness, dark circles evident beneath his pale complexion. But he had brought this upon himself.

If he hadn't allowed the Bene Gesserit to touch him, you would have been there beside him as always, watching the fight unfold, with his hand possessively resting on your thigh.

Even after a week apart, the pain remains just the same.

The fight was not big spectacle, but it was enough for the crowd. You swiftly retreat to your chambers, after receiving the sign from a servant that the Baron had left. Casting one last glance at Feyd's area, you see his back turned to you. He's likely leaving as well, and you really have no desire to encounter him in the hallways

When you wake up two days later, you notice a basket of fresh fruits sitting on your table. Approaching the gift, you find a small card attached to the handle. Opening it slowly, you read Feyd's handwriting: Please accept these valuable fruits. Feyd.

You stare at the words for a moment, then shift your gaze to the basket. Inside, you see a variety of fruits, many of which are from your own planet and are your favorites —a fact Feyd surely knew. Yet, despite the apparent gesture, you still feel slighted by the simplicity of the gift.

With a dismissive gesture, you instruct the servants to take the basket away. "Share it among the others and send the same message to the na-Baron as before," you command, retreating to your bedroom.

An upcoming event required your presence as husband and wife, na-Baron and na-Baroness. Three days beforehand, you already felt nauseous and contemplated skipping it altogether. However, the Baron's potential anger left you with no choice but to attend.

As the special day approaches, you pace nervously around the room. The prospect of having to play the role of Feyd's wife again fills you with dread. Despite the difficulty, you resign yourself to the task, knowing you must suppress your true emotions and maintain a facade of affection, hiding behind a gentle smile.

In the morning, you receive a package from Feyd, containing a dress intended for the upcoming gathering. The garment, adorned in Harkonnen colors, is tailored to complement his own attire, ensuring a flawless appearance as a couple.

As the servants begin to prepare you for the event, they dress you, adorn you with jewelry, and style your hair elegantly. Avoiding the mirror as much as possible, you can't help but feel a bit of discomfort at the sight of the dress, which reminds you too much of him. The idea that it signifies your connection to him is unsettling, especially since his betrayal with another woman. Prior to that, you had cherished moments when he selected dresses for you or had jewelry crafted from your birthstone.

Once you're ready, you steal a quick glance at your reflection, observing how the dress accentuates your figure. Despite looking beautiful, the nausea persists. You so badly wish to just remain secluded in your chambers, away from him.

Two servants accompany you as you make your way to the grand halls where your husband awaits in front of the towering doors. You catch a glimpse of him, dressed in all black and feel the familiar pain in your chest. It's as if your lungs are pulling themselves together, stealing the air from you.

His gaze is sweeping over you and a faint grin tugs at his lips, but he stops himself quickly. "Good morning, wife," Feyd says, with his deep raspy voice and offers his arm to you. He seems content to see your face up close after two weeks. You halt before him, meeting his towering figure with a glare that could pierce steel. He recognizes the expression, but doesn't show any reaction. You hook your arm into his, taking a deep breath before walking into the grand hall together.

As the event unfolds, nobels from across the galaxy mingle, their voices a symphony of polite conversation. Among them stands the imposing figure of the Baron, his presence commanding attention.

You stand next to Feyd, occasionally engaging in some small talk with others. Despite the pain and betrayal that lingers in between you, you play the roles with practiced ease, upholding the appearance of a happy couple. Yet inside, you feel dull.

In a moment alone, Feyd wraps his arm around your waist. "Let's talk later, wife." He says and gazes into your eyes. You lower your head, staring at his chest and offering no response until he pulls you closer to his body. Slowly, you raise your head and to meet his gaze.

"No, I don't think so," You reply, placing a hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away. But he holds firm, studying your eyes in an attempt to understand your emotions.

"There's nothing to explain, na-Baron," you hiss, putting some distance between the two of you. "I don't want to hear anything. And stop sending me gifts!"

Feyd blinks at your response and takes a step forward. "Just let me finish my sentence. Things have happened that I regret deeply, but I need you to understand why," he begins to explain, but you shake your head. Tears well up in your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress a whimper. "No, no…" Your lips quiver as you respond with a weak voice. "Even just thinking about it hurts me too much." With those final words, you turn on your heel and walk away. Glancing briefly at the Baron to ensure he's occupied, you slip out of the grand hall and return to your chambers.

Your heart races, nearly pounding out of your chest. Feyd's scent made you dizzy, made you longing for him, but you refuse to succumb. You were not one to give in quickly, not even to his beautiful blue eyes. His lips had twitched, after you had raised your head to look at him - his love always displayed so openly for you, unlike his usual expressionless demeanor. And despite everything, you still love him too, but the thought of going back to him, fills you with disgust and pain. He's the one who made you feel this way.

It was not a good night, and the days that followed were just as bleak. The dull ache persisted, and you drift through each day like a ghost. Emptiness pervades every moment, blurring the world around you into a haze. And despite showing not a single emotion to the world, you feel the pain, longing for the warmth of connection that is lost.

After a week had passed since the event, the reply from your older sister finally arrived. You hastily open it, eager to learn whether the Bene Gesserit woman was pregnant. You understood the ways of the Bene Gesserit and didn't object to them, except in this case, where one woman dared to interfere in your marriage. It was all about control.

Since you weren't part of the sisterhood, they needed to ensure a child was born from Feyd that they could raise according to their teachings. However, if they had approached you with a deal for your own child to become a Bene Gesserit, you might not have disagreed.

But this time, you were determined to stand in their way. She wasn't worthy enough to bear your husband's child, especially considering you weren't even pregnant yourself yet.

With trembling hands, you open the scroll and begin to read the message.

Dear sister,

I am deeply troubled by the news you've shared with me. I did not expect this from the na-Baron. But don't worry too much, as I have located the Bene Gesserit. Her name is Margot Fenring, the wife of Count Fenring, the Emperor's advisor. Unfortunately, I couldn't find out why the sisterhood chose her, and I haven't received any updates on a possible pregnancy. Rest assured, I will inform you immediately once I learn more.

With all my love,

Your sister

You stare at the message, sighing heavily. Margot Fenring was a well-known figure in the galaxy, particularly admired for her beauty. Her hair was of a golden blonde with grey-green eyes and attractive figure. However, you weren't concerned about feeling inferior to her; you knew your own beauty had captivated Feyd from the moment he had laid his eyes on you.

The burning question on your mind wasn't why the revered mother had chosen her to seduce Feyd, but rather why she had to intervene at all, and whether she was now carrying his child.

The waiting was unbearable in a situation like this.

A knock sounds on your door, as you put the roll in the drawer of your desk. Curious, you turn around, wondering who could be seeking your attention. Apart from your husband and his two family members, you didn't know anyone else.

With caution, you open the door, only to be met with the sight of Feyd-Rautha. Disappointment flashes across your face, and you sigh, almost closing the door on him again. But Feyd has other plans, his hand holding the door open and making his way into your chambers. Surprised, you walk back a few steps and stare at him. "What are you doing?" you ask, confusion evident in your tone. He doesn't respond, maintaining a cold stare that sends a shiver down your spine. He appears angry or, at the very least, annoyed by your behavior.

As the back of your knees touch your bed, he stops in front of you. "This time, you will listen, wife, or I will tie you to the bed. You can't run away from me every time," Feyd says with a deep, raspy voice. You blink up at him, uncertain of what to do. Part of you wants to escape the uncomfortable situation and to avoid listening to him. But in this moment, he holds full control over you.

A cold finger grazes your jawline softly, lifting your head up. He comes closer, his breath tingling on your skin. "You better listen carefully now. I will explain everything that has happened. Alright?" he tells you, and all you can do is nod your head obediently.

"On this day while I was on my way back to you, I noticed a woman following me. I questioned her about her presence in the area, and she began to manipulate my mind. With a mere blink, I found myself in the witch's room, unable to recall anything except for her whispers in my head," Feyd explains seriously, maintaining eye contact with you.

"She then used the voice on me and forced me to place my hand in a box while holding a sharp object coated with poison to my neck. After passing her test, she continued to use the voice on me throughout the whole time. I couldn't do anything else than listen to her. I tried to break free many times and every time a picture of you flashed in my mind, she redirected my attention back to her," he continues, his eyes darkening as he recounts the experience. You can see the distress he's in as he speaks.

Slowly, your hand raises to cup his cheek, offering comfort. He leans into your touch, visibly relaxing. "Do you know why she came to you?" you inquire, once his nerves are calmed. He nods vaguely. "I am the one who will inherit the title as Baron next, and since you are not a Bene Gesserit, they sent one of them to find out my weakness."

His answer sinks in, and you agree. "That's what I was thinking as well."

Feyd's hands gently cup your face as he leans closer. "I missed you so much, little mouse," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the sensation of his touch, which you've missed dearly.

"What if she is pregnant?" concern creeps into your voice. Feyd meets your gaze, his eyes filled with determination. "Don't worry, my dear. She won't live to give birth to it, if we receive word that she's carrying a baby," he assures you. "You are the only woman who will give me an heir," he adds with a smirk.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "I should have listened earlier. I just couldn't bear it. Nothing made sense anymore," you whisper, your lips brushing against his cheek. He hums in reply, pressing his lips to yours in a long-awaited kiss.

It turns into a heavy makeout session. With tender care, he guides you onto the bed, slowly undressing you as if savoring every moment of intimacy. As he moistens his fingers with his tongue and begins to pump them inside of you, a soft moan escapes your lips, reveling in the sensation of his touch.

Your body arches with pleasure as he prepares you for him, each movement sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. "Feels so good," you murmur, lost in the sensation. Feyd's grin widens as he leans over you, his touch both tender and tantalizing.

When he decides you're ready, he withdraws his fingers, eliciting a soft whine of longing from you. "It's alright, my little mouse. I will give you what you want," he shushes. As he frees himself from his pants, your hand instinctively reaches for him, eager to feel his hardness in your grasp.

A low groan escapes him at your touch, but he gently removes your hand, his own need evident in his impatient tone. "Not now," He says, his voice thick with lust. "I can't wait any longer to be inside you." With a sense of urgency, he positions himself between your legs, ready to claim you completely.

He gazes down at you with love and care. "You won’t be able to walk tomorrow," he warns with a sly grin, teasing as he lets the tip of his arousal slide between your heated folds before thrusting inside you.

Once fully sheathed within your tight walls, he leans over you, his arms caging your head to support his weight. In this position, he is able to see your face much better. "I will make you forget everything that pained you these past weeks. You are mine," he growls possessively with his lips attached to the sensitive skin of your neck as his hips begin to move in a rhythmic thrust.

At first, his movements are slow and deliberate, punctuated by tender kisses, until you relax completely under his touch and he increases the pace. Your legs are lifted up over his shoulders, allowing him to penetrate even deeper, luring whimpers of pleasure from you as your nails dig into the porcelain skin of his back.

