#this is. a reminder for me. bc i NEED IT!!!
— “Do you eat pussy like that?”
☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader
☀︎ — summary: you’re ovulating, insanely horny and thinking about putting your hands down his pants in the middle of the cafeteria
☀︎ — warnings: smut, nsfw, public display of affection, Azriel is a little stern, like a tiny bit, pussy eating, riding, ovulation
☀︎ — amara’s note: this was so fun to write, i love freaky bimbo reader, she’s so fun. also very realistic bc i too would wanna put my hands in azriel’s pants. and don’t mind the fact that this is complete nonsense. idk wtf is happening💗
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You should’ve known azriel was an eater.
Whenever he ate, he did it like he was out of breath, inhaling his food and munching on it. He did this thing where he’d lean over his plate, shuffle food into his mouth, head tilting a little to the left, eyes closed and everything. It reminded you of the way he tilted his head when he kissed you.
He ate with such need and energy that you couldn’t help the dirty thoughts in your little brain. But it’s not even your fault, it’s his. Who the hell eats like he does?
You can't help but giggle whenever you watch Azriel eat, finding it very cute that he devours his food. It’s like, he really loves his meals, you know?
But then you remembered last night when you jumped on him while he was working on his computer. He looked so cute and focused, but his hands... so fucking hot, they looked so good. Like, seriously, how can hands be so attractive? Maybe it was the ring, maybe it was the bracelet or maybe it was because you wanted to gag on them.
You knew you were ovulating, it was no surprise. You basically turn into a succubus, hellbent on getting slutted and fucked. Azriel is there, so naturally you want him to take care of it.
I mean, who else could help you? Getting off yourself is so much work and doesn’t feel nearly as good as when he does it.
“Azzie, i missed you sosososooo much!!” you strolled towards him with a massive smile. Azriel turned around at the sound of your pink, fluffy heels klicking against the cafeteria floor.
He gave you the kindest smile as you approached him, lifting his arm so you have room to lean against him. You had different classes in the morning, so you met him for lunch. you sit next to him, scooting as close as you can. If you could, you’d sit on top of him but you were in the cafeteria so you had to settle for leaning with your face nuzzled against his neck.
There he was, eating like he always did. But today, you couldn’t stop your thoughts. He was eating too good. You wanted to tell him, so you did.
“Hi, my sweet girl. I hope you had a good lecture. What do you want to do after classes?”
You sighed. You were dangerously horny, it was a miracle you didn’t put your hand down his pant, honestly.
“Hmm, I wanna be fingered, i want my pussy ate then i wanna be fucked for hours, pretty please?” you mumbled against his neck, kissing and licking a stripe.
Azriel started coughing, nearly choking on his food.
“And, uh, another thing. D’ya eat pussy like that?” you asked with hope, a french tip pointing to his plate.
“Oh my god, uh — okay, so, baby, you — you can’t just say stuff like that in public, okay?” he exclaimed, his cheeks flushing as he glanced around nervously.
“Why not? I want my boyfriend, there's no shame in it!” you declared, pursing your glossed lips, with your hands folded over your half-exposed tits.
Azriel nervously glanced around as you put a leg over his thigh. “Please help me, i’ll totally die if you don’t.”
“Okay, sure, but why are you so — um, frisky?" Azriel asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. A nervousness that increased as you pressed your tits against him.
“I don’t know what that means.” You replied, tilting your head slightly in confusion, your ditzy demeanor showing through.
“Um, sexually charged,” Azriel tried to explain, his hands moving mid-air in an attempt to convey his meaning.
“I’m ovulating, Azzie. aka i need you inside, like right in this moment — like in this second, now.” your nail tapped quickly against the dining hall’s table, a sign of your impatience. “Please stop talking nonsense, i don’t know about sexually charged, m’just horny.”
“Right, right. I read about that. Okay, let’s go. Do you want my dorm or your apartment?” Azriel questioned as he stood up, lifting you from the bench.
That little move of him lifting you without hesitation or struggle made your jaw drop. Your hands automatically moved towards his belt, and a sweet expression crossed your face as you stared up at him, completely flustered.
“Yours.”
Azriel stopped you before you could bend down and blow him infront of people. He led you by the hand, your thoughts completely cleared, except for one thought.
You were SO gonna get it.
—
He’s so gentle. The way the flat of his tongue drags between your folds is ungodly to stay the least, the lewd squelching of his tongue flicking your glistening, throbbing clit.
“You okay? Holy shit you weren’t lying, you’re incredibly wet,” his fingers come to touch you, almost slipping in with no difficulty.
“mm-yeah, m’so good. J’st keep your mouth riiiight there,” you hummed, dragging his head back as you shifted his head a little to the left. He inserted one finger, then added another before curling them, just like he was taught.
You felt his tongue press against your clit at the same time, your hands gripping his shoulders in order to not writhe away.
“ ‘s really s-sensitive, ‘nd it feels so, so good, az.” He flushes, cheeks reddened at your sweet, whines and moans.
“so sweet.. you’re so sweet, baby.” he doesn’t stop when he speaks. instead, he continues to lap at your cunt, his face evidently beginning to get wet from the mix of your slick and his saliva.
It’s so messy, but he’s loving every second of it even when your juices wet his chin and entire mouth. You’re so close to sliding off his bed with the way you’re writhing away. But it’s like you have to! If he keeps his work up, you’ll cum all over his face in seconds.
“Stop tryna run away, you haven’t even finished yet.” He drags you closer to him by your thighs as he locks his arm around your legs.
“A—azzie! s-slow down, ‘m gon-gonna cum too quick if you keep goin’.”
He doesn’t slow down, and he definitely doesn’t stop. Instead you feel his tongue lap your cunt as he sneakily bring his hand up to your clit rubbing it softly.
When you cum, he just moves you on top of him with no warning. You had been begging to ride, whining about how you’d feel fuller if you were on top. As much as Azriel loves you, your whining was making him wanna check you.
“There. Now will you be good and ride? Hm?” He squeezes your waist as you put your hands on his toned stomach with a smile.
“Mm-hm, I’ll ride.”
Azriel is left damn near paralyzed after. He is sweating, trembling, dying.
You on the other hand couldn’t possibly be more content. He had given you a good dicking :)
🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @scoobies @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @berryzxx @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria @hannzoaks @throneofsmut
if ur username is in bold, i couldn’t tag you ;(
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obsessed • pg10 ੈ✩‧₊˚
ੈ✩‧₊˚ pairings || pierre gasly x girlfriend!reader
ੈ✩‧₊˚ genre || social media au
ੈ✩‧₊˚ summary || inspired by olivia rodrigo’s obsessed. reader is pierre’s new girlfriend who happens to be a pop-star who can’t shake off this obsession she has with his ex.
alt. y/n is obsessed with pierre's ex.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ warning || jealousy? reference to pierre & kika as exes, reader is kind of crazy
ੈ✩‧₊˚ a/n || psa. i love kika so no hate!!!
liked by pierregasly, charles_leclerc, and 109,082 others
yourusername kisses <3
tagged pierregasly
pierregasly mon amour ❤️
⤷ yourusername mon cœur ❤️
username18 awww i love them sm
username1 last photo is sawr cute
alexandrasaintmleux charles has a picture just like that
⤷ yourusername ofc he does 🙄
⤷ charles_leclerc ?!?
⤷ pierregasly don’t be embarrassed calamari 😉
username73 does she remind anyone else of kika?
⤷ username14 i agree! like her vibes are so similar and even the photos she takes w pierre remind me of kika and pierre
⤷ username36 yeah she’s an international popstar and kika is a glorified influencer… so similar liked by yourusername
⤷ username2 no need to hate on kika, she’s a really popular model but i agree they aren’t the same
⤷ username36 y/n liked my comment?! and then unliked 😭
gracieabrams cutie pie
liked by yourusername, username17, and 17,092 others
f1couxples missing our favourite couple 💔
tagged pierregasly, francisca.cgomes
username13 they were so perfect why did they have to break up?!
username64 he’s in a relationship!!! get over it, u don’t know these people!
username18 they’ve both moved on lol
username91 everybody moved on… i stayed here
username83 i’m deadddd not y/n accidentally liking 😭
⤷ username77 hahahah this isn’t even the first time like girl u are not beating the stalking pierre’s tags allegations
⤷ username35 i reckon she stalks kika’s tags actually 😭 there’s been times she’s liked kika fan acc posts by accident bahahahah
⤷ username9 she’s so feral,, pierre literally left kika for her and she’s still acting like this
⤷ username61 you’d think she was in love w HER and not pierre
liked by yourusername, lailahasanovic, and 135,864 others
francisca.cgomes last night 👄
username81 the prettiest girl in the world
username14 y/n lurking in the likes yet again 😭
⤷ username74 aren’t they friends tho?
⤷ username46 i mean pierre broke up w her for y/n so erm idk if kika would call her a friend
⤷ username71 you’d think they’re best friends from how often i see her on kika’s page
username17 pierre fumbled
⤷ username62 he fumbled a baddie for another more unhinged crazier baddie
liked by username72, username10, and 14,029 others
f1wagcentral kika talking about y/n on portuguese radio show some time ago - when her and pierre were still together (10/3/2023)
username61 nah her saying jealousy, jealousy is crazy
⤷ username3 why? i’m new to the fandom
⤷ username61 basically jealousy, jealousy is about kika - well allegedly but it’s really obvious
⤷ username3 oh i thought they were good friends when kika and pierre were together?
⤷ username61 well i mean yeah but everyone else could tell that she was in love w pierre (even kika)
username35 forever missing the friendship we could’ve had between these two
liked by username79, yourusername, and 21,029 others
f1wagcentral NEW! ex-wag kika talking about her ex boyfriend, pierre gasly’s current girlfriend, y/n y/l/n’s new album GUTS. (13/1/2024)
username14 kika is better than me bc if my ex left me for his girl best friend he told me not to worry about (that acted like my best friend and wrote songs about me) i would not be this nice
username61 classy girl
username91 i could not be kika bc her situation would ruin y/n’s music for me but like i could not imagine life without it 😭
username2 why are they still asking this poor girl questions abt her ex’s ex?
liked by luisinhaoliveira99, flavy.barla, and 183,761 others
yourusername loml
tagged pierregasly
username13 pinterest couple
username63 gagged bc isn’t this the same dress kika wore last week
⤷ username4 yes. yes it is. 😭
pierregasly ❤️
⤷ yourusername ❤️
username35 making me feel single in every way possible
charles_leclerc 3rd slide 🥵
⤷ alexandrasaintmleux 2nd slide 🥵
⤷ yourusername 👩❤️💋👩
⤷ pierregasly 👨❤️💋👨
liked by magui_corceiro, alexandrasaintmleux, and 98,747 others
francisca.cgomes reflexões
username81 the prettiest girl ever
alexandrasaintmleux 😍
magui_corceiro lindaaa 👩❤️💋👩
username46 out of this world
ben_thorne cool girl
carmenmmundt gorgeous ❤️
liked by pierregasly, alpinef1, and 150,738 others
yourusername play mirrors by justin timberlake
username18 she’s crazy
username84 no way she just blatantly copied kika 😭😭
⤷ username17 wow mirror selfies how original
⤷ username84 i mean u have to admit it can’t be a coincidence that she posted a post w all mirror selfies even mentioning it in the caption right after kiak did the same thing. but i can’t blame her after everyone keeps rubbing kika and pierre in her face still
pierregasly mon cœur ❤️
⤷ alex_albon mate she’s crazy
⤷ lilymhe but she’s free!
alexandrasaintmleux y/n 😭
⤷ yourusername alex 😛
charles_leclerc HAHAHAHHA
liked by alex_albon, lewishamilton, and 128,208 others
yourusername love ya london
tagged pierregasly, lewishamilton
username17 my parents frrrr
username83 not sir lewis 💀
lewishamilton 🤣
username91 almost forgot she was a singer bc we’ve been in a music DROUGHT
username73 THIS IS NOT A DRILL Y/N BACK IN THE STUDIO!! 🚨
sabrinacarpenter keen baby 💋👩❤️💋👩
pierregasly love ya 😜
⤷ yourusername 😐
pierregasly belle ❤️
pierregasly my pretty gorgeous girlfriend
pierregasly mon amour 🙏
⤷ yourusername no. stop trying.
