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faun-the-fawn77 · 3 days

Text

"𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃"

Genre: SMUT

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: oral(m! receiving), creampie, breeding, mentions of having kids, clit play, overstimulation, squirting, brief fingering, whipped!Lucifer, Lucifer being a sweetheart, reader is horny 25/8

Desc: A one night stand is a one night stand... right? What happens when Lucifer keeps going back to the same fallen angel just for a taste of Heaven? Oh no... seems the Devil has caught feelings once again!

Note: Lucifer smut;) like there isn't enough already. Requests are open now! This is third and final fic of the votes. Don't worry to those who voted for others! I will be working on all those fics:) Next after this one is a part two to "Lips Of An Angel". Just have to...find a song that will match the part two:)

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Another shitty day in Hell. Sinners were offing each other in the streets of the Pride Ring. The angelic building in the middle of the city shone brightly in the red light, the clock on each side had big letters reading ‘36 DAYS’.

Lucifer, King of Hell himself, wandered the streets of Cannibal town, a mission in his mind. He tried to avoid Rosie ‘cause she’s a talker and would only make him late for where he needed to go after getting the thing he came to this lovely town for. He scoured the shops looking for the one thing that stood out to him last time he was here. It reminded him so much of Her. Of the one person he couldn’t get out of his mind.

“Well, hello to our dear king! How are you on this hellish evening?” Lucifer growled lowly at the sound of that radio prick's voice. He turned to the red deer demon and pulled him down by his collar.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your theatrics today. I have places to be and things to get and I don’t need some lowlife sinner messing that up for me,” Lucifer let go of the demon’s coat and strided off to the jewelry shop he spotted out of the corner of his eye, waving behind to the overlord, “Hope you have a bad day!”

Later that evening, Lucifer turned up at his daughter’s hotel. He always came under the guise of seeing his daughter but everyone knew he came for one particular guest of his daughters. Knocking on the giant doors, he waited ‘till either his daughter or the deer prick opened up.

The doors opened a few minutes later and Lucifer was greeted by, thankfully, his daughter’s voice, “Oh! Back again, dad? But I jus-”

“Charlie! You know I’m always here to see you! I just missed you so much that I couldn’t wait a few days!” Lucifer walked in and hugged his daughter. Vaggie stood off to the side, peering out the door for any dangers.

Charlie gasped before smiling nervously and patted her dad’s back. She pulled away and held him by the shoulders.

“Dad, you know I love when you visit. We all do! But uh- Everyone, especially Angel, has noticed that you only come here for a certain someone…” Charlie trailed off. Lucifer stood there silently and blinked slowly, almost frog-like.

“Ah…” He didn’t know what to say. Was he that obvious? The weight in his suit pocket seemed to weigh down on him immensely. He gripped the apple on his cane tightly.

“Is she here?” Charlie smiled. She wanted her dad to be happy. After her mom had left them, her dad was in a slump. She checked up on him as much as she could but she could tell he wasn’t getting any better. After finding Y/N, a fallen angel just like her father, Charlie brought her with to her family home in hopes of them becoming friends. After that, Lucifer has been stopping by more than he used to. Charlie thought it was because they were good friends but after what Angel told the group last time…Charlie knew her father had fallen once again and this time harder than he fell for Lilith.

“She’s here. Last I spoke with her, she was working on a secret project. She wouldn’t tell me what it was.” Lucifer looked about ready to bounce off the walls of the hotel lobby.

“Well I’ll just uh- yeah…” Lucifer ran off towards the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse at the top of the hotel. He rocked on his heels as the lift made its way up to the top. He stuck his clawed left hand into his suit pocket and clutched the velvet box.

“Well, hello there, handsome.” Y/N’s voice was like smooth silk. It calmed Lucifer’s nerves down, the breath stuck in his throat was exhaled as he stepped foot into his…friend’s penthouse. He wouldn’t call her friend with the amount of times they’ve gotten intimate but, he didn’t know what else to call it.

“Hello, darling. How is your night going?” Lucifer plopped a seat on the sofa in her living room. He watched as she rounded the island in her kitchen, holding a cup of coffee and wearing nothing but a white silk robe.

“I’m doing wonderfully, Luci. What prompted the visit?” She folded her legs as she sat on the other end of the sofa. Lucifer cleared his throat and shifted his legs. The robe was a bit see-through which made her breasts very noticeable to him.

“Just wanted to see you…” Y/N smiled cheekily. She knew what she was doing to him. With the way she sat to what she was wearing, Lucifer couldn’t believe he had this much self-control to not jump on her.

“Is that all?” Lucifer gulped. He shifted in his seat once again and gazed away from Y/N’s intense stare. Her eyes darkened with lust as she continued to stare right at him.

“What do you actually want, Luci?” She placed her mug down, sliding her bottom over and closer to her partner. She watched him cross his legs and grip the arm of the sofa.

“Come on, Luci. Tell me what you desire~” She ran a hand up his arm and over his chest. Lucifer watched with bated breath as she undid his bowtie and slipped the first few buttons of his shirt undone. Her fingers snuck under the shirt and touched all over his pale chest.

“Luciiii~” Lucifer felt the last thin thread snap at the tone of her voice. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down onto the couch. He roughly kissed her and made sure to slide his forked tongue between her lips and into her mouth. He heard her moan and felt her hands run up his arms and into his hair.

Lucifer pulled away with a dazed look in his red eyes. He was straddling her lap, his erection pushing painfully against his suit pants.

“Need help with that?” Lucifer sat back as Y/N leaned over him, running her hands from his hair, down his semi-exposed chest, and to his tightened pants. She undid his black belt and slipped it from his pants. She popped the button on his pants and unzipped the zipper.

“Please…” Lucifer whined. Y/N looked up at him and smirked. She made sure to go slow when she pulled his pants down his legs. Her knees hit the carpeted floor when his pants did. Her soft hands slid from his ankles and all the way up to his boxers elastic.

“Be patient, Luci.”

“God, I’m addicted…” Lucifer mumbled. He was very addicted to her. To all the things she does to him both in and out of the sheets.

Y/N hummed and brought her mouth closer towards his erection. Her breath fanned across the dampened tip and she quickly tore through his duck-printed boxers. The shreds of fabric fell to the carpet.

“Oh, Luci…” She licked a stripe up from his balls to tip. Lucifer moaned loudly and rushed to cover his mouth. Y/N laughed, pulling his hand from his mouth.

“You can be as loud as you want, my dear. No one can hear us.” With that, she took the tip of his dick into her hot mouth. Lucifer gripped the sofa, tearing streaks into it with his claws. His breathing became laboured as Y/N made work on his cock. She swirled her tongue around the tip, her hand coming up and wrapping around the base. She wanted to antagonise him. Make him want her.

“Oh my Lord, please! Please do something…” Lucifer could feel his patience run thin. Patience was definitely not one of his virtues, if he had any left.

Y/N hummed. She removed her hand and placed both of them on his thighs, bracing herself, before taking him whole.

“OH, Y/N/N! Plea~ah,” Lucifer moaned. He bucked his hips up into her mouth and down her throat. He wanted to feel guilty but he was so into the pleasure that she was giving him. Her nails dug into his thighs, her moans vibrated down his length which caused him to gag her once again.

“I-I’m sorry! You just-hah-you just are so good,” Lucifer praised. She may have been an angel but by God was her mouth sinful.

Ohh, girl, let’s take it slow

So as for you, well, you know where to go

I wanna take my love and hate you ‘til the end

It’s not like you to turn away

From all the bullshit I can’t take

It’s not like me to walk away

It’s been a few days since Lucifer has been intimate with his partner. His friends with benefits as he has learned from Angel Dust. He was scared. Every time they’ve gotten intimate, Lucifer was on the verge of telling her he loves her. It took all it had in him to not shout it when he came.

“Oh, Rosie. I don’t know what to do!” Lucifer plonked his head on the table face first. His glass of whiskey shook at the action.

Rosie, the one who made sure the cannibals in her town stayed in check, patted her king on his head. She smiled down at the fallen angel and watched as he mumbled to himself.

“Honey, if you don’t tell her how you feel, then how is she supposed to know you feel this way? What if someone else sweeps her off her feet? She is nothing like that ex of yours, ya know.” Lucifer grumbled. He knew she wasn’t like Lilith. Lilith was a cold-hearted bitch who cared about no one but herself.

“I’m trying to take it slow.”

“Is having a one night stand and then becoming friends with benefits ‘taking it slow’?” Lucifer glared at the smiling cannibal. She was right and he knew it. He sighed and dug into his pocket. He brought out the velvet box and slid it over to his friend.

“I wanted to give her this when I confessed… I don’t know if it’s too much…” Rosie gently took the box and opened it. She gasped when she saw what it was.

“Lucifer! This is gorgeous! I’m sure she’ll love it, honey.” Lucifer felt his shoulders sag with relief. The piece in the velvet box was beautiful. It was a silver ring detailed with leaves. Deer antlers were what held the moss agate stone in the middle. He learned from Husk and Angel that she only wore silver jewellery and that her favourite stone was moss agate. It may not have been the most expensive but he wanted it to come from the heart and not from his wealth.

“I know she will. I just…I hate how much I love her. It’s suffocating with her not knowing.” Lucifer was still scared. Scared that she’d walk away and leave everything they’ve built behind. Just like Lilith. He knew it wasn’t like Y/N to turn away. He knew because he’d attend some of those silly exercises his daughter hosted.

“Tell her. Let her know and don’t bullshit your way outta this.” Rosie slid the ring back to Lucifer. She watched as he breathed in deeply, pocketed the box, and made his way to the door to her shop.

“I won’t walk away from her. Not like I did to Lilith.” With that, Lucifer exited the shop and made his way to the hotel.

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Yeah

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite king! How are you today, my dear?” Lucifer had arrived at Y/N’s place in seconds flat after leaving Rosies. He had spider lilies in one hand and a stuffed black cat in the other. Both being her favourite things she’s seen in Hell.

“Good! I just wanted to have a chat with you. Hangout for a bit after all the paperwork I did this morning.” Lucifer watched her eyes light up at the sight of the flowers and stuffie. She grabbed them from his hands and raced to get the flowers in some water. She placed the stuffed cat on her loveseat near her bookshelf.

Lucifer stepped out of the lift and slowly walked towards the kitchen of her penthouse. Y/N was humming as she cut the bottoms of the flowers and placed them in the black vase. Her fingers were nimble and held the flowers delicately to ensure they didn't get damaged.

“What did you want to talk about, sweetheart?” Lucifer took a seat at the island, snatching an apple from the basket of fruit in the centre.

“Nothing important… uhm, how was your day?” Lucifer was nervous. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t drop the L-bomb on her. She was too important to him to lose.

“It was amazing! Your daughter is such a sweetie! She’s helped me adjust to life in Hell wonderfully. I wish I could pay her back somehow…” Lucifer looked at the angel. This angel was of pure heart and faith. He knew Y/N was still struggling with being in Hell. He knew because he could see the way she hid behind his daughter when they went out or when she would quote from the bible only to grow embarrassed when the others looked at her in confusion.

“She is a sweetie, isn’t she? I’m glad you’re adjusting to Hell. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable while you’re here.” Lucifer bit into the apple. Y/N watched as the juice dripped from his chin. She licked her lips, walking towards the island and having a seat on the stool near Lucifer.

Lucifer continued to munch on the apple, not noticing Y/N’s hand creeping towards his thigh. When she made contact, Lucifer jumped and choked on a bit of the sweet fruit.

“Surely you didn’t come here just to talk.” Lucifer felt flushed. He cleared his throat and set the apple core down.

“I promise it was only just to talk. I know I said it was nothing important but-”

“Shh, Luci. I can see how tense your shoulders are. Why don’t I-”

Lucifer stood up abruptly causing Y/N’s hand to fall from his lap. He stepped back and sucked in a breath. He reached into his pocket and produced the black velvet box for Y/N to see. He could see the confusion in her eyes.

“Y/N, I love you. I love you so much that the thought of you not knowing was suffocating me. I know it only started out as us being friends and delving into a one night stand that then turned us into friends with benefits. After a while, it wasn’t just the sex for me. I wanted all of you. Heart, body, mind, and soul. I wanted to feel what it was like for you to love me for me and not for my body. I hope this doesn’t scare you off but I wanted you to know how I feel about you.” Lucifer finished up and placed the small box in front of her. He was sweating profusely and his hands gripped the apple on his cane tightly. He watched as Y/N lifted the box up gently and opened it. Her eyes glittered and he swore he saw tears in her eyes.

“Luci…” Her breath was airy. Like he took her breath away.

“Luci, thank you. No one has done this much for me since I’ve been created. You don’t have to be scared ‘cause I love you just as much.” Lucifer could cry. She felt the same! He smiled brightly and bounded up to the tall angel and hugged her tightly.

“Oh my Hell! I could bounce off these walls in happiness! Oh, I love you so much, my angel!” Lucifer could feel the vibrations of her laugh. She hugged him back just as tightly, the ring he gave her glittering on her right hand.

“Thank you for accepting me, Y/N/N,” Lucifer mumbled into her breasts. He felt her fingers run through his golden locks as she hummed.

“No need to thank me, honey. I love you so very much.”

…

“Let’s head to the bedroom. I need to get this energy out~”

And I know when it’s getting rough

All the times we spend

Trying to make this love something better than

Just making up again

It’s not like you to turn away

All the bullshit I can’t take

Just when I think I can walk away

They’ve only had a few fights but they were only about Lucifer's work. He was the king and every time he went to sign off on a meeting paper to say he wouldn’t be able to make it, Y/N scolded him and told him he needed to go or the residents of the seven rings of hell won’t take him seriously anymore.

She was right. Every time they went out on a date, Lucifer could hear the whispers and snickering. He was gone for years when Lilith left and everyone had assumed that he was gone. Now that he’s back and appearing more in the public eye, the sinners in Pride casted snide remarks his way.

“Honey, a letter just came in from Ozzie. Have you always had a family dinner every month with the seven sins and Charlie?” Lucifer paled at the mention of the dinner. He hasn’t been to one since Lilith left him. Charlie had tried to get him to go a couple times only for him to turn her down and go back to wallowing in his sadness.

“Uh- yes… yes we do. Ozzie was the one that actually wanted it to happen.” Lucifer bounced his knee nervously. Y/N hummed and made his way into the study and up to his desk. She set down the letter and looked down at him.

“How about we go? Ozzie seems to want to meet me and to introduce us to that little imp of his. This’ll be good for you! We can see family and maybe we could invite the residents of the hotel? Have the sins come from their rings and hang out in Pride?” Y/N has been encouraging him to get back into contact with his family since they’ve gotten together. Seemed she was very family oriented. I mean, she had always had him finish inside her whenever they were intimate. He had a sense that she wanted kids but she hasn’t said anything to him yet.

“Fine. How about you write the letter back to Ozzie. Have him send out a message to the others that we’ll be having the dinner at our place. I’ll fly over to the hotel and inform Charlie.” Y/N squeaked and pulled a blank paper from her lover’s pile of papers on the desk. She produced a quill with the snap of her fingers and wrote out the letter. Lucifer was happy that she was excited to meet his family. Every time they had the petty arguments about his work and paperwork, she would ignore him ‘til she got too horny and then seduced him into bed. He didn’t want this love to be about fighting and making up with sex. He wanted it to be more than that,

“I told him that we’ll have the dinner this Friday! Make sure you mention to Charlie that I invited everyone from the hotel to be there!” Lucifer smiled as she leaned down to kiss his rosy cheek. She bounced off to who-knows-where while Lucifer sat back in his desk chair and sighed. He had to talk to her.

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to

The things you do

When you’re going down on me

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Yeah

When you’re loving me

“Oh fuck! Lucifer, right there!” The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping and ragged breathing. Lucifer was pounding mercilessly into his lover’s pussy. He watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head as his dick hit just the right spot inside her. Her moans echoed off the walls, her hands clenching the silk sheets beneath her.

“Come on, baby. You have one more in you, don’t ya?” Lucifer groaned out into her ear. His stomach tightened when he felt her clench at his words. He smirked and brought a clawed hand to her pussy. His pointer and middle finger rubbing circles on her clit. She moaned loudly at the contact before she started to shake as her orgasm crashed through her. Juices squirted from her dripping pussy and coated his lower abdomen and thighs.

“Oh fucking hell…” Lucifer moaned. His dick throbbed and he finally came into her clenching hole. His seed spilled out while he was still in her and when he pulled out he made sure to take his fingers, scoop up the mess, and push it back into her. Y/N moaned and tried to push his hand away only for him to grab it and shush her.

“It’s okay, honey. Just wanna make sure it takes…” Lucifer held still inside of her and when she calmed her breathing down, he made ‘come hither’ motions. She squeaked out and tried to squirm away only for Lucifer to pin her down.

“One more. One more time, sweetheart. I need to make sure it takes,” Lucifer whispered. He leaned up and over her, pulling his fingers from her pussy and replacing it with his hardened dick. He saw her eyes tear up from overstimulation. He kissed her lips, holding onto her hips and slowly drove his hips into hers.

“That’s it, sweetie. You can take it. I got you.” Lucifer whispered sweet nothings into her ear as he began to pick up his pace. His grip tightened on her hips when her pussy clenched around him. He moaned out, dropping his head onto her breasts.

“I’m c-close, Luci! Please!” Lucifer thrusted his hips faster, making sure to hit the spot that made her see stars. Her eyes clenched shut and her hips moved to meet his hips. Her moans grew louder as her orgasm grew closer.

