#not living at home during the weeks is taking such a toll on her (she’s only 16)

[tuttiwrites]

A wild fic appears!

Eavesdropper (pt1 of 2)

*Rating: T (maybe very mild T+)

*Kieran and Juliana are 22ish here, and Carmine is 25. Some adult references and wants expressed here, but nothing out of pocket.

CW: Brief mentions of living together & sleeping together; fluffy fluff, pre-proposal jitters, grumpy Kiki misses his Julie

Kieran rolled over on his futon for the eleventh time. He huffed in frustration, feeling the toll his restlessness was taking on him. Sleep was elusive tonight. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, hoping that it was nearly morning.

It was 12:39 AM, about 15 minutes since the last time he’d checked.

He groaned. Of all the nights to spend tossing and turning, it had to be tonight. He flopped over on his back and stared up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. Why now? He ran his fingers through his hair and shut his eyes.

It wasn’t the summer heat; his window was open and he’d gone to bed in a light t-shirt and pajama shorts. He preferred the heat to the cold, anyways. He didn’t even mind that his feet stuck out a little from the end of the too-small futon.

It wasn’t jet lag, either. He and Julie had arrived in Kitakami five days ago, and they’d adjusted to the time change quickly, just as they had for the past six years during festival season. It wasn’t from pent-up energy either, that was for sure. They’d kept themselves busy helping with the Festival of Masks since day one, and had gone to bed dead tired every night. He’d spent the better part of the evening hiking up and down Oni Mountain with a tour group, and his body was aching for rest. Yet here he was, still awake and mad about it.

I’d sleep better if Julie were here, he thought grumpily, rolling over with another huff. Kieran pouted, remembering their agreement to sleep in separate rooms during the trip. It was a dumb one, in his opinion, but a necessary one.

Carmine had given them a friendly but firm reminder that things were different back home in Kitakami than they were in Paldea. Julie and Kieran agreed to the arrangement, but not without some grumbling. But regardless of how they felt about it, they were his grandparent’s guests for the week, and they were to abide by their rules. To Grandma and Grandpa, it wasn’t proper for them to room together, not as a young unmarried couple.

Sure, they had an apartment together in Paldea, and they had been living together for six months now – quite happily, he’d add – but no. He knew the neighbors were nosy, and word would spread quickly in a small town about something so scandalous. Heaven forbid they gossip about - gasp! - two consenting adults in love sharing a room.

But he wasn’t bitter about that at all. Not in the slightest.

He buried his face in the pillow. He missed Julie so badly it hurt. She was just downstairs in the guest room, but still, it was the principle of the thing. He was here and she was there, and it felt wrong on so many levels. He sighed heavily into his pillow.

If things worked out like he hoped they would tomorrow, they wouldn’t have to worry about this problem ever again.

Deep down, Kieran knew exactly why he couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow was important, to say the least. Tomorrow, at the same spot he’d asked her to be his girl all those years ago, he’d be proposing to Julie. He’d been waiting for this day for months now, and it was mere hours away from arriving. His mind was a mess of excitement and nervousness, wondering how his plan would play out. He knew in his heart that it’d be just fine, but his mind quietly questioned that confidence.

He sat up, flinging the covers to the side. He needed a reminder of why he was here.

Kieran reached over and pulled his suitcase closer to him. He rummaged around amongst his clean clothes until he finally found what he was looking for. The Butterfree in his stomach stirred up again as his hand closed around the small box. He’d had the same reaction the first time he’d held it a month ago.

He opened the velvet-clad box to inspect the ring inside.

It was simple but elegant engagement ring. Julie wasn’t the type to wear impractical jewelry, anyway. A brilliant garnet sparkled at the center of the ring, flanked by two smaller diamonds. That color held a lot of significance in their relationship. The stone was red like the first candy apple they’d shared as kids, red like the Applins they’d traded to first confess their feelings, and red like her favorite lipstick that always wound up all over his face. Not that he minded in the slightest. The silver band looked delicate, but Olivia had reassured him it was strong enough to last a lifetime. It was perfect for her, and he could barely wait to give it to her tomorrow night.

It had taken everything in him to not blurt out exactly why he had been so cheerful for the past month. Keeping the ring secret had been the hardest part of his plan. Commissioning Kahuna Olivia to make the ring had gone smoothly, and sneaking the ring from the mailbox to his pocket once it arrived from Alola had been a cinch.

No, the hard part was resisting the temptation to give her the ring right away.

The thought of finally calling Julie his wife filled Kieran with a joy he couldn’t put into words. If he hadn’t planned out how he wanted to propose already, he’d have dropped down on one knee the day he got the ring and proposed in their kitchen. As wonderful as that sounded at the time, he wanted to give her a moment she’d never forget, even if it meant waiting a little longer. A month had come and gone since then, and he’d successfully kept his plans to propose a surprise.

But all the same, it felt wrong to keep a secret from her for so long, even a good one. Considering how much damage had been caused in the early years of their relationship by keeping secrets, it was no wonder this situation was causing him so much stress. The two of them had agreed to be open with one another about anything and everything, and up until now, he’d stuck to that agreement.

He smiled, admiring the ring once more before putting it back in its hiding place. He figured she could forgive him, just this once.

Kieran had shoved his suitcase back against his desk when he swore he heard something. It was faint, but he was sure it was a voice. He paused, wondering who else would be up so late tonight. He got up and walked towards the door, listening carefully. Nothing he could make out clearly, but now he was sure there were two voices.

Carefully, he twisted the knob of his door and pulled it open ever so slightly. The conversation was much clearer now, and he recognized the voices right away.

“So, you can’t sleep either, huh?”

“No, not really. Too much on my mind right now.”

“Like what? Is my brother getting on your nerves? If he is-“

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well…I’ve been thinking about the future and…”

“And what?”

Julie’s reply was barely audible. Kieran opened the door a little more. He was invested in this conversation now.

“Have you talked to him about that?” His sister’s tone was gentle. She sounded more sisterly with Julie than she ever did with him.

“Kinda. We’ve talked about it before, but we’ve not made any plans yet.”

“Are you worried he won’t?”

Won’t what? He wondered. A knot formed in his stomach knowing he was making Julie worry. But what was she worried about?

“No, but… well, I don’t know if he thinks I’d say yes if he did.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong. He overthinks everything.”

“But you know I would, Carmine. Right here, right now, if he asked.”

Kieran froze. His eyes darted to his suitcase. That could be arranged.

“I know you would. He better ask you soon. I’m gettin’ tired of him draggin’ his feet.”

Kieran rolled his eyes. Carmine could be a decent actress when she wanted to be. She was the first person he’d shown the ring to, and she knew good and well he’d been planning to propose for a long time now. He had to give her credit though; she hadn’t blown his cover. Yet.

“Do you promise not to tease me if I tell you something?”

A pause. “Depends.”

A sigh. “Alright. So, you know how I’ve been hoping Kieran would propose to me?”

Kieran stood up straighter, a smile forming.

“Yeah?”

“Well… If he doesn’t ask me soon, I’ve…well, I’ve figured out how I want to propose to him.”

Kieran’s jaw dropped. Now this he had to hear. He opened the door further and peered out, just enough for him to see into the upstairs hallway and down the stairs.

It was completely dark, perfect for him to sneak out undetected. He stepped lightly out of his room and towards the staircase. He could hear them clearly now; if he had to guess, they were sitting together outside of Carmine’s room. He figured he could get to the bottom of the stairs without them seeing him.

Slowly, he descended the steps one by one, skipping the fourth squeaky step with care. He listened intently to the conversation down below. He wanted - no, needed - to hear what Julie had to say.

“I swear on my life, I won’t laugh at you. You’ve gotta tell me.”

“Alright.” Julie took in a deep breath, and let out a sigh. “…Carmine, I dunno if I can do this.”

“If it helps, pretend I’m Kieran.” Carmine dropped her voice low and exaggerated her drawl. “You can tell me anythin’, Julie.”

Kieran held back a laugh. He had enough self-worth to take his sister’s jabs in stride now. On occasion, like right now, she was even kind of funny.

Julie giggled. “You’re mean, Carmine.”

“I know, I’m working on that. But for real, how are you gonna do it?”

He heard Julie yawn, then saw her hand pass by as she stretched. She was sitting by the foot of the stairs, dangerously close to him. Kieran sat down in the middle of the staircase. This was close enough for now, he reasoned.

“Ok,” Julie began, “so I want to go back to where he first asked me out. That nice little place with the bench and the lanterns where you can see the whole village below you, y’know?”

“Mhmmm.”

“So, I want to wait until right before the big fireworks finale, and ask him then. It was really romantic how he asked me out like that, and I thought it’d be right to do the same. I don’t have a ring yet or anything, but… I don’t think he’d mind that. I know he’d have one if he asked me, but I’ve never heard of a girl giving a guy a ring. I mean, I want to but… I dunno, is that weird for a girl to want to do that?”

Carmine laughed softly. “No, not at all.”

Kieran agreed. He’d happily take any ring she offered him.

“Good. I love him so much, Carmine. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You won’t, he thought. You could never do that.

“You won’t,” Carmine assured her. “You’re doin’ great so far. Alright, so you’ve got him where you want him, now what?”

“Now I ask him to marry me. I’ve got what I want to say memorized, if you want to hear that.”

It took every ounce of restraint he had for Kieran not to blurt out a yes.

“Sure, go ahead.”

A beat of silence.

“Kieran.”

His heart skipped a beat, half from joy and half from fear. On one hand, hearing her say his name was the most beautiful sound in the world. On the other…crap, had Julie seen him?

If she had, she didn’t say so. Instead, she moved on with her proposal.

“Kieran, I want to let you know that my life is so much better with you in it. I’m glad we met, and I’m glad you’ve stayed by my side all these years. The good times are better with you, and the bad times are easier when we’re together. These have been the best years of my life. And…I want every day to be like that. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is…Kieran, will you marry me?”

Kieran knew his answer. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops. Well, he wanted to do more than that, truthfully. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and give her the most passionate kiss he could give. He wanted to run upstairs, grab her ring, and rush down the stairs into her arms. If they had been alone, he wouldn’t have minded starting the honeymoon early.

But now wasn’t the time to think about himself.

As impatient as he was, he had to wait. She didn’t know he was here listening in to their conversation, which wasn’t exactly romantic. He’d cause more harm than good surprising her now. She’d be shocked and probably embarrassed to know he’d overheard something she hadn’t been ready to share with him yet. He couldn’t do that to her. Not to the love of his life.

This eavesdropping habit of his nearly ruined his life once, he thought, feeling the guilt creep up on him. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“So…what do you think? Think he’ll say yes?”

Kieran smiled. I know I will.

A wet sniffle broke the silence.

“Carmine, are you ok?”

“Yeah, just…” Another sniffle. “Hooh, ok. That was really good.”

“It was?” Julie sounded hopeful.

“Yeah. I mean damn, I’d marry you after all that.”

A sudden flash of jealousy overtook Kieran’s rational thoughts. No, MY Julie. It was a childish reaction, sure, but it was true. The sleep deprivation was getting to him.

“Well, that’s a big compliment. Thank you, and thank you again for listening.”

“No problem. He better marry you, or I’m gonna have something to say about that.”

No worries, Sis, he thought. If he had his way, they’d be running to the altar right now. He stifled a yawn, feeling the day catching up with him all at once. Or maybe that could wait until morning.

“I’m headin’ on to bed. We’ve got another tour group at the tea house in the mornin’, and I’ve gotta be up bright an’ early.”

“Me too. They’ve got me scheduled for a showcase battle with Ponpon at 11.”

“G’night Julie.”

“Goodnight, Carmine.”

Kieran considered his own schedule. The last hiking tour up Oni Mountain would start at 7 AM, thoughtfully scheduled to avoid the blistering summer heat. He grimaced at the thought of getting up before sunrise. It’d be tough to put on his cheery tour guide persona while running on six hours of sleep, but he’d try his best. Thank goodness it was the end of the festival tomorrow.

And, he thought with a smile, it’d be the end of a very long wait.

He made his way silently up the stairs and back to his room, feeling the exhaustion quickly overtake him. But now, at least, he could sleep with his mind at ease.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

Author’s note: Part 2 inbound hopefully soon! Thank y’all for your patience. Also, there’s a reason I chose a garnet for the ring. I’m curious if you all can guess why. :)

Thank you again!

-Kay

#dipplinshipping #kay writes #kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran pokemon

[delfiore]

—NOTHING IN THE WORLD BELONGS TO ME (BUT MY LOVE).

pairing: aitana bonmatí x reader

synopsis: a picture of you and aitana making out during a team party is leaked online.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: she's my bbg your honor.

“Thank you. Yeah, call me whenever you need to.”

You ended the phone call and groaned into your hand. It was almost dinnertime, but you had no energy left to even think of cooking after being on the phone for literal hours.

Walking into the living room, you found Aitana watching TV, or rather, the screen was on but she was staring into space somewhere.

“Paolo said it’s murky because we were in a public space, but not really ‘cause it was in the hallway. He’s getting paid to win this case though, and that he will,” you said.

Aitana looked at you briefly with a half smile.

She hasn’t talked much since this morning when the news came. You felt guilty for not having sat with her longer, but you needed to get your attorney involved as soon as possible.

“It’ll be okay, babe, I promise,” you sat next to her and put your arm around her shoulder. Still, she seemed tense.

“Is it . . .” Aitana drew a breath, “is it really that bad? That people know about us now?”

You sighed quietly, pulling your arm away to hold her downcast gaze. “It doesn’t matter. They sold those pictures to the press against our will. They infringed on our rights. I thought you understood that.”

Your tone came out harsher than you anticipated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .”

“No, todo bien.” She shook her head and sat up. “You want takeout or no?”

You mentally cursed at yourself as she turned off the TV. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

You watched her walk over to the island by the kitchen, to pick up her phone.

“Tana,” you said, and she turned around. “Te quiero mucho.”

Aitana mustered up the best smile she could, and you recognized that. She knew you were burdened with the responsibility of talking to attorneys, and you were trying very hard, but she was a bit disappointed that you wanted so badly to stop the pictures from going public. She was never good at the legal part, she didn’t know a lot, but she trusted you to make the right decisions, and she loved you a lot too.

The pictures were taken the night before, while you were out with the team to celebrate another league title win. It was the end of the season, and it would be a few weeks before the summer international break, and your teammates were down to party at a local club for the hard work of another season.

It had been an eventful one, full of trials and tribulations, for you especially. Having undergone a surgery, you were forced to the sidelines for a good chunk of the season. Aitana had been there with you through everything; staying in the hospital after your surgery, preparing your shared home for your foreseeable impediment, reminding you to take your daily meds . . . She was the only reason you were still standing, because the toll the injury took on you physically was a speck compared to how it did on you mentally.

You had gone to get another drink and, upon you returning, found Aitana dancing with some of your teammates on the dance floor. Grinning and shaking your head, you could never get enough of how much of a party animal your girlfriend could become when she was able to. A tint of pink adorned her cheeks when she spotted you and pulled you towards the dance floor with her.

“I’ll take that, thank you,” you pretended to be offended when she took the glass from your hand and took a sip, grimacing as soon as she did. “Ooh! It’s strong!”

“Slow down, baby,” you laughed at her.

Aitana snorted, “lame.” She slung her arm around your neck, as you giggled into her ear. “Come here.”

“Not here,” you shook your head and gently pushed her away.

You could just barely make out a her huff, as she pulled away. “You’re no fun. Let loose for one night, will you?”

A few drinks later, you found yourself with your arm slung around Lucy as the two of you led the disharmonious choir of Barcelona players singing (badly) to the music.

You heard Aitana cackling in the corner as the song finished, doubling over and clapping her hands at your drunken rendition of a Zedd song.

“Let’s go, everyone! Next round’s on me!” You said and your teammates cheered.

Your eyes found your girlfriend by your side, just as she always was, waiting to take care of you and share your happiness.

Her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you to her, as you felt her laughter vibrate against your chest. You had pulled her away from the main floor and into a secluded hallway, or at least it was what you thought in your drunken haze.

Your lips were pressed against hers hungrily, with passion better saved for the privacy of your shared bedroom rather than a packed nightclub. Aitana let out a trembling sigh, enjoying the sweet taste of your kiss and the push and pull of your hands along her body.

“God, you’re so good to me,” you whispered into her lips. “I love you.”

She was oblivious to the storm that was to come when a club-goer snapped a picture of the two of you. Though the lighting left much to be desired, your features were captured perfectly, and within context, people put two and two together.

Aitana was the first to see the photo when she woke up the next morning. Maybe it’s not so bad, she had told herself, at least people know now.

She only regretted seeing the pure bliss on your face disappear the moment you found the picture online, and you had been on-call with your attorney ever since.

You never really shook off the tension that resided between your eyebrows, in the curl of your upper lip, and your shoulders over the next few days. You, Aitana, and the rest of the team were back in pre-season training, and everyone could tell you were stressing over it. Though you took training seriously, there was always a smile on your face even when someone had beaten you in a drill. Yet now, you scowled and kicked the grass whenever you lost the ball, or whenever someone dribbled past you. It got to the point where you got yourself into a scuffle with Lucy. Aitana had looked over at the commotion, and seen you all up in Lucy’s personal space, arguing with her, as a couple of the assistant coaches had to separate you from her.

Aitana hated the pitiful looks her teammates would give her afterwards. She clenched her jaw and watched Jonatan lead you inside for a talk. She was planning on giving you an earful when she caught you alone, but when you emerged with Jonatan, your eyes were bloodshot like you had been crying.

You refused to talk the entire car ride home, even refusing to look at her, opting to look out the window instead.

The moment you got home, you threw your dirty clothes into the laundry and headed upstairs.

“You want me to reheat leftovers, cariño?” She tried to ask.

“No, thanks,” you didn’t even look back. “I’m just gonna go and take a nap.”

You woke up around 8 pm. Aitana knew because she was downstairs watching TV when you skirted down the stairs like an apparition and crept into the kitchen looking for food.

She took the opportunity when you were distracted with dumping the rest of the content from the Tupperware onto a plate. Snaking her arms around your waist, she pressed her head onto your shoulder. She sighed in relief when she felt the warmth of your right hand encircle her own.

“I embarrassed myself today, didn’t I?” You said quietly.

Aitana pursed her lips and pulled you around to look at her. “That wasn’t very nice, no.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled into her shoulder.

“It’s not me you need to say sorry to,” your girlfriend sighed and hugged you tightly. “We will be okay, my love.”

“I just think about those picture, and I just . . .” You exhaled sharply and buried your nose into her neck. “Fuck, I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” Aitana frowned, and cupped your cheeks, leaning in. “Why don’t I distract you for a bit?”

Her lips found yours in a tender kiss. For a moment, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of her touch and her love. Your lips slotted together in a kiss that became more intimate the moment Aitana slipped her hands under your shirt and caressed your pelvis. You groaned as you felt her drag her fingertips towards your back, stretching your waistband and pulling it further out so she could feel further down.

“Fuck . . .” You groaned impatiently, cupping her neck roughly as you used your hips to press her back against the counter.

She was breathless now, one hand in your shorts and the other itching to get your shirt off, but you pulled away before she could do anything.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this today,” you sighed, detaching yourself from her completely to return to making your food.

Aitana watched you put the leftovers into the microwave before leaving you in the kitchen. She understood that you were stressed, but she was thrown off by the way you have been pushing her away the past few days. She knew herself; if she said something, you would say something, and before she knew it things would turn into an argument and someone would say something they didn’t mean.

Pushing the scenario to the back of her head, she headed upstairs to get ready for bed.

In the following days, she felt you pulling away further and further from her. The only times she really saw you were during training, otherwise you would avoid her completely. She spotted you standing in a hallway looking out the window once. Upon approaching you, she noticed you were on the phone with your earbuds in, and against her better judgment, left you be.

Your teammates noticed the sudden rift between you and Aitana too—you two who were always stuck at the hip, you two who turned to each other first in times of victory and defeat, you two whom everyone bet on tying the knot first. Frido was the first to reach out, and had Aitana brushed it off like it was something trivial, but her teammate saw right through the lie. Aitana was Aitana, never asking for help and always having gotten by on her own, but this time her Frido knew it was severe, because Aitana never misses a goal in training, never.

During a match at the weekend, Aitana scored. Usually, she would look to you and jump into your arms to celebrate, but this time, you were already walking back to the halfway line while several of her teammates swarmed her in glee. She felt sick to her stomach, she felt like everything was her fault, and her frustration built and before she knew it, she had stomped on an opponent’s ankle in an attempt to win the ball back. When she realized the weight of the situation, it was already too late; the incident happened just next to the sidelines in front of the assistant referee, and she was shown a red card for using excessive force.

Barcelona won, of course, as they always have, even whilst playing away and down to 10 men. You walked into the dressing room, feeling the on-set fatigue coming on. You glanced at the broken bottle and the puddle of energy drink into one corner of the room, then Aitana sitting in her cubby in the other. You haven’t been very kind to her the past few days, and you doubted that she’d want your comfort anyway because of that. Plus, you weren’t in the mood to talk to her right now; what she did was immature and out of line. What you didn’t know was that she had thrown that bottle across the room and blamed herself, wishing that she’d be able to cry into your arms. Instead, she had pressed her legs to her chest, and hugged herself as she cried alone in that dressing room.