⤷ pierregasly but you let alex listen?!
⤷ alexandrasaintmleux i’m her wife ofc she let me listen
⤷ pierregasly dégagé
⤷ charles_leclerc stay mad
⤷ pierregasly NO HIM TOO???
⤷ alex_albon when u said alex hope u know that meant both…
⤷ lilymhe and me 😊
⤷ pierregasly wtf.
⤷ charles_leclerc mate i think it’s better for YOU not to listen
username17 omg what do we think the new music is about?! she didn’t let pierre listen but everyone else??? a love song?!
⤷ alex_albon you could call it that i guess…
liked by yourusername
liked by ben_thorne, yukitsunoda0511, and 201,829 others
yourusername 🔜
username81 i can’t wait any longerrrr
username2 album? ep? single?
⤷ yourusername single 💋💋
⤷ username2 we’ll take what we can get!!!
username62 the song HAS to be a love song she keeps using pics of pierre
⤷ username3 or she’s just that obsessed
⤷ alexandrasaintmleux @yourusername lol
⤷ yourusername lol.
⤷ charles_leclerc HAHHAAHHAHAH
⤷ username3 WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!
francisca.cgomes excited 💗!!!
⤷ yourusername 🤍
⤷ username7 y/n kika interaction in the good year of 2024 🙏
username17 eeee so excited
username65 finally a love song from our queen!
username80 awww can’t wait for a cutsie love song for pierre
alex_albon everyone in the comments is in for a nice surprise
⤷ yourusername 😭
liked by sabrinacarpenter, pierregasly, and 309,028 others
yourusername obsessed out now on all platforms (+mv) 💋
username71 AHHAHA NO FUCKING WAY
username9 that shit hittttt
francisca.cgomes can’t wait abt to give a listen 🩷
⤷ username81 oh- girl…
⤷ username7 the deleted comment 😭😭
alexandrasaintmleux my unhinged wife 👩❤️💋👩
charles_leclerc crazy woman
username4 her BLOOD TYPE?!
landonorris banger i reckon
username61 IS SHE GOOD IN BED? girl if u don’t stand tf upppp
username7 all this sleep lost over a french man
pierregasly mon dieu bebe😭
⤷ yourusername i love you 🥰
⤷ pierregasly i love you too…
username16 i get her tho i mean i would also be obsessed w my bf’s ex if she was kika mf gomes
⤷ username7 valid but like also shes y/n mf y/l/n
username81 everyone gagged but this is the same girl who wrote jealousy jealousy allegedly also abt kika 😭😭
⤷ username72 also i feel like her online behaviour very much supports this song…
username27 need someone to make a run down of the lyrics and the irl counterparts
⤷ f1couxples on it 🫡
liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 1,082,747 others
pierregasly my crazy baby released a song about how crazy she is for me ❤️
tagged yourusername
yourusername crazy for u baby 🥹
⤷ pierregasly my gremlin
charles_leclerc you make her seem so sweet
username61 my guys is loving this
username84 i just know pierre secretly loves that she’s so feral about him
landonorris 🦶🦶?!? @yourusername
⤷ yourusername fuck off
username73 still need that lyric breakdown
⤷ f1couxples coming up
liked by username8, username74, and 20,0828 others
f1couxples BREAKDOWN of obsessed by y/n y/l/n
singer-songwriter, y/n y/l/n, the girlfriend of pierre gasly has released a song obsessed that many fans suspect is about the driver’s ex girlfriend - francisca gomes. for context, y/n and pierre are childhood best friends. during the time kika and pierre dated (2022-2023) fans observed y/n’s somewhat jealous behaviour which finally materialised when pierre left kika and after a matter of weeks was seen with his best friend.
here’s a breakdown of some of the lyrics! reminder this is all personal opinion and no hate to anyone involved!
If I told you how much I think about her
You'd think I was in love
And if you knew how much I looked at her pictures
You would think we're best friends
this in general just can be brought down to all the times y/n has been caught accidentally liking fan acc posts of kika or kika&pierre. stalking queen 🫡🫡
'Cause I know her star sign, I know her blood type
in the third picture we have a screenshot from an interview on a popular portuguese radio show. she talks about how y/n did her entire zodiac chart!
She's talented, she's good with kids
random but kika is known for her large family and often posts with her many little cousins and nieces/nephews - especially when she was with pierre (last slide)
She even speaks kindly about me, ha-huh
the third photo is a screenshot from interview kika did in barcelona- she praises y/n and gives many nice comments. there are various other instances where kika says kind words about y/n.
But every time you call my name, I think you mistake me for her
the 5th photo in the carousel is from the 2023 vegas gp, kika’s visibly upset facial expression and the physical distance between the couple is apparently due to a fight they had earlier in the paddock. bystanders and a small audio evidence clip suggest that pierre accidentally called kika ‘y/n’ during their argument - so really pierre actually mistook kika for y/n 😬
You both have moved on, you don't even talk
obviously pierre moved on very quickly with y/n (many believing he broke up with kika just to be with y/n) as well kika has been seen on dates since the break up. additonallu, although the pair still follow eachother and have stated they remain friends- kika and pierre have not liked any posts of the others and haven’t been seen interacting even when kika has visited the paddock.
Is she friends with your friends? Is she good in bed?
as seen in the fourth photo, kika was very good friends with pierre’s friends especially his trainer ben thorne and close friend ilies nadri. as well, all of pierre’s friends still follow kika including charles leclerc.
francisca.cgomes uploaded to their story
francisca.gomes uploaded to their story
yourusername uploaded to their story
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
first one in awhile! lmk what u think x
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how i reprogrammed my mind within 6 days / shifted 4-5 times within 6 days
⋆。˚🪼🫧˚。⋆
DISCLAIMER!!
what worked for me is not 100% gonna work for you, don’t expect it to then blame me. thank you!
js = just, are the same. i js use them interchangeably
i took a step back from shifting for a second ( though it was only an hour long break ) i sat with my thoughts and realized my doubts were very likely the problem.
how i discovered my thoughts were the problem
everytime i didn’t shift id get frustrated and everything like that, id be envious of the person who shifted before me and get frustrated. but also id try to jam pack my mind with unnecessary and meaningless information that was of zero help to me on shiftok.
i switched over shiftblr and that’s how i came to the conclusion my mindset was the problem.
what i did consistently for the next 6 days
all i truly did is sit down and think about life, i read a couple of blogs ( ill link the ones that helped me near the end ) and just kept affirming i DID and COULD shift. ive shifted 3 times before this, so affirming i could shift was simple but believing it was the biggest issue. so from day one, i just started acting like i was the shit, bc i was, i js needed to realize it. simple as that
꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ the blogs ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱
“my advice to those who are struggling with shifting” by @ariel26c
“why circumstances don’t matter” by @ariel26c
“friendly reminder that—“ by @mathisshiftss
“You don't need to read another blog post you need to fucking trust yourself. I believe in you, now go believe in yourself” by @stilljuststardust
“i figured out intention. like actually.” by @lunarshifting
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Hey love I have an ask bc I’ve been feeling super depressed lately and I haven’t wanted to get out of bed lol can you do a one shot when spencer leaves for the week on a case and comes home to the house a mess and the reader laying in bed crying and he makes her shower and eat and cuddles her
oh my love <3 i hope you are feeling a little better. please make yourself a nice warm drink and try to spend some time outside or doing something outside of bed, even if it's just five minutes <3 it's worth it, i promise — someone who also bed rots often
LITTLE BY LITTLE • S. REID X READER
hurt/comfort; reader in a depressive episode; mentions of emotional eating and food; perfect bf spencer; nonsexual nudity and intimacy; kisses; pet names; fluff; ~1k
Spencer being gone was normal, a common occurrence. You didn’t normally struggle when he was gone, but with a mix of bad days at work and him being gone, you could barely bring yourself to eat.
You liked to keep the house clean while he was gone so he’d have one less stressful thing to come back to. This time, it was a mess, clothes and food packaging left around. You’d raided the sweets stash, and made a mental note to replace his chocolate bars before he realized.
“Honey?” Spencer’s voice calls, and you blink away the sting of tears. You weren’t hydrated enough for more to roll down your cheeks, but you didn’t want to worry him. With a swipe of your (his) sweater sleeve, you work on rubbing away tear stains as he comes into the bedroom, tilting his head at the wrappers and mess on the nightstand. “You okay?”
You shake your head, not trusting your voice. “You’re home early,”
“It ended well,” he tells you, gathering the trash left sitting. He doesn’t even comment that his nice chocolate bars were clearly eaten. “How long have you been like this?”
“Few days, maybe?”
“Why didn’t you call?” He sighs. He sounds exasperated, but you know he’s not upset at you as he rubs a soothing hand over your cheek and lets you lean into him.
“I didn’t wanna worry you,” you mumble, voice muffled into his palm. You press a kiss to it, smiling softly when his fingers twitch at the ticklish sensation. “‘S okay.”
Spencer shakes his head adamantly, you know he disagrees. “Find some nice pajamas for me, okay? I’ll be right back.”
He comes back after throwing out the trash. “I put some water on. Tea or hot cocoa?”
“Tea,” you mumble, rubbing your throat.
“With honey. Don’t even try to tell me not to add it.” Spencer grabs the pajamas you scrounged up. “I’ll fluff these in the dryer, too. C’mon, gorgeous,”
He helps you stand and lets you curl into his side as he walks you into the bathroom and helps you undress, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he tugs the sweater off. You shiver at how cold the air is, and he reaches behind you to turn the water on and let it start to warm.
Spencer carefully brushes your hair out of your face with his fingers, frowning when you pull away a little. He doesn’t comment on it, just studying your face with his intent stare.
“Stop looking at me,” you mumble.
“Just trying to see if you’re okay, sweetheart,” he whispers, ghosting a kiss over your cheek. “You’ll tell me about it after. Do you want me to help you wash up?”
You pause. “Dunno.”
Spencer chuckles. “Ok, well, I’m gonna go start fluffing your clothes and put water in the kettle. Let me know when I get back?”
You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as his movement creates a draft.
When he peeks back in, you’re staring at the water.
“You have to get in, honey,” he reminds you, voice sweet. It makes you feel like crying.
“I know. I think I’m okay.”