“Oh, Hell…” Lucifer almost whined when Y/N tightened around his length, her moans loud as she shuddered. Her orgasm hit her full force, her pussy squirting out juices once again. Lucifer sped up until he finally released another load into her abused hole.

“I want you to be a mama. Charlie already loves you, why not have another?” Lucifer mumbled. He dropped down on top of her, his dick still in her to keep his load inside to make sure it takes.

Y/N ran her fingers through his messy hair and smiled down at him. He was such a softie for kids. Whenever they would visit the other rings, Y/N made sure they at least went to the circuses that were held that day to support the kids.

“I love you, Luci.”

Lucifer snuggled into her more and murmured out tiredly, “I love you most.”

How can I make it through

All the things you do

There’s just gotta be more to you and me

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to you

Addicted to you

WOOOO SECOND LUCI FIC!!! Hope I did him justice:')

Enjoy!!

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randomdragonfires · 23 hours

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Time Can't Stop Me Quite Like You Did | Chapter 1

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

Chapter 1 | When We Were Young

SUMMARY | She leans on the doorway and watches as Aemond Targaryen takes a lengthy drag out of his cigarette - tiny embers of the burning tip being the only light in all the space around him. He is withdrawn and lost in his own thoughts, always - just as she knows him to be.

It is at this moment that it strikes her.

It's him that she's in love with. It's always been him.

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst with a Happy Ending; Grooming; Attempted Rape/Non-Con; Blood and Injury; Violence

WORD COUNT | 6.9k

Check out the lovely artwork my friend @azperja has made for this fic, HERE!

They’ve known each other a long time; almost their whole lives. It's hard for her to pinpoint the exact moment that she fell in love with him in the past many years.

But if she has to say it, the story would go something like this.

[VISENYA TARGARYEN MEMORIAL PARK, RED KEEP TOWN]

AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-SEVEN, Alicent Hightower was intimately familiar with the feeling of loneliness.

Even in the midst of a bustling crowd, she often found solace only in the company of the voices in her head. At nineteen, she had an affair with her best friend's father, and at twenty, she became his wife. Over the years, she has given birth to four children whom she loves with all that she has — yet her marriage has continuously held her back, fueling her self-destructive tendencies.

She couldn't entirely blame Viserys, though part of her did. It was hard to expect much from a marriage with a man still emotionally tied to a wife who has been dead for almost a decade.

Loneliness pervaded every waking moment of her life.

Just then, she caught sight of Daeron, who smiled at her from his spot a few steps away, sitting on a blanket beneath the shade of a tree. The gap from his missing tooth showed when he giggled at her, and she couldn’t help but smile in that solemn, upside down way that she always did. Aemond, snuggled at her side, sought comfort from the surrounding noise in her arms. She held him tightly, realizing that perhaps she wasn't as alone as she had thought.

She wasn't entirely certain if she liked her children, but she loved them deeply. Their presence alleviated her loneliness, and she knew she would cherish them fiercely for the rest of her life. As the mild afternoon sun kissed her face, she eagerly anticipated the return of her older children - Aegon and Helaena - from school. Their chatter and presence provided her with a reason to keep going.

While Aemond nestled closer to her, less welcoming to other children compared to Daeron, Alicent noticed her youngest playing with a little girl of the same age. Witnessing the joy on her son's face as he made a friend warmed her heart, although she couldn't recall the last time she had a friend of her own.

She had one friend, and then she lost her when she married said friend's father.

But she won’t think about that.

Suppressing the memory, she resolved to find out who her son's new friend was. In the exclusive community of Red Keep Town, where most of the Westerosi elite lived, privacy was paramount and everyone seemed to know of each other. News traveled swiftly, yet Alicent always seemed to be the last to know anything.

A woman approached her, and Alicent's lips curved into a smile as she recognized her. "Jeyne!" She murmured, rising to her feet before she could even comprehend her actions. "How many years has it been? Are you and Jasper back in King's Landing?"

Jeyne Wylde, a warm woman with a maternal aura, enveloped Alicent in a friendly embrace, rekindling an acquaintance from years ago. "Alicent Hightower, as I live and breathe! Just as beautiful as the last time I saw you!"

They kissed each other's cheeks before she continued. "Didn't Viserys tell you? Jasper has a seat on the board now! We're here permanently this time! We've refurbished Jasper's grandfather's home here, the Rain House!"

Didn't Viserys tell you? No, Viserys had not told her; he never does.

Clutching Aemond closer, she forced the reminder of her isolation to the back of her mind. Each time her husband dismissed her inquiries or refused to engage with her, it felt like a dagger twisting deeper into her heart.

"And who is this little gentleman here? Such a well-behaved boy!" Jeyne cooed as Aemond nestled into Alicent's neck, his silver hair tickling her. "My third. A bit shy," she motioned toward where Daeron sat with the babysitter, playing with another child. "That's Daeron, my youngest."

Jeyne laughed at Aemond's shyness, her joyful expression lighting up the world around her like she always did. "Oh, how wonderful! He's already made friends with my daughter!"

A friend. Her son had found a companion, and she couldn't help but find it amusing that it was the youngest Wylde daughter, whose mother had once provided her with a sense of camaraderie before her marriage.

Somehow, it all came full circle.

Daeron called out to her, beckoning her to meet the little girl, and both Jeyne and Alicent hastened to join their children under the shade, surrounded by scattered toys. Aemond, still clinging to his mother's neck, refused to let go and join them - but he watched with great interest.

As the children smiled at her, Alicent's heart warmed in a way she didn't think possible. Daeron's infectious smile, the babbles of the infants, and Jeyne Wylde's cheerful chatter momentarily pulled her away from her inner turmoil. As the little Wylde girl giggled at Daeron's attempt to balance a dried leaf on his nose, Alicent felt a sense of companionship, dispelling her loneliness, at least for a while.

Years later, when Jeyne Wylde begged her to keep an eye out for her child before she died, Alicent Hightower promised with her whole heart that she would.

How could she not do it for her only friend?

[SIX YEARS LATER; ALYSANNE TARGARYEN PREPARATORY SCHOOL]

IN THE BUSTLING HALLS OF THE PRIVATE TOWN'S only high-profile school, where fights between kids were as common as homework assignments, a scene was brewing.

Daeron Targaryen, a spirited boy with an unruly mop of silver hair and bright violet eyes, found himself caught in an unexpected skirmish with his nephew Luke Velaryon, a mischievous troublemaker known for his penchant for causing chaos.

It was a crisp autumn afternoon when the incident unfolded. She was engrossed in a book under the shade of an oak tree when she felt a sharp yank on her pigtails. Daeron was playing football with some of his other friends when it happened, and he was quick to angrily run over to her, ready to retaliate. The fiery tug sent a jolt of pain through her scalp, and her eyes began to water - causing her to whirl around and notice Daeron, running towards her to help, with fury blazing in his eyes.

He had always fancied himself a bit of a hero.

They were only eight years old - too young to know better. Lucky for him, she never saw him as any less.

Daeron lunged at Luke, delivering a swift punch to the Strong boy's nose. A surprised cry escaped Luke's lips, and he made sure to lunge at Daeron - pushing him down onto the ground. The warmth of the newly formed bruise and the blood that now coated the skin above his eye made him want to get another punch in. But before the altercation could escalate further, Principal Lyonel Strong arrived on the scene, flanked by stern-faced staff members.

With practiced efficiency, the adults separated the brawling little ones, and Luke was reluctantly pulled away, a triumphant smirk still playing on his lips. Daeron's face bore an unusual darkness, a stark contrast to the innocence expected of a child. He muttered almost inaudibly, with bitterness bleeding through each word.

"Of course the Strong boy's grandfather helped him out."

She had never seen him look so angry before. It scared her more than the fading pain in her head did. She never knew what to do when the Targaryen boys found their Velaryon nephews - they always fought, and she was always left feeling scared.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra Targaryen and Alicent Hightower were summoned to the school to address the unruly behavior of their children. Daeron sat on a bench outside the principal's office, nursing a sore nose that throbbed with pain. He longed to visit the school nurse, but he knew he had to wait until the adults finished their heated discussion. Luke was there right now as well, and he'd rather wait for him to finish than be in his presence. She walked up to him, hands clasped behind her back, and he smiled, the red blood looking very out of place on his usually happy face.

She loved it when he smiled.

Her eyes brimmed with empathy as she extended her hand - revealing colorful band-aids, some of them crushed in her hold. "I'm sorry he hit you," she whispered softly, concern etched across her innocent, young features. "Does it hurt?"

Daeron, with the facade of an eight-year-old trying to look tough, puffed out his chest and said, "No." But as he tried to hide the wince that briefly flickered across his face, it was clear that the pain was real.

With a shy smile, she held out the band-aids, each one boasting bright colors. "You can pick whichever you like!"

After a moment's consideration, Daeron chose a bright blue band-aid adorned with pink hearts. The other boys would tease him for it for sure, but he didn't care. He’s always loved blue.

In the days that followed, many of their classmates teased Daeron mercilessly for his seemingly incongruous band-aid choice. Yet, he never removed it, always keeping it on where she could see.

His forever messy hair always got stuck to it sometimes, and it peeled off and almost fell to the ground before he stuck it back. But he never threw it away, even when the teasing continued tirelessly. And until his wound healed, he always came to play with her with her band aid on and a huge, mischievous grin on his face - a smile so infectious, she couldn't help but smile back.

She knew right then.

That’s when she fell in love with him.

[PRESENT DAY; MAEGOR’S HOLDFAST, THE TARGARYEN RESIDENCE]

THE DINING ROOM, once vibrant with the chatter and laughter of the Targaryen children, has now fallen into comparative stillness and silence. The words in her book remain incomprehensible, slipping through her thoughts like the ghosts of better days. The wind toys with the loose pages of her book, causing her to bite down on the end of her highlighter in frustration. Her gaze drifts to the empty chairs surrounding the table, each one a silent testament to the void left by the absent older Targaryen siblings. She never knew Rhaenyra, but the Hightower children, however...

Aegon, the adventurous one, has forsaken the comforts of his privileged upbringing to pursue his passions as a photographer. He started in fashion, capturing the glitz and glamor of the Westerosi fashion scene for many renowned brands. He’s dated and photographed many popular models for the covers of The Kingslander and Dragon Eye. Now, he is out of the country, photographing the ancient ruins of Sarnor alongside his archaeologist girlfriend, Sara Snow.

She can't help but smile at his audacity and recklessness. It was such an Aegon thing to do - to embark on a globe-trotting adventure with someone he had known for only three months, just for the thrill of it. But she'd met Sara once, and she seemed like the girl who’d keep someone like Aegon engaged and on his toes - which is a feat on its own, given how much of a wavering mind she knows him to have.

Helaena had departed for the University of Oldtown two years ago to pursue her passions in microbiology. She never relied on her family's influence to secure her place there, her determination shining through from the beginning. She remembered Helaena watching them all from the sidelines while they played, bug in hand as she spoke to it; she believed they'd speak back when they were younger. Her passion translated fluidly to theoretical learning - next thing she knows, she's at the top of her class.

Aemond - now in his final year of school - was reserved but had made an effort to join in, always. However, that had changed forever after the fateful accident - the one that had cost him his eye. The tragedy had unfolded during a heated family football game, a quarrel escalating into a devastating brawl. Aemond had hurled the ball at Luke's head, and in response, Luke had grabbed the first thing he could find - a shard of broken glass, forever altering Aemond's life. The incident had been the breaking point in the already strained relationship between the two branches of the Targaryen family.

She still vividly remembered Aemond curled up on the floor, howling in pain. It had terrified her, and she could not sleep for days until she got to visit him. Weeks later, the doctors had prescribed a prosthetic eye, and it had taken her breath away - the contrast of the natural violet and the striking blue prosthetic was a constant reminder. She found it striking, but she knows better than to mention it to him. Aemond had grown weary of discussing his injury, and his entire demeanor has shifted, allowing little patience for anyone around him. He had gradually distanced himself from the crowd and only bothered when his mother forced him to.

The dining table, once a hub of laughter and joy, had slowly succumbed to the passage of time. Now, it was just her and Daeron, attempting to make headway with the biology assignment before them. Daeron, ever the dependable and witty presence, tried to keep the atmosphere light, just as he had in their childhood.

She sighs, her thoughts drifting back to a time when Aegon would crack ridiculous jokes that left her in fits of laughter. Helaena, with her fascination for beetles, would have a distant look in her eyes while Aemond sipped on juice, offering shy, subtle smiles. Daeron, the master of wit, would keep the banter flowing, ensuring the fun never ceased. Those were the days when Maegor's Holdfast had echoed with life and character, exactly as Alicent had once admitted to cherishing.

But now, the echoes have faded, replaced by the hollow silence that surrounded her, a gaping hole filled only by Daeron's chatter. She glances at him and manages a small grin. It seems like all she could manage around him are quiet words and shy smiles. He disarms her and thinks her awkwardness is endearing, and yet he remains completely ignorant of the fact that he is the one causing it.

She loved him. Slowly but surely, over the years, she had fallen in love with him.

Every one of his easy smiles have melted her heart, and he never even had to try. It was in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed; the warmth of his hand enveloping hers on chilly evenings, and the way he listened intently to her stories as if each word she uttered held the secrets of the universe. Her heart would skip a beat when he entered a room, and she couldn't help but smile when his name appeared on her phone.

It was in the quiet moments when their eyes meet, and the world fades away, leaving only the two of them in a world of their own. She loved him when they did their first class project together, when he held her hand through her mother’s funeral, and when she slept over in his room for two weeks after the burial - her father needed time to recuperate from being a man expecting another son with his wife to becoming a widower with a daughter that he had to raise alone.

She loved him through it all. It was constant, a calm wave that never dissipated. It grew, and grew, and grew.

But she is afraid. Afraid of jeopardizing the friendship they have meticulously built together. Afraid of the uncertainty that comes with letting the boy who illuminated her world know that she loves him more than anyone else around him. Afraid of being rejected and left behind by him. So, for now, she cherishes every stolen glance, every shared laugh, and every moment they spend together, hoping that someday, Daeron Targaryen might see the way she has grown to love him - slowly but surely. Normally, she would thank the Seven for giving her time alone with him, but today, she is agitated.

If anything, she was devastated - how could she not be when the boy she loved for years was going on and on about someone else?

“I asked Floris Baratheon out, and she said yes!” She's been listening to him go on and on about the third Baratheon sister - a senior that was older than them both by a year, same year as Aemond - for months. Ever since she moved to King's Landing, Daeron had been absolutely smitten with her. He looked at Floris the way she wished he'd look at her, and her gut twisted each time she heard him gush about her.

What did Floris Baratheon have that she did not? What about her did he like so much that she had him captivated in just a few months?

As he continued to talk about Floris, she feels herself being sidelined - as she did often these days. Their everyday conversations are now filled with stories of Floris's adventures and their shared interests. She feels discarded, but she chooses not to say much. She could not risk it, after all.

She picks up the words pretty, smart, and absolutely kickass and she wants to retch. Or hack her pretty little head off. Or empty a bucket of pig's blood on her.

She’s going through a horror movie phase.

It’s not nice of her, but she cannot help it - she’s loved him for too long to be okay with watching him slip away from her like water between her fingers. She comes out of her reverie when she notices the time and she absentmindedly says, “I’ll see you Sunday afternoon, then.” She swings her backpack over her shoulder and loosens the straps a bit before she takes a step, only to have her heart broken by what he would say next.

“Yeah, hey… about that,” he interjects, and the tone of it has her scared.

“What?” Her voice wobbles slightly, and she hopes it does not show.

“I told you, my date with Floris is on Sunday night…”

“Sunday night… But that’s…” She rubs a hand over her mouth, trying to make sense of how he hadn’t even bothered asking her if she was alright with it. Sunday lunch at the Targaryen’s place, followed by pancakes at Chataya’s for dinner was their weekly tradition - one among many - one that they hadn’t strayed away from, ever.

It’s only a silly dinner , she tells herself. It’s just a silly girl going out with her silly blind best friend and having silly breakfast pancakes for dinner .

But it’s not. It’s more, more, more.

“Pancakes, I know. Sorry. She was available only then - her parents are taking her out this weekend so…”

He puts a hand on the back of his neck - a nervous tell, she knows all his tells - as he tries to reason with her and justify breaking a six-year-old tradition for a girl he fancies. She bites the inside of her lip, trying not to let her frustrations show.

“It’s… alright. I can still do lunch on that day. We still have your birthday night next.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to –”

“It’s fine.”

Her heart breaks at how detached the conversation sounds. They’ve not even gone on their first date yet, and somehow he’s already pulling away from her. “Don’t be like that, come on.” She wants to fume, shake some sense into him and make him see how he’s hurting her.

“I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“Thanks so much. I owe you, big. I swear I’ll make it up to you!” He then smiles, that charming smile that steals a piece of her each time he pulls it off. “Jason Lannister’s been asking about you, apparently. Maybe you should give him a chance. Then we can go on a double date!”

“Sure.” She smiles weakly, and she wonders how clouded he must be by Floris that her sadness seems to completely escape him. It convinces him, and she wonders if she’d believe it herself if she keeps saying it. She tries to salvage what’s left and suggests getting ice cream together. He apologetically declines, saying he’s going to get coffee. The way he scratches his head in his awkwardness is endearing yet depressing at the same time to her.

He hates the smell of coffee, detests the way it tastes. She knows him like the back of her hand, and it's peculiar to her how he thinks she’d believe his lame attempt at a lie. She knows he is going to the cafe because Floris Baratheon would probably be there, and he would want to act like he had no idea and eventually spend time with her. It makes her sick, how eager he seems to have her out of the way.

