#this will HOPEFULLY be the last test fic for a while

[shuaflix]

driving lessons for dummies (preview)

PAIRING ▸ kwon soonyoung x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ fluff, humor (i am bringing back romcoms), smut, strangers to lovers au, college au (WHO GUESSED IT)

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, so much pining, mc has the worst luck imaginable, soonyoung is down horrendous, he is also an olivia rodrigo stan, there is a minor car crash, there is also a very minor description of blood, almost car sex at some point, probably sex that is not in a motor vehicle at some other point if plot allows, pet names (but not in the sexy genre sorry), friend group shenanigans (ft. mingyu, seungcheol, jihoon, junhui) bc im a my little pony friendship is magic type bitch, and other warnings tba bc i haven't finished writing

SUMMARY ▸ you've finally passed your written test and gotten your permit after six failed attempts. eager to get your license while attempting to avoid overpriced driving lessons, you enlist the help of kwon soonyoung, who only requires a STIIZY pod as payment.

RELEASE DATE ▸ out now!

WORD COUNT ▸ around 12k (hopefully......)

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ i was actually very on the fence about who this fic should be for at first, but...... it was destined to be for hoshi :') also this preview is kinda short because there's so much i don't want to spoil! anywho send an ask or comment to be added to the tag list !! ♡

KWON SOONYOUNG.

Junhui sent you his number after he dropped you off at your apartment. Apparently, Soonyoung was one of his good friends, who also happened to have a side gig where he gave out driving lessons at a discounted price. Of course, the downside was that Soonyoung wasn’t exactly certified to teach people how to drive, but he was allegedly a good driver.

His lessons were normally for high schoolers, and he charged their parents around a hundred. For adults over the age of 21, though, he had a special offer that you couldn’t resist. 

You texted him to ask if he had any open spots for you. He took a few days to reply, but you eventually got a two-hour slot for the next week. You weren’t sure how effective his lessons would be, but you figured you would give it a shot since he was your age and giving out classes for cheap. 

When the day of your lessons rolled around, you were slightly anxious while you were waiting for him to arrive. You needed Junhui to reassure you for hours last night, promising that no, Soonyoung was not going to kidnap and murder you. He was a student at your university, actually, and he was a public health major who never had a murderous thought in his life.

soonyoung (driving instructor): i’m outside your house 

Okay, if he wasn’t a murderer, then the least he could do was not text you like one.  

After replying with an omw that autocorrected to On my way! and left you feeling very distressed that your communication sounded overly-enthusiastic, you worked up the courage to walk outside to his Honda Accord. 

“Hi,” you greeted shyly when you opened the door. “You’re Soonyoung, right?” 

Honestly, you didn’t care if he was Soonyoung or not. The man sitting in the driver’s seat was probably one of the most attractive people you had ever laid eyes on. Even if he wasn’t Kwon Soonyoung, you would happily let him kidnap you. Maybe you’d even blush a little because he picked you of all people to kidnap. 

He turned to look at you, seeming a little surprised that you opened the door but smiling nevertheless. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?” 

When you nodded, he got out of the driver’s seat and motioned for you to take it. You skirted around the car to sit inside while Soonyoung took the passenger’s seat. 

You also got a glance of his off-brand, beige Fear of God Essentials sweater that read M.I.L.F. Hunter instead. Classy. 

“So, you came to me because you didn’t wanna give up your semester’s worth of college tuition for driving lessons,” Soonyoung said with an overwhelming air of confidence. 

“Yeah, pretty much.” You huffed. “Here, I heard this was your payment.”

You handed him a paper bag, not bothering to take out the receipt from the dispensary. Inside was the King Louis XIII STIIZY pod. One gram. 

“Ah, good. You know your stuff.”

Soonyoung hummed as he examined the box, and you were just wondering when he would get to business and start showing you the controls in his car. You were slightly overwhelmed by his impressively relaxed demeanor. Maybe it would have been better if you settled for an uptight woman in her sixties. Pretty boys were always trouble. 

“You made the right choice coming to me. I’m a much better driver than those hags from the driving schools around here,” he continued. It was like he could read your mind; it was almost terrifying. “Plus, way less likely that I’ll get a heart attack in the passenger’s seat.” 

He was a total weirdo, but he was hot, so you supposed it canceled out in some obscure, mathematical sense. 

"That’s… good to hear, I think,” you replied. “So, are you, like, good at this?”

“Are you kidding? I’m basically the Lebron of driving.”

“I see.” You nodded along, unsure. “I don’t watch football, so…” 

“He plays basketball, but close enough.”

#svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #hoshi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #soonyoung smut #seventeen #hoshi x reader #kwon soonyoung #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung scenarios #svt hard hours #seventeen hard hours #seventeen x reader

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

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A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #human alastor #alastor hartfelt #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor fluff #alastor smut #cowboy alastor #cowboy au #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanfiction #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #the radio demon

[ghouljams]

Dear Ghoul, remember the ask I sent previously about Price being all condescending and using nicknames to mock our dear witch and how you asked about how it feels being right about it?

I think I'm pretty proud about being spot-on about it all lol.

I wish I could send you some more stuff but atm my brain is solely focused on this Gaz oneshot I'm writing :') but I'll probably gush about Fae Price and Fae Gaz later this weekend hopefully.

Anyway, the only thing I can think about is witch harvesting some strawberries from her little kitchen garden and making a lot of fruit jam, and leaving some for Fae Price outside on the wall/barrier that stands between her hut and Price's place. Along with a cute note telling him to take the jam and to use it while it's fresh and all....the domesticity of it all is just so....gentle.

This probably got Fae Price thinking about how pretty and glowing Witch would be as they go about their day in a shared space, him going out and bringing his sweet witch herbs and keepsakes to work with, testing her magic spells by trying to break it for her....just swoon.

(also can I be 🪷 anon, if it's not taken? I'd like to have some moniker so it's easy to identify my rambling on your blog lol)

AH! Imagine me pointing at my fic with Witch sitting on Price's lap: the cookies in that have home made rose jam. God the rose motif I am pushing is just not subtle, but I don't care. Witch absolutely makes jam with the fruit in her garden/the fruit given to her by clients.

I think that while Price was still waiting for the threshold to let him in he sometimes had tea with Witch. He's not a big fan of tea, but he is a fan of the scones and jam that Witch makes.

It's one of your favorite times of the day, a little past lunch when the sun in your garden is at its hottest and the Winter on the other side is the coldest. You pass Price a mug of warm mulled wine and pluck a scone from the plate precariously balanced on the garden wall. Price sips at his drink while you complain about a difficult customer, neatly slicing your preferred scone to slather jam on each half. You offer half to Price and he takes it with a small smile.

"You not drinkin' tea anymore?" He asks suddenly. You pause capping the jam.

"I'm drinking tea now," You tip your mug to show him the leaves at the bottom, "Why?"

"This is wine." He says it like you should know what he's not saying, and you do.

"Homemade," You tell him with a smile, before relenting to his stare with a sigh, "You don't drink tea." Price hums, like he wants to refute it, as if you didn't see him his a frown and furrowed brows the last time you served him tea. Granted it was pretty bitter, but there were only so many times you could pour out a half drunk mug before you figured the man didn't enjoy a cuppa like you did.

"It's good," He finally tells you. You hide your smile behind your mug, sipping your lukewarm tea.

"Good, I'll make it again." You leave off the 'for you' Price doesn't need to know he's the only other person enjoying your labors. Even if he can taste it under the spices, that you were thinking of him while you were cooking. If he didn't know any better he might think you were trying to make him fall for you. You give too much of yourself too freely, he'd be a fool not to want you for himself.

"Got something for ya," He digs a hand into his pocket, fishing out the tightly corked bottle. You're pretty when you frown, the little crease in your brows is endearing.

"You don't have to repay-" He hold out the bottle, little white stems in soft purple liquid. Your eyes light up just how he thought they would. "Ghost pipes," Your excitement is so pleasant to be on this side of. He shakes the bottle, churning the contents while he waits for you to take it. He knows you will, the way you set down your mug and hold your hands out.

"For the food," He knows you're itchy about debts, and it's easier to imply he's put a price on your kindness than try to convince you he's giving out of his own care. No strings attached, he means to say. Even though he knows you'd never buy that. Your hesitance around accepting his gifts is starting to fade. It makes him feel almost warm when you take the bottle from him. It's not a tether, it's something else. A warmth he hasn't felt before.

He'll decide what it means later. When he isn't watching your smile.

#1fae1 #fae!Price #oc: witch #john price x reader #john price x oc #captain john price #Ok I gotta get off the fae and back to the cowboys #captain price x reader #captain price x oc #I feel like I'm losing my cowboy credibility #also i have seen other people writing cowboys recently and that makes me happy #more cowboys for me to read about #I'm gonna clear a bunch of fae asks out of by inbox #and work on my beloved ranch hands #🪷 anon

[wildlife4life]

Fuck-It Friday Coda

Tagged by @try-set-me-on-fire @devirnis @buddierights @wikiangela @tizniz @exhuastedpigeon @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @disasterbuckdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @theotherbuckley and @watchyourbuck (because she just dropped a whole ass spec fic that is amazing!) Still barely Friday here, so I am not late to Fuck-it Friday and staying on my coda drop schedule. Here is my 7x03 coda! Enjoy here and on ao3! If you want to know when these codas drop, interact with this post!

They each give Bobby and Athena one last tight hug on the boat before stepping onto dry land and make their way towards the LAFD suv parked close by. Hen walked beside them for a short while, exchanging another round of thanks, praises, and reminders of being there for each other. When she spots Karen breaking away from crowd of concerned loved ones and onlookers, Hen waves them forward and goes to greet her wife.

Its almost lunch time by the time Buck, Eddie, and Chimney make it back to station, and they are all dead beat tired and starving. Chimney tries to invite them for a celebratory lunch but its cut off by jaw cracking yawn that has Eddie and Buck wincing, then echoed by their own.  The paramedic chuckles and the just as slap tired firemen join in. “Breakfast at the usual place tomorrow?”

Eddie just hums in agreement, while Buck smiles and answers, “Definitely. Let Hen know?”

“Can’t celebrate without the woman of the hour. Hopefully now she’ll pick up the phone.” Soft laughter follows, “Alright boys, I’m off to put my blackout curtains to the test. I suggest you do the same.” Chim mock solutes them both and strides out of the locker room.

Buck stuffs the sea drenched uniform into his duffle and pulls on a too cool, green hoodie.  The lack of warmth from the material on his still damp skin and adrenalin come down has him shivering.

He already knows what dreams await him when (if) he closes his eyes to sleep. A mix of Bobby and Christopher drowning in the harsh waves of the ocean, screaming for Buck to save them and him failing to do so before being pulled under himself.  

A chill shoot’s up his spine so piercing, it has Buck inhaling sharply and flinching forward with both hands, slamming his locker close. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie whip around and drop his own duffle as he scurries over to Buck’s side.

Warmth finally seeps into Buck with the press of Eddie’s hand to his shoulder and the shivers lessen. “Hey, hey it’s okay. Everyone is okay.” Eddie soothes, his breath ghosting the back of Buck’s neck, warming him further.

Buck takes a deep breath, “I know that, Eddie. Just…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to get rid of Bobby and Christopher’s waterlogged features.

Eddie’s grip tightens but doesn’t let the silence of Buck’s loss of words linger for long. “Bobby’s place is on the way to the diner, so we can stop by in the morning.”

Buck cocks his head in confusion, “Um, I know your tired and all Eds, but Bobby’s place is definitely a detour to the diner from my place.”

“Good thing you’re coming back to mine then.” Eddie states with no room argument and a little bit of the tight fear in Buck’s body seeps out. Eddie’s house means he can physically see Christopher is safe and nowhere near the turbulent waves they pulled themselves out of just a few hours ago.

“Okay.” He agrees, then softly adds on, “Thank you.”

Eddie pats his shoulder, “Don’t thank me for having your back.”

🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️🛳️

Christopher is well into school by the time Eddie and Buck make it back to the Diaz household. Buck has to take a few deep breaths outside the kid’s empty room, reminding himself that he’ll see him in less than four hours. Eddie gives him a sympathetic and understanding grimace before shoving him towards the bathroom.

The heat of the shower washes away the remaining chill and ocean salt clinging to his skin, replaced with the comforting scent of Eddie’s products, a mix of citruses and cedar. A pair of gray athletic shorts, fuzzy blue socks, and his blue sweatshirt that has been missing since before Buck’s lightening coma, are waiting for him on the bathroom counter when he open’s the curtain.

Buck pulls on the items of clothing and is taken by surprised by their enveloping warmth. His heart squeezes in his chest, knowing Eddie must have tumbled the clothes in the dryer while he showered.

Making his way back to the living room, Buck finds the older man lounging on the couch in a pair of cut off sweats and another one of Buck’s missing sweatshirts, this one dark green. “Are you the sweatshirt thief?” Buck accuses light heartedly, flopping down next to said thief and pressing into his side, shoulder to thigh.

Eddie shrugs, unbothered and unapologetic, “Cheaper than buying my own.”

Buck gaffs in mock offense but doesn’t even argue or hide how much he likes seeing Eddie in his clothes. Just another thing the man does that soothes Buck’s shaken nerves.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Buck wraps his arms around them then drops his head onto Eddie’s shoulder. Without hesitation, Eddie’s head falls to rest on his still damp hair. “Thank you for the clothes and bringing me here… for having my back.” Buck whispers.

He feels Eddie’s head turn slightly to nuzzle his nose into Buck’s curls.  His partner’s lips brush against Buck’s scalp as he speaks, “Last time I’m saying this, you don’t need to thank me for any of it.  That’s not how it works for us.”