Frido found out, of course; everyone has their breaking point eventually, even the strongest and most resilient. Frido told Ingrid, Ingrid told Mapi, Mapi got angry, and confronted you one day.

In her fury—and maybe in yours too—you didn’t make out everything she hurled at you, but you recognized an insulting word when you heard one. Instead of turning away like you had initially intended, you turned around and lunged at her.

“What did you say to me?! Say it again. I dare you!”

Frido had to drag you away, and it was her stern look alone that de-escalated the situation.

“She started it first!” You shoved her away as you took deep breaths through the worst of your anger.

“She was right to call you that, Y/N. You are a fucking asshole,” she said. You turned around, expecting her to apologize, but you saw no trace of remorse.

“What the fuck?”

“You’re an asshole. You don’t even notice your girlfriend is suffering.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “What did she tell you? That I’ve been busy trying to get these fucking pictures taken down? Because someone violated my privacy? Her privacy? Because I won’t pay attention to her for one goddamn second?”

The Swede scoffed and shook her head. “Listen to yourself. You’ve become despicable. I understand that you’re going through a hard time, but so is Aitana. People are talking about her too. You don’t think she’s also stressed out? She won’t ask you for help because she’s Aitana and she would never ask anyone for help. You knew that better than anyone, yet you’ve left her all alone, you asshole!”

Frido was yelling at you, scolding you like a child. Your anger bubbled, but it soon turned into guilt when her words sunk in.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Y/N. Aitana deserves the respect that everyone has given her, except you.”

She pushed past you roughly, and you felt the weight of her scolding. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and it was an incoming text from your lawyer.

“We have grounds to press charges, and we’ll most likely win if you choose to do so. Let me know what you and Aitana decide on.”

“Fuck”, you locked your phone with an impending need to throw it into the window pane in front of you.

This was what you wanted ever since you saw that picture on Twitter, but now you weren’t sure if it was the right course of action anymore. Your insistence on press charges has made you become a rotten human being, and looking back at the last few days, you didn’t recognize this person you have become. Picking fights with your teammates, being a sore loser in training games, abandoning Aitana. You had no idea what she was thinking the past few days, and it scared you. She used to tell you everything.

Your knees gave out below you, and you felt the exhaustion from the last week come crashing down. You took a seat on a nearby bench and cradled your head in your hands. There was the sound of studs clicking evenly against the ground beside you before the bench strained under the weight of another body.

Looking up you saw Mapi leaning against the bench looking at you with a soft expression.

You were too tired to fight, but you didn’t think Mapi was here to continue where you both left off before, which was why it surprised you that she was here.

“Sorry for calling you a cabró,” she said casually, looking away.

“You’re not wrong,” you muttered. “I am a cabró, the biggest cabró there ever was.”

You felt her strong hand on your shoulder. “Todos cometen errores, amiga. Se trata de si intentas enmendarlo o no. Entonces, ¿lo harás?” (”Everyone makes mistakes, bud. It’s about whether you try to make up for it or not. So, will you?”)

You pursed your lips, finding comfort in Mapi’s generosity. “Where’s Aitana?”

"Viene a casa para pasar la noche con nosotros. Te sugiero que le des espacio y uses este tiempo para reflexionar sobre tus acciones también.” (“She's coming home to stay overnight with us. I suggest you give her some space and use this time to reflect on your actions too.”)

You nodded as Mapi gave you one last pat on the shoulder before taking her leave. You were glad to have friends such as Mapi, Ingrid, and Frido. In your egotism, at least Aitana still had your friends.

Upon returning to an empty home, you felt creeping in a sense of loneliness that you haven’t felt in a long, long time. The last time you felt like this, Barcelona had just won its first ever Champions League in the women’s club history, and you had gone home by yourself after a night out celebrating. Playing in a foreign country, you didn’t feel so isolated until you witness your teammates celebrating wins with their family, friends, and significant others. Your loneliness was short-lived though, as it was Aitana that came knocking on your door, wanting to stay with you. It was the night of your first kiss, and the night from which you hadn’t felt lonely ever since.

There hasn’t been a text or call from Aitana at all, and you knew you had fucked up big time.

“Can’t begin to say how sorry I am for the way I’ve been treating you,” you texted her. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll pick you up from Mapi’s and there will be love waiting for you at home.”

You spent the rest of the night watching TV, keeping your phone by your side at all times in case your girlfriend wanted to reach you, but the screen stayed black the entire time.

At Mapi and Ingrid’s, Aitana was laughing at something Mapi had said. The three women were slightly buzzed from the wine they had drunken earlier at dinner, and Aitana had felt lighter than she has the entire week. She saw your text as soon as it was sent to her phone, but opted not to response for her own peace of mind. Despite her heart still aching when she thought about the way you acted, she couldn’t help the little smile that made its way onto her lips reading it.

She will always be able to find it in her somewhere to love you, and she could only hope that you could do the same for her because she would rather go through thunderstorms with you than lie in a field of roses with someone new.

You jolted as you thought you might have forgotten the house keys when you walked up to Mapi and Ingrid’s. Patting your back pocket, you were quickly reassured that you had them with you, as you made a mental note of where everything was.

Ingrid opened the door for you with a smile, and invited you inside.

“Pretty flowers,” she said, gesturing at the large bouquet you had in your hands.

You smiled proudly and muttered a ‘thank you’. You eyes quickly found your girlfriend conversing with Mapi by the kitchen island, and your heart began beating wildly.

Her eyes landed on you, as you had half-expected a disapproving frown and her ignoring you to carry on her conversation. Instead, she offered you a smile and walked towards you.

“Hi,” you said. Attempting to say any more than that and you risked looking like a blabbering buffoon from the mess of a mind you had.

“Hi,” she mirrored your tone in a teasing manner. “Is that for me?”

“Oh, yeah. Here you go,” you handed her the bouquet and said goodbye to Mapi and Ingrid.

“Thank you,” you whispered to the both of them after Aitana had gotten into the car. The ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. You would look over once in a while, seeing her watch the scenery flash by through the window. At a red light, you gathered the courage to reach out and grab her hand. This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you brought her hand up to kiss the back of it just as the light turned green.

Aitana stopped by the door the moment she saw your apartment. It was spotless, everything was clean and tidy, and lit by the few lamps you had chosen to leave on, casting a warm glow over the entire place. The dinner table had been set like it belonged in a high-end restaurant, with a white tablecloth set perfectly across the middle and a few candles to highlight.

“I got antsy at home, so I decided to clean up a bit. Hopefully, it doesn’t look too sterile,” you laughed and scratched the back of your neck.

“No, it’s . . . it’s perfect.”

You smiled bashfully and offered to take the flowers for her. There was hesitancy in the way you stepped away from her to prepare the bouquet to put them in a vase like the distance might dilute this warm air between you. You didn’t want to be away from her for too long; you had suffered the past couple of days without her.

When you returned, Aitana was on the couch on her phone. From the way she instantly looked up from it as she heard you coming in, you reckoned she was nervous too. You placed the vase on the dinner table and took a seat next to her.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I know,” Aitana said, and stroked your head.

Taking a deep breath, you put your head on her lap, and tried to steady your breathing.

“I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you. You didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry for leaving you alone.” You spewed, trying your very best to form coherent words out of the thoughts that have been racing in your head for days. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me. You’ve always been so good to me, and I hate myself for not doing the same for you when it mattered.”

Aitana was quiet, but from the way her breath trembled as she drew it, you could tell she was trying not to cry, and it made you tear up too.

You sat up and held her gaze. “I won’t let something that was out of my hands destroy us. I may not be able to control it when someone posts a picture of us, but I can control how I react to it.”

“What did Paolo say?” Aitana questioned.

“That we’ll win if we press charges, but I’m tired of letting this consume me. So I’ll let you decide whether we do or not.”

Aitana pursed her lips. “I don’t think it’s worth it. I’m sorry we weren’t able to tell the world about us ourselves, but I’m glad it’s out there now.”

You nodded and smiled at her, “I’m so sorry.”

Shaking her head, she pulled you into her chest. “I forgive you,” she planted a kiss on your forehead. “You’re my love. I love you so much. I didn’t want to burden you.”

You nodded, unable to hold back the tears this time. “Don’t be scared to talk to me next time. I’ll always be here to listen from now on.”

Aitana wiped her tears away, and nodded, bringing you in for a soft kiss. She whispered repeatedly how much she loved you, and you could only silently thank the universe for giving you the love of such a good woman.

You spent the rest of the evening in her arms as you discussed how things could be better in your relationship, and when dinner time rolled around, the two of you went into the kitchen to prepare food together.

At the end of the night, you posted a picture of Aitana on your Instagram story. ‘My love mine all mine’, you had captioned it, before putting your phone on silent. The mayhem was looming, but you may just have enough to power through the sudden limelight that was waiting to point toward you, and those hazel eyes made it all worth it.

#aitana bonmati x reader #aitana bonmatí x reader #aitana bonmati imagine #aitana bonmatí imagines #aitana bonmati #aitana bonmatí #aitana bonmati angst #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso x reader #ingrid engen #fridolina rolfö #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #lucy bronze

[pascallatte]

Love in Lockdown

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: A series of events that had happened during the lockdown. (Part 1)

Date: March&April 2020

Warning: none just fluff

A/N: I don't really have anything to say other than the usual. SO, I hope you enjoy this. Please tell me what you think and stay tuned for more!!

March 2020

Y/n was showing the final touches of the cookies she baked when a flour-covered hand was spread out from the right cheek to the left.

“Hello, Hello,” you said to the camera as soon as you started the live. Being stuck at home for a good few weeks now has taken a toll on you both the good and the bad. But let’s focus on the good thing, shall we? You see, you weren’t sure what type of person you were before this… thing happened. So, the pandemic not only helped you and Pedro get your well-deserved rest, but it also helped you know how much of a homebody you were. Now, here you were having your third live since the lockdown started.

Humming out a tune you were seen walking around before you placed the phone and a tray of cookies on your countertop. You were like always in a pair of comfy sweats and a very familiar shirt, however, you were also wearing an apron.

“Hiiii, I didn’t have anything better to d-,” you paused when you heard the door to your bedroom open,”-yeah, I didn’t have anything better to do... again, so I decided to make some cookies.” You said as you held out a freshly baked cookie to the camera. Like always, the comment section sent in comments of appreciation and love as well as generic questions.

“ I haven’t really baked cookies before since I’m a savoury type of girl. If this turns out bad, they’re just telling me to go and stick to what I know.” Placing your hands on your waist as you scan the cookies. You began explaining what you’ve done to make them and what recipe you followed after the comments were flooded after your declaration a while ago.

While you were doing your thing, a hand, also widely known as Pedro’s hand, was seen reaching for a cookie from the camera's left side. Turning to him, you gave him a disapproving look before pulling him closer, joining in with your live.

Pedro was now waving to the camera, giving the viewers his dimpled smile, and turned to you before looking down at the cookie in his hand as if asking for permission. 

“Pedro. Really?” You said looking up at him.

“Yesss, really. Well- I mean someone was going to have to eat them right?” He said holding the cookie up closer to his mouth.

Faking a frown, you looked at the camera, “Look at what I have to put up with for almost a month now, not only does he take the food I make, but he also eventually makes a bigger mess than I.”

“Hey, don’t tell them lies, don’t believe her,” he shakes his head, before hugging you from behind, swaying you in his arms. You were now fixing up the bowls and utensils that you’ve used and him engulfing you in his arms, making it harder to move.

“Honey, let go of me for a moment.” You whispered to him as he leaned down to rest his chin on your shoulder. The cookie he took, is now near you as a silent gesture of telling you to take the first bite.

“Nah, you’re this big Cookie Monster, go take the first bite and tell me how I did,” you turned to look at him. 

“Should I take a bite of this?” Pedro asked the viewers, scanning the cookie very closely.

“Yeah, you should, but what if she added something that would kill me,” he joked as he saw the look on your face. Laughing, he stood up straight while also dragging a flour-covered hand on your cheek. How he got that close to the pack of flour you own, you don’t know. Making it the reason for the shocked look on your face.

Giggling to himself, he takes a bite of the stolen cookie. And just as he opens his mouth, you cupped his face with some flour of your own, making him stare at you with wide eyes. 

Since chaos has now started, the viewers would never know what the cookie tasted like because all they were seeing now was flour, flour, and more flour being thrown at each other as well as the joyous laughter that has filled the kitchen before the live had ended a few minutes after.

April 2020

Having a friend who owns a pool at their house is great, and being close to their house is even better. This explains the series of stories that Ana had labelled as intruders in her home, which consisted of you and Pedro.

Intruders really aren’t what you want her to call you two, but maybe a couple of friends who wanted to celebrate Pedro’s birthday with someone else other than the two of you in your penthouse back in the city.

Without more explanation, Ana posted a couple of short clips of your day’s stay at her place. The first one is a long and noisy one. 

Music was heard as soon as the video started, Ana, who was recording, was heard laughing as she zooms in on you dancing in the pool, wearing your favourite bikini. Pedro however was seated in the hanging chair near the pool, also having a good laugh as he records your antics as well.

Zooming in she calls out your name as you raised to sway your arms. “Y/n!! Mira aquí por favor,” she laughs when you turned to head at her dramatically. Gasping when you saw that she was also recording your dancing.

“¡¡Me dijiste que no grabarías estas cosas, traidor!!” gasping as you sank in the pool, reappearing after a few seconds to get up and out of the pool. You told me you wouldn't record these things, you traitor!!

“Eres demasiado linda para no hacerlo.” Ana explains herself but was cut off when you threw your drenched self over her making her screech. Pedro’s laugh was heard in the background. It stopped though as soon as you quickly went and jumped on to him also getting him wet in the process. You’re too pretty not to.

Ana, who was entertained, zoomed in on the two of you. Your arms were around his neck while he tried his hardest to push you away from him, still not in the mood to get wet.

His pleads for you to stop were drowned out by the laughs of the two females he was with.

The second video is a rare thing for people on the internet. Well, that’s what they say. PDA isn’t really a thing the two of you do, so a small kiss, hug, and hands intertwined were the only things they have seen so far. So when Ana posted this on the day of Pedro’s birthday as well as a tease to you, the fans can’t help but awe at the two of you.

Captioning the story with a “Happy Birthday, Pedrito” followed by a small “ah lovebirds” below. Ana who was at the other end of the pool, can only sit and watch as the sweet scene unfolds. It was basically the two of you clinging to each other exchanging smiles and sweet nothings as you leaned over the edge of the pool. 

Pedro was seen submerging into the water before shaking his head as he emerges, making you shriek as water splats on your face. You were about to say something but were pulled in by your partner. Staring at each other with smiles on your faces, you reached a hand up to tuck the now long-ish hair Pedro had, him doing the same as well as caressing both your cheeks.

As if Ana had sensed something would happen, she calls out Pedro’s name making the both of you whip your head in her direction. Clicking her tongue, she chuckles saying “Ay tortolitos,” making you wave and smile cheekily at her before resting your forehead on Pedro’s shoulder in embarrassment. Him also giving her a smile to hide his evident blush. Oh lovebirds

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal characters #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

[alotofpockets]

Moon | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Based on the song Moon by Reneé Rapp. Reader is having a hard time sleeping after a bad breakup with Wanda.

A/n: This is a repost from an old account.

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1K

Sleep didn’t come easy to you these days, you spend your nights either staring at your ceiling or outside of your window, your thoughts never ending. The lack of sleep caused by your breakup with Wanda was taking a toll on your mental health. Though, your days tend to be better than your nights, during the day you have enough distractions to not miss Wanda. However, the second you flipped the lights off and you’re in this room at night, that’s when your mind starts wondering, thinking back on the time you spent with her. Remembering all the happy memories that you shared, though of course that only made you miss her more.

It hurts that she’s somewhere out there still existing, while you feel like you don’t sometimes. You feel like a robot on autopilot trying to navigate through the week. You get up in the morning, go to work, get home, eat, go to bed, and do it all over the next day. Nothing more than a step by step routine, a mindless cycle, to survive.

It had been incredibly hard to try and not care about Wanda, when all you wanted to do was convince her to stay. In your mind you knew that was never going to happen though, she had made that very clear. Not to say the breakup was all Wanda’s fault though. You had hoped for Wanda to see your point, to fight for what you had, but you ended up having different views. Talking about those differences had ended up in a much different way than you had imagined. 

Wanda had come back injured from yet another mission, it broke you to see her hurt, especially because it happened over and over again. She would come back home with cuts, bruises and broken bones, mission after mission. It was getting bad to the point that you just had to share your thoughts on the matter.

“Darling, you’re hurt again, that is like the third time this month. You have to be more careful.” You said sharing your concerns. In hindsight bringing this conversation up right after she came back from an exhausting mission wasn’t the best timing, but there was no turning that back around. “I can’t very well put my safety first when I am trying to help people, y/n.” Wanda replied in annoyance. “When I am saving lives, I have to put their lives in front of my own, that’s kind of in the job description.” - “I know it’s a part of the job, it’s just that I am trying to plan a future with you but each time you’re on a mission I am afraid that you won’t come back to me, and that scares me. I know how important being an Avenger is to you. How important it is to right the wrongs from your past, but at what point will saving lives and putting your own in danger make it even?” You’re getting frustrated, as all these emotions have been piled up over the past couple of months. You should’ve communicated feeling this way sooner, you realize that now, maybe then you would still be able to fix this.

“If you know how important this is to me, you wouldn’t ask me to give it up.” You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m just.. I guess I’m just asking if you can work in the field less. You can be an Avenger in many ways, training or less invasive missions for example. All I’m asking is for you to prioritize our future a bit more.” Wanda was clearly not agreeing with you as she replied back to you with, “That certainly could be a possibility for some people, but not for me. I am not going to change what I love doing the most in this world for an outcome that is up to fate anyways. I’m not giving up on the one thing that makes me feel the slightest bit okay with what I did in my past, not just because you’re scared that I might not make it. I can handle myself just fine and why don’t you just work on being less worried?” 

The tears you had been holding in were now rolling down your cheeks. “I can’t, Wanda. I can’t go on like this anymore. I can’t keep thinking you are going to die everytime you go out on a mission. I can’t, I can’t do this. If you don’t want to try for us, I think this is it.” 

That was the last time you had seen Wanda in person. Wanda didn’t want to fight for your future together, and you couldn’t keep going without any change. So, that’s how your three year relationship ended. A part of you understood that it wasn’t fair of you to ask her to step down, as you knew how important being an Avenger was to her, but the bigger part of you still stood behind your own needs. It would have happened over time anyways but you couldn't imagine staying happy in a relationship where you’re constantly worried about if they’re going to come back to you alive, especially because she had no interest in being safer and more caring about her own life, in any way, shape or form.

The conversation of that night plays over and over in your head, while you’re laying in bed looking out of the window. The moon shines bright and you wonder if Wanda is having trouble sleeping too, is she looking at the moon, just as you are? The night skies stare back at you as in the stars, you can see her eyes. The only place left for you and her to exist. 

As the light reflecting off the moon casts streaks of light onto your face, your last thought before closing your eyes was you wondering, when we’re looking at the same moon, do you miss me too?

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#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maxmoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel #wanda mcu

[growingstories]

Enrico

Enrico, a very handsome Spanish chef, stood tall and broad at 6 feet in height. At 39 years old, he exuded confidence and charm. Enrico had a love for life, evident in his glowing smile and twinkling eyes. He possessed an amazing chest and broad shoulders, but also sported a bit of a belly, evidence of his culinary indulgences. Despite this, Enrico was content with his appearance and embraced his curves. He ran a successful restaurant in the popular coastal city of Marbella, where he knew everyone and was well-respected in the culinary world. Married with three children, Enrico cherished his family life but occasionally slept around, seeking excitement and adventure in brief encounters. His wife was unaware of his infidelities, or so he thought.

Enrico's life took an unexpected turn when his wife discovered his secret affairs. Driven by hurt and betrayal, she demanded a divorce. In the settlement, Enrico faced a significant financial payout to his ex-wife. Determined to reinvent himself, Enrico vowed to make a change as he approached his 40th birthday. He decided to dive headfirst into fitness and joined a gym.

As Enrico committed himself to his newfound fitness routine, he gradually regained his young and sculpted physique. He even managed to achieve six-pack abs once again. With his irresistible charm intensified by his new body, Enrico found himself being pursued by numerous admirers. Every night, he had a different woman in his bed, embracing the life of pleasure and luxury. His restaurant business also flourished, bringing in money like water.

One fateful evening, whilst under the influence of alcohol, Enrico encountered a vivacious young woman named Julia. Intrigued by her magnetic energy, Enrico was surprised when she expressed her desire to involve her gay friend, Gio, in their encounter. With curiosity and an open mind, Enrico participated in a thrilling threesome with Julia and Gio. The experience awakened desires and emotions within him that he had never felt a connection he shared with Gio during this encounter sparked something special. Gio, a 25-year-old wealthy individual living in his parents' holiday home, became the object of Enrico's affections, and soon they began dating, even incorporating threesomes into their relationship.

As their love blossomed, Gio and Enrico started spending more time together. Gio would often visit Enrico's restaurant, bringing along his rich friends and celebrities, leading to a booming business. However, their relationship remained a secret among the staff. Gio would always be the last guest, and Enrico found solace in hanging out and drinking at Gio's table. The staff made sure Enrico's glass was never empty. Late-night Burger King visits, nightclubs, and midnight snacks at Gio's place became a part of their routine. With time, Enrico began to lose control of his eating habits and regained all the weight he had lost.

