#i am just filled with love and feelings right now ive missed this. ive missed him

[the-kipsabian]

always enjoy nights/mornings like this when after a show that ends around 5 or 6am im just sitting here, preparing my shit for making gifs while everyone else is packing it up and going to bed lmao

[ghostarii]

SILK STRINGS & PEARL RINGS, SCARAMOUCHE

ʚɞ kisses with the weight of pain and bruises colored like love — his heart hits like a punch and you’re the sucker to catch it.

WARNINGS ݈݇- fem!reader, referred to as kuni, impact play, asphyxiation, biting / marking, hair pulling, degradation, name calling, praise, creampie, overstimulation, more scaramouche than wanderer, minors & dc antis do not interact!

NOTE ݈݇- hey . . hey . . how y’all doin ^w^ ive been gone a while becuz tumblr wasnt it anymore nd life was lifeing ! am back now bc i missed u guys nd missed being a freak :c theres sm of u now — thank u sm for 900+! ! i loveee youu loads xoxoxooo Anywayyy i hope u enjoy this quick littl drabble to flex my muscles :3

WORD COUNT ݈݇- 1.1k

LIMBS LIKE STRINGS OF silk: soft, pliable, and delicate, all in the hands of an unworthy sinner. His rough callouses rub burning patches on your skin as he runs his hands across your supple skin. Even the finest silks blemish under unclean hands and you are no exception — you're the example.

The name he bears stumbles out of your mouth in broken gasps and he only wishes you would shut up; he tells you again and again in hopes of your compliance, to no avail. Your voice is a constant reminder of who he is to you and, otherwise, who he’s destroying for superficial, fleeting pleasure. He’s far too deep to pull away now and scurry away—he has no choice but to double down and bump the sense out of your brain in hopes of fogging your memory. It works in a skewed way: condensing your mind to the two syllables of his name. “Kuni! Kun—i!! God, Kuni—!!!” Your pitiful screeches play on broken recurrences.

And as the master weaver he is, your pleasure is sewn up to its peak for what feels like the millionth time. Your body quakes and trembles, quivering under his weight and attempting an escape jaggedly. A hearty, choked-up whine jumps out of your chest, “Sto—I can’t! K-Kuni, please—!”

Deaf ears ignore your cries and pound deeper, harder—slamming his pelvic bone against your twitching clit. His hands move from the expanse of the mattress to your neck: pressing you into the mattress with pressure on the sides of your neck just right. “Shut the fuck up,” he grits, rolling his hips into you. “Just shut up and take it.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, lashes fluttering rapidly as, quickly, your brain computes nothing but pleasure.

His hips snap against you with such intensity, that it makes you feel like he hates you. It borders on painful, eliciting sharp lightning rods to pierce and prod around your body. The sheer weight of this impassioned thrusting has you jolting up the bed and thrashing around under him, looking to escape the white-hot harvest of pleasure pulsing in your pussy.

On top of you, he burns a pretty rose that can only be described as fire. The tight grip around his cock fills his head with foggy air—but it's the wetness that spools around his length: splat, splat, splat, that sings out the lost orgasms from rounds previous and ample arousal. It’s that that has him grumbling out blurbs of pleasure, chasing his orgasm that rests in your depths.

Every sensation is heightened tenfold with the ever-demanding charge that is being fed in your tummies. Every pulse, squeeze, leak, prod—all of it is akin to plugging you up to an orgasm charge-port and capping off the battery.

It’s too much; you scream that out enough until you can't gather enough air to breathe, let alone speak. Kuni agrees with you but he really, really, wishes you would shut up. He can't think and with every sound you make, he’s urged on in this unshakeable, carnivorous desperation to fuck harder. He's not immune to pleasure; he may be more susceptible to its threats, in fact. Knitted brows and screwed eyes blind him to the overstimulated writhing you enact, wriggling under his touch in vain hopes of reprieve.

Tears stream down your cheeks to mix with a layer of slobber splayed on your skin—a pitifully nasty mess, born out of the relentless palms of your man. He has the liberty to see you at your most vulnerable: degeneracy painting itself all over your body. A beautifully disgusting mess, you are, and he only makes it worse.

