#i hope everyone has been having less tears at the start of their week than me lol

[pirateprincessblog]

prefects and t(h)reats

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you haven't been lurking the castle at night since the day you cost your house a lot of points and the slytherin prefect scolded you. long enough has passed, and you might want to start doing that again. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.6k words 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: harry potter universe, slytherin!seonghwa, hufflepuff!reader, smut, bit of angst (seonghwa being a piece of shit(basic slytherin) towards the reader and her friends) 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: spanking, hair pulling, choking, finger sucking, fingering, oral (f!receiving), voyeurism, unprotected sex, semi-public?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: idk, cursing i guess 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: something got fucked in the process of posting this so if you see any repeating paragraphs do let me know my eyes aren't working anymore :D !everyone is of age, regardless of the year they are in. also, i may or may not have a finger sucking kink or whatever you call that :) also, i so did NOT use a twd negan reference here. just ignore that.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"ugh! that snape will be the reason i get sent to azkaban, mark my words! i spent ages trying to perfect that mood colour changing sweater, and he just confiscated- wait, what?"

"what, what is it?"

"did our bloody house points get deducted again?"

just your luck, you need to pass by them to get to your next class. you wish you had perfected the disillusionment charm, it would be very helpful right now.

"you."

ignoring the voice that speaks clearly to you, you hug your books to your chest and quicken your pace, attempting to ascend the stone stairs and vanish into the divination classroom. suddenly, your elbows are seized by two familiar pairs of hands, drawing you back to stand before the house points display. indeed, the hourglass under the hufflepuff banner is noticeably less full than it was just the day before. and it may or may not be your fault. again.

"listen to me, honeydukes." wayne, your fellow housemate warns.

"don't call me that!" you still struggle to understand how you acquired that nickname, especially since you rarely visit honeydukes these days. that habit faded after your teeth nearly succumbed to decay from all the cotton candy and chocolate frogs.

"if you keep this up, you are going to be the reason i end up in azkaban. got it?" he points a finger at your face, causing you to stumble back.

"you have a week to get at least twenty points back. if you don't..." the other one, justin, also points his finger at you, "...i'll make your remaining years at hogwarts miserable. we are the lousiest house anyway, why do you have to make it worse?"

"yeah, what do you even do to make us lose house points?"

"i bet she pisses off prefects."

"or bothers professors outside the class, the know-it-all."

"i don't care if you have to duel harry potter himself, you'll get those points back."

"and when you do, you'll get double and triple that, and make sure we win this year."

"it is only fair, since you're costing us so much."

with each accusation hurled at you, you retreat, hoping to flee the verbal attack before tears betray you and worsen the situation. a high pitched noise invades your ears, drowning out their voices. so intent on avoiding their accusing fingers, you fail to notice the brink of the top stair until your foot falters and balance is lost. you gasp, eyes shut, bracing for the impact of cold stone against your skull.

"levioso!"

yet it never comes. your body is stuck in the air, right above the stairs. all the noise and fuss has left the main hall, resulting in you being too scared to open your eyes.

"accio."

but you are forced to open them, ears picking up quiet murmuring, mainly coming from girls. your eyes meet dark brown ones, stone cold with a serious expression. his black swirly wand is directed at you, levitating your body through the air until you're brought back to the top of the stairs. you finally regain control of it, hands hurriedly fixing the robe and covering yourself.

"you fools." he speaks, eyes not leaving yours.

your lip trembles, and eyes well up with tears. park seonghwa is the one person you do not wish to anger and disappoint. your admiration for him hasn't stopped growing since the day he came to this school. park seonghwa, the slytherin prince. slender frame, porcelain skin, high cheekbones, sharp jawline, plump lips, dark eyes, and an immpeccable posture. he walked the castle with such grace, his cloak following him and flowing in the air behind him. whether it was magic or not, you found yourself utterly captivated, not just by his cloak, but by his very essence. he was, in a word, beautiful.

"i'm- i'm sorry-" you stutter, the sentence not yet formed in your brain. is this really how your first encounter with him will go?

"you absolute fools." he turns around, facing the two boys.

wayne and justin are now the ones stumbling back, audibly gulping. "we're sorry, seonghwa."

"all that over house points?" seonghwa scoffs in disbelief, "well, guess what? you just cost your own house fifty points."

the entire great hall gasps, not used to seeing the prefect this enraged and stern. he avoids public confrontations, curious eyes and gossipy mouths, always opting to pull the troublemakers aside to scold them. he also mostly deducts five points, ten at most. but fifty?

"show is over. go to your classes." he orders to the crowd, and they waste no time in continuing their journey to their classrooms.

overwhelmed by the unfolding situation, you find yourself unable to move. your gaze fixes on seonghwa's polished black shoes, unsure of your next action or words. your first encounter with him wasn't supposed to unfold this way. you intended to sweep him off his feet, exuding confidence and the like. embarrassing yourself and struggling to hold back tears while avoiding his gaze was never in the plan.

"hey, honeydukes. are you alright?"

"i'm fi- honeydukes?" you look at him, brows furrowed. "you know about that nickname?"

he tilts his head, chuckling. "i gave you that nickname."

"you... you gave me that nickname?! do you have any idea how freaking annoying it is..."

"okay, calm down now."

"...to be called that all day every day? even when i've stopped visiting that bloody shop..."

"listen to me."

"...it's haunting me! how dare you?!"

your protest is silenced as he steps closer, cradling your jaw in the palm of his hand to lift your face towards his. the way his dark eyes look down on you makes you feel small and fragile, only being safe because he's holding you. you swallow hard, lips pressed tightly together, not yet trusting yourself to speak.

"i gave you that nickname when i first saw you. in hogsmeade, at honeydukes. i had never seen anyone eat cotton candy so cutely, and nobody would tell me your name until recently i heard it myself. so you became honeydukes. not my fault the rest heard it from me and decided to make their own version of it."

"still..." you are stubborn, not willing to let go so easily.

"tell you what..." he reaches into his pocket, taking out something shiny. you notice it is one of those wrapped chocolate balls, and coincidentally your favorite flavour. "accept this as an apology, and stop sneaking around the library at night. you're going to cost your house more points. and us prefects our sanity."

"a candy? you're bribing me?" you scoff.

he chuckles, then puts one end of the wrapper between his pearly white teeth, while his other hand still holds your jaw. he tugs at the opposite end of the wrapper, loosening it and making the treat more accessible. letting the wrapper drop to the ground, the shiny chocolate appears all the more enticing between his slender fingers.

"open up for me."

lips slowly peeling open, you allow his slender fingers to slip past them and place the treat on your tongue.

"that's a good girl." he purrs, eyes focused on the way your tongue swirls around the chocolate and his fingers. he takes them out, and catching you by surprise, puts them inside his mouth. "well, then. you better get to class."

you nod, gulping and hugging your books to your chest. not knowing what to say to that, or what to say at all, you turn around, ready to get to your next class. but he stops you once again, playfulness evident in his voice.

"and i mean it. stop sneaking around the castle at night. not that i hate other forms of punishment, i don't think it's something you'd enjoy. besides, you need sleep, especially with the upcoming exams."

"okay."

"what? didn't quite catch that."

"yes, sir!" you yell, annoyed and already running up the stairs, almost tripping on your cloak.

"atta girl." seonghwa smiles proudly, walking in the direction of his next class.

you used to love hogsmeade. then you hated it. now, you love it again. winter has wrapped the village in a festive mood, with christmas just around the corner. streets are dripping with decorations, lights and christmas trees. enchanted instruments are singing songs on the street, people are rushing to buy presents already, and hermione and ron are bickering as always. harry walks by your side, mesmerized by the amount of lights decorating the balconies of the villagers.

"we always go get stupid butterbeers. let's try something else for once!" the girl complains, growing sick of the habit the four of you have formed when arriving at hogsmeade.

"yes, but... it's butterbeer. what else is there to try?" the ginger says, opting for the simple routine.

"merlin, i don't know! just- ugh. what do you say, honeydukes?"

ever since you told them about the incident at the great hall, they've called you nothing but that. you don't hate it anymore. if anything, it reminds you of the slytherin prefect every time you are called. and you don't hate that either.

"i think..." just as you are about to agree with hermione, your eyes notice a group of slytherins entering the three broomsticks. thus, "...ron is right. i mean, butterbeer is butterbeer."

"so bland. fine, let's go."

upon entering, you realize that you have to fight your way to the seats. it is crowded, as though all of hogwarts has chosen the same time and place for drinks. ron is stubborn, tugging hermione, who tugs you, who tugs harry. the wizard chain somehow makes it through the singing and dancing crowd, reaching the end of the tavern and big table where you usually sit. only to find the place occupied.

"hey, that's our seats!" ron complains, pointing at the slytherin boys.

"oh, no. how dare they take our unassigned assigned seats?" the girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"go on, honeydukes. say something."

you look at the boy who remained silent until now, confused. "me? why me?"

"well, it's your little boyfriend sitting there. maybe he'll listen to you."

"harry-!" before you can protest, you are nudged in front of the table, prompting all the boys at the table to halt their conversation and turn their heads to look at you. seonghwa raises an eyebrow, amused.

"what is it, half blood?" draco snickers, glancing over at seonghwa for approval. but when seonghwa doesn't acknowledge him, he settles down, hiding behind his half full glass of butterbeer.

"uh, my friends and i... we were just wondering..." you look behind at the three of them, who stand waiting politely as if you were their mother arranging a play date. "...if you could scoot over and let us have one side of the table? since it is a sharing table... and there's only four of us... and four of you. or not. i mean, if you want to. if you don't, that's fine. i'm not ordering you, i'm just... actually, we don't need it. sorry for bothering you. we'll leave now."

you turn around, cheeks and tips of ears ablaze with embarrassment. the trio looks at you with mouths open wide, wondering just what the hell happened to you.

"what the bloody hell was that?" ron says, eyebrows furrowed.

"i-"

"honeydukes?"

your body responds to his voice immediately, turning around and eyes locking into his. he smiles at you, then waves towards the seats that are now empty.

"ah, sweet!" harry cheers, and the two boys throw their belongings on the chairs and rush to the bar to order.

hermione takes a seat first, choosing a spot as far from them as possible. this leaves you with only one option: the chair next to blaise zabini, the boy who, after Seonghwa and Draco, had the most admirers. he doesn't acknowledge you, nor does anyone else, until you start gossiping with hermione and she abruptly stops mid-sentence.

"he's looking at you."

"what? who is?" your head starts to turn itself before thinking, but hermione is quick to slap your arm. "ow!"

"don't look! that prefect, seonghwa. he's looking at you so intensely. it's scary."

"like, scary scary or hot kinda scary?"

"well, i-" she stutters, not yet used to being this open with anyone yet. "the latter."

the boys arrive, ron holding the drinks and harry holding bowls of snacks. they almost throw them on the table, and ron doesn't even wait to sit before taking a big sip of his drink. harry digs into his loaded chips, not intending on offering anyone a bite or two.

the conversation at the other end of the table ceases, causing ron to set his glass down and harry to stop trying to fit the entire bowl into his cheeks. you look at both ends, the situation looking funny, especially with hermione looking embarrassed next to you. the slytherin boys exude sophistication, taking delicate sips of their drinks, sharing a bowl of spicy chili treats, conversing in hushed tones, and maintaining an overall neat and respectful demeanor. the gryffindor boys are a complete contrast; ron with his butterbeer moustache, harry with sauce smeared on his cheek, both flushed and almost reeking of sweat already.

"wufnt sum?" harry says with his mouth full, nudging his half empty bowl towards the other group.

they all look at the prefect, as if he decides whether they can have some or not. "no, thank you, potter. you seem to be enjoying it too much for me to take it away from you. i'd feel bad."

 the groups snickers, and something twitches inside of you. seeing the prefect's cocky and arrogant smile, your interest in him falters. he's no longer looking at you, not even sparing you glances. entertaining his group and bullying the gryffindor boys seemed to be way more interesting. and you've had enough of it.

"so... nice moustache weasley."

"right, we get it." you almost yell, causing them to stop and turn their heads at you. "you're all so smart, and perfect, and purebloods, and we are just laughing stock. i don't need to listen to this, and neither do they."

"oh, feisty." draco comments, earning a glare from seonghwa.

"right, honeydukes. i apologize for my behaviour." the dark haired slytherin smiles at you, but your face stays the same.

"it's not me you should be apologizing to."

"are you dense? how dare you talk to him like that?" the young boy doesn't give up, wanting to fight you no matter what.

"malfoy, sit back." seonghwa says, putting a hand on draco's chest. "potter, weasley. i apologize for my comments."

"'s alright."

"yeah, no worries." they mumble, gazes locked on the table.

awkward silence swallows your corner of the tavern, with the people only staring at the middle of the table and only breathing. seonghwa then slides the untouched bowl of chili treats in the middle, causing the group to look at him.

"how about a game? you know, that muggle one, never have i ever? for each thing that you did, you need to eat a handful of these. you in, gryffindor?"

eager to prove themselves, they straighten their clothes and backs, and focus. hermione sits back, arms stubbornly crossed over her chest. ron nudges her with his elbow, and she rolls her eyes and joins in.

"hufflepuff?" the dark eyed boy tilts his head.

"sure, whatever."

"alright, then. game on."

it starts with innocent questions, such as cheating on exams and gossips. then, it progressively gets more serious and more...

"never have i ever made out with someone in the astronomy tower?"

sexual.

you are not shocked to see that blaise and seonghwa are taking a handful of the spicy treats, but your jaw drops when ron and hermione do the same, exchanging a single glance before blushing and shoving the handful in their mouths. harry shares his surprise with you, jaw equally hanging.

"well, well. little miss granger." seonghwa teases. "good job, ron boy."

"never have i ever... done more than dry humping in an empty owlery?" harry surprises the table with his question.

"what?! you've done that?!" hermione is almost in his face, surprised how she didn't know this about her best friend.

"i might've..." the chosen one smiles, wasting no time in burning his tongue with the treats once again.

your side of the table seems to retreat after that question, the slytherin boys asking about things you didn't ever think of. things that would have dubmbledore kick you out of the school, through the very same astronomy tower everyone seems to mention. the game eventually grows into a conversation, discussing who their favorite partner was, what their most risky situation was, and who they have an eye on recently.

"what about you, honeydukes?" blaise asks, using seonghwa's nickname for you. it just doesn't hit the same.

"what about me?"

"nothing to share? no risky business, no partners, no bad sexual experiences? i mean, have you had any experience at all?"

"of course i have. i'm not a virgin, if that's what you're implying. i've had more bad ones than good ones. having me jerk someone off under the desk while learning about amortentia wasn't exactly my cup of tea."

"oh, you poor thing." draco coos, mockingly.

they all eventually let go, and when you realize that seonghwa hasn't made a comment about you in a while, you look at him. he is already observing you, his expression unreadable. his eyes roam your face, then your hair, and finally your clothes. you feel small under his intense gaze, and you find yourself squirming on the wooden chair. when his eyes catch yours, he blinks, then looks away.

after a morning of intense studying, practicing flying, and rushing to hogsmeade for potions supplies for the exam tomorrow, you end up sleeping the entire afternoon. when you wake up, it is dark. you hate wasting days, especially because winter ones are so short. you haven't done anything fun for yourself these few weeks, only studying and avoiding the slytherin prefect.

he might've noticed, or perhaps not. you've noticed a few glances here and there, but the hogsmeade encounter made your feelings for him fade. it wasn't a major crush after all, just simple admiration. maybe liking. regardless, he doesn't get in your way. meaning, it might be safe to have one of those late night adventures through the castle. your disillusionment charm has improved, and you'll finally put it to good use.

wearing nothing but your yellow sleeping attire, you slip out of the dormitory and head to the library. the ghosts don't bother you, even if you didn't cast the charm yet. they must've found another victim, especially peeves. that bastard.

no prefect in sight either, which makes you wonder if you're really being that subtle and successful in your late night escapade. perhaps they're toying with you, letting you reach the doors of the library just to stop you and punish you.

yet, it doesn't happen. not when you reach the door, not when you slip past them, and not when you reach the restricted section.

"lumos." you chant, then put the handle of the wand between your teeth so you can see the shelves better.

how sad, you think, sneaking out at night only to come to a library.

mid book browsing, you hear footsteps. hurriedly twirling your wand around yourself, you cast the charm, and crouch.

"nox," you whisper, the wand no longer emitting light from its tip.

the footsteps get closer, with faint whistling being heard. whoever it is, they're either completely oblivious, or they're just keeping you at the edge before revealing themselves.

"little pig, little pig..." the voice sings, and you gasp.

the slytherin prince himself roams the library's forbidden section, each footstep sounding closer to you. you get on your hands and knees, crawling among the shelves in search for a way out. but from this perspective, everything looks different. after all, this isn't your usual view.

"let," step, "me," step, "in."

a hand grabs your hair from behind, pulling your head back just enough to make you yelp. the disillusionment charm wears off, and you groan, defeated.

"well, well. if it isn't the innocent little hufflepuff. no wonder i've been craving sweet since i entered the library."

"will you let go of me?"

"oh, sure thing." he softens his grip, giving you just a taste of freedom before yanking your head again, "what's the magic word? you know, that muggle one?"

"please, please!" you yelp, hands wrapping around his wrist in hopes of convincing him to let go.

he does, then steps back to give you space so you can get up. fixing your sleepwear, you fail to see his amused grin as he stares at you. when you finally look up at him, he has his usual prefect serious face on.

"now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"sorry, it won't happen again." you should tattoo that on yourself next time you're in muggle world, it comes like a good morning to you. "i'll see myself out."

"oh, no, no." the man stops you, grabbing your elbow. "you don't get away with a sorry. not anymore. remember what i said last time?"

"uh... something about different forms of punishment?" you remember.

"that's right. good girl." his voice seems to drop a few octaves, causing you to subconsciously squeeze your thighs together. "now, how many?"

"what?"

"how many?"

"how many what?"

"spanks, sweetheart."

"you're-" you choke on your spit, "you're going to spank me?"

"oh, would you rather lose points? again?" he tilts his head, fake worry painted on his features.

"well, no, but-"

"deducting points doesn't seem to work on you anyways. i'll have to try a different approach. usually works." he steps towards you, making you step back.

"usually? you uh... you spank other people?" you dare ask.

"why?" he continues his slow steps.

"just asking."

"jealous?"

"why would i be?"

"i don't know." he shrugs, then looks around checking for intruders. "a little bird told me you have a crush on me."

your back hits the shelves, and you gasp. he stops in front of you, still maintaining a small distance. you stutter, not knowing what to say. do you have a crush on him?

"i certainly don't."

"oh." he furrows his eyebrows, "you sure?"

"yes." your voice comes out raspy, and you clear your throat. "yes, absolutely."

"honeydukes?"

"yes?"

"are you trying to convince yourself, or me?"

"i don't have a crush on you, seonghwa." you try to sound as convincing as possible.

"good. then, this interaction won't have any side effects besides teaching you a lesson. now, how many?"

you want to say a small number, like two or three. but if it happens to feel good, you won't have the guts to ask for more. oh how foolish, how can spanking be good?

"tick-tock, hufflepuff. if you don't decide, i will for you. and trust me, you do not want that."

he isn't touching you, hell, he isn't even looking at you. yet he has power over you like nobody ever had before, making you stand still against the bookshelves and wait for his instructions.

"ten," you simply say.

"ten? not one, two?" seonghwa is surprised with your answer, figuring you'd choose a smaller number.

"i didn't think you'd accept one or two. or would you?"

"smart girl. no, i wouldn't. now, what was your favorite subject again? charms, herbology?"

"dark arts," you reply, catching him off guard once again. of course he didn't see it coming. you're sneaking out to go to a library, you're a hufflepuff for merlin's sake, and you stand here in front of him, looking up at him with those wide innocent eyes of yours. who would guess dark arts?

"well, then," he swirls his black wand around both of you, turning you invisible once again, "lead the way, honeydukes."

and you do, having him follow you all the way to the defence against the dark arts classroom. you'd be lying if you said nervous sweat hasn't washed you over three times by the time you reach it. when the door closes, it's like time stops. this is it.

"won't umbridge hear? what if she's still in her office?" you whisper.

"muffliato." he simply casts, sparks flying between the desks, up the staircase at the end of the classroom, and through the doors of umbridge's office. "go on."

you keep walking, all the way to her desk. seonghwa plunges on the comfy professor's chair, then motioned for you to step closer. you barely step close to him, and he pushes you over his lap, causing you to squeak unintentionally. you hold onto his thigh, the position not the most comfortable one.

"count." the slytherin prefect demands.

his big hand lands on your bottom, making you jolt. "one."

his other hand rests on the small of your back, keeping you still so you stop squirming. only three more spanks later, you're already shuffling uncomfortably.

"two, three, four," you say, voice slowly cracking.

"but i'm barely halfway there yet, my hufflepuff princess. don't break on me just yet." he coos, voice soft and comforting, a great contrast to his actions.

you sniff, hand hurriedly wiping a tear that threatened to escape. seonghwa doesn't halt, even if he saw that. instead, he spanks you harder and harder, sparing no inch of your skin of the burning sensation.

"five, six, seven." you shudder, bracing yourself for more. only three more.

"almost there, sweetheart. you're doing so good for me." his other hand caresses your hair, removing it from your face and letting it fall aside. seeing you all teared up and flushed, something new sparks inside of him. "so pretty."

he can't help himself, his hand abusing your sore bottom, exceeding the amount that you both agreed on. you keep counting, not asking him to stop. he lands a final one, deciding it is enough once you let out the first cry.

"t-twenty," you sob, hiding your face in his black slacks.

when his hand touches your bottom again, you expect it to be another hit. instead, his hand caresses it, helping to soothe the pain. it lasts mere seconds, before you feel him raise the top of your pajama, then pull on the bottom. he exposes your red bottom to the cool classroom air, and you can't help but whine at the loss of contact.

"you did so good, my love." seonghwa coos, fingers running through your hair as he waits for you to collect yourself.

once you do, you realize that the burning sensation isn't only on your butt cheeks. you also feel it between your legs, briefs soaked with arousal.

"did you learn the lesson?" his hand finds its spot under your chin, raising your head so he can look at you properly.

"yes." you say, failing to maintain eye-contact with him. maybe it's the guilt, or maybe simply the way he looks at you. either way, you opt to stare at his perfectly ironed and buttoned up prefect attire.

"want me to make it feel better?"

you shrug, not quite sure what you wanted anyway. his hand slips from under your chin to your neck, catching you off guard, his fingers squeezing the sides of it. he presses lightly into your skin, the other hand adjusting your bottom so that it is higher up and your core easily accessible. a moan escapes your lips, feeling his digits find your clit so easily.

"oh, you poor thing. you're absolutely soaked. is that why you're crying? not from the pain, but from lack of attention?"

when you don't reply, he only chuckles, pressing into your neck more.

"i'll take good care of you, honeydukes."

he moves your briefs aside, digits circling your clit softly, before slipping into your aching hole. you bite into the fabric of his pants, but he stops you, instead offering his finger to bite on. he still holds onto your neck with his thumb and the rest of the fingers, his index finger popped into your mouth to muffle any noise you have to offer him.

hearing your own hole squelch as his fingers pump in and out of you makes a new rush of arousal wash over your folds. his fingers are long, very long. he curves them, spreads them, then removes them from your hole, only to spread your slick all over your clit and abuse it.

you're a drooling mess on his lap, eyes turning back at the pure pleasure he is gracing you with. your hips hopelessly push back, looking for anything to fill you up. he notices, removing his hand from your core, before standing you up and pushing you to sit on the desk. with a single motion, he shreds your briefs to bits, stuffing them into his pocket and attaching his mouth to your aching core.

you fall back on the desk, head hanging from it and overlooking the empty classroom. your brain creates various images for you as seonghwa's hot tongue swipes across your folds, imagining the classroom full of students as seonghwa feasts on you in front of them. were you weird for that?

"not at all, princess."

"stop reading my mind, prefect." you tug on his hair, a form of punishment for intruding your thoughts.

"can't help it, not when you're dripping all over my face."

his fingers find their way into your clenching hole again, curling upwards and finding a spot nobody ever had before. a moan escapes you, echoing through the classroom, and your other hand pushes seonghwa's head further into your cunt.

he chuckles against you, his own hands holding your thighs so you don't suffocate him. you feel yourself inching closer, hips desperately grinding on his mouth and nose, eager to feel a proper orgasm. he pulls away once again, making you whine and groan.

"my, i've spoiled you." he raises an eyebrow, amused at the glares you're sending him. he stands up, working on his zipper. he doesn't take his pants off, deciding to keep his prefect uniform on. it only makes the situation hotter, your brain finally realizing just what you're doing.

you're messing with a prefect, in the middle of the night, in a classroom, right under a professor's nose.

"kiss me." you ask, voice small. red paints your cheeks; you wanted to sound more confident than that.

"you want to taste yourself on my tongue, princess?"

"yes, please."

"since you asked so nicely."

he helps you stand again, hands firm on your waist, and lips finally attached to yours. your arms wrap around his neck, hungrily bringing his body closer to yours. you indeed taste yourself on his tongue, seonghwa not wasting a second in pushing through your soft lips in search for your hot muscle. the sound of kissing echoes in the classroom, the setting hotter than your wildest dreams. seonghwa is a dreamy kisser, making you feel wanted, hot and appreciated at the same time. his lips never leave yours, not even when your fingers tangle in his hair and pull at it with ecstasy. he only moans softly into your mouth, giving you a wave of confidence.

your hand slides down his chest, to the button of his pants, and finally to the zipper. you reach into it, pulling his hard cock out, before giving it a few slow pumps. he sighs into your lips, pulling away for a few moments. his forehead rests against yours, his body falling in control of your one hand. your thumb swipes over the tip, collecting the slick and spreading it over him. his hips rock with your hand, whines and moans deliciously filling your ears. it feels powerful to have him tremble in your hands, desperate and yearning for your touch and attention. this must be what he feels on a daily basis. and it must feel fucking amazing.

"you're full of surprises, aren't you?" he teases, and you tease back by squeezing his cock. he gasps, but chuckles regardless. "you're just a little brat, waiting to be stuffed like a bad girl. i know it."

with a swift motion, seonghwa turns you around, your still clothed tits pressing against the hard wooden desk and head pushed on the side. he slides into you without warning or teasing, so easily and perfectly. he wastes no time in holding your hips still, smashing his own into you and burying his cock deep in your hole. your walls swallow each inch he offers you, having both of you moan and groan at the pleasure.