"So tight. Taking me so well, little mouse," he praises softly near your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Your walls contract around him, gripping him tighter, causing him to groan in pleasure. "Stop it, I'm not going to last if you keep tightening up like this," he warns you, his head falling back in pleasure.

But the sensation feels too good to stop, and you beg him to just come inside you with your voice hazy with desire. Feyd's eyes sparkle at your pleads. "Touch yourself," He orders, encouraging you.

It doens't take long for you to reach your climax, gripping his shoulders for support and screaming his name. He watches your face intently, praising you. "Yes that's it, good girl. Come on my cock."

Without letting you fully come down from your high, he starts to thrust deeper. “Going to fill you up now, you want that?” You whine at his words, nodding impatiently. “You'll look beautiful with my baby inside of you, all big and swollen.” His words drive you insane and with each thrust, he pushes you both closer.

With a final thrust, he releases himself inside you, bringing you to another climax as the room fills with both of your cries of pleasure.

"Afterwards, he takes good care of you, cleaning your sensitive skin with a wet cloth and ensuring you're comfortable in bed. His arms find their way around your body, pulling you closer.

"I haven't slept well since you left," he admits, nuzzling his face into your neck. You chuckle at the sensation because it tickles.

"I also slept horribly," you respond, your hand caressing the back of his neck. But tonight, you sleep better than you have in weeks, knowing your husband is right there beside you, and you never want to let go again.

Fortunately, it's only a week later when another message from your sister reaches you. As you read through it with full concentration, a lump forms in your throat due to the wave of emotions that washes over you.

"She's not pregnant," you inform Feyd, who stands before you. His eyes visibly brighten with relief and he moves closer to embrace you tightly. No words are needed, you can feel each other's emotions clearly.

"Don't worry, my dear. I'll deal with the punishment for the Bene Gesserit," Feyd assures you after a while of holding each other. His anger still simmers, just as intense as the night Margot Fenring used the voice on him. He won't let it slide easily.

You find comfort in knowing that Feyd will handle the situation, likely with the help of his uncle, the Baron. But for now, you push aside all thoughts of pain, focusing on the relief of the moment.

On the same day, after rearranging the last few items in your shared chamber, which you hastily moved back into, a gleaming blade catches your eye. Your husband possesses a collection of blades in various sizes and styles, but you recognize this one as his favorite - the one he always carries with him. You approach the desk and study the blade intently.

Suddenly, strong arms wrap around your body, and you gasp quietly in surprise. "This one is for you," Feyd whispers behind you. Your eyes remain fixed on the knife, his words sinking in.

This blade holds significant importance to him, having accompanied your husband since his childhood when he first learned to fight. It's a profound gesture of trust and affection that he would gift it to you now. Despite the Harkonnen's reputation for brutality and coldness, they occasionally reveal their emotions to those they love. This blade serves as a metaphor, symbolizing Feyd's gift of his heart to you forever.

[angelsforthenight]

BEYOND SALVAGE — ellie williams x fem!reader (pt. 2)

a catholic boarding school AU… read pt. 1 here! ೀ⋆｡˚

after the humiliating sports day accident, ellie seems to take direct notice of you. your uncontrollable desires and bodily reactions cause you to feel horrible, until one night in the chapel.

cw: mdni!!!, long (but worth it 😛) heavy religious (catholic) talk, hinted religious trauma, ellie has piercings, inexperienced!reader, dom!ellie, sub!reader, player!ellie, v brief masturbation, brief drugs, fucking in an inconvenient place, intense foreplay, teasing, cursing, finger-sucking, nipple-sucking, cunnilingus, fingering, sorta mean!ellie, kiiiinda brat!reader

taglist: @shewantstoknow @iluvgrlsblog @kitaanah @yumimak @babesmwah @lawofblla @elliesfavgf @4ftergloww @circe-is-struggling @seraphicsentences @we-loveebony @marrycv @lavenderhazelsworld

“…God forgives all, does He not?”

days go by and within each one, ellie plays a more prominent role in your routine. everywhere you go she’s just there. you also catch her looking at you: whether it’s in class or in church service. this begins to be a massive bother since she’s making things incredibly difficult.

your body is also starting to experience changes. every single time without fail, whenever your gaze would meet hers, you would feel your heart start to pick up the pace, and a strange yet eerily familiar throbbing sensation between your legs occur. whenever your cunt would flex, you would try to squeeze your thighs together, hoping to ease it, but it’d only make things worse.

as much as you’d hate to admit, you subconsciously know exactly what’s wrong with you. these nights, whilst trying to fall asleep, you’ve been letting your mind wander. thinking all these sinful thoughts surrounding ellie that you in the past would’ve never even dared to. you don’t even know where this is all coming from — all because of the sports day incident, really?

you feel disgusting, but you can’t seem to stop. it’s as if a little creature inside you has been roused awake and is starving.

it’s currently 12 in the morning. every girl in your dorm is overcome with drowse — gently snoozing away and filling the room with the sound of soft breathes. every girl but you, who’s wide awake. you, who can feel the creature within you snarl and whine with hunger, you who can’t stop imagining what it’d feel like if ellie were to fuck you and you who’s fingers are starting to creep down your white cotton night-gown. your head begins to be overclouded by yearn and arousal as your fingers prudently brush up against your clothed cunt. your breath hitches and you slightly squirm; ellie’s face and her demeanour embellished in your mind. you’re about to continue trailing down this path of wickedness until you hear somebody stir in their sleep, making you jolt and immediately pull your hand away; snapping you out of the indecent daze.

your eyes glance up at the huge crucifix held above the door. you can feel Jesus’ hard, judgemental gaze cast upon you and you feel morbid. this influences you to get up and skulk to the school’s chapel. you need to thoroughly apologise for your godless actions after all.

as you kneel, you feel your knees sink against the cold cushion of one of the pillars. you take a deep breath, doing the sign of the cross and clenching your eyes shut.

“forgive me, father, for i have sinned…”

but then your mind goes blank. you have no idea what to say, too afraid to mutter what you’ve been doing aloud. your mouth slightly opens, expecting words to spill out, but there’s nothing.

as you’re still figuring something to say, you suddenly smell a strong poignant scent of earth and musk. your eyes immediately shoot open. it’s way too smelly to be incense. you scan the area only to see that there’s nobody there, but the smell is just way too distracting for you to continue your prayer. you feel compelled to figure out where the scent is coming from — leading you to an abandoned curtain in the far corner of the room. you immediately draw the curtain open.

ellie stares up at you like a deer caught in headlights, a lit blunt hanging out of her lips. she’s sat on a plastic stool, wearing a fitted black tank top and flannel pyjama bottoms. your jaw slightly drops at the sight of her. her eyebrows raise as she stares you down, seemingly relieved it wasn’t one of the sisters that had caught her.

“nice nightgown.” you frown. you couldn’t believe what she was doing. in the holiest place in the building, to add!

“you want?” she continues, holding it up to you. you gasp softly and vigorously shake your head.

“what are you doing?” you ask dumbly. ellie chuckles amusedly.

“if you’re gonna tell on me, just tell.” cockiness oozes from her tone. it pisses you off.

“why are you smoking?” you hiss, “i mean, do you have at least an ounce of respect?”

ellie stares at you with half-lidded eyes, carelessly taking another drag. she exhales a little plume of smoke.

“sorry princess…” she drawls, her gaze trained on you as the corner of her lips arch up into a small smirk. lo and behold, the same old throbbing makes itself known again — only this time with such intensity that it surprises you. you’re speechless.

the cocky little smirk never leaves ellie’s face. she gets up, flicking the joint away. besides, it’s clear she’s now interested in something someone else. she walks over to you whilst you feel your brain slowly turn into mush.

“joint’s gone… you happy?” she mutters, her tone low and sultry. the air suddenly feels too thick. ellie slightly cocks her head to the side when you don’t respond. you can sense the starving creature inside you salivate for the taste of ellie’s lips. you helplessly wonder if they taste sweet, or maybe bitter from the weed.

you sigh, your eyes briefly fluttering closed.

“it’s all your fault…” you find yourself muttering.

ellie’s eyebrows raise. “oh?”

“do you know what you’ve been doing to me?” you continue, your rage beginning to re-surface. you’ve spent years trying to resist the constraints of sin yet ellie’s brought that all down in a week.

“enlighten me.”

“you’re—“ you purse your lips, feeling butterflies furiously swarm in your stomach. “you’re driving me insane.”

ellie’s smile slightly falters, shifting into a more serious look. she steps even closer to you, now only mere inches away.

“well, the feeling’s mutual.”

“that’s not supposed to be a good thing.” you retort, despite the inner storm brewing inside of you. you’re great at playing it cool, though you subtly sink your nails into your palm to check if you’re not dreaming.

“mmh… you wanna know what was a good thing though? when you sat your pretty ass on my lap the other day.” she gauges your reaction, biting her lip in amused anticipation.

your jaw drops before you look around as if anyone else is in here but you two. “don’t say stuff like that!”

ellie giggles, the sound of it echoing through the chapel. it sounds like vanilla. she enjoys how flustered you look. her eyes drift down to the way you’re not-so-subtly squeezing your thighs together: one leg in front of the other.

“you good?” her gaze hinting to your legs. you glance down, not even realising you were doing that.

“i‘m fine.” you spit, lying through your teeth. you ask yourself if you should leave, staring at the floor so not even realising how close ellie has just stepped right now.

she stares at you before her thumb and index cup your chin, making you look back up at her. your eyes slightly widen, clearly not expecting that. ellie’s eyes drift to your lips.

“it’s okay, you know? God forgives all, does He not?” she whispers, her thumb tracing along your bottom lip. you don’t pull away. the devil was chipping away at your chastity and you were letting it. you were letting it.

“not much of a talker…” she mutters, her thumb slightly dragging your lip down. you feel something unleash inside of you.

and then you do the unthinkable.

way too stimulated and awoken, you abruptly lean in and press your lips against ellie’s. turns out they do taste sweet after all. ellie’s eyes widen in surprise before happily kissing you back; latching her hands against your back and pulling you closer. your creature hums in satisfaction as what was once a light kiss quickly shifts into a sloppy make-out sesh. tongues gliding together, the sound of smooches filling the room. you can feel her spider-bites plink against the right side of your face. its coldness feels both refreshing and ticklish. you have no idea what’s come over you, but you’re enjoying this. a muffled whimper escapes your lips as you cup ellie’s cheek, feeling dizzy. ellie pulls away; a line of drool briefly connecting your lips. she grabs your hand and sniffs it. you stare at her in bewilderment — is this what people normally do before fornicating?