Gio's desire for Enrico to come out intensified, but Enrico's fear held him back, leading to frustration and further indulgence. He started eating more to cope with his emotions and the stress of potential discovery of him being gay. Enrico found comfort in food, gorging himself on a variety of treats. He would stress eat throughout the day, indulging during staff dinners, enjoying bites and snacks with guests and Gio, and even continuing to eat after his shifts ended. The weight began to explode onto his frame, resulting in a massive belly.

Gio made the difficult decision to break up with Enrico, longing for someone who could be open about their love. Heartbroken, Enrico spiraled into a cycle of self-destructive behavior. For weeks, he stayed in bed, eating buckets of ice cream, chocolate, and cake. His weight skyrocketed, and his excessive eating began to take a toll on his body, making it difficult for him to work.

After hitting rock bottom, Enrico made an important decision - to come out and openly declare his love for Gio. Determined to make their relationship work, Gio decided to give Enrico another chance. They entered into a proper, loving relationship. Five years later, Enrico and Gio continued to enjoy life together. They embarked on amazing trips and indulged in thrilling nights out, all while sharing an intimate and passionate connection. Gio took special care to ensure Enrico was satisfied and fulfilled in every aspect of their relationship, including his physical desires. Enrico grew even larger, his presence on Marbella's beaches causing gossip and intrigue among onlookers. However, Enrico didn't care about public opinions. He relished in his success, happiness, and his hot, loving boyfriend by his side. No one and nothing could stop them from thriving, and Enrico only grew fatter, embracing his new sense of self.

Time passed and Enrico's love for food and indulgence only grew stronger. He found comfort in his expanding waistline, reveling in the way his shirts strained against his bulging belly. He no longer had any desire to go to the gym or maintain his once-fit physique.

Gio, who had a deep admiration for Enrico's newfound size, embraced his partner's love for food. He would cook extravagant meals for Enrico, ensuring that every craving was satisfied. The couple would spend lazy afternoons in bed, surrounded by empty bags of chips and trays of pastries, indulging in their mutual love for gluttony.

Enrico's restaurant continued to thrive, not only due to the delicious cuisine but also because of his newfound reputation as the "largest chef in Marbella." People would flock to the restaurant just to catch a glimpse of Enrico's massive form, marveling at the way he would waddle from table to table, his round belly preceding him.

Despite the occasional judgment and whispers from others, Enrico and Gio were content. They had found love and acceptance within each other's arms, as well as a shared passion for food and pleasure. Enrico had no intentions of slowing down or losing weight; he had found his true happiness in being a larger-than-life figure, both literally and figuratively.

Together, Gio and Enrico continued to explore the world, enjoying lavish vacations and luxurious meals. Enrico's appetite knew no bounds, and he indul in everyged culinary delight that came his way. He wore his size with pride, not caring about societal standards or the opinions of others.

As the years went by, Enrico's girth expanded further, his belly reaching colossal proportions. He had become a symbol of indulgence and excess, a living testament to the fact that happiness could be found in embracing one's desires, no matter how unconventional they may seem.

Enrico knew he would forever be the handsome Spanish chef with an insatiable appetite. He had found his true self, his true love, and his true happiness. And as he continued to grow, both in his relationship with Gio and physically, he knew that nothing could dim fire the that burned within him.

And so, the story of Enrico, the very handsome Spanish chef, continued unabated. He lived a life of pleasure, satisfaction, and gluttony, unapologetically embracing his larger-than-life existence. For Enrico, there was no such thing as too much, and he relished in the knowledge that he had found his own version of perfection in his ever-expanding figure.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction #exjock #aiweightgain

[d-romanov]

float around and ghost my friends

[title- phoebe bridgers. natasha romanoff x teen!reader, minimal platonic peter x reader]

2.5k words

You didn’t have a normal childhood, but you mama encourages you to have a normal highschool experience and lets you go to a party. It doesn’t quite go how she wanted, or how you expected.

trigger warnings: underage drinking + drinking to cope, suicidal ideation?, depression, it’s sad ngl but it’s got a hopeful ending (probably)

Living your life after a childhood of pain and misery is hard, it is so, so hard. You wonder if the man across the street is just a stranger or someone there to take you back, if the light flickering meant someone had found you, if the loud noise down the hall was a body against a wall. God, if you started thinking too hard about it you wouldn’t stop.

Thank god high school would only make it worse!

Growing up as a Hydra lab rat they still had to keep you occupied, lest you go catatonic and ruin their tests. You saw plenty of shows and movies about high school, about how important the dance next saturday was, when everyone’s classes were, the like. You understood, to an extent, that parties were a big deal. Parents went out of town, kids got shitfaced, snuck back into bed past “curfew.” fun times.

It’s been a little over a year since you were found by the Avangers, and just a few months since Natasha Romanoff finalized the adoption paperwork for you. Even if you couldn’t call her mom as much as you wanted to you were happy, truly content for the first time in your life. You had friends, family, and a mother who wanted nothing more than for you to enjoy your new life.

Which is why, when peter had invited you to a party being put on by someone in his class, your mom urged you to go.

—

You haven’t been sleeping much in the last few weeks. Insomnia and trauma-induced nightmares were taking their toll on you, but you could handle a bit of sleep deprivation. Besides, you weren’t about to concern Natasha more, she’s had enough on her plate lately.

No, no matter how long you stayed awake shaking, shivering, not breathing waiting for a sound in the hallway, you wouldn’t bother Natasha. Though, that didn’t stop you from being a bit more clingy during the day before calling it a night.

“It’s an opportunity for you to have fun outside the tower, детка, you should go.” You sat cross-legged on Natasha’s bed, watching as she put away laundry. It was calming. “I’m only a call away if you and Peter wanna ditch, but I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Her encouragement throws you off. “You know what happens at those parties though, don’t you?” You shift so you’re laying down against the pillows, “Shouldn’t you be making me stay home?”

Natasha laughs. “Hon, highschool parties aren’t nearly as crazy as movies make them out to be, and i know you. It’s not like you’re going to get wasted or make out with any boys.” You pull a face and Natasha laughs again, and you laugh with her.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” She presses a kiss to your forehead and you smile up at her.

“I’ll go.”

—

You’re already regretting it, and you’ve only been in the house for 20 minutes. Peter don’t ditch you per se, but you haven’t seen him since you settled on the couch. The music pulses through the floor and you can feel the bass in your teeth. You’re pressed in at the far end of the couch hugging the armrest, clutching a soda can in one hand and hovering over Natasha’s contact in you phone with the other. A bark of laughter from the kitchen throws you out of your thoughts and you notice someone pouring out shots. somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder when the last time you had a drink was, to which your brain unhelpfully answers “too long.”

Aside from anesthesia, the best pain relief you had in your old life was alcohol. You understood that it wasn’t healthy, even back then you knew that, but it kept your thoughts from racing and helped you sleep at night.

A small crowd was formed around the kitchen counter, and you watch as two boys get locked into a fierce competition of Cup Pong.

You watch one of them, a lean, blonde boy from the soccer team, fading fast. only two of his cups have been emptied, he’s clearly a lightweight and already wobbling by his third shot. The other boy is one you recognize from your history class. he’s loud, obnoxious, and goading on the other boy who’s finally thrown the ping pong ball properly and landed it in a cup.

The loud one sinks in another two balls, and you see the blond visibly swallow. you don’t know what comes over you because in the next moment, you down his two shots in one go.

“Woah-hoh-hoh! looks like someone’s up to the challenge!” His face breaks into a shit eating grin, “Too bad you picked a battle with the undefeated champ here.” you hear a few whistles in the growing crowd and smirk, You can feel the buzz hitting your head and it feels good, you feel good for the first time in days.

“Undefeated, huh? Well, this is gonna be really embarrassing for you then.” You’re cocky, but you don’t care, you just wanna get drunk.

He quickly bounces another ball, landing in your forward cup, the second misses. Your two land and it’s a battle keeping your face straight. Your opponent is intimidated, but he hides it behind a grin and his height, but he’s too obvious. You know he’ll hit his limit far sooner than you’ll hit yours, so you tease him a bit.

To throw him off, you miss your next two throws, and his second lands. as soon as the cup is empty you begin to sway. you’re in no drunken state, there’s barely a buzz at this point, but he doesn’t know that. As far as he knows, you’re just as much of a lightweight as the blond before you.

He’s hiding his own swaying body by leaning forward on the counter, but you can see in his eyes he’s getting drunk, and thanks to the alcohol of choice being vodka, it won’t be much longer before he’s out. You were hoping for a bit more fun, but his head start in the is game threw that off a bit. You strike fast. Two balls, two cups, one throw, it’s impressive to the crowd but for you it’s child’s play. He down the cups, slower than before, and you can see sweat forming on his forehead.

He misses his next throw and you can’t stop yourself from being a bit disappointed. then again, you only have one cup left versus his, you huff a laugh.

“I mean, it’s a little unfair of me to be beating you. You had a head start in the game, why don’t we level it out?”

The crowd is rowdy and you see his face twist into a grimace. He’s getting agitated while you’re loosening up, happily putting on a show for everyone around you.

You pour yourself two more shots and take the one after the other. You revel in the burn, you feel lighter, higher, ready to put this stupid kid in his place.

—

You win that game, you win two more games, and everything becomes a blur. You think your phone buzzes a few times through the night but you ignore it in favor of pouring yourself another drink and laughing your ass off. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt normal, and even if you don’t know anyone’s names they’re funny enough, and you can forget about the past for the night.

You’re not noticeable in school, you hide yourself in the back of the class and only talk to peter and his friends. You’re allowed to leave class whenever you need to thanks to a plan you’re mom had set up with the school, so it’s not like you usually stick around enough to talk to anyone. You’re just some new kid lost in the crowd there, but now, here, people are talking to your face instead of whispering behind your back and avoiding eye contact. you finally feel free.

You get up and unsteadily return to the kitchen for another shitty bear. You look over your shoulder and throw your hands out. “Peter!!” you shout, ending in a giggle when you see his face, he’s looking at you funny. “hiiiii!!”

“Are you drunk??” Oh never mind, he sounds mad.

“Nooo?” You giggle again, he doesn’t believe you but you don’t really care.

Peter rubs his hand down his face and starts to guide you to the door.

“Where’re we going i was having funnnn,” You whine, pushing against his insistence you leave.

“(Y/n) i already called natasha, now drink this and sit tight.” He’s frustrated and hands you a water bottle, you pout and plop onto the grass, lazily sipping at the bottle.

You’re not sure how much later it happens, but Natasha’s car pulls up on the curb. She steps out and she looks pissed, if you had any energy left you’d probably be scared. “Hi мама,” even drunk and half asleep you still know you sound like a pathetic mess, and right now you really just want to catch up on all the sleep you’ve missed.

She kneels down next to you on the grass and moves your sweaty hair from your forehead, you notice her face soften. “Hi малышка, let’s get you home.”

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out. Your voice is small, and you don’t mean to sound so weak but the alcohol in your system makes you feel vulnerable. “I don’ want you to be mad at me i was jus’ so tired.”

“No hun, i’m not mad. We’ll talk in the morning when you’ve sobered up, now up you get.”

If you weren’t so out of it you would’ve seen the heartbreak cross her face.

She hoists you up with your arm over her shoulder, and you’re grateful for it because without her you’d have fallen face first into the dirt.

You hear her ask Peter to open the door, and as soon as you’re in the car you’re out like a light.

—

Anyone could tell from a mile away that Natasha loved you. Since the day you were found she’d always cared and wanted the best for you. You were the child she’d always wanted, and she’d do anything for you. And anyone could tell that seeing her kid so small, so sad, was breaking her heart.

Peter’s phone call had been confusing, something about you getting too competitive to think straight and then too drunk to stand. She’d shown up expecting a slightly drunk teenager, not you. Not you sitting in the grass, on the curb, nursing a water bottle and looking so utterly defeated. She didn’t know what to do, she just wanted to take all your pain away.

Getting you home was the easy part. Apparently, getting you out of the party had also sucked all of your energy, and you were cooperative getting in the car, hell you were asleep as soon as the door shut. Natasha dropped Peter off at home before returning to the tower, after getting some context to the situation of course. Now it was time to get you to bed, and figure out her next steps.

—

“Mmmn?” You can barely open your eyes, everything just feels so heavy and faraway. Behind squinted eyes you recognize that it’s Natasha pulling you from the car.

“Come on sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

Your short nap didn’t help you much. “‘M tired,” You croak out, cringing at the taste of your dry mouth.

“I know you are bub,” She pull one of your arms over her shoulders and leads you through the tower’s garage to the elevator. “That’s why we’re gonna get you cleaned up in into bed.”

Your response isn’t more than an affirmative grunt, but you can get the words past your throat.

Eventually, after a blur of motion and lights and almost getting sick on the way up, you’re in your room. You don’t want to be in here.

Natasha guides you to your bed, keeping you steady as you sit down. Before she can pull away your hands grip her shoulders like a vice.

You don’t even realize you’re crying. “Don’- Мама don’t leave. Please don’t leave.” You don’t want to be alone. You just want to sleep but you can’t sleep because when you sleep your mind attacks and attacks and attacks and you can’t keep dealing with this forever you’re so tired.

“Hey hey, no i’m not going anywhere детка. Im not leaving, but i need you to breathe, please.” You can’t stop yourself from closing your eyes. You hate the way she’s looking at you, she looks so sad and you’re the one doing this. God look at you, look how pathetic you’ve become.

“I ju- I just wanted everything to stop. i wanted to be normal in sorry. i’m sorry мама i’m sorry i’m just tired i’m sorry.” The words get caught in your throat and choked out in a sob. You try to pull back, hide in you pillows and shut out everything, but natasha’s returned grip is solid and fierce, yet gentle, and kind, and she pulls you into her chest as you fight every cry that bubbles up.

“Let it out малышка, don’t fight it. It’s okay, i’ve got you. I’ve got you, love.” Her hold on you grows tighter and you can almost feel your chest open just from her words. No matter how much you were taught and built against it from birth, Natasha was your lifeline.

Minutes or hours later, you’re cries turn to whimper and the bone-deep exhaustion makes itself known again. Your arms feel so heavy, you can barely keep your puffy eyes open and you just want to sleep for the next month.

“Hey,” Natasha says it so softly she’s worried you’ll miss it, but she doesn’t want to startle you. “Let’s get you changed. I’m just gonna grab you some pajamas, okay?”

You must’ve nodded, because natasha moves and you faintly hear your dresser draws move. You’re half asleep as natasha helps you change into comfier clothes, you’re eyes aren’t even open once she’s tucked you and herself into bed and holds your head to her chest.

“I love you so, so much малышка. Got to sleep, okay? I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Your answer is a whisper “I love you, мама.”

You’re out like a light, you limbs heavy and mind blissfully quiet. Natasha hardly sleeps, thinking only about you and the conversation you need to have.

——

part 2!!!

#mama nat #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x daughter!reader #natasha x teen reader #peter parker x platonic reader #my writing

[goldenempyrean]

Nature Takes It's Toll

〚 Prompt - "You're like a human heating pad. I love it."  〛

〚 Pairing - Natasha x Reader 〛

〚 Wordcount - 690 〛

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╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Both Natasha and yourself had eagerly anticipated your upcoming camping trip for weeks. As both of you were leading hectic lives, you were yearning for some much-needed respite from the daily grind. You were excited to escape into the great outdoors, to immerse yourself in the tranquillity of nature, and to reconnect with each other. 

The trip got off to a fantastic start, with invigorating hikes and rejuvenating walks amidst the breath taking scenery. You both marvelled at the majestic mountains, the crystal-clear streams, and the vibrant flora and fauna. You savoured the simple pleasures of roasting marshmallows over the campfire, savouring hearty meals, and gazing up at the twinkling constellations above. 

However, on the third day of the trip, things took an unexpected turn. Nat woke up with a surprisingly sore throat and the beginnings of a headache settling behind her eyes. At first, Nat tried to brush it off, thinking it was just allergies. 

But as the day progressed, she started to feel increasingly worse. Her throat was on fire, and her body ached all over. She had to take breaks during the hikes, which frustrated her as she prided herself on her stamina. 

By the evening, Nat's temperature had spiked, and she was shivering despite the layers of blankets wrapped around her. She couldn't even keep down the soup you had made for her. You were worried sick, but tried to remain calm and composed for Nat's sake and so you wrapped her up in her sleeping bag and nestled down beside her. 

"Hh’itshhiew!" Nat sneezed into her elbow, and you reached over to offer her a tissue from your bag. Her nose was red and raw, and her eyes were puffy and watery. She really did look miserable. 

"Sorry," she croaked, her voice hoarse. "I think I'm getting sick.” 

“Sorry baby, I think we both know you’re past the ‘getting sick’ phase. You sound awful.” You murmured sympathetically, “Do you think we should cut this trip short? You sound like you need to be in a warm bed, not shivering in your sleeping bag.” 

“I don’t want your trip to be ruined just because I’m a little sick, and I-“ She paused, scrunching up her nose as it itched sharply before sending her bobbing forward, "Ha'tschiii! Ugh, s’cuse me." Nat sniffled and asked for another tissue as you blessed you softly. 

You decision to cut your trip short was only further cemented when Nat couldn’t stop shivering, she’d even cuddles into your own sleeping bag, feverishly mumbling, “You’re like a human pad, I love it.” 

So, with a heavy heart, you decided that she needed to go home. She definitely wasn’t getting any better just laying here.  

You quickly packed up your campsite, trying to be as efficient as possible while still taking care of Nat. You could see the disappointment in her eyes, but she didn't protest. She knew she was in no condition to continue the trip. 

You helped Nat into the car, wrapping her up in blankets and turning up the heat. She was shivering so badly, and her forehead was burning up. You knew you needed to get her home and into bed as soon as possible. 

The drive back was quiet, except for the occasional cough or sneeze from Nat. You kept a close eye on her, and as you drove, you could feel your own throat starting to tickle. 

Once you finally made it back home, you immediately helped Nat inside and settled her into bed. You made her some tea with honey, which seemed to soothe her sore throat a bit but she didn’t manage to drink much before the soft scents and soothing taste lulled her tired body back to sleep. You smiled hearing her gentle snores and tucked her up, kissing her forehead lightly as you settled in beside her.  

The two of you had planned to spend the rest of the week out in the woods and while you were a little disappointed about your trip being cut so short, at least you had plenty of time to look after her. 

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[mounts89]

card sharks, playing games

Part 2: Fear is the nightmare I had you were with someone else you forgot about me

Pairing: Mason Mount x fem!reader

Word count: 3.4 k

Part 2: Fear is the nightmare I had you were with someone else you forgot about me

Summary: Mason x reader play a dangerous game of cat and mouse, each trying to outmaneuver the other. Moving with the grace of dancers, your steps are calculated and precise as you circle around each other, playing mind games and testing your limits. Getting lost in the game, unable to resist the pull of each other.

Note: Back with part 2... If you're interested in this story, ily.

Part 1 can be found here

This series will contain fluff, angst, and potentially smut (depending on how I feel about writing it for the first time).

Part 2: Fear is the nightmare I had you were with someone else you forgot about me

You could lie to yourself. You could disguise your narcissism as some kind of altruism. You could tell yourself that the apparent indifference you wanted to lead on with Mason was as much to protect yourself as it was to protect him.

But you know this wasn’t the case. 

The impending, and inevitable, doom of your trip back home reminding you that you’re in no position to entertain his advances. 

When you arrive home at 4 am, Mabel and you exchange a wordless agreement to head straight to bed without discussing your respective nights, for now at least. You knew that once she saw you sober, however, her relentless interrogation would commence. 

Mabel was by nature a curious and inquisitive person, especially when it came to her friends’ love lives. So, you’re surprised when she doesn’t pester you with questions about your endeavours with Mason, knowing she won’t see you for a while. 

As you had later found out, however, she had simply forgotten that you were leaving the city the very next morning.

However, you’re grateful that she had overlooked that detail in the midst of late-night fatigue. You’re grateful that the conversation can be delayed until you come back to London.

Enough time to gather your thoughts and plan out your next move. 

You head straight to bed, not bothering to take off your makeup and changing into the oversized tee you can find. 

Before closing your eyes, you open your instagram to see if you had a follow request or DM from Mason. 

But you didn’t. 

Sure, you had never given him your last name or expected him to follow you, but that wasn’t an excuse for his lack of effort. He could have easily found you through Ben’s following list, for instance. 

Who, unlike him, had bothered to ask for your socials at one point during the night that you had managed to escape Mason’s tight grip on you. 

You couldn’t help but think that if he truly wanted to kiss you, as much as he had led on, he would have found you. Planned out his next move.

 ◌                             ◌                                       ◌           

                                            ‧₊ *:･ﾟ彡       ◌                 ☽︎       ◌

            ◌                                 ✩彡 ･ﾟ *:                                     

                                ◌                                        ◌

After just over a week later, you find yourself back in London. 

The Christmas break, though disappointingly short, had provided a welcome respite that allowed you to spend quality time with family and friends back home. Although you lived a short train ride away from your hometown, you didn’t go back as often as you’d liked. You had tried for the first few years of uni to visit every other week, at least. However, the demands of academia, along with your part time job at your local bar, were draining, sometimes grueling, and often downright exhausting. 