"fuck-" he curses, eyes planted on the place where the two of you connect. "fuck, honeydukes- you're going to be the death of me."

"do you- ah!" he snaps his hips into yours once again, each thrust more forceful than the other, "do you do this with others sneaking out at night?"

"i knew you were jealous. so you do have a little crush on me?" he chuckles breathlessly.

"maybe. and maybe." you groan, hands gripping the edges of the desk.

"no, baby. i don't. you're the only one whose cunt i'm going to fill up, again and again. until you've learned your lesson properly."

it is your turn to chuckle now. "if this is your form of punishment, i might start sneaking around while you're on duty more often."

"oh, my hufflepuff princess. if you want me, you can have me any time you want. all day, every day. all you have to do is ask."

the conversation stops, as do his hips, when the doors on top of the stairs open.

"who's there?"

you try looking back at seonghwa, eyes full of fear. his cock twitches in your hole, the riskiness of the situation arousing to him.

"hush, love." he whispers, hand pushing your head down against the cold wood again.

his hips start moving gently, slowly stretching your hole again. you're in shock, not believing that he'd actually continue as the professor walks down the stairs in her own sleeping attire. her eyes skim over the room, trying to find anything unusual. but the silencing spell seems to be working, just like the disillusionment one, making umbridge unaware of your presence. a very... lewd presence.

"merlin, i can't take it anymore. i'm sorry, love."

not giving you a chance to ask why he's apologizing, you soon learn as his hand pulls your hair back and his other one grips your bruised bottom. his hips snap into yours with speed and accuracy, hitting the right spots and bringing you closer to release.

"seonghwa-" you moan.

"yes, love?"

"i want-" you moan again, then beg, "i want to see you, touch you."

he pulls away, helping your limp body in a different position. the professor is ignored, even when she comes dangerously close to the desk. it sends a new wave of arousal to your core, just in time for seonghwa to slide into you again.

"look at that," he sighs, looking at your belly.

you follow his gaze, seeing the outline of his cock on it. your hands bring his head closer so you can kiss him, with equal hunger as before. he continues pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm.

"right, there better not be anyone. i'm not in the mood for any tricks!" umbridge threatens, causing both of you to chuckle into each others mouths.

"this is kind of hot," you admit.

"as much as it is, i want her to go away as soon as possible. i just can't cum when i see her face."

you laugh, glancing at the professor one more time. as if she heard, she listens, angrily stomping upstairs and slamming the door shut.

"uh, speaking of temperatures, i know this is crazy, but i am feeling a bit chilly." you admit, the winter air entering the classroom and hitting your naked skin. after all, you were only in your thin sleepwear, having heavy covers on your bed that kept you warm. seonghwa wastes no time in taking off his prefect cloak, helping you put it on and planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you look beautiful in green, my pretty hufflepuff."

blush paints your cheeks, his scent enveloping you and sending a fresh batch of butterflies to your stomach. you never noticed it before, but he smells of forest moss and after rain stone, with a hint of potions ingredients. it is intoxicating, entering your organism and threatening to never leave.

"oh, merlin," seonghwa throws his head back, lost in pure pleasure as your hole swallows him, the outline of his cock on your belly adding to it all and helping him get closer to his goal. "fuck- fuck-"

he's absolutely dashing, a thin layer of sweat shining on his face and making his dark locks stick to his forehead. his lips are plump from you biting and sucking on them, slightly parted and letting out little gasps and moans. he unbuttons the first few buttons of his uniform, not having a problem with the cold. you're a moaning mess, just like him, completely letting go of every thought you had until now, simply giving yourself to him and admiring him.

you feel full of him, and just when you thought you couldn't feel fuller, seonghwa hisses, spilling his load in you and creating more squelching sounds as he rides out his orgasm, pushing in and out of you sloppily.

it doesn't take long for you to reach your own, the knot in your stomach exploding as his tip slams mercilessly into your soft spot, making you grip his arms, shoulders, hair, anything you could reach. he works you through your high, not missing a single face or sound you make.

you're exhausted, struggling to catch your breath. the recovery lasts longer than usual, seonghwa having wrecked you inside out. his hands gently remove your hair from your face so he can take a good look at you.

"you're good, love. breathe." he coos, caressing your cheek and blowing into your face to cool you off.

"thank you," you blurt out.

"what for?" the slytherin prefect laughs at your innocence.

"i don't know. this, i guess. i've never enjoyed sex, always saw it as a chore. and i never felt desired, just objectified."

"well," the dark haired slytherin pecks your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, "you don't have to worry about that anymore. i've never desired anyone the way i desire you, and i think i just proved it to you how much. you don't have to fear those things with me anymore."

"park seonghwa, are you subtly asking me to be your girlfriend?" you shyly ask, knowing that you might be wrong and embarrass yourself in front of him. to your relief, he pecks your lips once again.

"perhaps. only if you want to. if not, then i'm not asking."

"perhaps i want to."

"perhaps that makes me happy."

"you're crazy." you laugh, and he joins.

seonghwa does one more thing no other partner has ever done for you; he helps you get cleaned, then dressed, and walks you to the doors of your common room.

"if you do decide to sneak off again, please do let me know. wouldn't want other prefects to find you and steal your heart."

you nod, and with a longer kiss, finally part ways with him. he waits until you finish your usual rhythmic tapping on the barrels, until the doors open, and finally, until you disappear into your common room and back to the dormitory.

you notice the sun already rising, and hurry to jump back in bed.

"excuse me? is that a slytherin cloak on you?"

you freeze in your tracks, the cloak ready to slide off you and hide under your pillow. the girl on the bed to your left doesn't give up, now sitting up and staring at you wide eyed.

"and a prefect one too?!" the voice on the right joins, waking up the rest of the room and bringing attention to you.

fuck.

taglist: @hongthoven @itza-meee @onedumbho3 @chngbnwf @mxnsxngie @yunhowooyo @m3chigo @trivia-134340 @sanniesaur @shiningpaint-marbleheart @hyphenen @iweirdthingsblog @moonm1st @hwxbibi @jjoongstar @dawn-iscozy @callmeagardengnome @arson1893 @n1k1mura @ishz @hwa-stars @prettyjewel93 @hongjoongsprincess @fireseo @milkandoranges @kibs-and-bits @kitten4sannie @yuujismom @dianadiaries @teawithcherrypie @morethingsfandom

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x muggle fem!reader

Summary: Three weeks after his devastating break up with Lily, James wanted Remus and Sirius to bring him to a muggle bar in central London.

Genre: Fluff / prequel to my fic Timeless / pt.2 Sweeter Than Fiction

Warnings: swearing, mentions of injury, intoxication

Remus has warned him him has always had a flair for the dramatics.

"I mean, why did I even like her?" James slurs loudly as he slams his whiskey glass onto the counter, white foam spilling over his hand, and he curses.

Remus rests his hand on James's arm to shush him and he glances over at Sirius with a concerned expression for their friend. "Prongs, you promised you were okay," his eyebrows quirk and, crossing his arms, he looks at James with a saddened expression.

James's eyes just narrow and he nods his head furiously, "I am okay," He insists, "I just don't understand why – "

When James flings out his arms in exasperation, his hand accidentally collides with your hip as you pass by. All the wine glasses you had been balancing on your tray suddenly shatter to the ground with a loud crash. Sirius and Remus hurry to stand as the spilled alcohol barely misses their trousers.

"Oh my, I'm so sorry," You say, clearly embarrassed as you kneel down and frantically pick up the shards of glass as everyone turns to stare.

"Woah," James cries as he jumps up. Just as he starts to warn you not to hurt yourself, you cut your palm and hiss in pain. James is immediately kneeling next to you and, with a movement unusually delicate for someone so drunk, moves to hold your wrist in his hand, "Shit, that looks nasty." He mutters.

You look at him, "Yeah, it hurts like a bitch," you say plainly and stand. James drops your wrist. Sirius hands you a napkin and you press it to the wound.

James stands next to you now and you look at all three of them. "I'm sorry again, I hope I didn't spill any on you. Shit, I'm gonna lose my job for this," you look away, your hair falling in front of your eyes as you groan.

"No. Don't worry. We aren't hurt or anything, right guys?" James exclaims, again a little too aware for someone so drunk and slaps Sirius on his back.

Sirius frowns and sends him a knowing look but smiles at you reassuringly as Remus nods. "So, you really shouldn't get in trouble and," James adds, "Hey, I don't think you're okay…" His train of thought seems interrupted by the amount of blood on the napkin.

You glance down, eyes widening, "Oh, shit yeah," you tilt your head up, feeling heat rise in your cheeks, and look at them bashfully, "Fuck, ah—sorry I keep cursing. This just hurts a lot. I think I have to clean go it."

James eyebrows crease for a moment as he watches you turn around and quickly walk away, the bloody napkin still pressed to your hand.

"Oh," his eyes light up like a child when you turn around and address them over the loud bar, "Thank you," you say with a smile and while he's unsure why you're thanking him, his stomach fills with a thousand butterflies.

"You're doing it again," Sirius mutters, sipping his drink as he stares at his friend.

"Hmm?" James doesn't tear his eyes away from you until you disappear behind some curtains into a back room.

"You have that look on your face, the one you wear right before you do something stupid," Remus finishes sternly.

James's eyes roll, acting less drunk than he seemed earlier. Almost as if you sobered him up a little.

"Oh please," he lies, "When have I ever done anything stupid?"

* * *

James leans against the brick of the building, a cigarette in his mouth. His cheeks are flushed from the cold air as he looks around. The street is dimly lit and barely anyone is around at this time of night.

He smiles as he pulls the cigarette from his mouth. He had convinced Remus and Sirius to let him have a smoke outside. Something told him you would be out here. James has always been lucky with that sort of thing.

Tonight proves him right because he sees you leave out the backdoor. Your hand seems to be bandaged as you delicately shut the door. You're bundled up in a scarf and a coat that looks a little oversized. James wonders if that means you have a partner. He moves away from the wall and walks over.

"Hi," he clears his throat, making you jump.

You turn around and he can tell you're trying to recognize him in the darkness but then your eyes widen. "Oh, hi!" you exclaim, your voice coming out a little squeaky as you push down your scarf a little. "Can I help you?" you ask him.

James smiles and shakes his head. "I just wanted to apologize," he pauses when he sees your expression shift into confusion, "I'm the one that caused you to slip and hurt yourself. Here?" he adds and holds out his hand to sit on the curb.

He can tell you hesitate to follow him. Understandably. You don't take his hand but you walk with him further away from the building. You sit down and James leans his hands on his knees as he looks at you. "M'name is James. Potter, James Potter."

You laugh, smoothing a hand down your jeans, "You say that like James Bond," you smile but your smile drops when James doesn't look like he understands the reference. You don't mention it. "My name is Y/n Y/l/n, it's nice to meet you, James Potter."

"I hope you don't mind me asking this but you aren't fired are you?"

You shake your head, "Oh, no, thankfully." You look up at him a little bashfully, "I was just more worried than I should have been. I'm not the best at this job."

"Mmm, don't say that. You wouldn't have dropped the tray if I hadn't bumped you," James says reassuringly.

"I'm just clumsy," you chuckle. James smirks a little and tilts his head.

"Do you want to go out tomorrow? I know a good restaurant." He says it so bluntly you can't help but stare at him like he's grown two heads.

"What?"

"I wanna take you out," James pauses, backtracking as his cheeks burn pink, "If you'd like."

Your mind seems to be racing uncontrollably and James feels a little guilty. He doesn't want to pressure you. Could he have misread something? Or maybe he'd just imagined it all.

He stands up and dusts his pants. Usually, James wouldn't be one to up so easily but if he'd learned anything from Lily — persistence isn't the way into someone's heart.

"Wait," you stand up with him, looking into his eyes, "I would love to go out with you." You smile so wide your eyes squint and something in James's chest stirs as he can't help but smile at yours.

You laugh and it's contagious. Then, you walk up to James and rummage through your bag. Once you find your pen you scribble your number onto his palm with difficulty. "This looks much easier in the movies," you mumble with the cap in your mouth. James chuckles, looking at his palm to make sure he can read every number clearly.

"Call me?" you whisper, tucking your pen back into your bag as you look up at James.

"I will," he says, and one day later (he only waited that long because he couldn't figure out how to work the muggle phone) he does.

[icanttakethemonmyown]

No because I also started almost sobbing at Death and her aura when watching sandman. Like if she were to greet me and tell me it's my time to go, I would feel so safe. I'm crying just thinking about it now.

Because if you think about, the only things that ties all of us humans together and we will ALL experience at some point is being born and dying. And almost everyone is afraid of death because we don't know what's waiting for us. So imagine being terrified and then meeting ✨her✨. I would feel so safe and alright to cross.

just the idea of being met with that utter comfort and the action of passing over being portrayed as this very calm, natural thing (even if the death itself wasn't) brings me so much joy, as someone who has lost a loved one and as someone who will (obviously) also die eventually

like i think about the scene of the old man and his violin on a weekly basis, i swear. storytelling at its finest! neil gaiman deserves every accolade he has ever gotten and then some!

[byproducts-of-my-imagination]

Everyone Hates Todo Except You

The best part about Todo is that you don’t have to put yandere in front of him because his normal behavior already screams delusional and obsessive.   You cannot convince me that he doesn’t sniff all your things as soon as you’re not looking.  He’s just so intense.  I love this man, need to catch up on jjk.

~1k words. Thank you to whoever requested this and I hope you enjoy!

At the Kyoto branch, nobody really bothers sticking their nose in Todo’s business.  But when there’s an enormous mound of trash bags outside his room that just keeps getting bigger, concerning glances and eyebrow raises no longer cut it.  Normally his antics earn a side eye or two, but lately it’s been a little much, even for him.  At the breakfast table the next day, the girls decide to draw straws to see who has to tell him to move his shit.

“It’s not fair!  Why do I have to do it?”  Miwa groans, cursing her bad luck for the thousandth time.  

“It is fair, you just happened to draw the short straw now go deal with it!  We'll back you up.”  Mai grins, knowing full well she rigged it.

Kasumi Miwa would rather be doing literally anything else at this moment.  She timidly knocks on the door, and says, “Todo?  Could you move all this stuff please?  You’re starting to block the hallway.”

“Yeah I’ll get to it whenever I get the rest of this junk cleaned up.  Don’t worry there’s no food waste so there shouldn’t be any smell.”

“B-but Todo…. It's been almost a week now…”  The only response was the muted sound of shuffling.

Miwa looks back in defeat at her so-called “back up” as they peek from behind the corner.  Their best bet now is to get one of the boys to convince him.  And if they fail it’s straight to Utahime-sensei.  

Todo looks at his room, emptier than it’s ever been.  He knew this was the likeliest outcome.  Takada-chan was a beloved idol, and even if she liked him back (which he thought she might have at some point) there was no way she could be with him.  He knew, but it doesn't mean it hurt any less.  There were years of carefully collected merch, thousands of dollars being stuffed into trash bags to be thrown away.  But instead of the despair he carefully denied for years, he didn’t feel any loss throwing away all the autographed posters and pictures.  No, he had something much better now, someone who could actually be with him in this wretched, boring world.  He had his wonderful, gorgeous, beautiful, perfect in every way girlfriend.  And while you weren’t aware that you were destined to be with him yet, he would make sure you’d know soon.  As soon as he finished purging his space of Takada-chan (it wouldn’t do to have pictures of an old flame) he’d confess.  

A few days later he was tying up the last trash bag, ready to enact his plan.  He asked you to meet him under the largest tree in the forest on the edge of the training field.  Several hypothetical scenarios floated through his mind, and he focused on the one where you’d enthusiastically said you loved him back and then he married you and had many children.  As he neared the confession site, Todo felt yet another arrow go through his heart as you came into view.  I’ll never get tired of seeing her.

“Todo, is everything okay?  What’s up?”  A shiver ran down Todo’s spine, goosebumps rising.  God, even your voice was perfect.

“I love you.  Promise me, y/n.  That we’ll spend the rest of our lives together.”  He got down on one knee like a proposal, looking up at you like a devout follower.

“Todo… I don’t know about the rest of our lives but why don’t we start with a date?  I like you too.”  While you were a bit taken aback by his forwardness, you brush it off as Todo being Todo.  You never disliked his honesty and unabashedness.

“My girlfriend!! I knew you felt the same!”  A single tear ran down Todo’s face.   

Back to the dorms, it wasn’t long before everyone found out and congregated at your room to badger you with questions.  

“Ugh that gorilla?  You guys are dating now?”  Nishimiya asked, firmly believing Todo to be an improper and inadequate boyfriend.  

“I thought he only had eyes for that idol Takado or whatever,” Miwa chimes.

“It’s Takada,” Mai corrects, not able to make eye contact with Nishimiya’s suspicious glance in her direction. 

“We’re dating now!  He just asked me out, and he’s really good to me.” you reply, thinking of how Todo insisted on carrying you back to the dorms, gently setting you down before running off saying he needed to ‘prepare’.  

“You can do way better than Todo, trust us.” The girls all nod in agreement.  However, Todo is outside your room balancing a tray of perfectly cooked lunch and a cold pitcher of water.  

“What are you guys talking about?”  he knows already, but wants to hear them say it to his face.  

“How y/n is too good for the likes of you.”  Mai minces no words for Todo.  With the uncomfortable tension rising, the Kyoto girls hastily make an exit.  

“My love, I made lunch for us.  I know I am not handsome, or come from wealth and a good sorcerer family like some of our classmates.  But I will be devoted.  I will never stray from you, I’d die if you asked me to.”  he says, as he sets the meal on your small desk, pulling out utensils and napkins.  His normal confidence seems to waver a bit, and it seems that not even Todo is immune to worrying about what other people think of him.  

“Todo, don’t worry about what they say and please don’t say you’ll die for me.  I like you a lot, I wouldn’t have accepted your confession if I didn’t.  I also think you’re quite handsome.”  

“You love me back?”  he whispers, kneeling at the edge of your bed, looking up at you.  While it’s a bit too early to tell, Todo’s hopeful, reverent look has you obliging him. 

“I do love you back.”  He embraces you, and you can hear his heartbeat in his bare chest.  It feels good to be loved so wholeheartedly, and you’ll give him all the love you have to repay him.  

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 3

Previous Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But goddamn, Oliver Quick was a fucking close runner-up.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, slight mention of blood, sexual harassment, Felix is delulu and kind of a pig, Reader just wants some fucking peace, Michael is Michael and the best, Oliver is Oliver (the worst)

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who commented and reblogged! I didn't expect this story to gain so many readers, and this was a challenging chapter to write - but only because there were some scenes I couldn't add because it would have gotten too long otherwise.

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

You really wanted to kick yourself in the pants for making such a fucking cheesy wish at night watching the stars with Michael.

Right now, you were leaning to rest your head against a bookshelf in a slant position. You had a splitting migraine that began from the moment you woke up and worsened with nausea from your tutorial. And you couldn’t even go back to your dorm for the rest of the day because your lab course for your gen-ed didn’t allow for absences.

“What’d she do now?” came a voice on your right.

You looked to the right and were blinded by a white and blue-striped button-down shirt with short sleeves tucked into a pair of tan khaki pants.

Your knight-in-silver-framed glasses, Michael Gavey, everyone.

All the guy was missing was a pocket protector with pens and tape wrapped around the bridge, and he would have matched every bullied kid in every high school movie set in the 80s.

You turned around to lean your back against the bookshelves and slowly lowered yourself until your butt was parallel to your feet. Blowing the stray hairs out of your face, you remembered to take deep breaths to prevent you from blowing up at your only friend.

“No,” you sighed, “well – yes, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Do you love your classes? Yes. Was Daria Martin still your art teacher, and did she still like you? Yes. Are the rest of your teachers mostly assholes that think all Americans are Appalachian hill-billies? Also, yes. But were you still not excelling and scoring in the top ten after every exam? Naturally, no doubt about it.

But were you as invisible and unnoticed as you were before the break came? No. Did anyone with a pulse give you side-eyed glances after your stunt with the 24/7 shit-faced He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named? Pretty much, yes. Did most of your problems come from one mythic bitch in a 5’3” flesh suit that had the ‘Juicy’ logo plastered on her ass? Namely, one in particular, Annabel – who was your assigned student partner in your tutorial.

Was your new name among the student body now “Psycho Bitch”? …Unfortunately, yes.

…Okay, so this term has not been going as well as you had hoped during the break.

Annabel hated you – like hated-HATED you. And you had no idea why.

You were pretty sure you were less than blank air to her last term, but now she was determined to make your life a living hell. Last term, she skipped every other session to do whatever Annabel did. But now, it felt like she came to every tutorial for the opportunity to tear apart your work.

You’re pretty confident she was the one who started your new “name” about a few weeks ago when the weather began to warm up.

It’s not as if you were a stranger to being picked and prodded by the people born with silver spoons on their tongues and blessed with golden-tipped wings. You were a public-school kid from grades K-12 who went to Townsend Harris for those last four years. Townsend Harris High School was a public school, but make no mistake – it was just as full of the same bullshit hierarchy that made up every private school in Manhattan.

"Open the doors to all. Let the children of the rich and the poor take their seats together and know of no distinction save that of industry, good conduct, and intellect."

What crock. You only survived those years because every kid knew that your dad was an NYU professor who knew the Dean of Admissions of Columbia. You couldn’t recall how often you wished you had joined your friends at Flushing High or even Bayside.

However, regardless of the snide snarks and bullshit snickers pointed at you, you were left alone for the most part.

Sure – it sucked; that goes without saying. It was naïve of you to assume that people would grow out of the need for drama once they walked through the ivory doors and marble floors of higher education. It was stupid of you to think that everyone would forget about your outburst at Bodleian while they were getting drunk on the New Year.

And while Annabel was one migraine-inducing problem, she wasn’t the worst part of returning. No, that title belonged to her boyfriend, a whole other can of monkeys.

The worst part – the worst part of EVERYTHING – was how Felix fucking Catton was incapable of just leaving you the hell alone. It was like he had a little antenna sticking out of his head specifically for you whenever the two of you were within a ten-foot radius of him. Everywhere you went, it was as if you had a giant blinking arrow above you screaming, “Felix Catton’s New Toy”!

No, you were less than a toy – you were a joke, a gimmick.

God, you should have just stuck to your original plan and applied to any SUNY school that would have accepted you without even looking at your application.

But no, your good-Samaritan-obsessed college counselor called your parents and complained that you weren’t “putting yourself out there” enough. And now you were over thirty-four hundred miles away from home, stuck with the worst people ever. It was like a thousand tiny prickles were running on your skin as your mind filled with static.

Whenever Felix called out to you, it was to invite you to a party or get wasted. One time, he walked up to you insanely plastered and invited you for a quickie in the men’s bathroom. You were in an empty lecture hall since your usual spot in the library was taken, and Michael was still in class, so you didn’t see the point in trying to find an open spot.

Somehow – without you noticing – the guy plopped himself next to you and asked if there were any rooms in the building where he could smoke a joint in.

“Pretty sure you could open the window in the bathroom to smoke in there,” you replied absentmindedly.

And then he put his hand ON YOUR THIGH, leaned to your ear to whisper, “Wanna get out of here to join me? We don’t have only to get high.”

You grabbed all your shit and booked it – out of the building and all the way to your dorm to take a shower that lasted for around twenty minutes. You wanted to get rid of the smell of nicotine and overpriced aftershave. The scent of him on your skin made you wish you could tear it off.

And in your panic, you left your bike at the building’s entrance.

When you returned to retrieve it, it was after dark, and you recruited Michael as your tall and bony human shield.

“Do not ever walk home alone at night,” your mom told you every morning you left for school.

You tried not to think about the haunted look in her eyes each time she told you.

“Wanna skip the dining hall tonight? We can walk to Crowley Street and order take-out at that Pakistani place you like so much.”

Oh, that perked you right up. Jannahs Express was a broke college student’s paradise. The food was cheap, and the owners took pity on the international students. It was slightly more expensive in the UK, but it was the closest you could find with food on par to Kababish on Broadway in Queens. You stifled a laugh remembering the sight of Michael drinking the entire pitcher of water after you dared him to try a dish at ‘regular.’

“Seriously? Do you think you could take more than ‘English-mild’?” you asked as you stood up. “How did you survive your mom’s cooking for so long? She made us Indian food on our last night.”

“Mum grew up in London, and she had neighbors teach her how to make it the traditional way. You’re the only person who could take that level. Lilypad and I got Dad’s taste buds.”

Choking on your spit from laughing at the image of Gregory Gavey’s face turning firetruck red, you felt the migraine slowly disappear.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. God, I can’t imagine the look on his face when –”

A familiar voice that left a bitter taste in your mouth after hearing interrupted your conversation.

“Hey, (Y/N). Can we talk?”

You and Michael turned your heads to find Oliver Quick – Michael’s former friend, your former acquaintance – and the sight of him soured the mood instantaneously. You narrowed your eyes to dangerous slits to show your displeasure seeing him as one corner of your lip curled to show a sneer. You never liked the guy. There was just something about how he acted and presented himself. He had a profound desperation to impress everyone around him.

So much so that he immediately dropped Michael after becoming Felix Catton’s new pet. As evidenced by the oversized gray zip-up hoodie blanketing him. Felix’s, no doubt.

Fuck, you hated him.

“Ugh, what do you want?” you snapped, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing how your voice made him flinch.

“Look, can we –” his eyes hastily darted to Michael, then you, then behind him to make sure no one was watching him “– can we talk in private?”

Seriously? That’s how he wants to play this?

In the corner of your eye, you saw how tightly Michael clenched his fists. He was obviously still hurt from the time his ex-friend treated him like shit.

Oh, this will not do.

“Oliver,” you snarled as you crossed your arms over your chest, “whatever the hell you have to say to me, you can say in front of Michael.”

“Can you please not do this now?” he begged with pathetic eyes. How very in-character of him.

“Tick tock, Quick. Are you going to talk, or do I have to throw a drink in your face again? But this time, I’ll smash the glass on your face, too.”

Seeing the look on his face gave you almost a perverse sense of joy. Maybe this is why bullies exist.