“you been playing with yourself or something?” ellie snorts. and here you were thinking that there’s no possible way you could embarrass yourself more…

“keep talking and i’ll change my mind about this.” you return, so obviously avoiding the question. ellie giggles, before leaving a small wet kiss on the back of your unclean hand. your blush deepens. grinning, she decides to take things a step further by putting your middle finger in her mouth, sucking it as she makes sure to maintain eye contact. your lips part, staring at her in disbelief. she‘s clearly teasing: her flattened tongue curling against the tip of your finger. you’re so turned on that it’s hard to think.

“you were playing with yourself. it tastes good.” she murmurs in a smug manner before pulling you into another kiss — this one, a lot more intense. everything seems to be going so fast, but you don’t care. you thread your fingers through ellie’s hair, chest pressed against chest.

whilst you two practically eat each other’s faces off, ellie’s hands slowly snake down your back; grabbing your ass. you gasp but before you’ve got the time to properly react, ellie’s already gently pushing you down onto the discarded altar behind you two.

the small cross on your necklace is merely an accessory by now; you’re far too gone, way beyond salvage.

“close the curtains.” you mutter breathlessly, your eyes glazed over, pupils dilated. you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“yes ma’am.” she then comes back, shifting attention to your neck. you let out a shuddered sigh as she peppers your neck with sloppy little kisses. when she finds your sweet spot, your breath hitches. she smirks against your flesh before abusing that spot some more; nibbling and sucking on it. you bite your lip as to suppress a loud whimper.

at the same time, her hand finds your breast; lightly cupping it between her palm. her thumb brushes against your dressed nipple and you shiver. next thing you know, she has her mouth on it — which, at this point, is as hard as a pebble. your body jolts when you feel her tongue slowly circling around the bud; the fabric covering it turning transparent. she does the same with the other nipple. you feel your warmth mingle in with hers; her scent invading your nostrils. she smells like a forest, and you’re willing to burn in it. with a “pop” she pulls away, staring at you.

“you sure you want it?” she asks, her gaze never leaving yours. she needed to make sure. losing your virginity in a chapel is a pretty huge thing after all…

yet you don’t just want it, you need it. hence why you nod in an almost frantic manner. ellie beams, planting a tender kiss on the top of your knee before slowly spreading your legs apart. you’re glad you’re in a secluded space in the chapel. you weren’t up for seeing emblems and statues of Jesus leering at you. nor Mary, nor Moses, nor Gabriel.

ellie raises your dress up so it’s laying on your stomach. her thumb traces circles on your outer thighs whilst her lips are set on the inner part; implementing kind kisses. you can already feel tingles coarse through your body, and you appreciate how ellie’s taking her sweet time, but you do also want her to get on with it already.

“hurry.” you whine. ellie chuckles.

“am i not allowed to make this the best experience for you?” she quips. her lips are starting to enter dangerous territory; pecking the edge of your panties. your body involuntarily jerks, evoking yet another amused reaction from ellie.

“so sassy for someone who’s so sensitive.” she taunts. you pout and clamp your legs shut in response — too embarrassed at the way ellie’s staring at your crotch and poking fun. ellie giggles.

“oh no, no, no.” she says, forcing them back open again. “act like a brat and maybe i’ll be the one changing my mind about this.”

she then places a heavy kiss right in the middle of your crotch. despite your underwear still being on, you felt that strongly. an uncontrollable moan escapes your lips; a noise accidentally too loud.

“shhhh… you know what? open your mouth.” you do as she says, and she leans up and stuffs the raised up section of your gown in your mouth; like a gag. you stare at her with big eyes.

to tease even more, ellie leans down and slowly trails her flattened tongue up your dressed pussy. you let out a muffled moan, your back slightly arching.

“yeah… that’ll shut you up.” she says smugly before her finger twirls itself around the side of your panties, pulling it down. you feel the fresh breeze hit your cunt and your eyes momentarily clench shut. this is it. finally.

ellie never stops with the kissing. it’s pretty damn obvious you’ve never done this before so she wants to be initially polite; saving the roughness for later. she kisses your clit, the tip of her tongue swirling around the nub. you groan in pleasure, your teeth sinking hard against your dress. despite her obnoxious behaviour, ellie’s pleasing you like you’re a goddamn queen: head slowly bobbing up and down, lips tugging at your folds.

she’s savouring you as if you’re a precious meal. your hand quickly finds itself in ellie’s hair; gripping it tightly the more ellie goes down on you.

“fuck.” ellie groans. your hand on her hair increases her arousal and it drives her to slightly pick up the pace. you don’t notice, but she’s lightly grinding against the table; letting out a few muffled moans of her own.

she increases the pressure on her tongue — to which you respond to delightfully: arching your back and your moans beginning to crescendo. you twitch and quiver as ellie devours you; going to town on your sensitive cunt. you start to feel overwhelmingly good, causing you to unintentionally squirm away from ellie’s mouth.

“don’t run away…” she coos. as she pulls your thighs back to her, she plunges her middle finger in your cunt. caught off guard, you let out a suppressed cry. ellie smirks as she resumes the movements with her mouth. you feel so good that your hips buckle up: desperate for more. her finger curls up against your g-spot and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

eventually, ellie adds her ring finger too. the erotic noises of ellie finger-fucking you fills the room. ellie grips your thigh with her free hand so that you don’t escape again; pleasuring you relentlessly.

your head is completely blank and you’re pulsating with pleasure. you can’t stop shuddering. ellie can tell by the way your walls are eagerly squeezing around her fingers that you’re getting close, so she leans up and takes the dress out of your mouth; a thick tendril of saliva clinging from your mouth. the sight of it turns her on in unimaginable ways.

“feels good, huh?” she mutters, her fingers banging up against your g-spot repeatedly. you bite your lip, trying not to be too loud but it’s hard. you’re a hot mess; eyes half-lidded, needy whines escaping your lips, jaw slack.

“can’t even speak…? come on, i wanna hear you.” ellie taunts, fucking you harder. you squeal; feeling a knot starting to untie in your stomach.

“feels so good… i love it. sweet jesus…” you babble, almost incoherently.

“jesus? jesus isn’t making you feel this good, i am. say my name.” she demands.

“e-ellie… something’s happening…” you mewl. ellie smirks before planting wet, sloppy kisses on your chest. “good girl… such a pretty fucking girl…” she mumbles, leaning down and sucking on your pussy yet again. she can’t seem to get enough of how you taste. your hand grips the back of her head and you push it closer, her nose rubbing against your vulva.

you swear you’re starting to see stars, your muscles beginning to unclench. you scream ellie’s name; forgetting how loud you’re being.

“let it out. make a mess all over my mouth, my fingers.” ellie sounds like she’s almost pleading, her voice hot and husky, fanning your aching cunt.

and that was your cue. you feel your wind get knocked out as you attempt to cry out, feeling as if you’ve lost your breath. your eyes once again roll to the back of your head as you endure an insanely pleasurable orgasm; trembling as if your life depends on it. ellie keeps going just for a little moment in order to extend your high. tears stream down your face. ellie takes her fingers out, and even that feels good.

“haa… you okay?” she whispers, wiping the tears from your face with her thumb. you don’t even feel real. too weak to speak, you simply nod.

ellie smiles: a warm, tender smile compared to her usual conceited attitude. like a gentleman, she pulls your panties back up and your dress back down. she glances at you — enjoying the spent, hazy look on your face. she’d like to see that more often.

“that’s weird… i thought the guilt would kick in by now.” you mutter, feeling exhausted instead. ellie giggles.

“shit, maybe tomorrow.”

“maybe.”

a/n: omfg i swr i got possessed whilst writing this JFC!!!!! also such a coincidence i’m posting this on sunday… the day of the lord… hhahahaha….

— free gaza from the river to the sea 🇵🇸 please remember to keep talking about it and spreading awareness!!

[joelscurls]

stalemate

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

words: 7.2k

summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.

warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!

a/n:  thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)

Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out. 

Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do. 

Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.

He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.

Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.

You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter. 

“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”

After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.

Especially Frankie.

Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that— 

“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.

It was you who kissed him first.

He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.

And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”

It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.

The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.

You wish you could forget it.

The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.

Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right. 

You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.

Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship? 

Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating. 

Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend. 

It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds. 

Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.

It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.

Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool. 

Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.

Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.

“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”

You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”

Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.

When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.

You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash. 

When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.

Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down. 

You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?

You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.

He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.

Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking. 

It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.

He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie.  His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him. 

Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need. 

You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.

“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically. 

“Ah — that’s alright.” 

He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—

“You here all by yourself?”

“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”

“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”

“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”

You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.

“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”

You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.

Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.

“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”

Too fucking easy.

“Sure,” you giggle.

He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him? 

But then you think of Frankie inside  — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.

Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.

He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly. 

He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too. 

Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.

You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.

You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.

Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”

Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.

The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—

“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”

“Excuse me?” you scoff. 

Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?” 

He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes. 

“What are you, my keeper?”

“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”

You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?

“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”

He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.

Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks. 

You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”

Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone. 

Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.

Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.

The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.

Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink. 

He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline. 

“You always up this early?”

You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.

He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”

“I could stick around and help,” he offers. 

Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.

“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again. 

If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.

It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.

The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.

A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke. 

Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver. 

And then-

I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.

How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.

He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.

So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion. 

You enter the house with baited breath.

Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all. 

“Hi,” you try.

He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.

“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs. 

“Fine. I’m fine.” 

“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”

“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”

You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.

You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.

Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming. 

“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”

With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.

You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans. 

“Hey,” you announce. 

She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm. 

You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other. 

“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement. 

“Yeah. I said I would be.”

“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…” 

“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”

She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”

It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.

Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.

The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.

It starts during the second round of Charades. 

The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.

It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.

And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.

Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of. 

He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.

You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod. 

“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”

“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”

You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively. 

“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”

“Please,” Frankie sneers. 

“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”

“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”

Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”

You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.

“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”

Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.

“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct. 

You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it. 

“Seriously, why?”

He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.  

“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally. 

You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”

His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.

“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”

“He’s the one-“

“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.

Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble. 

Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed. 

“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”

Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.

You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh. 

“Fine,” you both say at once.

“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway. 

Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?

The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?

Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. 

He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”

“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”

He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.

“I wasn’t trying to be-”

You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”

The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.

“No.”

You quirk a brow at him, confused.

“No?”

“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”

You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past. 

He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.

“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”

Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”

He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”

“And did it?”

“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.” 

His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.

“Why not?” you squeak.

He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis. 

Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat. 

For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies. 

And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.

“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you. 

“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”

His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton. 

Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”

You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand. 

There you go baby, that’s it; I got you. 

You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.

You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“

The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest. 

You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Please fuck me.”

He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.

You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want. 

In the end, he can’t help himself.

“Can you be quiet, querida?” 

You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.

He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls. 

You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.

He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.

Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant. 

“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.

“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.

“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“

He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.

“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”

“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium. 

Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below. 

He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.

It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again. 

He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”

“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”

You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.

 “So fucking beautiful, you know that?”

Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.

“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”

“Jesus, Frankie.”

He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.

He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”

“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”

“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.” 

It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.

As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away. 

“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”

He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky. 

“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”

You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin. 

“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.

“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact. 

“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.

“What do you mean?”

He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.

“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.” 

Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.

The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.

An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right. 

He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”

“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.

“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist. 

You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”

“That can be arranged.” 

end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)

[sweetiecutie]

König who turns into the biggest baby when he’s sick.

He does have pretty bad fever - 38,4. Not as bad as it could be, but not the most optimistic picture as well. And keeping in mind König’s strong immunity and excellent health overall, this illness of his concerns you deeply, causing you to fret over your boyfriend even more than you normally would.

And of course this cheeky bastard takes full advantage of it.

König wraps himself deeper into plush covers of your shared bed, coughing a bit too often than his sore throat urges him to, sniffing his nose too loud for his actual rhinitis - and it all works. You just coo over his seemingly broken statue, placing your pleasantly cold hand onto the side of his burning up face, eyebrows scrunched up prettily in concern.

He munches on everything you give him with even greater appetite than usual - numerous fruit plates, delicious looking stews and soups, wide variety of herbal teas you brew him every hour. König may or may not whine and complain pitifully, oh so frail and too weak for doing even the most basic of thing, just so you have no other choice but spoon feed him🥺

König refuses to take his medicine unless you basically hand-feed them to him, popping a few pills into his mouth and keeping a mug with warm tea to his lips to drown the medicine down with, being extra careful to not spill it down his chin. But he’s all to pliant and willing to comply with doctor’s orders when it comes to you rubbing strong-smelling ligaments into his chest - soft fingers working sticky substance into König’s reddened skin, tucking him tightly into warm blankets afterwards and placing a kiss or two to his unnaturally warm forehead.

König does feel horrible tho - his joints and muscles ache constantly, making sitting, walking or laying down extremely uncomfortable; his nose is sore from wiping it with tissues so often, annoyingly swollen despite all the nose drops you give him, making breathing a difficult task; his throat burns with every viscous coughing fit, scratching it even further with hot air being pushed out of his lungs. But the sight of little pretty you - all worried about his wellbeing, making everything in your power to quicken his recovery - it is like a balm to König’s soul, causing him rub the bulb of thermometer one or two times to make it show slightly higher mark. Watching with thoroughly hidden delight as you shake you head, carefully putting device onto the bedside table; placing a smooch or two on the top of your lover’s head you headed out to the kitchen to treat poor thing König to some hot chocolate while he stretched in bed pleasantly, waiting for his perfect girlfriend to come back and dote on poor sick himself a little bit more <3

[writeriguess]

Katsuki x fem reader fic where he hates you and you dont know why but then you get badly injured and almost die and suddenly hes worked up about that and when you wake up he finally tells you hes actually in love with you. Please????

The hallways of U.A. High School were a familiar battleground for you, but not for the reasons one might expect. It wasn't the intense training sessions or the rigorous academics that tested your resolve; it was the relentless animosity from none other than Katsuki Bakugo.

Every time you crossed paths with him, you could feel the weight of his glare. It was as if your very presence irritated him to his core. He was harsh, abrasive, and, at times, downright cruel, and you had no idea why.

“Out of my way, (Y/N),” he would snap, shoving past you with an unyielding scowl. It was always like this. You wondered what you had done to earn such hatred from him, but despite everything, you never asked. You figured he was just being Bakugo, and maybe you weren’t worth his time.

But the truth was, it hurt. You admired him—his strength, his determination, his relentless drive to be the best. You could never understand why he treated you so coldly.

Then came that fateful day. The day everything changed.

The training exercise had gone horribly wrong. What was supposed to be a simple mission turned into a nightmare when the villains ambushed your team. In the chaos, you were separated from the others, cornered by one particularly ruthless foe. Despite your best efforts, the fight was too much. The villain's Quirk was deadly, and before you knew it, you were on the ground, bleeding out and slipping into unconsciousness.

In the darkness, you heard a familiar voice shouting your name. It was Bakugo, but there was something in his tone that you had never heard before. Fear.

"(Y/N), stay with me!" His voice was frantic, panicked even. The last thing you saw before everything went black was his face, twisted with an emotion you couldn't quite place.

When you woke up, the sterile smell of the hospital filled your senses. You blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, disoriented. As your vision cleared, you saw a figure slumped in the chair beside your bed. It was Bakugo, asleep, his head resting on his folded arms. His normally spiky hair was disheveled, and dark circles lined his eyes.

You tried to move, but the pain in your body made you wince. The small noise was enough to wake him. His eyes snapped open, and when he saw you awake, relief flooded his expression, followed quickly by a scowl.

"You're finally awake, idiot," he muttered, his voice rough.

You blinked at him, confused. "Bakugo? What are you…?"

"You almost died, dumbass," he cut you off, his voice trembling slightly. "You were reckless, and you almost—" He stopped, gritting his teeth as if the words were physically painful to say.

You had never seen him like this. Vulnerable. It was jarring.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, not knowing what else to say.

Bakugo stared at you for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice low and serious. "Do you have any idea what that did to me? Seeing you like that?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the raw emotion in his tone. "Why do you care?" you asked quietly. "You've always acted like you hated me."

He looked away, fists clenching at his sides. "Because I'm an idiot," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought if I pushed you away, it would make it easier… but it didn't."

"Easier?" you echoed, not understanding.

Bakugo met your gaze, his eyes burning with intensity. "I don't hate you, (Y/N). I… I love you, damn it."

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. Your breath caught in your throat, your mind reeling.

"You… what?" you managed to choke out.

"I love you," he repeated, the words rough but sincere. "And seeing you almost die… it scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t… I can’t lose you."

For a moment, you could only stare at him, stunned by the revelation. Then, despite the pain in your body, you reached out, taking his hand in yours. His grip was strong, almost desperate, as if he was afraid you would slip away if he let go.

"I'm not going anywhere," you promised softly.

Bakugo swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours. "You better not, or I'll kill you myself," he muttered, though there was no heat behind his words.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and for the first time, you saw Bakugo's expression soften. He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"You're mine, (Y/N)," he whispered, his voice fierce and possessive. "I’m not letting you go. Ever."

From that moment on, everything changed. Bakugo was still Bakugo—rough around the edges, fiercely protective, and sometimes a little too intense. But now, you understood the depth of his feelings, and you knew that, despite everything, he cared about you more than he was ever willing to admit.

And as you lay there, his hand still holding yours, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you had fallen for him too.

Requests are open.

[rebelscums]

Angel (Qimir x Jedi reader)

Part One of Angel

Ratings: Angst | Fluff

Summary: After the death of your master you begin to question the dark side and just who keeps appearing in your dreams…

The ringing in your head only grew as you opened your eyes. Your vision was blurry, but you knew that you were hanging from something… You drained your neck up to realize that it was a tree. You were stripped bare from your robes and something dropped slowly down your forehead past your nose… Blood.

“Master?” Your voice cracked as you called out to her.

The air felt thick and the smell of blood grew stronger, but you could hear her to your right.

“You must whisper, my padawan.” She whispered in the same predicament you were in, “It is hunting.”

“What is?” You whispered confused, hurt, and you knew you had a concussion, “What is going on?”

“They betrayed us and now they are offering us to the beast they fear from this jungle. It has already taken the other. We must remain vigilant and strong as we find a way out of us.”

You looked around, the moonlight brightening the forest floor just enough to see all of the blood and bones scattered everywhere.

Hours had passed as you both struggled to get out of your bindings without falling to the ground. You realized quickly that the tribe you were trying to help had drugged you heavily making it even harder to escape.

With the luck of the force, your master unblinded herself and swung over to one of the large branches on your tree.

“Stay still.” She requested as she began to untie your bindings, “Once you are free we will make a run towards the north river. Our shop is just across the river.”

“Okay.” You whispered as you began to feel the rope loosen.

“Almost…” Master Runh went to untie the rope. You were almost free… Almost.

It was so quick that you could barely see it grab your master between its large jaws and drag her down to the forest floor. Her screams echoed throughout the night as she yelled over and over…

“Run!”

Tears streamed down your face as you watched her get torn apart. Struggling to free the last not so you could help her… Save her… You needed to save her. You were so close.

“Master!” You cried out as her final breath left her body and through your tears you saw something or was it someone standing beside the beast over your dead master just watching you…

You jolted awake in your room with a startled gasp. It took you a moment for your brain to let you know that you were safe and it was only a dream, but but the wetness on your cheeks had let you know that you had been crying.

You quickly wiped your tears and went to the fresher to compose yourself. It had been a couple hours since you have been in hyper drive and you knew you would arrive to the next planet soon.

That means you had a bit of time to talk about your dream to Master Sol… Maybe he would have an answer for the mysterious figure.

“Master Sol.” You drew his attention away from the map he was looking at from where he sat at a table.

His tired eyes were now trained on you, a calm look on his face as he greeted you with a smile. He was an ever present and diligent master and you silently thought of how lucky Jecki was.

You have been missing master Runh dearly these days. She was a great master, someone that you could count on for anything. She was wise, and strong, and brave too… She aided and guided you as you grew up, leading you down the path of the Jedi. You were grateful to her for everything she has done for you. You believed in what it meant to be a Jedi.

Until she was killed a few months ago.

It wasn’t her fault, the two of you were betrayed and sold out by the tribe you were trying to help… It shook you to your core, leaving you with nightmares and sleepless nights. You could still hear her screams, see her body be torn to shreds by that horrible beast… A beast you barely ran away from with your life.

You remember it’s sharp claws digging into your right side, leaving you with a painful reminder of that night.

That was when the urges of darkness started to rise. A growing pain that settled in the pit of your stomach and rose to your throat almost like a scream. Your calm temper had grown shorter these days and with no other master willing to take you in during your last few months of training as you were too old and they were looking for someone with a more pliable mind.

You remember scoffing as you stood in the council room, an annoyed look suddenly spreading across your face. Not one free master would take you in so you could pass your trials. You almost threw a chair at the weak minded fools.

That was until you were placed in the care of Master Sol. He had graciously stepped up and offered to take you under his wing along with his current padawan. Master Runh was a dear friend of his and he refused to let her padawan be casted out.

“Yes?” He asked.

“My anger towards what happened to my master…” Your voice lowered into almost a whisper, “I feel as though it is getting worse.”

His gaze turned concerned as he lowered his voice, “I know what have you experience has been painful, but rage will only lead to the dark side. It was not your fault young padawan and I know that you will overcome this tragedy with great strength.”