This constant juggling act took a toll on you, and it was a reason you broke up with your ex, Luka. Who, against your better judgment, you had seen often during your visit. 

Sure, it was immature to return to him, but it was also safe. Being with him was bittersweet, nostalgic, and familiar. Being with him and revisiting old memories was easy. 

In contrast, ‘things’ with Mason (if you could even call it that) were anything but easy. Surely, it was only the alcohol speaking that night, and he hadn’t meant any of the things he had said to you. 

Even when you had tried to distract yourself with Luka’s, when his skin was under yours, Mason had occupied the better half of your thoughts. And that’s putting it conservatively. You spent the whole week racking your brain, trying to figure out why he hadn’t as much as tried to contact you. You wondered if, when he’s on his third glass of whiskey,  it sounded like desire telling him you missed him. 

According to a few texts you got from Mabel that week, he had asked about you the times they had seen each other at Ben’s. You weren’t sure if she had said that because she knew, without you even telling her, how much of an imprint he had made on you, or if it was actually true. Yet if it was true, he had never bothered to reach out to you directly. You found this cowardly, to be frank. He could have easily asked her for your number, but he didn’t. 

You hadn’t yet disclosed the details of your night with Mason or your brief reunion with Luka to her, though you suspected that she knew about the latter from what you had posted on your close friends’ stories. 

It’s past 6:40 pm when you hear Mabel and Ben walk through the door of your shared flat while you’re scrolling through Netflix. 

As soon as she catches sight of you sitting on the couch, she squeals with excitement and rushes over to embrace you in a warm hug. 

“I’ve missed you soo much!” she exclaims. 

“I’ve missed you too, what have you been up to?” 

“Same old, same old,” she replies with a shrug, gesturing towards Ben. “Just hanging out wit him, going to work.”

He flashes a friendly smile at the two of you before returning his attention to his phone. 

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about a certain talk we need to have,” she whispers in your ear. 

“I have to go, but I’ll swing by and pick you both up around 10?” Ben announces, leaning in to kiss Mabel’s cheek before giving you a friendly wave and walking out.

“What does he mean by that?” you ask.

“We’re going out with him and some of his friends for New Year’s,” she explains, “it’ll be fun, so don’t try to fight it. And yes he’ll be there, so dress slutty.”

She turns on her speaker before putting on her “Getting ready” playlist and pours two glasses of wine,before she finally speaks up again.

“So spill it,” she says passing you a glass. “What happened between the two of you?”

She wasn’t dumb, she left the question ambiguous on purpose. 

“Mason or Luka?” you ask quietly, your voice low with embarrassment as you finally admit that you’ve seen your ex.

She rolls her eyes. “Let’s start with Mason. But we’ll talk about the other one later,” she adds, knowing all too welo how this usually goes.

At this point, she didn’t bother giving you lectures when you left London. She knew that it always lead to him in your hometown. 

You sigh. “With Mase… Honestly, not much,” you admit. “We just talked all night. He told me about his family, told me some of his dreams for the future.”

She raises an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“Yeah pretty much,” you confirm. 

But you don’t tell her about the way his words made you feel. You don’t tell her about the way his words flowed like honey, and how carefully chosen and crafted they felt. You don’t tell her about the way he made you feel like the only person in the room, or about the fact that he told you that he had “never met someone as beautiful or fun as you.” You don’t tell her about the way that you had almost believed him.

You don’t tell her about the way you had teased him all night, purposefully batting your eyelashes at him and making suggestive comments everytime he took a sip of his drink. You don’t tell her about the way he’s hanging on to every syllable you say. You don’t tell her about the way your defenses almost melted away. Almost. 

You also don’t tell her that for every sweet lie he told you, you told him three. 

“I mean,” you add, feeling like you need to defend yourself, “we didn’t even kiss. So I don’t even think he’s interested.” 

You weren’t lying, maybe omitting part of the story, but not blatantly lying.

She just nods, unconvincingly. 

◌                             ◌                                       ◌           

                                            ‧₊ *:･ﾟ彡       ◌                 ☽︎       ◌

            ◌                                 ✩彡 ･ﾟ *:                                     

                                ◌                                        ◌

As you’re finishing getting ready in your room, Mabel bursts in, telling you that Ben had finally arrived. You sneak a peak at yourself in the mirror, liking the way the black dress you’ve chosen clings onto your every curve, applying a bold red lipstick, one you never felt confident enough to wear. Something about thinking of the game you’re about to play with Mason, giving you that boost of confidence. 

It’s like playing chess. You enjoy the thrill of carefully planning each move and anticipating his next one. A battle of wits and strategy, where you try and stay one step ahead of him, and analyze his potential move. 

Before leaving, you reach for his sunglasses. The ones he had left you with the last time you were together. 

◌                             ◌                                       ◌           

                                            ‧₊ *:･ﾟ彡       ◌                 ☽︎       ◌

            ◌                                 ✩彡 ･ﾟ *:                                     

                                ◌                                        ◌

When you finally get to the club, you walk into the VIP area and see some of the familiar faces from last time.

You exchange brief greetings with everyone, but can’t help feeling disappointed when Mason barely acknowledges you with a nod. Your heart sinks. You have even planned out a whole thing where you’d give him his sunglasses back - in exchange for a secret. But he’s not interested in you that night. 

Unlike his tough exterior, you’re a mess when you see him. You immediately smile at him, admiring how incredibly good he looks in his black jeans and white shirt. Yet he barely even looks at you. Seemingly more interested in the girl talking to him to his right. 

You’re dumbfounded. You had played out countless scenarios of how seeing him again would play out, and none of them included him acting like a stranger. You had planned out your moves, anticipating what his would be tonight. But this one caught you off guard. All the strategies you had in mind for the night suddenly seem useless, and a wave of fear washes over you as you think about your nightmare scenario playing out in front of you. 

The one in which he was with someone else he had forgotten about you

You try not to let it get to you. You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s just busy catching up with friends, it’s fine, you try to tell yourself. 

However, your fear is intensified when you see him dancing, dangerously close, with yet another girl. It seemed that he was interested in anyone and everyone but you. All while you sat and stared, sitting in the booth all alone. Mabel had offered to stay with you, but you had urged her to have fun. You wouldn’t let your mood ruin her night, too. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as someone sits beside. You must look miserable right now, so you’re surprised when you hear an distinctly American voice say,  “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Christian.” You take a look at him. He’s cute, tall, and has nice eyes. But he’s not your type. 

Still, you decide that you won’t let this night go to waste, and you might as well entertain his company. 

He seems like a nice guy, and you don’t want to be rude. You introduce yourself and engage in meaningless small talk. You only have surface levels things in common, but his company is nice nonetheless. You even find yourself laughing at some of his jokes. Even if just for a while, you have someone to take your mind off whatever sick game Mason was playing. 

“Do you want to dance,” Christian asks you after he had gotten you a drink. 

You hesitate for a moment, but you decide to go for it anyway. You follow him to the dance floor, letting yourself get lost in the moment. 

You don’t notice that you were standing directly beside Mason and whoever, a different girl from the one you had seen him with minutes ago, was. 

As much as you try to forget about Mason’s cold attitude towards you, being this close to him, was obviously not helping. You dare to glance up at him for the first time since you’d walked into the club, and you notice he’s already staring at you, shooting daggers with his eyes. 

It’s as if he’s silently challenging you, daring you to continue dancing with Christian. You decide to play along and engage in an intense staring battle with him. The same way you felt the same heat between the two of you that you felt when you were sitting on his lap over a week ago. Except this time, he didn’t even need to physically hold you. 

So you move closer to Christian, your gaze never leaving Mason’s. He responds the same way, stepping closer to the girl he’s with and maintaining his unwavering stare. 

He’s enjoying this as much as you are. The song comes to an abrupt stop, as the DJ announces that there’s 10 minutes left until midnight, and you finally break eye contact. You smirk at each other, knowing that the battle is far from over. 

“You mind grabbing me another drink and meeting me at the booth?” you ask Christian. 

He happily nods before excusing himself. 

You walk back to the booth, engaging in pleasant small talk. Seemingly, everyone had made their way back in time for the countdown. Everyone except Mason.

You sit beside a gorgeous girl, who immediately introduces herself. 

“Hey, I’m Sophia. I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. So you were at Ben’s party right? I saw you getting cozy with Mason.”

“Oh, um, yeah. We were just getting to know each other, I guess.”

“And tonight, you’re with Christian…” you nod before she continues, “so are you seeing both of them or are you just having fun.” 

Her tone is curious and friendly, not judgemental or accusatory. 

“Oh no,” you laugh, “there’s nothing between me and Christian. Super nice guy, but just not my type.”

“I figured as much,” she interjects. 

“As for Mason, not really sure where we stand. We had a good time at Ben’s, but he hasn’t really shown much interested since then. I guess I’m just trying to have a good time tonight and not think too much about it.” You explain to her.

She nods, understandingly, “I’ve known him for a few years, I’ve never seen him be as publicly into a girl as he was with you.” 

You laugh, unsure about how to feel about the whole situation. 

“Seems plenty interested in those other girls tonight. Probably the drinks got to him, I suppose,” you say with uncertainty. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that yet. Anyway, I’m always down for more friends in London, though. So, if you even want to chat, put your number in,” she says as she hands you her phone before sending you a text with her name and a smiley face. 

Finally, Christian walks back to you and hands you the drink. He leans in to whisper in your ear, “So, my mates told me about you and Mase. I had a feeling anyway we weren’t that interested, but I for sure won’t try anything now.”

You give him an appreciative smile before he continues, “but if you’re trying to make him jealous. And I’m not judging you if you are, I’ve done the same before. He came up to me and said and-I-quote ‘what do you think you’re doing,’ so I think it’s working.”

“You know what would really sell it?” you tell him.

“Mhm?”

“If we go out onto the balcony for the countdown,” you answer, a mischievous smile playing on your smiles, looking up at him. 

He chuckles but agrees nonetheless, hand in yours as he leads you there. 

You try not to look back, but you’re almost certain Mason is watching you. 

Checkmate. 

As the countdown ends, you and Christian toast to the new year and he pulls you into a warm embrace. You feel happy in his arm, and you’re glad you don’t feel the guilt of leading him on you previously felt. 

After a few minutes of silence, as you’re looking out onto the city, Christian speaks up.

“So… what are you two playing at? You clearly like each other” he asks, referring to your relationship with Mason.

You take a deep breath and confess, “Honestly, I’m not sure if we do. Maybe we like the case. But I’m still kind of seeing my ex anyway, so it’s probably for the best if... I don’t know, don’t start anything serious, I guess.”

“Sounds dangerous, but I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

After spending the past twenty minutes getting to know Christian, you decide you’re going to call it a night. If you were honest with yourself, you had only agreed to come because you heard that Mason was going to be there. And you had grown bored at the lack of attention he was giving you. You shoot a text to Mabel quickly before saying a quick goodbye to everyone that was still in the booth.

"Leaving so early?" you hear Mason call behind you with a laugh.

You hadn’t even noticed he had followed you out. 

"Yeah, have a headache and I have to work in the afternoon tomorrow. Figured I should get some rest," you say him nonchalantly without looking back at him.

"Come on, I have a game tomorrow. I didn't drink, I'll drive you."

"No it's fine, I already ordered the uber."

"Don't be silly," he insists, "I'll take you."

You reluctantly accept, knowing you weren’t in the mood to put up a fight. 

He hands you his phone with the Maps app open and you quickly type your address.  

"So, what have you been up to?" he asks as you enter his car.

Hoping I'd see you again.

"Not much, enjoying my time off from uni. Spent Christmas back home with my family, you?"

"Spending time with my friends and family too. It's been nice." he flashes you a smile for the first time that night.

I know. I saw your Instagram.

A few minutes passed, only the light sound of his music playing in the silence. 

“You looked cozy with those girls on the dancefloor, did you make any of them your New Years kiss?” you finally broke the silence. 

“Not jealous are we, Y/N?” 

You don’t look back at him, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Nope, just curious…” you say as he pulls up to your flat. 

“I don’t kiss and tell.” 

Of course he’d say that.

“Plus, you looked like you were in great company too.”

“Not jealous are we, Mount?”

“I have no reason to be, now do I?”

Because you and I are not anything? Or because you know Christian is not actually a threat? You almost voice aloud. 

“Nope.”

Being this close to him, you forget about the night you spent ignoring each other. The electricity you felt the first time being ever-so-present in his car. You can’t help but feel the desire that’s been plaguing you for the past week. 

As you finally pull up to your building and his car comes to a halt.

“Have a good night, lover girl.” he places a kiss on your cheek. One that lasts longer than a friendly kiss should.

So before you walk out, something in you urges you to take the lead and do the thing you’ve both been wanting to do. Every drink you had had that night, sounding like desire, telling you that he had missed you. So before you can overthink, or before you overanalyze your next move for too long, you do it. You move your face towards his and close the gap between the two of you. His soft lips against yours overwhelming your senses, getting lost in the way his lips moved against yours. The rhythm of the kiss isn’t rushed, but it’s definitely needy.

You finally break apart, and he looks into your eyes, “By the way, your no-kissing theory. Total bullshit. That was totally better than whatever it was we did last time,” he tells you.

“Happy New Year, Mason,” you disappear.

If passion was a passing thing, and if lust was a short-lived fire, then you know you want to capitalize on this moment. 

#mason mount x reader #mason mount blurb #mason mount x y/n #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount #mm19 #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagines #mason x reader #mason mount imagine #cfc #chelsea fc #chelsea football club #footballer x reader #footballer fanfiction #footballer fanfic #chelsea #card sharks playing games #mounts89 #if you read this ily

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I take some of our dogs to the pound, or make my mom buy them shock collars?

CW: Animal Abuse Mention, Suicide Mention

I (nb24) live in a house with my mom, dad, little brother and 4 yappy dogs. Living in this house takes a severe toll on my mental health, but I'm generally left to my own devices and it's a stable environment. I do not have the finances to move out, the economy is in shambles.

My mom had accumulated two small and very loud dogs over the years. This already was a strain. Neither of these dogs are trained. They are never taken outside, only use the pad about half of the time, and one actively attacks and bites visitors. (They are so small that this doesn't cause severe injury.) I am autistic and am easily overstimulated by loud noises. So was my format partner, and the dogs were one of the contributing factors as to why they moved out (though not the primary one.)

Things only got worse after that. About a year ago, my mom brought home two more dogs without anyone's consent. She had apparently discussed the prospect of bringing home one to my dad exclusively, but not two. She said that they were the last two at the breeder and she didn't want to separate them.

One of these dogs turned out to be very anxious and barks nearly constantly. I tried voicing my concerns, telling my mom that the dog would be a problem and she should give it away. She insisted that it would settle in, and if it didn't, she'd consider my words. The dog has only gotten worse, and she moved the goal posts, refusing to get rid of the dog because it's bonded now.

This has had debilitating consequences. There have been weeks where I would be having a full meltdown every day. My headaches have gotten worse and are definitely affecting my work. Everyone else in the family hates this dog, and my dad has often threatened to abuse or kill it. My mom has been offering unethical solutions like debarking, which I've refused, but still will not give any of the dogs away.

At this point, I've reached my limit. I cannot continue to live like this. The noise has been frequently driving me to thoughts of SH or suicide.

From what I see, I have three options.

1. I can either underhandedly steal the two most problematic dogs (the new one and the one that bites people) and take them to the pound, where they will... hopefully... be adopted eventually. My mom is going through a lot of severe unrelated stress rn, so I'm afraid of the wrath I might receive and the repercussions this will have on her mental health.

2. I finally cave to the immoral options. The one that seems the least bad would be remote-controlled shock collars. I've already tried the humane ones that vibrate and they do not work.

... or 3. I don't do anything to the detriment of my mental health. This is their home and their pets. Maybe I can find a place to stay during the day so I'm not trapped here.

So... WIBTA if I carry out option 1 or 2? If anyone has any advice I'd love to hear it. Please help.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

[hunterssm00n]

Paranoia

Yandere! Sheriff OC

A little bit older / A black leather jacket / A bad reputation / Insatiable habits / He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe...

*cw include stalking, yandere behavior, abuse of authority, obsession, and dark themes* MDNI - 18+

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

It’s below twenty this morning; cold, but beautiful. The sun rising over the hills reflects off of the ice that covers nearly every surface outside. The light makes everything look like it’s sparkling- like the inside of a winter wonderland snow globe. Kelli, unlike most people who live around here, loves the winter, so this weather doesn’t bother her. Quite the opposite; she looks forward to this season every year. She thinks the snow is magical.

The snow is also all-telling.

Footprints are easily visible in the white flakes on the ground. You can see where someone has been, where they’ve stepped, if they’ve walked around your house, around your car, to your bedroom window to peer inside.

Maybe most people don’t think about it that way. Maybe most people aren’t paranoid like her. But then again, maybe most people don’t have a reason to be, like she does.

She notices the second set of tire tracks immediately, upon walking out her front door. She knows he’s been here; he’s here every night. During the night she thought she’d heard his vehicle outside; the low idle of the engine almost like comforting white noise in the background. She’d been too exhausted to really react- her new job quickly taking its toll on her daily life. Working in a warehouse makes her ready for bed by eight thirty every night like an old lady, and once she’s asleep she sleeps like a rock. But the thought had been in the back of her mind nonetheless: He’s here. He’s watching.

Kelli checks, and the double check the lock on my front door, turning the door handle about ten times before she’s comfortable walking down the steps towards her car. The second thing she notices is the footprints. She sees them leading from the tire tracks to her front steps, pausing there, and then walking sharply to the left. She knows if she looks at them more closely, and follows their trail, that they’ll lead to every window, pausing there as well. And the back door. And the basement window. If she looks extra closely, she may even see gloved handprints on the window sills, gently having rested there the night before, mere hours ago. The thought gives her shivers, and it isn’t from the cold. She walks quickly towards her car, paying close attention to her surroundings all the while. The thought that he may still be here somewhere, watching, always watching, makes her spine tingle and the hair on the back of her neck raise.

She doesn’t know exactly how this started; what she did to capture his attention. And, evidently, his obsession. She goes to work, the store, the coffee shop, and barely anywhere else. Most of the time she hides away in her little house, the only place she feels like she can truly breathe a sigh of relief. But somehow she's piqued his interest, and he’s been following her ever since.

This has been going on for a few weeks now- enough for it to become part of her routine. She’ll be in her home at night, winding down from the day, and she’ll see lights appear at the end of her driveway. Sometimes they don’t come all the way down; they sit for a few minutes before reversing and driving away. But Kelli always knows that they’ll be back, at some point. While she's lying in bed, sometimes before she falls asleep, she’ll hear the crunching of snow and gravel under tires as the car approaches. If she's already asleep, sometimes she'll wake up briefly, by some sort of sixth sense maybe, letting her know that she is not alone here; that there’s someone outside. The beams of light sweeping over her curtains before going out look like that of a passing vehicle on the road, but her driveway is long, so the house is not right next to the road itself. Instead it's tucked a little ways back into the trees; perfect for her to hide. And, evidently, perfect for someone else to hide, too.

He hasn’t gone any further than parking in the driveway and walking around her small house, peering in the windows. But she wonders how long it will stay that way. How long before he gets a hold of her house key, and makes a copy? How long before he decides to see if one of the windows will open, so he can slide in? The answer to that, is that even after two weeks, things have been steadily escalating. And it's not like she can call the police. They'd laugh her right off the phone if she told them that it's their sheriff who is stalking her.

His name is Sheriff Ray Donnovan; mid forties, law enforcer of this small town, and her stalker.

Even when she tries to tell someone, they’ve all just chalked it up to him being ‘a good cop’; ‘looking out for his town’. Plus, your house is on the main road anyways; he’s probably just parking in your driveway to watch for late night speeders. They overlook the fact that the sheriff doesn’t normally work nights; being of a higher rank, wouldn’t he pick a better shift than the graveyard one? And why, if he’s been working all day, is he parking in Kelli's driveway like a traffic cop trying to meet his monthly quota? Doesn’t the sheriff have better things to do? Also, wouldn’t he first ask to use her driveway if he was going to be hiding there to catch unsuspecting drivers in the wee hours of the morning?

She knows better. A good cop doesn’t come to someone’s house at night while they’re asleep (or while he thinks they’re asleep), and park outside in their driveway all night. A good cop doesn’t memorize someone’s schedule so that he happens to run into them in random places, multiple times a week. A good cop doesn’t walk the perimeter of someone’s house every night, without being asked, to look in their windows and try to find weak points of entry.

You’re just being paranoid, they tell her. He’s a good guy; he’s an upstanding citizen. He’s the sheriff, for chrissake.

She shakes her head to clear the swirling thoughts, and open her car door. Being late to work won’t fix anything.

♡˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ♡

This is an original work of mine, as are the characters.

I do not own the song ‘My Oh My’ by Camilla Cabello. The above picture is from pinterest and there’s a link attached to the original post.

#hunterssm00n #yandere #original character #stalker #aesthetic #stalker cop #yandere cop #yandere sheriff #my drabbles #my work #mine** #my writing #yande.re #yandere aesthetic #stalker aesthetic #stalker OC #yandere OC #soft yandere #obsessive love #yanderecore

[animalhumanemn]

We adopted Kylo from the Golden Valley site on New Years' Eve 2023.