Stirring around your guts is his angry hard-on, circling your walls in shaky rolling manners, letting you both rest against the other and heave out deep breaths. The tip grinds against your g-spot and has you whimpering weakly, slapping his forearms and rolling your stomach. “I’m gonna—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He grits, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging your head to the left. The stinging burn that dances at your roots has you wincing and whining, scrunching your face up. “Hold it.”

“I c-can’t, Kuni!” Just as the words leave your mouth, his hips are re-angled to push up into your pussy, the right-bound hook he sports curving right up to a gummy cushion in your walls. They contract around him and he groans, tightening his grip on your hair.

He dives into you, letting his hands grip your waist as his head wedges itself between your chin and shoulder. “Get it through your thick fucking skull,” he berates, nipping your collarbone. “You can't cum until I say so,”

His hips grind upward, drilling his dick deep into your depths that the hoarseness in your voice is shaken off for a shrill yelp to be squeezed out. He laughs at you menacingly, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to then circle the mark with his tongue. “Take it like a good bitch and I may be nice to you.”

Not a word he said will be upheld. You're so good—the best girl for him and he still dangles your release in front of you. Like a dog to a thick bone, you pant and whine in anticipation of being thrown your Achilles heel.

Exhaustion catches up to him and he can only lazily rock into you. His left hand presses on your stomach as he does so, trapping pressure in your tummy and mixing deliciously with your pleasure.

Heat swims beneath your skin and spills out beads of perspiration, gluing your bodies together.

Proximity; your bodies are so close and burning up fervent flames that swallow you down. Like the pliable silk you are, you slip around under his hold and that knot your stomach is tied up in easily unwinds.

“You’re coming, aren't you?” He shakily asks, exhaling deeply. If you aren't, he is.

Your non-answer is answer enough—he moans pathetically in your ear, falling apart as he ruts into you.

Holding on is a thing of the past as he slams against your sweet spot, unfurling his orgasm into you in milky ropes. Simultaneously, you release your biggest orgasm yet, splashing against his stomach and streaming down your legs. The pressure pushes him out with a grunt, a sadistic laugh of his echoing in your head.

Your swollen pussy is shining in pearlescent, bubbled strings, rolling out of you in a gushing mix. Oh, it's nasty; and you're utterly destroyed—flushed and blemished and patterned in bites, bruises, and prints. Your lips are swollen and bitten; your eyes are low-lidded and teary; your face is sweaty and tear-stained; your body quivers and spasms and Kuni thinks that you've never looked better.

Reprieve only lasts a mere moment before your legs are pushed up to your shoulders, spreading and stretching your limbs to their limits. Drawing out a whine, you speak hoarsely, “What’re you doing? No more..”

“I never told you to cum, did I?”

A break quickly becomes a distant memory.

[moonstruckme]

happy new year lovie!!!! i feel bad for requesting this bc just thinking ab the volume of ur inbox is a little overwhelming and ive gone a bit overboard 😭

but..... bodyguard!james finds out his mum is quite sick right before his shift one day and leaves to take care of her after letting reader know. he has to take the week off and reader is visiting and bringing them their favorite homecooked meals everyday (which she has memorised bc, bless him, james loves to talk abt his mum) and james is LOVEEESTRUCK. she's there, bright and early every morning (with a different bodyguard bc god forbid she leaves the house with no protection right in front of james' own two eyes!!!) with muffins and flowers and bags of food in hand :( james is enamored and so sweet on her!!!!! and reader is obsessing over how vulnerable and emotionally in tune james is at a time like this!!!!! i'm thinking maybe confessions are getting pretty hard to hold back by the end of the week ☹️🩷

thank you! (if you do decide to write this or if you dont for letting me ramble on in your asks x)

Don't feel bad my love! Thank you for requesting :)

cw: sick family member

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

No matter how many times James has visited home throughout his adult life, he always manages to discover something he’s forgotten about living there. Like how particular his mum is about the way the dish towel is folded, or which drawer the scissors are kept in, or the ungodly amount of door-to-door salesmen that come by on a daily basis. 

Lately, he’s being plagued by the last. He recalls them being vaguely annoying when he was younger, but James’ family is currently going through a difficult time that leaves one with somewhat frayed nerves. He very nearly snapped at a particularly tenacious primary school student selling chocolate yesterday. Not one of his finer moments. 

So when the doorbell rings while his mum is trying to sleep down the hall, James has to make an effort to reel his wrath back in before he’s even answered it. 