Is he completely blind to how sad he’s making her feel? How could he be?

She feels a pang of sadness and jealousy but says nothing as she pretends to be fine and packs up her stuff. She’d stay normally - long-dead mother and absent workaholic father making for an empty home, the hollow silence of which she did not prefer. But right now, she cannot bring herself to. Not when she feels the walls closing in on her, on her long-treasured and nurtured feelings, and how it seems to her that the boy causing it all is completely ignorant.

She walks out to the door just as his older brother Aemond walks in. She gulps as she looks straight at his chest, refusing to look up and into his eye - partly because of how they’ve drifted apart over the years, and partly because she worries he’ll notice her misty eyes. Somehow, the idea of Aemond Targaryen seeing her crying makes her physically sick, but she cannot bring herself to move. It makes her uncomfortable, how he is almost catlike and seemingly dead - his chest rises and falls very, very slightly that if she wasn’t so close, she wouldn’t know. She cannot remember the last time she’s been in close proximity with him, given how he’s taken to staying away from almost everyone ever since the loss of his eye. “Everything alright?”

She opens her hands and then clenches them once, twice, thrice and then gulps. She taps her foot on the floor until he moves, possibly frustrated by her. She does not have the patience for him right now.

He murmurs her name in his slow, whispery voice, and she only nods her head from side to side, hoping that it would perhaps cause her the tears pooling in her eyes to dry. She’s so close to him that she can smell him - coffee and cigarettes, both of which Daeron hates. The youngest Targaryen brother smells like lemon and wood, and it also holds a peculiar feel of home - but it doesn’t feel as such right now.

Almost as if he senses her discomfort, he moves away and her foot stops its incessant tapping. She inhales a quick gust of air and stalks forward with all her might, trying not to look like the hot mess that she is in front of him. She sees Aemond’s motorbike - one that he’s very pompously named Vhagar - by the corner of her eye as she goes.

She doesn't notice him as he quietly turns around to watch her walk away.

Her feet have never felt heavier than they do right now on her walk back home. She opens the door to her house, the emptiness of it engulfing her almost immediately as she steps in. Alayne, one of the longtime housemaids, welcomes her while dusting off the shelves.

“Shall I set the table for lunch, miss?” She asks, her words laced with the Essosi accent that has now come to feel like home.

“No, I’m not hungry right now, Alayne. Thanks.”

The maid smiles and she does too. Somehow, she doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

“Are you alright, miss?”

“I will be.”

In her room, she looks at all the Oldtown University posters, stuck onto the surface with precision that only a perfectionist could exhibit. Daeron has them in his room too, stuck on the walls of his room in an identical fashion to hers. They have dreamt of going there together for years.

The idea doesn’t seem as enticing to her right now, not as it did in all this time.

As she gazed at all the merchandise with misty eyes, she wondered if Daeron Targaryen would ever fall in love with her the way she did him. The uncertainty gnawed at her heart, but for now, she clung to the hope that their friendship might someday turn into something more. She falls onto the bed back first, her hands covering her face as she tries to make sense of how they’re drifting apart, despite how much she’s loved him.

What else can she do, anyhow?

SHE LOVES HER TIME AT THE LIBRARY.

It's a quiet, safe place where she can lose herself in her studies. When Daeron joins her, it's even better. He sneaks some candy bars in his backpack, and they hide them under the desks, laughing as she pushes him to work.

Today though, she finds Daeron already seated - but not alone. Her heart sinks as she spots him sitting across from Floris Baratheon, their heads bent close together, laughter heard through the room and mischief in their eyes.

They're deep in conversation, their fingers brushing as they pass a book back and forth. They seem so at ease together, laughing and sharing notes, as if she doesn't even exist. An invisible wall springs up between her and Daeron, and she feels like an intruder in her own world. She hesitates, watching them, a mix of sadness and frustration bubbling up inside her. Finally, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving the library without a word. The tears threaten to spill, but she holds them back, determined not to let anyone see.

She can't help but wonder if she crosses his mind even once. Back home, she settles into her room, textbooks and homework spread out in front of her. But her mind is far from the equations and essays. She can't shake the image of Daeron and Floris together, the sense of exclusion and heavy rejection gnawing at her. The weight of unspoken words hangs in the air, and it feels like her heart has been left behind in that forsaken library corner. She buries herself in her books, pouring her frustration into her assignments, and the hours slip away.

As the evening turns into night, a soft chime signals an incoming text message on her phone. She glances at the screen, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of Daeron's name. Part of her yearns to respond immediately - to pretend like nothing happened. But another part of her, a stubborn one, resists.

Hey. Didn't see you at the library today. You ok?

She stares at the words, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. After a moment's hesitation, she decides to leave him on read, the cursor blinking ominously in the chat box. She knows it's mean not to respond, but it's her way of telling him that she deserves better than being sidelined for someone else, that her feelings are not something to be taken lightly. In the silence of her room, she turns off her phone's notifications and goes to bed, with only her thoughts to keep her company as she slowly learns to go from being the main priority to an afterthought.

Is he thinking of Floris right now? Is he texting her too? Did Floris respond to Daeron? Should she?

Sleep evades her that night.

THE MILD EVENING SUN CASTS WARM, golden rays through the arched windows of her room.

She always cherishes this time of the day when she can escape into her own little world, free from the distractions of campus life. But today is different. Today, she can't escape the feeling of loneliness that gnaws at her since that fateful library encounter.

With a sigh, she picks up her phone and scrolls through her contacts, finally landing on Daeron's name. She misses him terribly, and she can't bear the thought of another lonely evening. She battles with herself for a while, going back and forth between wanting to call him and saving her pride and ignoring him just as he's doing to her. Her finger slips, and she gulps, hearing the phone ring. She wants to cut the call, but the loneliness eats at her, and she really wants to talk to him.

Who else does she have?

The phone rings for what feels like an eternity before he finally picks up.

"Hello?" Daeron's voice sounds distant, distracted.

"Hey," she says, trying to sound cheerful despite her sinking heart. "It's me."

"Hey," he replies, but there is a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in his tone, one that she has never been on the receiving end of until recent times. "Sorry, I've been a bit busy lately. What's up? How have you been?"

Her heart sinks a little further at his distracted response, but she pushes on. "I just wanted to talk, you know? It's been a rough couple of days, and I miss you."

Daeron's voice softens. "I'm sorry I haven't been around as much as I used to be."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not fine. Give me a moment, let me step out."

She starts sharing the events of the past few days, trying to ignore the feeling of unease that has settled in her chest. As she speaks, she can't help but overhear snippets of conversation in the background on Daeron's end of the call. There is another voice - a voice she recognizes all too well.

"Oldtown," Floris Baratheon says, her voice clear and unmistakable. "Dream university?"

Her heart skips a beat, and her grip on the phone tightens. She knows those posters. They are the ones that she helped him put up in his room when they were younger, when they were more than the passing ships that they have become now. The realization hits her like a tidal wave - they are in his room, together.

"Kinda," Daeron replies casually, his voice laced with a warmth that used to be reserved for her. "I put them up a while ago."

Those posters mean so much to the pair of them, and it pricks at her that he never mentioned that they put them up together, or that their shared dream was more than just a weak non-response. Tears well up in her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. Her throat tightens as she listens to them talking, laughter and camaraderie flowing easily between them. It is as though she has been replaced, erased from his life without a second thought.

She can't bear to hear any more. She doesn't want to be the silent witness to their closeness, to the memories they are now creating in his room—the room that used to be hers too. Her voice trembles as she stammers out weak excuses about being tired.

"I should go," she says, her voice barely a whisper.

Daeron's tone shifts, concern creeping into his words. "Are you sure you're okay? You sound upset."

"I'm fine," she lies, her voice breaking. "Just tired. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Without waiting for his response, she ends the call, tears now streaming down her cheeks. She wanted to reach out to him, to seek solace and understanding, but instead, she found herself on the outside looking in, a painful reminder of what used to be.

AEMOND HATES THE SOUND OF HER FEET TAPPING.

He's never been one for much noise, as it quickly gives him a headache. The ache swiftly reaches his scarred eye, leaving him in a foul mood for days.

Despite his dislike for the sound of feet tapping, he doesn't say much when he sits next to her each week for Sunday lunch. His face never betrays his feelings on the matter, as he hopes Daeron's friend, the youngest Wylde, will take the hint. She never does.

Today is no different. Her incessant tapping bothers him to no end, and he wants to press his hand into her knee, or scream at her, or grab her by the shoulders and shake her so hard that she'd see how annoying she is being. However, he doesn't. Bothered as he is, he is always very perceptive. Today, the tension between the almost paradisiacal pair of friends is palpable at best.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

It surprises Aemond that no one seems to have noticed. His mother sits at the table, picking at her fish and salad, while Criston, the bodyguard and the only present father figure he knows, stands near the wall with his hands behind his back. They've both watched her and Daeron grow into what they are today, and somehow, neither of them seems to have picked up on her discomfort. And if they have, they're really good at hiding it - which he wouldn't be surprised by.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The unusual quiet at the table seems to bother his mother, and she tries to break it as best she can. When she needs help with anything - anything at all - she turns to her reliable friend and longtime bodyguard, Criston Cole. He has been more present in their lives than the elusive Targaryen patriarch. So much so, that Aemond sometimes wonders if there's more to their relationship than meets the eye.

He doesn't know how he feels about the possibility, but he does know one thing - his mother smiles wider when she looks at him, and that's all that matters. She doesn't smile often, his mother. She always appears tired and wears an indifferent gaze when Viserys Targaryen is around. Aemond has seen that look and decided long ago that he prefers seeing her smile much more.

"Criston," she begins, her voice light, "you don't have to be so quiet during lunch. It's just us. You can talk."

Criston shifts uncomfortably, clearly not used to speaking while on duty, despite all the years. But after a moment, he smiles.

Aemond watches his mother closely, noticing the warmth in her eyes as she interacts with Cole. It's a warmth he has never seen her extend to their father, Viserys - who is away on business meetings at Dragonstone, no doubt favoring Rhaenyra and acting as though his family here does not exist. Aemond has grown indifferent to his father's absence over the years, appreciating Criston for being there for his mother when Viserys couldn't be. If anything, it has only fueled his fire to be an indispensable part of his father’s company when he’s ready - anything to prove his mettle, and represent his mother and siblings. Anything.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Her annoying feet tapping is never-ending, and he is at the edge of his patience as he grips his fork tightly. He's convinced he'd lodge it in her thigh if she doesn't stop right now-

"Aemond, do you have a date for the school dance?"

If he needed a distraction, this was it. The question of whether he has a date to the dance is one that his mother is very curious about and always reminds him of. He always struggles for an answer. How does he tell his mother that he's broken up with his girlfriend, only to end up sleeping with a woman older than his mother herself? He doesn’t quite know how to justify it to himself.

He’s often wondered what it is about Alys Rivers that attracts him so. He shouldn’t be so bothered, given how the woman has seen him grow up and could be old enough to be his mother. Soon, he’d realized that it was her ability to understand him - most children his age had stayed children, while he’d been forced to grow up when he’d lost his eye. She understood him, his ambitions, his emotions - she got him like nobody else, and complemented his drive. If anything, he admired her.

The sex, he supposes, is a bonus. A very good one at that.

Aegon often jokes about Aemond and the older woman, and that was only after he walked in on them during Aemond’s 18th birthday dinner. Alys has haunting green eyes that pull him to her like a moth to a flame, black hair that he loves pulling on when she gets down on her knees—

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

“Arianne and I are going together.”

“Oh, are you two back together then?”

“No.”

He hasn't asked Arianne. He hasn't asked anyone. He’d rather not go, really.

But he doesn't want to hurt his mother. The lies tumble out of his mouth easily whenever he senses even an inkling of worry in her voice, or in the peculiar raise of her eyebrow, or the way she begins clawing at her cuticles.

Perhaps she knows he doesn't want to speak further about it, or she senses that Daeron and his friend need to be nudged away from their pathetic and obvious awkward rift—but his mother is quick to seamlessly transfer her conversational attempts to the two of them instead.

Alicent continues, "You two will get to go next year, won't you?" She looks at Daeron expectantly. Daeron nods, a hint of excitement in his eyes. "If all goes well, I could be going this year. Floris Baratheon may take me with her. We’ve got a date tonight, actually!"

That’s when Alicent Hightower’s seeking and inquisitive gaze falls on Wylde, and he knows that his mother has figured it all out.

“I thought Sunday nights are pan-”

“Yes, mum. I know. She’s been…” He turns to his friend. It's pathetic to Aemond how she still looks at Daeron like he hung up the sun, even though he's hurting her, “... she’s okay with it. I owe her one!” He smiles widely and engulfs her by the neck with his right elbow as he stands behind her after taking the last bite of his lunch.

She looks like she'd rather fling herself off the balcony than owe him for letting him go out with someone else on their weekend night. Alicent’s neutral and hospitable mask falls for just a moment and her smile falters at the realization - her youngest is so blind that he cannot see how long his friend has been in love with him. Almost as though she can sense the realization in Alicent’s eyes, her feet tapping picks up its pace (he didn’t think it was possible). This time, her left hand is on her knee, and her gold charm bracelet - moons and stars - jingles along with the movement of her foot.

Tap, tap, clink, tap, clink, clink, tap, tap, tap, clink, clink, tap, tap, clink.

The conversation flows on, and lunch eventually comes to an end. As they all prepare to leave the table, Daeron turns to the Wylde girl with a cheerful grin. "Hey, would you mind helping me pick out a shirt for the date?"

Alicent's smile is still in place by the skin of her teeth, but Aemond sees his mother’s discomfort clear as day. She has considered the youngest Wylde one of her own for many years, especially since her mother passed away, and she is certainly not alright with how her own son is hurting the girl more than anyone ever has.

The last he hears of them is the sound of her shoes, tapping away in the distance as they make their way to Daeron’s room, leaving Aemond with a quick moment of pity for the snubbed best friend. He has been largely indifferent to her over the years, but he isn't blind. He sees the way she looks at him, and it weighs on him for a good moment.

Must it hurt to love someone who doesn’t love you back?

The pair of them walk away, and Aemond is left alone with his mother at the table. They eat in mutually appreciated silence as their guardian, friend, and companion watches, his sunglasses sharp against the bridge of his nose, hands tied together onto his front.

When he eventually stands up, Alicent is quick to remind him to pick out a suit so the butler can have it pressed for him. He nods absent-mindedly as his mother walks away. In his haze, he hadn't noticed Wylde come back to the dining table. She murmurs something about forgetting her books and gestures towards the stack she left on the table. He watches as she takes them all in her hands.

He’s not quite sure what pushes him to do so, but he takes hold of her elbow, leaving her obviously confused. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. The unspoken words are left for her to comprehend on her own.

About Daeron. I’m sorry he’s hurt you. I’m sorry he doesn’t love you back.

“What for?” she asks, as though her yearning eyes were not obvious to everyone in the room. She walks away before he can respond, and his feet stay planted on the dining room floor as she leaves once more. It is all he can do to not laugh at her vehement denial.

Soon after, he makes his way to his bedroom too, removing his black leather jacket as his steps pick up speed along the corridors. “What do you think of this one?” he hears Daeron ask as he walks past his room. Over the years, he has been a witness to countless conversations of theirs as he passed by, and in each one, her excitement almost always matches his brother’s.

Today though, it does not.

“Looks good,” she murmurs, and Aemond barely hears the words. Her detached answer tells him all he needs to know and confirms all his suspicions. The poor thing loves his brother, and she’s not doing a thing as he slips away from her.

If it were him, would he stand by and watch too?

SERIES MASTERLIST

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cobaltperun · 1 day

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Genius (5) - Supermassive Black Hole

Cairo Sweet x female (G!P) Reader

Summary: It was such a cliché, a reunion she didn’t expect to ever happen, let alone six years after she last saw you. It was supposed to mean nothing, a bit of nostalgia, maybe a brief catching up while waiting for class, it was supposed to be a small wave of nostalgia, not a tsunami that disrupted her entire life. You were her opposite, and as hard as she tried she couldn’t resist your pull.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 4.3k

-I thought I was a fool for no one, ooh baby, I'm a fool for you-

Why did she push you away when you were kids? She thought that would make her parents love her, that being more like them would make them proud of her, make them pay attention to her. Eleven-year-old Cairo wanted their love so desperately she decided to push away what she had to try and obtain what she might get. Why did that… why did that sound familiar all of a sudden?

But she couldn’t tell you any of that, not because she couldn’t admit it to herself, no, she could, she understood why she did it. She didn’t want to admit it to you. Because, sure, she could tell you the reason, but you might ask for more, and then she might have to tell you that you were on her mind all these years. That she missed you so much, that she wanted to see you. And then what? What realization would she have to face if she gave you the answer you sought? So, she remained silent, masking the apology she wanted to utter with defiance in her eyes.

“This is ridiculous,” you gave up, sighing out of frustration and just walked away. You walked away from her this time, and she felt like an invisible hand was squeezing her heart, threatening to pop it like a balloon.

But she didn’t call out to you, she didn’t say anything, she just watched you go.

~X~

She couldn’t focus that night, not on writing, not on anything Winnie was saying, she was just lost in her own thoughts. None of them made sense, there wasn’t any order, or logic to them, they were random, unorganized, and she hated it.

“What’s on your mind?” Winnie’s voice eventually did reach her, not quite piercing through the chaos of thoughts in her head, but it did reach her.