“Thank you master, but my dreams…” You shivered as you remember them so vividly, “It’s always the same every night, but last night was different… It felt as if my master was warning me of someone.” You whispered, “There was…” A dark figure standing above my masters body.

My explanation was cut short as his former padawan butted into the conversation, “We’re nearly there. I was hoping you and I could talk before we go find Master Torbin?” Osha asked master Sol.

A torn look spread across his face as he tried to choose who he wants to help more… The sinking feeling in your gut at him looking back at Osha sealed your fate.

He started to say, “Maybe we could…” continue this another time.

It was the same thing you heard before and you raised your hand to stop him, “It’s alright. I should probably go get ready anyways.” You stood up from your seat and Osha quickly took your place.

“Another time.” He said again, an urgency in his voice.

You didn’t spare him another glance as you walked away, “Sure.” You knew you wouldn’t talk about it again.

You thought back to the figure in your dream as you followed after the group. Yord fell into step with you as he kept a watchful eye out.

“Your lost in thought.” He mentioned which seemed to work in snapping you out of your daze.

“I’m just worried for master Torbin.” You lied and a part of you hated the feeling, but you felt that it was necessary to keep the figure to yourself for now. At least until you can find out more about it.

“Mae has already killed Master Indara.” You continued, “Who knows what she is capable of.”

“The Jedi do not judge someone we do not know.” He said and his words twisted a not in your heart, “But I am confident that we will get to him in time.” He glanced at you, “There is no need to worry.”

His confidence made you cringe. How could I not worry when there was a Jedi killing assassin on the loose? Is no one here concerned? You thought.

It was safe to say that Jord’s plan to confront the mystery man was stupid.

“Or we skip that and she just talks to him.” Jecki said, “If he’s Mae’s accomplice, we can send her in. She can talk to him and we can record and monitor the conversation that way we have a lead on Mae plus we also get a confession from him. Seems like the most logical way.”

“That sounds like the better option out of the two.” You agreed.

“I’m in.” Mae nodded her head as she stepped forward.

“We will follow your plan padawan. It’s a good one.” Master Sol agreed.

That was all that was needed to spring into action on our mission. You watched as Osha stepped into the shop.

“Hello there.” You could hear her say over comms.

“Oh… Hello.” His voice sounded… Chipper. It seemed that he was happy to see her. Maybe he and Mae do know each other on a deeper level?

“Hi…” Osha’s voice trailed off as she seemed unsure of what to say.

“Hi?” His tone now held confusion to it.

“Come on Osha.” You muttered praying to the force with words of encouragement.

He continued sounding concerned, “You alright? You’re back so early?”

“I wanted to see you…”

“See me? Oh?” His light chuckle sent a pleasant chill you didn’t know the exact reason for, “Mae… Are you okay? Did the poison work?”

“That’s it.” Jecki looked up from the comms ready to go, “That’s all we need.”

“Pull her out.” Yord stated taking out his lightsaber.

You also made motion to grab your lightsaber, ready to head into the shop and confront the mysterious man before Sol put his arm out to stop you.

“Wait!” Master Sol’s sharp word had you, Yord, and Jecki all freeze in place. The four of you paid closer attention to the comm.

“You’re acting so strange…” The man spoke through the comms. There was a pause, as if he was assessing something about Osha, “Wait.”

Please don’t figure out she’s not Mae… You thought with worry.

“You killed Torbin without the poison.” He assessed with a light tone to his voice, “He will be so pleased.”

That seemed to be all Master Sol needed to hear as he said, “Go.” And pushed his group towards the man and Osha.

He was different than you expected him to be. A good way perhaps… He was easy on the eyes for a smuggler or was he a dealer? You weren’t sure. What you did know was how quick he was to sell out Mae.

You stayed partially hidden behind Jord. Your hood was up and your hand remained on your lightsaber as the stranger continued to explain himself.

“Wait wait…” He stumbled over his words as he tried to explain, “That isn’t my thing. This is her. I didn’t know what she was going to do with that stuff.”

“If you cooperate. We will consider letting you go with a warning.” Master Sol walked around him, assessing if he was a threat.

The man clasped his hands together, “Okay! Thank you! Thank you sir, ah… Please don’t do the memory wipe thing or whatever it is you guys do.” He held his hands up in surrender as he followed Master Sol’s movements.

You studied his movements, they were graceful compared to the nervous way he spoke.

“What is your relationship to Mae?” Was the first question Master Sol asked.

“I’m just her supplier.” He explained quickly walking around the room and using his hands as he spoke, “Yeah, I started out gun running for the hits and now I supply people like her with what they need. For the right price.”

He seemed to calm but too fidgety at the same time as if it were almost forced…

“Well maybe you could supply us with the truth.” Jord’s voice was stern and left no room for debate.

You hid further behind his stance as the man turned around. Not ready to reveal that you have been studying him intently to see if he was telling the truth or stalling for time…

“Who is he?” Master Sol asked.

The man gave him a confused look, “Ah… I? I thought he was with you?” He asked pointing back at Jord.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped past your lips, but quickly stifled it as his amused gaze tried to find your behind Jord’s frame.

Master Sol didn’t find it funny as he continued, “Does Mae have a master? Is someone training her?”

“Listen I have no idea what’s going on with that girl.” He stepped towards Master Sol, “All I know… Is that she wants revenge on four Jedi.”

The room fell silent as a grave realization settled… Four Jedi was stationed on Osha and Mae’s planet and Master Sol was one of them…

His eyes widened as an idea sparked, “If you want to get to her, she’ll be back here tonight. I’m holding some things for her.”

“Jord. Secure the perimeter. Keep an eye out for Mae.” Master Sol ordered, “Jecki get to the ship. Mae, you are coming with me and…”

Your heart beat quickly in your chest as Master Sol looked in your direction, “You will stay here and make sure that he does not try to escape.”

“But—“ Your pleas were left unanswered as he gave you a look. You bit your tongue and nodded, “Yes master.”

“Good. Let us go.” Master Sol stated, “Mae will be here soon.”

You watched with a knot in your stomach as your group left. How could they just leave me here alone with a stranger? You thought as you clenched and unclenched your right fist to try and keep your nerves at bay.

You tried to take a calming breath. You are a Jedi. You can guard an unarmed man. He couldn’t hurt you. This will go smoothly without any problem… You squeezed your eyes shut as the screams of your master rang through your ears.

You were alone then too… You but your biotin lip, grateful that your hood hid your face as you stared longingly at the door. You didn’t want to be left alone with a stranger… You couldn’t handle it, not again. Your breathing began to pick up, something that the stranger noticed immediately.

“So…” He spoke in an airy tone in an attempt to lighten the mood and get your mind off of whatever you were thinking about, “Who might you be Angel?”

[propertyofwicked]

sambuca - LN

warnings: swearing, alcohol and mentions of being sick.

short fluff :) fewtrell!reader

this can be read as a stand alone or as a prequel to the secrets series!

the moment her friend ordered a round of black sambuca, she knew her night was going to turn in a horrible direction, but she was too drunk to care, necking the shot back and coughing as the liquid travelled down her throat. in her few years of adulthood, she’d yet to have a night end well after the shots got ordered.

as last orders were called, y/n started to panic. it was too late to call her brother to pick her up and she was far too drunk to walk home, but almost by instinct, she scrolled through her contacts, landing on her brothers best friend. in her drunken state, she didn’t seem to realise it was 2am and that he might be asleep - he always helped her, so why wouldn’t he now, she thought to herself.

her phone rang twice before he picked up.

“y/n?” lando grumbled, clearly haven just been woken up, “is everything ok?”

she replied, but it was completely incoherent, her words slurring into a mashup of her sentence.

“y/n? who are you with? is caitlin there?” he asked, and she nodded before realising he couldn’t see her and gave him a quick mhm.

“can you pass the phone to her please, angel?” he said, and the phone was being passed to the girls best friend, who was surprisingly still standing, and most importantly to lando, speaking sense.

“hiiii lando,” she said, slurring but still coherent, “is everything ok?”

“that’s what i want to ask you,” he laughed, “are you guys leaving now? do you need a lift home?”

“i don’t,” she said, hiccupping, “but i think your girl might need somewhere to crash for the night.”

“text me the pub you’re at, ill be there in 10 minutes.”

“ok - you might wanna bring a bucket.”

“i might not bring the mclaren then,” he laughed again, before hanging up, throwing a hoodie on and grabbing his car keys. he reached the door, before doubling back to the kitchen, picking up a plastic bag and a bottle of water. this was not his first rodeo, and he didn’t feel like having a repeat of the time she vomited in max’s car and his shoes.

when he pulled up outside the pub, it didn’t take him long to see y/n, crouched to the floor, back leaning against the wall of the pub, her poor friend stood next to her, reaching down slightly to stroke her hair. lando moved out of the car, walking round to where the girl was sat, quickly realising her eyes were streaming tears. crouching down to her level, his hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“hey angel, what’s up? why are we crying?”

why was she crying? because she thought about how pretty and kind lando was and it made drunk little brain sad to think that he would never want her was the real answer, instead she settled for

“i don’t know,” she sad sadly, looking up at him and smiling slightly when their eyes met, “you won’t tell max about this, will you?”

“of course not,” he replied, although not sure what he was agreeing to hide from max. as he raised himself up to stand, he grabbed her arms to pull her up with him, although her balanced failed and she toppled into his chest - his arms came to rest on her waist to stabilise her.

“sorry,” she mumbled, looking up at him again, she was so close he could smell the alcohol on her breath.

“it’s ok y/n,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her back, before glancing to the girl besides her, “who gave her sambuca?”

“not me,” she defends herself, holding up her hands.

“fucks sake.”

“in my defence, by the time i tried to stop her, she’d already drank it.”

“it’s alright, this is going to be rough. worse for her though,” he responds, moving to turn y/n around in his arms and march her in the direction of his car, “you still fine to get home?”

“don’t worry about me, please just get her into a bed. or a sofa. or a bathroom.” and with that he helped y/n into the passenger seat, reaching across her to buckle her in.

“you smell nice,” she slurred into his ear as he moved back. he chose to ignore the comment, feeling his heart skip a beat, shut the door and jog back round to the drivers side.

“see you later, caitlin. message y/n when you get home safe please,” he adds, waving to the girl before climbing in the car himself.

“what are we gonna do with you?” he asks to no one, glancing to the girl hunched over in his passenger seat, pulling off slowly.

“hi,” she perks up after 5 minutes of silence, looking to the side to smile at him. his side profile is so pretty, she thinks to herself, before shaking any thoughts like that out her brain.

“hi yourself,” he responds, flicking the indicator on, “how you feeling?”

“im good.”

“you sure? i don’t need to pull over do i?”

“not yet. just, just keep driving slow. please,” she begs slightly.