2023 was a really difficult year for my husband and I and started with one of our senior dogs (Daisy) going to the urgent care vet on January 1st. The year progressed with her being diagnosed with degenerative neuropathy and Cushing’s. About half way through the year (on Memorial Day) our other senior dog (Duke) became ill and was diagnosed with hemangiosarcoma 2 days later. It had already spread throughout his body so we made the extremely difficult decision to end his suffering and say goodbye. This was the first time we had ever had to make the decision to say goodbye to a fur-baby and it was the most difficult decision we had ever been faced with!

Returning home to Daisy (and Poppy) without Duke was heartbreaking! Daisy was never the same after he passed and developed severe separation anxiety. Her health continued to be a rollercoaster for the next few months and life without her best buddy definitely took a toll on her. In early November she developed a gagging cough and ended up at the emergency vet in the middle of the night. She was diagnosed with heart failure and atrial fibrillation. The outlook wasn't good and she had already been through so much throughout the year, that we again made the heart-wrenching decision to end her suffering and pain and say goodbye.

Two dogs in one year was more than we could bear and it broke us! We weren't sure we would ever be able to open our hearts up to another dog after we lost two of our best friends. Luckily, we had our sweet cat (Poppy) there to comfort us with endless cuddles. Her unconditional love is what got us through those first few months. After a couple of months passed, we were really struggling with how quiet the house was without Daisy and Duke. We had at least one dog in our home for the last 14 years and had never lived in a house as a couple without one. So we started to casually look at puppies online at Animal Humane Society. Our hearts slowly started to open up to the idea that maybe we could share our love with a dog again, but we were concerned about how we would introduce a dog to Poppy as her happiness and wellbeing were our main priority and concern.

We visited the Humane Society a few times over the next few weeks and visited with a few puppies, but nothing felt quite right. The Friday before New Year's Eve we saw a puppy online at the Coon Rapids location. After we both got off work we met there to go visit with him. Unfortunately, another couple already had him in a visitation room and ended up taking him home. We took that as a sign that he wasn’t the puppy for us and decided to keep looking online and decided that we would make a trip to Golden Valley right when they opened Sunday morning (New Year's Eve) to see what puppies they had available. We looked at the website on Saturday evening and had our eye on a 3-month-old puppy, Biscuit. She was absolutely adorable and we figured she was still young enough to be able to work with her on building a great relationship with Poppy.

We arrived at the Golden Valley location shortly after they opened on New Years Eve and quickly made our way back to the puppy suites. We located a volunteer and asked to take Biscuit into a visitation room. We visited with her for a while, but the connection wasn’t really there. We could see the other puppies from the room we were in and noticed a little pure white puppy watching us. My husband left the room to find a volunteer because he wanted to switch puppies and visit with him instead. Not long after switching puppies we knew something was different. This one felt right, but would he get along with Poppy? We stayed in the visitation room with him for over an hour and visited with several staff and volunteers during that period trying to decide if this would work. The last volunteer we visited with was a foster for kittens and shared her experience with us and told us confidently that she thought he would be a good fit for Poppy if we introduced them slowly. So we decided to leave that day with Kylo, still not completely sure we were ready for this, but knowing that we wouldn’t have the heart to return him, so we had to make this work!

We weren’t attached to the name Kylo so thought about changing it to Peanut. Later that evening; out of curiosity, I googled “Kylo meaning”. What popped up at the top of my search was “Sky; Heavenly” and we instantly knew we had to keep the name. I am a true believer that everything happens for a reason, whether we see it right away or not and it felt like this was a sign that he had been sent to us by our fur-babies who crossed the rainbow bridge earlier in the year.

Two months have passed since we brought our sweet Kylo home. His personality and appearance are an odd 50/50 combination of Daisy and Duke. While he looks more like Duke in his stature, he has Daisy’s color. He loves to cuddle in blankets like Duke used to, and sleeps with his limbs in the air like Daisy used to. He is a constant reminder of our fur-babies that have passed, but also brings a new life into our house that we haven’t had in a while. I think he is exactly what we needed to be able to move forward. I still struggle with the loss of Daisy and Duke every day, but he is there to help me through it alongside Poppy. The first few weeks were really tough introducing him to Poppy, but I am happy to report that as of a few weeks ago we are all sleeping in the same bed and Kylo no longer has to be on a leash in the house!

I want to say “THANK YOU” to everyone involved with Animal Humane Society! The work you do is so AMAZING! Kylo is our 4th fur-baby adopted from Animal Humane Society's Golden Valley location.

(Daisy & Duke are in the first picture, Kylo and Poppy are in the second picture and Kylo is pictured alone in the last one)

— Sarah & Matt

[vulpes-fennec]

Love on Water Lilies 🪷 (Ch 1)

Summary: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom is all play, no work. Elain Archeron, a waitress and aspiring restaurant owner in the city of Colibri, is all work, no play. Caught in a larger scheme of politics and war, Lucien and Elain are turned into frogs. Will Elain get her restaurant back? Will Lucien ever become Fae again?

Read on AO3

An Princess and the Frog inspired story for @elucienweekofficial Day 5: Nature 🍃

“Fried plantains and fresh fruit salad! Two vanilla golden toasts with honey syrup! Banana pudding!” The line cooks’ voices rang out from the sizzling kitchen.

“Coming right on up!” Elain Archeron plastered on a bright smile and cheerful voice as she dished out plate after plate of breakfast at Roy’s Cafe. The heavenly smell of fresh coffee was barely enough to keep Elain awake—she was exhausted. Elain glanced at the clock. Five more minutes…

Her shift at the Purple Flamingo Cabaret last night had certainly taken its toll, for the Summer Kingdom’s Mardi Gras festivities had begun. The swamp city of Colibri, known for good food and even better music, drew thousands of visitors every Mardi Gras. And this year, a special celebrity was in their midst: Prince Lucien Vanserra of the Autumn Kingdom, who had arrived just yesterday.

Although Elain hadn’t seen this prince yet, she heard plenty about him last night at the Purple Flamingo. The fourth and youngest son of King Beron Vanserra, Lucien was young, rich, handsome…and most importantly, single. He would probably remain that way, too, for word on the street was that Lucien was a total flirt. Gallivanting his way across Prythian’s kingdoms, taking on new lovers each week, partying all night long…

Elain grabbed a beignet to-go when she finally clocked out. Gulls squawked in the distance, green-painted trolleys clanged as they rolled by. Mardi Gras revelers walked by, decked out in chic outfits of green, purple, and yellow. With her food-stained yellow apron, worn ballet flats, and frazzled honey-brown hair, Elain felt a pinch of resentment.

Must be nice to never have to work a day in your life. Every year, the promise of generous tips during Mardi Gras dangled before food service workers like a carrot, tricking them into taking extra shifts.

It wasn’t always this way. Elain remembered the Mardi Gras celebrations of her childhood, the way she and her sisters danced to lively jazz and ate their way through delicacies all night long. The Archeron home used to be in the Marigold District, where all the wealthy Fae lived. But then Elain’s mother passed away, leaving her father depressed. Reginald Archeron rallied himself enough to fight in the Hybern War seven years ago, but lost his leg during one of the early battles.

Elain loved her father dearly, but it was plain fact that he had practically given up on life after becoming handicapped. The familial roles had reversed: instead of their father ensuring his daughters’ needs were met, Elain, Feyre, and Nesta were forced to take odd jobs in order to survive. Nesta delivered and occasionally edited for The Colibri Tribune. Feyre cleaned the art studios and landed the occasional art commission. Elain juggled multiple shifts between Roy’s Cafe, the Purple Flamingo Cabaret, and Emile’s Seafood Bar.

Though her shifts were grueling, Elain tried to view them in a positive light. It was career training of sorts: she paid attention to different management styles, brushed up her conversational skills with all sorts of Fae as a waitress, and improved her culinary skills as a cook. Ever since she was a little girl, a riverfront cafe to call her own had been Elain’s dream. When her family fell from wealth seven years ago, that dream was almost lost.

But now, Elain was closer to achieving that dream than ever. She was fairly confident in her capabilities as a cook and waitress. She had strong accounting skills, enough to ensure her restaurant wouldn’t go bankrupt. And more importantly, she had been in serious talks with realtors for a decrepit riverfront pavilion. The pavilion was a little run-down, but it was perfect in Elain’s heart. She juussttt needed a little more money…which was where the Mardi Gras cooking contest would come into play.

Because in addition to the multiple parades, balls, concerts, and parties, Mardi Gras featured local cuisines in a series of cooking concerts.

Today was the jambalaya cooking contest, which was taking place at Firefly Square. Tomorrow, Elain was slated for the baking contest, where she planned to wow the judges with her peach cobbler. The day after, she would participate in the fry contest, having perfected her fried chicken spice rub.

Elain stopped home to briefly freshen up. It was a tiny, cramped space—an utter downgrade from their old home. She and her sisters had squeezed three narrow beds into a room, the sole closet overflowing with clothes. The living room wasn’t much better: Feyre’s art supplies were strewn across every available surface, and Nesta’s second-hand books tilted in precarious stacks. Only the kitchen, Elain’s domain, remained spotlessly clean and organized.

Elain powdered her face, brushed her curls, dabbed a bit of lipstick, and donned a new dress. She needed to look fresh and proper, and a cute face never hurt.

She then hurried to Firefly Square, wheeling a little wagon full of ingredients and her trusty steel pot. Savory dishes were not her specialty, so Elain needed all the luck she could get. However, she was fairly confident that her jambalaya would at least place in the top three. Her best friend, Vassa La Bouff, and her sisters had helped refine the recipe over the last year, and the ladies could be trusted to give their honest opinion.

“Name?” The event attendant held a clipboard at the check-in table.

“Elain Archeron,” Elain replied cheerfully. The event attendant wrote her name on a wooden placard and placed it on the scoring rack. The five judges, a mix of renowned cooks and locals, were seated under a rich purple tent. Onlookers had gathered on the sidelines of Firefly Square to watch the judges sample each entry and announce their points.

Several other participants were already present, busying away at their own cooking stations. While there was no set “start” time due to the participants’ varying culinary skills and recipes, the judges would begin tasting at one o’clock in the afternoon. So Elain got to work.

First, she braided up her honey-brown hair and donned a flowery pink apron. Then, she began expertly mincing: peppers, celery, onion, garlic, and tomatoes. The heated oil sizzled the chicken and sausage, bringing fragrant notes of paprika, bay leaf, and thyme into the air. The meat was taken out, the vegetables added in. Elain cleaned the rice, poured in homemade chicken stock, and added more salt, pepper, and herbs.

Elain stirred the bubbling mixture, using the time to observe the other participants. There were ten competitors total. Some appeared to be seasoned chefs, others looked like novices. Regardless, everybody was making good progress on their jambalaya. And more importantly, everyone looked like they were having fun.

Elain’s mouth watered from the scents wafting from her pot alone. The consistency of her jambalaya was thick, but not mushy—it was all coming together nicely. Elain did a final taste test and smiled. Spicy, savory, and tangy…it was her best pot of jambalaya yet.

The judges seemed to think so, too, when they sampled her dish.

“Wonderful aromas.”

“The chicken is the right amount of tender, Miss Archeron.”

“Tastes just like my grandmother’s home-style jambalaya!”

This—this was exactly why Elain loved to cook: seeing people enjoy her food made her happiest. She was the last contestant up for tasting, which meant the score the judges awarded would be her final placement for the contest. Elain’s breath caught when she tallied up the judges’ marks. Third place…third place! Oh, she was going to walk away with prize money! Elain ducked her head and tried to squash her victorious beam. One step closer to—

“Excuse me! Excuse me!”

The most beautiful male Elain had ever seen strode into the courtyard, lugging a steaming pot with bare hands. His skin was a burnished brown, his long red hair tied up in a haphazard bun. She found herself eyeing his corded forearms, exposed thanks to the rolled-up sleeves of his white linen shirt. The male’s straight-legged olive green pants accented his muscled thighs, and his shiny black shoes with their gold details indicated expensive taste.

An entire entourage of Fae, mostly female, had followed the male into Ironwood Square, inevitably shoving Elain to the back.

“It’s Prince Lucien,” the crowd murmured to each other. “What is he doing here?”

Prince Lucien? Well…that explained how he could hold such a hot pot without any oven mitts. The Autumn Kingdom’s royal family possessed fire magic, which meant they could manipulate flame and were essentially immune to burns. Elain even overheard at The Purple Flamingo last night that Autumn males—especially the royal princes—fucked with an intensity that matched the fire in their veins.

Elain had practically snorted upon hearing such words last night, though looking at Prince Lucien now, it was certainly believable. But the delighted giggling of several females when the prince stepped up to the podium snapped Elain out of her reverie. Ugh! Prince Lucien was a playboy at best, a heartbreaker at worst, she reminded herself. No, she would not encourage the fantasies that had been surely planted in her mind thanks to his impromptu appearance, lest she turn into a tittering female over a male like him.

“Good afternoon, honorable judges.” Prince Lucien’s voice was rich and buttery, with a slight accent. For some reason, it reminded Elain of sunlight. He turned towards the crowd, and Elain stifled a gasp upon seeing the scar that ran down his face and cut through his left eye, which had been replaced by a mechanical gold eye. Such a brutal injury, yet the prince was made more handsome even with the scar.

“Welcome, Prince Lucien!” The lead judge leapt to her feet, a wide smile on her face. The crowd cheered again. Some females even screamed hysterically.

Prince Lucien gestured grandly to the entourage that followed him, gold earrings twinkling off the tips of his pointed ears. “I am here to enter the jambalaya competition. As there was no kitchen in my hotel suite, I had to borrow the kitchen at Restaurante Genevieve. Chef Michel and these citizens can attest that I made the jambalaya all on my own.”

The prince peered intently at the scoreboard, already stacked with ten other names and numbers. Elain could have sworn his brows raised in subtle surprise.

“Though I see now that I was tardy…” Prince Lucien trailed off as his eyes swept the crowd, as if he were looking for someone.

“The entry period closed thirty minutes ago but ah…we can make an exception, can we not?” The lead judge said quickly, and the audience clapped in agreement. The other judges nodded eagerly, clearly delighted at the presence of royalty. “Well, Your Highness, we would be honored to sample your jambalaya!”

Elain’s jaw slackened. A prince, participating in a jambalaya contest? She had never heard of such a thing. Royals had their own chefs. They probably wouldn’t even know how to boil an egg.

The prince’s russet and gold eyes were still scanning the square with unusual interest. Elain eyed him skeptically from the back, observing the confident smile on Lucien’s face and the swaggering cut of his broad shoulders. There was the off chance that Prince Lucien possessed culinary skills…but he was from the Autumn Kingdom. He wouldn’t know a thing about authentic jambalaya, Elain told herself. Elain relaxed, knowing she was safe and secure in third place as the judges sampled Lucien’s entree.

“Cauldron, this is absolutely divine!”

“Look at the colors on the spoon! So vibrant, so fresh!”

“I could eat this for the rest of my life and die happy.”

“Last call to score…and…first place! We have a winner!” The crowd cheered raucously.

Elain’s mouth completely fell open when the score attendant placed Prince Lucien Vanserra’s name placard on the top of the board, shifting everybody else down. Which meant…which meant she had been knocked off third place.

Elain was in shock. She wasn’t going to make it to the podium, and she wasn’t going to earn any prize money. Prince Lucien bowed, and then turned to the crowd that had gathered.

“Good food is meant to be shared! Please, feel free to finish the pot!” he announced, voice dripping with pride. More cheers and claps rang out as Elain was jostled out of the way in the mad stampede for the winning jambalaya.

This was not possible. This could not be happening.

Elain’s face grew hot with embarrassment, as she hurriedly packed up her wagon. It was time to go; she could not bear to spend another minute in the square with knowledge of her loss. Elain half-wondered if she should join the crowd and really try Prince Lucien’s jambalaya for herself. It couldn’t be that good. But the notion of a rich, playboy prince edging her off the podium in a cooking contest he had no stakes in was too shameful to consider. She could’ve done better. Should’ve done better.

Elain didn’t look back as she wheeled her wagon home, the rusty wheels click-clacking over the cobblestoned streets. Her half-full pot of jambalaya would become leftovers for her sister and father. At least they didn’t have to spend more money on groceries this week.

Some humility would do her good, Elain knew, as she was not a “professional” chef yet, but gods…would she ever be? If a prince could beat her in a cooking contest? If she couldn’t even win a couple judges’ favor, how was she going to draw the Colibri Fae to her restaurant?

—Later that evening—

After a fitful afternoon nap, Elain decided to stop by her cafe before heading to Vassa’s house. Well, it wasn’t hers yet, but Elain had recently begun treating it as such. She sat on a bench, listening to the lapping of the Mayhaven River, watching the steamboats chugging by.

“I’m almost there,” she whispered to herself. “People are going to come here from everywhere, I’m almost there.” The riverfront pavilion was a shabby brick building that had been a mess hall for dock workers in its previous life. The interior’s open layout would be the perfect place to install a stage for local musicians. Each table would have fresh flowers, the walls would be painted a creamy tan, the big windows would offer river views and plenty of natural light… oh, it was all coming together.

The door swung open. Hudson Jennings, Elain’s realtor, walked out with a folder tucked under his arm. Elain leapt up from her bench, ready to bid him hello. But she froze when a head of red hair ducked through the doorway. No…it couldn’t be…

“Pleasure doing business with you, Your Highness,” Hudson said, shaking Lucien Vanserra’s hand firmly. Even without his entourage of fans, Lucien held himself with a regal grace and winning smile.

“Of course,” Elain could hear the prince respond smoothly. “I look forward to establishing a second residence in Colibri.” Elain could only watch in horror as the realtor handed Lucien a set of keys before parting ways. Keys to her riverfront cafe!

“Mr. Jennings!” Elain ran as fast as her little feet could carry her as soon as Lucien had walked away. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods. This must be a bad dream.

“Oh! Miss Archeron!” Hudson blinked his cat-like eyes in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”

“Mr. Jennings, did you just sell the property to Lucien?” Elain was breathless. Please say no, please say no, she begged silently.

“Ah, yes I’m afraid I just did.” Hudson patted the folder of papers. “I know, I know…you have been eyeing that property for some time, Miss Archeron, but the prince showed up with ample cash! We have several other properties available in town for your cafe, though. Let us talk more next week.”

“But—” Elain tried to say, then deflated. Her realtor was already walking away. There was no use. Unless she somehow managed to alter Hudson’s memory, rip up the sale papers, and steal the keys from Lucien, the property was gone. And so were her dreams of owning a riverfront cafe.

It seemed the prince was hell-bent on ruining her life. Lucien had fame and fortune, and got everything Elain wanted because of his name. Perhaps Elain had angered the Mother, somehow. For how else could so much go wrong in less than 24 hours?

Elain tried very hard not to cry as she rode the trolley to Vassa’s house. One, she was in public, and ladies did not cry in public. Two, the La Bouff Mardi Gras ball was starting in a few hours. Elain had been looking forward to the event all month, and crying right now would make her eyes puffy.

The La Bouffs resided in the Dorado District, the richest district in all of Colibri. Vassa’s “house” was actually a grand, three-story mansion of pale white marble, elegant columns, iron lace accents, and sweeping gabled roofs. When Elain arrived, the bustle of the musicians tuning their instruments and the servants, the gurgling fountain, and the beautiful lanterns of green, yellow, and purple faelight made her smile. A good party always made her feel more alive, even though she attended very few of them in recent years.

Vassa’s parents were one of the Mardi Gras royalty this year, and had invited Elain to the La Bouff Mardi Gras ball. Vassa was a true friend: she didn’t shun Elain after the Archerons fell into poverty, and for that Elain was eternally grateful. The footmen, used to her comings and goings, offered Elain warm greetings when she entered the mansion via the servants’ gate.

While Elain spent her days working, Vassa spent her days studying. The young La Bouff was finishing her last year at the prestigious Colibri Academy for Witchcraft, and was determined to be the top of her class. The only thing in Vassa’s way? Briallyn, a rival witch from the Continent. During the unfortunate occasions Elain had to interact with Briallyn, Elain felt the witch resembled a beady-eyed lizard.

Elain made her way down the spacious hallway and knocked on Vassa’s bedroom door.

“Elain! I’m so glad you’re here!” Vassa threw her arms around Elain. Her best friend’s orange hair was styled into loose waves, her bright blue eyes already lined with gold shadow. “Come, let us get ready together!”

“Vassa, it’s so good to see you,” Elain sighed, her voice still thick with emotion from earlier.

“What’s wrong?” Vassa asked, her brow creasing with concern. “Was it the jambalaya contest? Did you not get first place? I mean, second place is also fine, and so is third.”

Elain sat down on Vassa’s bed, hugging her knees to her chest. “The jambalaya concert was fine, until Prince Lucien Vanserra showed up at the last minute,” she said bitterly. “I had placed third, but that was before the judges awarded him first place. I got bumped down and I didn’t get any prize money.”

“Oh no,” Vassa rubbed Elain’s back sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Elain.”

“It’s just not fair!” Elain complained, her face heated with anger. “The judges gave him special treatment, letting him enter the contest even though the judging window had closed! Lucien was cooking off-site, how could anybody truly tell he was the primary chef? And perhaps they didn’t want to upset a prince, so they put him first even though he didn’t deserve it!”