“Nothing,” she sighed, trying to focus on the girl. “Everything. I don’t know,” it felt like her mind was pulling quotes from dozens of books at the same time, mixing them together and creating a mess she couldn’t make sense of.

Winnie pupped the lollipop out of her mouth with a resounding pop. “Is it Mr. Miller? You’ve spent some time with him now, how’s the seduction going?”

Cairo remained silent. A lingering meaningful gaze here, not moving her hand when he occasionally put his hand on it. Leaning in just a bit closer than necessary when he lit her cigarette. It was a dance, on that felt forbidden, and she could see the shift in his own eyes. He was looking at her, nothing vulgar quite yet, but he was looking.

“It’s. going,” she chose not to share more than that, she started it, she wasn’t a coward, she would finish it.

Winnie remained silent. “You don’t look happy about that. Is it Y/N?”

Winnie was being too perceptive, but Cairo imagined she wasn’t doing a good job hiding it, as she felt the corners of her mouth twisting downward at the mention of you.

“Do you like her?” Winnie persisted, getting up from her spot on Cairo’s bed and moving to sit next to her. “Cairo, if you want her you need to stop what you’re doing with Mr. Miller,” she didn’t even wait for confirmation.

“Weren’t you the one talking about wagyu beef? Older men harvesting virginity and all that?” and now she was telling Cairo to give up on Miller and go to you?

Winnie rolled her eyes. “That was different, that was before I realized you had a thing for biker girls,” Winnie tried to joke, to nudge her and get her to laugh or at least smile. “Okay, one biker girl, the point stands, I you want her, like really want her just go for her. Forget wagyu beef.”

Did she want you? Was that what she wanted to turn your relationship into? And if it didn’t work out where would that leave your friendship? Did the fact that he noticed her more than anyone else ever did really mean so little? Now that everything was moving, when all he likely needed was just the right circumstances?

“Cairo, this is changing you,” Winnie kept talking, trying to stop what she set in motion unknowingly filling Cairo’s head with thoughts that weren’t there before, the thoughts of her first time not being painful, the idea that she could get that with someone older, and now she was trying to take it back.

“It is changing me,” she admitted, and she knew she was changing, she had the idea she now desired, a madman’s love, a love so passionate it could not be contained, a love so strong it would bring her to ruin, a love that would eclipse any other she felt or would ever feel.

Winnie grabbed Cairo’s phone and before Cairo could even register what was going on Winnie had unlocked it. “What are you doing?” Cairo demanded, getting up to go after Winnie as she began pacing around the room.

“Getting Y/N’s number.”

“Stop it,” Cairo demanded, grabbing Winnie’s forearm just as she sent the number to herself.

Winnie’s eyes widened and for a moment Cairo wondered how mad did she have to look to make Winnie look at her like she was now. Worried, and even a bit afraid.

“Don’t you dare call or text her,” she ordered, her voice shaking as she did. Winnie couldn’t contact you, she just couldn’t. She wasn’t allowed to.

“Okay, I won’t,” she relented and Cairo finally let go of her forearm and snatched her phone.

Cairo started all of this. She was seducing her teacher. She was going to experience something, she was going to get her madman’s love.

~X~

Another Monday, another shitty way to start your week with Miller’s damn class.

“Censorship creates a vicious cycle, we’re taught from young age to accept certain norms, the rights and wrongs of society. It’s the death of writer’s ideas, and thus the reader’s ideas as well. It’s taking away the freedom of thought and speech,” he droned on, stopping by Cairo, the back of his hand brushing against her arm.

“They are separate,” you spoke without raising your hand, and he took a few steps back to take a look at you.

“Not to a writer, to a writer the thoughts become words on the page, they are given a form, and not in this context. When we are taught from young age how to think it becomes intricately connected to the way we express ourselves,” he explained his reasoning and you felt Cairo’s eyes on you.

“Thoughts are private, we cannot be held accountable for thinking, it is the absolute freedom that cannot be taken away, precisely because no one can be sure of what we think. Speech is, as you said, a thought that’s given a form, written, spoken, or expressed in another way. It is a right, and a responsibility,” you leaned forward, your hands resting on the desk, open, relaxed, you had no need to move them.

“To conform to the norms of society?” he challenged, and you gave him a hollow laugh, turning away from both him and Cairo for a moment.

You looked back at him, eyes filled with fierce defiance. “Please, if that was the case you’d be teaching a much smaller class. The society is meant to be critically observed, changed in response to injustice,” you stated.

“And thus, censorship should be seen as an issue, because it is used to cover the injustices,” Miller leaned back against the table. “Just think of how many women had to publish their works under a pseudonym, or how often works that even implied anything outside of societal norms had to be edited to conform to those norms.”

“You are equating rights of entire groups with ideals of a bygone era?” you raised an eyebrow, hardly believing what you were hearing.

He raised his hand in defense. “Certainly not, but-“ he paused, collecting his thoughts. “But, censoring of those ideals of the, as you said, miss L/N, bygone era, takes away our ability to judge them for ourselves. To start a conversation.”

“So, your idea is mere discussion?” you held back a laugh.

“Of course,” he had the guts to say after how he’s been acting with Cairo.

“Yet every idea, no matter how pure, taken to an extreme can be twisted, corrupted until the very basics of what made it good no longer apply, and such corruption needs to be removed,” you weren’t backing away, you ignored the looks of the handful of students that got interested in the conversation, you ignored Cairo’s piercing gaze.

“Every? Freedom of speech included?” he asked. “It has been said that one man’s vulgarity is another’s lyric. And it is one of the highest forms of hubris to assume one person gets to decide what it right and wrong and enforce it on others,” he crossed his arms over his chest, shielding himself once more.

“You sure you have the right to speak of that? Teacher?” you bit your tongue, refusing to let your emotions get the better of you.

The tension in the classroom rose to nearly unbearable, his defensive posture, his eyes, filled with surprise at being all but accused, wandering from you to Cairo

The bell rang breaking the tension and making the students get up to leave. You collected your things and stepped outside, sighing as you did so.

“Y/N,” a fairly cute, blonde girl you shared a couple more classes with, Emily, called out to you and quickly caught up with you before you could get out of the class. She held a pencil you let her borrow on Friday in her hand. Oh, you actually forgot about it. “Here, thanks again for letting me borrow it,” she smiled a bit shyly at you and tucked a strand of her hair back.

You smiled back and took the pencil. “Don’t mention it, Emily,” you put the pencil inside your bag.

“We’re heading in the same direction, wanna go together?” the girl offered, and you shrugged, seeing no harm in doing so.

“Sure,” she was nice and you had no reason to be hostile toward her.

~X~

“Keep glaring and you’ll make her combust,” Winnie teased as Cairo glared at the girl as she was walking away from the classroom.

“If only,” she grumbled, annoyed. Who did that girl think she was, taking your attention after what happened in the class.

“Cairo, could you come by after classes?” she heard Miller asking once only her and Winnie could hear him.

Cairo looked inside, to where you just sat and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, I made plans,” she decided, she certainly wasn’t in the mood to play any seduction games.

He looked surprised. “Right, of course,” he stammered and Cairo just nodded her goodbye. The blonde girl was no longer in her line of sight when she turned once again.

“You’re so jealous,” Winnie laughed, and that was the last drop, she made her way outside the school, ignoring Winnie’s protests.

She wasn’t jealous. What did she have to be jealous of? A blonde that met you maybe a month ago? As if that could compare to what you and Cairo had. The key word was had, as her brain cruelly reminded her. You no longer had that. Without thinking much, she dropped her things off at her house and went into the forest to clear her mind.

What were you thinking? Speaking like that in the class? What made you speak up for the first time in Miller’s class and well, that was one way to speak up for the first time. Ideals of a bygone era. She figured she was seduced by them. By Winnie’s talk of older man harvesting virginity. It wasn’t just that though. It all went back to madman’s love, for how mad would someone her age have to be to love in such a way.

Was it the way Miller touched her that made you react? It was just a brush of the back of his hand, intentional, no doubt, as it remained there, but by now she was used to the closeness. They sat side by side on the bench smoking, and it was certainly physically closer than just the back of his hand. But it still, maybe set you off, just like his attempt to hold her hand did last week.

And then, as she walked, as she went deeper into the forest, as she went to the exact same place where the rose bush she found all those years ago grew and was crushed was, as she went to the place she didn’t go to in years, she froze. Again. a rose bush. Again, an old tree fallen over it.

It was happening again, the same image, the same scene, the same outcome, haunting her, repeating again and again and driving her into madness. She had no one this time. Not one person who could drag her away. Alone. Meant to be crushed like the lone rose bush in the forest. Meant to be crushed by the old, by her parents, her teachers, her village, suffocating in a place fit only for ghosts, an unforgiving place that refused to let anyone be different. To be crushed by the place she was abandoned in and the people in it.

Her nails dug into the dirt beneath her, and she just now noticed she dropped to her knees down to the harsh forest floor. Maybe she should just stay there. She felt too weak to get up anyway, too dizzy and numb at the same time, her breathing too erratic, uneven, panicked. Yet all she could focus on was the scene that kept repeating.

~X~

You were finally close to the end of Verne’s book, just another ten or so pages, but you felt sleepy, and the rain softly falling wasn’t helping you stay awake. Your phone suddenly buzzed, breaking your concentration and making you groan as you leaned your head back. Whoever was calling you wasn’t giving up, that was for sure. So, to spare both you and the caller you grabbed your phone, noticed it was a number you didn’t recognize, and picked up.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hey, is Cairo with you?” it took you a moment, but you recognized it was Winnie, her voice laced with worry and clearly on the verge of panic.

You immediately sat up. “No. Why?” you asked, you didn’t have a reason to worry just yet. Maybe she just got too into one of her books.

“I’m at her place, it’s unlocked, her bag is here, but she’s nowhere to be found, and we were supposed to hangout tonight," Winnie told you and you could hear her pacing around.

“Okay, okay, just calm down. Let’s just go and look for her, do you want the forest or the village?” you were grabbing your biker jacket, since it was waterproof, as well as the keys of your house and already heading outside.

“The village, and thanks, I appreciate this,” Winnie said.

“Of course. Call if you find her before me,” you said and when she agreed you hung up and tucked your phone into your pocket and ran into the forest. You had to hurry, it was getting dark, and the rain made the ground slippery, the more it took you to cover the forest the higher the chances of getting injured, or plain and simple lost would be. So, you ran, as carefully as you could through the forest, yelling Cairo’s name.

‘Where are you?’ you shouldn’t have parted the way you did. ‘Why can’t you answer your phone?’ you should have tried harder to get to her. ‘Are you okay?’

“Cairo!” you shouted as loud as you possibly could, your yell getting swallowed by the trees and the rain.

Somehow, for the reason you couldn’t explain, you remembered her sob from all those years ago, you remembered that sound, the reason for her sorrow back then, that tree and the bush of wild roses and you just took off, running in that direction as if somehow drawn to that location.

~X~

Her body trembled, physically she felt cold, but deep down she didn’t feel anything. Her body felt like nothing, like the least important part of her, like it no longer mattered what happened to it. Her mind and soul were what was important, and the rain couldn’t hit those. The loneliness did, however. It froze her mind and soul in a way cold rain and the darkness that slowly consumed everything around her could never accomplish.

She desired a madman’s love, the ruins of it, the decay, she desired to be entirely consumed by it, yet here she was, not only without a madman’s love, but without love in general.

“Cairo!” her mind must have been playing tricks with her, she heard you shouting her name, and that just couldn’t be true. Why would you be there?

“Cairo!” this time it was closer, and her eyes widened as she caught glimpse of you in the distance, just narrowly missing her. Another old tree, just waiting to fall between you two.

“Y/N!” she cried out, calling after you and trying to get up, but her legs had gotten too numb to get up so abruptly and she stumbled, digging her palms into the muddy ground beneath her. There was no way you heard her, you were too far, you just narrowly missed her, she was once again too late to reach out to you.

Same mistakes. Same haunting images. Everything was happening again.

“Cairo,” she heard footsteps, running toward her and raised her hand, seeing you, your hair and face wet from the rain, water dripping from your jacket and relief washing over your expression. “Are you okay?” you ran up to her and without a moment of hesitation grabbed her shoulders, pushing her up slightly and looking her over. “Cairo, hey, hey, answer me!” your gloved fingers moved her hair from her face and she couldn’t take it anymore, she just fell into your arms, hugging you and clinging to you. She took several deep breaths, finally feeling like she could properly breathe.

“How did you know?” she asked, judging by how wet your hair was you were out for a while.

“Winnie called me,” you whispered as you softly rubbed circles on her back. “Give me a second,” you pushed her away for a moment and she felt what little warmth she regained fading away. You took your jacket off and put it over her shoulders.

“Y/N, wait,” she tried to argue, she didn’t want to let you get a cold, but you just pressed a finger over her lips.

“Don’t argue. Can you walk?” you asked as you helped her get back on her feet.

Cairo nodded, this was already enough, you were already doing more than she could have asked for, but even as she began walking back home you kept her close, supporting her and holding up some of her weight as she leaned onto you for support.

And then, just as the two of you got twenty feet away from where Cairo was kneeling, a lightning struck the old tree and both of you flinched as it cracked and fell, right to where you and Cairo just were. You just saved her life, because there was no way she would have moved if you didn’t arrive.

She felt you freezing and she wondered what was going through your mind. Did you realize what would have happened to her if you were even a minute late, and in the way you pulled her closer she felt that you did think of that scenario just now. Of finding her underneath a fallen tree.

~X~

You called Winnie to tell her you found Cairo and that you brought her back home as she was taking a warm shower. You considered leaving, but maybe it wasn’t the best idea to leave Cairo on her own right now, so, you stayed, a towel you borrowed from Cairo hanging from your neck. You needed to change, but you weren’t sure you could go back home and come back here before Cairo was done.

You were waiting in her room and you noticed how much darker it got, less light seeped through the windows than when she was a child. Well, people changed, and you guessed seven years was a long time. As you sat on the chair you brought up from the kitchen and waited you caught sight of a familiar book. ‘Around the World in Eighty Days’ sat on the table next to a book written by Henry Miller, ‘Under the Roofs of Paris’ the duality of those choices didn’t escape you, but you didn’t move, you weren’t about to stoop to Miller’s level and look through Cairo’s stuff.

A few minutes later, she came out, dressed in her pajamas and with a towel around her head. “You should change,” she noticed now that the shower cleared her thoughts a bit. “And take a shower, the rain was dirty,” she said it as if she expected you to do it at her house.

“I will, I just wanted to check if you were okay and I’ll leave,” you told her, already getting up. She looked fine now, but you still looked her over, you didn’t notice anything wrong, any injury or anything that she needed help with.

“Do it here? Please, you were out looking for me, and the rain is falling even harder now,” at least the part about the rain was true, the weather was getting worse. “I’ll find some clothes that fit you,” she promised, and you nodded with a sigh.

“Okay,” you saw her smile and you couldn’t argue anymore.

When you stepped into the shower you just let the water wash over you, to erase the image of the tree falling right where Cairo was, to wash away the worry and fear as you ran through the forest, desperately looking for her. Everything turned out fine, in the end and you found yourself no longer caring about the answer to your question.

It no longer mattered why Cairo pushed you away, what was happening now mattered much more, and you weren’t going to waste it just because she didn’t want to give you your answer.

When you stepped outside in the shirt and trousers she gave you that were a bit too big for her, you saw her already in her bed, and she turned to look at you, her still slightly damp hair sticking to her skin. “Hey, how are you doing?” you approached her and knelt next to her, only now realizing how stupidly tall her bed was.

Cairo looked at your hand, resting on the edge of her bed and then at your eyes. “Better now. Thank you for looking for me.”

You shook your head. “Don’t thank me for that, you asshole. I’ll scold you properly later,” you promised, luring out another smile from her.

“Do you want to read together?” she asked, moving to the side as if offering her bed to you.

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest decision, but you nodded, getting in the bed next to her and getting comfortable as she opened the book that somehow became the most tangible reminder of your past. You settled down and took a deep breath, and you realized your mistake, as Cairo’s scent invaded your senses.

“Can I start?” she asked and you nodded, focusing only on her voice as she began reading the book.

~X~

Cairo woke up around noon, alone in her room, and more importantly, she missed school. Almost two whole days, that was strange for her, yet she doubted anyone would notice. She wondered when you left, well, she woke up when you got up this morning. The two of you fell asleep about two-thirds into the book. Nothing happened during the night, neither of you subconsciously moved like books so often depicted, she didn’t wake up tangled up with you, or holding your hand, or anything. You just happened to sleep three feet apart because her bed was so ridiculously big.

She stretched a bit and got up and as she opened her window she heard a sound she wasn’t used to coming from her backyard. She looked out through the window and saw you moving some pots she didn’t recognize. “Y/N?” she called out and her heart skipped a beat when she saw you looking up.

“Come down here! I want to show you something!” you yelled, a wide grin on your face.

“Give me ten minutes!” she told you and rushed to the bathroom to get ready. She couldn’t remember the last time she rushed this much to get changed and ready for the day, it certainly didn’t happen since she was a child and had all day free to play with you.

She barely even remembered the last time she purposely went to her backyard, yet here she was, walking over to you as you finished whatever you were doing. When she stopped next to you she saw the pots, five of them, filled with earth, and stems from the wild rose bush stuck in them.

“If I did everything correctly at least one should sprout roots,” you said as Cairo, speechless for once, looked between you and the roses. “I noticed the crushed bush, so I went back after getting everything I needed,” you said softly.