“Do you think you’ll be at the pub sometime this week?”

What the fuck? Was he serious? His question caught you completely off-guard. You expected him to ask for notes or even help with homework, as his grades have slipped since becoming an official Felix Catton fanboy.

“At the pub – Oliver, when have I drunk alcohol in the entire time we’ve known each other?”

“You’ll turn nineteen this year, right? It’s only illegal if you’re under 18,” he tried to put out convincingly.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. But you’re forgetting the part where I’m still an American citizen. Just because it’s legal for me to vote doesn’t mean it’s okay for me to drink yet.”

“No one cares about that here!” he almost shouted. “Just come with me to the pub at King’s Arms for the next few nights.”

“No fucking way,” you scoffed. “My parents would kill me if they found out I drank on a school night. Also, in case you forgot, we still have our test tomorrow in History. And I, for one, don’t need to get sloshed every night to feel important.”

Michael tugged on your sleeve and nodded at the small crowd forming around you three. You sighed in silence, agreeing that it wasn’t worth it. You both tried to walk away, but you were grabbed and stumbled back, which caused you to drop your books.

“Ow! Are you kidding–” but a wince broke your complaint as Oliver’s hold on your arm tightened to a painful grip. Your eyes traveled to his face, and you were shocked to see the anger shining in his eyes.

“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” he grit out. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”

The way his nails dug into your skin made you curse under your breath. Seeing you in pain broke Michael out of his shock at how someone as meek as Oliver Quick could show so much aggression. He rushed to get him off you.

“Are you fucking mental?” he hissed at Oliver once he managed to separate to two of you.

But Oliver’s nail left red scratch marks down to your wrist, even breaking the skin enough to cause little beads of blood to escape. This enraged Michael like you have never seen. Staring at the evidence of his former friend’s clawing, he walked forward and pushed him to the bookshelf before grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“What’s wrong with you?” Michael yelled. “She already said no!”

You wiped the blood off your arm with an old travel tissue pack you stole from the plane you took from JFK to London last summer. God, everyone was staring at you guys now. You needed to find a way to contain the situation. If any staff catches you, all three of you may risk trouble. Trouble that would jeopardize your scholarships. You grabbed Michael’s hands to get him to loosen his grip.

“Look, I’ll hear you out–” you looked around and cringed at everyone’s stares, “–just not here.”

This calmed Oliver’s rage enough to get Michael to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered, “okay – yeah. Let’s go outside.”

The three of you grabbed your shit and quickly exited the library. You went to the same area behind the building with no windows – ergo, no bystanders to gawk at you.

“Okay, we’re outside. Look, I’m sorry about your arm. But can you please just –”

You lifted your hand to stop him.

“Okay, look. I only said I would hear you out to make you and Michael stop fighting,” you stated matter-of-factly. “None of us could afford to get in trouble with the faculty and staff, and it was getting too out-of-hand. Oliver, I am not going to King Arm’s tonight or any night you ask me. I have my own life, so don’t drag me into yours.”

Oliver gaped like a fish for a few seconds before speaking.

“But you have to! Please! If you do, then maybe he’ll –”

“WHO?” you interrupted, shouting. “Who will be there? Who is so important that you act so fucking psycho for five minutes ago?”

This was too much for you to deal with everything on your plate already.

“Cut the vague bullshit already! Why are you desperate for me to be there? It’s so –” You froze as an epiphany struck down you.

Oh, hell fucking no…

“Are you hoping that Felix will be there?” you asked through clenched teeth.

You felt like a volcano ready to blow with his slight nod. And like a volcano – you blew.

“You mean to tell me that you risked all our asses, attacked, and humiliated me for fucking FELIX CATTON?!”

You couldn’t believe it – you couldn’t fucking believe it. Felix Catton took up so much of your life already; once again, he felt it necessary to take more of it for himself.

How much more could one man take? How much more did he want until it was enough?

He had taken so much – more than any person other than yourself had any right to own. Your education, your peace, and what was next? Your body? Your life? Did he intend to bleed you dry of everything like a parasitic vampire he and his kind pretended not to be?

You were going crazy, insane, and running yourself tired all at once. The absurdity of it all made you laugh. You laughed and laughed and laughed until you were gasping for air. You laughed so hard that tears spilled from your eyes as you doubled over.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god! That’s it. Of course, it is. What else could it be?”

Standing straight, you kept laughing, but you were staring at Oliver with an answer clear in your eyes.

“He got bored of you,” you accused him, “didn’t he? So quickly?”

God, how you relished how red his face turned. If you were smart, you would have stopped taunting there – but you were too tired of everything to care.

“It’s been what? A month? Maybe two?” you further pressed. “He really just loves to go through all his toys, huh?”

“(Y/N),” Michael whispered in your ear, “let’s just go.”

He looked at Oliver with disdainful eyes before softening them to look back at you.

“He isn’t worth it. Come on, let’s get your cut cleaned up before we leave.”

You let Michael gently drag you away from the hurricane mess that was Oliver Quick, leaving him to stew in anger and wallow in self-pity on the chilly spring night.

A few days later, you and Michael were walking back to his dorm after watching one of the most notable movie franchises starring one of Hollywood’s best actors.

“How could you not love Pirates of the Caribbean?” you cried. “Johnny Depp is beyond brilliant!”

“Oh, so acting drunk in front of an expensive camera is now considered brilliant?” he quipped back. “Shit, I should have just gone into acting instead.”

“I’m sorry, do you not remember his jar of dirt? That scene was completely improvised, by the way – including his fall.”

“Oh – not the stupid jar of dirt! Lil’ kept buggering me all summer doing that scene after I took her to see it!”

“Oh, I meant to ask. What did Lily think of the books I got for her birthday? Were they weird?”

“Are you kidding? She loved them. She keeps going on about how she wants to be Annabeth for Halloween. Oh, by the way, she’s making me dress up as Luke and wants you to go as Thalia.”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “Seriously?! Yes, let’s do it. I am so in.”

“She is aware that Luke’s the villain, right?”

“Don’t worry about it so much. She wants to share these memories with you. And you are such a good brother, Mikey.”

“I am never going to escape that name with you,” he groaned, “am I?”

“Nope!” you happily confirmed. “Never! When I write my speech at your wedding, I will mention it at least fifteen times.”

“I’ll allow six.”

“Twelve.”

“Ten, take it or leave it.”

“Ten it is. Pinky-swear.”

You held out your pinky to show sincerity. And like someone raised correctly, Michael respected the sanctity of the swear by reciprocating.

“Perfect! Now that that’s settled, is it okay if I crash at your place for the night? It’s so late, and we don’t have classes tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Just make sure you – Annabel.”

Wait, what? You stopped walking and turned to look at your friend in confusion.

“Annabel?”

He pointed it out in front of him with a slight nod.

“Annabel,” he confirmed.

Indeed, it was Annabel. But she was sitting slumped against the hallway’s walls with vomit all over her blue dress.

Felix had been going mad for the past few months since his and Farleigh’s return to Oxford. It was already almost May, and he hadn’t come any closer to getting (Y/N)’s attention.

What could he possibly be doing that was so wrong?

He invites you to parties or a drink with you every time he sees you. He had hoped that being friends with Ollie would have given him an “in” with you, but there was no such luck. Did you really have no idea how he felt about you? How much more obvious could he be?

He remembered how happy he was when he realized that Oliver knew you. It was that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms. He recalled it so vividly.

Felix was silent throughout the entire transaction. The sight of you coming over entirely transfixed him. Your hair had two small braids on the side that were attached with small yellow butterfly clips. You were wearing black denim overalls with vintage-looking patches sewn onto the fabric. Your shirt was a light blue-dyed shirt-sleeved t-shirt with splotches of navy blue. It must have been something you made when you were little. The fabric looked soft and worn down. But the size was small enough to hug the curves of your upper torso perfectly. The way the fabric stretched across your tits made him salivate.

After he introduced himself to you, you only responded with a grimace and a slight nod of acknowledgment. He invited you to join him and his friends for a drink, but you only ignored him. His words were meaningless breezes to you – white noise in the background that added to the clang and chatter in the room. He wasn’t even paying attention to Oliver until you threw that drink at him.

“Fucking cunt-rag!” you called Ollie after throwing Farleigh’s drink in his face. You shoved a middle finger for added effect. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

Grabbing your coat, you stomped away from the table.

Absentmindedly handing his friend some tissues, Felix had to know what your deal was with Oliver. Were you two dating or just friends? He didn’t know how he felt about his new friend being romantically involved with his angel.

“Wait, do you two know each other?” he asked.

“What?” asked Oliver – not understanding his idol’s question before his mind finally registered it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, she’s a friend of a friend.”

“Were you two ever, like ‘together’?” Felix had to know.

Oliver’s eyes widened a bit before shaking his head and panickedly answering.

“No, no, no. We have a few classes together – that’s it.”

Felix couldn’t believe his luck. Ollie must really be his hero.

“Do you think you could introduce us?” he asked excitedly – his molten chocolate eyes were shining ablaze with hope.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Oliver quickly agreed – anything to keep his attention on him.

Felix felt like leaping to the sky. He could run a marathon with how much energy was flooding throughout him. He clapped his hands before grabbing Ollie’s face with both hands and smacking a wet kiss on both cheeks.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Felix went up to get him another pint. “You’re my hero, Ollie. You really are.”

As he lay on his bed, he tried to remember every interaction with you. His last one with you was something he could admit went horribly wrong.

He wandered on the grounds when he stumbled on a building with your bike on the rack. Figuring that you were just in a lecture, Felix figured he could try to catch up with you when it was done. It wasn’t like he had anything important later. He would stay near the entrance and try to catch your attention when you walked out.

Simple.

And because he was God’s favorite, he found you sitting in the middle of an empty classroom. You were taking notes while reading a massive textbook while lightly bobbing your head to whatever was blasting through your earbuds.

Sliding to the seat next to you, he smoothly asked you if there was any room where he could smoke. You didn’t even bother to look at him while answering him – too fixated with your studies to pay attention to him.

Knowing that he had to get you to look at him through more direct actions, Felix impulsively put his hand on your thigh before asking you if you wanted to join him. He even joked, saying that you didn’t only have to get high.

But seeing the terror in your eyes threw him off. He quickly wanted to tell you that he was only joking. If you knew that he wasn’t being serious, maybe you would ease up around him. But before he could apologize, you frantically stood from your seat to gather your books in your bag before running out of the room.

Felix groaned into his hands as he recalled how fast you ran out of the room and away from him.

“Felix, you’re a fucking idiot,” he softly insulted himself.

God, what the hell was wrong with him? Why did he think that someone as studious as you would ever consider getting high with some bloke in the bathroom of an academic building?

Every step he tried to take forward with you felt like he was going ten steps back. He needed to find a way to get on your good side.

Maybe Ollie could – no, that was a dead end. Fuck, he needed a drink.

Lying on his bed, Oliver stared at the ceiling of his room. Annabel had just left with the bottle of vodka they had been drinking out of for the past half hour. He wanted to cry.

Why was everything going wrong?

But he knew the reason. It was you.

He was so naïve to think you wouldn’t be an obstacle. You had practically ruined everything from the beginning. It wasn’t just when you refused to help him the other day but also that night at the pub at Kings’ Arms.

While Felix was ordering him a drink, Oliver sat bewildered at the sequence of events that had transpired in the past five minutes. First, Felix invited him over to sit with him and his friends. And when things had been so well, you interrupted his excellent time by asking where Michael was. When you realize he has left your friend alone, you ask for Farleigh Start’s drink before throwing it in his face. You then called him a “cunt-rag” before storming off like a goddamn child.

Luckily, Felix hadn’t listened to you speak. But that was only because he stared at you – stared at you like he was born to worship you. Even worse, Felix asked him if he could introduce the two of you at some point. The way Felix’s eyes widened in glee when Oliver agreed enraged him – even more than when you insulted and almost humiliated him in front of Felix.

Staring at his back, Oliver figured Felix’s attention on you wasn’t something to worry about. He was only interested in you because you were pretty. As much as you infuriated him, Oliver admitted that you had a rare and genuine beauty to you. He didn’t know whether it was your indifference for Oxford’s gods and kings or your dedication to keeping in touch with your American roots – but it was enough to enrapture Felix Catton temporarily.

No, Oliver Quick had no reason to worry. He would be enough for Felix. And then you would be an afterthought, and he’d be Felix Catton’s everything.

Oliver had to find a way to ensure you wouldn't be a problem anymore. You'd comply - there would come a time when you won't have a choice.

Let me know if you want me to write the full scene of Reader throwing the drink at Oliver!

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @aemondsbabe, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss, @immyowndefender, @ilovemydinoboi, @ahristata, @cxp1d, @jinsoulorbitzen12, @temptation-waits, @bollzinurmouth, @jcngw0ns, @seababehh, @destinydestnation, @lankyboi4, @mindless-rock, @cassavacakes

Please comment and/or reblog your thoughts and if you want to be added to the taglist!

[girlgenius1111]

it was war it wasn't fair

the great war chapter 2 :)

R's teammates debate the potential causes of her breakup. Ona comes to her defense. R realizes her feelings might not be as easy to avoid as she hoped.

ps. not one bed trope, but... teammates-sharing-a-hotel-room-at-an-away-game-and-one-has-a-nightmare-kind-of trope.

brief descriptions of a panic attack.

-----

You were sure that if you could just sleep you'd be fine. You'd never really had problems sleeping before, but in the days since your breakup with Alessia, you'd been struggling. Your brain wouldn't turn off; you went back over every little moment in your relationship, over analyzing, trying to figure out where it went wrong. Where you went wrong.

You honestly wished that was the only thing keeping you up. It wasn't. You couldn't get Ona out of your head. The kindness she'd been showing you, how perceptive she was of your feelings. It was overwhelmingly confusing, to be heartbroken by someone, and completely fixated on someone else at the same time.

Most of the time, you were glad to have such a close team. Everyone looked out for each other, and you knew they'd always have your back. Unfortunately, they seemed to think that having your back in this situation meant hovering over you every second of the day. It didn't help that you wouldn't tell them why you and Alessia had ended things.

Although you knew your teammates were keeping an extra close eye on you, you hadn't realized that some of them had begun to have suspicions about what had gone down. You'd come to a halt outside the locker room, after hearing your name. You'd forgotten your keys, and were heading back inside when you heard Keira's voice floating through the doorway.

"Leah said Alessia's really torn up about it, but she won't tell anyone what happened either."

"I knew they weren't doing well, but both of them seem too upset for it to be a mutual thing," Lucy responded.

"Y/n doesn't look like she's slept in a week," Alexia chimed in. Perfect. This was a group conversation, apparently.

"Maybe one of them cheated. I don't remember seeing y/n leave by herself when we went out last week," Keira mentioned offhandedly.

You knew Keira didn't mean anything by it; anyone looking at your relationship from the outside would guess that between the 2 of you, you'd surely be more likely to cheat than Less. You'd been significantly more of a playgirl before Alessia, and your friends had always joked they'd missed the version of you that went home with a different girl every weekend.

Still, the implication that you'd done what had, in fact, been done to you, really fucking hurt. You were more than prepared to go in there and start yelling, god knows you've been needing someone to shout at, but someone beat you to it.

"If she wanted you guys to know what happened she would have said," Ona's voice rang out through the locker room, unmistakably filled with anger. "You're supposed to be her friends, she's clearly having a tough time, and now you're accusing her of cheating? Behind her back? "

"Ona, I didn't mean anything by it," Keira began, clearly startled by the angry tone with which the brunette spoke.

"Y/n didn't cheat, she'd never do that," Ona replied fiercely. "You're lucky she didn't hear you suggest that, because I'm not sure any of you would have been able to put her back together."

With that, Ona stormed out of the room, turning the corner and coming to a sudden stop at the sight of you. You'd been too baffled by her words to move, and now it was too late.

"Y/n,"

"Thank you, Ona. Really," you said, blinking back tears. Behind Ona, Lucy, Keira, and Alexia walked out of the room, clearly on their way to go after the defender and calm her down. They all looked comically shocked at the sight of you, but you had no interest in talking to them. You spun on your heel, walking briskly out of the building and to your car, ignoring the calls of your name behind you. Ignoring, too, the tears that began to cloud your vision.

-----

Despite arriving home several hours ago, you lay in the same spot on the couch that you'd occupied since walking through the door. Your brain was working a mile a minute, going back and forth between fixating on Ona's passionate defense of you, and being angry at your teammates for speaking about you behind your back. You'd gotten texts from them, you knew, a particularly long apology from Keira, but you'd yet to open them. Ona had texted you too, and you hadn't read that either, for a very different reason.

You weren't mad at Keira for thinking you'd cheated, not really. You just hated that they were trying to figure out what happened; you'd made it clear you didn't want to talk about it, and here they were, dragging it back up over and over again. Logically, you knew it was because you weren't handling it well, and they could tell. Maybe you didn't like them worrying about you, either.

You were about to grab your phone and absolve your teammates of guilt, when there was a knock on your door. You walked to the door, looking through the peephole, and sighing. Of course.

"Hola, Alexia," you said, swinging the door open. Captain Alexia wasn't one to take team conflict lightly.

"Can I come in?" she asked, after returning your greeting. In response, you stepped to the side, allowing her into your apartment. She followed you in, sitting next to you on the couch. She had a familiar glint in her eyes, one that you knew meant she was determined to do something. What, you weren't exactly sure.

"Y/n, I'm really sorry we were talking about you when you weren't there. We're really worried about you, but there's no excuse. We should have brought our concerns to you," Alexia tells you sincerely.

"I know you're worried," you sigh. "And I probably wouldn't have been very receptive to you asking me about how I was doing."

"And what Keira said-"

"I get it. Of the two of us, I seem like the one who would sleep with someone else. I would have thought the same thing too."

"Does that mean Alessia cheated?" Alexia inquired, after a moment of silence. You looked at her, stunned, not quite sure how she came to that conclusion. In response to your expression, she explained.

"You're both apparently really upset, so it's clearly not mutual like you said. I know you didn't cheat. Sleeping around might have been your thing before Alessia, but it's not now, and it would be unfair to assume you hadn't changed. And, the way you phrased that last part. You "would have" thought the same thing too. That makes it sound like you no longer think that way."

You processed this for a minute, reminded of how smart Alexia was. You wanted to be annoyed, because if Alexia knew, it wouldn't be long before the whole team knew. Alexia had a strict policy of sharing everything with her co captains, who, famously, could not keep their mouths shut. You were really just relieved, though, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, now that you didn't have to try so hard to pretend to be okay.

"Yeah. She slept with some girl in a bar."

"I'm sorry, y/n."

"It's fine. We were probably going to break up anyway, and she's having a hard time. I don't even know why I'm upset."

Alexia's face changed at that, looking somewhat stern.

"It's not fine. She still betrayed your trust, even if you were going to break up. Even if she is struggling. That's not an excuse, y/n, and you're allowed to be upset that a relationship you spent a lot of time in ended so horrifically."

You shrugged in response and avoided her eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Her hand came to rest on your shoulder before she spoke again.

"It's okay to be upset, y/n, you don't need to pretend you're not having a hard time with this. None of us will think any less of you." Alexia's tone was gentle, and at her reassurance, you turned to look at her, eyes big and wet with tears.

"Oh, nena," she said, pulling you in for a hug. You went willingly, allowing yourself to be comforted for the first time since the breakup. You cried softly into Alexia's shoulder, your captain's arms wrapped tightly around you. You felt safe here, in this little bubble with the older woman, safe enough to allow yourself to feel the hurt that you'd been pushing down for days.

-----

You'd assumed that after speaking with Alexia, you would feel better, and start sleeping better. You did feel better; it seemed that leaning on your friends during a tough time did, in fact, make getting through it easier. But you weren't sleeping better. If anything, it was getting worse. You'd wake up on the verge of having a panic attack, so filled with anxiety you could barely breathe. You didn't recall any nightmares that prompted this, and it didn't take long for you to calm down, but it made sleeping an ordeal.

The team's next game was an away game in Tenerife. You all had flown out the afternoon before the game, and tried to distract yourself from your exhaustion by goofing around with your teammates. Keira and Lucy had been relieved when you easily accepted their apologies.

Things with Ona were... more complicated. She'd seemed almost embarrassed after her outburst in the locker room, and had taken to avoiding you. Not completely, because you still caught her staring at you during practice, but enough that you found yourself inexplicably missing her presence. Those that had been on the receiving end of the defender's scolding were evidently intrigued by her behavior.

So, when you got your room assignments for the trip and saw Ona's name next to yours on the list, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the clear attempt from Alexia to get you back on non-awkward terms.

You all headed to dinner first, and you couldn't help but watch as Ona barely touched her food, seemingly caught up in her own thoughts. You weren't quite sure if she was preoccupied with you, or something else, but you were determined to find out. She was your friend, after all, and despite your increasingly confusing feelings for her, you wanted to be there for her.

Ona beat you to your room after dinner, and you walked in to find her sitting nervously on the bed nearest to the door, fingers picking at her nails. She began speaking almost the minute the door had shut behind you.

"I just wanted to apologize, y/n, if I overstepped. It wasn't my place to say anything, and-" you cut her off.

"Oni, it's really okay. You don't need to apologize for sticking up for me. What you said was... it was really nice." You were blushing. Why were you blushing?

"Okay, good," Ona replied, smiling in relief. She turned, presumably to finish getting ready for bed.

"Are you doing okay? You've seemed stressed recently, not like yourself," you mention, heading to your luggage to act like your question was more casual than it really was. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ona freeze.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just been a long week." she said. For some reason, you didn't believe her. Something in her voice told you that she was lying, but you didn't want to push.

"Well, if you want to talk," you say, smiling at her reflexively. It was almost unconscious, the way your lips lifted into a grin when you saw her face, freckles scrunching adorably as she returned your smile.

You turned back to your bag, internally shaking your head at yourself. You needed to get it together. You weren't so naive to not understand what was going on, but getting into a relationship with a teammate, so soon after the disastrous end to your previous one, seemed like the world's biggest mistake.

-----

Even though you'd done everything you could think to relax yourself before falling asleep, you still startled slightly only a few hours later, stuck in the land between wakefulness and slumber, your body thrumming with anxiety. It was a bad one, that was really your first conscious thought. You were already short of breathe, but still somehow drowsy, and you fought to drag your eyes open, and go through the familiar routine of grounding yourself.

You didn't realize you were breathing loudly, nor did you hear Ona the first time she said your name. It was only after the first time, when she spoke louder, that you turned your head to look at her in the other bed.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" She asked. You simply shook your head in response, not quite sure you could explain it. You wanted her to go back to sleep, let you pull yourself together on your own like you always did, but you should have known Ona wouldn't do that.

Ona rose from her own bed, approaching the side of yours. You'd sat up, resting your head in your hands as your chest rose and fell erratically.

"Y/n," Ona called softly, hovering nervously next to the bed, like she didn't know what to do.

"I'm ok-okay," you gasped out, admittedly not very convincingly.

"You don't seem okay," she said, doubt clear in her tone. "Do you want me to get someone? Lucy? Ale?" She turned as if to leave.

Suddenly, you were struck with fear at the idea of her leaving. You hadn't realized how much you'd been relying on her presence to calm yourself down until she mentioned leaving. You breathing sped up again, and you reached out frantically, grabbing a fist full of her shirt. She turned back to you, seemingly surprised at your movements. her face was filled with a kindness that was so distinctly Ona, you felt yourself calming down again at the mere sight of it.

"Hey, I won't go, it's okay," she reassured you, taking a careful seat on the edge of your bed. She gripped your hand in hers, tugging it off of her shirt, and you squeezed it gratefully. She sat next to you, allowing you to regulate your breathing, not saying anything, but apparently realizing you just needed to feel her next to you. When you were calm, a few minutes later, you turned to her, prepared both to thank her, and apologize profusely, but she asked a question before you could open your mouth.

"Is this why you haven't been sleeping?" she questioned. Her eyes were peering into yours, and you wished the lights were on, so you could see the warm honey brown staring back at you.

"Yeah. I don't really know what's going on, I just wake up really anxious," you admit, again reminded of Ona's miraculous power to get you to tell her the truth. Ona contemplated for a minute, before she motioned for you to scoot over. You did, although confused, and watched as she slid into the bed next to you. Ona's had her poker face as she laid down, resting her head on your pillow, and motioning you to nestle in next to her.

You were planning to object, really. Instead of opening your mouth, though, your body moved almost without your permission, and you were soon laying next to Ona, head tucked comfortably into her chest. It was such a natural thing, laying against her, like something you'd done a thousand times. You weren't tense, or uncomfortable. You just felt sleepy, suddenly, and enjoyed the feel of the spaniard's soft t-shirt on your cheek, not even questioning it when her arms wrapped around you, holding you securely against her.

Ona didn't say anything, and she didn't need to. You were already drifting off, remarkably calm for someone snuggling one of their friends, who they maybe, possibly, were developing a crush on. You didn't feel butterfly's like you would have expected. Ona never made you feel nervous. Flustered, sure. But as you drifted off into the best sleep you'd had in weeks, you were truly struck with how she comforted you easily, and how she got you to accept that comfort with no argument.

When you woke the next morning, still cuddled close to Ona, you marveled at the fact that you'd slept through the rest of the night. You watched her face as she slept next to you, the morning sunlight hitting her freckles perfectly. You wondered if you could count them all.

You also wondered how much longer you could pretend you weren't falling for the girl next to you.

-----

[fandomfucker]

Hey bestie

I’ve loved you stuff for ages so I thought you would be a good writer for a lil idea I had!

Poly! Judgement Day x reader (or just Rhea Ripley ) where bubbly (but smart and snarky) reader gets moved to smackdown during the draft and only sees the rest of her partners one or two days a week.

She acts independently like it doesn’t bother her that she has to travel alone, and doesn’t tell her partners that she’s had trouble making friends at smackdown. But it’s taking a toll on her.

When she starts seeing them post more photos without her and all text her less she finally loses it.

After a long day of losing a championship match reader goes home to find out that her partners didn’t even know that she had a match that night and barely acknowledge her homecoming. Reader cries herself to sleep alone in their kingside bed.