“I see what you mean,” Vassa hummed. “Did you end up tasting his jambalaya? Surely it couldn’t be as good as yours. Those judges must not have working tastebuds.”

“No, but that’s not even the end of it. I found out he bought the riverfront property from Hudson Jennings this afternoon. Vassa, you know how long I’ve been saving up for my cafe! To think the perfect location would be gone, just like that…”

“Cauldron boil and fry him,” Vassa muttered darkly, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Vassa. I know you’ve been looking forward to meeting Prince Lucien, that you want him to court you.” Elain sighed. “I shouldn’t be bad-mouthing him.”

“No, no, no,” Vassa shook her head. “Of course, I want Prince Lucien to court me, have you seen how handsome he is? But, your restaurant is something that I’ve been waiting for ever since we were little girls, Elain…when I see him tonight I will convince him to rescind the purchase.”

“Thanks, Vassa,” Elain smiled, feeling better. What Vassa set her mind to, Vassa achieved. She had no doubt her friend’s beauty and persistence would get the prince to change his mind. “He did say he wanted the property as a second residence.”

“Well! It wouldn’t be too hard to convince him to buy property in other Colibri districts!” Vassa raised her brows excitedly. “He could move in with me.” Vassa jumped to her feet, trying to inject some more life into Elain’s forlorn posture. “Now I know today hasn’t been the best day, Elain. But this ball will turn it all around! I have just the perfect dress for you, and I know you’ll have plenty of males to dance the night away with. It’s in the closet, come see!”

***Lucien***

“Just look at all of this, Jurian,” Lucien said to his best friend when they regrouped after the dance ended. “One of the best parties I’ve been to in a while.”

He had left his entourage of pretty females at the La Bouff mansion gate. Not that it really mattered, since there were even more females inside the ball. The musicians played lively tunes, inviting attendees to kick up their feet and whirl across the marbled outdoor dance floor. The La Bouff Mardi Gras decorations were simply exquisite, from the soft faelight lanterns hanging off trees to the flower arrangements on tables. Fae wine and cocktails flowed freely, wait staff walked around with platters of delicious food.

“Don’t tell Tarquin, but I’m enjoying myself far more here than the Mardi Gras balls in Adriata,” Jurian slurred slightly. The male lifted a pair of deviled eggs off a waiter’s tray and handed one to Lucien. “Though it is positively boiling in Colibri.”

“Of course, we’re near the Bog of Oorid,” Lucien remarked. He had donned an emerald green jacket with embroidered gold leaves at the cuffs, a freshly pressed white shirt, and black pants. The layers made him sweat profusely, though Lucien wicked away the excess moisture with a slight release on the damper of his magic. He looked good, and that was what mattered at the end of the night.

“Gods, I’m so hungry,” Jurian muttered as he inhaled a fried catfish filet within seconds. “They ate all your jambalaya before I could eat some.”

Lucien laughed. “Better clean up those crumbs and drink some mint julep before the next dance, Jurian. The females won’t appreciate fish breath.” Jurian only rolled his eyes as he turned his attention to a slice of Mardi Gras king cake.

Lucien scanned the rows of vendors, looking for the baked goods. But none of the vendors’ name tags read “Elain Archeron”. He sighed inwardly. He had no idea what Elain Archeron looked like, but had been hoping to try some of her famed treats. Tarquin, Prince of Adriata, could not stop talking about the hummingbird cake, peach cobblers, and powdered sugar beignets Elain made when she catered his Mardi Gras event in Adriata last year.

“If you’re visiting Colibri, you must try Elain Archeron’s food,” Tarquin had told him. “Elain’s cafe should be open by now. She is a very kind female as well, and please tell her I said hello.”

Elain Archeron had been one of the jambalaya contestants earlier in the afternoon, but the female did not bother introducing herself to him. Odd.

“Looking for Vassa?” Jurian inquired. Lucien was supposed to meet the Mardi Gras princess and ask her for the first dance, but her parents claimed Vassa was running late for the ball.

“I suppose,” Lucien murmured, even though that was not the case. Jurian knocked back another glass of Fae wine beside him. “Cauldron, Jurian. Save some space for the mint juleps before you get too drunk.”

“Aha! That reminds me…I’ll find those mint juleps while you’re looking for your princess. All this heat has me parched. Be right back.” Jurian clapped Lucien on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Lucien lingered on the side, trying to assess which pretty female he would dance with next, when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. A pale-faced female, with onyx black hair and equally dark eyes, was standing behind him. There was something cunning in her face, something odd Lucien could not quite place. Nevertheless, the female was dressed as one of the wait staff and innocuously offered him a platter of powdered beignets.

“Beignet, Your Highness?” she asked, her voice peppy. “I heard the prince has a sweet tooth.”

“Thank you.” Lucien picked one up with a napkin and absentmindedly brought it to his mouth. It was only when Lucien swallowed his first bite that he realized something was wrong. The beignet was slightly bitter, the powdered sugar chalky on his tongue. Suddenly, everything seemed bigger. Everything was bigger.

Lucien blinked, feeling like his eyes had doubled in size based on how long it took for him to fully blink. The grass…it was eye-level, the blades of green sharp and extra vibrant. His body was hunched over on all fours. He was…a frog?

Oh gods. What the hell just happened?

A looming shadow darkened the space around him. Lucien looked up just in time to see the waitress, monstrously tall with a wicked glint in her eyes, poised to slam a bowl over his head.

Act first, think later.

Booiingg! Lucien moved on instinct, his frog legs launching him into the air like a spring. He dove straight into the crowd of Fae party-goers, stalling the waitress from pursuing him any further.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. That was new. Fear seized Lucien like a vise, the adrenaline sending him into flight mode. Where the hell did Jurian go? Everything was so damn big…the distance he normally crossed in three quick strides now required multiple leaps.

There! Jurian was near the tree line, mint juleps in hand. Lucien hopped towards his friend, gaining more mastery over his new limbs with each leap.

“Jurian!” Lucien blinked, surprised that he still retained the ability to speak. “Jurian! Down here!” he called out, louder this time.

The Fae male above him glanced down and promptly dropped the drinks in shock. Lucien flinched reflexively when minty sweet alcohol rained down, but it didn’t matter any more. As a frog, he had no clothes to protect from spilled drinks.

“Fuck, I must be more drunk than I thought.” Jurian blinked twice and chuckled. “I could have sworn that a frog with Lucien’s voice just spoke to me.”

“That’s because it is me!” Lucien hissed, hopping up and down insistently. “Jurian!”

“Holy shit.” Jurian knelt on the ground, scooping him up in his hands. “Lucien, is that you?”

“How many times do I have to say it’s me?” Lucien grumbled. Jurian’s green-brown eyes peered down.

“Cauldron, you still have your scar and your gold eye. Well, it’s not made of metal anymore, but…fuck.” Jurian lifted Lucien up to perch on his shoulder. Lucien brought a webbed hand to his face, feeling at his left eye. Sure enough, he could see out of both eyes—truly see, without relying on a metal contraption. “Fuck, I probably look like I’ve gone mad, talking to a frog.”

The male took some deep breaths, pacing back and forth. Lucien clung onto Jurian’s purple jacket for dear life. “Jurian, can you stop moving?”

“Sorry. We need another drink.” Jurian swiped two goblets of wine off a passing tray and ducked behind a drooping willow tree. Lucien hopped down, sitting on all fours on top of Jurian’s thigh. “Okay, Lucien. What the fuck happened?”

“I ate a beignet from this waitress, and then I turn into a frog and she’s trying to trap me under a bowl!” Lucien glanced furtively at their surroundings, but did not see the wretched female’s face.

“What did the waitress look like?”

“High Fae. Pale, with black hair and black eyes. She was wearing the La Bouff servant’s uniform.” Jurian’s gaze darkened with protective instinct.

“Why would she put a curse on you?”

Lucien shrugged. “Not sure. She knew who I was, though, so that’s strange. I’m Beron’s youngest son, with a slim path to the throne. What good would come out of cursing me?”

“Perhaps she wanted money. Ransom a prince, you know.”

“As if Beron would pay more than a couple coppers to get me back,” Lucien said bitterly.

“You’re right, your father is a bastard.” Jurian frowned. “Could you undo the curse yourself?”

“I can try.” Now that he had Jurian to keep watch, Lucien closed his eyes and tried to tunnel deep down into his well of magic. He had always had a knack for spells and curses. It wasn’t like that of witches, who required specific ingredients, tools, and conditions to generate any effect. Rather, it was pure magic—power that stemmed from being the son of a High Lord.

He found the dark stain of the curse, but despite all his efforts to extract it, the stain remained stubbornly present. It was as if it was interwoven into his very essence. Lucien yanked and prodded and threw wave after wave of magic against it, but to no avail.

“It’s not working,” he announced glumly.

“We should find the La Bouffs…tell them that one of their staff, or the food they served, turned the visiting Autumn Prince into a frog,” Jurian proposed, his fists clenching with concern. “If they cannot resolve this, then they should be held liable.”

“Isn’t that a little harsh?” Lucien replied dryly. “Lord and Lady La Bouff can only do so much. But Vassa…she’s studying to be a witch. I heard she’s the top of her class…perhaps she could assist with undoing the curse.”

“Perhaps,” Jurian mused doubtfully.

Lucien hopped onto the rim of the wine goblet and stuck his tongue into the chilled liquor. The sweet and tangy notes were far more sensational thanks to his new taste buds. Unfortunately, his added weight was an imbalance to the delicate stem, and Lucien promptly tipped backwards. Red wine poured over his entire underside, drenching him.

Jurian began to laugh.

“You know frogs absorb liquid from their underbelly skin, right? You’ll be drunk in no time.” Lucien stuck his tongue out at Jurian and rolled around the grass for a bit, trying to clean himself off. “I suppose Vassa would be glad to help a prince for fame, or fortune.”

“Also, we have the old tale of princesses kissing frog princes,” Lucien reminded Jurian. “With the laws governing witch magic, it’s very likely that this curse follows the same path of resolution.”

Jurian snorted. “Good luck trying to convince a princess—even if it’s a Mardi Gras princess—to kiss a frog. We are better off pleading directly.”

Lucien tried to grin, but it felt strange with a new mouth and new facial muscles. “You seem to underestimate me, Jurian.”

“Let’s bet on it: if you can get the princess to kiss you, I’ll walk Eris’s dogs for the next month.”

“I do enjoy a challenge. I offer you this, just for fun. If the princess kisses you, Jurian, then I’ll buy you a new sword. Out of Illyrian steel.” Lucien stood on his hind legs, straightening his back and tilting his chin up with the regal air of a prince. Jurian rolled his eyes.

“As if a princess would want to kiss a lowly Autumn Kingdom foot soldier over its prince.”

“I beg to differ, Jurian. I’m a frog this time…I think that evens the playing field.” Lucien winked. “Besides, stop discrediting yourself. You’re one of our most skilled warriors. Anyways…best of luck, I’m off to find the princess!”

“You bastard,” Jurian muttered darkly, shaking his head with amusement. He finished his wine in two large gulps, holding the empty glass up in a mock toast. “I would say I hope you lose, but life would also be boring if you were stuck in frog form.”

With that, Lucien hopped off towards the La Bouff mansion. There was a slim chance Vassa was still getting ready for the party—truly, females needed all the time possible plus more for these elaborate events.

Most of the ball’s festivities were taking place in the garden and first floor, and Lucien could hear Lord and Lady La Bouff—the Dorado Mardi Gras King and Queen—chatting with guests. That meant the light emanating from the window on the second floor was none other than Vassa La Bouff’s.

Clinging to small nooks in the marble, scaling up vine to vine—which was made harder thanks to his slippery frog mucus, Lucien made his way to the golden window.

Princess Vassa was standing on the balcony, and simply put, she was the most beautiful female Lucien had ever seen.

The female’s wide eyes were cast towards the heavens, her expression a mixture of hope and despair. Honey-brown hair was swept up into an artful bun studded with luminous pearls. A tiara of rose gold rested on her brow, glittering in the moonlight. Her soft curves and elegant shoulders were accented by a strapless lavender gown with a heart-shaped neckline.

“Please, please, please,” the ethereal princess whispered, clasping her gloved hands to her chest. “Please.”

Lucien hopped closer, the world spinning out of view. Ah, damn it. The alcohol was kicking in faster than he’d anticipated. Princely charm now had to be mobilized in full force if he wanted to receive a kiss.

He cleared his throat, but only a ribbet came out. The princess glanced down, spotting him. Gods, she was beautiful. Those doe brown eyes, that golden skin still warm under the silver moon, and those pretty rosebud lips that hooked Lucien in like a moth to a flame.

“If you wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask.”

#elucien #elucienweek2023 #elain archeron #lucien vanserra

[supernaturalfreakout]

Worlds Apart—The Longing

[History on Your Side—Chapter 8.] Sam Winchester x Reader

Chapter summary: As you and Sam navigate your separate lives, an invisible thread keeps tightening, inevitably pulling you back together. Warnings: Explicit/NSFW *Please see the masterlist for entire work summary and tags* Read on AO3 | Masterlist

YOU

Hours turned into days, and days turned into weeks. You'd remained in Mystic Falls longer than you'd anticipated, but as arrangements for Miranda and Grayson's funeral were well underway, you decided to stay until they had been laid to rest.

Elena had remained at Bonnie's for around two weeks before ultimately moving in with her aunt Jenna. You all checked in on her regularly, Matt especially, who seemed to be a permanent edition to the household. Between therapy sessions and funeral planning, Elena appeared to be doing okay, although she was still unable to recall any details of the accident, including how she survived without a scrape.

Despite the circumstances, you were thankful for the opportunity to be with your friends and family—a rare hollow carved out in time. You were never completely at ease, however, as a constant niggle in your brain signified that you were somehow out of balance. You tried your best to ignore it, filling every waking hour to distract yourself from the clashing tides within.

During the day, you had been able to work remotely from your parent's house and the local library. You were grateful the university allowed you this flexibility and thankful for some semblance of normality amidst the chaos. Alongside balancing work, you spent your days supporting Elena, attending to your parents, and even dodging Ric's not-so-subtle vies for your attention. It was exhausting, but worth it; anything to deter the impending numbness that threatened to consume you.

In the aftermath of your dream-induced panic, you and Sam had exchanged several messages. His words were a lifeline, reflecting genuine compassion and understanding, yet the feelings they evoked scared you as much as they reassured. You yearned for deeper connection, yet feared unveiling the depth of your feelings, trapping you both in a cycle of superficial exchanges. Guilt nagged at you relentlessly, the weight of concealing your true vulnerabilities taking a toll on your conscience, manifesting in a dissonance that left you vying for an escape. There were moments you almost called him, but refrained, burying your deepest hopes and fears.

As the day of the funeral dawned, you busied yourself alongside Bonnie and Caroline, arranging flowers and organizing food for the wake. The service itself was a somber affair, unfolding in a wave of emotions as Elena, Jeremy, and Jenna struggled through their tearful tributes. You tried to keep it together but failed. The combination of your friend's heartache and your parents silent tears became too much to bear, releasing a river that cascaded down your cheeks.

Back at Jenna's for the wake, stories of Miranda and Grayson's kindness and warmth flowed, tales of cherished moments that now felt both precious and fragile. It was heartbreaking, yet oddly comforting, a testament to the strength found in vulnerability and the support of loved ones. It was in these moments that you felt a subtle shift within yourself. Life, you realized, was way too unpredictable and fleeting to hold back on what truly mattered, leaving you with a resolve to embrace the present without reservations.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you bid lingering goodbyes, and eventually stepped back into your childhood bedroom. A rush of relief and exhaustion settled over you as you readied for bed, feeling the weight that had made its home on your shoulders lift ever so slightly. You slowly changed into your PJs, washed your face and brushed your teeth, before collapsing onto your mattress.

As you stared at the ceiling fan, a surge of clarity washed over you, as if you were now seeing clearly for the first time in weeks. Restlessness gnawed at you as you lay there, urging you to move, to do something, igniting a spark of confidence that spurred you to reach for your phone.

You crunched against the headboard, tucking your knees to your chest as you unlocked the screen and navigated to your contacts. You froze for a second, doubting yourself by habit, but before you could talk yourself out of it, your fingers moved of their own accord.

"Fuck it" you muttered, as you ultimately tapped call next to Sam's name.

The ringing echoed in your ears, each tone adding to the pounding of your heart as the seconds passed, blurring the lines between excitement and anxiety.

You nervously twirled a strand of hair around your finger as your thoughts raced, wondering whether he would answer or if the call would go to voicemail.

Then, just as you were about to give up hope, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

---

SAM

Blood splattered on Sam's face as he swung his blade, the head of a vampire rolling to the floor at his feet.

With a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, he wiped the blood from his brow, the metallic scent hanging heavy in the air.

Dean stepped closer, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder with a grin, surveying the now still nest. "Nice one, Sammy. That’s the last of them."

Sam nodded, feeling a surge of relief mixed with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

"Right, let's hit the road!" Dean exclaimed. "If I put my foot down, we'll make it back before sundown."

Sam nodded, "sure thing."

As they settled into the Impala, Sam felt the weight of exhaustion settle in his bones. Despite the successful case, a profound weariness settled in, leaving his mind vulnerable to the thoughts he had been trying so hard to repress. Thoughts of you tugged at the edges of his mind, as they always did in moments of solitude. He wondered what you were doing, how you were, whether you thought of him as much as he thought of you. No, I doubt that… Maybe I should let go of this idea? It never ends well for me anyway…

Despite these intrusive thoughts, he yearned to reach out, but a persistent sense of restraint anchored his desires, burying them beneath the demands and harsh realities of the hunter's life.

As his mind continued to wander, the steady hum of the Impala's engine lulled him into a drowsy state, offering him an escape route from his restless mind.

Dean glanced over, concern evident in his tone as his voice broke through the haze. "Hey, you good?"

"Yeah, just… tired…" Sam mumbled, his words trailing off as he let exhaustion claim him.

Dean chuckled softly, glancing at Sam now asleep in the passenger seat. "Rest up, Sammy. We'll be home soon."

As the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the bunker, Dean turned off the engine and glanced at his brother, still slumbering in the passenger seat. "Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. We're back."

With a nudge, Sam stirred, blinking sleepily as he rubbed his eyes. "Mmm, we're back already?"

"Yeah, buddy. Time flies when you're catching some Z's…" Dean chuckled, patting Sam's shoulder before grabbing the takeout he'd picked up, slamming the driver's door shut.

Sam yawned and stretched, dragging himself out of the car, the weariness still evident in his movements.

As they approached the bunker's entrance, Dean nudged Sam playfully. "Bet you a burger you'll be asleep before you finish chewing your dinner."

Sam chuckled weakly, the corners of his lips curling up. "You're on, Dean. But I'm holding you to that, even in my sleep."

As they made their way inside, the routine clunk of boots against the metal stairwell announced that they were finally home, followed by a familiar voice greeting them from below.

"Sam, Dean. You're back."

"Nice observation, Sherlock," Dean quipped.

"Hey Cas," Sam acknowledged with a nod.

After dumping his bags and, to Dean's dismay, successfully devouring his share of the takeout, Sam made a beeline for the shower.

Stepping into the embracing warmth, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the steam and familiar routine. The hot water cascaded over him like a balm, washing away the remnants of dirt and dried blood, offering a momentary respite from the chaos of their recent hunt.

Now, freshly scrubbed, the scent of sandalwood lingered, mingling with the faint aroma of steamed water that clung to his skin. His hair, still damp from the towel, carried the crisp scent of mint shampoo, it's faint residue refreshing his senses as he slid into his bed.

Soft cotton sheets welcomed him, the coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of the shower. Exhaustion settled over him like a weighted blanket, but, before sleep could claim him, he was startled by a vibration on the nightstand.

He shot his hand out, instinctively reaching for his phone in the darkness, anticipating another update from one of their contacts.

Suddenly, he was wide awake, his eyes widening in surprise as your name lit up the display.

His mind raced, wondering what had brought on your call. Was it urgent? Had something happened?

He sat upright, propping himself against the headboard, the faint glow of the phone screen illuminating his face as he swiped to answer your call.

---

YOU & SAM

"Y/N?"

The room felt suffocating as your breaths grew shallow, your pulse pounding in your ears, drowning out everything but Sam's voice. You took an uneven breath, attempting to steady yourself, but your voice betrayed your anxiety.

"Hey Sam…"

Sam listened intently, sensing your unease. "Hey… Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine…" You rushed to reassure him, but unease settled in your stomach as you caught yourself in a lie. "Well, actually… it's been a long day, I just wanted…" You paused, considering your words. "Can we talk…?"

Sam's voice held a mixture of surprise and anticipation as he raked his fingers through his damp hair. "Yeah… yeah of course… It's… nice to hear from you. How are things?"

The conversation started tentatively, the initial discomfort evident in the pauses and careful choice of words, but as the minutes passed, the awkwardness melted away, replaced by effortless familiarity and understanding.

"The funeral was today?" Sympathy radiated from Sam's voice as he tucked his hair behind his ear. He sounded as genuine as you remembered him being.

You reply softly, touched by his concern. "Yeah… It was rough… but… Elena will be okay, she's strong".