“it’s ok we’re nearly there.”

“where is there?”

“my flat.”

“not max’s?”

“i don’t think you want max seeing you in this state. i don’t think max’s shoes want to see you in this state either,” he joked.

“HEY! that was one time. and i bought him new shoes after.”

“no you didn’t.”

“ok. you bought him new shoes, but i gave them to him,” she argues back, lando simply snorts in response.

“we’re here angel,” he says, coming to a slow stop. angel, she thought, i like when he calls me that.

she grabs the door handle, flinging the door open, and moves to stand up before bashing her head on the roof of the low car.

“fuck,” she exclaimed, “that was a bit silly of me, wasn’t it.”

“yes, it was,” lando replied bluntly, moving to take one of her hands in his, the other resting on the top of his car to provide a soft bumper if she hit her head again.

“are you mad at me?” she asks sadly, after seeing his jaw clench and unclench on the way to his flat.

“not at you, angel, never at you. im mad at whoever gave you sambuca.”

“i gave it to me,” she says, giggling. he simply shakes his head at her.

the moment the front door shuts, she’s sprinting to his bathroom, the mixture of drinks finally resurfacing in the back of her throat. lando follows quickly behind her, just in time to bend behind her and scoop her hair up out of her face, his spare hand moving to stroke her back softly.

“that’s it, get it all up,” he coos softly, “thank you for not doing this in my car,” although he doubts she can hear his remark.

“gonna sleep in my bed tonight, angel? is that ok? wanna keep an eye on you,” he asks her as she finally sits, resting her back on his stomach. she looks up at him, nodding slightly, eyes blinking heavily in exhaustion.

“need to take my make up off,” she says, still slurring but less than before. he nods before moving to his bathroom cabinet, pulling out a cleanser and wipes.

“why do you have those?”

“they’re yours, y/n. from the last time you and max stayed over after a night out.” she says nothing in response, simply leaning back into him again as he moves his arm around her to wipe away the makeup on her face. his actions are not to soft, but not too rough - again, this is not his first rodeo with a drunk y/n fewtrell. once he’s done, he shuffles out to his bedroom, leaving y/n on the bathroom floor, to wallow in self pity, she thought to herself. when he returns he throws a shirt at her, and a pair of his boxers for her to change in to.

“ill be in my room, come find me when you’re changed,” he says, turning on his heel to leave her in privacy. she stands to change, catching a glance at herself in the mirror.

jesus, i look so rough. i cannot sleep in that mans bed. this is bad. this is very bad.

but alas, y/n found herself climbing into lando’s bed mere minutes later, choosing comfort over the protection of her feelings.

“come ‘ere,” he says to her, pulling her gently towards him, her head coming to rest on his chest as his arms wrap around her, “why did you get so drunk y/n?”

“m’celebrating.”

“celebrating what?”

“life,” she says, she would’ve thought of a better reason had her heart not been beating a thousand times a minute.

“get some sleep. there’s some water on your side if you need it. your phones on charge next to it.”

“thank you, lan. for this, for picking me up, for dealing with my shit.”

“don’t mention it, angel. now, rest. ill deal with you in the morning.” now she may have been drunk, but she could feel lando’s lips pressing gently to the top of her head.

“turn it off,” she groans, light flooding behind her eye lids, lando chuckles.

“turn what off? the sun? sorry let me just tap into my divine powers and sort that out for you, your majesty.”

“shut up.”

“you started it.”

she groaned again, opening her eyes fully. quickly she realised she was laying on her side, her back pressed into lando’s back, his arms still tightly around her. her arm reaches out to grab her phone and check her messages.

“caitlin told me to tell you she’s home safe, she also said good luck - why is she wishing you luck?”

“probably due to the state you were in last night,” he laughs again.

“oh my god, im so sorry.”

“don’t be, it was funny.”

“funny? it was mortifying. my head hurts so bad.”

“have some water, there’s some paracetamol there for you as well.”

“no not like a headache. like my head actually hurts,” she adds, moving her arm to rub the stop on her head that ached.

“oh! that’ll be from when you smacked your head on the roof of my car,” he replies, moving his own hand up to her head to inspect the damage.

“no that’s so embarrassing i didn’t do that,” she denies, a red flush rising on her cheeks.

“i can ask security for the camera footage in the car park if you want.”

“shut up,” she said bluntly, as he bit the urge to respond with make me. he found himself quickly reminded of his promise last night. don’t tell max. the position he found himself in now was a sobering realisation as to how max really couldn’t know about this.

“you want a lift to max’s?” he asks suddenly.

“erm, no. could you take me to caitlin’s instead? all good if not, i can get an uber.”

“nah that’s fine, when do you wanna go?”

they moved swiftly on from max, both silently agreeing that any sign of y/n in lando’s clothes, hungover and crawling out of his car was a bad idea. a very bad idea.

[elizzsush]

“Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” | DC - Batman WIP

Batfam X Isekaied Reader

— in which you, a DC fan gets isekaied into and gets saved by boy wonder. Only to get mad at him and B… it’s only after you calm down (still mad at them) you piece together what actually happened… but should you tell them?

AU: Soulmate (?), isekai Rating: Sfw

Note: You and Damien are the same age and shit. I don’t really remember how old he is but for the sake of fanfiction let’s age him up to 18 (or down I looked it up and it said he was 37? I have no idea where that info was from comic are confusing)

Warning: Y/N swears a lot and makes a like one sexual joke? _________________________________

One minute you were in the greatest, most magical place in the world: Six flags. And the next you were in the sewer. To say you were pissed and totally confused was an understatement. Those funnel cakes by the entrance were calling your name- you were gonna get one before you left! Now instead of that sweet cake smell it was replaced with the smell of shit and piss and whatever else lived in the sewer.

Sixflags was suppose to be relaxing- doctors orders. You just needed to relax and distract from-

You were in the sewers. You dreaded to think about what you may have stepped in while on your quest to find a manhole cover.

So yes, you looked like an idiot in a Superman cape carrying a Wayne enterprises mug wondering around the sewers. The mug was half off and made you feel like you existed in the world of DC instead of the regular merchandise… and the cape was because who doesn’t get a cape when they go to six flags? Or at least bring the cape they already bought with them. Looking back, you blamed the mug. Anyway, you were wandering around this horrible sewer with water greener then green. It seriously looked toxic… when you heard this horrible roar…

You glanced back from where you came- looking towards the sound, when you heard it again. So, like any sane person. You broke out into a sprint.

Bad ideas, because it heard you and was coming closer now.

You seriously doubted you would be able to outrun this thing for long. It was getting closer and rapidly. But, thankfully, luck was on your side- because you saw a manhole cover!

Climbing the ladder you pushed the thing open-

Only to almost get ran over by a fucking car! “Watch it!” You cursed at the speeding car, a certain finger proudly in the air as you climb out. Momentarily forgetting about the creature that was chasing you. Remember that you slammed the man hole cover shut in a hurry.

But, did you think you could compete with some monster when it comes to the battle of strength? Yeah, didn’t think so either. It blasted the manhole cover off of its neat little spot and you hurry back and away from the road. “What the- oh my god.” You breath in relief when the thing was too big to actually climb out of the sewers. “Killer croc… okay… I’m losing it… whatever it is…” you try and breath out to collect yourself but you were interrupted by the sound of a very angry lizard man… thing. Crocodile? “Okay fuck off!” You shouted angrily at the villain and rip your cap off. “Abusive aunts or some shit is hard but by god your annoying!” You huff and run away because that just made him more angry and you didn’t want to stick around for that.

You did run away while waving two fingers at him, each from the middle of two of your hands but that was neither here nor there. You just needed to walk away and clear your head-

And…

You bumped into someone on your little escape. A chest of a fucking cosplayer. “My day couldn’t be going worse- oh my god, Fuck you Comic Con nerds!” You swore at the boy in black, red and green. “Six flags was suppose to be fucking relaxing!” You swore at him and turned away to go the opposite way only to bare witness to the snarls of a certain croc

“get back here!” He made the fucking ground shake.

“Fuck you and your shitty Damien cosplay, I am out of here.” You turn and ran from him only he to met with the silhouette of a bat… man, it was fucking Batman. “Oh I wonder who it is? Bruce Wayne, no fucking duh, Go fight the idiot on acid and leave me out of it.” You hissed because you were cornered. You tend to lash out when your cornered. He approached you quieter now. “…Oh um, I’ll take the crocodile, thanks.” You spoke as you backed up only for him to make the ground shake harder-

“Fine! Boy wonder then god damn. At least he’s hot!”

“How do You know our names?” Boy wonder piped up. He was suddenly standing beside you.

“Are You dense or really into role play?” You hissed at them. “I don’t know what kind of budget your little prank crew is working with but screw off!” Just then the crocadile managed to ruin the ground around him and break free- resulting in Batman and Robin to fight him and you-

The sane one to run away, “I’m so suing six flags for this- didn’t sign up for their fucking role-play shit.”

—————————————

Okay, so after adjusting. You were no longer in six flags- nor some rich nerds cosplay special effects whatever. Hell you didn’t even somehow end up on a movie set shooting for the next Batman. “Gotham more like god dammit, right?” You joked to yourself, and the old women next to you. She just looked at you weirded out and oddly disappointed before shaking her head. “Okay, Fuck me then.”

So, yeah, you were feeling a lot of emotions. Hey, you can adjust to this! Because no way in hell was getting back to your world worth being involved in whatever episode or comic plot this whole thing was. Yeah no, fuck that. You made a checklist.

1. Get out of Gotham (metropolis was lovely, Superman was cool-)

2. Get enough money to fuck off to some corner of the world no one knew about.

And finally 3. Live peacefully knowing you’ll never get that funnel cake.

The only problem? You didn’t have any money, food, shelter, phone, money again, or anything besides the clothes on your back. And you were craving funnel cake. Yes, you were poor in Gotham. That was basically a death sentence.

At least you had a mug. A stupid, useless mug. Hey, at least you can beg for change with it! “I should rob people.” You mutter to yourself because, that seemed like a good easy way to get money- the old women next to you however eyed you warily and moved her purse. “Not you, we’re cool Margaret.” You sent her a wave and a wink and got up. This plan would work.

It was this or sell the Justice leagues names to villains. Which- hey that could make cash and make you dead!

—————————————

Despite what people will tell you, stealing is fun.

Who would have guessed- your a natural pick pocket! If pick pocketing was running past women and tugging their bags away. “My bag! My purse!” Okay, maybe you had a bit of a sick sense of humor but you were desperate! And you made 132 dollars and 25 cents. Had it been two days? Yes, had you been pepper sprayed twice? Yes again, but you avoided it!