Buck lets out a slow breath, “Yea…. I know, but that will never stop me from appreciating you and everything you do. I will never not be grateful that you have my back.”

“Well,” Those lips drift downwards to Buck’s temple, Eddie’s voice sending delicate vibrations across the skin and muscle and casting a whole different kind of shiver through Buck’s body, “I’m just as appreciative and grateful for you too.”

Buck doesn’t quite know if he imagines it, with how he has been drifting to sleep since falling to the couch, but he hopefully believes he felt the firm press of Eddie’s lips to his temple that lingered past platonic.

And when he feels Eddie’s breaths even out across the top of his head, Buck can hear the echo of their gratitude and appreciation fade into discreet exchanges of I love you’s.  Those echoes with Eddie’s warmth, keep the nightmarish tides away, allowing Buck to truly rest.

Very belated tagging: @theotherbuckley @perfectlysunny02 @aroeddiediaz @loserdiaz @diazsdimples @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @rogerzsteven @lemonzestywrites @evanbegins @buck-coded @glorious-spoon @thekristen999 @spotsandsocks @sunshinediaz @lover-of-mine @hoodie-buck @elvensorceress @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @jeeyuns @bekkachaos @thewolvesof1998 @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @eddiiediaz @honestlydarkprincess @doublecheekeddiaz @prosperdemeter2 @transboybuckley @nmcggg @monsterrae1 @missmagooglie @thebloomingheather

#fuck it friday #late fuck it friday #tag game #coda fic #7x03 #my fic #911 abc #911 spoilers #911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #silent i love yous #soft boys #eddie takes care of buck

[thenyxsky]

Can I request a Dottore x reader fic where reader says that they’ve contracted ligma and he genuinely ask “what is ligma?” ?

DUDE IM ON THE FLOOR LMAOOOO

I DON’T USUALLY WRITE CRACK BUT U KNOW WHAT . anon i like ur style so. here u go! if u ever see this then i hope u enjoy!!! this is set when dottore’s still a student at the akademiya i hope u don’t mind 😭 <333 

SPOILERS: Dottore’s real name (heavily implied by interactibles across Sumeru)

“Zandik!”

Your lover startles, gloved hand snapping away from the Khaenri’ahn machine sample he was about to begin tinkering with. His jaw clenches, irritation rushing over him, because every time he tells you not to interrupt him while he’s working, and still you continue to do so. Do you test him on purpose? Do you want him to snap?

(Do you not know of the horrible temper he possesses and how badly he wishes to keep it away from you, a person who chose to love him despite the repercussions—disapproving looks from Akademiya staff and students because of him, snide comments about your character because of him, dozens of relationships lost because of him—a person undeserving of the sharp words that will leave his lips when he does lose control?)

Zandik’s lips part, a request for you to ‘leave him be so he can focus’ already on the tip of his tongue. Hopefully this time, you will listen, he thinks, fingers tightening ’round the wrench in his hand. Hopefully this time, you will get it. Hopefully this time, you’ll stay away. 

When you rush into the room however, clothes wrinkled and red in the face, his mouth snaps shut and he sets the tool down immediately.

Your name comes out in a breath as you come to a stop in front of him, his hands hovering over your sides. “What happened? Are you alright? Why are you—why are you in such a rush? Is everything okay?”

“Zandik,” you start, eyes locked with his—then immediately fall into a coughing fit. You fan at your face, bent at the knees. “Sorry—sorry—just give it a moment—”

“Why’re you in such a rush?” he means to ask in a worried tone, but it comes out in a snap instead. He winces. You ignore it. “What’s going on?”

A finger raises above your hunched form. “One moment please. Just”—you cough again, wave him away when he steps forward—“one. Give it a second.”

He gives it a second. He gives it two seconds. You’re still coughing up your lungs by the fifth second. Zandik decides enough is enough and moves for the glass of water on his table, but you put up your hand again, give one last pathetic wheeze, then clear your throat and straighten up.

“I should join you on your runs,” is the first thing you say.

He rolls his eyes. “Why were you in such a hurry?”

You blink at him, unresponsive for at least three moments, then drop your shoulders. You look almost defeated, he thinks with a frown. He doesn’t like it when you’re sad—defeated. The same thing, really. Point is: why do you look like that?

“Zandik,” you say for the third time. “I was just at the healer’s—”

He frowns. “Sadiki?”

“Who else? But yes, so I was just—”

“Why were you at Sadiki’s? [Name], are you hurt? You look fine. Are you sick? What’s going on?”

“Zandik, he says I’ve contracted something.”

His heart drops into his stomach. No. “What? But it’s—it’s nothing serious though, right? You’re not going to—it’s not terminal?”

You bite your lip and duck your head away from his sight, hands twisting together.

“He says…” You pause, and he tenses, preparing himself. “Sadiki says I’ve contracted ligma.”

Zandik's frown deepens. Ligma? He’s never—is it terminal?

“What is that?” he asks. “Is it terminal? I’ve never heard of it, but if it is—is there any cure? I’ll find a cure. I’ll make you a cure, I swear—[Name], is it terminal?”

Your shoulders are shaking, face still turned away from him. Are you crying? No—but that would mean—

“Zandik,” you say shakily, and he takes your shoulders in his hands so he can pull you into a hug, “ligma balls.”

Ligma balls? He frowns. Ligma—ligma balls.

Ligma balls.

It hits him.

Ligma balls.

He forces you into his arms, turns you, and finally sees your face. It’s pinched. Scrunched up. 

In laughter.

You’re not crying. You’re laughing. Your shoulders are shaking because you’re laughing.

He shoves you away.

“Zandik,” you laugh, keeling over, “lovely—”

“Don’t lovely me,” he snaps. You laugh harder. “You—you fucking—”

“My sweetest darling—”

“Fuck you, [Name]!”

“Any time,” you only just manage to say between wheezes. He goes beet fucking red.

“Get out of my damn room!”

#dottore x reader #genshin impact x reader #crack #il dottore x reader #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #i write the best at night #hopefully when i wake up i won't regret posting this LMAO #i had fun writing this im ngl to u #very different from my usual extreme angst and fluff #a good different!!

[lix-ables]

the escort.

pairing — lee minho x reader | fake dating(?)!au

word count — 1052 words

rating — 18+ mdni.

genre — smut, includes teasing, slight hand kink, teeny bit of fingering, light biting, mentions of deep throating and slight corruption.

NOTE — yes i may have read the kiss quotient a long time ago and fell in love with michael phan, and that inspired this, what about it? shut up i maybe a closeted hopeless romantic after all. hopefully this fic makes up for the next two weeks till my tests are done sigh. but also hello hi @tasteleeknow please take this as a mini birthday gift tehehe and for also omg being such an amazing writer??? also @lino-nyangi i need help this man is just

it was that damn shirt again.

the same black buttoned down shirt he wore when he first walked into your apartment and had you laid out on your couch, kneeled down on your floor while his fingers made their way all the way down to your thighs and squeezed them. just once. but the look he had in his eyes, and the cocky smirk that sat on his now cold face, the stare that never left you when he had you whining and weak in his arms as he let those same fingers tease your inner thighs, tracing circles to your skin which made you shiver.

how many button downs does this man own?

“already?” minho lifts up a brow, interrupting your thoughts, when he spreads your legs before his eyes set on the stain at the centre of your underwear and you cursed at yourself mentally. “and, i haven’t done anything yet,” he sighs, watching your face once again as he lets his fingers trace that same stain, eyes searching for any signs of visible pleasure on your face, making you feel like he was staring into your soul. “i asked you a question, darling.” “mhmm,” you nod, humming at the sound of his voice – it was low, almost gravelly you noticed, but now wasn’t the time to think about how his voice was, especially now when minho was in the process of getting you completely stripped out of your clothes.

but this was not supposed to happen. this thing(i) with minho was supposed to be a one time thing – to forget about your annoying ex with his stupid dick inside someone else’s cunt and yet here you were, for the third time this week, with this man’s fingers ready to fuck you, again. here you were, for the third time this week, in your apartment when you’re going to find yourself waking up to him leaving at the crack of dawn, just after making sure for the fifth time that you were well taken care of. the third time since the month started, with your mind filled with just minho’s fingers, and the way he bit lightly yet expertly, if you had to put it, into your inner thigh, marking you almost, as you sat in your bathtub, and fingered yourself twice(i) till your body could no longer take it, and your thighs were shuddering. then you remembered, that was just this afternoon, before you got out to meet him. how does he fucking do that?

if your either of your best friends saw you right now, not in this specific position of you, on the couch, your hair in a messy bun, ready to be brain-dumb with no thoughts in your head except for how gorgeous and addictive this man’s hands were – you didn’t want to think about it.

“your head’s not here,” minho whispers into your ear, leaning away from you and stands up, buttoning up his shirt again. you blink your eyes  at the man in front of you, propping up on your elbows as you watch him closely. “w-what?” you mumble at, you weren’t sure if what you said even made sense to him. “i said your head is not here, darling. you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“i was just thinking about the day before,” you let out. the day before. the last time you saw minho, and the last time you went on a dinner with him, where he took you to a restaurant near your apartment, one that you never really went to before, and then brought you back home safe, with his palm resting at your lower back as he guided you inside before pushing you lightly up against the wall, locking the door behind him while his fingers tucked your hair behind your ear, his eyes on you the whole time.

“what about the day before?” minho asks, sitting down next you, picking your legs up and resting them on his lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing more patterns to your bare calf. “i liked it,” you smile a little, getting shy right after as you play back what exactly happened the day before. “you know i like it when you use your words, hmm?” minho says after a moment of silence, leaning back on the couch and tilts his head to face you properly. his fingers never stop for a minute, distracting you from what he was saying. “tell me, what about the day before?” he hums, finally grabbing your attention, a small smile visible on his face now. “i can tell you what i liked about it,” he sighs, lifting a hand up, raking his fingers through his now tousled hair. you hum in response, the sound left your throat, you realised, and you found yourself turning red at the noise you made.

“the day before, was the first time i made you come against the wall. i couldn’t take you past the door that day,” minho recalls, his fingers coming to a stop on your thighs, resting there before continuing, his eyes closed. “you should’ve seen how pretty you looked, with your hair let down, and your fingers clutching onto your dress because i told you to, and my face between your pretty thighs. i wanted to mark you up that day, red, maybe some purple too, if you let me,” he opens his eyes again, only to find you staring at him, your face pink from how shy you were getting at his words.

“the day before, was also the first time i wanted to fuck your throat. i wanted to fuck your throat since the first time i laid eyes on you, but i thought, you’d be too shy, too precious to break. until of course, you came for me, five times, if i counted right, with your legs shaking and my fingers deep inside that cunt,” minho finshed, this time, getting up from where he sat, and moved to the floor again, his hand in yours, pulling you with him, as he made you sit on the couch.

“you’d let me do that again, won’t you?” he mumbles, bringing your fingers to his lips, kissing your fingertips as his eyes looked at your face. “you’d come for me again won’t you, darling?”

taglist. @hwajin @starlostseungmin @chrisbahng @niinjo @chvnnie @lixhues @joonszn @cherryhanji @blueberry-chan @dnadoublefelixx @ethereallino @stuckwithaphobiaa @chewryy @bangchanbabygirlx @zizis-world12 @aimeexx @whatudowhennooneseesyou @nightlychans @americanokisses @katieraven @comet-falls @hwan-g @svintsandghosts @idek-at-this-point-lol

#q: away ‹/3 #stray kids smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #skz smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids lee know smut #lee know imagines #lee know hard thoughts #lee know smut #lee know hard hours #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #skz lee know smut #lee minho smut #stray kids minho smut #skz minho smut

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 24

Fic masterlist

I’m so happy to get this one out!! I’ve been thinking about this chapter for an insane amount of time. Enjoy!

Warnings: sex shop stuff

Words: 3,3k

Of all the times Rowan listened to his dumbass coworkers out of curiosity, he never thought he’d follow through with any of their advice. Yet, there he was, in the rope section of Doranelle City’s newest sex shop.

At first, he couldn’t believe that an old small-ish supermarket closed, and in its place someone opened a giant adult shop. Then, Rowan couldn’t believe he came here to check what the fuss was all about. He had more than enough confidence to stand tall while checking the most bizarre aisles, but he wasn’t used to picking and choosing vibrators the same way he did his groceries.

Still, regret was the furthest thing from his mind when he saw the lingerie section.

There, hanging between lots of blacks and reds, a scrap of golden fabric caught Rowan’s attention. After hurrying there with his basket, he took a good look at it. The tag said ‘three-piece embroidered lace garter lingerie set’, but he was struggling to understand where each part went. All he saw was so many straps around the sheer lace that was the actual lingerie, and gold. Not yellow—real, metallic gold.

This. He just found the perfect, most selfish apology for those ripped panties.

Getting the bra sizing right was a struggle, though. Rowan squinted at his hand, muscle memory mimicking how it grabbed Aelin’s breast, and tested the different sizes on his palm.

It was almost time to go, so he made his way to the clit vibrator section. Aelin’s only one was attached to a penetrative stimulator, and while it was great, it didn’t quite fit this specific idea he had in mind.

However, right before entering his aisle of choice, Rowan spotted an awfully familiar blonde head.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Retreat.

He stood where Aedion couldn’t see him and checked the time. A little more and he’d be late, which wasn’t an option. Rowan was going to pick Maisie up at school alone because Aelin wanted to take a nap after work—he couldn’t afford to wait until Aedion left.

In a bold move, Rowan entered the aisle, standing on its end while the other man was in the middle. He wouldn’t be able to see everything, but hopefully enough to pick what he needed.