Cairo felt a tear sliding down her cheek as she jumped into your arms, ignoring any dirt that may have gotten on you. All the unwanted tension between the two of you seemed to fade away as you got over your surprise and hugged her back.

Taglist: @deimaisgail @bee-keeping @marvelous-disaster @jmwetterlund @tekanparadiae

@alexkolax @ioveyouyouloveme @aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh @autorasexy

#cairo sweet x female reader #cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #miller's girl #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

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rollinouttahere-writes · 3 days

Text

I'm bad at being on hiatus apparently. Here's some shamelessly self indulgent Sanji fluff.

A Father's Joy

Sanji x Fem Reader

2.5k words

Warnings for brief, nondescript mentions of pregnancy and childbirth

You love Sanji. Perhaps too much. Despite only knowing him for a little over a month by the time you had to part ways to become stronger, you fell for him hard and fast. It was a whirlwind romance, but it just felt right. Everything about him was endearing to you, so the relationship progressed faster than it normally would. You were a pirate now. Why should you abide by normal dating conventions? If it felt right and both of you were happy about it, then why not indulge?

Less than a month into your training, you realized that you perhaps over indulged. You were pregnant. There was only one man that could be the father, and he was on an entirely different island. And you won’t see him again for almost two years.

Having to deal with a surprise pregnancy was difficult at the best of times. Coping with it while training to become stronger and trying to figure out what to do about Sanji was a nightmare. You wanted to tell him. He had every right to know… but should he?

Would it really be fair to make him aware of a baby that he won’t even be able to see, much less hold? It felt horrible to keep him in the dark, but the idea of telling him now in a letter felt even worse. He wasn’t going to be able to be with the child either way… so you chose to let him live in blissful ignorance until the reunion. You could only hope he would understand your reasoning and not feel too betrayed.

The only thing you were concerned about was how he would take learning that he missed out on over a year of his baby’s life. You knew without a doubt that he would love his daughter and that he wasn’t the type to question paternity. Not that he could even if he wanted to. Abigail was the spitting image of her father, right down to the slightly curled eyebrows. They weren’t quite as pronounced as his, but the slight curl was unmistakable.

As scary as it was to find out you were having her, you loved Abigail more than anything. She might have hindered your training, but you more than made up for it after you recovered from her birth. The second you were able to look upon her, you knew you would fight anyone and everyone to keep her safe and happy, and that definitely came out in your training.

Abigail was sixteen months old, and you’ve spent those months obsessively taking pictures of her every waking (and sometimes sleeping) moment. You’d also been showing her a picture of you and Sanji together and teaching her to say ‘dada’ every time she saw his face. You’re pretty sure Sanji will die of a broken heart if he doesn’t get called that upon their first meeting. Hopefully he doesn’t look too different after these two years.

By the time the two years had ended and it was time to reunite, you were feeling much more confident in your strengths and capability as a fellow Straw Hat. Though you couldn’t help but feel nervous about how Sanji will take the news. He was going to be devastated to have missed so much of the beginning of his daughter’s life, that much was inevitable. More than ever, you were questioning your decision to keep her a secret.

Running into Nami on the way back helped alleviate your worries. She had actually agreed with what you did, saying that he would have spent the past two years sulking if he did know. She’d also been all over Abigail, cooing over how cute she was and immediately asserting herself as her godmother. You had no objection to her self-appointed status, and you know Sanji certainly won’t have a problem with it. Knowing him, he’ll forgo the godfather position and instead have Robin be a second godmother.

Seeing the Thousand Sunny again was extremely heartwarming, especially when you saw your crewmates. It was a joyful reunion, and everyone else had had equally positive reactions to Abigail. Franky immediately got to work on building a crib and other baby furniture for her and even made some comments about fitting in a nursery on the ship for her. Usopp was thrilled to have a new captive audience for his storytelling, especially since she was too young to question (or even understand) the validity of anything he was saying. Chopper and Brook were awed and excited at her presence, with Chopper swearing up and down that he was going to be the best doctor ever for her. Brook, on the other hand, played music to help calm her down after she started crying when she saw him. It did work, but Abigail was distinctly still wary of the giant talking skeleton. Robin was her usual, subdued self, but she was clearly happy to see her, commenting on how happy Sanji is going to be when he gets here.

If only that would happen already. Of course, he was one of the people that wasn’t there yet. Luffy and Zoro weren’t there either. Part of you was happy to have more time before the reveal, but the other side of you wanted to finally get this weight off your chest.

You guys had finally gotten word of where the missing three were, and Chopper had been sent out to fetch them. Abigail was currently napping in your shared room in the crib that Franky had built in record time. Everyone had agreed to make sure that you and Sanji would have ample alone time for you to introduce him to his daughter. The moment of truth was close, and your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest.

Finally, you saw them approaching. Luffy called out to everyone, and for a moment, all of your fears were forgotten. All you could think about was how amazing it was for all of you to be together again.

Then you saw him. Sanji was seated next to Luffy on the bird Chopper had used to pick them up. The second you made eye contact with him, he stared at you in awe. A wide grin broke out across his face, and the next thing you knew, he was leaping off the bird.

Before you could yell at him that he was nowhere near the boat yet, he surprised you by running across the air. Huh. That was new. You didn’t have much time to dwell on the new ability before Sanji closed the distance and all but tackled you.

The familiar scent of Sanji’s cologne mingled with tobacco flooded your senses, and you had to choke back happy tears as you could finally feel him again. His arms were locked around your middle as he lifted you into the air and spun you around.

“(Y/N)-swan! My love! My everything!” Sanji dropped you down just enough to start aggressively kissing all over your face. More scruff than you were used to scratched at your cheeks, but it was nice.

You couldn’t help but giggle at the loving assault. “So I take it you missed me a little?”

“A little?! Do you have any idea what it was like for me to be away from you for so long? It was awful! I thought I wasn’t going to make it!” Sanji held you tight again, rubbing the side of his head against your own. Your heart panged. If he struggled just with being away from you, maybe it was good that you kept Abigail a secret.

“I’m sure you two have lots of catching up to do. You should go somewhere private.” Nami strolled over to where you two were, smiling widely. You could practically feel the excitement coming off of her. Sanji perked up from her appearance and immediately started fawning over her. This didn’t last long because Nami slapped the back of his head and firmly told him to go with you. You wanted to laugh at her less than subtle method for making sure you got some alone time, but your nerves about what was just about to happen kept that at bay.

Hooking Sanji’s arm with yours, you guide him to the sleeping quarters you share with Nami and Robin. Sanji was entirely unbothered from Nami slapping his head and was back to cuddling up to you while you walked.

“You look even more stunning than I remembered, my love,” his voice purred in your ear. Despite everything, you felt your face getting hot. You shook your head. Now was not the time for any of that! That damn voice of his was what got you into your current predicament, and you couldn’t go falling into it carelessly again. Abigail did not need a sibling this soon.

Once you reach the door, you stop Sanji and turn to face him, “I need you to close your eyes and keep them closed until I say so.”

Sanji grinned and closed his eyes without hesitation. You open the door and quickly usher him inside before locking the door behind you. You could see Sanji perk up from the sound, no doubt making some wildly incorrect assumptions about what was about to go down. You guide Sanji over to your bed and have him sit down, knowing that it will probably be best if he’s sitting for this reveal.

He’s practically buzzing with giddiness, and you feel a little bad for the emotional whiplash that you’re about to put him through. Gripping his shoulders firmly, you speak again, “I’ll be right back. Keep your eyes closed.”

“Of course, (Y/N)-swan!”

You step back, watching his face for any indication that he might peek, but you saw none. He had always been pretty obedient, so you suppose you didn’t really need to worry about that. You turn around and walk over to where the crib was placed. Abigail was rubbing at her eyes, appearing to just now be waking up. You had her wearing a sky blue dress with a matching ribbon that was holding together her tuft of blonde hair at the top of her head.

Carefully, you scoop her into your arms, bouncing her slightly. This was it. It was time for her to finally see more than just a picture of her dad.

The distance between her crib and your bed felt much longer on the way back. Your heart pounded with each step. Abigail stared at Sanji curiously as you got closer to him, and you prayed that the new facial hair wasn’t going to be enough to make him unrecognizable to her.

When you’re just a few steps away from him, you stop. Swallowing thickly, you rip the bandaid off. “You can open your eyes now.”

Not even a beat passes before Sanji eagerly opens his eyes with a grin on his face. Then his eyes zero in on Abigail, and it’s gone. He stares at her with wide eyes for what feels like an eternity. You don’t push him, knowing that he needs to take this in at his own pace. You can practically hear the gears in his head turning as he stares intently at his daughter’s face.

Suddenly, Abigail holds out her arms to Sanji while making grabby hands at him, saying precisely what you had hoped she would say. “Dada.”

Just like that, Sanji is snapped out of his daze and lurches forward to take her into his own arms. He stands there, tightly clutching the toddler to his chest. He looks at you with tears starting to drip down his face. He speaks with a choked voice, “Dada?”

The question is more than clear to you. “Yes… that’s your daughter.” You step closer and lightly rub his shoulder. “Her name is Abigail.”

Sanji sniffled loudly and pulled her back just enough to be able to look at her face again. She looked up at him with a confused expression, not understanding why he was crying. She reached up and patted his face with her pudgy hands while repeating the word ‘dada’ over and over again.

This only made him cry more. He switched to holding her with one arm so he could wipe at his face. Sanji cleared his throat and looked at her again, “Hi, Abigail. I’m your dada.” Despite his onslaught of tears, he was smiling widely.

He hugged her close, then looked back at you, “How old is she?”

You were certain that hearing the number would hit him hard, but he needed to know. “A year and four months.”

The waterworks started anew. “I missed a year and four months of my baby’s life?”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, there was nothing you could do. I know it’s not the same as being there, but I took lots of pictures.” You already had two photo albums of Abigail. Sanji didn’t respond, so you continued, “I’m sorry that this is how you’re finding out… I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out, but I wasn’t sure it would be a good idea. I knew that you wouldn’t be able to see her until the two years were over, so I thought it would hurt less for you not to know. I’m sorry that I kept this from you, and I’ll understand if you’re angry with me for it.”

Getting all of that off your chest was relieving, but also uncomfortable. You couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye while saying that, instead choosing to stare down at your feet.

Before you could dwell on it for too long, Sanji brings you into a crushing embrace with Abigail squished between you. He only pulled away when Abigail started to squirm and whine. When he stepped back, his eye was staring so deeply into yours that you felt like he could see into your very soul. He spoke in such a soft and loving tone that it made you want to cry. “I could never be angry with you. Especially not for this. I should be the one apologizing. You had to go through all of that alone. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most.”

Blinking back tears, you speak softly, “Don’t apologize. You didn’t know. I’m not holding it against you, so you better not hold it against yourself.” You hug his side so as to not squish Abigail again. You and Sanji share a quiet moment while watching her play with his tie, not a care in the world. Your eyes flit to Sanji’s face, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst from how adoring his expression is. A warm smile spreads across your face, and you rest your head against his shoulder, “She looks a lot like you, doesn’t she?”

“She looks just like my mom.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t recall Sanji ever mentioning his mother before. Or any of his family, really. Based off the soft, nostalgic look on his face, you can only assume that his mother must have been a wonderful person. You want to pry, but now doesn’t feel like a good time. You’ll ask about her later.

For now, you just want to focus on Sanji and catching him up on everything he’s missed.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #sanji #blank leg sanji #sanji x reader #reader insert #x reader #i should be working on lucky break but alas #baby fever was hitting hard tonight

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jokeroutsubs · 2 days

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[ENG translation] Jure Maček, Joker Out's drummer: "I don't have time for dating"

An article and interview with Jure Maček, published in Suzy magazine on 1.3.2024.

Original article is available here for Slovenske novice subscribers. Article written by Anita Krizmanić for Suzy magazine. English translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Music has accompanied the 27-year-old from Logatec since early childhood. He fell in love with it because of his father and grandfather, who were excellent musicians themselves. Besides them, he also had a number of other great teachers who introduced him to various genres, he played in the symphony orchestra and several bands, and just over three years ago, he finally found what he had been looking for – Joker Out, the band that became his new family. A pleasant and open conversation partner, who believed in his dreams and is living them today, gave us an honest interview about what his journey was like before he and his band embarked on the incredible odyssey that started last year before Eurovision.

Tours are tiring, but also incredibly exciting. // "They wouldn't let me play the drums in music school, because they weren't on the curriculum, so I decided that I would learn how to play them on my own."

"Each of us dreamed about one day finding ourselves where we are now. We're aware that many people don't have that chance. We miss home, we haven't been there very often in the past year, which we've already got used to. To each other, as well. We support each other and we know how to coexist. We're doing just fine, but there are moments when you have to grin and bear it. There aren't many of those, though, because we're mostly having a good time and we enjoy making music," a smiling Jure tells us from London, where the boys have been temporarily living and creating since the beginning of the year.

During our chat, he walks around the city and tells us that life with Bojan, Kris, Nace and Jan is very simple. "Because we're great friends, even though we could all use a moment of solitude now and then. Especially now that we're living in a small London apartment. But we know each other so well that we know what each of us is like, when and why he's in a bad mood, what he needs, and how to fix a certain situation. We're a nice and happy family," he smiles, and adds that they all know how to take a step back, but at the same time, they're firm when they want to emphasise their idea or opinion.

"Sometimes it's better if someone says what they're thinking out loud, presents their idea, and if we collectively latch onto something, we can get great results. It's the same with music," he continues.

LIVING HIS DREAMS AT PEACE

The fruits of their hard and dedicated labour over the past few weeks can already be seen, some are yet to materialise. The band recently sent 'Everybody's Waiting' out into the world, a song that centres the personal thoughts and contemplations that accompany many young people.

"When we make music, we try not to think about other worlds and the audience. When a song is being made, each of us has to feel it and add a small part of what makes him happy to it. When we get to the point where all of us are happy with our work, we know that we created something good, and that's also when people can feel it or find themselves in it," he says.

Joker Out, with their magic and meaningfulness, always take us into worlds where everyone is safe and understood, even when they think they're not. He agrees that a loving attitude towards yourself and others is key in the chaotic world that surrounds us.

"I am at peace with the people around me. I appreciate them very much and they make me even more happy to be in this world." He is grateful for fulfilling his dreams, which he never let anyone take from him as a young musician. "I currently make a living only from music, so I am living my dreams," he smiles.

After working on the album, the boys are leaving for the European tour.

DRUMMERS LIKE CONTROL

As a drummer, he keeps in the background, but that doesn't mean he lives in the band's shadow. "We're special people. We're happiest if things are under control. Just the fact that we sit all the way in the back says enough. You can see everything from there," he says, and adds that drummers are pretty technical types who are more reserved than the other band members. "We like the space we create for ourselves around the drums. That is our world and we really enjoy it. We're pretty nuts," he jokes.

We also chat about the band's fans, who are a unique phenomenon, as they know all the lyrics. "It's a crazy feeling when people abroad sing songs in Slovenian." Otherwise, he never craved attention and he's pretty introverted. "Out of everyone in the band, I'm the least enthusiastic about hanging out after gigs, not because I don't like the fans, but because I like my peace. I need time for myself after performances, which the fans very much respect and understand. After each gig, we take time to meet people, even if not all of us are there."

Despite looking thousands of girls in the eyes at gigs, his heart is currently not taken. "There's no time for dating. There was none last year, and none this year yet either," he laughs.

STEALING HIS MUM'S POTS

During our conversation, we also touch on his upbringing, and he tells me that he fell in love with music as a child, since his father Mitja and grandfather Cveto were also musicians. "I remember dancing around the living room with grandpa on Sundays, and moments when I stole my mum's pots from the kitchen, took them to the living room and banged on them with full force. All of that moved something inside me, leading me to being a musician today," he's convinced.

Another key moment happened when his father, who was also a drummer, took him to the concert of the guitarist and frontman of Dire Straits, Mark Knopfler, in Tivoli Hall as a boy. "That was probably where it first became clear to me that I really wanted this," he says. His parents enrolled him in the music school in Logatec where he studied percussion instruments for eight years, he played in a brass band and a symphony orchestra, he was a member of various bands in elementary school.

"They wouldn't let me play the drums in music school, because they weren't on the curriculum, so I decided that I would learn how to play them on my own. After that, I had a more and more successful band each year, it escalated until I joined Joker Out," he remembers his younger years, when he was getting to know various genres and enjoying his calling more and more each year.

"We drummers are special people," says Jure.

FALLING IN LOVE WITH FILMING BECAUSE OF HIS DAD

Music, however, wasn't the only thing he spent years getting to know. In high school, thanks in part to his uncle and his dad, who often took him to the field with him as a cameraman, he worked as a correspondent cameraman and editor for RTV Slovenia (Slovenian national television). "When they were looking for a cameraman at RTV Slovenia, I already knew and understood a lot of things. I kind of miss that job. It was very varied because I spent a lot of time in the field, I was at sports, cultural, and political events. During the time when I was both a cameraman and a musician, I realised that there were a lot of parallels between those worlds."

Now, he sometimes misses a slightly more regular schedule. "I used to be home at four in the afternoon, now I won't be home until May," laughs the likable drummer, who really liked working as a cameraman, but was mainly driven by his commitment to music. Now, for just over three years, he's been part of a band in which he's found something more. "I actually didn't really know how to get to that point, because in Slovenia, we often hear that you can't make a living from music and it might be better to find something else, that it's difficult to survive in the music world, that it's not worth it. But there was always something driving me so strongly that I was determined to prove to myself and others that it's possible."