Funnily enough, any negative emotion completely evaporates when he sees you on the front steps. 

“Hi,” you say, looking apprehensive. 

“Hi,” James echoes. He opens the door the rest of the way, nodding to the fill-in guard you’ve brought with you. “Hey, Singh.”

Singh nods in return. 

“I hope it’s alright that I just came by.” You give him a sheepish sort of smile. “I didn’t even realize I don’t have your phone number until now. You’re always just…there.” 

James laughs, the mood that’s descended over him since getting the call about his mum lifting slightly. “Yeah, I suppose I am. What brings you out, sweetheart?” 

You hoist the bags you’re carrying a bit higher in your arms. “I brought some stuff for you and your mom, if that’s okay.” 

A tiny hand fists around his heart, squeezing pleasantly. “Course it is,” he all but coos. “Come on in. Singh, you alright to stay here and keep watch?” 

Luckily, the other man doesn’t think to remember that James is currently on leave, and so defers to him with a curt nod. James shoots him a smile as you come inside, closing the door behind you. 

“They put Singh on day shift?” he asks, taking one of the bags from you and leading you into the kitchen. “He’s barely finished training.” 

“He seems fine,” you say in your good-natured way. 

“He took you to a location that’s never been reconned without even bringing another guard to post outside.” 

“It’s your mom’s house, Jamie.” The smile is evident in your voice, sweeter even than the smell wafting out of these bags. God, he’s missed you. “I doubt he suspects either of you are going to try and hurt me.” 

“He should be prepared for the possibility,” James says, but he can’t manage to work any menace into his tone even to tease you. You tilt your head at him, mouth curving up to one side like you’re well acquainted with his particular brand of silliness, and he lets his grievances go instantly. “You didn’t have to bring us anything, angel face.” 

You flush a bit at the endearment, directing a soft smile down at his family’s old wooden table (which is great, because now James is in the position of being jealous of a table). “I wanted to do something,” you reply simply. “How’s your mom?” 

“She’s alright.” Not great. Not worse, which is always good. If the only thing he accomplishes in a day is that she doesn’t get worse, James can feel good about that. “She’s sleeping in this morning.” 

“Oh, shit.” Your voice drops to a hush like the breeze blowing through leaves. “I haven’t woken her, have I?” 

James grins. “No, you’re good. She can sleep through anything.” 

You lose a breath. “Right, well I brought some meals to last you a few days,” you say, digging some containers out of the bag. “It can all be heated up whenever you’re ready to eat, and—oh, also some flowers. I know it’s stupid, but I thought they might brighten things up for you two.” James doesn’t think it’s stupid at all, but you go on before he can tell you so. “Can I put these in your freezer? I brought some muffins for this morning too, if you want them.” 

“Yeah,” James says, the word leaving him on a breath. “I mean, yeah to both. Thank you.” He grabs several of the containers as well, showing you to the freezer. You both start cramming them in between things, wherever they’ll fit. He takes note of the food as it goes in, a heady warmth growing in his chest. “Did you make all of this?” 

You hum in brisk affirmation. “I had plenty of time on my hands yesterday. Turns out things are pretty boring without you around.” 

“How’d you know what to make? This is all—these are our favorites.” 

You turn to him, a tenderhearted sort of smile curving your lips. “You talk about your mom a lot, Jamie,” you say. “I know all her favorites by now. And the things she’d make that were your favorites, too.” 

James hadn’t realized he’d spent so much time rambling about his mum. It hurts his chest a bit to think of it now, worse to think that you’d been listening so intently. 

“This is only really enough to get you through a few days,” you go on, oblivious to his yearning, “but I figured I’d come back with more if you’re both alright with it.” You look at him as you pack the last of the food away, your gaze careful. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.” 

“You could never intrude.” James isn’t sure how he gets the words out, his heart ballooning until it’s nearly cutting off his airflow. The cool air breezing onto one side of his face stops, and he realizes you’ve shut the freezer. “This is just…so, so kind of you. I don’t know what to say.” 

“James.” Your voice is soft. Your smile has faded, and now you look at him with an unabashed, steady kindness. “You don’t have to say anything. I can’t stand the thought of you and your mom going through this. I wanted to help, somehow.” One of your shoulders comes up in a sheepish half-shrug. “Even if it’s really small.” 