Still, he kept an eye on Aedion, briefly glancing at him every now and then while looking at all kinds of clit suction vibrators.

In one of those times, Aedion was already looking at him. Shit.

For once, he was glad that the families didn’t know about his relationship yet. Aedion had no idea that he was here with ravishing Aelin in mind, and the last thing Rowan wanted to know was the purpose of the other man’s… purchases.

Turquoise eyes met pine-green, but he still looked around to see if the Aedion was looking at someone behind him. Nothing. They were alone in this aisle, staring at each other for what felt like ages.

Rowan took a step forward. “Hey,” he said in a stiff greeting.

“Hey.” Aedion’s greeting was almost a wince. “You…”

“Just buying some stuff.” Rowan’s neck felt on fire with embarrassment as he played nonchalant. He hid the chosen purple clit sucker deep inside his basket, as if the man beside him hadn’t seen it already. “For myself.”

“Same.” Aedion’s unusual lack of words was a relief.

Rowan eyed the vibrator and anal beads inside the man’s own basket. Well, good for him.

˜˜

“YOU’RE SORRY!” Maisie shouted on the garage floor, trashing in her father’s arms.

“I’m not, love, you can’t play drums while your mother’s asleep.”

The little girl screamed louder, tears streaming down her already puffy face. After a lot of improvised, unpolished drumming sessions, Rowan and Aelin enrolled her in weekly lessons. While they encouraged the little girl to keep practicing, her learning process was hard on their eardrums.

It broke Rowan’s heart to see Maisie like this, but work has been running Aelin ragged lately; he couldn’t allow their daughter to play when her mother was finally letting herself rest.

Still, the little girl threw herself on the floor, then threw a drumstick at her father. The wooden mallet hit him in the chest, and though it didn’t hurt at all, its weight wore down his thinning patience.

Who. The fuck. Gave. This child. Drums.

He drew a deep breath to calm himself, but it didn’t stop his Dad Voice, as Aelin would call it. “Maisie Whitethorn,” he chided, “if you throw another one of these… forking sticks at me, you won’t see them again for a helluva long time, you hear me?”

Defiant as the day she was born, Maisie held her head high despite the teary eyes, squared her shoulders, picked the same drumstick off the floor and threw at Rowan again.

That’s when the unwavering patience he reserved for his daughter snapped.

Blood boiling, he threw her over his shoulder—her five-year-old body was lighter than a potato sack anyway—and left her in the garage, ready to put her in time-out for eternity. Maisie trashed, likely hurting his back as she did it, but it was hard to pay attention to it over the pounding on his ears, caused by anger and her shouting both.

“What’s going on?”

Aelin’s voice coming from the living room stopped him short. Rowan took in his girlfriend’s messy hair and slightly puffy face from her nap on the couch; his heart sank with the realization that she woke up anyway, and it was his fault.

“I told her to stop the drums so you could sleep, then she threw the drumsticks at me and is about to get grounded for eternity.”

Aelin gestured for him to pass Maisie over at the same time the little girl wiggled out of his grip, even with her head on Rowan’s back, away from her mom; it sometimes stunned him, how in sync these two were.

She sat with their still crying daughter on her lap. “Maisie, we don’t hit the people who feed us.”

“Or anyone,” Rowan added, eyes hard.

He was a firm believer that, sometimes, violence happened to be the last and only resource to resolve things. It wasn’t a good lesson to teach a little kid, though, especially when she could think that a minor conflict at the playground required extreme solutions.

Aelin wiped out Maisie’s tear-streaked cheeks and combed her hair out of her face with her fingers, showing a gentleness she rarely showed for people outside her family. “Do you understand why we’re upset with you, honey?”

“Daddy said I’d be in trouble if I threw another stick!” The girl’s high-pitched voice cracking and raspy as she tried to defend herself. “I didn’t! I threw the same one!”

Rowan’s mouth fell open as he felt disoriented with his daughter’s Aelin-like defense. If she was like this at five years old… he didn’t want to think about what would happen in ten to twelve years.

“Maisy Daisy,” Aelin warned in a calm yet alarming tone. “You know you shouldn’t have thrown that stick at all.”

“We can’t find loopholes for hitting people,” Rowan added, still stunned, and looked at Aelin. “She’s still getting grounded. Maisie’s not playing anything if she acts like she was raised in the wilderness ”

“But I didn’t throw another stick!”

Aelin winced, and from her looks she seemed to say she has a point, Buzzard. A sigh. “What about cutting drumming time in half this week?”

Maisie gaped, outraged.

Rowan tilted his head, pretending to think this through. Reducing something instead of cutting it off usually worked best in his family, but he still threatened with the worst option for impact. When suspended something completely, if Maisie didn’t convince her father to suspend the punishment at all—which completely weakened his authority in the long term—she’d have several more meltdowns they couldn’t avoid because she was still learning to regulate her emotions.

“Sounds reasonable,” Rowan finally said.

However, Maisie shook her head. “I don’t like that.”

Aelin snorted. “You’re not supposed to like your punishment, honey.”

They settled in the living room when Maisie cooled down, her and Fleetfoot playing in the mat as quiet Rowan could expect a kid and a puppy to be.

He and Aelin stayed on the couch, her soft body resting half above him, in a drowsy state.

“It’s almost dinnertime,” he said. “We could order pizza.”

Aelin’s only response was a grimace, but Maisie’s loud cheer made her agree to it.

Rowan would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. For days now, her sleeping and eating patterns were off, and it could only mean one thing: a depressive episode.

He knew it, because he studied it. He had every sign engraved in the back of his mind, alert for when she needed him again, to not let her down again. Ready to be there and support her in any way he could, Rowan just didn’t think she would be the one to evade him.

He thought they were better at communicating, better than this, but each time Aelin shut him off and said she was feeling emotionally good, just a little tired even if all signs pointed otherwise, his heart sank with doubt.

“Hey, Buzzard.” Aelin ran a thumb over the crease between his brows, where a frown must’ve formed at some point during his musings. “What got your feathers all ruffled?”

Well, since she asked, he might as well tell her. “I—“ Rowan’s eyes zeroed on Maisie. This wasn’t something to discuss in front of a little kid. “Mais, it’s almost time to go to your mother’s. Can you go pack your bag?”

“No,” the little girl said, plain and simple as if his request wasn’t a polite order.

Aelin sat back, leaving their cuddling position with both brows up. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll go pack my toys to go to my other house, then Dad’ll go with us, and we’ll do the same things we were doing before, but in another house. Every. Time.” Maisie’s brows remained drawn together, her little arms crossed. “I’m so tired from packing my toys that much.”

Rowan and Aelin both froze, staring at their daughter after this bomb she just dropped. To be fair, Maisie was completely right. They kept the same custody arrangement as before, but one parent would follow the other to be together, so the three of them were basically going from one house to another.

He could point out that packing a bag of toys wasn’t nearly as much work as the packing her parents did, but Rowan didn’t want to argue with his daughter because he agreed with her. They were so worried about maintaining a steady routine for Maisie, they weren’t expecting her to point out that this arrangement made no fucking sense anymore.

And most of all, Rowan really wanted to take a bunch of next steps with Aelin.

“We’ll take this into consideration,” Aelin said, reluctant. “For now, you’ll still have to pack your toys.”

Maisie got up and complied, but not without grunting a few complaints, Fleetfoot hot on her heels.

The second their daughter closed her bedroom door, Aelin jumped on Rowan, trapping him with both arms on the couch.

“She’s right, you know?”

Rowan snorted. “You’re taking advice from a child now?”

Looking oddly invigorated by how Maisie brought up the subject, Aelin was undeterred. “Let’s move in together.”

Yes. Rowan opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. “I thought you wanted to take things slow.”

The three-month mark she requested to tell people about their relationship was so close he could taste it, but no matter how much Rowan wanted to test her boundaries, he couldn’t. She was the one to request them, which made him question this sudden change of heart.

An adorable blush creeped up her neck and cheeks. “Because that’s the responsible thing to do. Don’t you hate being responsible sometimes?”

Rowan chuckled, amused, because not being responsible was never an option for him, the only exception being when it came to Aelin. Still, they weren’t two twenty-somethings moving in together on a whim to share rent. They had logistics to discuss, Maisie to think about, and their on-base housing that would be incredibly hard to regain if either of them gave up on it.

He kissed the bony tip of her nose. “We can talk things over until we’re ready, yeah?”

And by that, Rowan meant that he just wanted to wait long enough to be sure she wasn’t crossing her own boundary in an impulse decision she’d regret later. He was so fucking ready to move in with her for real and stop ironing his uniform at 5:30 a.m. because it got rumpled in his bag.

Aelin nodded, eyes intent on him. “Sure. That’s where we’re headed, right? Moving in together, I mean.”

“Fuck, yes, we are,” he said while giving her a crushing hug.

With a silly grin, Aelin cupped his face and kissed him. It was sweet and shallow, since they were smiling too much to deepen it, but Rowan loved it. Every kiss with her, every time, it blew his mind.

However, they were brutally interrupted by a high-pitched scream, painfully loud in a way only horror movies could muster—and Maisie, apparently.

The little girl stood rooted where the hallway met the living room, panicked green eyes widened with the sight of her parents making out.

“Why— WHY’DYOUKISSDAD!?”

Aelin slowly detangled herself from him, and Rowan’s mind was going a mile a minute. Of all the parenting preparation he did, no one ever taught how to explain to your child that you’re dating their mother.

“I was kissing your father because we’re in a relationship now.” Aelin’s voice was gentle, but it left no room for argument.

Rowan added, “We were planning to tell you soon.”

Maisie was still frozen in place, and he felt like beating himself for letting his daughter find out about his relationship this way.

“Honey, I—“ Rowan scratched the back of his neck, feeling his face heat. One might think they were two teenagers getting caught by their parents, but it was actually two thirty-somethings explaining themselves to a five-year-old. “Your mother and I, we’ve been very close lately. Sharing a bed. Are you actually surprised that we’re dating?”

Maisie narrowed her eyes on her father. “I share my bed with Fleetfoot. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re right,” Rowan agreed, determined not to taint her innocent way of thinking. “But we’ve also been spending all our free time together. You see us cuddling plenty and—“

“I thought we were cuddling all the time because we’re a family and we love each other, not because you’re boyfriend and girlfriend! Ew!”

Aelin leaned closer to her on the couch. “Maisie, love, can you tell us how you’re feeling?”

The little girl eyed her mother’s phone on the coffee table, grabbed it and ran away, locking herself in the bathroom as quickly as she could.

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. He was so throughly fucked.

The day Maisie learned how to call her grandmother, he knew he’d never know peace again.

He sighed. “I think she—“

“She absolutely is.”

Rowan met her gaze, slightly panicked, and stared at her grin with no small amount of confusion. Something about him made her burst, so she held onto his arm, shaking and losing her breath with laughter.

“That’s not funny!” He looked between his girlfriend and the bathroom door that hid his distraught daughter, not knowing what to do.

“Come on.” Aelin leaned on him, her outburst subdued. “It is a little.”

Rowan relaxed back on the couch, letting himself think about what happened in a different light, and the corners of his mouth quirked up. “The way she never suspected anything…”

“Ugh!” Aelin hugged him tight. “I want her to stay this little forever.”

“She did grow up too fast,” Rowan said in a pensive tone, and it made him think about how much he wanted to watch other tiny people grow up with Aelin. One thing at a time, though. “She’s likely telling my mother everything before the three-month mark, and—“

“Your mom will tell everyone she knows.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“It’s okay. I mean, we were close to the mark already, but…” Aelin closed her eyes and breathed deep, a small smile on her lips as she finished. “I feel great. It’s not how I wanted to do it, but I feel like it was about time.”

“Okay.” Rowan kissed her cheek. “I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it.”

Aelin caressed his face with her thumb. “I’m very okay with it.”

Her face was a breath away from his when his phone rang.

Mom

Aelin mouthed good luck at the same time he took the call.

“Rowan Whitethorn, you are in so much trouble.”

“Is that so?” he asked, unbothered by his mother’s dramatic antics.

“I cannot believe I have to learn from Maisie that you’re dating again!”

“I couldn’t hide it forever, it’s not my fault Maisie ruined the reveal we—“

“Every night, I prayed to Mala for you and Aelin to get together—for years, Rowan. Years! And when it finally happens, you can’t even bother to let me know…”

He tuned his mother off when his daughter left the bathroom, looking calmer, and sat facing her mother.

“Maisie’s here. I’ll have to hang up.”

“I’m not finished—“

He hung up.

Sitting back beside Aelin, he asked, “Do you feel like talking now, Mais?”

The little girl crossed her arms. “Are you married?”

Rowan’s eyes bulged out. “No—“ He sneaked a quick glance at Aelin. “I mean, not yet. Why’d you ask?”

His daughter hummed. “So you have a kid and you’re together, but you’re not married?”

“Yes.”

“This is weird,” Maisie mused, sitting on an armchair before them. “You tell me that people choose boys or girls to have kids, puppies or kittens with, until death or divorce; but you mixed it up and you’re doing it all confusing.”

Rowan winced. “I’m painfully aware of that.”

Aelin cleared her throat, focused on Maisie. “My relationship status with your dad might’ve changed, but nothing about you ever will. You will always come first, and we’ll always love you very much, no matter what. This doesn’t change anything for you.”

“Anything?” Maisie asked, perking up.

Aelin slowly nodded. “Anything.”

“Do I still get two Yulemas gifts?”

Cackling, Aelin squeezed her daughter in a hug. “I don’t know,” she said in a playful tone. “Rowan, does she still get two Yulemas gifts?”