Spencer pauses as his mind processes what you’re responding to. “Okay. Take as long as you need. I’ll be waiting in the living room,”
The water is nice — heated exactly where you like it to be —, and you take much longer than normal letting it run over corded muscles and wash away your sadness as you get clean. It’s nice, and you know you’ll feel better when you get out. Part of you hates that, because it just makes another thing Spencer is right about (and he’s always right about things, so you pride yourself on the times you beat him).
When you finally step out and towel dry, you find your warm clothes on the counter. He must’ve brought them in while you were distracted.
Finally dressed in clean clothes, you drop the dirty ones in the hamper and pad out to the living room.
Spencer is in comfortable clothes — a Washington DC hoodie, sweatpants, fluffy and mismatched socks — and his hair is no longer styled. That’s the first thing you notice. Then you notice the tea, the bowl of perfectly cut-up fruit, and the spread of cheese, crackers, and lunch meat.
“Figured you wouldn’t want a full meal,” he tells you, patting his thigh. You walk over and settle on him gently, squeaking in surprise when he pulls you into him more tightly and presses kisses on your face until you squirm from the contact, giggling. “C’mon, open,”
He taps the strawberry piece to your lips and you roll your eyes as you eat it.
“I love you, you know that?”
“‘Course I do, Spence,” you tell him, voice soft and scratchy.
“Then tell me. Please? Me not knowing you’re upset hurts more than being unable to be here for you. I can at least call you and leave voicemails or talk you through stuff.”
You sigh, shoulders dropping. “But you’re busy and dealing with hard stuff already.”
“And I will always choose to deal,” he says the word like it’s poisonous, “with what you are struggling with first. I signed up to be your number one supporter. Always,”
He hands you your tea and waits for you to finish drinking before he takes it and sets it back down. He holds your hands, rubbing his thumb over the back.
“Okay? Tell me.”
“Okay.”
Spencer smiles and relaxes, kissing you more gently. “Now eat up, sweetheart. It’s all for you.”
You whine at that, and he cuts you off with a stern look.
“My chocolate bars are not proper sustenance for an adult of your—”
“Spencer.” You mumble, picking up a grape. “Shut up. I’ll eat.”
He smiles, pleased, and leans his head on your shoulder. It should be weird, him watching you eat, but it fills you with warmth and happiness as he traces aimless shapes on your thigh and makes sure you’re okay.
title is bc: little by little you will be okay. i know you will. we all will be.
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a sense of coming home
ona batlle x reader
summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends
words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)
warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end
notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending
again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)
also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x
There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken?
Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible.
It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.
You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier.
Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.”
“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.”
“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.”
You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?”
“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.”
“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.” You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.”
“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to.
“I am always on your side.”
That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be.
Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase.
However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.
…
The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted.
You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you.
Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.
You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad.
And… you, apparently.
“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door.
Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.”
“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously.
“Of course.”
With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence.
Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft.
“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.”
“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?”
He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this.
Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration.
Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection?
But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor?
…
“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.
“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility.
“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.”
“Maybe she only likes men.”
“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.”
“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.”
…
You are more than a little confused.
To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend.
Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much.
Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you?
For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world.
It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar.
She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?”
You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.”
“I cried for months.”
“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.”
She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes.
“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself.
Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.”
You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving.
Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said.
No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone.
“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.”
“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.”
“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy.
You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more.
Do you regret it?
It’s unclear.
You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here.
This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become.
As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.
It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date.
It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official.
You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face.
There are many reasons why you go out with him.
One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied.
He’s not Ona. You know that.
That's the whole point.
If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care.
But you just… don’t.
Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head.
You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself.
The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago.
Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them.
“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.”
“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday.
Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona.
“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger.
“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?”
Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country.
Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself.
“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.”
…
Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen.
It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited.
Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially.
Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming.
Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it.
It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun.
Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced.
By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything.
It won’t. (It does.)
And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight.
In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden.
Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun.
Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible.
You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk.
Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up.
But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore.
Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit.
Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom.
She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’.
You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right.
When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier.
“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.”
It’s not true.
It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again.
She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done.
…
You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit.
The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.
You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill.
It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.
You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents.
Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again.
In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam.
Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off.
It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams.
“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.”
“Why?”
The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.”
You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona.
She picks up.
“I was sorry to hear about your mum.”
“Don’t worry. She’s fine.”
“Are you back at home?”
“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.”
Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles.
“Need me to show you around the city?”
And it’s Ona, so how could you say no?
…
Your visit goes very well.
She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend.
Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life.
She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery.
You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.
Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.
Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”
And your hands stop.
“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement.
You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?”
Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa.
“Who do you care about, then?”
“You.”
Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day.
The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend.
Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter.
You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before.
With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back.
Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly.
“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.”
You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers.
She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her.
At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh.
You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs.
“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?”
She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly.
As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.”
Ona blushes.
You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless.
For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on.
And that’s when she whispers it.
It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering.
It has taken years but it does not matter.
Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home.
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ok I am gonna start rattling off statement ideas I had written down bc I need to get them out of me
- A Stranger statement, lady gets plastic surgery only to be given a completely different face entirely. Her own friends even start calling her a different name and saying she lived a completely different life
- Can be seen as either Spiral or Stranger, person was a cake artist that was gifted a strange set of edible paint and brushes. Slowly, everything around them becomes cake and they become more and more paranoid until they kill their boyfriend. Idk it was more of a joke idea
- Corruption statement, lady is pregnant with some type of insect thing and shows obsession for it, even when it stays in her body much longer than it should. Follow-up documents reveal it was a twelve-foot tall centipede.
- End statement, guy owns a bunch of clocks with the name of his friends written on them. The clocks are broken until the year they are going to die, when they start ticking. When they chime, the person dies.
- End(?) statement, more typically spooky one of a body still being alive during an autopsy and it tormenting the coroner afterwards.
- An End artifact, a birthday card that has the exact amount of time someone has left to live written on the inside and constantly shows up in the person’s life to keep reminding them.
- An Eye statement, person watches a TV channel that has ads that get increasingly more personalised as the night progressed. It progresses more, becoming ads on YouTube videos accusing them of things they’ve done and even shows up in anything they overheard. Any and all conversation they hear seem to be tied to their life in some form.
THESE ARE SO FUN!
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intrusive thoughts astro version
mamoru yamamoto
I’ve noticed earth mars in signs or degrees gets aroused when their sexual partner it’s having a good time, adding that’s because of them.
if asteroid rhiannon (16912) it’s about running away, what would happen if it’s on 12H. ik what about it but 😭 I can’t help it but point it out.
rhiannon (16912) conjunct mercury means escape from situations thanks to their persuasiveness
return venus conjunct natal venus -in venus return chart-: you’re finding your aesthetic/style you feel more comfortable and that vibes with your vibe 😝. also the energy of your sign/house and degree is PRESENT, that’s why during all that period of time you could feel too prideful without hesitation. mine was sag venus 11H 6° (virgo degree), i was feeling a little too optimistic or enthusiastic and cut out people. you’re being kind of truth to yourself?
natal jupiter square return pluto -in venus return chart-: you’re in a period of rebirth and thanks to your lucky nature -natal jupiter- you’re deciding not to end it. wanting it or not, you have this feeling of overcoming things.
when I used placidus system, my moon was in 1H, then I used whole sign system and my moon changed to 2H. for a while I preferred placidus bc I didn’t feel seen by the 2H moon chart. then I realized the 2H characteristics where in front of me the whole time. I wanted to feel understood, 1H moon was comforting the idea that I’m sensitive and feel emotions insanely deep. besides, 2H moon it’s about craving for comfort and security. I was only focused on the financial part, the stereotypical and superficial part. it’s a good thing to compare both charts to analyze how they can guide you.
uranus 12h in Eros persona chart shows u crave for intimacy 😭
idk why every time I end up getting stressed and bored about a friend is when I have mercury square their neptune. -reading note: she’s still my friend, we just have different point of views or forms to process information. the mercury part doubts constantly about others opinions and arguments and they see neptune as impulsive and kind of ignorant, bc their way of believing in things.
referring to the solar eclipse -April 8, 2024- my 3H has been affected -aquarius ascendant-, days after, out of nowhere -I havent had connection with them- I’ve received a voice message from the lilith person I was talking about on my posts, someone I used to be friends and distanced myself away from them. I decided to listened to it on the day of solar eclipse without thinking thinking about this coincidence -solar eclipse, 3H is affected-.
natal neptune sextile transiting venus: i felt like I was high even though I took my tdah pills 😭 I was so in peace? I felt emphatic? transits with your dominant planet have a huge effect on your mood. mine’s neptune and was sextile transiting venus.
I’ve noticed people with saturn 8H are kind of like a libra venus, in a way they’re afraid their love experience won’t be as they dreamed. saturn 8H creates restrictions on sexual attitudes and matters. imo 8H mix love and sexual desires, they need something that would drag them out of their secure space, they’re afraid. they’re late bloomers when’s about their first kiss or etc.
3H stellium at a distant, it’s giving introvert or distant vibes, they try to process things logically and could be a little slow to catch a joke?
I have a friend I thought was mean and in her energy💅, could be described as intimidated. she’s the opposite. when I saw her birth chart it made total sense, coming from an aquarius ascendant -saturn ruled like capricorn-, I had no clue she was a saturn ruled. it always surprises me how defined some rising’s energies can be presented.
sun 4H brings a sense of familiarity, even more when your mars is 4H, you feel more comfortable with them -sun 4H-, they remind you of your family or the vibes.
pisces 7H in solar return chart could tell you’re expecting a lover, doesn’t mean you’re having one 😭 i swear this solar return was like that, I meet a person and then proceed to imagine a relationship with them.
(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ૮꒰ྀི⸝⸝> . <⸝⸝꒱ྀིა ∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗ */ᐠ - ˕ -マ✩ (˶˃ᆺ˂˶)∗ ࣪
♡ Based on personal experience and I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.
♡ English is not my first language.
♡ I’m not a profesional astrologer.
Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋
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not my type 2 - Rafe Cameron x plus size!fem!reader
summary: Rafe comes to visit you unexpectedly and things don't quite go like you want them to
warnings: swearing, smut (p in v (unprotected), reverse cowgirl, missionary (it just happened, I can't explain it), fingering (semi-public), dirty talk, edging)
word count: 3.7k
author's note: part 2 because I couldn't stop thinking about it. I hope you like it. (also, if any of you have any clue about real estate, you are allowed to yell at me bc all my knowledge comes from watching those shows on Netflix...)
part 1
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“It's gonna have to work somehow,” you sigh and rub your hand over your forehead. You are exhausted, having been up all night to find a solution to the problem your team is facing.
Your head perks up at a knock on the door. “Excuse me, miss, the Cameron account is waiting in your office. He says he has an appointment, although I couldn't find it in your calendar.”
“He doesn't have a fucking appointment,” you yell in frustration. “I'm sorry,” you apologize immediately, close to tears but not about to start crying in front of your coworkers. “It's not your fault. I'll just go and send him away.”
“Why are you here?” you ask while entering your office, and he turns around to smile at you.
“I'm guessing you're not happy to see me?”
“It's really bad timing. You could've called,” you sigh exasperatedly while looking through your emails.
“You didn't leave a number,” he reminds you, and you slowly pick up your head to look at him.
“You have the office number,” you force a smile.
“Yeah, I'm not gonna call your receptionist to ask if you got time to get drunk or need a good fuck,” he says while walking around your desk and standing next to you.
“Would be inappropriate, yes,” you look up at him, but you freeze as you see your dad step inside.