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you hesitate only a second before bringing your arms around him too. You squeeze him tight. James lets himself relish the feel of it, lovelorn. “It’s not small,” he says fervently. “It really…it means a lot, sweetheart.” 

You only squeeze tighter in response. When he lets you go, your gaze is sad. Worried. You ask without prelude, “Are you doing okay?” 

James gives you a half-smile. The truth of it. “Yeah, we’re alright over here. It’s hard to see her like this, but I think everything’s going to be okay.” You nod, solemn in your understanding. “Sounds like I might be doing better than you, actually, if your company’s bad enough that you’re entertaining yourself in the kitchen all day.” 

You crack a smile at that, and James’ heart lightens. “Yeah, Singh’s no you. He doesn’t seem to like to chat.” 

“Ahh, so that’s why you’ve really come out here, yeah? You just missed me.” 

“You’ve caught me.” 

It’s said like a joke, but James’ pride inflates foolishly nonetheless. “I hate that I can’t be there,” he says. “Especially now that I know they’ve put Singh on my shift.” 

“He’s not so bad,” you laugh, heading towards the table. You fold up the bags. “Anyway, it’s more important that you’re here. And I’ll be back in a couple days to restock you.” 

James fixes you with a look as you start for the door. “You really don’t have to.” 

“I’m going to,” you say breezily. “Don’t forget to put the flowers in water, and the muffins are strawberry chocolate chip.” He grins. His mum’s favorite. “I’ll tell Singh you were raving about him.” 

“Oh, please do.” He rolls his eyes, feeling lighter than he has in days. “Thanks, angel.” 

You shoot him a smile worthy of the moniker as you go out the door. “See you in a couple days, Jamie.”

[httpiastri]

sweet 20 – pa17

genre: hmmm kinda fluffy a lil suggestive, idk

pairing: reader x paul aron

warnings: mentions of alcohol.... idk anything else

word count: 1.3k

author's note: hmmmm idk about this one 😭 writer's block has been so bad recently and when i pressure myself to write, it all just gets so bad. idk. also ive had such a long day and i just wanna get this out before the day is over..... and it's only been proofread once 😕 anyway, hbd again paul <3

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎

"where did the birthday boy go?" dino's loud voice meets your ears over the blasting music and you turn to the side, seeing the swede making his way to you. "i almost mistook the two of you for siamese twins, seeing how close you've been all night."

he is right – paul has been pretty much attached to your hip for most of the evening. his hands have been on you at all times, fingers constantly dancing across your skin or along the fabric of your dress. even in a club filled with his friends, with people who would love to spend some time with the birthday boy, he still wouldn't let go of you.

"he needed to use the bathroom," you tell him with a chuckle. "i just barely managed to pry his fingers off me so he could leave me here, i didn't really feel like being pulled along."

dino laughs. "good call. the bathrooms here are pretty nasty..."

"yeah, i've seen the women's bathrooms, so i can imagine what the men's is like." he gives you an acknowledging nod. silence falls over the two of you for a moment as he just sips his drink, but then you speak up. "hey, good job at planning this all. paul was really surprised-"

"what was i surprised about?" paul's voice echoes from behind you, and just as you're about to turn to look at him, you feel two strong arms wrap around you, keeping you in place. "hm?"

"this surprise party," you tell him. "you really had no idea, did you?"

"no idea." he rests his chin on top of your shoulder, leaning his head on yours slightly. his voice grows quieter. "i missed you, you know."

"you missed me? when, now?" paul nods against your shoulder, and you look to dino with a grimace. he answers with a shake of his head, rolling his eyes at his best friend. "you left to go to the bathroom about two minutes ago."

paul hums. "but i still missed you."

you've almost never seen him this clingy. it's only when he gets a couple of drinks down that he's like this – and tonight, he's definitely had more than his share of the open bar. the strong smell oozing from him signals that the hangover will be bad. hopefully, it's worth it.

"i'm going to go find gabriele," dino says to excuse himself, disappearing in just a second.

you turn around in paul's arms, a smile creeping onto your lips when you see the very hazy expression on his face. "hi there," you say, pressing a quick kiss to his nose.

"hi there."

you pause for a second, but then you get an idea. you move your hands to wrap around his forearms. "i want to dance."

he shakes his head instantly. "you've seen me dance before, no way am i embarrassing myself in front of all these people."