“Huh.” Rowan tilted his head, pretending to think hard while a warm feeling spread through his chest. “I don’t know, I guess she’ll have to wait and find out.”

Aelin winked—she knew that being an only child and only granddaughter on both sides, Maisie was spoiled rotten by her family on Yulemas. “Any other requests?”

“No kissing!”

Aelin gasped. “No kissing?” she asked in a dramatic, almost theatrical way for her daughter’s amusement.

Maisie shook her head. “Nuh-uh!”

The mother pouted. “Then how am I going to do this…”

Next thing they knew, Aelin was pecking quick kisses all over the little girl’s face, earning those high-pitched squeals he adored so much. Rowan watched that scene, grinning and with a familiar tingling in his chest, when his phone rang again.

His mother, of course.

He showed Aelin the screen. “I should take this before she books a flight.”

“Sure.” She bit her lip, looking unsure. “She sounded angry before.”

“Actually, this is her best-case scenario for my love life. She’s just upset that I didn't tell her sooner.” Rowan kissed her cheek. “I’ll be right back,” he said before leaving to answer this phone call that could take anything between 20 minutes and 2 hours.

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin fireheart #throne of glass #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #rowaelin fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #look at us now

[hey-kae]

Driving Lessons

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

Request: Your content has been keeping me FED!!! Ok I am back with another request possibly if you felt inspired because your writing is just so good!!!!! Maybe a fic with Charles where he teaches you to drive a manual car? Like let’s you learn on his Ferrari maybe? Could turn smutty or just stay cute fluff :)

Warnings: language, unprotected sex, quickie in the car mainly (ended up including smut cause it’s been a while)

Sidenote: Happy race weekend! (Hopefully🥲) Finishing this while watching FP2 felt like a peak f1 fan moment. I’m really sorry this took so long but the few past days were rather messy. Next requests will be up faster i think.

It had all started a bit over a month ago when Charles had asked you if you wanted to try driving a Ferrari, only to receive an embarrassed «I don't know how to drive manual cars" as a mumbled answer from you.

Charles, who was basically required to have that knowledge due to his career, seemed to forget that most people didn't know how to operate a stick-shift vehicle. Something in him made him want to teach you so he didn’t hesitate to make the proposal.

"Chérie, most Ferraris aren't even manual but that is not the point. I want to teach you how to drive a manual, if you want to obviously.” He had replied. Fast forward a few days, you had ended up together in a manual car in an empty parking lot with you panicking in the driver's seat and Charles watching you with ultimate entertainment from the passenger one.

Needless to say, that first teaching session ended

miserably with zero progress being made. The two of you were highly impatient what had inevitably led to some bickering before Charles drove the two of you back home in tense silence that had stuck around until you both caved in and apologized later at night, not being able to withstand many hours without talking to each other.

The second teaching attempt was currently in progress.

“Fuck! Fuck, I can’t do it.” Your shaking hands wrapped around the steering wheel in a death grip as you panicked and felt your heart racing.

Charles, who was sat in the seat beside you, was staring at you with undiluted amusement, the smallest smile ghosting over his lips as he watched how nervous you were.

“Baby, start the car first.” He chuckled, his hand reaching over to squeeze your tensed ones as they remained fisted around the steering wheel, “And, relax.”

“But, you said i have to step on I don’t know what pedals before starting the car. Why is this so complicated?!” Your eyes kept scanning the empty parking lot for any threat as your anxiety levels rose the more you thought about being the one controlling the car.

“Yes, step down on the clutch and turn it on. That is easy, I promise. You did that just fine last time.” He shot you a reassuring smile that did nothing to reassure you.

Taking a deep breath, you looked down at your feet, moving your left one to step over the clutch pedal.

“Mon amour, you can’t look down every time you have to have to step on a pedal. You’ll crash.”

“Shut up, Charles. Why the fuck did i agree to this?” You snapped at him as you turned the engine on, hearing it hum to life.

“See? That was easy. Now, put it into first gear.” He asked, testing if you remembered how to do that from last time but doubting that you would given your reaction to his words.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear in a fidgety manner, you attempted to concentrate and recall Charles’ instructions from last time. You looked down at the gear stick, trying to remember which direction you needed to move it in.

“Right…” you trailed off, “bottom right?” You grimaced, knowing that it was most likely the wrong direction.

Sighing, Charles shook his head no.

“Non, chérie. Top left.”

Groaning in frustration, you moved the stick as instructed and turned to look at him, feigning annoyance.

“Now what?”

“Hand break off.” You did that as he spoke, “Step on the gas and get the RPM to around 1500, then slowly -and i mean slowly- lift your foot off the clutch.”

You nodded, mainly to encourage yourself and hesitantly followed Charles’ instructions, trying to ignore the fact that his hand replaced yours on the hand break as soon as you put it down as a precaution.

When the number in front of you reached the desired mark, you lifted your foot off the clutch pedal a bit too quick and the car jerked forward.

“Doucement, mon amour!” Slowly, my love.

“Alright, alright!” You said, much too distracted by the fact that the car was actually moving and you were driving it to care for Charles’ reaction.

Following that, everything seemed to fall into place. Charles taught you when to change gears and how to do it. That caused some slight issues since you kept getting confused on which direction you were supposed to move the gear shift in but Charles, in an usual display of patience, kept showing you what to do, giving you soft praises when you’d finally get it right, sometimes taking your hand in his and softly kissing your knuckles.

“Look at you, you’re doing so good!” He giddily smiled when you shifted from gear 2 to gear 3 without his help. An equally big smile had taken over your face as you moved the car slowly but surely around the parking lot. It felt like an accomplishment, maybe a small one but an accomplishment nonetheless.

“Next step has to be a Formula 1 car.” Charles joked, keeping his face straight to see if he’d get a reaction out of you.

You briefly glimpsed at him in disbelief, hoping that he was joking.

“Fuck, no. That is where i draw the line.” You replied with determination, shaking your head, making it clear that you refused the offer.

Charles laughed at your tone, the sound making you smile as his dimples showed and his laughter rung through the car. You loved hearing him laugh, it gave you butterflies and eased all the worries you could ever have.

“I love you.” The words naturally slipped out of your mouth as a reaction to his laughter.

“I love you too, and i’m so proud of you.” He said back, still watching every move you made to ensure you were doing everything right.

“I literally only drove a car around a parking lot.”

Charles shrugged, “I love seeing you do things that scare you no matter how much you are scared of them. C'est l'une des raisons pour lesquelles je t'aime tant.” It’s one of the reasons i love you so much.

His words made you heart dance so you slightly turned to face him, a smitten smile taking over your face as you took in his expression and the way he was looking at you so lovingly.

He was distracting, sitting there with his half buttoned shirt and slightly messy hair. A bit too distracting considering the fact that you were behind the wheel, in charge of the vehicle carrying the both of you at the moment.

“Eh, regarde devant toi, chérie.” Hey, look in front of you, darling. Charles’ tone quickly turned back serious as he noticed you nearing a curb. He reached over and turned the steering wheel himself, ending the moment quite effectively but for a highly reasonable reason.

“Oh, yeah.” You continued turning the car in the opposite direction, still feeling his gaze all over you as you took the vehicle for yet another turn around the empty space.

“I could watch you drive for hours, mon amour.” He said, now a bit more relaxed in his seat since you seemed to have memorized the basics.

“Trust me, i feel the same way. You look so hot when you’re driving and it’s just-“ you realized you were going down the road headed straight towards rambling so you rephrased, “But, yeah… You watching me drive for hours is never gonna happen ‘cause I, in fact, won’t be driving you around for hours, monsieur pilote professionel de course.” Mr. professional racing driver.

Charles laughed at your statement, blushing slightly at the compliment you had slipped there.

“Don’t worry, i like being the one driving. This is so stressful, mon amour.” He chuckled.

“Do you want to try driving on the road?” He asked after few seconds of silence, “There isn’t a lot of traffic today.”

You hummed as you considered your options. You could get on the road and completely nail it or you could get on the road and crash into something. Or worse, someone.

“Let’s say i try driving on the road and it goes - how do i say it - badly, to phrase it lightly. Would it be all over social media within a few minutes?” You asked with a grimace.

“I think so, yeah… You want to try?” He smirked.

“I say let’s save the international embarrassment for next time.” You cringed at the thought of having multiple people discussing a mistake you made.

“I think you should try. You will not crash, i’m sure. I think.” His eyes were already watching the cars speeding by outside the parking lot.

“But, Charles-“ you began protesting but was quickly cut off.

“I’ll be right there with you, love.” He squeezed your thigh comfortingly, “If you feel like you don’t want to do it anymore, we’ll just park on the side and switch seats.”

This could go so wrong or so right. There was technically barely any middle ground.

“I feel like i’m gonna regret this but ok.” You complained, heading hesitantly and slowly for the exit.

“Check both sides.” Charles instructed, leaning over himself to check for incoming cars.

“I know, i kinda have to do this in automatic too.” You sarcastically spoke, reaching over and pushing him back so you could see the other side of the road.

Despite his unwavering hatred for being in the passenger seat, he was finding this experience highly entertaining.

Once you deemed it safe, you joined the ongoing traffic, blending in with the surrounding cars fast enough. Luckily, this was a skill you had acquired a long time ago when you first learned how to drive an automatic.

“Safe rejoin?” You teasingly asked.

“An okay one, i think.” Charles grinned at you.

Out on the road, you drove well enough for your first time, only making minimal mistakes. Even Charles had admitted to you that this was going better than he had expected. It was all nearly perfect until you reached a busier road with an intersection taunting you from a bit down the street.

You found yourself panicking and continuously checking the mirrors even when you didn’t need to do that.

“Tell me what’s wrong, mon amour.” Charles immediately took notice of your change of demeanor.

“Fuck, there’s an intersection, what do i do? This is stressful.” You rushed the words.

“Hey, relax. I’m right here. Do you want me to drive?”

You nodded, thankful that he asked.

“Park there.” He pointed to yet another parking lot off the street and you did that gladly, following his instructions on how to properly stop the car. Once the vehicle was parked, you huffed out a breath of relief and slagged in the seat.

“I’m not doing that ever again.” You said just as Charles spoke as well, “You did so good.”

He chuckled at the difference of spirits before softly calling your name.

“Je pense vraiment que tu as bien conduit pour une débutante.” I really do think you drove well for a beginner. He reassured, his hand grazing your thigh as if to confirm his words.

“That’s a polite way to say you sucked, better luck next time.” You mocked, turning in your seat to face him, letting him see your accusatory looks.

“I promise you, it is not.” He laughed, taking your hand in his and caressing your skin softly.

“For the sake of my ego, I’m choosing to believe you.” You smiled and pulled him in for a kiss, feeling his soft lips against yours as your hand cupped his face.

“We didn’t fight this time.” You pulled away to point out, your eyes studying how Charles’ skin seemed to glow as golden hour neared it’s ending, the dark threatening to take over in a few minutes.

“Thankfully.” He beamed and gave you a peck, “Je pense que ça a quelque chose à faire avec comme c'était seduisant de te voire conduire comme ça.” I think it has something to do with how attractive it was to see you drive like that.

You blushed and looked away, watching the sky darken through the windshield window.

“I wouldn’t exactly say it was significantly impressive, unless you like seeing me nervous. We did have to stop after all.” You argued, feeling Charles fingers wrap around your forearm, wanting you closer to him.

“Trust me, it was still hot.” He helped you over the center console, guiding you to straddle his lap as he mentally thanked god for how obscure this parking lot seemed to be, fenced by tall trees that shadowed it.

His hand immediately grabbed onto your waist, guiding you to sit on his lap rather than hover over him.

“It was this hot, ma chérie.” Charles pushed up his hips, letting you feel how hard he already was.

“Oh.” You barely said, feeling yourself getting wet from just that slight friction.

“Yes, oh.” Charles giggled before bringing his lips to yours in a passionate kiss that held as much lust as it held love, his tongue clashing against yours in a hungry manner.

“I need you, mon amour.” You felt the vibrations of his words against your lips.

“Yours to take, Charles. Always.” The words and your hands traveling down to palm him made him groan and pull away from the kiss as he felt you undo his pants and wrap you hand around his cock, feeling just how hard this had made him.

“Fuck, baby. We could’ve stopped earlier.” You said, moving your hand to push down your own pants and underwear, leaving them to lay on the car floor.

Charles didn’t say anything back. He just pulled you closer and began kissing your neck, mumbling for you to “just do something”.

Having suddenly become just as needy, you did what he asked you to. Your hand wrapped around his cock and you guided him to your entrance, sinking down on him, feeling him stretch you out and poke at your deepest spots.

“Oh god… Charles.” You whimpered, resting your forehead against his shoulder so you’d give your body a minute to adjust.

“Right here with you, love.” He rubbed your back, feeling you clench around him.

Once you had adjusted to the feeling of being so full, you started moving, bouncing on his dick slowly and watching his reaction to the movements. His lips parted as his head fell back against the headrest, his eyes closing as he took in how good you felt around him.

Car sex wasn’t a common reoccurrence for you and Charles since he seemed to always get filmed while simply just driving around so the unfamiliarity of this made it much more pleasurable, especially since the lack of surrounding space forced your bodies closer than ever.

You leaned closer until your chest was flush against his and kissed his jaw, moving a bit faster once you felt his grip on your waist tighten.

Having regained a bit of self control back, Charles bucked his hips, pushing deeper into your wet pussy.

You moaned as you felt him so deep.

“Oh, fuck. Charles…” You breathlessly squealed, having lost authority over your voice.

“Je sais, chérie. Feels so good, doesn’t it?” He kissed you, muffling the whimper you had used as a reply and pushing you backwards so that your back touched the dashboard.