“Y/n, you didn't tell me Mr. Cameron was coming in. I would've welcomed you earlier, Sir,” he introduces himself and Rafe shakes his hand.
“It's really no issue, Mr. y/l/n. I'm in really good hands with your daughter,” Rafe charms him.
“She's the best,” your dad praises you, and you nod along, too tired to actually care. “Now, let me show you around,” he leads him out of your office and Rafe quickly turns his head to give you a slightly panicked look.
You mouth a “have fun” at him, and then he's gone, and you are allowed to get back to work.
“Listen, if we switch the staging company-”
“That's not gonna help with the interest rate, James,” you sigh, pacing the room.
“Was just a suggestion,” he mutters.
“I'm calling it. This isn't going anywhere. Let's go home and come back tomorrow morning with some new ideas on how to fix this shit,” you suggest, and the whole team lets out a sigh of relief.
“And here we have- Honey, what are you doing?” your dad interrupts you and your colleagues while packing up.
“Going home. We've been here for over 24 hours,” you explain.
“Can we talk in my office?” he asks, and you follow diligently, leaving Rafe and the others alone in the conference room while you go talk to him.
“It's not a good look to leave early, especially in front of a partner,” he admonishes your choices.
“I honestly don't care what Mr. Cameron thinks, dad. It's my team, my decision.”
“Is the issue at least fixed?”
“No, and it won't get better if I don't give them any rest. I haven’t slept or showered since in two days, dad,” you complain, and he shakes his head but caves nevertheless.
“Fine. But you'll have to come to dinner tonight. This Cameron guy is a big part of our modern strategy, we can't let him slip away.”
“Okay,” you nod and walk back out of the office and towards the conference room to tell your team it was okay to leave.
“Rough day?” Rafe asks while following you back to your office.
“Rough week. Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” you huff but inadvertently stop and turn to look up at him. “Look, all I wanna do is go home take a nice bath, sleep for two hours and then meet both you and my parents for dinner because apparently I don't have any fucking choice. So, just go back to your hotel or do some sightseeing, I don't care, but just go.”
“Can I ask something before I leave?” A smile tugging on his lip.
“You just did.”
“When was the last time you actually had sex?”
You turn to make sure there was no one around who could've heard him before pulling him with you into your office.
“You can't just ask shit like that. Especially here,” you hit him against the chest, but he takes your wrist and keeps your hand flat to his body.
“See, I tried hooking up with someone else, multiple someones, but that just didn't hit the same way. It's purely a practical issue, all right.” God, how you hate his macho behavior as if you'd ever fall for it, or him.
“I'm still not answering that preposterous question.”
“So, you didn't? Was there no one or were they just shit?” he asks, a little too cocky for your taste.
“I'm going home now,” you tell him again and start putting your laptop in your bag.
“I didn't book a hotel room. Didn't think I'd need one, to be honest,” he admits and you laugh.
“What makes you think that?”
But he doesn't reply and just looks at you with his blue eyes, eyes that haunt your dreams and sexual fantasies.
“You think ‘cause we hooked up once, you'll get some kinda claim over me? Like, I'm supposed to throw myself at you the moment you step onto the stage? Well, you guessed wrong, darling,” you sneer and go to walk out of the office when he grabs your wrist.
“You didn't answer my question.”
“Fuck, okay, fine. It's shit. It's not- I'm not gonna fucking praise you, asshole,” you scoff and start walking again. “Are you coming or not?”
“I'm still gonna take my bath,” you remind him as his hands find your face to hold onto it while he's kissing you and stumbling backwards out of the elevator, right into your flat.
“Fuck, you can have as many baths as you want. Just lemme fuck you,” he begs after pulling away.
“Jesus, you're needy,” you laugh as he rips your tight dress down, making your tits spill out. “You know that thing has a zipper right?” you ask as he starts kneading and kissing your tits like there's no tomorrow. You're getting wetter by the second, and he doesn't seem to want to stop and actually help you out of the dress.
“Rafe, please, just a minute,” you beg and he holds up to look at you.
“Whaddya need, sugar?” His light southern drawl is making you even needier than you care to admit.
“Can you open the zipper, so I can take this shit thing off?”
“Sure, can do, sweetie,” he puts too much weight into the pet name for it to not be a dig at your dad.
“Don't call me that again, please. Anything but that,” you sigh as he helps you out.
“You know your dad's an asshole, right?”
“Aren't they all?” you huff walking over to the window front that looks out onto Central Park and leaning your head against the glass. “I grew up with him. Of course, I know he's an ass. You think I turned out this sweet ‘cause he was nice?”
“What would he actually say if he knew?” Rafe steps closer to you, opening the knot in your hair and kissing your shoulder.
“Congratulate me or disown me. Either way, it just proves his suspicions right,” you shake your head.
“Why? He thinkin’ you slept your way to the top or what?”
“Oh no, that's all nepotism. No, he thinks I slept with my professors because he can't believe that I made valedictorian and was named party queen of Harvard at the same time.”
“Did you?”
“Once, before he was my Professor, and it didn't have any effect on my grade,” you admit but have to laugh at how absurd it sounds.
“You feeling better now?” he asks while rubbing your arms with his huge hands.
“A bit. I'm still not your friend or anything,” you remind him and he laughs.
“Business partners and fuck buddies, I'm okay with that.”
“Good. Grab that chair,” you tell him and point at a lounge chair that stands a bit off to your right.
As soon as the chair is in place you push him down on it, straddling him in it and kissing him relentlessly. His hands are all over you, unclasping your bra in the back and making your tits jiggle as they drop.
“Jesus fucking Christ, why are you so hot,” Rafe rasps, running his hands over the fat on your belly before pressing his face into your chest to motorboat you as best as he could.
His childlike wonder, when it comes to you, makes you somewhat happy about the fact that he had dropped by unexpectedly.
“Rafe?”
“Uh-huh,” he moans against your skin.
“I, uh… I don't have any condoms here,” you admit, and he rips his head up.
“You what? Why? Why would you say that to me right now? I'm already hard for fuck's sake,” he complains loudly.
“I'm sorry that I'm inconveniencing you there, you ass,” you snap and get up, picking up your bra and dress and leaving for the bathroom.
“Fuck, sugar, just come back,” he pleads, but you don't even think about it and instead strip yourself completely to take a shower.
“Okay, listen, I can just go down find a store, buy some and get back here. Easy,” Rafe suggests, and you roll your eyes without looking at him.
“Have you considered that I might not give a shit, jerk?”
“Oh yeah? What's your brilliant idea, miss Harvard,” he scoffs.
“How often do you get tested?” you ask and turn your head far enough to be able to see him stand behind you, nothing but tight boxers left on his body.
“Every other month,” he shrugs.
“When was the last time?”
“Week ago.”
“And?”
“Clean. I'm not risking it, with, like, quick hookups and shit.”
“Me neither. But I've never wanted to fuck a guy more than once either,” you say and turn back to the water that's steaming up the tiled room.
“You want me to fuck you raw?” he asks, sounding as if you had just offered him the job of his life.
“Jesus, don't get yourself so hyped already. I'm just saying it's a potential possibility that needs considering.”
“What about-”
“I've had an IUD since I turned 18 and it's never once failed me. I think it's gonna be fine,” you turn around to face him fully; eyes trailing down to the massive bulge in his boxers.
“So, I'm guessing you've never been fucked while looking down onto Central Park?” you ask with a wide smile, and he shakes his head.
Rafe is back in the chair when you let yourself down on him, feeling every ridge and vein of his huge cock and you both groan at the feeling.
His hand is trailing over your back, drawing lines over it while you let yourself breathe to adjust to him just enough so it doesn't hurt too much.
You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. “If you wanna tap out, just pinch me. I'm not gonna listen to anything else, I just wanna make that clear.”
“Noted,” he grins, and you lean forward in your seat and plant your feet in the ground before starting to bounce on his dick.
“Shit, I missed looking at this ass,” he grunts, and you start bouncing a bit harsher, forcing yourself down on him while moaning loudly.
“Talk to me,” you beg as you keep fucking yourself with his cock.
“You're a real slut, fucking your professor? I bet it turns you on to know how weak you make them. To know they have no control. Making them your little bitch,” his words are frequently interrupted by heavy pants and your excessive moaning, but he continues anyway. “Not with me. You're mine now. I don't give a shit who you were before. All you are now is my little whore, who lets me fuck her whenever I want. Right?”
“Yes, daddy,” you cry out and do your best to keep bouncing on him, your hand finding your clit and toying with it.
“You'll let me fill you up with my cum, like the pretty little cumslut that you are. Isn't that right?” he asks and thrusts up into you, meeting the movement of your hips and making you scream as he defiles your cunt.
“Speak up, sugar,” he demands, pulling on your hair and bending you back.
“Gonna make a mess for you, daddy. Just for you.” The tears are running down your cheeks when your orgasm hits you, and he follows instantly, fucking his seed even deeper into you before letting go of your hair and allowing you to get up.
“Can you walk?” he asks, and you nod while dragging yourself over to your bed and falling face-first into the fresh linen.
“I thought I was imagining it, that my memory was skewed,” you mumble into the fabric. “But my memory doesn't come even close to this.”
“Could say the same,” he praises you, and you can't help but blush.
“Have you ever tried vanilla sex?” you ask out of pure curiosity, and he shakes his head while walking over.
“Not a big fan of the lovey-dovey bullshit.”
“Same. That's why I prefer reverse cowgirl, less personal, but I'm still in control for the most part,” you say after turning around to lie on your back.
“We, uhm, could just do it. Like a bucket list thing. Just so we know how it is,” he suggests and you laugh.
“Yeah sure.”
“I'm serious. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? We fall in love? As if,” he huffs.
“I'll sue you if you do,” you tell him before pulling him into you and somehow crawling backwards onto the bed. He kisses you, and you feel like you're melting into him, into his touch, his being; all of him.
His swollen tip is nudging at your clit, and you grasp down and put him to your aching hole, pushing him into you just slightly and your eyes already roll back at the feeling. Your senses feel heightened and dull at the same time, as if you are floating while on fire.
“Look at me,” Rafe demands, holding onto your neck and squeezing just enough to make you whimper. You stare into his eyes, the blue is gone, and he starts to smile as he slowly pushes into you. Your eyes widen at the pleasantly painful stretch he's giving your pussy.
And his lips find yours, muffling the moans that threaten to slip out as he pounds into you. But he lets off, kissing your neck, sucking on it and pulling your leg up to get a better angle.
“I'm gonna cum,” you cry pathetically and he laughs.
“No, you're not. You're mine, baby, don't forget that.”
“Please, Rafe.” You are begging once again, and his attack on your tired cunt is just getting worse with every passing minute. You had never begged for an orgasm before. Never had wanted to. But Rafe's way of fucking you is inherently different to anything you had ever felt before.
“Not gonna happen,” he grins down at you, and you whine, but he keeps you pinned down right where he wants you to be. Your hands are clawing at his back, trying to hold onto him for dear life, to not lose yourself entirely.
“Tell me,” he slows, and it's pure torture, slowly dragging his big cock half out of you before slamming back in, giving voice to the most obscene squelching sound you'd ever heard your pussy make.
“I'm still not your type, right?” he smirks, and you throw your head to the side just for him to yank it back. “Answer, or you're not gonna cum on this dick ever again.”