Hurt/comfort ensues

- I hope this wasn’t too long 💕,

🟧Anon

Thank you so much for all your support!!🫶

Definitely get toxic relationship vibes with this so i kinda played into it a little. Also, this doesnt actually follow anything because I dont actually really watch Smackdown, pls dont kill me🙏

Some of the dialogue and resulting reactions/scenarios are from this list by @judgementdaysunshine and @romanthereigns

Word count: 4,473

Reader’s POV

It felt like my heart had been ripped in two and then thrown in a woodchipper.

Without any kind of warning or anything, I had just been removed from my partnership with the Judgment Day and put on Smackdown instead of Raw.

Backstage in our shared dressing room it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop as the five of us all stood around in stunned silence.

Dominik was the first to break it as he launched himself at me, cradling my head to his chest as the news began to sink in.

Tears began to well up in my eyes as I stared off over his shoulder at nothing. Our hug was jolted when Damian, Finn, and Rhea joined us, surrounding and enveloping us whole.

I blinked until the tears receded, refusing to cry over an unfortunate situation such as this.

I felt tears on my shoulder from one of my partners and heard the shaking sobs of the others, making it just that much harder to not cry myself.

Reluctantly, I pulled away from our group hug, wiping away any remaining strays.

I cleared my throat, "This isn't going to change anything, okay? We all still love each other and at the end of the day, we all go back to the same home. We'll be okay."

Dominik nodded, keeping a hand on my waist as he wiped away his own tears. Catching Damian also wiping away his tears I sent him a small smile, hugging into his waist.

"You're right, dove. It might be hard, but we'll make it work just like we always do." Rhea smiled as she cradled my face in her hands.

I nodded my head, smiling at her in return before removing myself from the boys' holds on me and crushing her body into mine, holding onto her waist tightly.

Finn stood to the side of her and took one of my hands in his, "Lass, this isn't goodbye, and it never will be. You're going to do great by yourself, really get the chance to show everyone just what all you're capable of."

Nodding my head again against Rhea's chest, I squeezed his hand in acknowledgment and comfort as I took in all my partners in the group locker room for what was possibly the last time.

"I'll make you guys proud."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two smackdowns later and I still had yet to make any of them even remotely proud.

Turns out, even if you leave a group, people still hold grudges against you for being in that group.

Rhea and I had obliterated the entire women's division both individually and as the occasional tag team so no one liked me or even so much as acknowledged I was there.

The ignoring was worse than any bullying or ambushes I could have anticipated.

The only woman in the locker room that would even look at me was the new girl from NXT, Blair Davenport but the others had warned her about me, so she too stayed away.

All the men wouldn't talk to me either more than a 'hello' in passing because my boys had swept through them too.

Apparently creating grudges left and right isn't as fun as I thought, once those I made the grudges with are no longer with me. I had burned all the bridges I now needed to keep from drowning.

We managed to work our schedules out enough so that we'd all be able to see each other once or twice a week, unless there was a PLE in which we'd be together that whole week.

I was given a newer design along with new beefs. Instead of my usual black and dark purple I wore more pastel colors. Baby blue, lilac, light yellows, etc. I was given extensions and my makeup was much less dramatic. My shorts were traded for skirts and my hand symbols for hearts.

I was told they were wanting to take some more creative liberties for me and I could either get on board with it or leave.

My first match on Smackdown was against the new girl, Blair Davenport who wanted to "show the world what she's made of" and decided to try and make me her example.

Long story short; I won. And that really didn't do me any favors, except to get me a match against Chelsea Green. The winner of which would be getting a shot at the Women's Championship title against Bayley.

Sitting in the locker room after winning my match against Chelsea I sat in the corner with my knees to my chest as I texted the Judgment Day group-chat.

Y/N: Guys!! I got a match against Bayley for the title next week!! We're about to have two womens champs in the JD!😁😁💪💪

With the different time zones I wasn't expecting an immediate reply so I just went ahead and began scrolling through Instagram until it was time for my promo.

Rhea's post came up first. It was just a picture of her dinner, at a fancy restaurant, and you could see Dominik's shirt and hands in the background.

Some of us go on dates with each other by ourselves all the time so I thought nothing of it, just liked it and kept scrolling.

Until I saw that Damian had uploaded a friends-only story. Clicking on it, it was a mirror selfie of him and Finn wearing tuxes, a peak of a flowy red dress just out of frame. The next slide was a full picture of Rhea in her dress. Her dress that I had given her.

My eyes stung a bit that my partners had all gone out on a really nice date without me, but I blinked it away because it didn't matter. It was one date and I'm on the other side of the country right now, they can go on one date without me. It's fine.

When it was time to do my promo, someone came and escorted me to the specific area where my favorite unbiased interviewer, Cathy Kelley, was waiting for me. Her face lit up when she saw me as I barreled towards her.

Crushing her into a hug, we both squealed with delight at finally seeing each other for the first time in forever.

We caught up and did my promo and decided to go out for a really late dinner together after the show. I told her about my struggles with the women on the roster while she spilled about her own personal problems.

"Oh! Let's take a cute little dinner date picture for Insta!" Cathy exclaimed pulling out her phone. I agreed and joked that we should hold hands across the table like a real date and she agreed.

She posted the photo and we watched as the comments rolled in from the fans. Some were loving it while others thought she might be dating both Rhea and me now. We laughed at some of the comments before going back to our conversation.

Wrapping up dinner, Cathy revealed to me that while she would be on Smackdown more often than before, she still wouldn't be there every week.

"It's okay, its not your fault," I forced a smile before we made our way to our separate hotel rooms. "I'll see you tomorrow though?" I asked hopefully.

"Of course! Sweet dreams, Y/N," She replied before we went our separate ways.

Two hours later, now laid in my hotel bed about to go to sleep, and the only response I'd gotten was a thumbs-up reaction from Finn. Secretly, I hoped my partners were just too busy planning something special for me when I got home and didn't want to accidentally ruin the surprise.

Deciding to just get over it, I went to bed, dreaming of finally being with all my partners again, going on a date with all of us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of my phone's notifications woke me up early the next morning. I reached out, aiming for the nightstand where I had left my phone to charge the night before. I blindly hit around the area until I felt my phone, bring it up to my half-open eyes, blinking rapidly at the burning brightness of the screen.

The screen was filled with angry texts from my partners.

Finn: What the hell were you doing with Cathy???

Rheas: Were you on a date last night???

Hello???

Y/N!

Damian: Answer us Y/n!!

Dominik: Y/n answer your fucking phone this is insane

My eyes teared up in fear at my partners' reactions. They seemed genuinely upset, especially with the combined 24 missed calls in a 4-hour time period.

I just texted back a simple, "We just went out to dinner and thought the picture would be cute. Nothing more." before getting up and going about my day. With my next flight leaving in just a few hours, I had a lot to do before I could even get to the airport.

After getting out of the shower, I checked my messages only to see no response from any of my partners. Clicking on the chat, I saw that I had been left on read by all four of them. I tried to push aside my feelings but lately it was getting harder and harder to do so.

But, I managed to pull myself together just enough to make it on my flight home just in time.

It was mid-Sunday by the time I made it to our shared house, and I knew I'd be alone for the next couple days since my partners' flight out for Raw had been around the same time as my flight in.

The rest of the day was spent self-loathing in the bathtub as I watched a few of Bayley's old matches, trying to give myself the upper-hand for our match by learning how she fights.

I fell asleep in bed that night, shoveling ice cream into my mouth as I watched old reruns of Full House on the TV.

The next morning was nice because I was finally able to sleep-in after so many early mornings. I was able to make myself a cup of coffee and make french toast (something I hadn't been able to have in forever) as I sat on the back porch watching the birds fly through the trees.

My nice little fantasy, however, was broken when I received an Instagram notification. This one was a picture Rhea had posted; a selfie of the four of them in the car they were driving.

I was too emotionally exhausted for my eye to even begin welling up. So, to save myself from anymore heartbreak and/or grievances, I blocked all four of them on both socials and messages and told myself I'd unblock them later that day.

Later that day turned into fifteen minutes later when I started feeling guilty, so I unblocked their messages and left their socials alone. I'd see the pictures eventually on my feed posted by fans, but hopefully it would take a little bit longer than if they weren't blocked. None of them ever bothered to text me individually or the group chat of all five of us the rest of that week, even after I texted them to congratulate them on their wins form Monday. 

Brushing off the avoidances form them, I just went about my week. A few facetime interviews and a podcast. I answered emails and went to the gym. I cleaned the house and did laundry, wondering when on Earth my partners would get home.

I even called them to ask to no avail. But I saw the posts on Instagram of them a few states away hanging out, going on dates. They had decided to do a road-trip back home instead of a flight. 

The uncomfortable lump in my throat increased with each swipe to the next picture. As I swiped through the pictures, my growing fury and heartache increasing in a swirl of mixed feelings, Dominik texted me, saying they'd be home Thursday night.

Around the same time as my flight out to the next city for Smackdown.

I sent a thumbs up in reply and threw my phone off to the side so I wouldn't have to think about it for the next little while.

I just went ahead and began packing all my stuff for Smackdown Friday night, making sure I had everything I needed for my new ring gear I was about to debut. It was a special occasion, after all. I was about to be the next women's champion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday night had arrived and I now stood in the guerilla bouncing around as I shook out my nerves. Onlookers shot me weird looks as I went through my warm-ups as well, they weren't your typical ones as I had learned them in high school doing theatre.

Bayley passed me, giving me a look I couldn't quite decipher as her music hit first and she walked out. 

A minute later my own started playing and I walked out, swaggering my way down the aisle. When I was told to change my look, and my attitude as well, to make myself not apart of the Judgment Day anymore, I was finally given my own theme music, but I missed our group theme more than anything.  My now long hair swung as I made my way up the stairs and into the ring to do my entrance against the ropes.

Stepping into the middle of the ring, I faced Bayley as our title match was announced and the title showcased to the audience. I caught her mouthing something at me, making me grin sadistically. You can take the girl out of the faction but you can't take the faction out of the girl.

"May the best woman win."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn't win.

It was a long match that wound up being longer than anyone anticipated, ourselves included.

Bayley eventually got the best of me when my head hit the turnbuckle at just the right angle for me to black out for a second, leaving room for Bayley to pin me as I was too disoriented to kick out.

The ref had to help me backstage to the medics after the lights went out, signaling the commercial break. She even had to hand me a towel to catch the blood beginning to flow from the small cut.

The on-sight paramedic gave me some ice for my head as she checked my pupils. "Yeah, I think you got a minor concussion there, hon. I'll let Mr. Aldis know but you should sit down and rest until you can get an uber, you shouldn't be driving." 

She left the room and I immediately started bawling my eyes out, making my headache worse. Not only did I now have a concussion which would cause me to be out for at least a few weeks, but I was lonely, my partners were ignoring me and probably didn't love me anymore, and I lost my one shot at the title that I had earned and fought for entirely by myself.

My cries attracted the attention of a few passerby but only one stopped and came in to check on me.

"Hey, Y/n, I'm really sorry. That was my fault, I totally botched that, I'm so sorry. If you want I can take you back to the hotel so you don't have to pay for an uber? I just have one more promo to do and then I'm all done."

I looked up to see Bayley standing there, her title nowhere in sight, looking so sincerely upset and apologetic it just sent another wave of tears down my already soaked cheeks.

"That'd be great, thank you," I laugh-cried as she helped me down from the table and back to the shared locker room.

All the other girls stared at me as I walked in, my face and eyes puffy and my forehead bandaged, as I continued to hold an ice pack to the top of said bandage. No one else seemed to have any sympathy for me and rightfully so. I hadn't actually done anything in the past 2 years to warrant any.

Bayley brought me over to my locker and began helping me get all my stuff together. "Why are you helping me?" I croaked pitifully.

She avoided eye contact, "Because I know what it's like. To lose your faction--the people who mean the most to you and are always supposed to be there for you, I mean."

A small laugh escaped me as well as another tear. I swiped it away before offering my hand to her. "Truce?"

"Truce," She nodded and shook my hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally getting home late the next day, I was relieved to find all four of my partners already at home. I was nervous to see them after all the ignored communications and their Instagram posts of dates I wasn't invited on, but I was tired and hurt and wanted my partners.

Unlocking the door, I stepped into the entryway, smiling softly as I heard my partners' rambunctious laughter coming from the living room. I left my suitcase by the door and made my way over to them.

They were playing the new WWE2k24 game with the new Xbox Rhea had gotten from being on the cover.

"Hey guys! I'm home!" I announced my presence from behind the couch as I walked in.

I received a chorus of "hey babe"s from all four of them, not one of them turning around to actually acknowledge me. And that stung worse than any failed title match or concussion. 

It was like my heart had been ripped out and stabbed repeatedly with a knife before being set on fire. I tried to tough it out and managed to get all the way to our shared bedroom before I burst into tears again.

My pent up feelings, mixed with the concussion, my heavily drugged brain resulting from said concussion, and the overall exhaustion from everything all at once finally came to a head as I sobbed.

I collapsed to the floor, my knees being too weak to hold me up. Crawling up into the bed, I laid there and cried into my pillow as I cradled another to my chest. I cried so hard I couldn't breathe and snot ran down my face.

Eventually, I fell asleep, having not even bothered to change my clothes or take off the makeup that was now streaked down my face. 

I just hoped that when I woke up it would've all been a dream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3rd Person POV

The four members of the Judgment Day sat around the living room, playing what they agreed would be the last match before they made dinner.

"Alright," Damian spoke as he stood up and began stretching out his sore limbs, "Who wants what?"

"I want chicken tenders!" Dominik shouted excitedly. 

Rhea laughed and ruffled his hair, sliding her fingers through his silky strands. "Okay, well while Dame and I get started on dinner how about you and Finn go pull Y/N out of the shower and she what she wants."

Dominik nodded like a happy little puppy before grabbing Finn's hand and dragging him upstairs to go find their girlfriend.

They went first to the master bathroom, noticing the light was still off and there was no trace of her having taken a shower. They continued on into the bedroom where they saw the curled-up figure of their girlfriend.

Finn went and turned the bedside lamp on, emitting a soft glow about the room. 

The two of them rounded the bed to face Y/N and wake her up. Dominik saw her first and stopped dead in his tracks, the blood draining from his face causing Finn to rush over.

Before he could even ask what was wrong he looked at Y/N and no longer needed to ask. 

Her face was puffy from tears, her makeup smeared and streaked down her face making it even more evident she had been crying. The pillow she held onto with a death grip had a wet stain on the top of it from previously fallen tears.

But the thing they were most concerned about, was the small bandage on the top of her forehead. Dried blood seeped out from underneath the bandage and was crusted around and in her hairline, the whole area swollen and red.

"What the hell happened?" Dominik asked Finn as they watched Y/N sleep. 

"I dunno," Finn replied in the stunned silence. "We need to get Rhea and Damian, though."

Down in the kitchen, Rhea and Damian danced around each other grabbing various ingredients as well as silverware and dishes. They made idle chat and were laughing when Finn and Dominik bounded down the stairs. 

"What'd Y/N say she wants for dinner?" Damian asked the two of them, his back turned to them as he fiddled with a dial on the stove. 

"She's asleep, but you guys need to come see, something happened," Finn told the two of them.

They both looked up from what they were doing, Rhea grabbing a towel to dry her hands. "What's wrong?" She asked as she ran around the counter and up the stairs to their shared room.

"I'm not even sure," Finn replied.

The four of them raced up the stairs and down the hallway to their bedroom, Rhea leading the way.

She slowly rounded the corner to face Y/N and upon seeing her in the same state the other two had, threw her hand to her mouth in horror as she gasped at the sight before her.

Damian, right behind her, made it to her side to see what all the fuss was about and all the blood drained from his face when he did. "Oh my god."

"Should we wake her up?" Dominik asked, like a scared child.

Rhea, ever the caretaker of the group, chimed in. "No, let's just wait until she wakes up. You guys go back downstairs and finish making dinner and I'll stay here till she wakes up."

"If you're staying here then so am I," Finn argued, taking a seat on the small ottoman at the end of the bed. Rhea nodded reluctantly before looking at the other two.

They both nodded, knowing they wouldn't win any fight they picked. They both walked over and gave Y/N a small kiss on the forehead, the opposite side of where the bandage was, before shuffling out of the room and down the stairs. Now, all they had to do was wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't until an hour later that Y/N finally began to stir.

Rhea and Finn both shot up, kneeling beside the bed as Fin gently stroked Y/N's cheek as she awoke. 

"What's going on?" Y/N asked groggily, thoroughly confused as hell and not knowing anything. After any normal nap, it takes a minute to even remember your own name, not to mention a nap after that kind of extreme emotional distress.

"We're just worried about you, sweetness," Rhea explained as gently as she could. If Y/N did actually have a concussion and didn't remember anything, she didn't want to freak her out any more than she possibly would already have.

"Why?" Y/N asked, gently pushing the two of them away form her to sit up and rub her eyes. In doing so, she felt the edge of her bandage and remembered everything. From losing the match, to making a truce with Bayley, to coming home and them not acknowledging her.

Rhea and Finn saw the look that overcame their girlfriend's face. Anger, betrayal, sadness.

She pushed them out of the way again, this time harder than any of them were expecting which sent the two flat on their asses as Y/N made a move to get out of bed.

"Woah, woah, woah. Where the hell do you think you're going?" Rhea immediately was on her feet and grabbed Y/N's arm to keep her from going any further. The look she received from Y/N before she pulled her arm out of her grip was scathing. 

"Nowhere that concerns you." She began to move towards the closet, starting to grab new clothes, seemingly to change into before she grabbed a bag and began stuffing the clothes in there.

"Y/N! What the hell is going on? Please, just talk to us!" Finn tried to reason with her. 

By now, the commotion had reached the ears of both Damian and Dominik downstairs and they raced up to the bedroom, just in time to hear their girlfriend's explanation.

"Talk to you? Talk to you?! I have been trying to talk to all four of you for weeks! And all I get in response is a thumbs up! Sometimes, not even every time!" She screamed, stepping out of the closet into full view of her partners. Clothes were left forgotten on the floor, and some half-hanging off their hangers as Y/N finally released all her pent-up emotions.

All four members of the Judgment Day stood in stunned silence as Y/N kept going, now unable to stop herself even if she tried.

"I was forcefully moved away from my partners, surrounded by people who hate me and then you four go out and have date nights without me. Constantly! I had a title match tonight against Bayley, we could've had two champions and you didn't even care! I lost because I hit my head and got a concussion and you don't care!" At this point, Y/N had started to grow emotional. Each word was a fight against the myriad of tears threatening to spill over.

The four of them felt awful, how could they have neglected their girl so badly for so long to get to this point?

"We're so sorry, cariño, we had no idea you even had a match last night-" Damian's attempts at an apology were cut off by Y/N.

"Of course you didn't! You never bother to talk to me anymore!" Her partners began to reach out for her as she started fully crying, the emotions winning this fight.

"I'm barely holding on," Y/N sobbed as she curled in on herself, rejecting any attempts at physical touch from her partners. "It's so bad, that my opponent had to come to my rescue after the match because no one else will even acknowledge me."

"Y/N," Dominik spoke, the sound of his heart breaking evident in his voice.

"No, just...don't," Y/N wrapped her arms around herself as she backed away from the four of them. 

The five partners stood around in silence, each member processing their emotions. 

Once Y/N's tears had slowed down, she wiped any remains off her face before facing her partners, who now surrounded her again. This time, however, they left a spot for her to escape.

"Hey, we're sorry, okay? But we promise to do better. This is new for all of us and we admittedly didn't handle it well but we're gonna fix that, alright?" Finn explained to her gently, so as not to scare her off.

"He's right, amor. We love you, so much. We'll do anything that you ask of us, please," Damian practically begged her.

Rhea and Dominik both clutched each other, tears streaming down their faces as they were both too choked up to speak, but they nodded in agreement to both of the boys' statements.

"Okay," Y/N broke down again, walking into the shared hug between the partners. They would make it up to her, just like they always did. Everything would be okay. They would be okay.

[roseghoul26]

Hello! I would like to request Cooper Howard x gn!reader (post war, because...murderous cowboy...hnnngh), where they struggle with mental health issues like depression? I've been in a really tough spot, having no energy or motivation to do anything or really any desire to take care of myself. So I was thinking, maybe the reader's mental health is declining, they're slower and sloppier when it comes to keeping up with Cooper and he's more and more frustrated. Then one day he has enough (maybe the reader is taking too long packing up) and threatens to leave them and they're just...passive, because they really don't care anymore about what happens to them. So he realises they haven't been taking care of themselves properly for a while now and then some soft moments with him? I know this is pretty dark and you can change this however you'd like, but I'm dying for some hurt/comfort with this man 🥺 It's totally cool if it's too much for you, if you decide to not write this, please just let me know, so I don't wait for it. Thank you so much, I love your Cooper fics <3

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x gn!Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been struggling lately, putting both you and your traveling companion in danger. He was bound to confront you about it eventually. Tags: Prompt Request, Not Beta Read, Gender Neutral Reader, Depression, Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Disagreements, Comfort, Lazy Day, Cuddling, Beginning Relationships Author's Note: Trigger warning for topics relating to mental health, such as depression and suicide. Please do not read if you’re not in a good mental space. Take care of yourselves. Also, everyone’s experience with depression and mental health issues differs, so I am writing this story the way I experience it. Also, this was a fun challenge to write. Like how the hell would he approach a topic like this? It’s been fun to explore his character like that, and I hope I did it justice. Thank you so much for the request! <333

You used to be able to keep up with the Ghoul. 

Wherever he went, you followed, tearing through the Wastleland without hindrance. You watched his back, and he yours, a security that was unheard of in this world. It was a trusting friendship, bordering on something else, something that neither of you had crossed yet. You couldn't compete with over a hundred years of experience with a gun, but you were able to hold your own quite well. You were a decent shot and someone who never let anyone get the drop on you, senses always sharp. 

So when you started missing easy targets and found yourself surprised by opponents one too many times, you knew it was a matter of time before the Ghoul started asking questions and not believing the first lie that you said. The first time it had happened, you blamed it on your lack of sleep, and he seemed to buy it. And maybe you convinced yourself it was just a lack of sleep, ignoring the darkness that had begun to emerge in your mind. You just needed to rest, was what you told yourself. 

It happened again a few days later, completely missing a target in front of you. Your reactions had begun to slow down, too, unable to avoid the swing of a blade, cutting across your cheek. It was like your body gave up on wanting to move, an unbearable weariness to your muscles that you were unable to shake. Later, as you bandaged the wound on your cheek, the Ghoul confronted you, demanding to know why you were acting so sloppy. You’d merely shrugged, offering up the idea that you were sick. This time he seemed less convinced, yet he had let the matter go. 

You knew why you were acting the way you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with depression, far from it. It was something you’d dealt with your entire life, coming and going like waves. You’d go days, weeks, months and you’d be fine, but then a flip would switch. You’d lose your energy, your motivation, wanting nothing more than to just lay on the ground and never get back up. You’d stop taking care of your body. You’d lose your appetite. Your thoughts would turn dark, ideations and ideas flashing in your mind, things that you’d never tell another soul. 

For the months you’d been traveling with the Ghoul, you’d been able to keep a reign on your depression. Sure, you had your off days, but nothing like this. It was like the universe was punishing you for having such an excellent past months. 

But how could you explain this to your traveling partner? How could you explain that you didn’t have the energy to continue existing, to continue fighting? He needed you to be alert, to not have your thoughts occupied with something, that in perspective to the Wasteland around you, was trivial. 

So you kept your mouth shut, forcing yourself to appear alert and unaffected. You forced those thoughts to the back of your mind. You forced your body to move, no matter how much it screamed at you to just be still.

But it seemed that all that bottling your thoughts up did was make it worse. As the days dragged on, you stopped talking, only muttering small words whenever the Ghoul asked you a question. You’d normally spend the time traveling conversing, and the Ghoul did try to initiate a conversation with you, but no amount of questions and joking and jabs could get you to break. Eventually, he fell quiet too.

Sleeping became a challenge. You’d think with how exhausted your body felt, you’d be able to sleep easily, but the opposite was true. Hours would tick by, and you’d lie awake, getting up the next morning more exhausted than before you went to bed. Your face, already a bit gaunt from living such a difficult life, had grown even more so, the circles around your eyes darkening and your lips growing more chapped. 

You stopped eating, turning away the food he offered you. After you went a few days without eating more than a bite, he practically forced spoonfuls of food into your mouth, snapping at you the entire time. It was humiliating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to change. You just wanted to be done. 

You could tell that your demeanor was starting to annoy the hell out of the Ghoul, whose words had turned shorter and snappier. If you took too long, he’d grab you by the shoulder and drag you along, like an upset parent with their child. Your cheeks would burn every time, tears pickling your eyes, and you’d hang your head. 

There was a tension growing between you and the Ghoul, your friendship growing thin. His guard was up constantly, unable to trust you any longer to watch his back, which hurt you more than any knife or gun. Soft glances disappeared, his gaze scrutinizing when he looked at you. Light touches from him reserved for when you were at rest were no more, as you chose to keep to yourself every night. Instead of walking side-by-side, you’d linger a few feet behind him. You pretended like it was easier this way, to make him push you away, but it was tearing you apart. 

But eventually, that tension snapped. Too many close calls, too many sluggish movements, too many half-hearted excuses finally made him break. You’d just gotten up for the day, another sleepless night behind you, and you were packing up your few belongings. You must’ve been taking too long, because you heard him sigh audibly, standing in the open doorway of the room you’d sheltered in for the night. “What’s your fuckin’ issue?” He growled, arms crossed tight over his chest.

You looked up, feigning confusion. “I dunno what-”

“Bullshit,” he cut you off. He began to walk towards you, his steps methodical, threatening. “You’ve been actin’ like this for weeks, and you’ve only offered me half-assed excuses.” He was seething, and understandably so. He crouched down in front of you, rendering you unable to escape. “So, you,” he stuck a finger in your chest, barely avoiding hitting you, “are gonna tell me why. And don’t even think ‘bout lyin’, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, heart hammering in your chest at the confrontation. Words flooded your mind, a full explanation on the tip of your tongue, yet you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter it. Your mouth opened and closed, struggling, until you eventually just gave up. Sighing, you just shook your head, which pissed him off even more. 