The kiss turned sloppy as you felt his hand travel down your body, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach as he thrust his hips into you.

“Is this okay?” He asked, feeling the movements of his cock inside you against his palm.

“Shit, it feels…so good. Fuck.” He felt you squeeze him, affirming your claim.

You pushed him back and took charge of the pace once again, moving faster against him, making him moan as he continued moving his body in sync with yours.

You were already feeling your orgasm build up and judging by the sounds Charles was making, he was feeling the same.

“I’m not gonna last long.” You warned, already feeling yourself clenching around his cock.

“Me too, don’t worry.” He said, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit, increasing the stimulation.

That made you moved faster, eager for a release as you felt yourself getting closer until your movements became sloppy and you finally let go. You came, moaning Charles’ name breathlessly.

Knowing you needed time to recover, he took the lead, using his hands to steady your body as he thrust his hips up repeatedly. A few pushes was all it took for him to release his cum into you, exhaling in relief as he did so.

Charles hugged you close as the two of you sat still to catch your breaths, whispering small sweet remarks to you, telling you how much he loves you.

“This is way better than arguing, mon amour.” He smiled, combing his fingers through your hair as he smiled.

“Yeah, I actually like the way this lesson ended.” You chuckled into the embrace, feeling Charles’ lips kiss your temples.

“Then, i have to find a way to convince you to drive a manual again.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No need. If you promise that every lesson will end like this, i’ll drag you out of the house to go driving everyday.” You chuckled, kissing him briefly.

“Vraiment?” Really? He teased, lifting your body up a little to pull out, “How about we go back home and i fuck you again?” His eyes staring into yours were challenging you as if you’d ever say no to that.

“Ça sera parfait.” That would be perfect. “Hurry up and get driving.” You said, leaving a few open mouthed kisses down his neck.

“Fuck, I’m getting hard again.” He fiddled with his pants, buttoning them and getting out of the car to get in the driver’s seat, leaving you in the passenger seat, pulling your underwear and your pants back on and chuckling to yourself as you watched how he was rushing to get the car going.

It was then that you decided that maybe learning how to drive a manual car wasn’t so bad after all.

#charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 x reader #f1 oneshots #f1 smut

[1wh4re1]

Rivers and Roads

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Well, here we are, friends! I’m actually writing it here is the first chapter in my Ghoap x F!Reader fic. I know this is short but I do hope y’all enjoy it. If you would like to be added to or taken off of the tag list let me know! I appreciate all of the interest and will hopefully be coming out with regular updates! 

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Chapter 1: After the End 

Six tests. All positive.

You’re sitting on the toilet in your hotel room just trying to breathe. You’re pregnant. You suppose you have no one to blame but yourself. It’s not like you three used protection all of the time, assuming your birth control would be enough.

It's eleven weeks after Johnny's passing and the morning of day six of your two-week leave. You had been feeling sick the past several days, brushing it off as a bug you caught during travel. You managed to put it all together when, of all things, a tampon fell out of your purse. You realized that you missed your last cycle but with everything going on with Makarov you never caught on.

Your immediate thoughts turn to Simon. You have to tell Simon. Oh god, you have to tell Price too. He’ll want to pull you out of the field. Desk duty has never been a favorite of yours. You groan and put your head in your hands, you guess you're cutting your leave short.

Trashing the tests, you call the front desk while you browse airlines and hope you can get a refund on your room for the remaining days. 

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The twelve-hour flight to London does nothing to soothe your nerves. In fact, the closer you get to base the worse your anxiety becomes. You aren't sure how you will break the news to Simon. You aren't even sure how he'll react given the current circumstances. He's been tracking Makarov, often working days at a time and leaving for short solo recon missions.

When you arrive you head straight to his office, hauling your duffle bag with you. You knock and wait for his gruff "enter". When you do open the door, you immediately notice the scattered papers and multitude of files on his desk, so unlike the organized man you know. The bags beneath his eyes are dark, accentuated by the plain facemask he wears.

You set your bag down at the door letting it softly click shut behind you and head around his desk, sitting on the edge adjacent to him.

You sigh, "Hi love...when was the last time you slept?"

"Doesn't matter," he grunts, he doesn't even bother looking up from the report he’s reading.

"You have to take care of yourself. Why don't you come to rest for a bit? I'm tired from my flight and we could both use a nap."

"No."

You blink at his harsh tone. You feel your frustration bubble beneath the surface. "Simon. You need to realize your limits right now. It's important for-"

The loud scrape of his chair across the linoleum interrupts the rest of your sentence. He turns to you for the first time since you've entered and your eyes widen at how angry he looks with you.

"What I'm working on is important. You need to grasp that concept or leave so I can get back to work."

You push off your desk and stand toe to toe with him. You've never been one to back down and your anger is now fully on the surface. "I understand it's important," you hiss. "How could you think I don't? You weren't the only one who lost him. He wouldn't want this." You deflate a little and in a softer tone, you ask. "We still have us, Simon. You won’t fight for us too?"

"The best things about us died with Johnny and you know it. You don't matter! We don't matter!” He hunches in on himself a bit before he mutedly says “The only thing that matters is finding Makarov."

His words pour over you like acid and you flinch, tears stinging the backs of your eyes. He never raises his voice at you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. "I love you, Simon, I do, but I can't watch you do this to yourself. If this is it, if this relationship is not worth fighting for, then this is over." You meet his eyes, waiting for him to say something. When he does nothing but stare back at you, you nod and turn away. Snatching up your duffle bag you head out of the room and slam it behind you without looking back.

There are other people in the hallway who stare as you pass, having heard your little drama. You keep your head high despite the redness in your eyes and face, avoiding their gazes as you make your way to your old quarters. You don't think you can stand being in your shared room surrounded by all the things you have lost. 

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Tag list: @thefictionalgemini @ghostslittlegf @oniiloma @astro-ghoul99 @http-paprika

#ghoap x reader #ghoap x female reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #female reader #ghoap cod #call of duty #my stuff #rivers and roads

[pandorasprongs]

CHAPTER FOUR | come home to my heart.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SUMMARY: jamie tries to get reader to forgive him.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: hello! sorry for such a long wait, i've been on vacation. i also haven't been able to proofread huhu but hopefully the interlude prepped ya'll for this moment because a good chunk of this one is from jamie's pov! don't have much to say because i don't want to spoil much hehe but enjoy jamie's comeback!

Losing Jamie for a second time felt the exact same: like absolute shit. Except this time, you were an adult and couldn't sulk in your room all day. So for the next few weeks, — aside from said crying sessions — you've been dragging yourself to all of your lectures and powering through office hours as if nothing happened.

You already told Liv about it the morning after, and after seeing your bloated face and the fact that you had a massive hangover, she decided to withhold her 'I told you so' speech, much to your relief. 

It was unraveling the exact same way as last time and the cherry on top was the fact that Jamie wasn't reaching out in any way, shape, or fucking form. No texts, calls, or anything. 

Every now and then, you'd think about reaching out yourself. It was you who yelled at him that night and told him to leave, but you would shake your head every time. No, if Jamie really wanted to preserve your relationship, he would have to be the one to reach out. You got to say your piece and that's it.

And maybe you were being a little petty, taking down all your photos with him from the shelf and stuffing them in a box with all the tokens from Jamie that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away, but at least it stopped you from nearly breaking down every time you passed your hallway.

Jamie wasn't taking it so well either, despite what you assumed.

After that night, he had this sinking feeling in him. He knew he fucked up, — ghosting you and treating you like a complete stranger at the pub in front of his teammates, — but it hurt even more hearing you shout and tell him how badly it fucked you up.

To this day, he doesn't know why he did it, really. Maybe it was the fact that he felt guilty for never talking to you after you left. Or maybe you were right; he cared too much about what his teammates thought that he ended up hurting you in the process. But no matter the reason, he ruined one of his most important relationships that night.

So what was he going to do? What he always did. Ignore it. Focus on the season, despite the fact that Richmond has been on a losing streak since the West Ham game. While Jamie might be off his game because of you, he wasn't going to acknowledge that. Just bury it and hope it disappears.

It wasn't until after the fifth match in the losing streak that he got a message from an unknown number he was forced to confront it. 

Hi Jamie. I'm Liv. I'm not sure if (Y/N)'s mentioned me, but I'm one of her friends and I got your number from her phone. I was hoping to talk to you soon when you're free.

So now, he was sitting in a white office like he was waiting for some test results. It didn't help that the person sitting in front of him was in a lab coat, either.

"Sorry, I know it's weird we had to do this in an office." Liv started and Jamie straightened up in the chair. "I thought you'd want somewhere private to talk."

"Right."

"Yeah, so you're probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you. Uhm, (Y/N)'s been a little off recently. She told me about what happened, which I honestly saw from a mile away, but that's not the point." Liv sighs before continuing. "The last time this happened, back in uni, she practically quarantined herself in her room till her parents came and picked her up. She barely ate, and barely talked to anyone. It was terrible. And I can tell that she's on the way to that again."

Jamie's eyes widened, filled with guilt once again, but he said nothing.

Something about his reaction just triggered something in Liv. "Right, so I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but what the fuck are you doing, man?" The footballer moved back in his chair, but Liv wasn't dismayed. "Why haven't you called her? Or even texted or something."

"I," Jamie's completely at a loss for words. "I thought that she didn't want to talk."

"What gave you that idea?"

"She told me to leave that night so harshly, so I thought..." Jamie trails off, realizing how terrible that reasoning is after saying it out loud.

Liv is thinking the exact same thing, causing her to roll her eyes. "Come on, Jamie! You can't actually think she wants nothing to do with you now. She won't ever say it, but do you know how many times I've caught her checking your contact to see if you've sent anything? She misses you and seeing how shit you've been playing these past few matches, I think it's safe to assume that you miss her too."

Despite this woman being a complete stranger to Jamie, he's suddenly compelled to admit, "Just because she misses me doesn't mean that she wants me back in her life. And I don't think I should be, to be honest." She's better off without me. 

Liv's expression finally softens and she looks down at her desk before saying, "She at least deserves an apology."

—

It had been a few days since then, which Jamie had been using to think it over. He knew Liv was right; he needed to apologize. He just didn't know how. And of course, he had to talk to the most emotional man he knew.

"Jamie! What brings you here?" Ted who, despite the team losing yet another game, greeted quite cheerfully. It almost made the football player turn right back around because he wasn't sure if he was in the mood for his coach's relentless optimism.

But he knew there wasn't anyone else he could go to, seeing as you were obviously unavailable, Keeley was way swamped with her new company, and telling his mum would be indirectly telling your parents too. He shuts the door behind him and moves to Ted's side of the office. "Right, um, I was hoping to talk to you about something."

His coach seems to pick up on Jamie's uneasy demeanor and leans forward with a sympathetic look on his face. "What's up, buttercup? Should I gather the diamond dogs for this?"

Jamie, recalling the name that the coaches and Higgins called themselves, was quick to reject the idea. "No, no, I'd rather not have them find out about this. Uhm, look, I know I haven't been doing my best recently,—"

"Oh, we'll get a win soon bud, don't worry." Ted is quick to reassure the player and while Jamie appreciates it, he shakes his head.

"No, I know, but that's not it." Jamie takes a deep breath before continuing. "It's just, I've been a bit distracted recently."

"Is this about a girl perhaps?"

"No," though Jamie thinks about it for a second. “Yes, but no?" Seeing the slight look of confusion on his coach's face, he explains, "A while back, I reconnected with an old friend. She was my best friend actually, back in Manchester. We didn't exactly end on the best of terms and it was my fault. But when we met again, she told me that I didn't need to apologize."

Jamie continued to recount the past few months to his coach, from his blind date to the Bones & Honey incident, along with what he did to you in the pub all those years ago. 

"So now, I don't know what to do. Her best friend said I should apologize, but I don't really know how. I'm not really the best with these types of things." Both of them still remembered how long it took for Jamie to get the team to forgive him when he first came back.

Ted takes a second before responding, trying to figure out the best thing to say in this situation. "You know Jamie, I've always thought the simplest ways are sometimes the best ones. Overthinking things tends to complicate them more. You want to apologize right? How'd you used to do it when you were kids and you threw your little tantrums at each other?"

"Coach, I don't think bringing her chocolate is gonna work this time around." Jamie gets flashbacks to your first-ever argument as kids. Jamie accidentally ate the last slice of chocolate cake that you had unofficially saved and you stormed out and locked yourself in your room for an hour. 

All it took was Jamie sliding a bar of chocolate through the bottom of the door, explaining that he got hungry, and promising to save her a slice of cake the next time they had a party. You ended up sharing the bar with Jamie.

"Probably not. But in all the times you fought, what were the things that got her to forgive you? What did you say that made her understand your side and know that you actually were sorry for what you did? And how did you prove to her that you weren't going to do that to her again?" Maybe if Jamie thought about this advice later tonight, it'll make more sense, but right now, only one question was occupying his mind.

"D'you think she'll forgive me?" He thinks out loud.

"I honestly don't know Jamie, I don't even know who she is. But if you show her how much you care like how you're showing me right now, I'm sure things will be fine." Ted, now standing, offers a comforting pat on the back.

Without looking up, Jamie whispers, "I never meant to do this to her. To hurt her like that."

"We rarely ever mean to hurt the people we love." Ted offers.

Love. Yeah, Jamie thought, he did love you, even after all these years. Especially after all these years. What, with all the 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' bullshit.

"All we can do after is try to atone for our mistakes and hope they forgive us. And even if they don't, at least you leave knowing you tried." Jamie nods his head and thanks his coach for the advice.

As he got into his car to leave the clubhouse, he pulled out his phone. Hi, are you free tonight? I was hoping we could talk. 