“No. Still no,” you pant, and he kisses you again, pulling your hand down and letting you touch yourself.
His lips are moving towards your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Make daddy proud and soak his big cock, sugar,” he growls and your back arches up. Legs trembling as the tight band in your core snaps. The orgasm rips through you without any mercy, and you scream his name, actually trying to make him proud and feel worthy of the pleasure his cock’s giving you.
“Good girl,” he praises, brushing over your cheek. You're completely dazed, only paying half as much attention to him as you wanted to while watching his face contort and hips stutter with sloppy thrusts before he's releasing his hot seed into you.
“In love with me yet?” you joke while lying next to him, and he runs his hands over his short hair.
“Nope,” he shakes his head and purses his lips.
“Good. And if you praise me ever again, I'm gonna kick your ass. Understood?” you sneer while getting up and walking to the bathroom.
“You liked it,” he calls after you with a light laugh swinging in his voice. You know he’s right, but you don't wanna admit it. You don't want to admit to the vulnerability of it all, after having spent years to build yourself up to the person you are now. No longer wasting any more time on what people think of you or giving them any time of day to hurt you. This includes not letting them close to prevent it from ever getting to such a point ever again.
“Just don't fucking say it again,” you tell him as you hear him enter the shower behind you.
“Understood.”
You shower in silence, each of you on one end of the long shower but the glooming feeling that something has changed won't leave you. Not as you leave the shower to dry off, or as you lay down and try to relax for just a bit before you have to get ready. Not while doing your hair and makeup. Not while putting on your dress or when you call your driver.
And he's not saying a single thing. Rafe stays quiet throughout all of it, which makes you a little pissed at him, but you can't let it show.
You arrive ahead of time, your parents not yet there when the hostess shows you to your table, and you order an extra dry martini.
The stark difference in your behavior towards each other outside and inside the bedroom is starting to annoy you. You miss how easy-going he had been that first day you met him. How charming and funny and most of all flirtatious he had acted.
“Tomorrow morning, you're gonna fly home and then I only wanna see you when there's something with the business,” you tell him, trying to get the upper hand in a situation that you had never intended to be in.
“Understood,” he mutters as you both stand up to greet your parents, who are walking over.
The dinner is dry, and you can't wait to finally get home and just sleep. Your mom keeps making indecent jokes and comments towards Rafe, but he just laughs or smirks. And when he's not eating, he has one hand on his whiskey and the other on your thigh, slowly creeping up and making it harder for you to concentrate on what your father is telling you about.
“It's a difficult task, but we'll manage,” you say to your dad before jumping up. “Excuse me for a moment.”
You make a beeline to the restroom, trying to cool off and maybe get your act together. But Rafe won't let you. As soon as you step out of the restroom he yanks you with him to a dark corner of the hallway.
“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, and he pushes you against the wall, caging you in.
“Why are you letting him walk all over you?” Rafe questions, his hand is trailing under the skirt of your dress; fingertips caressing the soft flesh of your thighs.
“He's my boss,” you reply.
“What else?” he taunts, his fingers are pressed against your clit now, making you gulp and bite your lip to not let out a whimper.
“My dad,” you whisper, searching his eyes for approval, but instead he slaps your wet pussy and you squirm.
“You're pathetic, you know that?” he laughs quietly, and you nod, just to please him.
“Rafe, please, just-” you claw at his wrist, but he grabs your cunt even harsher.
“You don't get to pick and choose whenever you like, sugar. You don't want me to be nice, so I'm not. But then all of a sudden, you don't want me to be mean either. Now which is it? One final answer,” he demands, and you let go of him, your hand falling to your side as you admit defeat.
“Good choice,” he growls, pulls your slip to the side and pushes two fingers into your seeping cunt while his free hand is on your mouth, muffling your quiet moans.
His long fingers are curled up inside you, fucking you with no mercy or thought that someone might walk by and see. But you don't care because he's making you feel whole, whispering a plethora of disgustingly dirty shit into your ear, and always changing his technique when he feels you get closer to your release.
“Tell me who you belong to, sugar,” he rasps and you whimper silently.
“I'm yours, daddy. All yours.”
“Good,” he seems pleased with himself, and you feel a sigh of relief coming as you're growing closer and closer to your orgasm. But right before you can let go, he pulls away.
“Rafe, no- What are you doing?” You claw at his chest as he steps back and licks his fingers clean of your arousal.
“You don't get to use me and throw me away like a piece of trash. Remember who's got the upper hand here, y/n.” Then he lightly slaps your cheek two times before walking back to the table, leaving you to deal with the consequences of your actions.
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please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho
taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @drwstarkeyy @notdxbya @sublimepenguinpeach-blog
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Another Interesting Buddie Parallel 👀
So friends I just came across something super interesting by accident and I thought I’d share.
Yesterday I was reading a book called Puck Pact by Kristen Granata. The story is a marriage of convenience that involves a golden retriever mmc who is a hockey player, who happens to also be a single dad to a lovely 4 year old girl. And a black cat fmc who is an art curator. She’s all about sleeping around and one night stands, doesn’t wanna settle down and he’s a complete romantic at heart. Wants to marry for love. But alas a problem arises and he needs to get married to assure he’s left with his dead parents’ villa in Italy since it’s the only thing he has from them.
The mmc, Alex and fmc, Aarya, have wild sexual tension and he’s turned her down a few times bc they wanted different things. He also had to take into consideration his daughter Giuliana. Long story short, he needed a fake wife, she needed money to open her own art gallery. One thing lead to another and boom, they got married. But with that fake marriage came along real feelings. Feelings that they both eventually stop fighting. Now why am I making a post about some random book?
Well as I was reading, I got to a part where Alex gets hit really bad on the ice, his helmet flies off and he cracks his skull on the ice. She is watching the entire thing happen and she loses it, tries to get to him but they take him away. She’s inconsolable, as predictable, and won’t leave his side. But she knows she has to go him to his little girl and assure that she’s taken care of. Remind you guys of anything??
She eventually is the one who tells Giuliana the bad news as she takes it like how a little kid would. Assures Aarya that her daddy will wake up. They even go visit him a few times. Kinda sorta how Buck was the one who felt like it was his job to tell Chris about his father being shot.
The part that really raised my brows is what happened a few days of waiting for Alex to wake up. Alex’s mother figure, who’s also his daughter’s nanny, tells Aarya that he recently changed his will to include Aarya as Giuliana’s legal guardian should anything ever happen to him.
This is the part that made me scratch my head bc it’s…literally the same fucking thing that happened in 911 with Buck and Eddie. Like almost identical even with the wording and shit. And that entire will reveal was meant to showcase them as just being “platonic” best friends. But like here’s a romance novel where the author has incorporated this very scene into a couples own relationship. The couple essentially being the heterosexual version of Buck and Eddie lol.
So all this to say, isn’t it interesting how they keep writing romantically coded scenes for Buck and Eddie, and we know this bc here’s an actual romance novel that has the same fucking scene with a couple, but they’re meant to be best friends. Like how much more proof does one need to see that these two are heavily written romantically and it’s only a matter of time until they actually get together. It’s a love story we’re watching unfold, albeit slowly, but it’s unfolding nonetheless. We just have to be a bit more patient.
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Love your writing!!
Can I request an Adam x Lucifer’s Ex! reader? Reader is basically the same rank as Lucifer was (so he’s the same strength as him too) Basically, they split up after he and Lilith got together and gave Eve the Apple. Reader is extremely depressed about it but then he meets one of the humans from Eden, Adam . And they find solidarity and comfort in going through the same/similar situation.
Lowkey giving that one scene from Steven Universe (No idea if you’ve watched/like SU so, if you’re not sure what I’m talking about, I’ll link it here. (If you want, you can probably just skip to the time stamps or watch all of it, either’s fine, but it starts at 2:33 and ends around 3:11
Spoilers for Steven Universe, if you even care.
https://youtu.be/PnlRR0rX_Q0?feature=shared
(The context for the SU scene is ofc different, but just the overall vibe of it is what I mean.) but just 2 people abandoned by someone who was supposed to be their soulmate (Twice for Adam) and them finding love in each other in the end.
(Like, imagine both the fluff AND angst potential.)
Also!! If/After you write this one, I might request a Part 2 of this with angst for the aftermath of EP.8. (ONLY if you’re ok with it OFC! If not, just tell me in your A/N for this one and I won’t send it!!)
I hope you have a great day!!!! 💙💙
Okay first of all: gimme that EP 8 request right now, I need it soooo badly °^° I haven't seen SU but I've watched the scene you linked and it helped to get the vibe right so much, this is a lil short but dragging it out just to make it appear longer felt wrong. I hope you like it though. Also friendly reminder: this is set in Eden before Adam became a douchebag.
I'm a jester and I'm yours, call me your fool
pairing: Adam x male!reader
warnings: language, hurt (with comfort)
note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers
Eden had always been the place for you to ge whenever you felt sad or upset, it calmed you down, eased your mind, made your thoughts shut up for only a couple moments. Lucifer had betrayed you, you knew that, you also knew that it had been for the best to end things with him before he would take it too far with his wish for free will and with the things that were going on between him and Lilith. And before you even realized how sad that made you feel, to be betrayed, to be replaced by a mortal soul that would never be as pure as you were, you started crying - it wasn’t loud and if someone wouldn’t have paid attention it was also not visible but Adam did pay attention. Lucifer and Lilith had given Eve the apple, the forbidden fruit, how much further would heaven allow them to go? You weren’t sure. What you were sure about though, was the fact that you missed Lucifer, you missed his warmth, his chaotic yet gentle way of handling things, no matter what it was. You missed his creative mind, his joyful character, the love he had held for you that he had never been able to hide. You missed your clumsy blonde little angel - you shook your head, no, he was no longer yours.
And while you tried to sort your emotions out, the brunette human carefully creeped closer, he noticed your sadness and despite the fact that he didn’t know why you were crying, he felt like he understood without knowing the true reason - he had heard them whispering about it. About how Lucifer had left his boyfriend in order to get together with the first woman, his ex wife, Lilith. And while one loss alone had been seemingly impossible to carry, Adam had not only lost Lilith to his former best friend, he had also lost Eve. Eve, who had tried to talk him into eating the apple as well, he had refused to though, he wanted to remain pure, if she decided that wasn’t for her though, then that was her deal and not Adam’s.
Once he had reached you, he quietly sat down next to you, he wanted to take the sadness away from you, a creature as gorgeous and heavenly as yours should not sit in Eden and cry. He wanted to ask you why you were crying, who caused all those tears but he felt like it wasn’t his place to do so - you were an angel after all. Was he even allowed to sit next to you? The first man didn’t know, but he was sure that if he wouldn’t be allowed near you, you would tell him so. Lucifer might be disobeying heaven’s rules, but you? You looked too pure to do so.