A disbelieving laugh left him, and he ran a gloved hand over his face. “No? You’re kiddin’ me, right?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Ya know, I’ve tried to be lenient. I bought into your fuckin’ lies that you were ‘just tired’, ‘just sick’. I tried to give ya space, to give ya time to get out of this. But you’re gonna get us both killed if ya don’t fix yourself. I can’t be distracted out there, constantly worried ‘bout you and keepin’ you alive, ‘cause it seems like that’s the last thing on your mind.”

He took a breath, steadying his rising voice. “So I’m gonna give ya one more chance to explain yourself, or else I’m leavin’ without ya.”

“Then leave.” Your response came almost immediately, your voice lacking any inflection. Even though in the back of your mind you were screaming at him not to leave, you kept an air of indifference about you, unable to make yourself care. It would be easier if he just left, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be putting anyone else in danger, and you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt you felt of him worrying about you so much. And it would be so much easier to just disappear if there was no one looking for you.

He wasn’t expecting that as a response if the look on his face told you anything. His brow muscles were raised, leaning back from you in shock. But the way he was watching you, it was like he was observing you in a different light, dots beginning to connect in his mind. “You’ll die out there without me.” 

You merely shrugged your shoulders, glancing down to continue packing your belongings, no longer able to look him in the eye. He didn’t respond, simply standing up with a sigh. You didn’t look up, not even as you heard him walk away, backing towards the entrance of the room. You didn’t look up, even as you heard the surprisingly gentle click of the door as it shut. You didn’t look up, even as the tears that you’d been holding for the past weeks finally fell.

You were alone.

You thought it would make you feel better like there would be a weight lifted off your shoulders. But everything just felt heavier, the thoughts in your mind becoming a tempest, making you physically weak. Expletives tumbled from your lips as you sagged down onto your arms, head hung. Of course, he’d fucking leave, you idiot. No one wants to deal with your moping.

A part of you wanted to chase after him, to beg him to stay, but you already felt pathetic enough. You couldn’t blame him for leaving, not at all. You were weighing him down, putting his life in danger; he said so himself. He could only deal with you for so long. You should be grateful that he didn’t leave sooner.

The sound of rustling fabric made you jump, finally looking up. The Ghoul had taken off his jacket, laying it across the back of the couch he had slept on, never having left the room at all. Stunned, you watched him sit, taking his hat off in the process and setting it on the floor. He finally caught your eye then, a soft look on his face, a look you hadn’t seen in a long while. 

“I thought you left,” you whispered, sitting back upright. Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and you tried to wipe the tears that had fallen on them. 

“I ain’t leavin’ ya, sweetheart.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Do you want me to go?” You’d never shaken your head faster in your life. “Then I’m stayin’.”

“But why?”

He sighed. “‘Cause I care ‘bout you. I… Is that too hard to believe?”

It is. Unable to find words, you just shrugged again. 

Something akin to regret or remorse flashed across his face, and muttering something under his breath he reclined against the couch. He was upset, but even now you could tell it was not because of you, at least not fully. “C’mere,” he murmured, patting the couch beside him. “You look like you’re gonna fuckin’ bolt at any second.”

Taking a steadying breath, you complied, albeit with some difficulty, your legs barely wanting to function. His gaze didn’t leave you once, as much as you wished it would, making you want to collapse in on yourself. The walk to the couch felt like it was miles long, but you eventually made your way over to it and him. 

He rolled his eyes when you just stood there in front of him, unsure of what to do with yourself. “Sit down, I ain’t gonna fuckin’ bite.” In another situation, you knew he’d add some comment like unless ya want me to, but he bit his tongue. The couch groaned as you sat next to the Ghoul, keeping a foot between your bodies. “Talk to me,” he commanded, yet his voice was gentle. “What the hell’s goin’ on?”

You picked at the skin around your nails, no doubt drawing blood. “I’m… I’m not quite sure how to explain it,” you responded, and you expected your words to upset the man even more. But he nodded his head slowly, an almost understanding look on his face. “I’m just… done."

“Done with… what? Bein’ out on the road?” You shook your head. “Travellin’ with me?” You shook your head again, this time more vehemently. “Done with what?” You knew that he knew the answer to his question, but he wanted you to say it.

“I’m done with… with existing. I just can’t bring myself to care anymore. I’m just so tired of it all.” You sagged back against the couch like speaking took a toll on your body. “I’m so tired.”

He didn’t respond for a while, mulling over your words. “That… that explains a lot,” he chuckled humourlessly. “Your mind won’t just leave ya the hell alone, will it? It's like all your mind can focus on are these terrible fuckin’ things, no matter what ya do. And it just weighs on ya, like a million pounds, getting worse with every passin’ day until you just wanna… give up.”

He explained it perfectly, and you cocked your head to the side, a bit confused about how he was able to do so. “I ain’t a stranger to what you’re goin’ through. We’re well fuckin’ acquainted, to say the least. So I shoulda recognized it sooner with ya.” 

He paused, sighing. “Wanna know somethin’?” You nodded. “I was too busy thinkin’ ‘bout what I did to upset ya that I didn’t bother to think of any other possible reason as to why you’re actin’ the way you are. But once I realized it wasn’t my fault, not entirely, instead of bein’ there for ya, I was an ass. I thought, because I’m a damn idiot, that you were just mopin’ around for the hell of it, putting us both in danger simply ‘cause you were tired or some shit. Not once did I stop to think why. And I apologize.”

“You don’t gotta-” He cut you off with a pointed look. “I… I accept your apology, then.”

He nodded slowly, content. “I’d like to help ya, sweetheart. I know nothin’ I say or do is gonna make it go away like that… but I’d like to try. Whatever ya need from me, and you’ve got it.”

“I’m not sure what I need exactly,” you admitted quietly.

“When ya figure it out, will ya let me know?” You nodded.

“Just… be patient. As difficult as that is for you.” You hadn’t meant for the jab to come out, but you weren’t taking it back. Especially when a loud laugh left the Ghoul, making a smile of your own appear on your face. It was faint, yet it was there.

An almost starstruck expression appeared on his face, his laughter dying out. “I missed seein’ ya smile,” he murmured as if it was a subconscious thought.

You ducked your head, making him laugh again. “As for bein’ patient, well, I can be that, if that’s what ya need.”

“It’ll take some time,” you cautioned again, indirectly giving him a chance to back out of this. 

“Time ain’t an issue. I’ll wait as long as it fuckin’ takes.”

“You mean it?” Your voice was so soft, barely audible to either of you. 

You watched as one of his gloved hands inched towards you, palm upturned. Tentatively, you placed your in his, eyes growing wide when he brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “I swear,” he uttered, sealing the promise with another press of his lips.

As you returned your tingling hand to your lap, his eyes scanned over your face, a furrow appearing between his brow. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten somethin’? Somethin’ that I didn’t force ya to eat,” he added when you opened your mouth to respond. 

Your silence said enough, and he leaned down to his bag, which he had placed beside the couch when he sat. After a few moments of rustling through, he handed you a small bag of what appeared to be jerky, as well as a small canteen of water. “It ain’ human,” he added when you eyed the bag suspiciously before taking it.

The jerky was salty and tough when you took a bite, not quite wanting to, but unable to not eat under his gaze. You ate in silence until your stomach was full and your teeth hurt from the tough material. Taking a swig of water, you could feel your eyes growing heavy, eating seemingly draining your energy more than replenishing it. Stifling a yawn, you shoved the canteen back into his hand, and you noticed he had an almost pleased look on his face. 

You were confused, though, when he stood, making his way to the entrance of the room. For a moment, those thoughts flashed in your mind that told you that he was finally leaving, that he realized how pathetic you were. But instead of doing any of those things, you watched as he simply wedged a chair under the handle of the door, like he had done before you went to bed for the night. 

“What’re you doing?”

“We takin’ the day off. Doctor’s orders.”

“But aren’t we supposed to be in Filly in a few days?”

“We’ll be fine. You are gonna spend today catchin’ up on some much-needed rest.” He stood in front of you now, a moth-eaten blanket in his hands. 

“And what are you gonna do?” You asked, and he shrugged. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout me, sweetheart. Go ‘head, lie down.”

Your eyes quickly scanned the couch, and you took a deep breath before speaking again. “The couch is big enough for us both, no?”

For the second time that day, you’d stunned him with your responses. “Is… is that what ya want?”

Encouraged that he hadn’t just outrightly said no, you nodded your head, and a fond look crossed his features. He handed you the blanket before sitting once more, but instead of his back being against the cushions, he rested it against one of the armrests, not before tucking a pillow in front of it. 

Once he was situated, he opened up his arms to you, and you could’ve laughed at how uncertain he looked. Hands rested on your body when you laid down, head on his chest, laying on your stomach, and you made sure the blanket covered both your bodies as best you could. You weren’t too worried about covering all of you, though, with the sheer amount of warmth he was radiating. 

His eyes were already on you when you glanced up, a smile pulling at his lips. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely audible, but he heard it. 

You felt his fidget with something in his hand behind your back, but you didn’t have to wait long to find out what he was doing. You felt fingers run along your scalp, making you shudder, before combing through any hair there. “Alright?”

You sighed contently, nodding your head before letting it fall back onto his chest. He continued to run his fingers there, his other hand tracing patterns across your shoulders. You hadn’t realized how tired you were until now, finding it hard to keep your eyes open. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe from the world outside this room. Safe from the thoughts that plagued your mind. Safe from everything. 

He didn’t have to see your face to know that you were struggling to stay awake. “Go to bed. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Promise?”

“Ain’t fuckin’ like I’m gonna be able to get up,” he chuckled, before taking a more serious tone. “I promise.”

That was all you needed to hear before you finally let the final strings of consciousness leave your grasp. Before you lost control of all your senses, though, you felt him lean down, pressing a barely-there kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

You believed him.

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 23

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut, fluff, angst, quiet hurt & a touch of heartbreak

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Oh, you'll hate me again for ending it like this. Have fun, guys 😂

<< 22 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

23. Every Breath You Take

“More?” Dean offers the half-emptied wine bottle and holds it over Y/N’s glass as they sit around the dinner table. The actress throws him a raised look with a little smile playing on her lips.

“Are you trying to get me drunk? You don’t have to. I’m already sleeping here,” she points out in amusement.

“Yeah, but when you’re buzzed, you let me do more shit.” The green-eyed director smirks.

“Ew, Dad!” Claire groans next to him. “I’m right here. This is why I don’t wanna do family dinner with you guys.”

“This was actually a nice idea,” Y/N says with a smile so bright it shows her dimples. “Thanks for cooking tonight. Perfect way to start our last week of filming.”

Dean’s heart stings slightly at her words, but he covers it with a tight smile. The last three weeks passed by rather quickly, and each week, he grew more worried, more nervous, more depressed, and more anxious. This was it. Seven more days before it all imploded. Six more nights before he might not see her again.

He has been wracking his brain, trying to come up with solutions to save the show – to keep her. Cas and Jo are out on fairs, networking with networks and showing their tape to other producers in hopes of getting picked up by someone else, still without any success.

“So, uh, any plans so far? Heard some of the girls are going to auditions, looking for other jobs,” Dean notes and nurses his beer. He doesn’t hold it against them. It’s the business, after all, and everyone’s trying to survive and find their next paycheck.

Y/N bobs her head and sets her wine glass down. “Yeah, actually. I was thinking about taking your advice and going to New York for auditions. I like the idea of doing theater or maybe even a musical.”

Dean forces a supportive smile on his face and hides the heartbreak in his ribcage. “Yeah, you should. You’d be great at it.”

“But, uhm, for now, I’m actually driving to San Diego in a few days for an audition for a musical. I’m not gonna get it, but I figured it’d be fun,” she tells him, and even though she downplays it, Dean can see the excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, why wouldn’t you get it?” he encourages her. He promised himself he’d always be her cheerleader, no matter his own feelings on the subject. He’s trying a new thing these days – it’s called being less selfish.

But God, he hopes she gets it. San Diego is a lot closer to LA than New York.

Y/N snorts into her glass, chuckling. “It’s a Sondheim musical, Dean. I’m not expecting to get it. It’s just good practice.”

“Aiming high, huh?” Dean laughs despondently and takes a big gulp of beer to choke down his tears.

Dammit, Dean thinks. He wishes he could call the dude and tell him what a great woman and actress Y/N is. He’d be lucky to have her in his production. Maybe the director could bribe him to hire her? Would that take things too far?

“How are you gonna get down there?” Dean’s eyes drift to the leg in a cast that rests on a chair next to him.

Y/N gives him a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know. Take the bus?”

“I’ll drive you,” he says with a swig of his beer. See? Supportive. He’s really proud of himself, although he wishes he were a lot drunker right now.

“Ooh, uh, Claire, I borrowed two dresses from Alex for you. I put them in your room. You need to pick one for your Winter Formal,” Y/N tells his daughter with a bright smile.

But Claire shakes her head with teenage defiance. “I don’t need a dress. Jack and I are going ironically.”

Dean’s brow furrows in confusion as he blinks at his kid. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Claire rolls her eyes in response and groans. “Ugh, Dad, you’d think for someone who lived through counterculture, you’d understand.” With that, she gets up from the dinner table and takes her empty plate to the kitchen sink.

“I know what she means,” Y/N mumbles nonchalantly.

Dean’s bewildered gaze darts to her. “Really? What?”

Y/N coolly shrugs her shoulders as she sips on her wine before she sighs defeatedly. “Fine, I don’t know. I just wanted to sound cooler than you,” she admits with a cute smile.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“I’m going to bed. Good night! Don’t be too loud!” Claire yells before the door to her room slams shut.

Dean watches Y/N as she leans back in her chair with a blissful sigh and empties her glass. She has pretty much spent every night at his place since the hospital. At this point, the director has gotten so used to it that he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if one night she didn’t. Why can’t it stay this way?

He never thought he’d be someone who wants to have family dinners every night.

“Too tired for dessert?” he asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows and his signature smirk.

Y/N laughs lightly. “I wish one of these days you’d offer me actual dessert,” she quips.

“Like what? Chocolate cake? Pie? I’d actually love some pie. Maybe we should get one for tomorrow night,” Dean muses, chuckling.

Y/N grins mischievously at him and leans her elbows on the dinner table, resting her chin in her palms. “Maybe you can eat pie off of me.”

Dean curls his lips, his cheeks blushing at the idea alone. His dick seems to like it, too. “God, I love… your brain,” he quickly corrects his course before the wrong words slip out.

And it’s not like it isn’t true. While Y/N hasn’t been able to act and tumble around the ring, she’s been coming up with storylines and basically coordinated matches for the past three episodes. She’s also constantly by his side and mans the booth with him. If Dean didn’t sleep with her and like her, he’d actually be scared she’s coming for his job. She’s pretty much directing at this point, and he just lets her because, well, did he actually ever care?

But his declaration is only a small part of the truth, the full truth being that he loves more than just her damn brain and has for a long while. He’s been trying to say the words for weeks now, started and stopped a hundred times, and tried to pack his feelings into a coherent sentence that honestly shouldn’t be more than three words long.

However, those are some big three words. Monstrous for Y/N. And deep down, Dean knows she might feel like he does, too, but can’t admit it and doesn’t know what the hell to do with it. To her, this little arrangement between them is nothing more than friends who fuck. Only Dean’s aware that they’re actually in a deeply serious relationship, which is maddeningly ridiculous.

But hey, if he keeps his mouth shut, they might make it another five years like this without Y/N running away, so that’s something.

Dean then rises from his seat and offers his hands to Y/N. Her leg is still in a cast, so she has been wobbling around on crutches or hopping clumsily across a room. It’s pretty darn cute.

“Thank you,” Y/N says gratefully as Dean helps her up and slings her arm around his neck before he fully hoists her into his arms. She giggles as he carries her into the bedroom. “You don’t have to do this every night, you know. I can walk just fine.”

“Says you, but truth is, you’ve never seen yourself walk on these things. It’s pathetic,” he teases her and plops her carefully down on the bed.

He flings off his shirt and removes his jeans and underwear as Y/N unbuttons her blouse. The mattress dips as he climbs into the bed and helps her discard her pants. It’s routine at this point, but Dean has really started to cherish the stability. Every morning when he wakes up and smiles at her, he loves knowing that he’ll fall asleep right next to her at night all over again.

Gently, he spreads her legs and slots between them. His lips find hers in the moonlit dark and kiss her with deep affection and burning love, always pouring his whole heart into each kiss and hoping one of these days it’ll stick.

Grabbing a condom from the nightstand, he rolls it over his throbbing length and positions his dickhead at her entrance, slipping into her tight channel till she’s full of him. Her lips part as the same little gasp escapes her that he hears every time he enters her. He loves hearing that noise almost as much as he loves to hear the big one when she comes and the medium ones in-between.

Sometimes, Dean makes her come before, but on nights like these, when she’s already had half a bottle of wine, he rather works quick. While wine makes her louder and more daring, it also renders her quite sleepy.

“Fuck,” she sighs and closes her eyes with a euphoric smile, her pussy gripping his cock tight as she clenches around him. “You’re always so good at that.”

Dean smiles amusedly. Wine makes her chatty, too. “I haven’t even done anything yet, sweetheart,” he remarks.

“Well, I guess I just-… I just love your cock,” she says bluntly and grins up at him. “And those lips.”

See? Wine.

“These ones?” Dean asks teasingly and leans down, pulling one of her nipples between them till she squirms.

“Uh-huh, yes…” she moans softly and cards her hands through his hair, causing a groan to pass his lips. “And that tongue.”

“This one?” Dean lets his tongue roll over that same nipple till it peaks, feeling her arch her back underneath him.

“Yes, and God, those hands and fingers…” she almost whines.

“Those two?” Dean snakes a hand between their bodies, two of his fingers finding her clit and drawing tickling circles.

There’s no more strength left for words. She bites harshly down on her bottom lip and nods vividly. Her cunt clutches him tightly, eliciting a giddy chuckle from him. He loves making her squirm.

Three more squeezes, and he knows he has to move before she grows impatient. He knows her well by now, knows every little detail about her, and loves that he does. They haven’t even been able to do half the things he wants to do to her due to her current injury and inability to move (or bend) as freely.

And yet, he’s still not fucking bored, not in the slightest. He keeps waiting for it, but it never comes.

On the contrary, he appreciates the feeling of knowing someone so deeply and intimately as he knows Y/N. She has become a part of his soul, and he doesn’t know if he could ever cut her out without severely hurting himself. He’s not sure if he could survive a wound this deep.

“Dean, please…”

That was the fourth – like clockwork.

Dean manages to thrust twice before loud punk rock music shakes the walls and drowns out every noise in the entire house. Hell, the whole neighborhood can probably hear it.

Frustrated, his head drops momentarily to Y/N’s shoulder as the actress snorts a giggle. He can feel her body and cunt trembling around him, but not for the reason it should.

“Claire!” Dean shouts angrily. “Turn that fucking music down! Y/N’s trying to sleep!”

“No, she’s not!” his kid yells back through the wall and the unbearable music. “I know you guys are having sex! I don’t wanna hear anything!”

“We’re not having sex,” Dean barks and watches as Y/N gapes at him in sheer playfulness.

“Wow, you lie like that to your kid?” she teases him.

“What d’you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m inside of her now’?” Dean retorts wryly, making Y/N burst into uncontrollable laughter as she snorts into his shoulder. “Can you please stop laughing while I’m trying to fuck you? My soldier’s already retreating.”

But Y/N only laughs harder at that, tears streaming down her cheeks as Dean’s lips purse with a sigh through his nose. She then exhales a deep, long breath, trying to calm herself. He’s seen her do this very move a hundred times during an acting scene.

She clears her throat and tries to force a more serious look onto her features. “How about a little Russian motivation?” she says in her infamous accent and smiles when his cock twitches in agreement. “Maybe some oral manipulation, yes?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.” Dean grins and leans down to capture her lips. “God, I love yo… your pussy,” he quickly corrects himself once more. That was a close one.

Alright, don’t look at him like that and don’t judge him. He’s trying. He really is.

But Jesus fucking Christ, he loves living these days. Who knew his forties would be the best time of his life?

With a big yawn, Y/N rubs her eyes and stretches her arms over her head. The shower in the main bathroom is running with Dean already in it. She grabs her crutches and hops to the window, opening the blinds to let some sunlight in.

She takes a deep breath and enjoys the morning silence for a moment, her gaze drifting out the quiet neighborhood. It has never been this peaceful in the motel. The last three weeks, she has really appreciated waking up in Dean’s bed. She knows she’s probably overstaying her welcome at this point, but he hasn’t kicked her to the curb yet, so she hasn’t been in a hurry to return to the motel, either.

He was right – the memory foam mattress is fucking heaven, especially with a broken ankle.

All in all, she imagined being benched for the show would be a lot worse than it is. Dean’s done a great job of incorporating her anywhere outside of the ring. She’s helping with storylines, training, directing, producing – really anything that could use a few tweaks. The green-eyed director is unfashionably nice to her. Maybe it’s the sex or their friendship or a combination of both. Either way, she’s grateful for him.

However, there’s this tiny voice inside her head that keeps telling her there’s a reason why Dean’s been so nice, and it’s not just the sex. It’s certain kisses and touches and looks – especially the looks – that make her believe there’s something lying underneath the surface. An iceberg so gigantic it could sink the Titanic. Whenever she catches his clandestine gazes from her periphery, there’s this inexplicable feeling that creeps through her veins.

Her peace is disturbed when excessive knocking and an uninterrupted ringing of the doorbell draw her attention to the front door. A part of her expects to find her best friend behind it. Only Jo could be this ruthless and obnoxious.

Y/N hurries to the door as fast as she can, which isn’t fast at all, considering she’s on crutches. Everything is just awkward and slow these days, but she’s been practicing moving around in hopes of joining the show again for the final episode. Billie and Donna have been helping her, too.

But as Y/N opens the door, she’s not greeted by the familiar blonde but by a brunette stranger instead. The only similarity the woman shares with Jo is that she’s incredibly hot and angry, too.

“Can I help you?” Y/N asks with a look of bewilderment, although she shouldn’t be surprised to find a mad woman on Dean’s doorstep.

“I’m Lisa Braeden. I’m looking for my daughter,” the woman says, somewhat impatiently.

Oh.

“Uh…”

Y/N stumps for a moment, eyeing the woman in front of her closely. So, this is Claire’s mother. Dean’s ex. She tries not to feel insecure around her, but it’s hard, considering the woman is a bombshell with perfect curves and flawless features. And if she looks like that now, Y/N wonders what she must’ve looked like seventeen years ago.

The actress suddenly feels very exposed in only the director’s flannel. Truthfully, she looks like she just crawled out of a gutter. Maybe it’s the fact she has just woken up and is sporting major bed-head, but Lisa probably thinks Dean took in a homeless person. The cast and crutches don’t help, either. And then, Y/N wonders why a part of her cares at all what the brunette thinks and reminds herself it’s not a competition.

“Dean? Dean!”

Her voice carries a certain amount of panic that’s probably uncalled for. Yet, it helps. The shower turns off, and not a minute later, Dean stands next to her with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his broad chest still glistening with droplets of water.

He does know how to make an entrance.

Dean’s brow is deeply creased when he takes in the woman at the door, lacking a sense of recognition, however. “What the fuck is all that noise?”

“I’m the fucking noise,” Lisa replies dryly. “I’m here for my kid.”

“Oh…” Dean stumps as well. Then, he swallows thickly and gives her a nervous smile. “Hi, uhm, I’m Dean Winchester.”

“I know who you fucking are, you moron,” Lisa huffs, shaking her head. “You got me pregnant. Where’s Claire?” When neither Dean nor Y/N answer, Lisa rolls her eyes and waltzes past the two inside the house. “Claire!”

“Sure, come on in,” Dean mutters under his breath and shares a wide-eyed look with Y/N, hoping for some guidance.

The actress eyes him up and down, pensively licking her lips. “Maybe you should get dressed.”

With some pants and a shirt on, Dean and Y/N have retreated to the kitchen and sip quietly on their cups of coffee while Lisa and Claire scream at each other. It’s a classic mother and teenage daughter battle. Claire fights for freedom, while Lisa fights for control.

“I had sex with that woman seventeen years ago. Now she’s in my house, yelling at my kid,” the director voices his thoughts out loud, a hint of trepidation shimmering in his green eyes.

“Yup, life has a way of catching up with you. Kinda learned that this year,” Y/N notes with pursed lips and sends him a smile. “But hey, they’re your family now. Kinda nice, right?”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” Dean huffs with a bitter look and watches Y/N place her mug in the sink.

“I should probably go. Leave you guys to figure this out,” Y/N announces, one hop on a healthy foot away from walking out the door. “I’ll call a cab.”

“No, don’t! You can’t leave me here alone with them,” Dean pleads, the sheer panic and desperation visible in his eyes and audible in his voice. His gaze bores into her. “C’mon, I need you. This is one of those, you know, friendship moments. Like abortions and getting over coke addictions.”

Y/N lets out a small sigh. How could she leave him after everything he’s done for her? She basically has no choice but to stay and help him through this. “What d’you want me to do? Mediate?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Dean shrugs helplessly. “I just know I’m gonna say all the wrong shit at the wrong time. Please. I don’t wanna lose my kid. Help me.”

As she catches his gaze, there’s that inexplicable feeling creeping through her veins again. This time, it even tugs on her heart.

“Okay, uhm, alright. I’ll stay,” she promises him, offering him a small smile of comfort.

Unbeknownst to her, though, Dean comes close to saying the three ominous words once more. It’s getting harder every day to keep them inside. How long does he have until he bursts? He feels like a ticking time bomb.

“Maybe we should all sit down and talk?” Y/N suggests as soon as Claire has stormed into her room and slammed the door in upset.

“About what?” Lisa barks, half-annoyed as she rests her hands on her squared-off hips. “She’s been lying to me for months.”

“Okay, in my defense, she told me you were crazy,” Dean explains with an innocent shrug.

“I don’t care if she told you I beat her and locked her into the basement. If a kid has run away from home, you call their mother,” Lisa retorts furiously.

Dean purses his lips in defeat for a moment, especially when Y/N seems to agree. She’s kind of his moral compass, but he’s not ready to accept his loss yet. “Well, you didn’t call me to tell me you were having a kid. My kid,” he argues and knows it’ll probably backfire. He can tell by Y/N’s frown.

“Oh, excuse me for not calling the guy who didn’t stay for breakfast,” Lisa counters with an eye roll.