Sam nodded. "She sounds it… She's lucky to have a friend like you."

"If you say so…" You smile, not fully believing his words.

"How have you been holding up?"

You thought for a second. "I've been…okay… I'm doing better now, anyway. It's been nice to spend time with my family and friends, you know? We've all helped each other."

Sam hummed in understanding.

"And, my work has been a bit of a distraction… This new project I'm working on… it's demanding, to say the least, and I'm still adjusting."

"Hmm, change is always hard… Especially with everything you're dealing with on top of it".

You sigh. "Yeah I guess so… Anyway, how are you? Any interesting cases lately?"

"Well…today it was a Vamp nest, pretty standard."

"Yeah, Vampires… standard, right…" You laugh, hearing Sam chuckle down the phone.

It's so nice to hear her laugh, Sam thought, smiling to himself.

"But uh… we've been seeing a lot of Castiel recently, which has been… interesting…"

"Castiel?" You were intrigued by the unfamiliar name.

"He's an Angel," Sam explained, noticing your curiosity. "He's been helping us out with something… biblical…"

"Oh, right… one of those Angels you mentioned… I bet that adds a whole new dimension to your hunts?"

Sam chuckled, "you could say that… It's always eventful with Cas. He's been hanging around the bunker lately, something to do with 'watching over Dean'. It's a bit off-putting, in all honesty."

Whoa. "So… you're basically living with an Angel?" You couldn't hide your astonishment.

"You could… meet him, you know… that offer still stands, about visiting the bunker…"

"That's umm… quite an offer… I… I've never been the most religious person… I might need some time to prepare…"

Sam exhaled through his nose. "Cas… doesn't judge. He may speak his mind, but he's… a goofy puppy".

"So… no need to go to confessional…?"

"Absolutely not!" Sam laughed, as he wondered what you could possibly need to confess.

You mirrored his amusement before pausing, taking a moment to steady your swirling nerves.

"So… I'm actually flying back to Kansas tomorrow…"

Sam's heart began to beat a little bit faster. "Oh? How are you feeling about that?"

There was a momentary silence, an unspoken pause filled with the weight of unsaid words as you considered your response.

Throughout your conversation, the depth of your connection had started to rekindle, bridging the gap that had widened in recent weeks. Sam's voice was a soothing balm to your troubled mind, and gradually, you found the courage to consider opening up to him completely. Your heart raced and your palms became sweaty as you considered how to approach this.

"Y/N?" Sam said your name softly, brow creased with anticipation as he sensed your nervousness through the line. "Are you alright?"

"Um, yeah, I…" you pause, anticipation coursing through your veins as those butterflies began flapping their wings frantically. You unconsciously clutched the phone tighter, your knuckles turning white.

Should I tell him? Maybe it's too soon? What if I'm misreading everything? You debated your thoughts internally, but the ache in your chest compelled you to open up, to take the risk and lay your true feelings bare.

You relented, the words tumbling out with a mixture of urgency and vulnerability. "I've been thinking a lot lately… About… everything. I've been distant… I know, but… I haven't been able to stop thinking about it, Sam… about… before I left… about you… about… us…"

The distant hum of the bunker's generator seemed insignificant compared to the rush of emotions surging through Sam with every word you spoke.

"And I know it sounds crazy… and I know we hardly know each other, so stop me if I'm completely overshooting the mark but… I've missed you… Like really missed you. And I… I can't explain it… I just…"

Your thoughts spiraled, doubts and uncertainties clouding your mind. Am I saying too much? Is this the right time? What if this ruins everything? Your heart pounded with each passing second. You bit your lip, anxious about how Sam would respond.

Sam's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and elation flashing across his face as he heard your confession and the desperation in your voice. His head spun as he clocked the implications of what you were saying, realizing that he had not been making it up at all.

Sam shifted on his bed as his thoughts flooded with memories of you… the passion in your voice as you spoke about your interests… the glint in your eyes when he caught your gaze… the way your face felt in his hands, delicate and stunningly beautiful… the taste of your lips… your body against his…

He yearned to touch you, to hold you, to reassure you that he felt it too; this magnetic attraction and burning desire that had sparked the moment he laid eyes on you. He felt it in his bones.

I need to tell her… Sam's thoughts echoed with urgency, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his bedsheet.

He cut in, a stark determination lacing his voice. "It's not crazy… At least, if it is, then I am crazy too…" He exhaled frantically. "I've missed you too, Y/N… So fucking much. Every single day. I can't get you out of my fucking head." He spoke earnestly, his words coursing through you as he breathed out a laugh of relief.

There was a heavy pause as you took in his words, the urgency in his voice.

"Really?" you tremble.

"Yes, really," Sam chuckled, feeling a knot of tension unwind as he spoke his mind.

A sigh escaped your lips, your shoulders relaxing as Sam reciprocated your feelings. A weight lifted off your chest, but your stomach was alive with nervous excitement.

You pause for a breath, gathering your thoughts. "Well… I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner…"

Sam sighed. "I am too…"

You lingered, the tension between you now sparkling with a newfound hope, connection, and…desire.

Sam breathed softly down the line, his words bringing goosebumps to your skin. "I wish I could be there with you…"

You sighed, the longing unmistakable in your voice. "I wish you were too…"

"When can I see you?" Sam's voice held a hint of desperation.

"Tomorrow too soon…?" you suggested, not even joking.

Sam chuckled. "Not soon enough."

You let out a soft laugh, a blend of joy and nervous anticipation swirling within you, making it difficult to form a coherent response.

"When does your flight land? I'll be there…"

"Sam, you don't need to—"

"—Oh, I do." Sam interjected, determination lacing his words as his voice dropped to a low, longing whisper. "I need you, Y/N. So bad."

Your breath hitched, a rush of emotions overwhelming you as you shivered at his words, and the silent sentiments that laced them.

You trembled, your voice betraying the emotions you struggled to contain. "I'll… I'll send you the details…"

"I'll be there," Sam assured firmly.

"Okay," you breathed, feeling a sudden rush of submission at the authority in his voice.

A thick pause lingered, before Sam's voice cut through the undeniable tension, carrying an unmistakable tone of arousal and longing.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then…"

You chuckled lightly, sensing the heat in his words. "Yes… yes you will…"

A breathy laugh escaped Sam down the line. His voice oozed desire, his thoughts wandering to places he knew he shouldn't dwell. "Sleep tight, Y/N…"

You breathed shakily, feeling the charged energy between you through the line. "I will now…"

You sensed his smile, his voice warm as he finally bid you "goodnight."

---

YOU

With a shaky sigh, you put your phone down and nestled back into the comfort of your bed, a faint smile gracing your lips as adrenaline coursed through your blood.

Despite your weariness, you were unable to shake this newfound energy. Anticipation bubbled within you as your mind raced with thoughts of Sam, imagining what tomorrow would bring.

You turned on your side, clutching the duvet, and squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for sleep to claim you. But it was not your time.

…'I missed you too Y/N'…

Sam's words played on repeat in your mind as you clutched the duvet to your chest.

…'So fucking much'…

Heat rose to the surface of your skin as you tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable.

…'I can't get you out of my fucking head'…

Goosebumps appeared as your sweat cooled, covering your body from head to toe, aching to be warmed away.

This is useless, you thought, as you rolled, fighting against your bedsheets.

You finally settled on your back and exhaled deeply, moving your hand from its vice grip on the duvet to rest on your abdomen.

…'Not soon enough'…

You slid your hand lower, your fingers tracing below your stomach. God help me…

…'I need you, Y/N. So bad'…

He needs me…? I need him. Right now.

Your fingers slipped below the waistband of your underwear, then further… a bit further…

You held your breath as you dipped your finger into your molten core.

You found yourself completely soaked—pure liquid.

Fucking hell… I am definitely going to have to go to that confessional, you thought, as you held your breath, trailing a finger through your slick.

You let out a shaky breath, relieving your body of tension, as you slip your fingers up and down your inner folds, coating yourself in your own juices before you begin to trace circles around your sensitive clit, humming softly—your fingers smooth and dripping.

You closed your eyes, continuing to rub circles around your now swollen clit, silently wishing your fingers were Sam's.

You imagined what it would feel like, for his strong long fingers to glide against you, slippy and silken against your aching pussy, hot, wet and desperate for his touch.

You slipped a finger inside of your hot, aching walls, kicking out of your underwear and sleep shorts in a haste.

Now unrestrained by your clothing, you spread your thighs wider, shifting your hips to reach a deeper angle as you curled your finger upwards, towards that sensitive spot. Sam wouldn't have this trouble, you thought. His fingers could reach areas that I've never been able to reach… and those lips… that tongue, so soft and skilled against your mouth, your neck… You longed to know what they could you to you elsewhere.

You slipped in another finger as you picked up the pace, the sounds emerging from you completely obscene, turning you on even more than you already were.

You palmed your clit as you fucked yourself with your fingers, the spiraling coil of pleasure inside you starting to come undone.

Your other hand reached for your breast and you pinched your hard nipple between your thumb and forefinger and rolled.

You pinched harder, imagining what it would feel like to have your nipple between Sam's teeth.

You thought back to that night, on your sofa… Sam underneath you, hardening against you…

You added a third finger to your core, wishing it was Sam's cock that was stretching you out.

You thrummed your sensitive spot rhythmically, imagining what it would feel like for Sam's cock to be fucking you into pure bliss.

Your breaths grew shallow as you turned your face into your pillow to obscure your breathy moans, trying your best to keep quiet.

Your muffled moans vibrated into the pillow as you continued to stimulate your g-spot, curling your fingers, stroking yourself closer to the edge.

You longed for Sam's hand over your mouth, around your neck, telling you to be quiet whilst he did everything in his power to make sure you weren't.

Dear fucking god, I am going to hell.

The spiral in you unwound even further, causing you to squeeze your legs together, aching for more friction.

You withdrew your fingers to focus on your clit, allowing your legs to squeeze closer together.

A wave of pleasure washed towards you and you tried to catch it, squirming against the ripple pulsing through you, desperately begging for that relief you craved.

You missed it. Shit…

Another wave of pleasure rose to meet you.

It washed away. Fuck, no, please…

…'I need you Y/N'…

Sam's voice echoed in your head.

A tide surged towards you as you assaulted your throbbing clit.

You squeezed your thighs tighter, crushing your hand between your legs.

…'So bad'…

You caught it.

You clamped your legs together completely, riding that wave of pleasure all the way into your climax.

You writhed, as your orgasm wrung you out; legs trembling, chest heaving, dopamine flooding your nervous system.

You gasped, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, and with one last strained exhale, you finally relaxed into the mattress, your crushed, wrinkled fingers falling to your side.

You finally catch your breath, coming down from your high, contemplating how Sam had managed to get you off, despite being a world away.

Jesus fucking Christ. If that's the orgasm you can have just from thinking of Sam, what the hell would it be like to actually fuck him? Fuck.

You lay there for a few minutes, feeling like jelly as you slowly recover from your post-orgasm high.

Once grounded, you rolled to your side, swinging your legs out of the bed and padded towards your bathroom to clean yourself up.

As you emerged from the bathroom, the faint buzz of your phone echoed in the quiet room. Your steps muffled against the carpet, carrying you towards your bed where your phone screen illuminated a simple message:

[Sam Winchester] "Don't forget to send me those details, will you? X"

A grin slowly tugged at the corners of your lips, a blush rising to your cheeks. Slipping under the covers, you opened the airline app to check your flight details and quickly tapped out a response to Sam, confirming your flight number and landing time. He replies almost immediately.

[Sam Winchester] "Thanks xx"

[Y/N Y/L/N] "No problem xx"

[Sam Winchester] "Why you still up?xx"

You blush.

[Y/N Y/L/N] "Can't sleep xx"

[Sam Winchester] "How come?xx"

[Y/N Y/L/N] "Thinking…of you xx"

You bit your lip as you pressed send.

[Sam Winchester] Sam is typing... ... Sam is typing... ... Sam is typing... "Same here xx" Sam is typing... "You should sleep though. You'll need all the sleep you can get for tomorrow xx"

Omg. You giggled. Can he mean…? You flush. You decided to feign innocence.

[Y/N Y/L/N] "Oh yeah? Why's that?xx"

[Sam Winchester] Sam is typing… ... Sam is typing... "Long travel day? 😉 xx"

Fuck. You see right through him. He does.

Your mind raced, trying to think of a witty reply but came up blank.

[Y/N Y/L/N] "I could say the same for you… You'll need all your energy for all that driving you'll be doing 😇 xx"

[Sam Winchester] "Touché, Dr 😉 But seriously, get some sleep, I'll see you at the arrivals gate xx"

[Y/N Y/L/N] "Yes Sir 😉 xx"

A mischievous smile crept onto your face as your thumb hovered over 'send'. You pressed it, a wave of lust overriding your logical brain. I may regret that, you thought, but your grin lingered.

[Sam Winchester] Sam is typing… ... Sam is typing… ... "Sweet dreams, Princess 👑xx"

Your brain screamed. Right call, right call!! But fuck, you were getting no sleep tonight.

Chapter 9

#sam winchester x reader #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #supernatural #history on your side #sam winchester #spn #x reader #dean winchester #ao3 writer #sam winchester x you #the vampire diaries #tvd x reader

[ithebookhoarder]

Hi there! I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could request an Obi Wan x Fem! Reader based on the song Dont Blame Me by Taylor Swift? Completely feel free to go whatever way you want with it but I love me some angst and fluff and a dash of smut but I trust you!

If you can do this that would be wonderful!

Have a lovely day! 💞

Don't Blame Me, Love Made Me Crazy (Obi-wan Kenobi x AFAB!Reader)

Summary: There are no lengths Obi wouldn’t go to, to keep you and Leia safe from the Inquisitors. However, there’s more at stake than Obi initially realised - if the extra life he’s sensed inside of you is anything to go by.

A/N: Well ain't this the national anthem for most of the Star Wars characters 😅. I love Taylor and this song, so this request was a joy! Thanks for sending it @supertoastrisesagain, and for allowing me to ramble on even after the show is done for my favourite desert hermit.

Warnings: Mention of death, swearing, references to violence, references to torture, references to smut, mentions of pregnancy

Masterlist

If you’d have told yourself a week ago that this is where you’d end up, you’d have never have believed it. Even now it felt like some kind of fever dream you’d soon wake from. 

Only a few days ago you had been living your lives in the desert of Tatooine, minding your business and working as a farmhand, but now? Now, you were escaping the Inquisitor’s Base, with your husband and Leia Organa in tow, having discovered that Anakin wasn’t dead and that there was a secret rebellion dedicated to smuggling Jedis to safety… 

It was a lot to get your head around. 

Maker only knew what was going through the ten year old’s mind, given all she had seen since she’d been abducted from her home world a few days prior. Then again, the whole ordeal seemed to have finally taken its toll on the young princess, given the way she had fallen asleep the moment the ship had breached the planet’s atmosphere. 

It was probably the adrenaline wearing off, as well as the comfort of knowing you were safe for now that allowed her eyes to grow heavy, and her head to fall against your chest. 

During take off, Leia had been sat beside you, asking a thousand and one questions about everything that had happened. She had also reached over, linking her hand with your husband’s - as if trying to prove he was really here. 

It was a feeling you shared, having thought for one terrible moment that he had perished… that the Third Sister was right when she said he had been killed by Ana- Darth Vader. 

Yet he was alive. 

He’d rescued you - both of you - and you were now free once again to try and finish the mission to return Leia to Alderaan. 

You knew without using the force that your husband was utterly exhausted… an emotional and physical wreck, whose emotional wounds had been torn open again after so long… 

Ever since you’d taken off, he had simply taken a seat and stared at the wall ahead. The only sign he wasn’t some statue was the steady motion of him brushing his thumb over Leia’s knuckles over and over as she dropped off to sleep in your lap. 

The sight made your heart ache. 

He was so soft with her, so tender in a way that he hadn’t been with anyone other than you for years. Although it wasn’t hard to guess why the young princess had awoken something inside of him. 

She was so like her mother - and father. 

Seeing her was both incredible, and soul destroying, as you once again felt the loss of two of your dearest friends. It was like someone had driven a knife into you and continued to twist the blade… Ten years on, or ten minutes, it made no difference. 

For instance, back in the market on Daiyu, when Obi had been explaining your cover story for your time on the planet, you’d felt a sense of deja vu. 

He’d seemed so calm and composed as he tried to explain that - if anyone asked - you were farmers, and Leia his daughter. 

“Granddaughter, maybe,” she’d whispered under her breath, but you’d heard her loud and clear - a fact made obvious by the laugh you failed to mask as a cough. 

Obi had sighed but wisely chose not to say anything, other than a casual ‘what?’ causing Leia to grin up at you. 

“Oh, nothing.” 

It was as if Anakin himself had been there with that sass and his ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ smile. 

You had also seen Padmé in her, as she had faced down the inquisitor as she blocked your escape and brought you to the hellish fortress you’d just escaped from. 

“You can’t do this. I am Bail Organa’s daughter - a princess of Alderaan, and she’s my friend! Let us go!”

Leia had been feral, biting, kicking, screaming - refusing to tell them anything… even when you were being interrogated. 

You knew how much it had pained her, to see you suffering, as the Third Sister took out her anger on you, trying to pry the location of the path. However, as long as she didn’t touch Leia, then it was worth it. 

You would take any pain to keep her safe. Just as you’d have done anything to keep your husband safe, had you not been tasked with trying to get Leia off of the planet through the tunnels.

You’d wanted to turn back, to go after him, but Tala had been insistent - saying the risk was too great for you both to be out there. Instead, she had offered to help guide him to you and the escape ship. 

Yet, they never made it, and you had been captured - a failure all round. 

Thinking Obi had perished, even for a moment, had been enough to make you feel like you were dying…  Even now, it was hard to convince yourself that this was all real - that he had survived and come to rescue you. 

As if sensing your distress, the young princess whimpered in your arms, her dreams clearly turning sour. 

“It’s alright, Leia… you’re safe now,” you cooed, brushing a lock of hair off of her face. 

To her credit, she settled again relatively easily, nestling closer into your embrace. The frown lines she had, disappeared instantly, replaced with an ease you envied. 

To her this had started out as some adventure … having never left her home planet, everything was new and exciting whilst also terrifying. Yet, she’d met each and every obstacle with such fire and spirit and courage… 

You wiped at your eye, choking back the tears that had threatened to fall all day. You knew you couldn’t let them - not until you were safely out of sight. Otherwise you would have had to explain them away and you didn’t know if you could… 

Even now, you said a silent prayer to the maker that Leia continued to sleep so soundly. 

It was too surreal. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about her over the years, but it wasn’t the same as seeing her… rationalising your expectations with the reality… 

Leia was a real, living, human being - with her own personality and hopes and dreams and fears… it was too much to take in. 

What would Padmé have said if she could see her? 

Would she forgive you for the choices you had been forced to make? 

For separating her children and hiding the truth from them? 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, even though you knew she couldn’t hear you. “We’ll keep her safe. I promise.” 

A part of you also mourned the reality where you would have been there for Leia and Luke, watching Anakin and Padmé raising them… teaching them… being a part of their lives as a family- maybe even starting one of your own. 

Then again, that reality wasn’t entirely beyond your reach. Not when you and Obi had been less than celibate since the collapse of the Jedi Order… even now, the irony seemed too much, to have just had Leia and Luke come into your lives, as you faced the possibility of starting a family of your own. 

You’d known for almost a week now, that your lack of monthly bleeds wasn’t a result of the stress of being on the move. That your nausea and occasional dizziness weren’t just a mixture of exhaustion and lack of regular meals. 

You’d sensed the truth long before you’d gone into town to seek a healer - who’d only confirmed what you already suspected; you were pregnant. Two months along, by her reckoning. 

What were you going to do? 

“These things happen in their own time,” the healer had explained, noticing your shock. After all, it had been years and whilst you’d never been actively trying there had been many opportunities for you to have fallen with child before. Why now? “Couples can go years without conceiving and then, one day, they are blessed. It is the Maker’s will.” 

If that was the case then you had more than a few choice words for the Maker, given the ever growing list of sins they had to account for. 

It was a cruel cosmic joke, just as this whole entire week had been. Between the Inquisitors, the lone Jedi finding you both, Bail’s appearance, discovering Anakin was alive… and now this? It was all too much. 

You hadn’t hide time to think, let alone decide what to say or do about it - a blessing and a curse in disguise. 

“She’s finally out.” You spoke softly, trying to see if your husband was back with you, or still lost to the torment inside of him. 

To your relief, he nodded. “So I can see.” 

His smile was instantaneous, yet lined with a pain that seemed to radiate from him. It hung about him like a dark cloud, just as it had all day. 

You wished you could do something to help him but there was nothing you could do, other than holding a hand out for him in invitation. To your relief, he accepted, allowing you to pull him closer beside you.

He tucked you both under his arm, letting you rest your head against him in a move that was all too familiar. You’d lost count of how many times you’d fallen asleep against him like this, usually returning on a ship from some mission for the council - a lifetime ago now.    

“She clearly likes you.” 

You smirked. “You think so?”

“Yes, far more so than me, I fear.” 

“Oh, hush,” you scoffed. “She likes you. You can see it in her eyes when she looks at you, just like with all the younglings whenever you used to walk into a room. It used to drive me mad, whenever I was trying to teach them and in you came, disrupting the class and distracting them- The great legend himself. Though, you can hardly blame them. You were always so good with them, so kind and patient and willing to listen to whatever they had to say. They worshipped you.” 