THE CAMERA IS ALWAYS ON

If you want it strongly enough, you can achieve anything you want, he says. He's sure that as a musician, he will never achieve anything bigger than Joker Out. "Even though I like to emphasise that I'm living my dreams, it's not all sunshine and roses. The music world can be very tough, you have to fight every day, because you don't know what you're getting yourself into and what the result will be. Everything is a little unknown."

While the members of Joker Out are constantly discovering new unknown things in their creative world, they're definitely not unknown on the music scene. They caress our ears and souls with their finely crafted lyrics and excellent music. Their fans can now even hope that these outstanding young musicians will record a documentary about their journey in the near future. "We started recording in 2021 and we have a lot of things in stock that might interest people. With us, it's like this: when we're on tour, the camera can be on at any moment, so we have to be a little mindful of how we behave. Actually, everything is recorded – backstage, travelling, hotels, arguments, as well as lovely moments!"

The fans are thrilled by his not-at-all-reserved photos.

DREAMING OF SUMMER AND CAMPING

The magical pinnacle of the band's musical odyssey, which started even before their acclaimed Eurovision performance, happened last October in sold-out Stožice. On this colourful journey, they only had a moment to catch their breath at home before setting off again for new adventures. After a temporary move to London, the boys travelled to Helsinki on the 28th of February, where they did production rehearsals, and their European tour starts on the 1st of March. "We will board the bus which we will live on for one month. I'm looking forward to this experience and the bus tour, as it will be our longest yet," he doesn't hide his excitement. The band will come back to Slovenia for seven days at the end of March to regain their strength, then they will have a few performances in the UK, and on the 15th of April, they will lock themselves into a studio in Hamburg for a month, recording the album that was created in London.

"This year, we were home for three days, until the 4th of January, which makes the days spent in Slovenia even more precious," adds Jure, who is endlessly excited for the summer. "I've seen enough hotels in the past year, so I want a genuine holiday like in the old days, when a friend and I converted a car to be able to sleep in a camp. I miss simple holidays in nature and without a phone. That's what I really want this year, at least for a week or so," one of the most charismatic Slovenian drummers reveals his humble wish to us.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post!

#joker out #jure maček

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kyletogaz · 2 days

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gorgeous, i don’t know if you're accepting requests (if not, please disregard this whole thing) but i can't stop thinking abt kyle with a significant other who braids his hair every time he returns from a long deployment 🥹🥹

i’m sorry it took so long, i hope you like it. 🩵

welcome home, it’s wash day!

kyle says he’s coming home today.

he’s been gone for weeks, and you miss him. the phone calls, texts, and video calls are nothing compared to having your man home from deployment, and in your arms. you’ve barely gotten a wink of sleep since he told you the night before.

“darling, i’m coming home,” kyle croons into the phone when you answer on the first ring.

warmth spreads through your body at the sound of his voice. “are you really?” you blurt out, hope blooming in your chest.

“yes, darling. i can’t wait to see you.”

you can barely contain your excitement when he tells you he’ll be home sometime in the afternoon.

you’ve been keeping yourself busy all morning while you wait for kyle to come home. you’ve been glancing at the clock every now and then, willing the time to go faster. when it doesn’t, you try to read a book. and when that doesn’t help, you end up in the living room, sitting on the sofa with the remote clutched in your hand as the tv drones on. you’re not really paying attention, though. the only thing on your mind right now is kyle as you anticipate his arrival.

you’re not sure how long you sit there caught up in your thoughts, before you hear keys jangling and the front door opening. kyle barely manages to give you a, “honey, i’m home,” before you’re on your feet, launching yourself into his arms.

you knock into kyle with so much force, you almost send the both of you tumbling to the floor. and kyle is just laughing in delight while he hugs you tight. "i've missed you, sweetheart," he murmurs against your temple. he’s so happy to be home.

"not as much as i've missed you, baby," you coo sweetly while staring at him in complete and utter adoration. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

kyle shifts away slightly so he can get a good look at you. you watch as a soft smile spreads across his lips. he thinks you’ve gotten even more beautiful while he was away.

“you checking me out, garrick?” you ask with a teasing grin, laughing softly when he wraps himself around you. you let out a happy sigh when his hand strokes down your back and over your hips, then back up to your face.

“that a problem, sweetness?”

“not at all,” you say before capturing kyle’s plush lips into a kiss. you giggle when he gently yanks you into his broad chest. when he’s done kissing you senseless, you pull away with a pleased look. “let’s get you settled in and then we can do something about your hair.”

whenever kyle came home from deployment you would give his hair a good wash and condition so you could braid it. you would sit kyle down on a chair, shove your phone in his hands, telling him to pick a style from the images in your camera roll. it was your favorite routine. if he was home for a long stretch, you’d make sure kyle left for deployment with fresh braids, his bonnet, and a few of his favorite hair products.

kyle’s braids usually last for two weeks, so whenever he was gone and couldn’t make it back home to have them redone, he’d give his hair a good wash and throw it up in a ponytail until he came home. one time when you suggested that he learn how to braid his own hair, he looked at you like you were crazy. but i like it when you do it, babe. you give the best scalp massages.

as you step away from the front door, expecting kyle to follow, you tell him how cute he looks with a ponytail. he’s right on your heels following you up the steps with a big grin on his face. when you reach the top of the landing, you leave him alone to get settled in, so you can gather everything you’ll need for his hair. you’re so busy going over the checklist in your head, you don’t hear kyle join you in the bathroom.

“need any help, love?” he asks, startling you a bit, from where he’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest.

you notice kyle’s now dressed in sweatpants and a tank top. you bless him with a smile, before telling him he looks cozy. “i think i’ve got everything i need. you can help me carry some of this stuff downstairs after i’m done washing your hair.”

once kyle’s hair is nice and clean, you run the blow dryer through his soft, thick locks. kyle’s sitting on the floor between your thighs enjoying the sensation of your fingers massaging oil into his scalp.

“you know you don’t have to sit on the floor,” you point out, gesturing to the kitchen chair he’d carried into the living room a while ago.

“i’d rather sit here in between your lovely thighs. it’s my favorite spot,” kyle mutters as he scrolls through your camera roll looking for a hairstyle.

you feel yourself grow hot as his words. “kyle, please,” you huff, fighting a smile. “have you found something you like?” you watch as kyle holds the phone up for you to see. the person in the picture has braids going straight back, with a braided heart on the left side of their head. “oh! that’s so cute. i can do that. you’re gonna look so good.”

kyle squeezes your ankle gently. “i better! johnny’s gonna be so jealous when he sees this.” he’s already thinking about taking selfies as soon as you’re done.

you just shake your head with a laugh and reach for the comb to part kyle’s hair. while you’re making magic with his soft locks, he’s chatting animatedly about the things that happens on base. between him and johnny, you’re not sure which one of them gossips the most. it’s fun though, because kyle always has you on the edge of your seat every single time.

“i love this you know,” you hear kyle mumble quietly. you’re almost done braiding his hair and you can tell he’s barely awake. he’s leaning against your thigh with his eyes closed. he looks at peace.

“what’s that?” you ask as your fingers glide through his hair with precision. you’ve saved the heart for last because you want it to be perfect.

“having you braid my hair every time i come home. you’re so good at it, babe. got me looking good all the time.” he let’s out a soft sigh when you pause your braiding, to lean down and press a kiss to his temple.

you tell kyle that braiding his hair is one of your favorite activities to do. you’re always looking up new ways to be creative with his hairstyles. and you love the fact that kyle lets you. when you’re done, you drag him to the nearest mirror so he can look at your work. you ask him if he likes it, and you can’t control your laughter when he sees the heart and says fuck yeah, baby i love it.

“well i’m happy you love it, honey. next time we’ll try adding some tinsel.”

a/n: this is the pic i’m referring to:

#kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyletogazwrites #this is my first request 🥹#i got my hair done like that before hehe

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eepwriting · 2 days

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hiii can i request submissive vessel worshipping the reader pls 🫶🏻

Subby Vessel Headcanons GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw sandwiched between sweetness

Hiii! Thank you for the request 🤍 I love subby sweet vessel!! Decided to do a list format to switch things up a little.

!! mdi !!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

✶ This man just loves you.

✶ Will call and text you when he’s away, rambling about how much his heart aches with how much he misses you.

✶ Constantly talks about you to whoever will listen. A bright smile on his face as he gushes about you.

✶ When you’re together though…oh boy.

✶ Man cannot keep his hands off you. Always has to be touching you in some way.

✶ His favorite handholds are your thighs. When you’re sitting together his hand is either trapped between your closed legs or he’s massaging and groping at your skin.

✶ Will spend hours between your legs and is quick to get on his knees if you ask him.

✶ Once his mouth is on you it’s incredibly difficult to push him away. If you try, he’s whining into your skin, pulling you to him.

✶ He’ll apologize if he’s overdone it with the stimulation but always claims he “just can’t get enough of you.”

✶ Let’s out the prettiest sounds when he goes down on you. Sometimes just at the sight of you.

✶ Whispers praises and compliments on your skin when he kisses over your neck and shoulders.

✶ The first time he saw you naked he just sat there for a solid 15 seconds just looking at you. Eventually reached out to touch you, dropping to his knees in front of you, eyes wide as he looked you up and down.

✶ You can safely say you’d never felt more wanted than you did that night.

✶ He gets offended if you talk bad about yourself.

✶ If you’re feeling self conscious about your appearance he finds the nearest mirror and sets you in front of it. Runs his hands over you and makes you repeat affirmations and compliments about yourself.

✶ Will definitely fuck you slowly in front of said mirror. Tells you to watch yourself so you can see what he sees.

✶ If you send him photos of yourself, innocent or not, he’s immediately saving the picture and spewing out multiple texts and paragraphs about how perfect you are.

✶ Tells you often how he believes you “were made just for me.”

✶ Stops mid thrust sometimes to just admire you, mumbling something along the lines of “I can’t believe all this is just for me.”

✶ Goes out of his way to shower you with gifts and gestures to show you how much he appreciates you.

✶ He always remembers the little things you say in passing. You spot something in a store you’d like to have? He’s surprising you with it later in the week. You want to travel to your dream destination? He’s booking the flights and hotel and making an itinerary.

✶ Never complains about money he spends on you because “If it’s to make you happy, I’ll be a broke man.”

✶ Just genuinely and wholeheartedly wants and loves you in every way possible and makes sure that you know.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

Try not to yearn for vessel challenge: IMPOSSIBLE

I just know he’d be the sweetest partner y’all.

Thank you again anon for requesting this!! 🤍

Let me know if y’all like this list format too 👀 it’s definitely easier to write this way lol

K. Bye bye.

#sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token fic #sleep token x reader #sleep token smut #sleep token vessel #vessel x reader #sleep token headcanons

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miley1442111 · 7 hours

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hair tie- s.reid

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summary: spencer's hair is getting too long

pairing: spencer reid x fem bau! reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of spencer getting shot

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Spencer. Spencer got shot.

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The panic of four weeks ago had settled into a steady routine of waking him up to do his stretches, making him breakfast, eating breakfast with him in bed, helping him up, helping him while he showered, and getting him dressed to go to work. You could tell he was being driven crazy by not being able to do things for himself, especially considering his entire life he’d had to be independent. But now, he had you.

Another thing Spencer missed was being able to go on cases with you. He wasn’t cleared to fly so every night he was going home to an empty bed and Penelope helping him instead of you. That was the last six nights. Tonight, you’d be in his bed, in his arms, and he’d be happy.

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You turned the lock into Spencer’s apartment and before you even pulled the keys out, Spencer’s arms were around you.

“I missed you,” he smiled as you hugged him back.

“Spencer, stop standing on your leg!” you scolded, letting go of him so that he could lean on his crutches again. He rolled his eyes but followed your instructions and you kissed him on the cheek. “How are you?” You asked, dropping your bags by the bedroom door and locking the front door behind you. Spencer sat down on the couch and beckoned you to sit beside him, so you did.

“Fine, physio got a bit easier this week,” Spencer started in on a long ramble about his week and as he did he kept brushing his hair out of his face. "I need to get a hair cut-" As he spoke you grabbed the hair tie off your wrist tied his hair into a bun at the back of his head. He trailed off in his sentence and stared at you in your proximity.

“What?” You chuckled, warmth creeping up your body as his hands landed themselves in your back.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he smiled. At once you were struck by it, Spencer looked ridiculously hot with his hair up. The small overgrown stubble, the way the side of his lip tilted up when he smiled at you, the way he was looking at you. All of it. He was so pretty.

“So are you,” you smiled and kissed him softly. His hands smoothed up your back and pulled you even closer, and the kiss was searing. Spencer kisses with his whole body, obviously, but this was something different. It was just him. The way he held you like he never wanted to let go, the way wisps of his hair had fallen out and were brushing softly against your skin, the way his body felt against yours.

He pulled away, out of breath and panting. He rested his forehead on your and let out a breathy chuckle. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, challengers, the bear, the hunger games, obx+)

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler x reader

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deaddovedecadence · 3 days

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Demons reacting to you wanting to come back to Devildom

Lucifer: Oh this man is so happy, he isn’t rally showing it of course but he’s happy about it. He won’t let you come back right away because you broke everyone’s hearts, you hurt people by leaving but if you’re hurting, if you hate being on earth, hate the weird human rituals you don’t even understand anymore he’ll let you come home, because that’s what Devildom is, home.

Mammon: He’s immediately making plans to bring you back to him. If Lucifer approves, well then that’s great but if he doesn’t then Mammon will go to Diavolo and make sure that you can get back to him. He adores you, wants you hear, wants you safe, and wants you loved.

Leviathan: It happens on a call for you. You’re telling him about the human world and how you don’t like being there anymore, how everything that isn’t trying to kill you seems foreign, how it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Immediately, he’s like why don’t you come back, not to see me of course but just come back, come home. He already has a plan and favors worked out with Lucifer, he’s been ready to bring you home since you first mentioned not being the happiest in the human realm.

Satan: This man is similar to Levi, in that he’s hada plan to bring you home since the beginning but has had Asmo and Levi working to convince you to come home to them since forever. Honestly, the four of you are probably on a particular kind of call when you realize how much you miss their affection and just how you miss them in general.

Asmo: wanted to charm you to come home to them. Lucifer forbade it so he started planning. He's really good at manipulation so he just casually does it until you realize your emotions on your own time and kinda just adds that he's got a way for you to come back home. When you take him up on it, he's cackling on the inside but gentle on the outside

Beel and Belphie: send you care packages of all kinds of things until you cave, remind you of what you love, of how happy you were with all of them, with their odd situation and the peacefulness of sleeping in a nest with everyone. Sends you blankets that smell like all of them until you're crying and begging to go home to them

#obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me darling

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creativewritersposts · 1 day

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a damn poet - Connor Bedard

requested; @chericherilvr 💓

summary; Connor Bedard x reader

Connor is so busy trying to have his best season that he forgets about things that really matter. He needs to learn how to be a poet to save your relationship.

warning(s); angst! fluff, argument, maybe grammar errors

author's note; it took me hours to finish this one. It was an honor for me to write this request. ♡

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Deep in your heart you know how Connor feels for you. He wouldn't invite you over another continent, joining his world championship, if he wouldn't love you. But something inside you breaks. Seeing all these hockey couples with cute pictures, sending their girlfriend flowers and the players screaming from the rooftop how much they love their girlfriends.

Connor is not like this. He loves you, he cooks your favorite food and watches all movies you want to watch. He's so focused to play the best rookie year he could do and lost the focus on his private life. He doesn't want to post your relationship official, because of his fan base.

You're self-evident for him.

"Hey love", you smile with big eyebags, touching his shoulder as he walks in the hotel room. It's your first time after three days having a real conversation with him.

"Hi", his mouth is straight, kissing your temple and waking in the bathroom. You're exhausted from love-bombing him. You're so tired of being so upset.

"How was your day?", you ask him, hearing the shower. "I can do better", his voice echos back. "You're already enough, my love", you shout back and throw your body into the bed. You spread your arms apart, your legs are on the ground.

Connor comes out after a few minutes ago in a towel, his hair is still wet and he's looking fine.

"What is that?", he grabs a paper from the desk.

"So I hold onto your shirt, as I stain it with blood

Will I finally find my own peace?

Clear my mind out of my thoughts, then state that I'm in love

Tempted with the idea of dying in these sheets"

"I'm writing songs ", your voice shakes. Connor never noticed this because he's always busy and you're asleep when he comes home. You're working full-time in a job you don't like and at night you're writing songs. Hopefully to live from that one day.

Connor looks up from these lines, "since when?", he breathes in. Hid eyes get red. Red like crying. "over a year", you sit up on the bed, your arms are supporting your back.

"Why didn't you tell me, babe?", he sniffles.

Babe. How long didn't you hear this nickname?

"You were busy", you tell him the truth. Maybe he'll break up with you. Connor sobbs, "are you really feeling this way? Finally finding your own peace?", his blue eyes searching yours, you can see how much it burdens him.

"your lyrics are professional, they're so good", he cries and tries to hide it. Whipping his tears with his wrist, face to his bag with all clothes.

He's putting a shirt on, turning around. "I just need time to realize this, babe", he kisses your lips, you taste the salt from his tears.

"You have an important game tomorrow, I'm ok with that ", you response. He nods and lays down. Without a kiss, hug or this comfortable feeling.

He lays down and let you alone with all these thoughts in your head. He doesn't seem to care much about you. Maybe it's time to leave.

Next day Connor feels like shit, even in his hockey clothes, nice fans around his team. He slept surprisingly well, but feels like the night after silvester.