You quickly wiped your tears away as soon as you noticed the presence next to you, when you turned your head to look at the person that had decided to take their place by your side, you were quite surprised to see the face of the first man there. “You look so sad,” the brunette hummed as he reached out to gently touch your cheek. Your golden, broken looking eyes met equally broken brown ones and you somehow found comfort in them, even though they belonged to a total stranger. “Yeah,” you softly chuckled at his words, a small smile forced itself onto your lips, “I guess that’s normal when you get dumped, though.” So the rumors had been true, Lucifer had left his boyfriend for Adam’s former wife. He inhaled deeply, “That’s what love brings.” And yeah, he had a point. Love was able to bring joy and happiness, but it could also take those feelings away from you within seconds. Carefully you leaned into Adam’s touch and closed your eyes as you breathed in the scent of the brunette. “A creature as beautiful as you shouldn’t be sad over losing someone like Lucifer though,” the first man continued and gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, wiping away all remains of your tears. “That’s so easy to say, Adam,” your voice cracked when you said his name and you opened your eyes again, “He was everything.” Adam nodded, he understood, “So was Eve. And Lilith. But sometimes they choose a different path than you do and there is nothing you can do to change that.”
And looking at it that way made you realize that Adam was in the same situation as you were, a situation that tore apart everything just because Lucifer had made a reckless decision. You had lost everything and so had Adam, you were sitting in the same boat, sailing the same ocean of sadness. But now you had found each other, so at least you weren’t sailing alone anymore. “Adam?” you asked quietly as you looked at the first man, making sure you’d get nothing but honesty when your eyes met his, “Can you stay?” And without hesitation the first man nodded, this would not only bring you comfort and take a little bit of the sadness away from you, no, the brunette would also find comfort in this, you would keep his mind busy and that he was very thankful for.
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The Warrior with The Poets Heart.
Tamlin x Fae!Reader
Summary: Before Tamlin was a high lord, he wasn't even the heir he was just a boy with a lot of brothers, who made him heir when they all died. He had fallen in love with a girl, who had showed him a book that reminded her of him. It left him with a reason in life after Amarantha messes it all up.
Prompt: Poet/Warrior
Warnings: War, graphic violence, blood, Amarantha
Word Count: 4,086
Notes: A bit smaller but I feel I conveyed my goal in this. A bit late bc the minimum editing I did went on longer than I expected.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Human Fae War had exhausted Tamlin more than he'd like to have admitted, he didn't like swords yet here he was brandishing one, he favored his time reading and writing poetry more even though war time poems were less than proper.
His brothers had all been killed by rival troops, his father had named him heir shortly after the news reached both of their ears; he had been in the med tent getting checked over for a nasty slash when he had heard, his father had bitterly told him that he was heir now and needed to act as such. He was relieved when the war came to its end.
He had sought his usual comfort when he returned to Rosehall with his father paid him no mind, while Rosehall had a fairly good sized library a major portion of the books were kept in his father’s study, he never wanted anything to do with that room really but he guess he had too now. He had read all of the poetry collections within the halls of the estate, his recent comfort had been sneaking off to the nearby village where a small female ran a neat little bookshop. It had shelves of poetry he had never read, and Tamlin had been fascinated how it survived under his nose without him knowing.
He had only found out about it because one of the servants found him wandering around the estate looking for some poetry book he hadn't read yet and stumbled into the servants quarters to see if they had any, and a small lesser fae with dragonfly-like wings had directed him towards her friend's store. Needless to say she didn’t disappoint, and the store had quickly become one of his favorite getaways.
He had saddled up his horse and rode into the village, the familiar cobble path turning into dirt the closer he got to the village; he slowed his gallop down as he entered the busy streets, greeting back the fae that greeted him as he swerved through the crowds on his way to the familiar 2 story cottage at the end of the shopping district. Ivy grew up from the building and around the small handrails for the three steps up to the shop's porch, he tied his horse to the small post she had put out front when she noticed him struggling to tie his horse to the ivy covered railings and headed up the steps.
The familiar chime of the bells hung from the door handle announced his entrance and a voice yelled from the back room. “Be right there! Please feel free to look around!”
“It's just me Petal, looking for more poetry.” Tamlin called back, wandering around between the shelves.
“Oh! Tamlin! I ordered something in for you!” She rounded the shelves and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the sitting area near the checkout. “It came all the way from Day, but it's one of only 15 copied all over Prythian.”
Tamlin followed after her with a grin on his face, their relationship had steadily grown since his first time in the building; he had been awkward and shy looking around but she offered to help him, when he said he was looking for some poetry books he had yet to read she lit up dragging him to a shelf of books that was all poetry. She had asked him if there were any poets he preferred and when he shook his head no she began listing off her favorites on the shelves. He had gone home with only one book, one she claimed was her absolute favorite and was so passionate about that he just had to read it.
“You ordered me a book all the way from Day Court and it's a limited edition? How much did that cost you? I need to compensate you for that darling.” Tamlin mused with a small chuckle.
She tensed her entire face burning red. “No-no that's not necessary Tam, really, all I ask is that you also allow me to read it.”
Tamlin smiled at her gently. “Of course darling, anything you want.”
“We could read it together?” She mumbled softly.
“If you'd like to, I'd be more than happy to do that. Any excuse to not be up in Rosehall right now, father has been driving me up the wall.” Tamlin groaned dramatically and she chuckled.
She ushered him to sit in a chair and brought him a gift wrapped box, eagerly passing it to him she rocked on her feet as he ripped the nice emerald green paper off; inside a neatly bound book with gold embossing was nestled.
“The King of Poets?” Tamlin read off the cover.
“I got to read it a long time ago, my father had a copy, I sent it to be restored in day court for you. The main character reminds me of you.” She mused back.
“Oh Petal-” Tamlin held the book tightly in his hands. “If this was your father’s I can’t possibly take this from you.”
She smiled softly and sat beside him. “I want you to have it. You’ll see why.”
Tamlin looked over to her brows furrowed. “You sure darling? I know how much this must mean to you.”
She nodded. “It's not your normal poetry book. It's got small sections that read like poetry, when the main character is writing it himself. But it's a good book.”
“Then we will for sure read it together.” Tamlin nodded, pulled her into a side hug and with a blush on his face pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I can close the store for the day and we can go upstairs and I can make us some honey tea while we read?” She offered
“I'd like that.” Tamlin nodded.
“Go ahead and head up then.” She stood and smoothed her skirts out, she busied herself with closing the front of the store.
The stairs welcomed him up them, decorated with ivy and faelights; if downstairs was cozy, upstairs was cozier. It was kept dim, dark wooden floors with beige walls she had decorated with plants, tapestries, paintings, and hanging faelights; the room was covered with her own personal collection of books on tall bookshelves, in the center of the living room was a dark green padded couch, furs and warm blankets tossed over the back. The old wooden coffee table was in the center of the sofa and two matching chairs, it was littered with small plants and books and in the corner a matching desk was stacked with papers, a journal, and writing utensils.
He plopped onto the sofa, and pulled one of the warm blankets over the back into his lap; the steps creaked as she climbed them and he watched her with a soft adoration on his face, these were his favorite moments now. They had started about two months ago, she had invited him upstairs for tea after weeks of the two sitting in the downstairs reading area and reading different books in silence together.
She carried up a tray with two cups on it, and sat it on the coffee table; she curled up into his side as he took a drink from the sweetened tea. He pulled the blanket over her lap and wrapped his arm over his shoulder to tuck her further into his side.when she had fully nestled into his side he began reading aloud, the book was a good 25 or so chapters; small in comparison to some he had read but for the story it was trying to convey Tamlin deemed it the perfect size. Hours had passed and the sun was setting in the sky by the time Tamlin reached the last paragraph.
“-Even though he had to brandish his blade to defend us, his people, his poets, we knew that in his heart he would have rather been lost in his work writing or reading. But even with a poet's heart he stood and fought for us, and even though he lost we commemorate him now and memorialize him in this book. Understand this reader, one does not need the heart of a warrior to stand up for those around you that you care for, you can have the heart of a poet and do just that.” Tamlin read aloud.
He looked down to find her asleep against his chest and smiled; she had known his struggles, had known how he felt about being heir now. His heart wasn't in it he had told her once, he didn't have a warrior's heart like the rest of his brothers; no, he had the heart of a poet, of an artist if you added in his prowess with the fiddle. She wasn’t good with words conveying her message; He knew that, but she always found a way to explain it to him with a book. The character in the book was more like him than she had made it seem, for more reasons than one.
He set the book on her coffee table, wrapped the blanket around her and carried her through the upstairs into her bedroom; setting her on the fluffy bed he moved to the desk just outside of her bedroom door and began to scribble a letter to her on it. He brought the cups down to the kitchen and washed them in the sink, tipping them upside down on the small rack beside the sink; he hummed a soft melody while he cleaned and organized.
Eventually he slipped out the front door and used his magic to reseal the wards, untied the horse and set off back towards Rosehall and the estates grounds. He could face the challenges that came with being Heir now, he thought the war had taken its toll; he hated the mindless slaughter but he'd do it again if it meant protecting his people, protecting her.
+
The next morning she awoke groggily, dazed and confused about how she ended up in bed; remembering how she had fallen asleep surrounded in Tamlin’s scent, pressed into his side, warm, cozy, and with his voice lulling her to sleep. Really there had been no better way to fall asleep in her book. She dragged herself out of bed, finding his note folded neatly and waiting on her to open it.
‘Darling,
Thank you for the wonderful book, as always you know just what to pick; believe me you have conveyed your message my dear.
I understand now what you meant when you said the main character was similar to me in more ways than one. Not only was he blonde and green eyed or in love with a female who worked in the village nearby, but that I am a warrior with the heart of a poet.
Like the King in the book I didn't want to join the war efforts, but I did to protect the people of my court. I too was anxious about taking over my duties as heir; but you Darling, have helped me with that. I believe I can face them now with no anxiety knowing I’m doing it for you and for my court to make this place better than I will be handed it.
If I ever have to go to war again, know that I will brandish it in your honor. My father has asked me to assist him with a task as his heir, I will be gone for only a day or two but will return to you as soon as I make it back. If you would do me the honors, I would like to begin courting you upon my return.
With much love,
Your warrior with the heart of a poet.’
She smiled softly, a warm blush creeping to her face. She fully intended to agree to the courtship and would inform him so. She busied herself with getting ready for the day, and then opening the shop; it had most definitely picked up business since Tamlin had started swinging by.
The days while he was gone passed quickly as long as she busied herself, if not with work in the bookshop it was with writing her own poetry collection. She had only started writing the collection after she had met Tamlin; she had written about 43 of them now, one for every visit.
It had been late in the evening when he returned, he hadn’t even changed yet but he came knocking at her door, she had pulled him into a deep kiss.
“Well I guess that answers my question then, come up with me yo Rosehall. My father wants to meet you, he has agreed to let me court you but he would like to meet you first.” Tamlin had cheered happily, pulling her back into a kiss.
“I’d love too.” He helped her up onto the cream colored mare and jumped on behind her, his chest against her back.
The journey back to Rosehall was taken slower than when he had rode into the village; there would be gossip they both knew as they rode through town, he had one hand on her side and the other on the reins as they walked back to the grand estate. As they passed by shops, restaurants, homes, and the tavern people had been whispering either side of the path; neither seemed to care as they were caught up in their own conversations.
+
Dinner at Rosehall had gone off without a hitch, Tamlin’s father had approved of her and their relationship. They had spent the night celebrating with good drinks and eventually Tamlin’s father had dismissed himself to his room for the night. The two had stayed up for several more hours before they both agreed to head to bed, they dismissed the idea of sleeping in different rooms and he pulled her into his bed; she had borrowed one of his mother’s chemises to sleep in and he simply changed into loose trousers. Rosehall was quiet as the others' scent lulled each other to sleep.