The only regret you had? Why hadn’t it been marvel? Marvel just seemed easier to live in. Yes the world did end but it bounced back! You sighed and threw a penny in the air. You were honestly tired. Two days was a long time to go without a bed. You couldn’t get a job either, you tired and needed so much to prove you were a serial killer or a thief- which included a birth certificate you didn’t have and so much more. Background checks would be the death of you. Even at that small cafe you met Margret? Yeah it was Margret. “Well we’ll well, if it isn’t Gotham’s newest petty criminal.”

You dropped your penny. Leaving you with 24 cents.

It was Jason fucking Todd.

“If I die, at least make it by those thighs.” You said solemnly, accepting your death. “I mean seriously, you squat or something?” You did a wolf whistle and now you were being detained. Okay, you tried.

You never claimed to be better then a man. And if you did you lied.

“I got her B.”

.

.

.

.

“Banananannaan Batman! Da Na!” You sang as Batman’s Batmobile pulled into the bat cave. The same one you had been dragged too. “He’s the crime fighting vigilantes who works alone! Besides Robin, Nightwing, Gordon, the Justice League, batgirl, Red Robin, red hood, Oracle, Barbra, um… I know theirs more help me out jay bird?” You sang as he excited the car. “He refuses to kill the joker who’s a mass murder ands death would save thousands! It’s Batman! The hero man! Danananana!”

“How do You know?” Batman asked as he walked towards you.

“The Song? Oh I improvised. Hard to find rhymes for Batman, hero man is pretty good though, huh?” He fucking punched you! “Fuck! What the hell dude? Wait are you the angry Batman who’s quieter or the nice Batman- god it’s so hard to know which one I ended up with.”

“This is serious.” Dick Said as he grabbed Batman hand and pulled him away from you.

“Heard of coping? penis?” You rolled your eyes, “this is kinda how I do it.”

“You sold our information, or Superman’s information too a villain. Tell us why and how you knew it and we’ll let you go.” He continued, “our friend is in serious danger now because of you.” He gritted his teeth looking upset.

You just rolled your eyes and licked your now bloody teeth. “Would have sold your guys information for a lot more then I got on me. Living large with eight dogs- maybe cats? Don’t know how I feel about animals actually. Which do you prefer dogs or cats?”

“We need to know how many villains you sold us out too.” Dick said calmly, his face getting closer to your own. “Now.”

You smile and lean closer to him. “You free after this?” He backed away with a frustrated look and Batman put his hand on Dick shoulder. “Oh B is tapping in now- great!”

“Your the only person who knows who we are.” Another voice said you looked behind you and saw Damien.

“That you don’t trust. Maybe check your inner circles before punching a poor thief! God… you’d think the world greatest detective would fact check- oh wait isn’t the greatest a chimp or something? I’ve always loved monkeys- oh maybe I’d get a monkey for my pent house.”

“You have no family, no friends, no birth certificate- before last week you didn’t exist. There are no records of you being born or traveling to Gotham. Who exactly are you?” Batman leaned close to you.

You stayed silent, thinking of your options. "I was with a traveling circus..." You began, "Then one day someone rigged the equipment for my parent's routine and then batman adopted me, and that was how I began robin..." You spoke solemnly, you noticed how a certain blue suited bird man tensed up. "Aw, don't tell me we have the same backstory!" You accused the Nighwing, "well one of us is going to have to change it and I hate to tell you, but I make it work."

"She knows more about us than our names... or at least more about Nighwing." You heard a robin mutter, the red one.

"Okay being red was his thing” you look at red hood, “and you took it, so you have no place to talk about me and penis's copycat situation- Even though I totally did it first and he should change it." You nudged your head towards Red Hood, "Kinda like how you took his role as Robin, but you know what Ima stay away from that can of worms haha." You laughed awkwardly as Jason stood up from behind you and walked towards you menacingly.

"This is a Major Turn Off for me you know? The costumes just don’t do it- maybe if you strip-“ and your mouth was tapped shut.

_____________________________________NOTE: Y/N is supposed to be Deadpool coded because I was watching Deadpool and laughing my ass off earlier.

[reidmania]

hi!! i saw you taking request so here is an idea :)

fem!reader and spencer in an established relationship and they really love each other but they get into a fight. they both say things they dont mean so reader rushes out and while driving away she feels sorry and calls spencer but it goes to voicemail. she starts to send him one saying how sorry she is and that she loves him but is cut off with a loud crash. spencer gets the voicemail and hears about her car accident and rushes to hospital, you can end it however you want hahah. im sorry if this is too much but i feel like you are the only one who can do justice to this <33

guilt ridden | spencer reid

summary ; reader and spencer get into a silly argument that ends in hospital trips and a lot of apologises.

warnings; fem reader, established relationships, arguments, cm things, car accidents and hospitals, arguments, spencer being an ass and reader also being an ass which is all forgotten when things get serious, kinda rushed. angst, happish ending, hurt x comfort kindaish.

an; im sorry this took me so long and im sorry if its horrible. i really just wanted to get this one out of the way bc i rlly enjoyed the idea!!

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back in the morning at some point so I don’t want you to worry and I know you will probably be pissed right now and that okay— You should be. I am too, but I am sorry. I didn’t mean it — I shouldn’t have said it but it was just, in the moment I wasn’t thinking.. Im sorry Spence. I love—”

There was the sound of a gasp, then a bang and then it was silent for a minute until the voice message ended itself. The sound sent goosebumps along Spencer’s arms and sweat to build up over the back of his neck as anxiety made its bed in his stomach.

His entire body went cold as he stood in the kitchen — The same place he had been standing when the stupid argument took place before you grabbed your keys and walked out, muttering how if he was that sick of you, you’d get out of his way before the door slammed behind you.

He had thought about following you and telling you to stay but in the moment he was just angry. So angry. Not even entirely at you, just everything.

He had just gotten home from a case after being away for a week — a case where they couldn’t save the victims. It was one that affected Spencer more than he wanted to admit, all he wanted was to come home and shower.

Then he got home and you immediately hugged him and rambled on about how you missed him and normally — any other time he would adore the feeling of your arms around him, he would breathe in your scent and breath it back out before going on about the case.

This time was different, everything was too much. The grasp of your arms made his body tense rather than relax, your scent was suffocating mixed with the smell of the food on the stove and the candle lit in the living room. It was all just too much.

Not because it was you, there was nothing wrong with you. It was just the day built up, and it was too much for him.

So he pushed you away and began his way to the bedroom wordlessly, where he showered, and eventually came back a little more relaxed — only now you were the one in the bad mood.

Which ended in an argument between the two of you, you called him childish and immature, he called you suffocating and needy.

Neither of you meant it.

But that didn’t stop the hurt that seeped in and the tension that grew between the two of you. Until you were shaking your head telling him to go fuck himself, grabbing your keys and walking towards the front door.

Spencer regretted his words almost immediately when the door slammed shut and didn’t open again. He didn’t mean it but he couldn’t bring himself to follow you yet — he needed to calm down and he was sure you did as well.

He didn’t ignore your call, not on purpose. He was unpacking his stuff when his phone rang from where he had left it in the kitchen. Finding it ten minutes later to hear the voice mail you left, well he had never felt a more intense ache in his chest.

Something was wrong, seriously wrong. He tried calling again and again to no avail as the call went straight to voicemail every-time. He texted you as well.

He was in his car moments later, driving to the nearest hospital because if you were anywhere — it would be there. He heard the ambulance sirens on the way and they did nothing but build the tension in between his muscle and bones.

It wasn’t until an hour later of waiting and pacing around in the hospital waiting room that someone came to tell him that you were here — stable, but in a lot of pain.

He had never felt something like this. Every bit of his mind went blank as walked fast towards the room the nurse had directed him to. His knees felt like jelly and he felt sick to his stomach.

That sick didn’t compare to the one he felt when he saw you lying in the hospital bed, fading in and out of consciousness, a doctor by your side. You were bruised and bloodied and Spencer didn’t think he could stand for another minute as his legs carried him towards the chair next to your bed.

“Honey.” His voice came out a gasp.

But all the same concerned and guilty. Your head turned slightly towards the sound of his voice and he was almost sure his heart broke at the sound of pain that left your lips when moving.

“Spence” You were hardly audible, voice small and so quiet, full of hurt. Genuine pain, you were in genuine pain that you wouldn’t have been in if Spencer had just pulled his head in and didn’t act like an absolute idiot.

It was hard to think about the argument now, how it felt like everything at the time and nothing now. His hand reached out for yours as he tried to ignore the tears that burned in the back of his eyes.

“Im so sorry” He mumbled out. It didn’t even begin to describe the amount of guilt he felt burnt into his stomach, and every inch of his body. He felt sick to his stomach and was almost sure he was going to throw up. “Im so sorry- God Im sorry” He couldn’t help the series of apologies that streamed from his lips, still they didn’t even slightly cover the blame he took in his mind.

“Spence” You said again, almost as if you were unable to say or think about anything else. Despite the pain medication that you had been given — everything hurt.

“Im right here— Im right here.” He repeated, moving the chair in closer, he saw a soft sigh leave your lips despite it being so quiet he couldn’t hear it. He saw your eyes closed and for a moment he genuinely felt his heart break and drop, until they opened again.

You squeeze his hand slightly, it was soft and gentle, all the energy you could muster up put into doing so. “I know. Im sorry” You apologised and it hurt Spencer.

It genuinely made him feel pain in his stomach that you were lying in a hospital bed in an abundance of pain and yet — apologising to him for an argument that seemed so insignificant now.

“Don’t.” Spencer shook his head.

“Don’t apologise, I was an ass— I deserved it. you- You didn’t deserve this. God please don’t apologise.” He almost begged.

The words died on your tongue. Whatever you were going to say now a second thought as you realised Spencer was going to drive himself insane with the guilt and blame of this.

“Its not your fault.” You huffed out.

It was enough to sooth a small part of Spencer’s mind, your voice outweighing the one in his head that held him responsible. Your comfort the one he needed. His hand squeezed yours back.

“I love you — So much. You aren’t suffocating or needy in the slightest.” He felt the need to let you know. God if something happened to you and the last thing you’d heard him say was that he thought you were something— anything other than the most important person in his life and the one who he turned to for everything, the one person he truly loved and adored

Well he would never forgive himself

“I love you” You muttered back weekly, shuffling over on the hospital bed despite the pain that coursed through your body in doing so you made room for him. “Lay with me?” You asked.

He huffed something out before shaking his head, standing up and lowering himself onto the hospital bed. He was careful of your injuries and any pain you may be in as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you” He repeated as he placed a soft kiss on the corner of your shoulder. It made a sigh leave your lips, before turning your head to face him.

“I love you.”