"come on," you groan, pulling yourself out of his embrace to take his hands in yours. "it's your birthday, so you have to dance." he's about to interject, so you cut him off, beginning to back towards the dance floor. "i'm not taking no for an answer."

his mouth opens as if he has something to say back, but then he closes it, thinking better of it. he allows you to pull you with him, and the music envelops you the moment you step onto the dance floor. you can feel the bass inside your bones, and the lights overhead flash in an array of colors, casting a vibrant glow over the crowd. paul follows you reluctantly, his expression a mix of hesitance and amusement. after all, a gorgeous woman is dragging him with her to dance with him. how can he not be at least a little intrigued?

the atmosphere out there is contagious, and you can't help but caught up in the energy. moving with the flow of the crowd underneath the lights feels so natural to you – but paul isn't the same. he loves partying, sure, but the dancing itself...

he doesn't even notice his own lack of energy before you reach up to give his face a playful slap. "hey, ease up."

his eyebrows rise. "lead me, then..."

you can't help but let out a giggle at the request; underneath this tough, firm exterior hides a soft, sweet guy who's so insecure about his dancing that he freezes like this. of course, you help him out – it's your duty as his girlfriend, you think – and you place your hands on his shoulders. "grab my hips," you tell him. "and relax a little. this can't be any worse than driving your racing cars."

"it sure feels like it."

you shake your head. "now, just... move."

and that's what he does. you're not sure if it's because of the alcohol, or because his favorite the weeknd song is blasting from the speakers, but he's moving much more smoothly than he usually is.

or maybe it's your sweet smile that's encouraging him to keep on going.

as the song progresses, and then melts into another, paul seems to let go more and more. he actually dances surprisingly well – at one point, he even spins you, and you can't help but laugh at the unexpected skill.

the way that his hands move up and down your sides, sometimes slipping behind you to give your butt a quick squeeze, combined with the intoxicating scent of his cologne, makes your heart flutter even further. it seems to have an effect on paul too, because he pulls you closer to him. your eyes meet his, and for a moment, it feels like the world slows down. the desire in his gaze is unmistakable, and the intensity of the connection between the two of you is easily noticeable to anyone within a mile's radius.

he leans forward, lips grazing your ear as he whispers to you. "let's get out of here."

you lean back with a frown on your face, looking at him like he's crazy. "this is your party. all of your friends are here-"

"fuck my friends, i don't care about them." you slap his shoulder playfully, a gasp passing through your lips. "all i want is you."

"you're insatiable, you know that?"

he shrugs. "what can i say? you're irresistible."

you shake your head. now it's your turn to lean forward and whisper into his ear. "later," you start, giving his cheek a little kiss. "patience, my dear."

he groans. "i can't be patient. i think you know that by now."

"too bad. you haven't even had any cake yet." you grin. "or opened your presents."

"i only know of one gift that i want to unwrap..." he says, fingers reaching traveling lower on your dress and eventually reaching the hem, giving it a slight tug.

yet another giggle slips past your lips, but then you catch a glimpse of something behind him – and your gaze is different when you look back at him. you lean in closer, pressing your body up against his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling his face closer to yours. your lips brush against him once, ever so slightly, and his breath hitches in his throat. is she actually about to give in?

"sorry to disappoint, but..."

timing has never really been on paul's side; he's always been unlucky in that way. even on his own birthday, things don't seem to work out for him – because just as he thinks he's getting somewhere, you suddenly pull away. his confusion only grows when the music is shut off and replaced with the sound of the entire club singing the birthday song. you point behind him, and he turns around to see a few of his friends carrying a big birthday cake, twenty lit candles perched on top of it.

"happy birthday," you whisper, and he shakes his head when he looks back at the teasing grin stretched across your lips.

"you're killing me. you know that, right?"

[nikasbae]

NO CALLER ID - P.B X READER

a/n : “am i okay” by megan moroney is probably the best album ive heard this whole year so now im writing about it !!

warnings : not proofread !! , angst , pretty short

You and Paige recently broke up 3 days ago. Finally after multiple arguments and her cheating on you , you broke up with her and moved on. or so you thought . Paige always liked to drunk call you after an argument because she knew you always would pick up. It made you frustrated knowing that you let her make a joke out of you each time. You wanted things to work out between you guys, but she saw you as a joke.