It burns in his chest, you don't feel happy. But why? Since when you're writing songs? as a good boyfriend he should know. What is he missing in this relationship.

He's not shitty boyfriend, he didn't know it's hurting you. He thought its okay that he's having a strict time schedule.

"Concentration, Bedsy!", his teammate hits his shoulder to wake him up from daydreaming. Like a robot Connor played his best game but the celebration feels like a crime.

"Yo Connor are you going out with us?", some boys asking him in the cabin to celebrate their win. "No", he wants to see you. He forgot how stunning you are. How hard working you are. You're a poet and he had no clue!

He walks in your hotel room, lights are out. Just some papers all over the bed. He grabs one paper, reading the lines.

'He grabs me by my neck

Puts a dagger to my heart

Tells me I'm a mess

That I'll never be enough'

Gosh, it hits him. You are more than enough. You're his safe place. He reads every paper, focused about what you feel. It's time to hear out what you need.

He grabs his phone, calling you.

"Hello?", your voice sounds happy. "Where are you, babe?", he asks interested. "I'm at the whirlpool inside the hotel, I'll come over in 5 minutes, okay?", you're scared he's mad when you're late. You thought he's celebrating with his team and won't come to bed until midnight.

You pack the stuff and walk back to your shared room.

The opened door shows you the sort out papers with your lyrics on your bed shelf.

Connor lays in bed, smiling softly. It's typical Connor, he's a clean guy.

He smiles. He smiles at you without talking about hockey. "Congratulations for winning, I'm proud of you", you stutter.

This view feels so surreal, having a relationship after months. Having a boyfriend waiting for you.

"You look beautiful", he grins angelic.

You stopped the last step, "what did you say?". Maybe you have issues with your ears.

"You look beautiful and I love you", he talks loud.

"Love you too?", your honest reaction. The last time he said it, he broke is jaw and was out of his mind because painkillers. Months ago.

"Uhm can we talk, please?", he pets your hand, when you lay down with him. It feels like home. Smelling his perfume, hearing his breath and touching you.

"Sure", you get insecure what's coming next.

"Ok it's not easy for me", one tear runs down his cheek. You're frightened, just able to nod.

"Why do you write songs with me as enemy?", his voice is distanced and cold.

"Oh I'm sorry I don't write lies!", you defense yourself.

"I'm a good boyfriend!", he argues, "you treat me like I'm self-evident!", you yell your frustration out of your lungs. So much pain inside your chest wants to come out of your mouth. So much unsayed words.

"No-", he argues back, more tears are coming out his blue eyes.

"Yes Connor! Yes, it's true! I love writing songs and I hate my job so much! I am crying every night because my boyfriend doesn't care about me and I'm all alone and you're hiding me from fans because you could have a ruined career, I get it!", you sob under choking your salty tears. You're outraged.

You take your pillow and lay down on the floor, Connor looks down, "come over".

"No", "god damn come over!", he huffs.

"You have practice tomorrow, good night!".

That's the last time you saw him for the next two days. He's busy. Semifinals are tonight and Connor posted something on Instagram, you're too upset to check.

One WAG comes to you at the game, giggles and tells you, "never thought Bedsy is a poet!". The game is already on fire but your fingers are like a magnet, they want to switch what he posted - even if he's an idiot.

He posted a picture of you reading a book in the garden, laughing at you without pressure, without hockey and in his caption;

"You can feel, when someone traces your skin

You can kneel, run, jump and also can spin

And when I close my eyes I wish I was just like you"

#connor bedard #connor Bedard x reader #connor Bedard imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl blurb #nhl hockey #Connor Bedard x you

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 days

Text

Vino Veritas - Part II

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic part 1

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. Eventual nsfw, not this chapter. Pretty much in line with the movie here.

II. The Interminable Fucking Car Ride

“So…what do you do?”

“I run the marketing department for JD Power.”

“The car trophy people?”

“That’s a magazine.”

“Ah. So you’re the grand architect of big corporate’s bid to tell us what to think while slyly taking all our money.”

He snorts. “Only those who are incapable of thinking for themselves. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to apply to you.”

If you squint, that almost felt like he was paying you a compliment.

“So, what do you do?” he asks in turn.

You don’t know why you’re almost embarrassed to tell him. “I run an art gallery/gift shop on the beach in Santa Bonita.”

He blinks, those lovely dark eyes fixed on you for a moment. “Of course you do.”

“What does that mean?”

He huffs a little. It almost sounds wistful, but then he frowns, utterly fucking ruining the moment. “You just look the type.”

You’re not sure why that stings…or why you even give a fuck.

The Fucking Rehearsal Dinner

“I’ve never really understood the point of the rehearsal dinner. Is eating so hard we really have to rehearse it?”

You sense an almost twitch of the corner of Frank’s mouth. They have stuck you together at a table in the far back. The black sheep who they felt they had to invite, but didn’t really want to.

“Not to miss the opportunity to make the groom’s parents spend unnecessary money too?” Frank offers.

“Fair to spread the misery, I guess.”

“Didn’t you sue Keith over this shit?”

“My parents did. They lost thirty thousand dollars in deposits.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. No one should spend that kind of money on a wedding.”

“Strangely, I agree with you now. I didn’t know any better at the time.” You’d been so young, you could hardly even fathom how much thirty-thousand dollars was.

Your parents had been happy at the time with the prospect of marrying you off to Keith. He’d been successful, charming, and outwardly doting on you. They never really thought you had much going on your own, so they probably thought he was the best you could do. The thought still hurts, more than it should.

“I mean,” you blurt, “Did you know who you are or what you wanted when you were 20?”

“Of course not.”

“He was my whole world. When he dumped me. It...it really fucked me up.” You don't know why you're admitting this to this near total stranger. There is just something about his forthright manner that demands honesty.

“Ah well, join the club. My father tried to shoot me once, if it makes you feel any better.”

You blink. “He tried to shoot you?”

“Yes. With a gun.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran at him.”

“You ran at him? Not away from him?”

“Yeah. Well, I was pissed off. He tried to shoot me again, but I got the gun away from him and hit him with it. Broke his orbital bone. He said I was the accumulation of all his bad decisions. He started to cry and begged me to kill him. I didn’t, only because I didn’t want to fuck my whole life up. The poor bastard jumped out the seventh floor the next day.”

Before you can stop yourself you reach out to place your hand on his on the table.

Before he can stop himself, his long fingers close around yours.

This connection endures for precisely 1.5 seconds before he shakes you off.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think your fine.”

“Fine, I’m all fucked up, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

You sigh, sinking down in your chair, embarrassed. Why did you touch him? What were you thinking?

“I guess we’re in the club together,” you answer miserably.

You feel him looking at you out the corner of his eye. There is a weight to this man’s gaze. It’s not unpleasant, just…you feel as though he sees everything.

“I feel like we should get at least decoder rings or something,” he grumbles.

The bride and groom make their entrance, interrupting whatever acerbic thing you were going to say next. You watch as they make their way through the crowd, basking in the glow of being the center of attention. Keith always loved that shit. You hate to admit, that his bride to be is a solid stone cold foxy 10. The kind of woman that men will trip over themselves for as they walk down the street.

You weren’t bad looking but you’d never had that kind of power.

If you wanted to trip a man, you had to do the dirty work and actually stick out your foot.

“Oh, look at us, let us presume to inconvenience you with the ostentatious display of our love,” you mock quietly in a mousy little falsetto.

It actually makes Frank laugh. At least, you think it’s a laugh. Maybe it was indigestion.

He joins in, though forgoing the funny voice, “And we’re conceited enough to think we’re actually different from the rest of the human race, and our love will last forever and ever…”

You’re enjoying this malicious bit of fun, but there is something in the way that he says it that makes you pause. “You don’t think love can ever last?” you ask.

He snorts. “Well, he doesn’t. I heard the prenup she had to sign was brutal,” he tells you.

“Poor thing.”

“You really feel sorry for her?”

“Slightly?”

“Are you going to say hello?”

You sigh. “I guess I fucking better.”

You slowly make to stand, the chair screeching under you. “Give ‘em hell, kid.”

You flip Frank the bird as you go, and hear that peculiar strangled sound that must pass for his outward expression of mirth.

Dumb ass free shit you would never do on your own

"I spoke to the bride last night."

“Indeed?”

You’ve had pedicures before, but you’ve never sprung for a professional foot massage, and you have to admit it feels pretty good. It totally surprised you to find Frank there, but he’d informed you unashamedly that he can’t resist free shit. You find that amusing, considering he’s obviously comfortable, if not outright rich.

Maybe that’s how he stays that way.

“Yes, and she told me she doesn’t mind that you’re here, and she’s not threatened by you.”

You snort at that, taking a long sip of your iced latte.

“At least, I think she meant you. She’s dumb as a box of rocks, it was hard to tell who or what she was talking about at times.”

You sigh at hearing that. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to soothe my feelings.”

It’s his turn to snort. “Merely reporting facts, I assure you. If you still feel badly about Keith and have not managed to move on to one of the other 8 billion people on this planet, then there is no helping you.”

“Is that your method for getting over a bad breakup?” He makes it sound so easy, you cannot help but roll your eyes at him.

“No, I have opted out of that shit show. It makes me uniquely qualified to offer comment on your own situation.”

You tilt you head in confusion, looking over at him. “You’ve…opted out of what? Dating? Romance? Marriage?”

“All of the above. It never ends well, as I have learned from watching my mother’s train wreck of a life as she blithely stumbled between marriages and boyfriends and suitors.”

“That’s so sad,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

If you hadn’t already started to learn this man’s gestures, you would have missed the way he stiffened slightly, staring fixedly down at his feet.

“How many times have you been in love?” he asks.

You think about it, and regret the answer. “Just the once.” With Keith, the asshole. Any one who came after didn’t have much luck getting over the wall you built to protect yourself from another heartbreak.

He looks at you then, and you are pinned by those chocolate brown eyes, that for once seem earnest rather than annoyed. “What’s it like?”

The fact that this man, who is at least ten if not fifteen years your elder, is asking you tears your heart into little bits of confetti.

“It’s like going insane,” you answer truthfully, and he looks back down, frowning.

“I thought so.”

***

You are standing in your inflatable body bumpers together on the sidelines, declining to partake in this insane sport, content to watch the others attempt to inflict cervical injuries on themselves and others.

The question is eating at you, and you decide what the hell. What’s he going to do? Be mean to you?

“So, you’ve never been in love?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers, frowning, though it’s the same frown he’s been wearing for the past hour watching the idiots running around the field.

“Believe me, you would know.”

“Do insane people know they’re insane?”

“Ok, maybe that was a bad comparison. It’s…total surrender.”

“Wow, you’re really talking it up.”

“It is though. You have these special feelings for a person, and you just know whatever they do to you, it won’t matter, because you’ll still care for them.”

“It doesn’t matter, until it does matter.”

“Some people have higher tolerances for pain than others.”

“If you loved Keith you could probably take a Caesar-style stabbing without flinching.”

You’re not sure how exactly to respond to that.

“At any rate. I prefer to avoid pain rather than withstand it. My parents inflicted quite enough. No need to spread it around.”

“Alright, I get it that your parents sufficiently traumatized you, with the failed marriages and the…shooting thing. But doesn’t there come a point where you have to let it go and rise above it?”

“I don’t see any reason to.”

“Think about all your missing out on though.”

“What exactly is that?”

“You know…human connection. The things that make life worth living.”

“Jesus, are you sure you don’t work for Hallmark?”

“Positive.”

“I bet you sell rocks in your shop that have inspirational words carved in them.”

“Of course I do. The markup on those things is astronomical.”

You see him smirk out the corner of his eye.

“I bet you also sell little statues of big-eyed children slinging bible verses.”

“Ohhh, now those are fighting words, sir.” You bump him lightly with your inflatable tutu, making him shuffle a step. For a fleeting moment, you catch a hint of a smile, and it feels like a resounding victory.

Feeling bold, you fix him with an earnest stare. “You claim you’ve opted out of this mess. But what if you meet someone you really like?”

“Then I should probably run swiftly in the opposite direction,” he says, paying you a side-eyed look.

Five minutes later, he does quit the field, though he doesn’t quite run from it. You tell your self that it’s just a coincidence, and that he was just done standing in a polyvinyl orb in this heat.

But deep down…there is the tiniest kindling of something in your heart, and you know you should kick dirt over that shit and stomp on it.

You don’t, and you carry a ridiculous little light feeling with you as you return to the hotel.

It feels like you swallowed a butterfly.

#destination wedding #frank x you #frank x reader #frank x y/n #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #keanu reeves x you #frank reeves x you #frank reeves x reader #vino veritas destination wedding fic #destination wedding frank x you

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bbbuckaroo · 2 days

Note

What’s your honest opinion on the Oliver and Lou interview?

Some Buddie shippers are saying it was awkward and Oliver hates Lou. Comparing it to the when Ryan and Lou first started doing press.

Personally I don’t think it was awkward at all. The only time it was weird when Mario Lopez mentioned Lou’s father which he has a not so great relationship with and you could tell Oliver was comforting Lou. Lou clearly got upset and in his answer didn’t his father and made it clear he mentioned his mother. I know ABC PR was there so idk why they didn’t step in to stop that questioning?

It’s sad after Ryan podcast mentioning mental health it seems like some shippers only care about Ryan’s mental health and not anyone else’s on the cast.

Also the photos Lou posted on his IG aren’t flattering on him or Oliver and the shippers are using that as their evidence. I think the talk show sent them to him to us and made the hosts look better 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

I thought it was a great little snippet of Lou and Oliver’s relationship, especially for those who think they don’t even like each other. Definitely showcased more of their chemistry both on and off the screen. I do think it was awkward for two reasons NEITHER were because of Oliver’s supposed “hatred.” I need some of whatever drug these delulu’s are on because it sounds like a real trip.

1) It was one of Lou’s first major network interviews that I know of, unless I missed some for SWAT. Otherwise it’s been smaller platforms since he’s typically been in smaller roles/movies in terms of publicity and network. So you could tell he was nervous and from what he’s said about himself, he seems to be an anxious person (I mean, who isn’t?) so of course he’s going to emit that energy. And I mean, as much as it’s cringey AF, Access Hollywood is very well known.

2) The horrible questions. Of course he’s not going to be able to say where BuckTommy is going because that would be a huge spoiler and the network would not be happy. Also who knows how much they’ve even written of season eight. So he’s stating the obvious. Then honing in one his bodybuilding which hey is great because he clearly takes care of himself and swung it very positive by promoting taking care of oneself for both physical and mental health. So that was great. But the second they mentioned his dad? Yeah it was all over. They could have done their research even with a simple Google search and seen that there’s issues there, let alone Lou technically being a nepo baby. So they intentionally said that knowing that and then instead of focusing on Lou’s accomplishments they focused on his dad. The combination was awful but I do feel like Lou did handle it very well, he was able to come across as very neutral and diplomatic. Sk bravo to him.

And if there needed to be any proof that Oliver doesn’t hate and indeed both likes and respects him, it was how he diverted the conversation. He immediately did the little arm grab (a very conscious decision that no one would do if they disliked someone) to inject some humor, also by making the quip about him not being complimented. Which is know was a joke but it was true that it was awkward for them to gush over Lou and not Oliver who also takes great care of himself. It was pretty objectifying honestly. So Oliver jumping in and doing that shows he both 1) knows Lou well enough to read him and 2) likes Lou enough to make a choice to swoop in and “save” him.

I’m not sure how much ABC could have done, they may have pre-screened some questions but the interview was so short that if they went off script there was no time for damage control. And then again who knows how much they know and him being Lou Ferrigno’s son does draw attention. I do love Lou’s mention of looking like his mother which is both very true and a little nudge at wanting separation from his father, definitely a mama’s boy.

And as beautiful and brave it was for Ryan to say what he did, I agree that he’s the only person they’re making seem like has mental health issues. While they may not be as serious as suicidal thoughts that doesn’t devalue anyone else’s. And while Lou isn’t a main and wouldn’t get as much attention for it, he’s been very open about major insecurity (also bringing us back to his father) and anxiety even leading to self destructive behaviors. And not just them, all the cast have been supportive of both on and off screen mental health topics, including Oliver who has also eluded to anxiety, etc. I think they should be all be valued and weighed the same, but anything Ryan does now will sanctify him just to make Lou look worse because Lou plays the man Buck loves and the delulu’s hate it. So. Unfair.

The pictures were awful and even I was like geez Oliver’s got a serious RBF and obviously Lou looks uncomfortable but automatically jumping on that as hating each other is just … I just don’t know how to say it nicely anymore. But as I and many have said, we cannot gove these toxic people attention no matter how much it infuriates us, we can only show support to the actors and make sure they know the toxicity is only a small percentage. But you’re always going to hear more negativity than positivity because misery loves company and the squeaky wheel gets the grease (#metaphorsfordays).

To end this novel #2: Oliver and Lou clearly get along and have chemistry on and off screen to the point that Oliver came to his aid in a very awkward situation (he could have just let him flounder), all mental health issues matter, and those less than pleasant Oliver and Lou expressions were not directed as each other - they were directed at the slimy hosts.

#911 show #911 abc #lou ferrigno jr #oliver stark #ryan guzman #tommy kinard #evan buckley #eddie diaz #access hollywood #lou is such a mama’s boy and it gives me life

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fluffysucker · 24 hours

Text

There's nothing like this

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU) Boxer/Biker! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader Part of the Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince. AKA Bucky and his princess ALL ONESHOTS CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONE

Bucky looks at you and your relationship

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me.