He anxiously waited for your reply and started listing all the places he had to pass by before heading to your place if you even answered. But before Jamie even left the car park, you already replied, Sure.

—

Maybe you had been hoping for Jamie's message more than you thought. You were in the middle of the lecture when you got his message, so while your class passed the handouts around, you took the chance to grab your phone and reply.

So now, you were anxiously waiting in your flat, still unsure of how you were meant to feel about all this. You knew there was still anger there, but you weren't sure if exploding on him relieved that feeling or made it worse. A part of you also felt guilty for it too, for not even giving him a chance to apologize in the first place. Maybe instead of awkwardly letting him inside later, you would've been having yet another movie night together.

That's what he was going to do now right? Apologize? You didn't really press on for my details when he messaged you earlier. You just hoped that seeing him again will trigger the right response to whatever he had planned.

You heard the doorbell ring and suddenly, it felt like your heartbeat quickened. You take careful steps towards the door and after mentally preparing yourself for whatever this was going to be, turn the doorknob.

"Hi," Jamie greeted, in the most awkward way possible for a guy as confident as he could. You notice him holding a box of LEGO flowers under his left arm and a pack of chocolate nuggets in his right hand.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you jokingly ask, "Is your apology just going to be flowers and chocolate?" though it may have come across as harsher than you intended.

"No, but uh, in case you changed your mind about talking to me when you saw me, I thought this would at least get me through the door," Jamie explained and you slowly nodded your head.

"Well, you were right." You take the things from his hand and let him inside. 

You had already cleaned up the place before he came over and hidden all the messy catalogs and test papers in your room for the time being. Its current condition could honestly pass as one of those display sets in department stores.

You placed the items on your dining table before turning back to Jamie who was awkwardly standing in the middle of the living room.

You didn't want to delay this any further. "So, why'd you want to talk?"

"Right," Jamie started, still unable to look you in the eye. "I wanted to say sorry for not messaging you these past few weeks. I've just been busy and Richmond's been on a losing streak too,—"

"Is that really all you wanted to say?" Your tone was soft, but even you knew you were being blunt. You just couldn't handle the sinking feeling of anxiety in your chest anymore and while you might be rushing him, you just wanted to get this over with.

"No, it's not." Jamie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He moves towards you and starts looking at you intently. "I'm sorry. For everything. You deserved an apology and an explanation a long time ago and I can't go back in time, so I want to do it now."

He pauses for a moment, and when you realize he's waiting for you to say something, you respond, "Go ahead, Jamie."

He nods his head and almost looks like he's psyching himself up before a match. He takes another deep breath before continuing.

"I wanted to start from when I started to get distant. I never told you, but after I started at Man City, dad came back into the picture."

"He did?" Your voice was barely a whisper, and you're unsure if he even heard it because he keeps talking.

"You know how he is, right?" Of course, you did. 

Growing up, you knew the exact times his dad would be coming over. There’d be some beat up car in their driveway and if you looked out your window, Jamie’s window blinds would be down. During the early years, you’d ask your mom to call their house, but after the first time and about a ten-minute call with Georgie, she started telling you they were busy. It was only after that outlying car in their driveway disappeared that Jamie would come knocking at your door, asking to play. He'd have this air of discomfort the first few days, but you were so happy being able to see him again that you’d end up ignoring it.

"Anyway, he was on my arse that whole time. He always had something to say after every match about how I fucked up or, how shit I'd been. Even if I was just sitting on the bench, he still had something to say. It was exhausting," You could tell that Jamie was starting to get angry at the reminder of his father, and without thinking, you reach out to hold his hand. Jamie seems to relax at your touch and when he seems to have composed himself, you let go.

"He would go on about the same things. Don't be soft, it's the fucking Premier League and shit like that. I just, I wanted it to stop. And I thought that toughening up would stop him from him getting under my skin. That meant removing everything that did make me soft, vulnerable. One of those things was you, but I realized now that it was in a good way. As in, I only ever felt comfortable and safe when I was with you." Your eyes widened at his confession and you felt tears threatening to fall.

"But fuck, Dad was really in my head back then. I thought that you were making me weak. And I hated the thought of him calling me that. So I stopped picking up your calls and messages. I just blocked you out.

"But when I started to realize I was becoming a prick, I thought you'd never want to talk to me again. That you'd hate me and it wasn't worth trying to get you to forgive me. Plus, Mum always had great stories about you, so I thought you were better off without me. I guess that's why I was such a prick back in the pub, pretending I didn’t know you. Might as well lean into it if I already lost you." At this point, you were resisting the urge to envelop Jamie in a hug and never let go, but you knew he wanted to finish his piece.

"And I know that it doesn't change the fact that it was a shitty way to treat someone I loved, but it's the best explanation I can give you. I really am sorry." Jamie held your eyes, emphasizing how genuine he was being. Someone I loved, did he really just say that? But he starts again before you can even consider what that meant.

"And, I really am trying to be better. I want to be worthy of staying in your life, if you'll let me. This time, I promise I'll never leave you like that ever again."

You were processing his words and couldn't answer immediately, so Jamie added, "And if you decide that you don't want anything to do with me, then you'll never have to see me again. But I promise to keep trying to be better even then."

You continued to stay silent and Jamie took that as your answer. "Right, so that's all I had to say, so I'll be out of—"

You wrap your arms around him, stopping him mid-sentence. The footballer is slow to reciprocate it, but when he does, you're transported back in time. It feels like you're eight again, and Jamie's football team just won the finals. It feels like you're fifteen again, and you've made up during a midnight run to the grocery after a stupid argument. It feels like you're seventeen again, saying goodbye to the only boy you've ever loved.

"I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you yet, Jamie. To go back to how it was before." You finally answer, and if you're being honest, you don't think you ever could go back. "But I want to be able to," you whisper and you feel him relax even more in your arms. "Just, don't fuck it up and leave again. Because I'd really love to have you in my life again."

"I promise I won't." And this time, you believe him.

A/N: and there you go! the angst is over! (or is it? muahaha) some cameos from liv and ted to help snap jamie out of it :) i had written jamie's apology monologue the same time i wrote reader's angry monologue from chapter three with some slight revisions when i put them in their respective chapters, so hopefully it matches up well stay tuned for the next chapter!!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamietarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @taytaylala12 @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt reader #ted lasso #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #it's nice to have a friend series

[b4b3tte]

MAY THE BEST MAN WIN

꒰ ⊹ ˚ Summary — Erron black decides to test the waters by flirting with you in front of Kano, but with him having some slight possessive nature,, he cannot let that happen any further without going down with a challenge

Pairing — Erron!Black x GN!Reader! X Kano!Reader

Contains of — Flirting, Pet names, jealousy, slight possessiveness, semi-argumentative behavior

My note — i am officially going on a MK writing spree, hopefully you enjoy this!! If you like it and would like to see more dont be afraid to send in a part 2 request or an idea of what you want to happen next, reader can be female or male, I’m trying to make my works as inclusive as possible!! Enjoy, Besitos 💋

Part two

Kano couldn't believe his eyes as he watched Erron Black, a rival he had crossed paths with many times in the past, shamelessly flirting with you.

Erron constantly looking at you up and down flashing his charming smile trying his hardest to make you feel enchanted by him,

As Kano watched from Afar His jaw clenched, and a dangerous glint flashed in his eye.

You and Kano have had some tension between you two before, recently you guys almost shared a kiss 2 weeks ago on a mission on a military base but obviously went to shit as it was ruined when Sonya and Johnny made a surprise ambush with Cassie& the others BUT THAT IS BESIDES THE POINT ( lmk if u want a singular fic on that)

As Erron Black continued his charming advances, Kano decided he'd had enough. He swaggered over, his usual bravado on full display. "Well, well, what's goin' on here?" he sneered, casting a knowing glance at you.

Erron raised an eyebrow, not one to back down from a challenge. "Just havin' a friendly chat with your lovely friend here, Kano," he replied, his eyes locked with yours.

Of course Kano's response was a mixture of his characteristic sarcasm and intimidation. "Friendly, eh? Y'know, darling, this one here might be a good shot with his guns, but I'm the real danger."

Erron chuckled, his voice smooth as whiskey. "Well, now, Kano, I've heard about your dangerous streak, but I reckon we're all just tryin' to have a good time, aren’t we hun “ he says the last 3 words looking at you

You felt like a pawn in a bizarre showdown between these two strong personalities. Kano's actions were driven by his jealousy and possessive nature, but there was an underlying concern for your feelings.

Kano leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You see, sweetheart, he might be good with a gun, but I've got a silver tongue to match."

Erron Black, undeterred, leaned in from the other side. "Now, sugar, you don't have to choose just yet. We can all have a little fun."

As the bickering went on and on it was extremely obvious Kano isn’t down for a good time and doesn’t like sharing what is his, as it continued, you couldn't help but find the absurdity of the situation amusing.

Kano's antics, while often misguided, were a testament to the depth of his affection for you and the way he tried to assert his presence, even in the face of competition from someone as charismatic as Erron Black.

Kano's grin widened as he locked eyes with Erron. "A competition, then? Winner gets a kiss from the lovely Y/n."

Erron smirked, accepting the challenge. "You're on, Kano. May the best man win."

In the end, Erron Black may have started the flirtatious banter, but Kano's presence was a bold reminder that you were a coveted individual, and he was willing to go to great lengths to make sure you knew it. The flirting contest, despite its chaotic and comical moments, was a testament to the unconventional dynamics at play.

My next post is Kano X Reader Semi-Flirty Introduction Dialogue!! Let me know if I should post immediately or wait until Saturday?! Otherwise thanks for reading!! Have a wonderful day and remember you are enough!! Besitos 💋💋

#fanfic #x reader #female reader #headcanons #b4b3ttee #fypage #requests #kano x reader mortal kombat #mk x reader #mk x you #mk x y/n #mk1 2023 #mk kano #mk11 #kano mortal kombat #male reader #x female reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #erron black #erron black x reader #erron black mk #kano x reader #kano mk

[annesthaeticc]

lovers rock | sherlock x fem!reader

| Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

| one shot , song fic

| 961 words

| 'because love can burn like a cigarette, and leave you alone with nothing...' What Sherlock and Y/N had was beautiful, but it crashed and burned.

A/N okay bear with me it's short, but hey it's something, right? testing the waters asi hopefully hopefully come back into writing. let me know what you think!

————————————————————————————————

“Such a small world,” you quietly said and watched as the air escaped your lungs, echoing your words. The party inside was loud, but not loud enough for the silence outside was piercing yet calming. And so, he heard you. Slowly, he turned to see who spoke and found your silhouette, your shape outlined amongst the trees and the pillars.

Slowly, he walked towards you. Yet another mistake he was about to make. For all the choices he made that involved you, it led to one.

One. Big. Mistake.

Sherlock heard his heart thudding. Crashing and breaking in every step he made towards you. You sat there frozen, your eyes unblinking, or at least trying not to blink for you feared that if you do so, he might disappear.

Just like he did back then.

Sherlock sometimes wished he never pursued you, but here he was, about to do the very same thing. He never learned.

“Indeed it is.” he replied, his very perfect presence now crowding over you. His shadow embraced you and your eyes finally blinked only to find he was still there, standing in front of you.

He was taller. His face is more defined. His curls, curled to perfection. His perfume was the same, or is it? His lips fuller, more inviting than ever.

Sherlock noticed this, and cannot help himself but do the very same. You were perfect in every shape and form, as the day he met you. He committed crimes before, but his favorite might be the one he is about to make; to kiss you.

Silence passed by the small distance between you and him and it was almost deafening. You were waiting for him to say something. Something along the lines of “I’m sorry I left you…” And he was doing just the same, waiting for the words like “I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you…”

“Best man leaving early?” you finally said, shyly asking. He nodded and looked away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, cutting you off before you could even say anything.

“I was invited, well not just me really, Ian and I were…” your voice trailed off as your husband's name left your lips. Again, he nodded.

Ah yes, Ian. Sherlock knew more than you. He is decent enough, this Sherlock could guarantee. But not decent enough to leave you on your own for days, even weeks or months on end while he was traveling the world on some sort of opera tour. Sherlock didn't care enough to dig for more details.

All he knew was deep seated anger and sadness.

And this resonated through the walls of the second floor of 221B Baker Street for months. Your wedding invitation sent for him lay hopeless on his desk, waiting to be written on to confirm his invitation. He was about to decline after finally making a decision that went on for weeks, only to find out it was pointless to respond because your wedding was already done.

And so, he threw the invitation in the fire. He watched as the intricate paper got swallowed by the flames, melting into ashes, into nothing. He was mesmerized by it. How something could be nothing because of the burning flames.

He was shaken from his thoughts when he saw your hand, holding a packet of cigarettes. You were offering him one and Sherlock accepted. You sat down again on the bench and he followed, allowing a few inches between you.

Quietly, the two of you smoked. Avoiding glancing or talking. You were caught up in a trance and were shaken out of it when you felt movement. Sherlock stood up and stepped on the cigarette. His shoe dug into the grass as the last of the embers glowed.

“Going somewhere?” you asked.

“Home.” he replied, his voice deep.

“I could drive you.” you offered.

“No thank you. I’ll catch a cab.” he replied, slowly walking away.

“Sherlock, wait, please—” you caught up with him and offered to drive him once more. He declined and you almost gave up.

His figure faded into the darkness when you cried out, “Sherlock, I'm sorry.”

Tears flooded your eyes and you couldn't help. It fell from your eyes, flowing down your face. Everything was blurry and you felt your hands shaking from the nicotine and from the adrenaline of your apology.

“It's been 12 years, Y/N,” he replied. “Why are you saying sorry now?”