“It’s the same thing every time Paige! You either treat me right or we can officially end things.” You told Paige. “At least I’m not so insecure about my girlfriend talking to other girls.” Paige quickly replied. It hurt you because you weren’t insecure, you just wanted to be treated correctly. “Paige I love you, I really do. But you treat me horribly. The only reason I’m ’insecure’ is because every night your with a different girl instead of me. I’m supposed to be your girlfriend not side piece.” You told Paige. You heard her laugh and mumble something under her breath. “You know what Paige, get out.” You told Paige. “You’re so pathetic.” Paige said as she put her shoes on, gathered her belongings, and walked out.

The whole day you knew that she was probably out with another girl, getting drunk. You knew that you were slowly getting over her. You went on about your day normally. You, Morgan and Jana were best friends. You would open up to them about the horrible things that Paige would do and they would give you advice in return. You guys decided to buy last minute tickets to a Megan Moroney concert. “Dude wait, what are we gonna wear tonight?” You said looking up at them while you put your phone down. “Definitely something blue. Maybe like a white and blue top with a dark blue skirt? I don’t know” Morgan told you. “Let’s just go buy something and see what’s cute” Jana told you both.

The whole ride back from the store was basically you filling them in about everything that happened between you and Paige. “I think I’m finally over her though” you said. “I’ll believe it when I see it” Morgan said sighing. “Girl please you say that and then the next day you’re back with her.” Jana said as she rolled her eyes.

You three were having the best time at the concert. You were super happy that you could finally feel at peace without Paige. During Megan’s set, you felt your phone buzzing. You took it out of your pocket and you handed your phone to Jana. Paige had this thing about drunk calling you privately, but she had done it so much that you knew every call coming from a ‘No Caller ID’ was her. “Leave her alone, she’s busy.” Jana told Paige over the phone before hanging up on her. The whole night your phone was flooded with texts and missed calls from Paige, but you didn’t care anymore.

Eventually you moved on, but she was still stuck on you. She would text you everyday and, surprisingly she hadn’t changed. You knew she wasn’t going to change anytime soon, so you moved on.

a/n: this was super rushed and not proofread sorry !! but i had to write smth. also please send requests !!

[jiwon1es]

` wedding : jang wonyoung

summary: your girlfriend was never good at keeping secrets, this time not only she catch attention to both of you but she reveals your plans to future.

pairing: jang wonyoung x ive!reader

ive's live was being protagonized by 04 line, already having too much clips since the beginning of it. starship was pretty much careful about them, something about their chemistry and their popular personalities was a thing they needed to take care of, not because the four of you would start some kind of scandal but because you were too much. loud, chaotic, funny, sometimes even forgetting that you were literally idols and you had an image to protect. you were almost fans favorite. on top of that, you were the two popular ships within the group. lizrei and wonyyn quickly became a hot trend the moment you started the live.

wonyoung, who was sitting on your left, was having quite a hard time trying not to look at you with literally her natural heart eyes, whenever you were talking about something you remembered or telling something to dive, even when you just giggle at their comments, wonyoung was mesmerized. her hands found the way to touch you underneath the table, leaving a hand on top of your leg, a habit of hers.

wonyoung gets anxious when she's right next to you and can't touch you. she needs to place her hand on any part of your body to feel safe, whether is your waist, your leg, softly gripping on your clothes, holding hands and stuff like that. some curious dive had notice her hand on your leg and were talking about it but nothing really caught attention. not until miss jang wonyoung screwed it up again.

while talking about christmas and how it was such a holiday filled with love, liz read a comment.

diveinttoive: did you ever plan to get married?

"oh, i think i never really thought about it like that." liz answered.

"yeah me too but yn does for sure. that's even her new year's wish." rei spilled, smiling at you.

"i mean, a ring would look very cute on my finger." you said as you were showing your hand to the camera, having a ring already that wonyoung gave you the day you became girlfriends.

"but you have one." liz pointed out.

"yes, it was a gift from wony. a promise ring." the girl named smiled proudly at the fact. "but i want the engagement ring. that would be so cute." you pouted, caressing the finger where you would place it.

"i think i would look cute as your bridesmaid."

"i think that the five of us would look cute as the bridesmaid." liz added to rei's comment.

"four." wonyoung corrected.

"huh?"

"four of you. i'm not the bridesmaid, i am the bride."