Dean’s brow furrows, shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s what happened.” Granted, he’s been high for two decades now.

“I asked if you wanted pancakes. You said, ‘No, thanks, but that was fun.’ And then you got into your car and bolted, never to be seen again,” Lisa recalls, frowning.

“Uhm, that sounds like it was a long time ago,” Y/N interjects in his defense, chuckling nervously. “He’s a different and more mature person now.”

Dean’s heart swells to twice its size. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about him. Although, he can tell she only said it to win Lisa over. She’s a good actress, making even him believe her words. But she’s helping him, so it’s the thought that counts.

“Thanks for the input. Who are you again? Are you his fucking maid?” Lisa arches a brow at her, eyeing her up and down.

“No, she’s not my maid,” Dean replies fiercely but then doesn’t know what else to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Friend? Nothing sounds right. “She’s my, uhm, she’s my actress. She’s my… You know, she’s… She’s Y/N.”

At that, Y/N’s brow draws together in the middle with a tilt of her head. Dean surmises that answer probably sounded even weirder.

“Yeah, I can see you’ve changed so much.” Lisa scoffs sarcastically and folds her arms over her chest, her patience running low.

Y/N subtly clears her throat, deciding to step in. God knows the director needs all the help he can get. “Okay, uhm, it doesn’t really matter who I am,” she says and shares a look with Dean, who anxiously chews his bottom lip raw. “What matters is that Dean has really connected with Claire over the last few months. He’s enrolled her in high school, she has joined AV club, she’s got a really nice and sweet boyfriend.” Dean grimaces at that last part, but Y/N skillfully ignores it and continues, “They’re going to Winter Formal tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m chaperoning,” Dean announces proudly. “This dance is very meaningful to her.”

Lisa snorts a laugh, clearly amused. “My kid does not go to dances.”

“Yes, I do!” Claire suddenly stands in the middle of the living room with the brightest smile. It’s freaky, really. She gleefully holds up the two dresses Y/N brought over last night, feigning her excitement. “Which one should I wear?”

Lisa and Dean disagree on the dress choice, but when Y/N sides with Lisa, Claire takes the hint and quickly disappears back into her room.

“It’s just one night, and it will give you two some time to catch up. Figure this out,” Y/N advocates suggestively.

“Yeah, what she said,” Dean agrees and clears his dry throat, wishing he had a bottle of booze in his hand to calm his nerves. Man, in stressful situations like these, he does miss coke sometimes. But fucking Y/N has been a great substitute, so maybe he’ll just do that as soon as that crazy woman leaves his house again. “Look, I get that you’re angry. But I’m really trying here, okay? She’s doing great at school, I gave her a curfew… I wanna make up for lost time,” he explains sincerely. Y/N sends him a proud smile.

“Fine, one night, but tomorrow we’re leaving,” Lisa relents with a sigh. “I’m not gonna indulge this fucking father-daughter fantasy,” she huffs and then finally storms out of the house.

Y/N exhales a long sigh of relief. “Well, that went better than expected.”

“You think?” Dean checks insecurely. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Y/N hadn’t been here to support him. “You’re coming tonight, right?”

Surprised by the request, Y/N’s brow meets her hairline. “You want me to go to your daughter’s Winter Formal with you?”

“Yes, obviously,” Dean states matter-of-factly and blinks at her. “You can’t leave me alone with that woman.”

Y/N heaves another sigh as she looks at him. “Okay, fine,” she surrenders.

Sitting on the bleachers of a fully decorated gym, Y/N realizes she has kind of missed high school. At least, everything used to be much simpler back then. Your crush would ask you to go steady, you’d say yes or no, and then you’d be broken up shortly after prom.

Adulthood is complicated. People are complicated. And love is goddamn unfathomably complicated.

“It’s so weird seeing her with her first high school boyfriend,” Lisa notes with a small sigh next to her. “I still remember her drawing with crayons. Now, she’s running miles away, lying, and making out with a boy.”

“Yeah, teenage romance is a lot more intense,” Y/N says, chuckling softly.

“She won’t wear a dress to my wedding. Refused to. Screamed bloody murder,” Lisa says thoughtfully. “But after spending a few months with her estranged father, she suddenly puts one on.”

“People are complicated,” Y/N reiterates her earlier sentiment.

Claire is complicated. Dean is complicated. And Y/N? She might be the most complicated of all.

“My fiancé is not,” Lisa says, a delicate smile playing across her lips. It’s enough to show her happiness. “I always used to date these guys that would run so hot and then completely cold the next minute. I never knew where I stood. It was exhausting.”

“Yeah, I get it…”

Y/N’s eyes drift to Dean as he chats with one of the other dads by the buffet. She doesn’t know what the director wants from her. She doesn’t know what their relationship even is. One minute, it feels epic, like a love so legendary it should only exist on the silver screen. And the next minute, it feels trivial, like it should’ve never existed at all.

But Dean’s not the problem. Deep down, she knows what that creeping feeling in the pits of her stomach is. And she knows she’s not ready for it. Truth is, Y/N has no idea what she wants and feels lost. Because if she admits one thing, it’d mean the end of another. If she stays in LA for a guy, what would that mean for her career? She doesn’t want to end up like Jo. She’s finally about to have it all, only to realize both at the same time are a mere dream.

And worst of all, even if she did know what she wanted, she’s doesn’t know if she deserves it.

“So, what d’you do, son?” an older man next to Dean asks. He’s already balding and gray, as is the scruffy beard he’s sporting. His suit jacket with a name tag that reads “Chaperone” looks a little worn and sleazy, too. The director figured he’d be one of the oldest dads here, so this guy comes as a pleasant surprise.

“I’m a director of a women’s wrestling show,” Dean replies and takes a sip from the fruit punch. None of the kids have spiked it yet, which is quite the disappointment. What’s happening to today’s youth, huh? “And you?”

“Oh, nice.” The man nods with a smile and pulls out a business card from his suit jacket, handing it to Dean. “Bobby Singer. I own a small chain of strip clubs, although my wife Ellen would probably like me to tell you I’m a small business owner.”

“Got it.” Dean chuckles and glances at the card in his hands. “Bobby’s Body Shop. Oh, hey, I know this one! ‘Where the girls are hotter than the asphalt,’” he quotes the club’s tagline proudly, grinning. “I’m there all the time! Actually got one of your girls in my show.”

Bobby chuckles. “Well, next time you’re there, ask for me. I’ll get you a discount.”

“Thanks.” Dean smirks. And Cas claims you can only network on the fucking golf course. “Oh, hey, you should catch one of our shows. It’s our last one this week. It’s pretty badass. We’re over at the old gym in Watts.”

“Alright, I’ll see you there,” Bobby says with a smile.

Dean’s eyes then drift to Y/N on the bleachers. Last time he checked on her, she was still chatting with Lisa, but the brunette has since left. And as he glances at her now, Y/N has found herself encircled by a group of horny teenage boys, causing his brows to draw together and meet in the middle. They’re like fucking vultures.

“Shoo!” Dean barks sternly at the young men as he approaches the group and watches them scurry away with their tails tugged between their scrawny legs.

With an amused smile, Y/N arches an eyebrow at him. “Glad you’ve decided to join me. It was getting crowded. I’ve turned down about twenty offers to dance.”

“Look at you, you little heartbreaking cougar,” Dean retorts with a teasing smile. “You’re gonna turn me down, too?”

“I have a broken ankle. Did you forget that part? I can’t dance,” Y/N replies.

“Oh, c’mon, that never stopped you before. ‘Sides, I’ve got two working legs and can’t dance, either. So, what d’you say, huh?” Dean holds out his hands for her to grasp.

“Fine,” Y/N relents and grabs his hands, hopping to her feet. “Let’s do some awkward swaying.”

“That’s the spirit.” Dean laughs and rests his palms on her hips, helping her stand as she locks her arms around his neck.

“Is that what you had in mind?” Y/N asks teasingly as she looks up and meets his gaze.

“Kinda.” Dean dips his head and catches her lips, deepening the kiss with his tongue slipping inside her mouth.

“Dean,” she scolds him softly with blushed cheeks and a giggle that surely won’t keep him from doing shit. “There’s people here. Teenagers.”

“So? It’s nothing they wouldn’t do,” Dean remarks mischievously. “And no one’s here that we know. Claire’s caught us like a million times already, and Lisa doesn’t care. C’mon, we never get to do those things in public,” he appeals with a wiggle of his brows.

“Alright,” Y/N surrenders with a small sigh and a smile, tiptoeing up on one foot to press her soft lips back on his. She feels him breath into the kiss, cherishing every second of it. His hands wander from her hips to cup her cheeks, causing her to almost topple over as he forgets that he’s been steadying her. “Whoa, Dean!”

Her giggle interrupts the kiss as she tightens her grip around his neck before he moves his hands back to their place on her hips, offering her support again. She leans her head against his chest, and he rests his chin on her crown.

“Sorry, got carried away there for a moment,” he apologizes with a snicker, pecking the top of her head gently.

“Yeah, that happens with you sometimes,” she teases and buries her head deeper into his shirt. “Your heart’s beating really fast. Are you on something again?”

Dean wants to say it’s love, but that sounds too fucking cheesy.

“Nope, still clean,” he replies instead and doesn’t take offense in her question. “Just nerves, I guess. There’s something I wanna tell you,” he says and licks his lips, swallowing thickly.

Y/N looks up and finds his green eyes, her brow knitting in curiosity. But there’s a perceptive shimmer in her orbs, and Dean knows she can already anticipate what’s coming next. Judging by her shift in weight, he can tell she doesn’t want him to say it out loud.

“Shit, uhm…” She squeezes her eyes shut and fumbles for an excuse. Dean gives her a plethora of time to find a believable one. “I have to go. I promised the girls we’d work out a plot for the finale together tonight, celebrate our last week.”

Dean’s lips quiver but manage to find a smile. “You sure?”

Reluctantly, Y/N still nods and lets out a tense breath. “Yeah.”

It feels like dancing around a big, pink elephant between them. Both of them pretend it’s invisible, although it’s painfully not. It’s even roaring or hooting or whatever the fuck elephants do.

“Alright, I’ll drive you to the motel,” Dean capitulates with a resigned nod.

“No, uh, stay,” she tells him and clumsily hops back to the bleachers to grab her crutches. “I’ll get a cab. You should spend your night with Claire. Figure things out with Lisa.”

“Okay,” Dean caves once more but then grabs hold of her, pulling her to his lips. The kiss is fervent and heated and desperate. So fucking desperate. “One for the road,” he says with a painful smile as he draws back. He doesn’t want to admit that it might be the last one they have shared.

Y/N’s look tells him she feels the finality, too. It’s the epilogue of the best book he’s ever read. The end credits of his favorite movie. The final episode of a show he loved.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly with a hesitant lip bite and a harrowing swallow.

“Don’t be. Have fun, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dean says and sends her one last weak smile before he watches her walk away with an aching heart.

24. Don't Dream It's Over

Honestly, even my cold, cold heart weeped at the end there. Poor Dean 😢💔 But as you can guess from next week's title, we're not done yet 😉

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus

Everything Dean: @SnowAyumi

[theaskywalker]

hi, it's me again! I wanted to ask something that's a bit less fluff if that's okay:)

(idk if you do smut, couldn't find anything about that, so sorry if you don't)

I was thinking Seth clearwater and fem!reader

(again soz)

having a honeymoon! like Bellas but, little longer and softer

(Because has a soft boy and I love him for that. would love for him to break the bed if you put that in there:)

thank you for reading and drink water and go cute a tasty snack!

(You could do Jacob black with this to if you would like I've read all the good Fics of both and can't get enough of them:( .)

Honeymoon

Seth Clearwater x Fem!Reader

A/N: This is my first time writing smut so I hope it turned out decent. A big thank you to ghosty-boo-shh for the request 😊

Warnings: Mentions of oral sex (fem!receiving), Unprotected sex

❥ Seth Clearwater had always been a romantic at heart.

❥ When he first imprinted on you, he spent hours fantasizing about important relationship milestones such as moving in together, getting married and starting your own family.

❥ He desperately wanted all of these.

❥ If it was up to Seth, the two of you would get married right after your relationship became official.

❥ But you wanted to take the relationship one step at a time and he respected that.

❥ Fast forward to your two-year anniversary, when Seth decided that it was finally time to make you Mrs Clearwater.

❥ Seth suggested celebrating your anniversary at your favourite restaurant in Port Angeles.

❥ After a delicious meal Seth remarked that it was time for a dessert.

❥ The waiter came minutes later with a chocolate cake and placed it right in the middle of the table.

❥ To your surprise the cake had a large ''Will you marry me?'' sign in white frosting.

❥ When you looked over at Seth, he was already kneeling down holding a small box with a beautiful diamond ring.

"Yes" you replied instantly and hugged him with tears in your eyes.

❥ Everyone was ecstatic when you announced it.

❥ Especially the pack.

❥ Preparations for the wedding started right after the announcement.

❥ You and Seth had agreed on a small ceremony at the beach and a barbeque afterwards for your family and close friends.

❥ The pack (minus Leah) set up the whole event and made sure that every little detail was perfect for the big day.

❥ They had help by the vampires of course as most of the Cullens had taken a liking to Seth.

❥ With the boys working on the wedding venue, you and the girls set out to send the invitations and select the dress.

❥ Selecting the right dress was easier said than done.

❥ Leah and Alice had completely different opinions on the matter.

❥ Alice advised you to go for something fancy.

❥ And Leah thought that a boho design would be more appropriate.

❥ But the final word on the matter was yours to make.

❥ So, after many dress fittings you finally found the one.

❥ The weeks passed and the big day finally came.

❥ Seth couldn't take his eyes off you as you walked down the aisle.

❥ Looking breathtaking in your white dress.

❥ Vows were exchanged and with a tender kiss you and Seth became husband and wife.

❥ At the after-wedding barbeque you had the time of your life dancing with your husband and close friends.

❥ When it was time to leave for the honeymoon, Carlisle and Esme surprised both you and Seth by giving you plane tickets for Rio de Janeiro and full access to Isle Esme.

❥ Seth and you were beyond grateful for the gift.

❥ The flight to Rio de Janeiro and boat ride to Isle Esme filled you with excitement about what was to come.

❥ Upon arriving on the house that would be your home for the next month, Seth gently picked you up and carried you inside.

❥ You giggled at the gesture and thanked him with a kiss when he placed you down.

"Shall we take a bath, Mrs Clearwater?" he asked.

"Of course" you replied with a wink.

❥ The two of you headed to the bathroom .

❥ While Seth filled the bathtub, you slowly removed your dress and lingerie.

❥ Without breaking eye contact with him.

❥ Seth felt a lump in his throat as he stared at your curves.

❥ Feeling hornier as each minute passed.

❥ You approached Seth and helped him remove his clothing.

❥ Once the bathtub was ready, you and Seth proceeded to enter.

❥ Seth rubbed your back, helping your muscles relax.

❥ You returned the favour by lovingly massaging his scalp.

❥ What started as a relaxing and intimate moment between a newlywed couple quickly grew into a passionate make out session.

❥ Seth couldn't stop kissing your lips as his hands travelled on your body, before settling on your thighs.

❥ You straddled his hips and deepened the kiss.

❥ His wolf side took over and he picked you up, heading out of the bathtub in a hurry and laying you onto the canopied bed.

❥ Not caring for the mess your wet and shampooed bodies left on the sheets.

❥ Seth left steamy kisses on your neck and breasts.

❥ He then moved to your inner thighs and eventually found the delicate spot between your legs.

❥ Soft moans escaped your lips as his kisses set your body on fire.

"I'm close" you whispered while tightly clutching his black hair.

❥ Seth knew exactly what you wanted and soon the pleasurable feeling spread through your whole body.

❥ He then kissed you hard on the lips and awaited for your consent to take things further.

❥ You nodded impatiently.

❥ Seth entered you gently at first and then picked up his speed.

❥ Pounding relentlessly into you.

❥ Stretching your tight walls with each thrust.

❥ Seth couldn't get enough of this.

❥ He felt divine when inside you.

❥ It was a mutual feeling...

❥ Things got so heated that he ended up using his wolfish strength a little too much.

❥ Resulting in the both of you landing on the floor.

❥ Bye bye bed...

❥ You and Seth laughed it off and continued your erotic dance without interruption.

❥ Having your climaxes simultaneously on the floor. covered with feathers from the mattress.

❥ After getting a proper bath and tidying up the mess in the bedroom, you layed in Seth's arms and enjoyed how blishful it was.

The honeymoon had just started and it was going to be a memorable one...

Masterlist

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Flufftober Day 7 | Swinging together

Pairing | Husband!Tony Stark x Pregnant!Wife!Female!Reader

Word count | 1.8K

Summary | You have always dreamt of having a porch swing on your porch, and now that you and Tony are moving into your new house, this is the perfect opportunity. He will do everything he can to build it before your baby boy arrives and make your little family complete.

Warning(s) | None.

Prompt(s) | 7. Porch swing | @flufftober 2023

A/n | This one shot is written for day 7 of Flufftober 2023. I will add the missing days as I go with this challenge, but for now I hope you will enjoy this as much as I did when writing it! 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider is made by @cafekitsune | GIF credit goes to the owner

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

It has been almost a year since you and Tony both retired from being an Avenger, though Tony occasionally goes back to help plan long missions when necessary. It happened more initially, but the day you and Tony found out you were pregnant, he went less and less.

Now you're sitting sideways on the couch on a warm spring day, your feet lying in Tony's lap as he's giving your feet a well-deserved massage, if you say so yourself.

''I think I have an idea what I want to put on the porch of our new house,'' you tell him, and Tony looks at you expectantly while he keeps rubbing your feet.

''And what would that idea be, Gorgeous?'' Tony asks.

''I have always wanted a beautiful porch swing in front of my house to sit and watch life go on in front of us, and when our little boy is here, I would love to sit with him on the swing while I talk about us,'' you say, a dopey grin forming on your face at the thought.

Tony thinks about it for a bit, and after a few minutes, he gives you the biggest smile. ''We can do that for our Munchkin and his amazing Mom, too.''

But before he could get started, the three of you needed to move into the new house first, and all the Avengers had agreed to help the two of you out on moving day a few weeks later.

You can only do a little to help, but they don't mind. Everyone thinks taking care of yourself, and the baby is more important than putting unnecessary strain on either of you.

You've opted to wear a maternity dress that shows off your growing belly since it will be a warm spring day again. Your hair is pulled into a loose ponytail, and you're not wearing make-up, instead opting to accessorize with your glasses.

As soon as the Avengers arrive, they all flock to you, as they don't see you as often now. ''You're glowing!'' ''The baby is growing so fast,'' and ''I can't believe you're this far along already,'' are only a few comments they let loose on you.

''Could you leave my wife alone long enough to get some moving done? I want to be done by the end of the day, not the next week!'' Tony jokes dryly, and they immediately get to work by loading every piece of furniture and all boxes into the trucks they've brought, and before you know it, your entire house is packed into a few trucks.

''Can you come inside with me for just a minute?'' you ask Tony, the others waiting patiently until you're ready. It's already past dinner time, but they'd stay all night if it's what you need.

''O'course,'' he says, and you grab his hand, leading him inside, walking into the house through your front door for one last time.

''I just need a few more minutes with just the three of us together in our old house to say goodbye to all our wonderful memories,'' you say as tears form in the corners of your eyes.

Tony pulls you into a soft hug, careful not to press too hard against your stomach, and you can't help but let the tears flow freely as you think back to all the beautiful memories.

All the anniversaries you've shared, the happy moments, the sad ones, and everything in between, from coming home after an extended mission to coming home after a night of drinking and partying.

This house has seen it all, but now you're leaving it behind to start a life in your new home accommodating your growing family. ''I can't believe we're leaving it all behind,'' you sniffle against Tony's chest, and he's shedding some of his own.

''I love you, Gorgeous.'' ''I love you too, Tony.''

After your tearful goodbyes, you walked out the door before leaving the keys inside, officially never returning to where you called home. Now you're getting ready for the new chapter in your life, in your new house.

The entire group of Avengers enveloped you in a group hug, letting you both know how much they love you.

''Right, time to get moving!'' you say before the group lets go with a lot of laughter.

Before you know it, Tony is behind the wheel of your car (his fancy cars were already at the new house), and you're sleeping in the car's passenger seat.

The other Avengers are paired in equal numbers over the other trucks, so they can switch if needed, but everyone decides to drive in one straight line to the new house. And this entire time, Tony's hand has rarely left your thigh, stroking it gently while your hands are protecting your belly.

The fact that you're moving to an entirely different state doesn't bother anyone, as they're happy to be along for the ride, but at some point, Tony decides to make a stop. Even though you're asleep, he wants to make a restroom stop just for you and others when necessary.

''Gorgeous?'' he nudges you awake gently, and with a snort, you wake up, earning a soft laugh from your husband.

''We're stopping for a toilet break; we're just over halfway there now,'' he says, pointing to a 24-hour diner, all the other Avengers already waiting outside for the two of you.

''Thank you,'' you say, followed by a small yawn as Tony gets up and over to your side of the door, ready to help you get up since that's not as easy as it used to be.

When you're standing, all of you go inside, and you, Nat, and Wanda go to the toilet while the men sit down and order food because they're starving.

The girls were done pretty quickly, but even with a baby pushing on your bladder, it was still a little shy; you don't particularly like using the toilet in places you're not familiar with yet, but after a few minutes, it finally worked.

''Sorry for that, shy bladder,'' you said with a shrug before washing your hands, but they don't mind. When you all return, Bucky stands up so you can slide into the booth next to Tony.

After a small peck on the lips, you sit comfortably, your back resting against the padded leather behind you, your hands on your stomach again, which is where they usually are nowadays.

''I got you some pancakes with extra maple syrup,'' Tony says, and you happily thank him since that's precisely what you've been craving. It's almost as if he's read your mind.

After the food has arrived and it's all gone, everyone continues the journey, but this time, you're taking your place in the backseat of your car, where you can lie down relatively comfortably for the rest of the drive.

Once you're there, Steve and Bucky get the bed out of the trucks and set up in the bedroom, which is done effortlessly between them.

''Gorgeous? Are you ready to get up and sleep in an actual bed? Steve and Bucky put it together for you already, so you can continue sleeping there; you're going to need it,'' Tony asks, and you sleepily nod.

''G'night everyone,'' you say, followed by another yawn and a small wave.

''I kept some of your pajamas, underwear, and clean clothes in a separate bag so we don't have to overhaul everything right now,'' Tony says as he walks you upstairs, the rest of the Avengers loading stuff out of the trucks and putting them in their respective places.

That night, you sleep like a log while everyone works as fast as possible to ensure everything is perfect with the little one on his way, at which they succeeded perfectly.

Over the two and a half months following the move, Tony has been constantly working on a brand new porch swing, and it's finally done. You're watching him as he puts the finishing touches on it.

It's a cooler day today, so you're wearing a comfortable outfit, especially now that the baby can come anytime. And it is almost as if the baby knew the swing would be done because you're actually going into labor later that day.

''T-Tony? We need to go to the hospital,'' you say with a strained voice, and within an instant, he's by your side and ready to go to have your son. The hospital bag is packed and ready to go, so you're out the door quickly.

Once you arrive in the hospital, you're immediately taken to the delivery ward, where you'll spend the next 12 hours in labor; your son decided to take his time to come out. Once he is finally here, you can't help but cry happy tears, mainly because he's a carbon copy of his Dad.

''Shall we call everyone?'' you ask, and you decide to FaceTime Bucky since he usually picks up his phone right away. You're holding your beautiful son in your arms, and Tony sits beside you on the bed.

Your iPad is placed on a table that hovers over your legs. It doesn't take long for him to pick up, and a happy face greets you.

''Hi, doll! How is-'' is all he says before he sees your son, and he can't help but run to the others before saying anything else.

''Guys, guys! Look!'' he says, and one by one, you see everyone passing by and congratulating you on the birth of your beautiful baby boy.

''We're so happy for you; we can't wait to meet the little fella in real life,'' Bucky says as he grabs his phone again, turning it sideways so you can see everyone.

''Can we guys tell you his name? Because we're excited to share it after keeping it a secret for so long,'' you say, and everyone is instantly excited.

''His name,'' Tony starts, ''Is Edward Howard Stark. Named after both Dad and Granddad,'' he says; you can practically see everyone melting when they hear it.

After a few more congratulations and promises to see each other again soon, they hang up, and you're left to bask in the enjoyment that is the little bundle of joy in your arms.

''He's beautiful, just like you,'' you tell Tony, and he captures your lips in a soft, sweet kiss that makes you crave more of the same, just like each of his kisses has done all these years.

The next day, you're all allowed to go home, and the first thing you do when you're back is take your place on the porch swing with Edward and Tony.

''This will be the first of many more times we'll be swinging together, Munchkin,'' you say to Edward, and Tony wholeheartedly agrees. Life was already great, but now it is perfect.

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello amazing fandom :) I have been itching for this ep since the moment D sent me the ep description for it. I'm glad they didn't spoil much of this ep at all. I have a lot of feelings for this one so might be so mini LOL Off we go.

6x05 The Vow

Oh my lord starting out hot with a romantic dinner and a kiss. Also want to talk about they both light up when they see each other. Like they're still in that honeymoon phase somewhat. They’re both so happy to see each other I wanna die. haha Lucy of course has to question the gift. Saying gift giving is not his love language. Damn they cute. Tim saying he is trying to change things up. I’m squeeing and we’re like less than a minute in everyone.

Damnit he’s so romantic with what the gift is. It’s her radio from last week. Oh my word. Lucy is in awe of this man standing before her. Oh my goodness we get a second kiss I’m squeeing so hard. *screams into a pillow* A thank you kiss no less. Loving how he has his hand wrapped around her arm. Pulling her in close for both misses. You know I should've known this ep was going to hurt with getting two kisses within the span of 3 minutes and a cute ass moment to boot.

Like in a video game where they let you stumble upon a bunch of ammo right before a massive fight scene. You know shit is about to go down with them supplying you like that. How I felt with getting cuteness and two kisses right away. I am so excited Tamara has appeared. Wouldn’t be the return of her if she didn’t cock block them. Tim shaking his head too. Classic. Lucy telling her it’s ok. Also LOVING that they have a pre-planned date night. Be still my heart.