A commotion had startled Tamlin awake, it had come from the opposite side of the wing; he had a gut feeling on what it was about, the scent of Iron hung in the air. He held her close, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as a growl rested in the base of his throat; she clung to his arm, her heart pounding in her chest.
His door slowly creaked open as the air began to crackle with magic; Rhysand, who he had once called friend, stood there with a look of pity on his face. “I’m sorry.”
Tamlin had grabbed the dagger from his end table and extended it towards Rhys. The two slowly exited the hall where the commotion continued, a yelp and a thud followed by a scream of agony was the only thing that ended up keeping the boys from eachother’s throats. She had ran to Tamlin the second the males both looked down the hall and turned pale, Tamlin lowered the blade and tried to cover her eyes but it wad too late and she had seen the bloody scene in the center of the hall.
Tamlin’s father was in his beast form, a giant golden wolf like creature with grand elk horns, was slumped against the wall; black oozed from the giant gash in his neck, obvious signs that fae bane had been wad the heavy sickly sweet scent that hung in the air. Across from him was a busted railing, all three had rushed forward to find Rhys’s father collapsed against the ground and impaled on some of the splintered wood; she had cried out and buried her face into Tamlins side, she should have never seen such a thing, not his little poet.
Both High Lords had twitched as the air began to crackle, they both knew what that unfortunate sound was. The males both nodded to each other and Rhys headed down the main staircase, he loomed over his father both dressed in black leathers; she watched as he stared blankly as the Night Lord wheezed his final breath, an eerie rattle that left blood seeping from the sides of his mouth. The magic in the air sharpened and separated, half ringing in her ears and around Rhysand as he absorbed the powers of the Night Lord.
The newly made night lord simply nodded at Tamlin and with a snap of his fingers the body of his father as well as his blood was gone, Rhysand turned and left the estate without another word.
Tamlin moved towards his father, who lay in beast form on the floor; the great golden hound blood gushing from the massive slit across his neck, he tried to get up and move but ultimately collapsed and blood gushed faster. Tamlin kneeled on the floor beside him, they both knew there was no coming back from this wound; there was a sorrowful understanding between the two as Tamlin dug the dagger into his fathers head, the magic buzzing loudly before his own body absorbed it like Rhys’s had.
She had witnessed so few had seen, the passing on of a High Lord and the exchange of powers; not only had she witnessed it once but she had witnessed it twice and both experiences were different, one had sent an electric buzzing through her body and the other had left a butter taste in her mouth and an ringing in her ears.
Tamlin stood and squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to see this love.” He sighed, “let’s get you back to the room, get you in a bath and then i'll clean up out here, join you in the bath, make us some tea and we can try to get some sleep if you want love?”
He had put himself between Rhys and her, had brandished that sword for her; another moment she would add to the books.
+
The courtship was easy and quick, the two eventually were married and she busied herself around the manor; Tamlin dealt with high lord duties so she could work on the bookshop, she had bought a new building lined the walls with shelf upon shelf of poetry and sold the old one. ‘The Poets Rest’ it had been named.
Lucien had found his way into their hearts and home, her husband had taken him in and defended him from his family; she had helped the fox-like male mourn his lost lover only able to imagine what it would be like if she was in his shoes, they all grew into close friends.
Then Amarantha came, having fallen for the blonde male in front of the entire court and other high lords; Tamlin’s wife, his beautiful flower, had stood her ground and challenged the redheaded general. Amarantha had denied the fight, claiming he would find his way into her hands.
The masquerade ball, she had been gifted a golden doe mask from her husband and Tamlin’s a mimicry of his beast form. Amarantha offered the two one last chance after she had taken Lucien's eye, the doe masked female trying to comfort their red-headed friend as he writhed in agony; Tamlin had stepped up in front of the two to ask what it would take for her to leave them alone, he declared he had no intention of leaving his Rosebud for her.
Amarantha hissed back a simple “We’ll see.”
Then the plagues came. Their masks bonded to their skin and panic arose, fae screamed, scratched, and ripped at the masks on their faces. She had seen many bleed out from the sheer panic, she had sought out the comfort of Tamlin only to be tipped from his arms by the red-headed general.
In the panic Amarantha had manage to hide the doe masked female that Tamlin had loved, he had thought he truly lost her and it led to him playing long with Amarantha’s plans. He led the human girl along, threw tantrums over her when he needed to, some tantrums were fake and some were real; he had learned to direct his rage and sorrow for not being able to protect her towards the human girl, all Amarantha had said to him in the aftermath was that if he played along he might have a chance to see his dear sweet wife again but the human girl couldn’t know of her. Their wedding portrait had been bitter to take down into the vaults, covered by a black cloth.
Then came the day he had to admit defeat that he just couldn’t fight anymore and just wanted to join his rosebud on the other side, but before he could declare his stance Feyre had been dragged into the throne room. He had done as Amarantha had requested now all they had to get through was her trials. Amarantha had given her a riddle and Tamlin knew the answer to it, the answer was Love, it had been a poem he referenced in his vows to his darling rose, yet he couldn’t open his mouth now if he had any chance of finding his lover.
+
Feyre had been illiterate her entire life, but when she had been tossed in the jail cell the night before her final trial she was surprised to find the hall of cells wasn't empty; a female was in the cell across from her, she looked frail and weak behind the golden deer mask.
After the guards had left Feyre had called out to the female who looked up from the book she clasped, a tattered thing with gold embossing, to ask her about the riddle.
“It's in reference to a poem.” The female had looked down into her lap, sadness deep in her eyes.
“What was the poem about?” Feyre had asked quizzically.
“A poem about Love. The answer to your riddle is love. How bittersweet it is Amarantha has picked that for you.” The female chirped back sadly.
Feyre nodded, finally able to take in the golden mask on the opposite female's face. “You're from the Spring Court.”
“Indeed I am from a small village south of Rosehall.” The female replied. “Now if you would excuse me, I'd like to go to sleep.” The female stood from her stool and curled up onto the creaky old bed.
Feyre followed her shortly after into sleep.
Then as she rested in the cell the next morning, the doe mask had fallen from her face and the bars in front of her shattered. The curse had been broken but at such a bittersweet cost, she hobbled through the halls of the mountain till she found the throne room. Amarantha lay dead in the center of the room, a circle of high lords kneeled around the human girl; except for Tamlin as Feyre’s bones snapped and reformed into those of a high fae.
Feyre coughed and wheezed in pain as she sat up from the stone floor, everyone had expected Tamlin to kneel beside her and comfort her but when they looked up at the male he was staring at the sickly fae female clutching a golden doe mask and a worn book.
“Rosebud?“ Tamlin had choked out.
“Tam.” She had sobbed back.
He had been silent and still the entire time he was under the mountain but seeing her there, seeing her alive, had awoken the part of him that had slumbered since her disappearance and he set off into a sprint towards her. He wrapped his arms around her, spinning her, and broke into a sob himself.
“I’m so sorry, love.” Tamlin had choked over his words barely able to breathe through the tears.
“It's okay Tam. I get it.” She pressed the worn book to his chest.
Tamlin had looked down at the clothbound book and thumbed over the gold embossing. “You always were good with getting your words out through books and poetry.”
“You did what you had to do to survive, my sweet warrior, Even though your poet's heart was screaming not too. You made it out Tamlin, it's okay now, we can go back to us. You don't have to be that warrior anymore.” She soothed.
“First we have to get you back to Rosehall and nursed back to health.” Tamlin had whimpered dropping his head into her shoulder.
“Then take me home and protect me Tam.” She crooned to him and ran her free hand through his blonde hair
Taglist: @tamlinweek
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covey’s 1k follower event 𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹
oh. my. god. are you shitting me??? bffr. like, seriously guys. this is INSANE LIKE WHAT. THE. FUCK. anyways, i’ll stop screaming- jk, thANK YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH. i am the most grateful person on the planet right now, you guys are so so good to me and i couldn’t be happier i started posting on here!! honest!! this wasn’t even a dream of mine- honestly?? i thought id get lost and forgotten in the tags, destined to never be found. and even THAT i would have been grateful for. so…yeah, thank you!! this feels me with a joy that can’t even be measured 🥹🫶
AIR MAIL—
playlist for fic, blurb, or hc of your choice!! (mind you, these are probs gonna be like 3 or 5 songs, nothing too crazy!!)
PACKING PEANUTS —
tweets that give off the same vibe as you or i think you would find funny!!
POSTAGE —
moodboards! either for a work of mine or any character from pjo + hoo!!
SHIP ME A SURFBOARD —
memes to make yall laugh. thats it bc im a silly girl
BUBBLE WRAP —
i pick a marine animal plushie that reminds me of you or i feel matches your vibe!!
POST OFFICE AFTER HOURS —
poetry for the soul!! poems that i feel you (or the world) needs to hear!!
NEWSPAPERS—
more little tiny blurbs!! this time around, let's get a little crazy with the characters!! i wanna write some platonic stuff if you guys are down to ask for it!! but also the romantic stuff too!!
MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE —
(moots only! sorry!) basically, i give yall a letter telling you what i think about you and things that you remind me of and whatever else i have to yap about!!
EVENT MASTERLIST —
₊✩‧。⋆𐙚 𓆝 (will be posted later)
RULES —
pls, only one option per request !!
up to three separate requests in one day, as to not completely flood my inbox !!
make it clear that the ask is for the event and not a request, please and thank you !!
event will be over on may 10th
normal requests will open april 29th (UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED)
some kindness and patience is always appreciated !!
𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞.• ° . 𓆟
𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞.• ° . 𓆟
TAGLIST/MOOTS —
@ivyy-covered-walls @puffoz @brodieland @sunshine-of-ur-life @literallyimthenerdemoji @aezuria @wren-that-writes @imasimpdealwithit @shimas-things12 @pumpkinbxtch @starrynightmovietheatre @static-symphony-fm @aezuria @ellipsisspelled @percys-princess @aryxchse @vodkori @annybah @riordanness @balletfilmss @meerpea @ssparksflyy @simha-nakshatra @waitingonher @jgracie @maybxlle @bvttoneyes @blondwhowrites @canonfeminine @chbgigi1 @crownofgildedlilies @cinemaconrad @sunnitheapollokid @pinkdiorluvr @s1utlvr
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olderbrother!skz headcanons :3
gn!reader with a scenerio w menstruation in changbin’s!