"but i though yn was the one getting married?" liz was confused.

there were almost 5 seconds of pure silence that felt like hell when they both realized what they said.

"so... you're marrying me?" you leaned in the table, head resting in your arm, teasing wonyoung with the most beautiful eyes.

"no—" you raised your eyebrows. "i mean! yes... no!"

rei and liz couldn't hold their laughter at their usually calm friend now getting the blush of her life.

ggaeulsunbbae: wow wonyoung never beating the gay allegations huh

kurakurannie: did this really just happen?

yujinniesbae: they're cute UGH.

"dive are getting wild." liz said while reading the screen.

"wonyoungie are you okay?" rei laughed.

yes, wonyoung couldn't stop the blushing or her heart almost escaping from her chest from beating that fast. you caressed her back, drawing circles trying to calm her down.

"alright, what about you two getting married?" you said, redirecting the target to both liz and rei so that you two could breath.

"wait— what?" liz got nervous.

. . .

"you might got us in trouble, did you know that?" you asked your girlfriend.

now that cameras were off, you were laying down in bed, cuddling wonyoung as she was in top of you like she always do when she needs your kisses and caresses.

"i know!" she sighed. "i just— i just wanted to let them know."

"know what, baby?"

"that we are getting married." she pouts, looking up right in your eyes.

you bite your lip to fight the urge to kiss her, but then you remember. no cameras. so you do, you give her a small kiss and you feel how wonyoung is melting under your hold.

"they're gonna see it someday, i know."

she smiles and it makes your heart feel so warm and safe. you were totally looking forward for the day you could see wonyoung in a long pretty white dress and finally getting to call her your wife.

[oneforthemunny]

christmas (baby, please come home) |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: it's not the most wonderful time of the year for everyone, including you and eddie.

apart of my munny's merriest that you can read here!

contains: angst. eddie is mean. past parental trauma. grief. holiday grief and sadness. angst really.

Heavy boots, covered with slush and snow from the frozen ground below, pounded up the creaking wooden porch. Eddie huffed, his breath clouding around him, a gloved hand reaching for the screen door. The toe of his work boots knocked against the doorway, kicking off the remainder of the snow from the icy, winter wonderland that arrived overnight, just in time for Christmas Eve. With it, came an icy chill that had Eddie working overtime to make sure the horses were warm. 

It was an odd feeling, walking into the mud room, plopping on the bench to pull off his boots. Eddie waited, inhaling in the cold, crisp air, waiting for the warmth to flood back to his system. That cozy heat to thaw out the chill that shocked his system, left his cheeks red and frost bitten from the cold. The euphoric feeling of relief that coated him every time he walked in from the snow. It never came. 

In fact, it felt colder in the house. 

In the house that was decorated, halls decked and every square inch covered with Christmas. The usual homey contentment that came from looking at the decorations was gone, replaced with a miserable, heavy feeling settled deep in the pit of his stomach, feeling him with a sickening guilt. 

Visions of your fight, hateful words piled on with yells and slamming doors, right there in the kitchen. A kitchen that should be filled with Burl Ives’ Christmas album on a loop was missing its merry music; it was missing you. 

“We always spend Christmas with my family.” 

“Yeah, exactly. It’s always about you, what you wanna fuckin’ do!” 

Eddie could see your face as if it was in front of him again. The way your expression fell, crumbling before him, the betrayal in your eyes rimmed with flecks of hurt. It made his stomach turn all over again. 

“You don’t- I thought you liked spending time with my family.” Your voice was small, far too small for your usual tone. “They always love spending time with you, Ed.” 

“Oh, yeah, to you they do.” He scoffed, eyes rolling so hard he gave himself a headache. He could feel it now. “You always leave me with your asshole uncle, who always wants to tell me the same goddamn story about how he used to ride horses growin’ up, like I give a shit-” 

“-Eddie! He’s trying to be nice and talk to you, so you’re not-” 

“-So I’m not miserable? Well, guess what, honey. I’m fuckin’ miserable!” His voice was so loud it shook the wooden cabinets of the kitchen, your tin snowmen rattling on top of the shelves. “I am fuckin’ miserable every Christmas! I would rather be here alone, shovelin’ shit all goddamn night and day than be there!” 