“Because…”

“You will not tempt me to play one of your games, Y/N. Not this time. Not ever again.”

“Sherlock, please,”

“I'm sorry? Is that all you could think? You left me, Y/N,” he cried. And now you see his face. Anger, despair, and longing painted his face,

“You left me first!” you accused him. He really did.

“And yet you couldn't wait for me, couldn't you? All the promises I made—”

“Were gone as soon as you disappeared, Sherlock.”

“Oh ye of little faith!” he said, his voice booming.

“Sherlock,” you breathlessly begged. “I'm sorry.”

Sherlock heard you, and saw your eyes. He hated you for marrying someone else, but what he hated most is seeing you cry. He pulled out his handkerchief from his jacket pocket and dabbed your face, wiping away the tears. He pulled you into his embrace, just like he did back then. When your cries died down, he pulled away then planted a kiss on your temple.

“We would never work out. You're happier with him.” Sherlock said.

“I realized that what he had, was all that it was. Nothing more, nothing less. We burned too fast until we became nothing, Y/N.” he continued.

“I loved you,” you whispered.

“And I did too. So much.” he said, his voice breaking.

————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ————— • ——

TAGLIST:

@migurin @damiensoda @inas-thing @peachywoong @ruevz @sammiisnthere @srapalestina @winchestersgirl222 @taramaria @alexag-barnes @sleutherclaw @will0wfairy @vexedvalerie @lovecleastrange @evelynrosestuff @azu21 @getlostsquidward @bubu890 @strangefilms @ice-ksk @my-beel @doctorswitch @tuitiononlivings @windchaser1990 @swds @andrewgarfieldsloml @spencerreidslittleslut @sherlockstrangewolf @littlebadariell @whosgwyneth @cumberbitch @lostfleurs @strangeobsessed @slvtforstr4nge @jyessaminereads @dancerpanda04 @stephenstrangeaddictions @starryeddie @cemak @valoa3s @paola-carter @runningnannie @siredlust @stupidthoughtsinwriting

#benedict cumberbatch #sherlock fanfiction #sherlockbbc #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock x fem!reader #sherlock fanfic #sherlock holmes angst #sherlock holmes jealousy #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock holmes fluff #sherlock fandom #fanfic writing #sherlock holmes fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch fanfiction #lovers rock #tv girl #sherlock song fics #sherlock x reader fanfic #Spotify

[jwirecs]

RECOMMENDED SEVENTEEN FICS OF MAY-JUNE 2023💖

hello, hello! here are my recs for seventeen for may-june! hopefully these beautiful stories get more recognition as well as the writers 💝 (i discovered that combining atz/svt/skz&txt into one post may be too much and too long + might take too much space in the tags for each respective groups so i’ve decided to make them all separate!) 

** anything in parentheses and bolded are my thoughts that can be disregarded if needed **

🔞smut || 💔angst || 💕fluff || ✅completed || 🔄ongoing || 💯favorite

[04:15AM] || @fairyhaos​💕✅💯💯

↳ Requested by one of their readers. (THE AMOUNT OF SOFTNESS AND FLUFF AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

Blood Moon || @smileysuh​🔞💕💔✅💯💯💯

↳ ".....let’s just say, you’re all that matters to me now. And I’m going to worship you as if you were the moon” (idk this author personally, but i just wanna say that i love your fics and everyone needs to give atleast their fic a read! you will be seeing their fics in my nct fic recs too just saying.)

Drunk Giant || @yikesmary​​​💕✅

↳ in which you have to figure out how to transfer your drunk boyfriend to the bedroom without causing major bodily harm. and he’s not making it easy for you.

The Athlete (Bonus) || @sun-kore​​ 🔞💕✅💯

↳ You are assigned to do an interview with Kwon Soonyoung, the trailblazing athlete everyone calls Hoshi. But as you spend more time with him, you start to see there are more layers to him than football. (i honestly had to re-read The Athlete because i forgot how the story went. + it was a given to read the first one before the second one. i suggest yall do the same.)

How To Unsubscribe To Dating || @dropsofletters​​​💕💔✅

↳ on april 18th, hansol likes his favorite youtuber’s instagram picture. not because of her content—though, he finds himself laughing at all of her weekly videos—but because he thinks she’s gorgeous. that is how it ends. just a like on a picture that no one will see.

This Is How We Fall || @bitterie-sweetie​💕💔✅💯

↳ You should know better than to make a deal with a stranger, but the need for a date to Minghao’s party has you desperate. It can’t be too bad though; all you have to do is show Mingyu what you saw in your reading, and he would be your date for one night. Simple enough, right?

A Sheep In Wolf’s Clothing || @rubyreduji​🔞✅

↳ kim mingyu is the biggest player on campus, so why is he coming to you for sex help

Doting On You || @lovelyhan​​​​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ a svt hhu x pets series!

Fallin’ Flowers || @leejungchans​​​💕💔🔄💯💯💯

↳ "while flowers bloom and falls, scars cure and buds shoot // we are living our first and last moments // so i won’t take you for granted // because you loved me as i am” - fallin’ flower by seventeen

I Found Love In Your Smile || @wonlouvre​​​🔞💕💔✅💯

↳ falling in love with wonwoo never felt so easy. however, when unforgivable truths test your relationship, you can’t help but think that maybe you were betrothed for all the wrong reasons.

Inflection Point || @lovelyhan​​​​🔞💕💔✅

↳ you love yoon jeonghan. no, scratch that. you fucking adore yoon jeonghan; so much that the moment he asks you to be in an exclusive set-up with his current partner, you accept the offer in a heartbeat. what you fail to consider, however, is who your boss’ boyfriend actually is.

Money Talks || @sunlightwoo​​​💕💔✅💯💯

↳ everybody needs to get by somehow, and what better way of it is through a ‘club’ full of men that are loaded with money to help pay for whatever you need help with? to put it shortly, thirteen sugar daddies are here to help you pay for what you need or give you money in exchange for something to make them feel better about life.

Puppy Parents || @yikesmary​💕✅

↳ where your golden retriever has the tendency to bring you things she has an interest in— sticks, frisbees that obviously don’t belong to you, and even the occasional bird. but this time, your dog brings… a man? and not just any man, only the most beautiful man you’ve ever met. maybe your dog is onto something…

Partner Privilege || @blue-jisungs​​​​💕💔✅

↳ (title says it all, i can honestly see this happening to their future s/o.)

Feverish Lips || @sunlightwoo​​​💔✅

↳ you’d think that because it’s the first semester of the year, it’d be like the beginning of a roller coaster when its slowly becoming climatic and stressful. however, once you’re at the top of the point you have two choices: scream your lungs or quickly hang onto your life support. sadly in your case, you can either suck it up and get through it, or get involved in its loops in tangles with trouble that is bound to be met within every corner that you turn to.

Introduce Me A Good Person || @taeyegu​​ 💕💔✅

↳ if there is a nice person, please introduce him to me. sometimes like water, sometimes like fire. someone who can love me sincerely. i hope he is someone who is mature and faithful…

What I Would Do || @sungbeam​​ 💕💔✅

↳ minghao is kinda sorta maybe in love with you, but he thinks you're so out of his league.

Meet Cute of The Century || @lovelyhan​ 🔞💕💔✅💯💯

↳ the last thing you expected when you volunteered at your city’s local animal shelter is to meet the hottest cat person in the world. now if only he’d just adopt one of them so you’d stop ogling him every time he drops by.

Do check out all of the other seventeen fics that i have reblogged as well!!

** if there is any fics that you guys would like to recommend, please do! i am slowly running out of fics to read **

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #seventeen social media au #seventeen reactions #seventeen established relationship au #seventeen fake dating au #seventeen fic recs #seventeen recs #seventeen strangers to lovers au

[obliqueblade]

End of Season 9 + health update (kinda)

So, I finally got a chance to watch most of the Hermits videos about the end of season nine, just finished with Grians, and I was not anticipating that I would cry.

I did. An embarrassing amount.

Something that I haven't talked about in a while, is the recent really bad health crisis I had a few months ago. For those unaware, or who don't remember, I was diagnosed with a form of Lung Cancer almost three years ago.

A few months ago, one of my roommates, allowed her partner into our apartment knowing that they had Covid and didn't tell me or our other roommates. I got sick. Really sick. I don't want to go into too much detail, because it is not pleasant, but since then my doctors and I had to change almost everything about my treatment plan, but the major thing we were unsure of was how would it affect one of my upcoming surgeries.

Originally, this was set for mid-January, but my doctors wanted to run some more tests and make sure that I would be strong enough to undergo it. At the time in late October, they told me they would know for sure by December. And, a few days ago I got the call to go and meet with them.

I'm not strong enough.

Which, essentially means that without this surgery, all they are really going to be able to do is keep me comfortable until I pass.

Obviously, this sucks, and not at all how I had intended things to go. I've not told any of my family, mainly because I don't really know how to at this time. Tomorrow being Christmas it feels wrong to do it now, so I'll probably wait till after the holidays.

Do not worry, I am still making progress on the fic, as it isn't strenuous to do.

Anyway, I felt that I needed to write this with the end of the Hermitcraft season. I had only started watching Hermitcraft during season 8, not long after I had gotten my diagnosis. So season 9 was my first time watching a full season- start to end.

I think that might be one of the reasons I got so emotional towards the end. Realistically, depending on when they start season 10, I won't be alive to see it, let alone the end of it.

Obviously, I'm not saying "they need to start the new season now because I'm dying, and screw how burnt out you guys might feel". That would be ridiculous, and not the point I'm trying to make.

The Hermits introduced me to so much joy, such much creativity, and so much strength. The days I felt like were the end, were made so much brighter, because of the Hermits.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I probably wouldn't have made it through the past two years without them.

So, in the only way that I hopefully can with the time I have left, I want to complete this fic. I want to attribute something back to this amazing community, and the people that got me through so much.

Thank you, Hermitcraft, for making the last few years of my life feel like they were worth living.

#hermitblr #hermitcraft #grian #ao3 writer #desert duo #desert duo vigilante au #superhero au #ao3 fanfic #cute guy grian #archive of our own #hermitcraft 9 #hermitcraft season 9 #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #ethoslab #bdoubleo100 #renthedog #pearlescentmoon #geminitay #falsesymmetry #zedaph #xisuma #tangotek #impulsesv #docm77 #keralis #joe hills #vintage beefcake #health #zombie cleo

[cha-melodius]

Firstprince, and look don’t ask me why this is what my brain came up with but: meetcute at the STI clinic

(OMG, I love your brain so much. This made me cackle and immediately start writing it. Thanks so much, hope you enjoy!)

chamel's fandom fest info | read all the fics

Getting Clinical

(firstprince, 2k, T; read it below or on AO3)

Alex has to admit that the very last thing that he expected to get upon coming out to his mother was an appointment made in his name at an LGBTQ+ focused sexual health clinic near his apartment. Really, he should have known better, given the PowerPoints that resulted from said coming out, but still. He’s a grown-ass man with a career. He lives on his own in a city in which she does not live. He can take care of himself.

He still goes to the appointment when he gets back to New York. It’s already made, after all, and it’s been a while since he was tested. Since he’s had any sexual partners, in point of fact; he’s been more or less a hermit for the past couple of years, throwing himself into his work and only letting Nora and June drag him out on rare occasion. The whole bisexual revelation had been a slow thing, born of the unexpected feelings evoked in him when one of the senior partners at his law firm came out as gay, in combination with finding himself staring a little too long at the shirtless male leads when he’d put on The Mummy or Indiana Jones on in the background while working late nights at home. He hasn’t actually acted on any of this newfound knowledge save for flirting a bit with the barista at the coffee shop in his building.

He’s gonna, though. He’s determined to get out there and meet someone. A number of someones, maybe—why not have some fun while he’s discovering a bit more about himself? Explore what’s out there. So it makes sense to just go when he gets the email from his mom with a screenshot of the appointment confirmation.

“I wonder if anyone’s done a comparative study of these lubes,” Nora says, too loudly, from where she sits beside him inspecting a selection of samples that she’s collected from a display in the waiting room. More than one person waiting nearby looks over at them, and Alex sinks a little deeper into his chair.

“Ugh, why are you here again?”

“For the moral support,” she chirps with too much glee. “Not like I have any need to be tested right now. Although, June and I did meet this very intriguing guy—”

“All right, enough of that,” he interrupts sharply before she can say any more about her and his sister’s sex life. He already knows far too much about it as it is. “No one asked you to come.”

Nora tips her head at him. “Not in so many words, no. But if I had to listen to one more minute of you hemming and hawing about whether you could make the appointment or whether this was the ‘right place for you’”—she adds the air quotes, annoyingly—“I was gonna start breaking things.” Something softens in her expression, then. “You do belong in these spaces, you know.”

“I know,” he mutters, staring down into his lap. He’s even getting better at believing it.

At that, Nora returns to her lube investigation, and Alex rage-reads some twitter threads until someone steps up to the empty chair next to him and says in a mellifluous British accent, “Pardon me, is this seat taken?”

The waiting room is not that crowded, so Alex doesn’t know why this guy needs to sit directly next to him. He’s in the middle of trying to figure out a polite way to convey this when he finally looks up and right into what he’s pretty sure are the bluest pair of eyes on the planet. Jesus fuck, this man might be the most attractive person he’s ever laid eyes on in person. He doesn’t actually seem like he could be real, but he’s here, looking hopefully at Alex like he wants to be next to him, which is, let’s just say, intriguing—

“It’s only— there’s an outlet on the wall here, and my phone is dying,” Blue Eyes says with an apologetic smile.