i want an older brother… anyways
bang chan
oh ho ho you KNOW hes gonna be super duper protective of u
like nuh uh the kids can NOT meet you
but u still get to hang out w maknae + jin line (closer to their age)
age gap is like three years or smth so
his parents adopted you when he was four and u were one
movie nights every weekend frfr
or atleast movie nights on call
and whenever you got tea, he’s on the ready
best best advice, like, ever
sometimes you wonder if this is his nineteenth life or smth
so wise
you painted a mug for him once
no one is allowed to touch it
it has its place in the gym bros’ dorm
sometimes picks you up and runs when your talking to someone
and if you ignore him he’ll start cuddling up to you
’channie get tf away go annoy seungmin or whatever im studying’
gives you nicknames like ‘buggy bear’ and ‘baby duck’
makes you learn languages with him
when he learned ikaw for manila, ph concert he showed you first
bc he knows you like listening to tagalog
he has videos of you singing and falls asleep to it when he gets homesick
lets you listen to his unreleased songs and tracks on his laptop
you got to make one that one time at home too
you send little messages to him thru out the day
and scold him when he’s up working
you know bc he gave you his location
you bought his bubble and constantly tease him
when he comes home he takes you and berry to the aquarium
he picks you up and spins you when yall hug
its the funnest thing ever
will not hesitate to bring up that time you ate hamster poop thinking it was choco chips
lee know
okay he’d be really scary to your friends but like a cat around you
your age gap b like, one or two years
he annoys you about anything
crushes, enemies, good animes or mangas
stuff like that
in turn you bug him about the members
’whats jisung like when hes sick’ ‘oh do you know innie’s plans are tomorrow’
he finds your hyunjin pc collection and blows your phone up
but his hugs are so nice and warm
he holds you by the shoulders and his hands go down your back
eventually he starts tickling you
but you use the self defense moves he’s been teaching you
one of your middle school friends had a crush on him
they were flabbergasted when you walked home together
buys you things that remind you of him
and leaves it on your window sill/table/bed
his favorite hoodie is the bunny w the middle finger bc you gave it to him
makes your lunch for you and leaves slightly passive aggressive notes in them, still sweet tho
although once you got a note that said
’give me back my hoodie or i’ll shove a water bottle up your asshole. xoxo lino hyung’ that was for jisung
once decided to pick you up from work to get sushi
your coworkers were like
’wow i didnt know they had a boyfriend’
you cried laughing hearing that and so did min
teased you about the fanfic you wrote when you were thirteen
and you tease him about the 2PM shrine he had
obviously you both r cat ppl
so he takes you to cat cafe dates all the time
insists on paying and saying you’ll pay next time
sends random ass pics on tour all the time
changbin
he absolutely cherishes you
like holds you up like a trophy infront of his friends all the time
youre two-three years apart from each other
he loves loves giving you piggy back rides
also loves squeezing the life out of you
youre the one he goes to when he buys something
and he’s the one you go to for relationship advice
once you took him to an amusement park
your camera roll was full of blackmail
tens of millions of inside jokes
one of the kids will fix their hair and you’ll both burst out laughing
bc once changbin ran into a pole fixing his hair
your ultimate group is newjeans so you went to a fansign
and got bin a signed teddybear
he cried when you gave it
he constantly tells you to be safe
when your going somewhere
’bye baby cub (nickname lol), be safe have fun love ya!’
when you need a little pick me up
he comes to you with your favorite ice cream flavor and his laptop
your emergency contact
one of your friends has to text him and he gets super suspicious
’cub who tf is this? why were they texting me?’
almost started a whole ass fight
its okay tho he apologized and bought chocolate
constantly tells you to go to bed early bc he doesn’t want you to ‘become like channie-hyung’
will run to get you what you need
if you got your period and arent prepared he’ll know
just sprints to the nearest cvs
even cleans up your nasty bedsheets bc u leaked
’oh dont worry cub i can handle it’
your on his close friends list on instagram
most times its just dedications to you that he puts on his story
hyunjin
his day one frfr
like your only a year apart so your tight asf
his hugs will be gentle but so warm
bear hugs>>>>
his huge ass hands will totally go around your neck for comfort
he also digs his face into your shoulder
he paints many things for you
like he’ll also give you his unfinished projects when he’s sick of them
shines when you compliment him
teaches you choreos and lets you make up some
dyes your hair often too
spa nights where its just the two of you with a movie of your choice in the bg
those are the days where you can just. let go
tea gets spilt. i mean like, you know absolutely everything abt the other atp
spontaneous karoake nights
he gets worried when you drink tho
’noooo what if you fall on your face and then it gets ruined!!’
when he’s tired or down tho
one of the members text you and you come over with your comfort box you packed for these situations
face masks, iced americanos, watermelons, fluffy blankets, llama eye masks for sleeping, an air purifier, room spray, and a huge hoodie and sweatpants/shorts bc he probs did NOT shower in his funk
when he goes home you take walks together and catch up
also you just. really like smelling his room
it smells like flowers and the perfume your late grandfather used
gifts you things from versace
his favorite colors are black and white; yours are brown and grey
picture wall of polaroids w photos u took together
you stream his music 24/7
he writes sad sad songs abt missing you
worse than hannie and his break up songs 😭
working on the maknae line!
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may i have an eighth, gelato, both, for gojo please?
part of my 420 event
best friend!Gojo x (GN) Reader
oops this is like way longer than i intended. making a mental note that i do not need to give these so much context lol
🔞 mature content. MINORS DNI. 🔞
cw: weed (reader & gojo are both high), dub-con (bc you're high lol), otherwise just fluff
Satoru grinned. The haze of being high prevented you from noticing the sinister undertone to it as he took an empty soda bottle and laid it sideways, giving it a spin. You weren't really paying attention, giggling at the way the pink in Satoru's bloodshot eyes contrasted with the bright blue, reminding you of the cotton candy ice cream he was so adamant about getting earlier.
The bottle slowed and pointed at you. "Look at that." He chuckled. "You gotta kiss me now." He leaned closer to you on the couch.
"That was rigged." You playfully pouted. You'd known Satoru long enough to know he was just joking around. He was always trying to play chicken, trying to get you to kiss or touch him. "Just us two here." But maybe because you were high, you thought you'd give him a run for his money.
"Yeah?" Another giggle escaped his lips, making you crack a smile, too. "Doesn't change, uh..." His brows knit together, clearly just as high as you were if he was forgetting his thought in the middle of his sentence. "What's the word?"
"Dunno. Am I a mind reader now?" Your eyes flickered to his lips. They looked soft and inviting. It was probably the weed talking, but you really wanted to kiss him. Your usual concerns of getting too intimate with your best friend were entirely forgotten.
"Fuck... what're we talking about?" Satoru's eyes were on you, desire apparent in his gaze.
"You were gonna kiss me." You smirked, thinking he'd get flustered and shy away. But you should have known better than that.
"Right." Satoru smiled. Taking you by surprise, he went in for the kiss, his soft lips lingering on yours. He pulled away for half a moment as his fingers gently curled around the back of your neck, tugging you back in for a deeper kiss.
His tongue slipped past your lips, your thoughts still catching up with you. Though, once they did, you started to giggle.
"What?" Satoru pulled away, speaking in a sultry tone as his blue eyes memorized the look in your face. That soft smile you wore, the gloss of your lips practically begging him for more. You were so gorgeous he could barely handle it.
"You..." You couldn't stop the chuckle that interrupted your thought. "You taste like cotton candy."
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Kay, did you get my ask that I don't know what to do bc it feels like I'm falling in love with bucktommy but I don't want to 'cause probably they're gonna break up and my heart may be broken then?😂 I'm not sure I sent it yesterday. (Tumblr really need to create a folder called "sent asks" for me)
i got the ask but i only just saw it (tumblr also needs to add a ‘REPLY TO ASK’ reminder 😖) i feel the same but i am just enjoying them so much i can’t bare to think about tommy leaving or them breaking up. and i don’t think they’d make them break up so fast after his bi realisation, it seems like if they wanted to get him out of the ‘hamster wheel’ he was already on, they wouldn’t make him break up with his new boyfriend so soon.
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if you can, do you mind doing some toby and avery hcs??
toby and avery head canons
of course, i'd love to!! i'm literally so obsessed with them, and their story literally makes me sob. hope you like them <3. @catapparently helped.
i honestly may have read a fic about this on ao3, but toby got avery a music box that played her mom singing this lullaby when someone opened it. she cried for hours in his arms.
avery blames herself for what happened to toby and the blakes, and sometimes calls him to apologize profusely (even though he's already forgiven her). he assures her he still loves her and that she means the world to him.
they don't call or see each other often except for at galas and events that the blakes drag him to. they always sneak away (with the help of the hawthornes) so they have time to talk.
hannah would sometimes tell toby that they were going to be at like a bowling alley that day or smth, and he'd do his best to show up and watch her play and have fun. he would tear up at the life he wanted but could never have.
he walked her down the aisle on her wedding day. she originally didn't want anyone to do it because she doesn't like the idea of your parent 'giving you away to someone', but when she realized who toby was and what he meant to her, that changed.
they visit hannah's grave together and just cry in each others arms. they'll tell each other what they miss most from the life they had before with her.
toby tells her about all the wild things hannah would say to him and how much she hated him at first. avery loves hearing him talk about her mother because he always sounds so in love.
toby will mail her little puzzles that he carved for her to solve. she always sends him picks of it when she's done.
avery regularly goes back to the spot where they used to eat after their chess games/where they used to play chess to feel closer to him.
toby calls her horrible girl and princess, and, when she has kids, he starts calling them horrible boy and princeps (princess in latin according to google translate) (i hc that aj have a daughter and a son)
toby gave avery the talk not because she needed it but bc he saw it as a classic father/daughter experience that he wanted to have with her.
toby wishes he was less of a coward when he was younger and actually took part in avery' life. he regrets not seeing her grow, take her first steps, her first day of school etc..
avery knows this and will sometimes send him videos her mom took of her when she was younger (we know she used to send him postcards sometimes but its not the same)
for his birthday, avery will head over to the blake's house (or wherever he's currently living), threaten the people who answer the door to let her in, and will spend a few minutes with him before she's forced to leave.
she sometimes gifts him things that used to belong to her mother
toby tried to teach her how to carve wood, but she could never get the hang of it. she tries her best and gifts him her attempts even if they suck. toby finds it very sweet and adorable.
avery has a really nice voice but doesn't like to sing bc it reminds her of her mom on her death bed (she used to ask avery to sing her her favorite songs before she died). toby loves her voice though so sometimes she'll suck it up and record a voice message of her singing.
they will send each other songs that remind them of the other.
toby has the best relationship advice (even though he's never really been in a relationship except for with hannah). when she's having trouble with jamie (very rare), she'll go to him IF possible (i literally say this in every post for like avery and grayson or nash, but i think it fits toby and avery best)
toby has an insta account avery doesn't know about that he uses to like and comment on each and every one of her posts.
toby watches all of the broadcasted events she attends, all of her interviews, etc. he's her biggest fan.
he knows she loves sushi so sometimes he'll order her some and get it delivered to her house on days where she's told him she's swamped with work.
avery's kids call him grandpa even though he's not actually their grandpa.
they love sending each other cryptic messages for the other to figure out.
they usually call each other late at night bc that's when the blakes are less likely to catch him. jamie will leave the room when this happens and let them talk.
after vincent blake died, he was more free to do whatever he wanted so he started visiting her more often. not all the time though because eve was still a pain in the ass.
avery has a bad habit of going to bed way to late and waking up way to early so toby will text to make sure she's getting sleep ('are you heading to bed, princess' or 'i hope you aren't still awake, horrible girl')
toby actually swears a lot and avery finds it hilarious. he starts to swear even more bc it makes her laugh.
toby loves sightseeing and will always be taking pictures of his favorite places (he travels a lot bc of the blakes). he sends her all of these pictures
toby tries to be cool and texts like gen z, and avery finds it absolutely traumatizing. she begs him to stop but it just eggs him on.
when avery wakes up from nightmares and has a panic attack, but doesn't want to wake up jamie, she'll call toby. he'll tell her to breathe with him and then will ask her if she's ok in a soft voice. then they'll hang up. she never talks about her nightmares and he never asks. this is literally what happens every time
toby is always sending her memes and dad jokes. she finds them embarrassing but cute at the same time.
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