Been sitting on this one for a while now.Anyway hope you look it.

HEAVILY based on Hozier's song 'Two sweet'. Because look at me and tell this song isn't so Bucky and his princess.

Main Masterlist

It was absurd. It was unusual. It was odd. It was unconventional. It was everything but normal.

However, it made perfect sense for both of them.

He was focused. He was determined. He was in the ring. He held his hands up near his face, calculating his next steps carefully. If he played it right, the fight was his with the least effort.

And he did. Because right now, he was the legend. The icon. The unbeatable. He was James Barnes. He was, as many like to call him, the Winter Soldier.

The opposite man never stood a chance to begin with. He knew it. Everybody knew it. It's a sad day in any player's life when they are paired with Barnes.

His legacy was unequal. His reputation preceded him. His demeanor spoke loudly. His appearance made it clear. His strong body and physique. His toned muscles. His broad shoulders. His long hair. His cold stare.

Everything about him prompted fear to the hearts of all players who sought this game as a profession.

He was untouchable. He was unconquerable. He was the Winter Soldier. He was James Barnes.

Winning this fight in record time with a final blow from his left arm, which the opponent wouldn't recover from, wasn't what was abnormal about this.

The abnormality came from the girl in the pink dress and bright makeup who sat in the first row and cheered for Barnes like her life was dependent on it.

Finally, you were able to get to this place in your relationship where Bucky was okay with you watching him fight.

You thought you had lost your hearing when Bucky told you that you could come and watch for the first time. You were playfully nagging him about it like you usually did whenever he had fights coming up. You never expected him to give in and agree this time. It took you a couple of seconds to react. Only regaining composure when he offered to take it back. Over your dead body. You had been waiting for this long enough.

Bucky couldn't understand how or why someone would get this happy and excited to watch a boxing match. Especially someone like you. Someone so sweet and adorable.

Your excited squeals and up-and-down jumping in the kitchen of his apartment once he told you left him surprised in a pleasant way.

You really did love him so much that you wanted to risk being in such a place only to support him. Not that he would let anything happen to you. Never in a million years. But a person like you could never belong to places like these. And you were smart enough to know that.

But you didn't care. You had been asking for this for a long time. You meant every word you said. You wanted to support him, be there for him, and cheer for him. You wanted it.

You wanted to be a part of every aspect of Bucky's life. Because you loved everything about him.

And letting you come and watch him felt like a great victory and a big step forward. All your patience and understanding paid off.

And you continued. Letting Bucky decide whenever you could join. Let him have one of the guys pick you up and drop you off. Let him assign another one to stay with you.

It made you laugh inside. One of them would show up at your restaurant's door at the agreed-upon time and take you to the Stark property. Then, once you reached inside, another would be waiting for you to accompany you the whole time you were here. Most of the time, it was either Steve or Sam. Given that Bucky trusted them the most and you were closest to them,.

The whole thing felt very funny to you. You felt like a child being handed around from one to the other. But you were okay with it. You knew that was the only way for Bucky to let you come here. So you didn't mind. Whatever would put his mind at ease and would allow you to support your boyfriend. You were fine with it.

Bucky always made sure he planned it right. He made sure you arrived at the right time when you were able to watch his full fight from the start, but nothing before it. You were here only for him, and it should stay like this. He didn't like the idea of you seeing other messy, brutal fights. That was also why he made sure he brought you to fights that were easy. He knew he was winning. Fights that he came out of with barely a scratch.

Of course, you noticed this pattern of choices. But you didn't bring it. And you wouldn't. At least for now.

However, the most important thing for Bucky was making sure someone stayed with you at all times until you left. If Sam or Steve were unavailable to do this job for any reason, you weren't coming. It wasn't up to debate.

He knew the people who frequented Stark Property. They would eat you alive. Your lovability and tenderness would draw them to you like a deer in a wolf den. And they wouldn't be kind. And Bucky couldn't have this. If anyone said something to you, let alone tried to lay a hand on you, Bucky would burn the whole place down. No hesitation. No thoughts. Everybody would be in great danger.

Just like he was untouchable, you were too. And even more.

Knowing so, Sam and Steve took their assignments seriously. Because while both men loved you and cared for you, they were aware of Bucky's nature. It was no joke to him. God forbid he turn around mid-fight and see you sitting alone. They wouldn't hear the end of it. There were very few things the three men considered to be a threat to their long and strong friendship; this was one of them.

So today, after the referee announced him the winner, he turned to the crowd that was applauding him. His eyes immediately caught you. Standing in between Yelena and Sam in your puff-sleeved, heart-shaped neckline, filled with rose-flower pink dress, matching your shiny pinkish makeup. Your hair braided at the top and rest falling freely on your back. The necklace with his initials resting on the pit of your neck. You were cheering for him like he won the world's most prestigious prize.

Bucky was trying to fight his smile and not break character. You looked unbelievably cute. With your happy smile, bright eyes, and nonstop clapping, it was all for him. You did it for him.

Everybody was cheering for James Barnes or the Winter Soldier, while you were cheering for Bucky.

And he was so grateful.

Bucky left the ring, only throwing a wink at you on his way inside. While Bucky didn't show much affection towards you in here, everyone connected the dots.

You were the boxer's girl. And you held that with pride

Once Bucky was inside, some of the guys came out, making you all head out to the bar to continue the night there.

You were in the middle of a conversation with Wanda when you felt the familiar, strong arms wrap around your waist.

"Hey, princess." Bucky whispered in your ear as he pulled you close to his chest, laying soft kisses on your exposed neck.

You smiled at Wanda, who took this as her cue to give you two spaces. Because in here with the people he mostly trusted, Bucky wasn't shy about giving you all his attention and affection. In other words, it gets sickeningly sweet and loving.

"Hey, babe." You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands tightened around your waist.

"You were so great in there." You said this as you gave his lips a little peck.

"You liked it?" Bucky asked as he kept giving you small kisses.

"Yes, I wanted to shout at everyone to look at how strong my boyfriend is." You were laughing as you tried to speak between his kisses.

"I think they already know." Bucky couldn't help himself when he buried his face in your neck, kissing it softly.

"Well, they need to hear it from me." You felt the vibration of his laugh on your neck.

You moved a bit so he could look at you. You wanted to say this to his face.

"I'm so proud of you." You were looking into his eyes as you said it.

The playful smile on Bucky's face turned into something genuine. The care and love you gave after the fights touched him immensely. Nobody ever treated him like that. So gently. It was puzzling how, after watching a fight like this, you still chose to love him so sweetly.

It was an active choice you kept making. He didn't understand why, but he would never complain.

He leaned forward to capture your lips and kiss you softly yet passionately. He wanted to stay like this forever.

As the night went on, you and Bucky separated, travelling to different circles of people. But that didn't mean Bucky didn't keep his eyes off you.

Which was what led to where he was now.

Bucky was sitting in one of the booths, observing you. The back booth gave him the opportunity to see everything.

You were standing with his friends. People who were so different from you yet here you were, getting along greatly with all of them. You were talking to all of them, laughing, and sharing jokes.

Bucky couldn't help the smile on his face when he saw you struggling to give Clint an opinion about the dish he made and presented to you.

But you being you. You managed to find something nice to say about the barely edible food, making Clint's smile bigger than the sky.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The rest of you like you're the TSA.

Bucky kept watching you. He watched as you listened carefully to Peter's stories, and how you interacted and was fully invested. He watched as Pepper stole you to ask about a cake recipe for Morgan, which you happily provided.

Then he watched as you rejoined Natasha at the bar, picking up where you left off in the conversation with her.

It wasn't just the colors you wore that made you stand out. It was everything.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong

You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

Bucky couldn't take his eyes off you. How you listened to everyone. How you treated everyone. How swiftly you got along with everyone. How compassionate and accepting you were. How sweet you were.

And you were all his.

Bucky kept looking at you as you were walking towards him.

"I brought you another one." You said this as you put the two cups on the table. His neat whisky and your raspberry martini.

Before you could sit down, Bucky pulled you to himself, ushering for you to sit on his lap. You gladly did.

His arms came around your waist, and yours around his shoulders. Your floral scent evaded his senses. It was the opposite of his. Strong scent like the woods and black coffee.

Your pink dress clashed with his all-black outfit. You felt too bright for the dark spot he was sitting in.

Everything about the two of you didn't make any sense. Not even in the slightest. You were the polar opposite.

You were nice. He was stiff. You were friendly. He was feared. You were understanding. He was strict. You were smiley. He was sullen. You were vulnerable. He was a closed book.

You were everything he wasn't. He was everything you weren't.

There was nothing like this.

And somehow, that made you perfect.

You brought lights he had never seen in his life before. You created happiness he never thought of. You led him to feelings he didn't know existed. You gave him love, which he always claimed he was unworthy of.

You changed his life. You turned his life upside down. In the best way possible.

Bucky wished there were enough words in the world to tell you how much he loved you. Bucky wished there were enough ways he could express his gratitude for you. Bucky wished there were enough time to show you how much he cherished you.

Bucky wished that one day you would ever comprehend how your sweetness saved him. How you were everything to him

"You're too sweet for me." Bucky spoke slowly as he kissed you.

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traffic-was-a-b1tch · 3 days

Text

anthem of the heart

(jake kiszka x reader) 18+

summary: you and your best friend move into a new apartment after college, wanting a fresh start in nashville. however, you come to find that your neighbors are musicians. very loud musicians who like to keep you up at night. especially one, who likes to bother you on purpose. you would hate him… if he wasn’t so hot.

warnings for overall series: eventual SMUT!!!, angst, mentions of past abuse (not jake), abuse (not jake), mentions of past sexual assault (not jake), sexual assault (not jake), enemies to lovers, cursing, let me know if I missed any. (i’m still making this series up as I go along so it might change)

warnings for this chapter: mental struggle after SA, mentions of the SA in chapter three, therapeutic exercises, sexual tension to the max, cursing, let me know if I missed any!

author’s note: hey everyone! sorry about my inactivity! I get in writing moods some days and write 2-3 chapters in a few hours, and other days I rot in bed with no motivation lol. but thank you endlessly for the love! as always, please feel free to give me feedback, requests, comments, etc. enjoy!!!

• • •

Chapter Five:

you wanted to immediately run for the shower. your blouse was starting to stick to you; you felt so unclean. not just because you had been in the same clothes for 24 hours, but because of tanner.

before you could get to the bathroom you checked kailee’s room for her. you forgot to tell her where you were last night and knew she was probably worried sick. opening the door, you saw she wasn’t in her room.

you checked your phone and saw dozens of missed calls and texts from her. she wrote an hour ago that she was going to the police if you didn’t respond.

fuck. so that’s where she is.

you needed to call her and stop her from making a scene.

dialing her number, you thought about what to say. how could any words capture the last 24 hours? she answered within two rings and sounded frantic.

“oh my god! i’m so happy you called. are you ok?! where the hell were you last night? I called and texted with no answer. fuck, i’m even outside the police station right now!”

“kailee, i’m so sorry. please calm down. so much happened and I don’t know how to tell you-”

“don’t say another word”, she cut you off, “i’m on my way home. you can tell me everything in person.”

you sighed in relief of not having to have that conversation over the phone.

“ok, i’ll see you when you get here. I love you.”

“I love you more, houdini”, she countered and hung up.

thankful that she gave you time to decompress and think about how to tell her, you got back to business.

returning to the bathroom, you turned the water to hell levels of hot and stood in front of the mirror for a second.

fuck.

you were covered in bruises.

there was a few finger shaped ones of your arm and one big one on the bottom of your breast. you felt awful.

finally, the events of yesterday settled in your mind.

the fear of seeing tanner again hit you, and you realized you hadn’t seen him today. he was gone and you didn’t know where. this terrified you more. the unsettling notion that he might come back, surprise you when your all alone. when jake isn’t there to save you. tears were flowing down your face by now and you wiped them away.

you thought you didn’t need saving, that you could handle things yourself. but it was becoming increasingly more difficult, and you couldn’t deny that tanner would’ve done worse things to me if jake hadn’t been there to stop him.

you started to feel disappointed in yourself. you never really thanked him for helping you. you had gotten wrapped up in your frustration that you failed to express how thankful you were of him in those moments.

no more dwelling on this today, you told yourself.

stepping into the shower was relieving. the hot water running over your body and through your hair started to relax you.

you started with your hair, scrubbing shampoo all over it and into every crevice, then rinsing. next was conditioner, running it through your hair with care and rinsing.

getting a squeeze of body wash on your loofah, you started to softly wash your arms.

you breathed shakily, getting flashbacks as you ran it over the bruises. then you sped up, increasing the pressure, trying to scrub as hard as you could; trying to wash him off of you. you gasped as you panted and grunted, scrubbing so hard you were turning red.

it was never going to work.

you told yourself to calm down, to center yourself. you counted down from ten, slowing your breathing. taking a second, you turned your face under the water, letting the water wash your salty tears down the drain.

you were going to leave it all here. all his touches, all the sadness, all the anxiety.

you finished washing your body and cleansed your face. you were overwhelmed. the emotions from the interview, seeing tanner, and jake swarmed your head. you were determined to leave them all in the shower.

you were pretty much done, just basking in the hot water’s peace, when your heard a door knock.

probably kailee.

you were going to be happy to see her face after the day you had.

you got out of the shower, cutting off the water and wrapping yourself in a towel. there were more knocks, growing heavier and impatient.

you started to unlock the door and open it, groaning, “kailee, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

as it opened fully, you looked up shocked to see jake.

instantly you regretted not getting dressed, or even dried off.

“don’t tell me what to do with my panties, thank you”, he smirked.

his presence drifted in the doorway: cocky and sexy. damn.

you rolled your eyes, “oh please, jake. you wish I cared about your panties.”

it was then that he realized what you were ‘wearing’, if you could even call it that.

it was a fluffy pink towel from a dollar store back home. it was wrapped tightly around your chest, emphasizing your breasts, and only reached down to your mid thigh.

it was revealing, to say the least, and you saw his eyes as they trailed your body.

he breathed deeply, meeting your eyes, as if he had been holding his breath looking at you.

“I- um, came to return this.”

he held his hand out, offering the clip that had been in your hair last night. you forgot that you had taken it out and set it on the nightstand to try to detangle your hair.

you were knocked out of his trance, smiling and replying, “oh, right. I forgot I left that there. um, thank you.”

you reached and took it, your fingers brushing his. you waited for him to pull away, to recoil at your touch. but he stayed.

the chemistry was getting to be too much for you. you found yourself questioning: did you want space? your cramped mind said yes, begging to get a break.

or did you want him? your body screamed yes. every time you were around him you were annoyed; annoyed at his arrogance, annoyed at his loud band, annoyed that you couldn’t have him in your bed. fuck, that was a thought that haunted you as soon as you imagined it. him naked, in your arms, exploring your body.

you couldn’t decide what you wanted, but you felt the heat around you both getting hotter. too hot for comfort.

you pulled your hand away, repeating, “thank you.”

he nodded, returning to the conversation, “it’s really pretty. I knew you’d want to have it back.”

you smiled, “it’s one of my favorites. although, it seems like you would benefit from it right now.”

you glanced at his slightly messy curls, giggling softly.

it was becoming painfully obvious that both of you were dancing around what you really wanted to say to each other.

he laughed at your comment, rolling his eyes.

the sight of that made your mind betray you, imagining his eyes rolling back as you took him in your mouth. fuck, could you get any peace from this need?

jake’s eyes zeroed in on the deep red marks littering your skin, frowning.

you realized that you found your chance to let him know how appreciative you were.

“I never really thanked you for what you did. i’ve known tanner for years and knew I couldn’t overpower him. who knows what he would’ve done if you hadn’t helped.” you looked at him in genuine earnest.

he nodded, reaching out and brushing one of the marks on your shoulder, causing you to melt for him internally.

“i’m sorry I couldn’t do more.” his tone was full of regret.

you hated seeing him like this, pitying you.

“what else could you do? kiss them to make them feel better?” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

but the mood only shifted.

his eyes flicked to yours, filled with dark desire. his breathing quickened, causing yours to do the same as you saw his thoughts plastered on his face.

your mouth opened slightly, watching both of you struggle to keep your electricity at bay.

he was slipping though, stepping closer and whispering.

“is that what you want?”

oh my god.

you could barely breathe, your eyes never leaving his.

the lust that hung in the small gap between you slowly dissipated as he blinked his eyes away and stepped back. you stood there confused as he shook his head at himself.

“i’m sorry. you’ve been through a lot lately. you should get some rest.”

you swallowed your need, nodding. one part of you was thankful that he was so considerate of your mind and body after the trauma; but another part of you was aching for him.

but you knew he had made the right choice. probably.

“i’ll, uh, see you later.” he walked towards his door.

you closed yours, catching your breath. that was so charged with sexual tension that you needed to sit down.

you made your way to your couch and lowered down onto it, sighing. maybe all of this was for the best. why were you letting your life get complicated with another relationship? hell, you need to be thinking about your ex, not some guy that likes to annoy you. a really, really hot guy who likes to annoy you.

just then another knock came.

your head shot up.

he changed his mind.

running back to the door, you flung it open.

“where the fuck have you been?”, kailee gasped, engulfing you in a hug, “you have no idea how worried I was.”

• • •

the chemistry is so sickening I can’t!!!

tag list: @gvfpal @hollyco

(please let me know if anyone else would like to be on the tag list!)

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #sam kiszka #sam gvf #danny wagner #daniel wagner #danny gvf #gvf fic #gvf smut

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