Right. So, not particularly interested in sitting next to Alex, then. And that’s definitely not a hollow feeling of disappointment settling into his stomach.

“Yeah, no problem, man,” Alex says, trying to school his expression into something appropriate for conversing with strangers. “It’s all yours.”

Blue Eyes thanks him and takes the seat as he reaches into his bag to pull out a phone cord. The thing is, the outlet is kind of under the chairs and between the two of them, which necessitates some twisting and bending as he tries to blindly reach for it. That definitely doesn’t seem to be working, though, so Alex ends up twisting in his chair too to try to see if he can help.

“A little lower, I think—”

“Oh, thank you, I just can’t quite feel—”

“Fuck, you’re too far now— look, you need to shift to the right, yeah, there—”

“Ah, there it goes,” Blue Eyes murmurs with a pleased hum that brings to mind a very different setting than the one they’re currently in.

This seems to occur to Blue Eyes at the same time as it does Alex, which is approximately when they both look up and realize that their faces have ended up quite close together. Blue Eyes’ cheeks are rapidly turning a lurid pink; Alex quickly replays their previous exchange in his head and yeah, fuck. Suggestive doesn’t seem to begin to cover it. Slowly, Blue Eyes straightens, his posture stiff and eyes fixed on the floor in front of him.

“Er, thank you,” he coughs.

“Don’t mention it,” Alex mumbles in response.

A strained silence settles over them that’s somehow heavier than your usual odd-encounter-with-a-stranger awkwardness. At some point during this encounter, Nora had disappeared to god knows where, so Alex doesn’t even have her company to fall back on. He scrolls on his phone without actually reading anything on it, half hoping one of them will be called into the doctor and half dreading it. Next to him, Blue Eyes is typing furiously with his thumbs.

Alex shouldn’t interrupt him. Just… mind his own business. That would be the reasonable thing to do.

Oh well.

“So, come here often?” he tries to joke, only to realize too late the implications behind asking such a question in a sexual health clinic. He grimaces, hard. “Fuck, I didn’t mean— you don’t have to answer that. I was just— trying to make it not awkward.”

To his relief, Blue Eyes just looks amused. “And made it exceedingly awkward instead?” he replies with a tiny smirk tilting his perfect mouth. There’s a mole right next to the corner of it that Alex would very much like to bite. “I do visit regularly, in fact,” he continues after a moment. “I consider my and my partners’ sexual health to be very important.”

Fuck, that just makes him hotter, which shouldn’t be physically possible. “Lucky person,” Alex hears himself say. “Your partner.”

“Oh, I, uh,” Blue Eyes stammers slightly. “I’m not dating anyone. Currently, that is. I’m just getting out of a relationship, actually.”

“Sorry,” Alex winces.

“Don’t be,” he replies lightly, a flickering smile on his lips. “I’m well shot of him. Anyway, it’s been long enough. Thought I should get back out there.”

“Oh,” Alex says. That’s a good sign, right? Alex could just ask him out. They could have fun if nothing else. That’s all he’s looking for right now. And he’s good at picking people—women, anyway—up. Or was, historically. He just needs to… say something charming. “Well, good luck, then.”

Not that.

He’s really, really hoping he’s not misreading the look of resignation that flickers across Blue Eyes’ face. Before Alex can figure out how to make his big mouth say something useful, though, Blue Eyes’ gaze flickers up behind him. “Ah, your partner’s returned.”

Alex glances back long enough to see Nora flopping down into the chair next to him with more lube samples. “Oh, she’s not my—”

“Alex?” a nurse calls from the other side of the waiting room, leaving him little other choice but to get up and follow her. Blue Eyes shoots him a tight smile and a tiny nod of acknowledgement that they’re probably never going to see each other again before Alex turns and starts walking away.

He’s halfway through the door to the exam rooms when he glances back to see Blue Eyes still watching him, which is frankly more than he can take.

“Sorry, just— forgot something,” he says to the nurse before all but sprinting back to his chair. He plucks Blue Eyes’ phone right out of his slack grip, opens a new contact page, and types in his number. Then, as if he’s in some kind of fever dream, he actually says, “Let me know when you get your results,” and winks.

Alex hurries off again before the nurse can call after him, leaving one extremely stunned Brit in his wake.

~~~~

A week later, Alex’s test results from the clinic show up in his inbox. He’s clean, of course, no surprises there, but the visit itself had been worthwhile—he’d found himself talking to the doctor about aspects related to his health and wellness that went beyond what he might encounter now that he’d be branching out, so to speak—so all in all, not a waste of time.

His phone stays silent, though.

Of course it was always a long shot. That doesn’t change the bitter taste of disappointment on his tongue that not even his endless cups of coffee can cover up. He gets the results on a Friday and lets himself be dragged out to a club on Saturday night to ‘celebrate’, though he ends up politely rebuffing the advances of everyone who hits on him. Nora gives him a look after the third one—a tall, gorgeous brunet with a jaw chiseled out of marble and blue eyes that do give him a half a second of pause—but he shrugs her off.

On Monday morning, he’s in the middle of a conference with a partner and a client when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He assumes it’s Nora or June, so he nearly drops the damned thing on the floor when he finally gets out and swipes open to see a screenshot of an email that looks suspiciously familiar. There’s one key difference, though: under ‘name’ at the top, the text says Henry Fox-Mountchristen.

The screenshot has been sent without comment or followup, just a dry, clinical report, and somehow it’s still one of the sexiest texts he’s ever gotten. Fuck, he’s at work.

Which is exactly what he sends back to Henry. (Henry, he thinks, mulling over the name. It suits him. Alex would very much like to taste it, pressed into his skin.)

Apologies, but you did ask to be informed.

Am I to assume this was an academic interest, or…?

nothing academic about what i want to do to you, sweetheart

Right, then. Jolly good. Are you free this weekend?

Alex wants to say he’s free tonight, actually, so they can put those results to good use, but halfway through writing his reply, he stops. Yes, he wants Henry in his bed, but he also doesn’t want Henry to think he’s only interested in sex. Which is exactly the opposite of what he told himself he was going to do when he started exploring his bisexuality. He shouldn’t be looking for a relationship, and there’s no guarantee Henry is interested in one either. Maybe he’s just busy until then.

Alex thinks another moment, then sends back: what did you have in mind?

~~~~~

(Henry takes him on a date date, all romantic candlelit dinner with a single red rose and a walk in Central Park afterward with their fingers tangled together. And when he finally leans in to kiss Alex, it’s soft and sweet and Alex feels it down to his fucking toes. So, like. That’s a whole thing.

Turns out that they do make good use of their test results that night, thoroughly. And again, the next morning in the shower. And again and again, until they each get a reminder email from the clinic that it’s time for a regular screening.

Which they each promptly delete.)

#firstprince #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #chamel's fandom fest #my fic

[elysianeclipxe]

the cookie incident | txt beomgyu

warnings: judgement towards baking skills, cursing, talking about death in a light manner, and chaos

genre/au: fluff, boyfriend!beomgyu au

word count: 1.3k

summary: cookies are a new staple of movie nights, but beomgyu doesn't exactly think they look as appetizing as they taste

sidenote: just a little fic on my cookie thoughts. welcome the first of many txt fics, also the pure chaos in this seemed to fit beomgyu the best so yay for him. hopefully he doesn't seem super ooc, apologies if he does, trial and error y'all

Friday nights are movie nights. That has been established between everyone in the friend group. This time, you and Beomgyu were the hosts, so that meant everything had to be prepared by the two of you. Snacks, drinks, blankets, pillows. Literally anything that was essential for a movie night is on both of your hands.

This time you were in charge of the food and drinks while your boyfriend took care of the comfort and everything else. Trust me, this is the best option you had. The last time you both hosted movie night Beomgyu confidently said that he'd take care of the food… yeah, Yeonjun ended up in the hospital for 3 days after eating what he made. To avoid another.. incident, you took it upon yourself to handle the food this time.

Now it was just time to decide what to cook and bake for everyone. Popcorn was definitely needed or else you'd hear it from the boys. Now for the rest, you should probably list it down. So that you did. Listing stuff from pizza to kimbap and cola to ice cream. You just had to make everything now, oh dear. Well good thing movie night starts late as it seems the next couple hours will keep you busy.

"Gyu, I swear to all the deities above that if you touch another kimbap roll, I will personally shove that roll down your throat till you choke. Do Not Test Me!" You threaten the boy. It was like a sixth sense, knowing when your boyfriend is about to do some shit that he isn't supposed to do. And right as you turn around to glare at him, you catch him right in the act. Hand stretched out right about to grab another kimbap roll, eyes wide as he stares at you in horror. Busted.

"But babe! It's a compliment to eat a lot, it just goes to show how good your food is. Best chef and significant other in my heart." He grins and makes a heart with his hand. To add onto the lovey dovey effect he decides to blow kisses to you and slyly wink at you. Smooth, but mostly ineffective since you know him well. The blush on your cheeks beg to differ though.

You chuckle at his words and immediately give him an unimpressed look. "Nice try, but we have one hour left till everyone comes and you know I don't have enough time to make more. So step back and leave the kimbap alone."

He pouts and steps back from the kimbap you made, mumbling under his breath how he was just hungry. Hahhh, sometimes it's so hard to handle him. But despite that, it is nice to know that he likes your food so much to the point he'll eat so much of it… Most of the time anyway.

"AHHHHHH!! WHAT IS THIS?!" He screams, causing you to rush over to him in complete stress. If you were lucky then whatever he's screaming about wouldn't be anything majorly bad.

And you were right. Because when you went into the living room the only sight you could see was the look of fear on his face and his hand holding a plate of cookies away from him. "What are you doing with the cookies?" You ask him, staring at him weirdly.

"THESE ARE COOKIES?? ARE YOU SURE?" That hurts. Now that you look at it, the cookies didn’t look all that amazing but was it enough for him to not recognize the dessert? It was gonna be your first time serving the cookies to everyone and now it has you feeling scared that they won’t like it.

Do they really look that bad? I thought I did pretty well this time, this is like the third batch that I tried to perfect.. I guess they do kind of look deformed

You huff out in annoyance and snatch the plate of cookies from his hand. You frown and put it back on the table, “if it looks so bad then don’t eat it! I’ll just give it to Yeonjun, he knows how to appreciate my food even if it looks weird. Whatever. I’m gonna get ready so just double check everything while they’re still not here.”

Beomgyu feels bad as he watches you walk into your bedroom and close the door with a slam. Maybe he judged your cookies too quickly. I mean, yeah, it REALLY didn’t look the best but a cookie was still a cookie. And if your baking skills were as good as your cooking skills then it would probably taste great. Even if it didn’t, he would likely just suck it up and smile, since that’s what a supportive partner does.. Before gently saying that they need to practise more, with love.

So like the loving boyfriend he is, he picks up a chocolate chip cookie and examines it before taking a bite. He lets the flavour linger and- “YAH THIS TASTE FUCKING DELICIOUS!” Definitely wrong to assume that it tasted bad. Never again will he say bad things about your baking skills. Clearly you knew what you were doing.

"I should say sorry to y/n later about this. It tastes really good. But do I need her ego getting bigger? She's your girlfriend, idiot! Ughh whatever. Anyway, should I be sharing these cookies with everyone? What if they eat all of it and then y/n starts making it for them specifically? I can't have that, I'm the boyfriend! They should be for me only!!" As he kept talking to himself, Beomgyu unconsciously kept taking cookie after cookie, slowly stuffing his mouth until he could no longer feel any more cookies on the plate. 'Oh fuck, y/n's gonna kill me' he thought as the door to the bedroom creaked open right on time.

"Okay! I'm pretty sure this is the best I can dress up for movie night, both comfort and style. Everything looks right about ready so now we just have to- WHAT HAPPENED TO THE COOKIES?!" You look over and see your boyfriend's back turned to you, not a word slipping from his lips. There is only one suspect, the one you left alone with the cookies. "Yah, Choi Beomgyu! Turn around."

This was it. This was the moment that Beomgyu would be choked to death. At least he got to taste your delicious chocolate chip cookies. That's all that matters as he slowly turns around to face you, and the sight of him is to behold. Your boyfriend, who previously said how diabolical your cookies looked, now had several of them shoved in his mouth by choice. Cookie crumbs and everything by his mouth, eyes filled with embarrassment.

OXNWGDUKFBTOAOBD WHY IS HE SO CUTE?!? DAMN IT BEOMGYU NOT FAIR! How am I supposed to stay mad at you? No, stay strong y/n

You approach the male and lean down, a smirk framing your face. "Care to explain or should I just assume that you're sorry for being judgemental about my baking skills?" He chews the last bits of the cookie and swallows it before nodding his head, a soft "sorry" being said after. "You are too cute, Gyu. Come on, get ready."

Before you could walk any further he grabs your wrist and tightens his grip on it. "Haha, so since there are no more, could you.. make some more cookies? For me?" He bites his lip and awkwardly smiles at you.

Oh send help he is so cute! How are you expected to say no to that? "Awwww Gyu… No." Like that apparently.

"BUT WHY?" He follows you and keeps on tugging at your arm trying to convince you to make more.

How do you expect him to have movie night without your cookies now? Sighhh. First he hates it, then he loves it. A little too much. He is driving you all over the place. Beomgyu's a little a lot annoying, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"BABE PLEASE! JUST ONE MORE BATCH OF THOSE COOKIES!" Ah jeez, this is gonna be a long night.

Kinda loved this one a lot, not sure why tho. Anyways, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated <33

© elysianeclipxe. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my content onto other platforms.

#astrid writes🌸 #txt #txt x reader #tomorrow x together #txt imagines #txt drabbles #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #txt beomgyu #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #txt fluff #txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt choi beomgyu