Tim gets his cryptic ass phone call and immediately takes off. Lucy looks crushed for a couple reasons. First that he can’t stay. She was clearly looking forward to a night with her man all day. Second the fact he's so short with her. Breaking my heart 'Just wait.' Her Tim radar is going OFFFF Lucy looks SHOOK with his hasty departure. Her heart just walked out the door and it shows.

Oh my word I knew It would be from his military past. The blind spot for the most part we have with his character. I was hoping it would be. The Tim fan girl in me is psyched af. I was thinking who is this Ray and why is Tim so spooked? Then we find out this dude killed their friends and there’s a promise.... Uhhhh the promise is to kill him? Uh Timothy, my love you are a cop….

Oh Lucy is anxious af without him. Ugh she knows something is wrong immediately. Knows this man too damn well. Side tangent about to start. I know some people complained how long it took for them to get together blah blah. BUT I wasn’t. These moments right here are exactly why.

The fact that the very second he took that call she knew deep in her gut something was wrong with him. That is not a connection you get with someone overnight. That is years worth of working together, leaning on each other, learning about one another and seeing each other through a lot of things together. That connection and instinct on someone is built over time.

The beautiful recipe they have now wasn’t ready till we got close to it in s4 and even then they still had some tweaking to do before we reached S5. That being said I love her missing him. My guess is other than 6x01 they’ve scarcely spent a night apart. Also her Tim radar is going bonkers right now. She looks so sick to her stomach when she hangs up.

Tim seeing Lucy’s call going off and not being able to answer. It's clearly killing him. We see him take a beat and a deep breath. Clearly doesn’t want to be here rather be there with her. Last thing he wanted was his date night interrupted. Also she is his ‘go to’ for pretty much everything. You know its actively tearing him up to not answer her.

Oh my he was called the 'Reaper'? Holy hell why is that so attractive? Everything with Tim usually is. But hot damn that being his nickname in the service? I am fanning myself. Idk if that's wrong but I am haha But it does give us insight to who he was in the service tbh. You don't get called 'The Reaper.' without good reason.... Why Greer thinks Tim is going soft on him.

I do love Tim reinforcing the law also very attractive oh my goodness. You tell ‘em love. I don’t love this guy guilting Tim into keeping this pact. He’s SOOOOO loyal he’s gonna keep to it. Even at his own detriment. The man shoulders SO MUCH he already doesn't need to. Ugh Tim saying they’ve built lives. Yes you have. With Lucy. The love of your life you walked away from tonight to be here right now. After this chat I knew this ep was going to hurt so good. I could feel it.

The jokes in the car are cute was hoping he’d ask Tim about Lucy. Sadly we didn't' get this. This whole situation makes me nervous af. God Tim looks extra fine in this episode street clothes on him are a wonder. A delicious one.

My god this list of crimes this guy has done sweet lord. Stole money. Called in an air strike on his own men when they came for him holy shit …Wasn't enough to bury in a shoe box.....fuck they both lied to get Ray’s wife and kid death benefits and if they bring him in it’s a problem.

Crap this is so bad Tim... Saying they’ll get fired from their current jobs and be dishonorably discharged from the service. I’m nervous…this isn’t a good situation. Also not surprised in the least he broke the rules to take care of someone. That empathy of his ran deep before it got buried by his Isabel trauma later on.

First off let me say Eric KILLED ME in this scene. I was tearing up at how tore up he is about all of this. Tim wanting to take the fall.... Damnit Timothy you have a life too. Don't fall on your sword my god imma cry. Tim’s integrity is one of his sexiest traits IMO. I too have a deep sense of integrity drives everyone I work with insane. He’s in tears saying he would arrest him. Oh my word. I'm crying again. Eric killing me softly holy hell. I'm so mad at Greer for putting that on him. I had a bad feeling about Greer the minute he guilted Tim into this side OP.

How dare you put that on my Tim. He already has so much on his soul. A chunk of it not even his fault. The man is a deeper empath than he gets credit for. He absorbs the feelings and pain of those around him and shoulders things he doesn't need to. I'm learning in therapy I do the same thing. My therapist told me one thing to be empathetic. It's another to feel responsible for other's feelings or the outcome of actions I've taken and how it affects others. I feel like Tim is the same way. He's such an empath he's taken that responsibility to the extreme and is carrying things he doesn't need to be.

I wanna hug him oh my god. His sigh when Greer left. My heart. I'm sure part of the reason he's hiding this from Lucy is the shame he feels. This man (Ray) stole half a million from the government then bombed his own people on his watch. Tim breaks the rules to make sure his widow and child are taken care of and its bites him in this ass. There is a reason he was/is so damn rigid as a cop. 'Rules matter boot.' His PTSD in a line. Anytime he has let his guard down and skirted the rules people have been injured (Mitch) or in this case killed. Ugh. My poor boy. The hitch in his breath like he couldn't breath that entire convo. I'm hurting so much for him in this episode.

Poor Lucy kept it together at work but lost it when he finally gets home. That look of hope when he walks through the door then instant anger. ‘Telling me you’re alive is not optional.’ Ugh she’s not wrong....I can only imagine what her anxiety was doing to her until he walked through that door. It's shown in her lines above. Her imagining him bleeding out somewhere.

She is not wrong it wasn't ok he didn't even tell her he was alive. I get why he didn't but he should've. Lucy straight confronting him. Asking him what the actual hell is going on with him? No one knows you better than her. You can't hide what you're going through. Tim of course wants to protect her from being fired and refuses to tell her what he's torn up about. Only alluding to it's serious enough if she knows she will be jeopardizing her standing at work.

Her saying 'Then what are you doing here?' God damn Lucy... telling it like it is. Holy hell. Poor Tim is so taken aback by her response. He breaks my heart when he says 'I came to see you.' Lucy has become his safe place. His comfort zone. So by default he came here to seek that comfort. She is home now and he came home. But she can’t comfort you when she doesn’t know what to comfort you for. This scene hurts to watch. Because he is DYING for her compassion, her warmth and just her. He is denied access because she is setting a boundary with this as she should. Tim needs to share the load with her. To tell her the truth. She is willing to risk her standing for him.

My god if she actually knew she would be kicking herself for how much he needs her right now. But she doesn't know so she sends him away. The tears in both their eyes His 'Understood'. Man is about to cry in front of her. I’m dying. Someone revive me. I’m dead and not in a good way. I’m crying. Eric and Melissa out here crushing it though. Gah Tim would rather blow them up and protect her than not ugh Timmmmmmm I get both sides of this. Tim thinks since this is pre-Lucy and could get her in trouble he needs to bear this alone. When she is begging him to let her share the load of this. Sending him away is her setting a boundary. That he needs to think not just of her but of them. To tackle things together. To stop protecting her.

They’re both hurting in this scene. But the issue at hand still is them only thinking in terms of 'Me' not us. Even though when one of them does this it’s to protect the other. That’s fine and dandy but when it come to them as a whole it’s a problem. Shit hits the fan they eject away thinking that’s the best course of action. It’s been an issue for some time this lack of communication. This is just bringing it to a head. They don’t think how can we tackle this together? They think how can I protect my person from this? Or protect their feelings by lying.

Also think that radio being in this scene was there for a reason. That radio is the representation of Lucy not telling Tim exactly how not ok she was in 6x04. She was so willing to pretend she was ok. And instead of leaning on him. Voicing that so they could tackle it together. She ran into the line of fire recklessly instead to prove herself worthy again. Almost killing herself in the process. Because she was in her head instead of communicating to Tim. These two gonna be death of me...

Wanna hug Lucy. She is desperate for any kind of help. So she reaches out to Nolan. John per usual is completely useless for her in a crisis. Man is as useful as using a fork to eat soup. These are the moments I miss Jackson for Lucy so much. He would’ve had a much better an answer. Then just ‘you're shit out of luck.’ That’s not enough damnit.

Nolan basically saying. "What are you gonna do?' with a shrug. If I could clock you John I would. I don't normally watch the preview for the next ep till I'm done assembling my thoughts. But with this one I couldn't wait. This is why Lucy goes to Angela next week about Tim instead. She needed a real grown up to help her with Tim.

We rejoin Lucy looking at her phone. Trying so damn hard not to reach out. To be the trusting girlfriend for her man. I know we're in a bad spot but Lucy calling Tim 'her man' gah yes please more of that. I am grateful for Tamara. She needs her right now since Nolan is useless af. Lucy is trying so very hard not to spiral out atm. She confronted him and it didn't go well. Lucy is feeling at a loss right now and rightfully so. I adore Tamara for making her laugh in this moment so very much.

The lesson's Tamara has learned is too damn cute. I loved it so much. Lucy needed this moment of levity and her pseudo daughter crushed it. We pan back to Tim also starting at his phone wanting to call. Ugh Tim what are you gonna do babe? You can’t kill him. Can’t turn him in. I feel sick lol Also once again amazing song to close it out. I watch the ep with my gaming headphones on. One because I love hearing Eric’s voice straight in my ears not gonna lie. Don’t judge me ha Also catch onto music more so with them on.

But back to the matter at hand…Now do I think they’re gonna break up cause he’s gonna protect her? I don’t. Their angst since they got together has always been productive. Is it gonna hurt like a son of a bitch before we get there? Yes.

My hope is this drives them to depend on one another more and not just straight protect each other at the detriment of the one they're ironically trying to protect. Better communication which has been an issue for some time. To learn to face these challenges not only head on but hand in hand while they do so. These are the types of things they need to learn before their relationship gets any more serious than it is tbh. So while this hurts like a lot it'll be good for them in the long run.

This season has EXCEEDED my expectations ten fold. If you aren't happy with this season idk what will make you happy tbh. I said the same thing about S5 as well. I cannot wait for next week. Which I am hoping is full of worried/feral Lucy and their reunion and growth from it. Phew feel free to comment any theories or thoughts on my first take thoughts I love them so. Also thank you everyone supporting these mini reviews you're amazing and makes the effort always worth it.

Side notes -non Chenford

Ok Aaron seeing his therapist at the bar excited for him I knew low key there would be something there.

Bailey and John seem so cold I know they’re on duty but even grey held his wife’s hand at the hospital…

Of course Smitty takes his break at a therapist office

Lucy’s joke about Celina omg LOL I'm impressed with such a solid joke when she was low key worried the love of her life was dying in a ditch somewhere...

Also clearly his therapist is a lying liar who lies but how can she not be? She's his therapist and WORK one at that. Be interesting to see how this unfolds.

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

My Little Shadow: Part twelve (Azriel x Reader)

Warnings: Kidnapping.

Part eleven Part thirteen

Tag list: @mis-lil-red @bubybubsters @luvmoo @rorel1a @minakay

We sat there for another half an hour, before my patience ran out.  “He apologized.”  I said, shifting uncomfortably.

After getting her answers, Y/N demands to be brought home, and of course something else is wrong.

“What for?”  Azriel asked, having adjusted so he’s hanging a little less awkwardly in the net.

I cross my arms.  “Why don’t you tell me what other me forgave you for first?”  I say, turning back towards him.  It wasn’t quite winter yet, but it was still cold, and I found myself shivering.

I was surprised as Azriel and my shadows wrapped around me, warming me up.  Azriel bit his lip as he saw it.

“She- it forgave me for not- for what I did with Elain.”  He said, almost too quiet for me to hear.

I scoff.  “It’s more forgiving than I am.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “I’m sorry.”

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, and his eyes are round and sad, and it’s an effort not to feel bad for him.

I wasn’t done roasting him over the fire yet.

“You have nothing to apologize for.  I mean, it’s not like you told Mor you liked me, only for her to push me to tell you.”  I glare at him.  “Was that all some big joke for you?  Am I your entertainment for the month?”

He flinched as if I struck him.  “Gods no Y/n, I didn’t-”  He swallowed nervously.  It was strange to see him like this, nervous and unsure of himself.  “I didn’t think she would tell you.  Or if she did, that you would want me like that.”

I pause.  “Then why?  Why were you fucking Elain in the kitchen when I came in then?  If you cared about me like-”  My voice cracked and I looked away.

“Because she was there, and she said it was nothing more than just- I knew that you wouldn’t want me, and it was a stupid decision.”

“I do like you, why do you think I was so angry?”  I hiss, and his eyes meet mine, and he finally sees the sorrow and desperation.

“I lived in a place where everyone was horrible and tried to stab you in the back every five seconds.  I’ve loved you for a few weeks now, and I knew, I just knew if I told you it wouldn’t end well.”  I laugh, the sound empty and cold.  “And what do you know, I was right.”

“No.  No Y/N-  I love you.”  He says it, and I freeze.

“You’re just saying that so I let you down.”  I mutter, looking away so he doesn’t see the hope blooming in my eyes.

Goddamn it, I should hate him.

But I didn’t.

I still wasn’t ready to forgive him though.

“Too fucking late Az.  Too late.”  I say, getting up and going over to the net.  I took the dagger I had stabbed the Graile with, and cut the ropes.  I realized that they had been infused with Faebane.

He fell to the ground with a heavy thud, and I fought back the tears that were threatening to spill yet again.  “Take me home Azriel.  I want to go home.”

He doesn’t speak, but he takes my hand, and I try not to flinch away as he pulls me close and his shadows wrap around us.  Right before we’re there, I feel a dark shimmering string go taut in my chest, and I gasp.  Azriel has the same wide eyed look on his face, but before we can discuss it, we’re in my home.

I want to say something, anything, because I knew what this was, this was the bond. Azriel and I were mates.

I opened my mouth to speak, but paused.  Something was wrong.

Azriel apparently doesn’t notice the change in the house, stumbling away and turning to leave in a rush.

“Azriel don-”  I start, but I’m too late.  He opens the front door and I am suddenly blinded.  I blink away the brightness, and when I look back, he is gone.  There are only strange sigils on the ground around the doorway.

“Y/N!”  My sister screams from upstairs, and I waste no time running up the stairwell and searching for Stella.

I throw the doors open until I find the room she's in, tied to a chair at the end of her bed, tears streaking down her eyes.

I rush over to her, undoing her bonds and pulling her into my arms.  She sobs into my chest as I examine her.  No visible injuries.

“Are you okay?”  I ask, and she shakes her head.  “Dad was here.”  She whispers, and I freeze up.

Oh god.

They had been trying to get me, and now they had Azriel.

As I held Stella in my arms, I knew that Azriel could take care of himself.

At least, I hoped so.

“How did this happen?”  Rhysand asked me frantically.

As soon as I established that they hadn’t done anything to stella besides tie her up, I had rushed to the river house, hoping to find help for Azriel.

“I don’t know!  There was some sort of spell on the front door.  I think it was meant for me, not Azriel.”  I say, rushing off to get weapons.

This time, they were following my lead.

I knew what my father was, and I knew most of his hiding places.  If anyone could find Azriel in the depths of Hewn city, it was me.

I wasn’t going to leave my mate in his hands, I don’t care how angry I was with Azriel.  I’m not that cruel.

He was my mate.

The fact slammed into me once again, and I had to struggle for breath.

My father had kidnapped my mate, and now Azriel could be hurt, or worse.  I didn’t feel anything from the bond, like I’ve been told you should be able to, which only made my panic worse.

“Where would they have taken him?”  Feyre asks, and I hurry to shove yet more weapons onto my person.

Even Nesta’s group was coming.  This was more than just disobeying a highlord, they had kidnapped his friend.

Rhysand was going to bring everything he had.

“Hewn City, other than that, we’re just going to have to check all the hiding places.”  I say, storming back into the main room where Cassian and Rhysand were dressed in pitch black armor, not unlike the stuff the usually wore at Hewn city.  Morrirgan and Amren in another corner, and then Nesta’s circle of friends.

They all turn to me as I enter the room, and I realize they’re waiting for me to tell them what to do.

“We need to go to Hewn City, and we need to keep this as quiet as possible.”  I say, surprised at how steely and commanding my voice comes out.  “If they hear anything about this, they will interfere either in hopes of rewards, or to see us fail.”

I nod to Rhysand.  “Let’s go save our friend.”

[jinkoh]

If I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?

my centerfold

eric x fem!reader

“Is there ever going to be a right time for us?” Eric sounded bitter. He didn’t mean to, but he just didn't know how to hide his feelings about all of this. You tensed up, your fingers almost desperately intertwining themselves with his. “There has to be.”

tags: slow burn, childhood friends to ? to lovers, hurt/comfort, time skips, y/n is 2 yrs older, kinda rlly bad communication but they figure it out, one (1) suggestive scene

warnings: alcohol consumption, implied mental health issues, eric is lowkey not having a good time in this (but things turn out okay!! it will be fine!!)

i tried to stay away from physical descriptions but it does say y/n has smaller hands than eric

wordcount: ~6,7k

a/n: i think i started writing this when hurt me less came out bc it got me in the mood for something angsty and then it somehow turned into a songfic for 'coney island' instead. and ofc it's still angsty bc there is nothing i love more than writing pain :)) anyway i hope you enjoy~

Masterlist

17

Being seventeen sucked. Because seventeen had Eric sitting in his tree house, by himself, picking apart the old bleached out rug. Seventeen had him eating lunch with his friends, except you'd decided not to be a part of them anymore, sitting with Hyunjae and Juyeon instead. Which, to be fair, made sense because they were in the same grade and Eric wasn’t but that hadn’t stopped you before so why did it now?

Seventeen had him going to the arcade, trying over and over to win that silly plastic ring from the claw machine, as if it could fix anything, as if he still had anyone to give it to. Seventeen had him watching you graduate and it was stupid how pretty you looked in that black robe, as you left him and all your shared memories behind. He wanted to take a picture with you, he'd always naturally assumed you would, but you hadn't spoken in weeks and Eric was too much of a coward to start now. So he watched you from afar, radiant smile on your face as you stood with your family that he knew so well it felt like it was his own. And yet he didn't belong there anymore. And yet, you didn’t want him there anymore.

He rode his bike home after the ceremony, mindlessly throwing it onto the lawn before he climbed up the wooden steps to his tree house. He'd spent so much time here with you that sometimes he forgot it was his and not yours. He remembered you sitting on the patchwork of rugs and carpet squares with him, laughing bright as the sun at some silly joke of  his. You're funny, you'd said, wiping away tears from the corners of your eyes, and he'd never liked himself more than in that moment, with you giggling about his antics. Eric wondered if maybe you'd changed your mind and the parts of him you'd thought of as funny before had become annoying and childish. He wasn't that much younger but maybe the age difference had become all you could see, Eric just a kid that wouldn't be able to relate to the things ahead of you. He thought about the way you'd looked at him the last time you'd been up here together. There'd been something in your eyes that Eric had interpreted as love, but then your expression had shifted and you'd left and you hadn’t come back since.

Sitting all alone in the tree house, pointlessly overthinking all your possible reasons, he sort of regretted ever taking you up the brittle ladder. This tree house was supposed to be his safe space, but it felt looming and empty now. Where was he supposed to find comfort, if every possible source of comfort that he knew somehow tied back to you? Maybe he'd shared too much with you, given too much of himself, because now that you were leaving, what was there that you wouldn't take with you? What would be left behind with him, of him, once you were gone? He didn’t want to find out but it wasn’t looking like he had much of a choice.

19

Nineteen had Eric on top of the world. He’d surprised everyone by staying in town for college while most of his friends—including his best friend Sunwoo—didn’t, but it’d felt like the right thing to do. Of course, his plans used to be different, but the reason behind those plans, being together with you, had disappeared. Maybe it looked sad or pathetic from the outside, staying behind while everyone was leaving, but it didn’t feel that way to Eric. Because for once this had been a decision he’d made just for himself. And it'd proved to be the right one. Eric loved college, he loved his classes and he wasn’t lonely either. He'd never struggled to make new friends, so he’d found his people right on the first day, clicking with them so easily as if he’d known them forever. He’d met his girlfriend that way too and they’d been going strong for three months now. She was bold and bubbly and the type of person who made life feel good and easy. He liked her. 

He liked her enough not to think about you anymore, except for the brief moments when he did. But even then it didn’t come with the same burst of emotion as it used to. He’d been so heartbroken back then, and then after the heartbreak there'd been this burning anger about the way you’d never told him why you cut him off. But now all that was left was a sense of bittersweet nostalgia.

The nostalgia overcame him again, when he entered the arcade with his friends. None of them came from this town, so they didn't have any memories about this place. It was just an arcade to them, so it would have been weird to decline when they'd asked Eric if he was up for going. And why would he decline either way? Sure, he hadn’t gone to the arcade in a long time, eventually leaving it behind like so many places he'd associated with you. But he was okay now. 

Or maybe he wasn’t, because once inside he naturally found himself in front of the claw machine again. After all this time the silly little plastic ring was still the same, taunting him from the display of prices to be won. He threw in a coin and then another and another.

"What are you trying to win so desperately?" His girlfriend asked with a giggle, as she came up to him from behind. 

"Uh, nothing really."

"Nothing?" She tilted her head.

"It's a little stupid," he admitted, "but I've always wanted to get that ring. I never managed, so I can't help but try when I see it."

"That's cute though. I’m rooting for you," she said, giving him a little peck on the cheek. Eric felt guilty, as if he was keeping a secret from her.

"Will you give it to me, if you do win it?" 

He hesitated for a moment too long before replying. "Of course. But I doubt I will."

She didn’t take much notice of his faltering and just gave him another peck before she disappeared elsewhere to play a racing game.

Eric got a bunch of key charms that day. Until, suddenly, when he popped open another plastic ball, there wasn’t a key charm inside. He stared at the ring with something akin to confusion. He'd tried so often back then and never succeeded, so a part of him had started to believe it wasn’t actually possible. But here it was, right there in his palm, two years late and looking cheaper up close. In the end it was just a piece of plastic, he supposed. He slipped it into his pocket. When his girlfriend asked later, he told her about the key charms and let her choose one of them before dividing the rest among his friends. The ring stayed hidden in his pocket, a secret heavier than the colorful plastic it was made of. 

He turned the ring between his fingers later that night, lying awake with useless thoughts. That day in the arcade, when he’d failed to get the ring for you was when it’d all gone down the drain. You’d hung out at the arcade a lot back then, you and Eric and Sunwoo and Haknyeon and Hyunjae and whoever else had been in the mood. There hadn’t been anything special about that day; you’d joked around like always, teasing him about not winning anything. “Just watch me,” he’d shot back, trying to defend his pride. “Tell me what you want and I’ll win it for you.” “The ring. From the claw machine," you'd replied and to this day Eric didn’t understand why you’d chosen that of all things. He’d agreed though, telling you it was easy; only to get nothing but a bunch of key charms and a necklace. He’d wasted a ton of coins trying to get it for you, even after that day, even after you were no longer speaking. But now that he finally had it, it felt underwhelming. It was tiny, probably meant for children with the way it didn’t even fit his pinky. Then again, your hands were smaller than his. Not that he’d ever gotten to hold them, but he remembered from the way you’d grabbed the front of his T-shirt the very same day. It was stupid that he could still recall such a silly detail. He should be remembering other things instead, like how it’d felt when your lips crashed into his, but the touch had been so brief and so surprising, he had barely registered it had happened at all when you were already pushing him away again. It’d been his first kiss, so he thought he should be remembering it better, but what came to mind was always the moment right before, when you’d looked at him with fondness, and then the moment right after when there’d been terror in your eyes, a look of reproach. As if he’d been the one to cross that line, when really, it was you. You had grabbed his shirt and you had kissed him first. So why was he treated like he'd been the one who’d made the mistake? 

And why was it a mistake anyway? 

17

“This is pretty cute too,” you said when you were sitting in his tree house together, holding up the necklace that was sparkling in the light of the evening sun that came in through the window. “Of course it’s not a ring, but yanno, can’t have it all.”

Everyone had gone home, but you’d naturally gone back with Eric. He hadn’t questioned it because you always did that, treating his home like your own. And it wasn’t like he wanted you to leave.

“If you don’t like it, give it back,” he complained with a pout, trying to snatch the necklace from you, but you quickly held it out of reach.

“Nope, never. You already gave it to me, so it’s mine now.” You turned your back to him, pushing your hair to the side and holding the necklace around your neck for him to close. “Help me put it on?”

There shouldn’t have been anything weird or special about this, but Eric’s hands trembled and it took him three attempts to finally get it right.

“Maybe a necklace is better,” you’d said as you turned back around to him, brushing over the little pendant, cheap metal against the skin between your collarbones. “I’m too young to get married and I’m sure there are other people you’d prefer giving rings to anyway.”

He should have made a silly comment now, agreeing that just the thought of marrying you was grossing him out. But it didn’t. It actually sounded pretty good to him. 

“No,” he mumbled without making eye contact. “I wouldn’t have minded giving it to you.”

You didn’t reply, and it made him realize that he’d probably fucked up. He shouldn’t have said that. He looked up, searching his brain for a stupid joke to lighten up the mood, but when he met your gaze you looked flustered.

“Really?” your voice was quiet.

“Yeah.”

“Win it for me next time then.”

Eric felt his skin tingle at your words, helplessly trying to figure out if you were fucking with him right now or if all of this meant what he thought it did. “Okay,” he pressed out, because what else was he going to say if the girl he liked asked him for a ring?

For a moment you just looked at him, but then you grabbed his shirt, your fingers wrapping around the fabric to pull him in, and Eric in his surprise almost toppled forward. Except he didn’t because then there were your lips on his that stopped him from falling.

The fall only came after, when you dashed out and completely stopped talking to him.

21

Twenty-one wasn't what Eric thought it would be. That feeling of being undefeatable that had empowered him at nineteen seemed to be completely used up now. Instead  the teenage angst had come back with full force, making him feel more miserable and anxious than ever. Of course he wasn’t actually a teenager anymore, but calling it teenage angst was less frightening than calling it depression and it wasn't like he was seeing anyone about it anyway. As long as he didn’t have a diagnosis he didn’t have an actual problem. It was just a little losing streak, but he'd be back on his game in a bit. He just had a lot to deal with right now, like how college was harder than it'd felt at the beginning. Or how his girlfriend had broken up with him a few months ago and he hadn’t dated since. It was fine though, it was better that way. She deserved better. After all, even now he wasn’t sure if he missed her or if he just missed being with someone. But simply knowing it'd been the right choice didn't take away that looming feeling of loneliness in his bones. 