[sun-kissy]

oh my gosh! I am in love! pleaseee continue this

https://www.tumblr.com/saturnitystar/758532956071624704/chocolate-coated-hearts-rl?source=share

yesss i love barista!remus too much not to continue <3 !! i got so carried away and this was way longer than i expected it to be haha

chocolate-coated hearts | r.l. (part 2)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

barista!remus x shy!reader

tw: fluff, use of y/n

The rain patters down mercilessly, the tip-tap sound from where it’s hitting your file awfully loud. You break into a slight jog, holding the black file above your head as if it would offer some sort of protection against the downpour.

You were on the way back from the university, and had conveniently ignored your roommate’s reminders to bring an umbrella earlier that morning, because oh, are you sure you checked the forecast for the right day? and it hasn’t rained in weeks – why the hell would it rain today? Unfortunately, it did rain today.

The dampness soaked through your shoes as you moved, splashing upwards to wet your pants. You let out an exasperated sigh and lift your head, eyes darting around to seek shelter until the rain subsided.

In your peripheral vision, you could see a library – but that was way too chilly, given the way you were trembling. There was a bar, but… that was where your weird neighbour, Carl, went every evening. And you were in absolutely no mood to entertain his rambling. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as you trot a little further in an attempt to find a decent place. Wetness was seeping into your clothes, igniting a chill throughout your entire body.

As the seconds ticked by, you felt the frustration building up. Everything was just going so wrong today. Your lecturer had returned your analysis of Pride and Prejudice, and you had done so badly that it had to be redone. Plus, you were supposed to go out with Madison for lunch, but she had fallen horribly sick. And now, the torrential rain seemed to be mocking you – adding insult to injury.

The warm orange lighting of a sign came into view, and you squint your eyes to make out the words. Rubbing water off your face, you realise that the sign said Beanie’s. Well, it was a cafe – that was good enough. As you veered off the pathway to the right, you could smell freshly-baked cookies and coffee from the place. It better be warm inside, you thought. One more screw-up, and you genuinely believed you would burst.

You come to a stop outside the cafe, taking laboured gasps of air to catch your breath. You shake the water off your file and push the door open, stepping inside.

Fortunately, it was warm inside – you could feel the hot air blowing onto your skin immediately, drying your clothes from inside out. But to your misfortune, the heat seemed to be spreading to your face as well when you caught sight of the person behind the counter.

It had completely slipped your mind. But now it was all coming back to you, staring at his chiselled arms as he placed a plate of bagels on a tray. Your incident a few weeks ago, when you’d embarrassingly frozen on the spot and let the hot barista pick your donuts for you.

That had weighed on your mind for days, the way you had humiliated yourself in front of possibly the most angelic person on earth, and how said angel had treated you as though you were some kind of delicate flower.

You glance back out at the rain, drawing your lip in between your teeth as you contemplated your options. Either you went back out there, or you moved forward and ordered from Mr. Super Hot Barista. And you were definitely not going back into the rain.

Sucking in a deep breath, you brushed your soaked hair out of your face and wiped your hands on your sweatshirt. You shake off as much water as possible before walking towards the counter, feeling shivers run down your spine – from the cold or from shyness, you weren’t sure.

“Hi.” It comes out unnecessarily loudly, and you cringe. You actively try not to ogle at him, and your eyes fall on the tag on his shirt. Remus, it said. For fuck’s sake, even his name was pretty.

Mr. Super Hot Barista – Remus – looked up from the cookies he was boxing, his hazel eyes meeting yours. You could have sworn something like recognition flashed in his gaze. “Hey,” he smiled easily.

It was happening again, and you hated it. You felt your throat start to go dry as you held his gaze, and his smile slowly widened. You swallowed nervously, the quick drip, drip of water from your hair mirroring how fast your heart was beating. He very well knew the effect he was having on you, and was taking full advantage of it.

“So,” Remus started, “What would you like to order, sweetness?”

You thought you were going to pass out from the sheer amount of endearment in the nickname, eyes widening and cheeks turning pink. But you were a strong, independent young woman. And you were not going to let some random barista knock you off your feet.

“One small cappuccino, please,” you squeak, horrified at how small your voice was.

“Right,” he ducked his head to key it into the register, and you resist the urge to reach out and brush your fingers through his gorgeous curls. “And would you like any chocolate donuts with that?”

You swore your stomach flipped upside down at the comment – he remembered your little situation. Your hands come up to cover your reddening cheeks as you involuntarily let out an embarrassed groan.

The sound of his soft chuckle only exacerbates the sensation of your heart bobbing up and down in your chest. “Sorry, sorry – just messing with you.”

You let out a strangled sort of noise, still unwilling to look up and let him see just how flushed you probably were. When you press your face further into your palms, his voice softens. “Hey, I’m not trying to put you on the spot, I swear. I’m sorry.”

The slight tinge of guilt in his voice makes you look up immediately as you drop your hands to your sides. You see him standing in front of the coffee machine, preparing your cappuccino. “No, no. You’re not putting me on the spot, I’m just –” you sputter out, letting out a nervous chortle.

“God, you’re really embarrassed, aren’t you?” he breathes out in quiet laughter. “Calm down, pretty girl. I promise I won’t bite.” That majorly sucks, you thought. You envisioned how his lips would look biting into a cream puff, cursing yourself for even thinking of it a moment later.

“Okay,” you mumble, flipping your slightly less damp hair over your shoulder. And the next thing you utter, you don’t even think about it before saying it. “Don’t call me pretty girl.”

You immediately slap a hand to your mouth, eyes widening in shock at your own tongue. Literature students, and the yappers they are, Madison had once complained. Now you knew just how right she was.

Remus let out an amused snort, his lips curving upwards in a grin. “Okay, sorry, sweetness.”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Someone’s picky,” he muttered, the smile still on his face as he pressed a lid onto the cup of coffee before pushing it towards you. “What can I call you, then?”

“Y/n,” you mumble, praying that your delight at having been asked your name was not showing on your face.

“Y/n,” he lets it roll around on his tongue, a sweet smile playing on his lips. He scribbles something onto your cup. “That’s a nice name.”

“You too,” you say without thinking, glancing downwards to pull money out the pocket of your pants. You look up to find him eyeing you with his eyebrow arched. A giggle escapes you as you point at his nametag. “Remus, right?”

He looks down at his shirt and chuckles, realisation lighting up his face. “Yeah, my name’s Remus.”

Remus glances back up as you drop the money into his hand. And you’re very careful not to let your fingers brush against his palm this time.

His smile was soft and sunny, making it feel like it had never even rained in the first place. “Bye.”

“Bye,” you echo, your heart fluttering in your chest as you offer him a smile. You turn around to find a table, and just then realise that the cafe was as crowded as it was the last time you were here, if not more.

You purse your lips worriedly. It was still storming outside, and you really needed to get started on your failed analysis and your newly assigned one –

“Y/n!”

You swivel back around to find Remus grinning at you. “You can sit here,” he gestures at the bar stools in front of the platform, which were unoccupied. “I get lonely anyway. It’ll be nice to have some fun company.”

“Oh,” you murmur, an unignorable sense of relief settling over you. “Okay, thanks.” You make your way over, setting your coffee and tote bag down on the platform before hauling yourself up onto the stool.

As he picks up donuts and packs them into boxes, you pull out your book and a stack of foolscap. Remus glances up at the sound, his face immediately lighting up. “M.L. Rio?”

You nod. If We Were Villains was the next book you were assigned to work on.

“That was a good book,” he says casually as he begins to work again. “Why, are you annotating it or something?”

You try not to beam. He reads, your brain was screaming at you. He reads and he has excellent fucking taste. Could he possibly be more perfect?

“Not just annotating,” you reply, a pleased lilt to your voice. “Analysing, for a project. Oh – I forgot to mention, I’m majoring in literature.”

“Literature, huh?” he grins as he sets his tongs down, and he looks almost bemused. “Interesting.”

You pull out a pen and begin to write, the smile never fading from your face. He lets you work in silence, the only sound being the metallic clinking of tongs as he packs pastries into bags and boxes.

“Hot take,” he says suddenly, a couple minutes later. You look up, surprised. “I don’t believe James was some sort of tragic hero, as people make him out to be. I think he was the villain.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he snorts, and a laugh bubbles out of you. “That’s a ridiculous opinion.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “As a literature student, I think you need to be more open-minded.”

“The title is ‘If We Were Villains’, not ‘I Am The Villain’!” you retort indignantly, earning a loud bout of laughter from him. He shakes his head indulgently, continuing to stack boxes. “Great point.”

You can hear the deadpan in his voice, but decide to take it as a victory anyway. Grinning, you get back to your book as a comfortable silence settles over the both of you.

It was hard, but you were trying your hardest not to glance up at him every once in a while. The glowy orange light on the ceiling shone down on him, and you felt your curiosity growing towards the pale scars that decorated his face.

Whenever he caught you staring, you immediately evaded his gaze and took a sip of your coffee, or jotted something onto your paper. You thought you may have seen him trying not to smile a couple of times.

You blink as you glanced at your foolscap, which was full of random squiggly lines and words written in an attempt to make it seem like you were concentrating. But it was absolutely impossible to focus with Remus in front of you.

You furrow your eyebrows disappointedly. It really was important that you finished this up by tonight, and you were obviously not getting any work done here. One look outside told you that, unfortunately, the rain had stopped and the moon had come out.

Remus perked up when he heard the shuffling coming from you. He looked up to see you packing your things. “Leaving so soon?”

“Sorry,” you mutter as you pick up your cup of coffee, almost finished with it. “I’ve got more work to do at home.” The stool screeches as you stand up, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. You rake your fingers through your hair – you had spent so long in the cafe, it was completely dry now.

He smiles, “Nah, you don’t need to apologise. It was fun talking to you.”

Your heart smiled at that. “Yeah, I had fun too.”

He stays silent for a moment, observing you. Your face starts to feel hot again. “Okay then, I’m gonna go.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” he calls out, causing you to turn back around.

You tilt your head questioningly. “There’s a poetry reading happening here, tomorrow, at 5pm. You like poetry?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, I like poetry.”

He nods, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Come round if you’re free. I think you’ll like it.”

It felt like fireworks had begun to explode everywhere within you, from your head to toes and even in those little spaces between your fingers. “Okay,” you murmur. Your heart was tingling with excitement. “I’ll try to make it.”

“Great,” he grins, chucking his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the platform behind him. “Cool, then. See you.”

“See you,” you smile dazedly, pivoting and walking towards the exit with your coffee in hand. Your beam widened as you walked out, strolling back home as you sipped your coffee.

Remus had invited you to a poetry reading. A poetry reading.

Your cheeks ached from how hard you were grinning. You drink the last bit of your cappuccino, going to throw it in a bin on the street. That’s when you caught sight of something scrawled in black ink on the side of the cup.

There was a heart next to your name, and a number below it. Call me, pretty girl, it said in brackets.

You skipped all the way home.