Your voice trailed off as memories began to resurface, a haze of nostalgia creeping back in. You knew that and your hormones were to blame as tears threatened to once again escape you, but you couldn’t share that detail. Not yet, anyway. 

Not until this was over and Leia was safely back on Alderaan. Then, you’d wait until you and Obi-wan were safe again to tell him about the change of plans for your future. 

At least this whole experience had been good for one thing, and that was proving that you and Obi-wan could keep up with a child. Sure, the parenting thing would probably take longer to master but so far it seemed a good indication that you’d both eventually get there. 

Although, if your child was even half as spirited as Leia, you’d be both completely grey before they hit their 10th birthday… but blessed all the same. 

“You also saw her face back there, Ben,” you whispered. “When we thought you were gone, well, she looked broken. We both were. Yet, when you came, she looked so happy to see you again.” 

“I don’t know why, considering all I do is bring danger with me,” he grumbled darkly, rubbing a hand through his beard. “All of this was a plan to lure me out, meaning this is all my fault. If I had died back on Mustafa, then the Inquisitors would never have even looked her way.” 

“Ben, no-”

“It’s true and you know it.” 

It might have been true, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t deserved to be saved. That the Empire should have been allowed to be victorious without some kind of fight. 

The ferocity in your voice made your view of the matter clear, as did the stern frown you shot his way. “I think you’ll find Vader is the one who actually started all this, turning on the Jedi and setting this whole course of action into motion - so don’t act like you had any choice, Ben. You can’t keep blaming yourself. Please. Your actions helped save Padmé and her children.”  

“But-”

“- and you saved us again, today. You hear me? That’s what counts, and now Leia can go home. She’ll be safe and we can disappear again, back into the shadows where we belong… where we’ll be safe.”

“I don’t deserve you.” 

A weak smile tugged at your lips as you brought his hand close enough to kiss. “I think you’ll find that’s my line, husband dear.”  

“You should get some rest too, whilst we wait. You’ve been through a lot.” 

“And you haven’t?” you scoffed, stopping his self-sacrifice bullshit in its tracks. You could see also see the way he seemed to continue to favour his side, hiding the injuries Tala had said he’d refused to let fully heal before coming to rescue you - stubborn man. “Besides, we’ll be back on Jabeem soon enough and I can sleep when we’re on the ship, heading straight back to Alderaan and away from this.” 

Obi pressed a kiss to your hair. “Let us pray you are right, my love.” 

You could only hope you were. 

---------------------

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

Roken’s words were almost lost in the swirling chaos that followed the fight that had just seen Tala sacrifice herself to protect the people in this room. To protect you and your husband, and the cause that you fought for. 

You could feel tears threatening to escape as you turned to face Obi. The turmoil was rolling off of him in waves, so much so that even Roken had spotted it without using the Force. 

“It’s over.” 

“Obi?” you croaked, taking a half step towards him. You could see the pain and fury brewing inside of him as he tried to calm himself. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, I’m going back.” 

“What?” 

The exclamation from you and Roken overlapped as you stared at the man in disbelief. 

“You can’t quit. I fought for too long,” the fighter continued, somehow regaining his voice when you could not. Instead, you felt ice cold panic washing over you as your husband turned, without so much as a backwards glance, and made as if to walk through the tunnel you’d just escaped from. “You can’t just throw that away. It won’t make a difference. They want all of us.”

“Vader wants me.” 

“If you surrender then she died for nothing.” 

You knew who he spoke of, the loss still fresh even if you had only known her a day or so. Still, in that time, Tala had grown on you, a kindred spirit you knew would have been screaming in protest at what was happening here now.  

“He’ll keep coming.”

“That’s why I have to stop him,” your husband growled. 

“You’re going to fight him?” you choked, trying and failing not to think what had happened the last time he’d tried such a thing. You couldn’t face it again - couldn’t face losing him. Not now. “No, Obi. Think this through-”

“I am,” he sighed, the resignation clear in his voice. He turned, his eyes shimmering as he reached for your hands and squeezed. “He expects me to surrender. He knows I’ll do everything I can to protect these people - to protect you.”

“You’ll be on your own,” Haja interjected, stealing the words from your quivering lips.  

“No.” Your husband’s smile was strained as he turned from you and towards the man who had somehow saved your lives, over and over. You watched as he handed him his lightsaber and communicator, before patting his shoulder. The next words were like a knife to your heart. “Look out for her, will you?” 

You knew he didn’t just mean Leia, up in the wiring ducts, still trying to open the hatch. 

You paled. 

“No.”

Obi-wan didn’t even give you time to begin to protest as he pulled you close and pressed a fierce kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be alright.”

“No! I’m not leaving you.” 

“Haja.” 

His order was clear. 

“Obi, you can’t. Not alone-“

“I have to,” he growled, such pain and vehemence spitting from every syllable that it stunned you. It was probably why Haja was able to follow your husband’s order and take you by the hand, pulling you backwards, allowing your husband to slip from your grip like running water. “He’s come for me. He wants me. If I can buy you all time I must, Y/N. Please… no one else has to suffer. Protect Leia, and yourself… and our baby.” 

The words sucked all the air from your lungs. 

He knew… 

The noise that escape you was half way between a sob of agony, and a laugh of disbelief as you felt something deep inside of you crack. 

“Obi. No.”

Of course he knew. Why wouldn’t he? It was Obi, your husband, your best friend, and the man who had always been too observant, and too in tune with the force for his own good. He’d probably sensed it before you had, even if he hadn’t said anything. 

Was he nervous? Terrified of the reality that awaited him once he acknowledged the life inside of you he’d help create? Or was it that he’d been waiting? Waiting for you to decide about what to do, and how to tell him? 

You had no time to ask questions like that now - Obi had seen to that. Not when every second counted. Not when he had waited till this moment to hit you with the one thing that would possibly persuade you not to claw your way after him like some feral beast. 

As it was, you still struggled against Haja as he tried to pull you away, to hold you back as Obi made his way towards the tunnel door, his hands already lifting in surrender. 

“No… Obi, wait! Don’t do this! We’re a team remember? You promised! You promised me!”

“I’m sorry, my love,” he called, turning and giving you one last watery smile. One that did little to hide the tsunami of emotions roaring behind his eyes. “I love you - be strong. If anything goes wrong, get Leia out of here and back where she belongs.” 

Maybe it was the shock, or maybe Haja was stronger than you’d given him credit for, but somehow he managed to drag you backwards, stumbling over your feet as you tried to break free from him, to run after your husband as he left you to meet whatever fate awaited him outside the doors that were the last line of defence between you and the Empire’s Troops.

“I’m sorry,” Haja mumbled in your ear, but you barely heard him. 

Your knees buckled as your entire world crashed down around you. 

----------------

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” 

Obi-wan had apologised the moment he had returned to you, aboard the transport ship that was now hurrying you away from Jabeem. At the time, the relief you had felt at seeing him had been all-consuming, causing you to run into his arms and bury your tear stained face in his chest. 

The kiss he had given you was desperate - pleading almost, as he wove a hand through your hair and held you tight enough that you knew he’d leave marks. 

You didn’t care. 

All you cared about then was that he was alive. That he was in front of you, able to hurry with both you and Leia onto the only route out of here. 

Thankfully, the deception had worked and you had been able to take off without too much trouble, leaving Vader cursing your names as he watched you slip through the cracks once more. 

But now… as you sat on the transport… the day finally catching up with you all too quickly, and all too intensely, you were trying to resist the urge to scream. 

Or hit him. 

Or do anything really to express the utter terror you had felt when he had so valiantly decided to risk his life to buy you all time. A risk he had not consulted you over.  A risk he had chosen alone, leaving you behind despite the one promise you had made him swear all those years ago… to never leave you… to let you face the world and whatever fate it brought you, together.

Yes, you were now with child, but that didn’t change the fact you should have had a choice. A say. A chance to decide how this ended… 

Well, at least things seemed to have worked out for the best… for now. 

It was that realisation that numbed the hurt long enough for you to crawl into his arms and let him hold you. You were too tired and too relieved to do anything else, a sentiment shared by Leia as she lay by you both, talking with some of the other children on board. 

The sight made your heart ache. 

“So… you know.” 

“About the child?” 

“Yes,” you muttered, feeling the way he stiffened ever so slightly beneath you at the mention of it. You also felt him nod, bending down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “How long?” 

Obi paused. “A few weeks at the most. I merely guessed at first, given your recent symptoms but it was only when I was able to detect the other heartbeat inside of you that I knew for certain.” 

At least you didn’t have to ask how he felt about it all considering the heartfelt plea he’d given you back in the cave. To protect you and his child… he wanted it… wanted you both to live and grow as a family… he had revealed it, even if he was not aware of that fact for himself. 

Still, the way his hand drifted to rest against your abdomen gave you enough cause to believe otherwise. 

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“It wasn’t my news to tell,” he explained quietly. “I knew you would share with me any developments when the time was right, when you were ready to.” 

“Wow. So you do know how to let someone make their own decision, then?”

Obi groaned. “Y/N-”

“I’m furious with you, right now,” you hissed, doing your best not to raise your voice in the confined space. You didn’t need everyone in this ship to know about your situation. “And once this is over, you better expect a lot of yelling… and some crying, and maybe some sulking. I don’t know, I haven’t made my mind up yet. I’m too damn tired, and too damn relieved you’re here, to think properly.” 

A small scoff escaped Obi-wan before he could help it. “Well, thank the Maker for small mercies then.” 

You rolled you eyes and jabbed your elbow into his stomach, though not as hard as you could have. After all, you did still need him in one piece if you were going to see this all through. Whilst it might have felt like you’d run a marathon the past few days, you knew this was far from over. 

Leia still needed to make it home. 

Vader would need to lose your trail. 

And you would need to prepare for the newest addition to your family in a matter of months. 

“Ow?”

“Whimp,” you teased, trying not to laugh at the pout he shot you. He really did make it hard to stay mad at him for long. 

After all, you’d seen what Anakin’s love for Padmé and his unborn children had done to him. The love had consumed him, warping him into something unhinged and feral and full of fear. 

And no one had been able to help him… to stop him from destroying the very thing he’d tried to protect. There had been too many obstacles in the way and the guilt had haunted you both since. 

No wonder Obi had acted how he had today; he’d had a chance to save you. To protect you. 

Love was a powerful thing. It made people do crazy things and Obi-wan loved deeply. He always had, and it was why you’d been so quick to love him in return. 

He made it so easy to love him, even though it meant you were vulnerable. That you’d risked losing everything over and over … but you couldn’t have imagined having it any other way - not even for a second. 

Was it any wonder the Jedi had feared it enough to ban attachments altogether?

You sighed as the realisation hit you. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied softly, cradling you close. “And I’m sorry… for all of it, all of this. I wish things were different but they’re not, and I cannot - will not - risk losing you. I know that means I broke my promise today, but you cannot tell me you wouldn’t have done the same, had our roles been reversed?”

“…No. I wouldn’t.”

“Well then, you understand,” he murmured, “and once we make it out of here you can yell and be as angry with me as you like, and I’ll bear it, because it means you’re alive. That you’re alright.” 

“Deal,” you smirked. 

With that, you turned so that you could kiss your husband - and the father of your unborn child - properly. After all, you did have a lot to be grateful for, and you’d learned a long time ago not to take miracles for granted. They were often few and far between, yet this week the universe had granted you several. 

And the greatest miracle of all? Well, that one existed inside of you, intertwined with the life that was growing there.

Hope. 

#obi wan kenobi #Obi-Wan Kenobi #obi wan #obi wan x reader #obi-wan X reader #obi-wan x you #obi-wan kenobi x you #Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi-wan show #star wars #Star Wars x reader #masterlist #ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #Ewan McGregor #Anakin Skywalker #Princess Leia #leia organa #obi wan series #Obi-Wan Kenobi show

[axlsrxses]

𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔, axl rose

pairing: axl rose x sofia moreno (fem!oc)

requested: yes/no

synopsis: in which sofia feels self-conscious over her relationship with axl and all of the tabloids.

warnings: fluff, sl*t-shaming, swearing, mentions & references of alcohol.

word count: 1.46k

𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟭𝟵𝟴𝟳

the rain hammered down against the clouded window as sofia lay peacefully on her bed watching her favourite show, the golden girls. the past week at work had taken a toll on her and seeing how the tabloids described her and her relationship just made things a whole lot worse for the girl.

for four long months, axl had been touring the united states, promoting the band’s debut album and opening for bands like; the cult, iron maiden and mötley crüe. and although sofia was proud of her boyfriend and the rest of the band, all she wanted was to lay with her head on his lap as he played with her hair…the one thing that could calm her.

suddenly, an echo of loud cheers sounded from outside of her window, quickly followed by a small tap against the bedroom window. taking a deep breath, sofia reluctantly rose to her feet and made her way towards the window, her mind racing. it wouldn’t be the first time that fans or the paparazzi broke onto their property to get some behind the scenes photos, in fact this would be the fifth time in four months.

“babe, open the door!” axl’s familiar voice seemed to bounce through the still closed window. “we’re getting bloody drenched out here!”

letting out a long sigh of relief, sofia quickly made her way down the stairs, opening the front door to see four slightly wet guys standing in front of her, smiles stretched across each of their faces. before she could react, the four boys clambered through the doorway, wrapping their arms tightly around the much shorter girl and pulling her close against their soaked clothing.

“you guys suck!” sofia squeaked, brushing off the droplets of water from her skin as the guys stepped back. “i just had a shower!”

“and you didn’t invite me?” slash smirked mischievously, slowly wrapping his arms around the petite girl’s waist.

“in your dreams, hudson.” the younger girl smiled innocently, pushing the taller guy back. “only one of you guys is joining me in the shower.”

letting a smirk spread across his face, axl stepped towards the shorter girl, wrapping his arms around her and gently kissing the top of her head. the last four months had been hell without his girl beside him. she kept him grounded during his emotional outbreaks and was always there to look out for him whenever he decided to indulge in a night of endless drinking.

you see, when the band announced they would be touring for sixteen months, sofia was beyond happy for them and even offered to travel around with them…that was until the papers got a hold of some secret photos, showing her and slash jokingly messing around with one another and blew it completely out of proportion, labelling her as ‘the slut of the 80s’.

“get a room.” duff gagged, making sure to emphasise on the disgusting sound.

rolling her eyes at duff’s remark, sofia subtly flipped the much taller off before placing her hands on top of axl’s. she was happy he was home, ecstatic even, but she couldn’t help but think of all the dehumanising words that had been pinned next to her name in the tabloids and all the rumours that circulated around their very private relationship.

“who is ready to get completed fucked?” steven cheered, breaking the silence as he threw his arms into the air and walked into the living room, knowing exactly where to find the best alcohol in the house.

∙∘☽༓☾∘∙

a few hours had passed since the band had arrived to surprised sofia and no matter how many shots she had, she couldn’t shake the tabloids from her mind. of course she knew that her relationship with axl was as perfect as it could be and that nothing was going on between her and any of the other band mates, besides the occasional flirting, but she was worried about the way it would affect her business.

at the age of seventeen, sofia became the sole owner of her family’s restaurant after both her parents became too sick to carry on working. the ‘arco dorado’, or the ‘golden bow’ when translates to english, was a celebrity hotspot when it came to spanish food.

having left the four guys in the “party room”, sofia stood silently in front of the living room window, looking out at the rain bouncing against the many puddles.

“you’ve been quiet since we came home.” axl spoke suddenly, resting his chin against her shoulder as he looked at her. “what happened?”

“it’s nothing.” sofia shrugged, her eyes fixed on the raindrops running down the window. “go and have fun with the guys, i’ll be fine.”

it was never nothing and axl knew that. as bad as it sounded, he was grateful that sofia wasn’t someone who expressed her sad emotions a lot. it brought back a lot of memories for him that he found hard to cope with but he hated when she closed herself off completely, especially when he knew something was eating away at her slowly.

“don’t do this to me, fi.” axl sighed frustratedly, stepping back from his girlfriend as she turned round to face him. “don’t push me away.”

“i’m not pushing you away. i’m telling you to enjoy yourself.” sofia retorted, crossing her arms as she watched axl’s facial expression tense up.

“is this about those fucking tabloids?!” axl questioned, his voice rising slightly before noticing sofia flinch at the sound of him yelling. “please just talk to me.”

maybe it was the miserable weather outside or the way that she felt about axl finally being home but sofia couldn’t stay strong anymore. four months of pushing her feelings down was long enough, all because she was worried about photographers seeing her cry and spinning another story of lies and deceit.

noticing some tears escaping sofia’s eyes, axl quickly jolted forward, pulling the petite girl into his arms as he felt her body shake against his.

axl hated the tabloids, he hated the paparazzi and most of all, he hated the way both of those things made sofia feel. when the duo had got together in 1985, everything was perfect for them. the band’s music was starting to take off and photographers loved to snap photos of the young couple in love and always made sure to compliment sofia on her looks, but that photo with slash was what changed everything.

“sof, look at me.” axl spoke quietly, using his hand to raise sofia’s head. “fuck the tabloids.”

“i can’t just pretend that i don’t see what people are saying about me, ax.” sofia sighed, more tears silently escaping her eyes. “everyone thinks i’m some slut that is sleeping with slash behind your back.”

“i know, baby.” axl sighed, lifting his hand up and wiping away the tears from her cheek. “but you’re none of the things that they say you are. you’re the kindest and most beautiful girl i have ever met and i wish that you could see yourself like we do.”

his words were true. axl thought sofia was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. he loved the way her blue eyes glistened like the ocean in the sun and how her light brown hair always seemed to shine a beautiful shade of caramel. he had fallen in love with her the first time he met her and ever since that hectic night, he made it his priority to cherish and love her.

“i’m just scared that one of these days you’ll see something that you don’t like and you’ll believe them.” sofia mumbled, her voice cracking as she began anxiously picking at the skin around her freshly painted nails. “i don’t wanna lose you, ax.”

hearing the pain in her voice was enough to send axl spiralling. since the beginning of the band, he had never had good interactions with the paparazzi, often losing his temper and erupting into fights with them, but to see how they made the girl of his dreams feel about herself and their relationship, axl wasn’t so sure how far he would go to protect her.

“you’re my girl, sofia, and my girl only. not slash’s, not duff’s. your mine.” axl smiled kindly, his hand rested against her flushed cheek. “i will always love you.”

leaning forward, axl placed a gentle and loving kiss against her lips, feeling a small smile forming as he pulled away.

“i really love you.” sofia smiled, wiping away the last tears that had rolled down her cheek. “like a lot.”

“i love you too, mija.” axl chuckled, wrapping his arms around her once more and holding her close to him.

#guns n roses #axl rose #slash hudson #duff mckagan #steven adler #izzy stradlin #the 1980s #motley crue #iron maiden #axl rose imagine

[outofangband]

☾ ■ (for the ask game you reblogged!)

From this headcanon ask game here! Still accepting them! I hope it’s ok that I chose Morwen for these!

I got another sleep headcanon ask without a character that I’ll probably do Aerin for! I’ve done lots of Maedhros and sleep headcanons for this game though one can always request more, for him or anyone else

Sleep headcanon(s)

I focused on post Nírnaeth here but I also have lots of thoughts on how Morwen’s sleep is affected after the Bragollach!

-Morwen’s sleep is severely disrupted post Nírnaeth. She’s always been a light sleeper but she will wake at any sound or change around her and probably be unable to fall back asleep, even when she’s certain that there is no danger. She has no sleep schedule then. Most nights she’s up, doing whatever work she can or just pacing and keeping watch. (Morwen sees riders stray near occasionally though she knows they are often close by even when she cannot see them) She never knows whether or not to look at them. Will her household be in more danger if they know she’s watching or if they think she’s ignorant of their presence) During the day she might sleep for a few hours if she’s lucky.

-Exhaustion, like hunger, becomes so ever present that she does not pay it any mind. And like hunger it takes a toll on her even when she feels used to it. Morwen knows this of course. She has seen people starve to death or collapse from exertion, unable to stand again. But there is no remedy for it and so she will choose the dangerous and false comfort of becoming used to it over the ever present distress of noticing.

-Dreams about Húrin or Rían or Aerin, even non nightmares, always make her feel worse.

-Morwen would stay up all night with baby Niënor trying to keep her calm, frightened each time that if she woke suddenly and began screaming, as babies often do, that might be the time that gets her discovered.

-Even in Doriath it takes weeks, even months for her to be able to sleep through the night. With more sleep, her nightmares become worse again.

Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

-The room Morwen shared with Húrin cannot be preserved. What items of value there are are stolen, sold or traded. Other objects are repurposed to replace or mend elsewhere in the home.

-She and Niënor and a few others spend many nights in the great hall when it is cold and there is not enough wood to light fires in multiple rooms.

-Morwen never gets used to her quarters in Doriath. They never truly feel like hers. I think that any semblance of safety and comfort would be all but impossible to process and accept. She keeps them clean and organized and does not set out any of her (extremely limited) belongings. When Morwen leaves and does not come back, she leaves no trace of her presence in her rooms.

I love her so much! Thank you for the ask!

#the silmarillion #Morwen #the children of húrin #not my best Morwen content I’m sorry #musing and meta