Of course he had friends that cared about him, but they were her friends too and even though they'd separated amicably, he felt awkward and detached. He didn’t know how to open up to them anymore, or maybe he'd never really opened up to them from the start. More often than not he wished that he'd gone to the same college as Sunwoo after all. Surely, he'd be feeling better then. Because despite his teasing and feigned annoyance, Sunwoo was his best friend and the person he relied on the most. Except that felt so much harder to do with distance between them and Eric couldn’t shake off the fear of becoming a burden if he told Sunwoo just how miserable he was feeling. So, he was somehow dealing with it by himself, mostly relying on the hope that it would eventually pass and that maybe he would wake up some day and feel okay again.

Today wasn’t the day though, he realized as he stood at the grocery store without his shopping list and only fragmentary memories of what he’d been meaning to buy. He was ruffling his hair in frustration in the dairy section, trying to remember if milk was needed or not, when he suddenly got pulled out of his thoughts.

“Eric, right?”

When he turned around he found Hyunjae standing in front of him, four years older than the last time he’d seen him and yet unmistakably the same. 

“It’s Hyunjae,” he unnecessarily explained with a bright smile when Eric didn’t respond immediately.

“Yeah, of course, I remember.” Eric tried to return his smile, but he felt too conscious of himself, too uncomfortable in his own skin and the hoodie that he hadn’t washed in too long.

“Are you also back for spring break?”

There was no reason to feel embarrassed about it, but somehow Eric felt small when he admitted that he had never left town. He'd never felt ashamed of that a year or two ago. 

“Really?” Hyunjae looked surprised, but there was no judgment there at all. “I always thought you’d go to the same school as y/n. The two of you were attached at the hip back then.” He chuckled. “But I guess you had your own plans. Good for you though! Hope life’s been treating you well?”

“Oh, totally,” Eric lied with a smile. “It’s going great. What about you?”

“Yeah, same, but I’m glad it’s spring break now. I’m actually buying some stuff for the weekend,” he nodded towards his cart, loaded with beer and liquor and meat. “Throwing a party since a lot of the guys from school are back right now—,” he interrupted himself for a second. “Actually, you should come. If you’re free on Friday."

“Sure,” Eric nodded, “I’ll stop by if I find the time.” There was no reason to think he wouldn’t, there were no other plans to speak of, but he wanted to keep himself the option of showing up.

“Nice,” Hyunjae grinned. He seemed genuinely pleased about the prospect of Eric coming, but maybe that had more to do with Hyunjae being a nice, sociable guy, rather than how he felt about Eric specifically. Still, it was nice to be invited somewhere. 

“I’ll see you on Friday then,” he added, lightly patting Eric on the back before getting back to his cart.

“Yeah,” Eric gave him a small wave. “See you then.”

Eric was convinced he wouldn’t go to the party. He still thought so until Friday evening, when he was chilling on the couch fumbling with a rubix cube and came to the depressing realization that he hadn’t done anything all week and wasn’t going to do anything on the weekend either.  The thought of that made him feel miserable and like a stranger to himself. He wasn’t the type of person to stay at home by himself all week, letting spring break pass by without any memories to speak of. He had to think of Hyunjae’s invitation then and he decided to go. After all, if he wanted things to be different, he’d have to do something about it. And he liked going to parties, didn’t he? Maybe he hadn’t been to one in a while but he assumed it was like riding a bicycle, surely he’d be back in his element once he arrived. So, he slipped on some fresh clothes, did his hair, and made his way over to Hyunjae’s, fashionably late of course.

Rather than ringing the bell, he headed straight for the garden, where he heard the sound of music and laughter. The party was in full swing already, the atmosphere light and happy, making it easy to blend in and make small talk here and there. Eric didn’t remember everyone’s names, but he did recognize a bunch of faces and it seemed like almost everyone remembered him to some extent. It was a nice feeling to know he’d left enough of an impression on all these people from school for them to still have positive memories about him. Of course, none of the conversations he had were all that deep and meaningful, but after distancing himself from people for weeks now and constantly worrying about being a burden to those around him, it was a relief to see that people did seem to like having him around. 

He was starting to loosen up, feeling lighter and happier than he’d been in weeks. Surely the alcohol was doing its part too, but Eric was convinced it was more than that. The evening felt like a turning point, like the kick of motivation he’d needed to work on getting better again. Maybe he was being a little delusional.

Just when he was about to open another bottle of beer, a voice made him stop in his tracks.

“Eric?”

You hadn’t even been all that loud, but he felt like the noise of the party—the music, the chatter, the laughter—all of it had suddenly diminished to a faint background noise at the call of your voice. 

He hadn’t heard it in years, but there was no doubt in his mind it was yours. The time apart could never erase all the time spent together, your voice ingrained in his memory like a melody from his youth. 

Eric didn’t turn around immediately. Instead he resumed opening the bottle first, using the brief moment to try and collect himself. It wasn’t really working. He hadn’t expected to meet you here. In hindsight that’d been pretty stupid, but hindsight wasn’t really helping him now.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat before finally turning around to face you. “Y/n.” He didn’t know what face he was making. Was he smiling? He wanted to smile.

“It’s been a while.” You were smiling. It was a little timid, as if you weren’t sure if Eric would want you to talk to him, but it was a smile nevertheless. He was glad somehow, that there didn’t seem to be any hard feelings on your side. A part of him had always feared that you’d come to hate him.

“Yeah.”

“Do you maybe—,” you were fumbling with the pendant of your necklace. It looked expensive, or at least more expensive than the one he’d gotten you from the arcade. He pointlessly wondered if you still had it. “Do you wanna go for a walk? Or something?”

“Sure.” It was an automatic response that came out before he had the chance to consider if he actually wanted to. But when you both set foot onto the pavement and slowly distanced yourselves from Hyunjaes house, Eric thought that he did want to.

It was quiet for a bit so Eric said “Hyunjae invited me,” both to fill the silence and because he thought you could be confused about his attendance at the party.

“Yeah, he told me.”

Somehow Eric felt weird about that. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that the two of them had talked about him, or the fact that they’d talked at all. “Are you still close?” It was a stupid question. Eric could already guess the answer and he didn’t actually want to hear it. A very uncalled for jealousy crept up in his stomach.

“Yes. I mean, not to that extent—we’re not living in the same city—but we’ve kept in touch.”

“That’s nice,” Eric replied and he wanted to mean it but all he could think was ‘why didn’t you keep in touch with me?’

You turned a corner, entering a playground that was deserted at this hour and Eric followed along, taking the other one when you sat down on one of the swings. He watched as you slowly swayed back and forth, your gaze fixed onto your feet that never left the sand.

“I know it’s late,” you eventually started without looking up, “but I always wanted to apologize.”

It felt weird to hear you apologize. Maybe because in his head Eric has assumed you had moved on from everything quickly, starting your new life in a new place and forgetting all about the boy you’d left behind. It’d made sense to him, because while he’d never gotten the luxury of actual closure, always stuck wondering what he’d done wrong for things to go the way they did, you had known. There were no open ends to take care of, not for you. Or so he’d made himself believe, but here you were, apologizing because apparently you too hadn’t just forgotten everything.

“I was a dick back then,” you added and Eric found himself agreeing. “Yeah.” He thought he saw you flinch at his honesty. 

“I’m sorry. I really am. I know it’s not an excuse but I just—I was really scared back then.”

“Scared of what?”

“Everything. Graduation. Change. It all felt so scary to me. And I know it’s scary to everyone, I get that, but back then I felt like I was the only one struggling. Everyone around me seemed all happy and excited and I just felt so scared.”

“I could have been there for you.”  

“I know. I knew. But maybe you were one of the reasons I was so scared and I didn’t know how to tell you that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eric turned to you with a frown, but you didn’t look up.

“I was just so scared of losing you.”

“We would have been fine even with the distance. You wouldn’t have lost me.”

“Maybe not.”

“Definitely not,” he insisted.

You stopped swinging, your heels digging into the sand. “It wasn’t just the distance—I mean, of course I was scared of being apart. But at the time even being together felt like I was going to lose you. I just felt different, and I knew I was ruining our friendship but I didn’t know how not to. Or, I don’t know—maybe I thought boycotting things myself would be easier to stomach. It was a mistake, I know that now, but I was stupid back then.” 

Eric knew how hard it was for you to tell him all this, he heard it in the way your voice trembled and he saw it in the way your hands clung onto the chains of the swing like your life depended on them. But hearing it wasn’t easy either. You were confirming what he’d somehow already known: kissing him was a mistake to you. It’d been something to boycott your friendship without any deeper meaning, and that stung because it had meant so much to him. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” you continued when Eric didn’t say anything, “but I at least wanted to say sorry. I was an idiot.”

A moment went by in silence, and then another. There was nothing aside from the wind rustling in the trees and the slight squeaking of the swings’ hinges. Eric felt tears welling up in his eyes and that sucked because he’d so badly wanted to be okay when he saw you again; he’d wanted to be over it, but now that you were here it all came back to him. He looked up to the dark sky, trying to blink away the tears. It was pathetic that he was crying like this, still hung up on his first love after four years.

“Did you ever actually—,” He started but then interrupted himself. —like me?, was what he wanted to ask but he couldn’t get the words out. It seemed you understood him anyway.

“I did. I liked you, Eric. I know I didn’t act like it, but I really liked you.”

He turned to meet your gaze and he was surprised to see tears in your eyes too. You seemed earnest. “But did you like me like that?” His voice was hoarse and quiet and barely came out at all, but he needed to ask, he needed to finally know. 

You looked confused, as if you’d already given all the answers Eric was looking for and he was just too stupid to see. And maybe he was, maybe you’d already said it all, but he had to make sure. 

“That’s what scared me so much, Eric,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to destroy our friendship with my silly feelings, but at the same time I wanted—”

“They weren’t silly. If your feelings were silly then mine were silly too.”

Your breathing hitched. “What do you mean?”

“I liked you too,” he admitted because there wasn’t a reason not to, “I always, always liked you.”

With a long sigh you pushed yourself up from the swing, taking a few steps ahead, maybe just to do something. “I really fucked things up, huh?” You turned to look at him, as if you wanted to ask more, but it took you another two turns and a few more uneasy steps to gather the courage. “What about now? Do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you,” Eric got up too, reaching out for your hand to stop your pacing. Your fingers felt cold, maybe from the iron chains of the swings, and he wished he could put them in his pocket to warm them up. “I never once hated you.”

When you looked up now, eyes almost a little teary, he realized how close you were. If he just leaned in a little he could have kissed you. He didn’t get to though, because you leaned in first, your lips brushing his in a careful, feather light touch before you pulled away again, a question in your eyes. His gaze followed your lips, chasing the kiss, and that was enough for you to lean in again. This time I need to remember, he thought to himself as he reached up to cup your jaw and pull you in. This time I have to remember every little thing about it. 

Having you back in his room after all this time felt strange and having you in his bed felt even stranger. Eric remembered the days spent sitting on his race car sheets that he would have been too embarrassed to show anyone else, but it was fine if it was you, because you wouldn’t tell anyone. He remembered the laughing and the play fighting and all the dreams and plans you’d talked about while staring at his ceiling with the little sky of glow-in-the-dark stars looking back at you. The stars weren’t there anymore, nor were the race cars. But most importantly, rather than sitting next to him, you were straddling his hips, your eyes dark and beautiful in the halflight of the room. You leaned down to kiss him and your hair felt ticklish where it brushed his skin. It was a slow and sweet kiss, your fingers gently carding through his locks. But you steadily became more greedy, slipping your tongue into his mouth as you drew him in. He didn’t mind at all, feeling that same sense of hunger burning under his skin. When you ground your hips into him, he let out a groan, muffled only by your lips on his own. Almost automatically he grabbed onto your waist, pulling your body even closer to his own because it never felt close enough. He broke away from your lips, his mouth moving to your neck instead, leaving a trail of bites and kisses in its wake. You tilted your head to give him more access as you continuously rolled your hips into his, chasing that sweet sweet friction. His hands slipped beneath your shirt and he loved the feeling of your warm skin right beneath his fingertips as he explored your body. When his hands traveled down to the waistband of your jeans, tugging at the fabric in a question, he felt you jolt in his lap, stopping your movements as if you’d woken up from a trance.

“Wait,” you whispered with a breathy voice, your hand coming to rest on his.

“You don’t want to?” He asked, searching your eyes for answers. Of course he wanted to, but it wasn’t like he’d be upset if you didn’t. Anything was fine with him, really, as long as you didn’t disappear from his side again.

“It’s not that.” You took a deep breath and Eric immediately felt a sense of dread bubble up in his stomach. 

“But?”

“Eric, I’m flying back in three days.”

His grip on you instinctively tightened, as if that could somehow make you stay. Of course he’d somehow known that you would have to go back to your life that very clearly wasn’t taking place in this town, or room, or bed. But he’d chosen to ignore that knowledge, pushing it to the far back of his mind because he didn’t want to think about it. What use was there thinking about it anyway? He couldn’t change it.

“Yeah,” he whispered, letting his head drop onto your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.. “But can’t we have this? At least for now?”

“If we indulge ourselves now, won’t it hurt more to part ways?”

“I don’t know. I think it hurt plenty last time.” He didn’t want to sound bitter or like he was holding a grudge, because he wasn’t. But it almost seemed like history was repeating itself. Why did you always kiss and run? What was it about him that you didn’t want to stay?

He felt your arms coming around his back, your hands drawing slow patterns. “You’re right, it hurt plenty,” you admitted and your voice seemed to tremble, “I just don’t know what to do. It’s like we’ll always get hurt, no matter which route we take.”

Eric raised his head to look at you and he felt his heart ache when he saw tears running down your cheeks. “Maybe. But if we get hurt anyway, shouldn’t we at least make the most of being together now?” 

“Okay,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his.

He smiled, reaching up to wipe away your tears. “Okay,” he repeated. And then you kissed, again and again, until the sweet comfort of your touch drowned out the heartache that was haunting both of you.

For two days, you lived in your own little world, shut away from the reality that waited outside of Eric’s room and just indulging in the way it felt to be together. Of course you both knew it wasn’t going to last, it was a mock reality, a simulation of what could be under different circumstances. But Eric had given that enough thought already. At least for a bit he didn’t want to worry about that and just get a taste of that happiness, even if he had to return it eventually. You seemed to feel the same or at least that’s what Eric wanted to believe when you let him snuggle closer in the morning, giggling at the way he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ticklish on your bare skin. He smiled to himself, his chest brimming with happiness as he mindlessly started playing with your hand. You had pretty hands, he thought. He traced your fingers, one by one until he reached your ring finger. His delusional mind wondered, what it’d look like if you wore a ring. Preferably one that he’d gotten for you. Which reminded him—he did get one for you. It was way late, but it was neatly sitting in his nightstand.

“Y/n,” he started in a soft voice because the morning was too quiet to speak any louder, “Sorry for not winning you an arcade ring back then.” 

“You still remember that?”

“Of course I do. You know, I sometimes thought maybe things would have been different if I had won that ring for you.” It was supposed to be an introduction, leading up to the big reveal that he’d finally gotten that ring. That was romantic wasn’t it? But when he was about to sit up to reach for the drawer of his nightstand, you shot him down with your words.

“We would have gone down in flames either way. A plastic ring couldn’t have made a difference.”

“Right,” he whispered and his voice sounded choked up.

“Eric—”

“No, you’re right. It’s just a stupid ring. Who would be hung up on it all this time?” Who, aside from him, of course.

“It’s not that, Eric. It wasn’t stupid—but what I’m trying to say is it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong and it wasn’t because you didn’t win the ring for me. It just wasn’t the right time for us.”

“Is there ever going to be a right time for us?” Eric sounded bitter. He didn’t mean to, but he just didn't know how to hide his feelings about all of this. You tensed up, your fingers almost desperately intertwining themselves with his.

“There has to be,” you whispered and he heard the tears in your voice. He squeezed your hand, a silent comfort because he didn’t know what else to do or say. Nothing could stop you from leaving tomorrow. Nothing could change the circumstances you found yourselves in. 

You’d told him that he didn’t have to drive you to the airport, but he’d insisted. If he already couldn’t keep you he at least wanted to be with you for as long as possible. You arrived early, so you sat in one of the waiting areas for a bit, hands intertwined and a heavy silence hanging above you. It was hard to make conversation, because everything either of you could possibly say seemed so meaningless in the face of having to part. When it was finally time for you to head to the gate, Eric accompanied you as far as he could. You hugged for an eternity before reluctantly pulling away and it still seemed to be too short. Both of you had been crying on and off ever since you’d arrived at the airport, and there shouldn’t be any tears left at this point, but somehow there still were new ones coming anyway.

“I should really go now.”

“Yeah,” Eric nodded, but his fingers still held onto yours for a second longer, the thought of letting go painful, “I know.”

“It will be okay,” you whispered as you turned to leave and Eric wondered if you were telling him or yourself, “there will be a time for us.”

What bullshit, he thought to himself, watching you walk off. Why should you have to wait for a right time, after you’d already waited so long? The small plastic ball that he’d taken out of his nightstand and slipped into his pocket for god knows what reason felt impossibly heavy. He didn’t want to wait anymore.

“There won’t be,” he blurted out without thinking, “There won’t be a right time.”

You halted in your movements, slowly turning back around looking utterly heartbroken. “But can’t we hope?”

With a few steps he closed the distance between you again. “There will never be a right time for us. Because there is no such thing. Aren’t we the ones who should decide what time is right? I am tired of all this uncertainty. I don’t want to see you go without knowing if we’ll talk again. I know it isn’t easy to make things work long distance, but shouldn’t we at least try? Didn’t we spend enough time with regrets?”

“But how—how could I possibly ask that of you? After everything I’ve done, shouldn’t I make things easy for you now? How can I ask you to try something that seems to be doomed to fall apart?”

“Then what if I’m the one who’s asking you?” He pulled out the plastic capsule from his pocket, holding it out to you with shaking hands. “What if I’m the one who’s asking to try?”

You stared at it for a moment, clearly flabbergasted. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” he opened it to show you the tiny little arcade ring, and it made a new wave of tears roll down your cheeks. 

“You got it? For me?”

“A while ago. I know you said it wouldn’t change anything, it’s just plastic after all but—”

“You really went back to win it for me?” You were straight up sobbing now, but there was a smile in your eyes.

“Well, I said I would.”

“I love it,” you pressed out through tears, “I love you.” 

“Yeah,” he smiled back, trying his best and failing not to cry too. He’d wondered many times if he should just throw the ring away and move on. And maybe he should have, but right now, at this moment, he was glad he didn’t. “I love you too.”

23

Twenty-three was fine, he supposed. And for the most part it was. He felt too young to be finishing college and there was all that fear about what was to come after; the prospect of job interviews scary, the prospect of maybe not even getting invited infinitely scarier. But it wasn’t as frightening as it could have been, maybe because he'd been seeing a therapist for a while now. Or maybe because he wasn’t feeling so alone now. Despite not living in the same town anymore he had a lot of contact with his friends these days, both from college and high school. Actually Sunwoo had even come over to help with his move. Your move, to be more precise. You’d moved in together just a few weeks ago, after his classes had ended for good. It was a cozy little flat close to your workplace that you'd picked together, and Eric had never loved coming home more than he did now. There was nothing better than knowing you’d be there and even at the times you weren’t, he still found you in every inch of your shared apartment, from the potted plant in the kitchen that you insisted wasn’t dead yet, to your forgotten sock between the sofa cushions.

You also actually wore that tiny little arcade ring (on your pinky, because it didn't fit anywhere else). He’d told you a zillion times you didn’t have to wear it, but it gave him butterflies that you did. He promised himself that once he’d found a job he would save up for a proper ring, one that you wouldn’t have to wear on your pinky. The thought made him giddy and excited for the future, overshadowing all the scary parts. Yeah, twenty-three was definitely fine.

Masterlist

[missezramay]

ted lasso, post-finale thoughts.

I went into the finale thinking yeah, if the writing serves, I can accept any outcome even if it's not exactly what I want. Instead, I was hit with a plethora of mixed emotions I didn't expect to have. Confusion, anger, hurt, annoyance, small bursts of joy in between, and just deep sadness. Almost 20 hours later and I'm still incredibly dissatisfied and processing. For the most part, finales should provide a feeling of celebration and relief. I... don't feel any of that.

I'm just really trying to pinpoint why I'm so sad.

Of course everything inevitably has to come to an end. Of course Ted was always going to reunite with his kid. Of course it's not about winning or losing. Of course Tedbecca can remain platonic if that was always the plan. Of course that's the way life goes, but...

For a show (and this season particularly) that constantly encouraged us to 'believe' and 'hope' in the idea that 'everything will work out', all those 75 minutes did was take me on an unsettling, emotional journey for no concrete reason other than to mess with the audience (the opening scene was just adding salt in the Tedbecca wound I've had since S2). Because everything in a macro sense, "worked out". But the WAY it "worked out" does not sit well with me?? And it's supposed to? For a lot of people (on Reddit/Facebook, lol), it was enough?? Richmond not technically winning and Ted leaving like that without so much as a tear? What am I missing??

When I tell you I'm trying to embrace the good parts, I'm really trying. Yes to KBPR & the women's team, Yes to Colin kissing his fella, Yes to Rebecca & Mae & the guys owning the club, Yes to Roy becoming Manager.

So... why am I still so upset? Hmm, let's see.

The boys' musical number? The cutest. Ted didn't think so.

Nate's apology? Heartbreaking. Ted didn't bat an eyelash.

Rebecca begging twice for Ted to stay? Ted, absolute silence.

Beard staying/getting married in London to his toxic gf? Comic relief, haha, fine. Except Ted wasn't there as Best Man.

Don't even get me started on the huge disservice to the Roy/Keeley/Jamie triangle.

Now listen, I get that he misses Henry & Henry misses his dad. I'm not that cold. A father/son's love is important. It was always the catalyst for this show; for him to work on himself so he can be a better father unlike the one he grew up with. That's fine.

But on this particular week. His last week with his Richmond family. There was NO sense of him being sad to leave them. He can be sad about missing Henry but he can ALSO be sad about leaving. No, he just completely checked out. He let everyone pour out their hearts (Hannah's getting her third Emmy, mark my words) to him, and he just stone-faced the entire time.

THIS DOES NOT MAKE ANY SENSE TO ME.

The argument is that he was internally processing, he was overwhelmed, he was trying to distance himself so it would hurt less. Fair points, okay. But this is a television show, moreover, A FINALE. TV characters, while relatable, are heightened versions of ourselves, there so we can better process our emotions and learn to handle things better in our real lives. Ted deserved MORE dialogue and displaying MORE emotion than whatever this was.

We're never going to see him again. We're over here crying along with Rebecca, Nate & Beard, but he didn't sob once. Even though he spent three years building a family with them. I even thought, hey at least he left his legacy with Trent's book but newsflash, he wanted his name taken off that too! Complete erasure.

I just feel so robbed of better moments. Like there were nice moments here and there. But they could've been BETTER. Honestly, Nate & Rebecca's breakdowns were close to perfection, so much love there. But the lack of dialogue and Ted not reciprocating? Broke ME.

I just cannot. understand. this. choice.

Massive sigh. I'm just truly baffled by the way everything wrapped up and not getting the satisfied feeling that one half of the viewership got. Maybe I'm in the minority, but that means something. It carries weight. Also, for a "three-season arc" that was planned well in advance, why all the rewrites and parallels and fakeouts... it's just cruel. But as the theme says (and maybe this was a warning all along), yeah, I guess this might well be it.

This show has given us so much and the last season flailed for the most part. I don't want to disrespect the show by being negative and cynical (looks like I failed!!) or cast blame on anyone in particular. The cast/crew are amazing people and I'll be grateful for being a part of the journey but I'm just so sad and this feeling sucks and I will never get over it.

Going to miss them. x

[dick-helmet-magneto]

Top Five Fanfictions you've read, and top 5 fanfictions you've written!

Jesus Kay...

I'm so bad at keeping up with fanfics i've read. I genuinely have no idea but I'm starting with my bookmarks and working from there Top five fanfics i've read (in no particular order)

Misunderstandings Galore - xXQueenofDragonsXx in which Erik thinks Peter is Charles's son. I've read this fic so many times i keep thinking about it and coming back to it. I love a good misunderstanding

Drive My Way - Schatz2020 Race car driver Erik, surgeon Charles. They meet and Erik crashes his car. cannot be sold enough race car driver Erik. The world needs more. Especially with hurt Erik? Tear that boy to shreds. I once lost this fic and spent weeks looking for it.

If It Happens One More Time ('More Than Adequate' Remix) - Butterynutjob Charles and Erik meet, Erik is insecure. Charles finds out it's because Erik's wife is controlling and emotionally abusive. Another fic I've spent weeks looking for at one point. I just love Erik being hurt and Charles caring for him. There's a big theme going on here.

The next two aren't cherik related but live in my head rent free. both are by @rammyrue (hope the tag is okay)

Emergency Contact Sebastian is bought a sex worker, then is mistaken as the sex worker's emergency contact. It's been so long since I've read this fic but I think about it so much. It's been a while since i've read any mormor fics but this this one has stayed with me in the best way

Profess Sebastian goes to the wrong lecture, falls for Jim and for the woman Jim lives with. I've read this more times than I could count. At least once a week it enters my mind. There are parts that I just suddenly remember and go back to reread like I'm watching my favorite episode of a show.

I could take the easy way out and give the like over all most popular fics i've written but I feel like that's not the goal here. almost 350 fics to sort through. Top five fanfics i've written (in no particular order)

Pawns and Rings 5 Times Charles and Erik play chess and 1 time Erik proposes to Charles instead.

Professors Stark and Strange Tony and Stephen are professors they're married, no one knows. It's a whole thing. This is on the list just because it is objectively, looking at hits and kudos the best fic I've written almost 12k hits, over 1.5k kudos, over 100 bookmarks.

See for Yourself Sebastian is going blind and what good is a blind sniper?

Not Who You Think I Am Sub Erik, dom Charles. Everyone worries that Erik is abusing Charles because of how intimidating he is. Less about the fic, more about the plot. I love fics where everyone thinks Erik is dangerous and going to hurt Charles but around Charles and Charles only he's the softest, kindest, most caring boyfriend.

Secret Dad-ing Unknown to everyone in the school, in the dead of the night, when everyone else sleeps, Erik steals some moments alone with his son.