The hitch in your breath rang loud and clear in Eddie’s ear, his own face crumpling this time, a shaky hand rubbing across his eyes to try and keep his composure. But how could he? How could he stop the ache in his chest when he remembered the way you looked at him? The way your eyes filled with tears, lip quivering in fear. You hadn’t cried, not in there, atleast. Instead, you waited until you got to the bedroom, pulling out your own little overnight bag and filling it silently. 

He’d been so furious, so unfathomably filled with weeks of pent up rage, Eddie had to step out. Fury filled steps, a swinging fist to a post that left his knuckles bloody, splintering into the pale skin that was already blooming with bruises. Eddie really regretted it now, sure he’d broken a knuckle at the way it had swelled, doubled in size and kissed with dark purple, welt-like bruises. Oh, what he would do, what he would give, to have you fuss over it, patch it up and huff at him for doing something so immature. 

You didn’t. 

Instead, you stayed silent, save for the heart wrenching, hiccupy sniffle you gave when loading your bag into the trunk. Eddie’s body was still buzzing, electric with every ounce of bitter grief he’d tried to ignore. 

“Where you goin’?” Eddie gritted, tone sharp, it left you shuddering at the unfamiliar sharpness directed at you. 

“You want to shovel shit, since it’s so much better than being with my family.” Your breath stuttered in your chest when you took that breath. One that had Eddie’s heart lurching, nervous system flooding with a damning shock that left his head reeling in fear. 

“Better than being with me.” The crack in your voice matched the crack in Eddie’s own heart, splitting it right down the middle. 

“I don’t want to make you any more miserable than you already are.” You spat, and suddenly, Eddie longed for the sadness in your tone because the bitterness that replaced it was worse. 

Your own boots crunched on the ground, bare with snow and ice, but frozen from the cold. “Have a Merry Christmas by yourself, Eddie.” A hard yank of your car handle, and you were gone. 

Eddie watched you go in a horrified stare, your car disappearing down out of his sight in a red flash, feeling like he was watching a movie- a fucked up movie through his own eyes, but not in his own body. 

Then he was alone. 

Eddie was alone, standing on his family’s land, holding his throbbing hand alone. He was alone then. He was alone later that night, when he crawled into bed, teary eyes and shaking hands grabbing at your pillow, smothering himself with it because it smelled like you- terrified it might be the last time he could smell you. And he was alone now. Sitting in a too still kitchen, in a too quiet house, on Christmas Eve, alone. 

The burning threat of tears choked him, bubbling out of his chest and crept up his throat. Through blurred vision, Eddie could see the time. A little past four. He wondered what you were doing, what your family was doing. If your dad had started a card game yet. The same Rummy game he always made sure to deal Eddie in to- always made sure to include him. 

If your uncle was on his fourth or fifth glass of eggnog, spiking it with an extra pour of Woodford. He’d always offer Eddie some, slurring and spilling a little onto the festive tablecloth. Drunkenly tell him about his childhood, how he grew up riding horses, the same droning story that Eddie would always nod politely at. He was sloshed through the holidays, but never mean- always a jolly drunk, bellowing laughs through shining eyes. No smashing of plates or bruising grips like Eddie’s childhood Christmases always had. 

Or if your mom had got a chance to breathe, pull herself out of the kitchen with your aunts. She’d always hug him so warmly when she’d greet the two of you at the door, fussing over taking your bags and jackets, so happy the two of you were there. She’d even embroidered a stocking for Eddie last year, surprised him with it proudly. He’d nearly cried. 

It was a weird feeling. This feeling that he was becoming a part of your family. That they wanted him to be a part of it. 

He only had Wayne left, the rest of his family was long gone. It filled him with a grimy, gross feeling how much he enjoyed his time with your family. The sickening thought that he was betraying his own, replacing them and filling in their spots with shiny, new replicas. 

Wayne would laugh at him, tell him he should enjoy it, he better enjoy it. “You know Darlene and me go to Florida ev’ry Christmas, boy. You better stick it with ‘er. She’s a good’en.” 

Wayne would be furious at him if he knew. Probably take him ‘round back for the way he spoke to you, about your family. Eddie wouldn’t blame him, he was furious at himself for it. 

Eddie’s eyes found their way to the mantle, your stocking and his lined side by side. His was full, stuffed with small gifts and goodies you’d cheerily slip in, tongue clicking at him when he’d try to peek. Yours was deflated, sans for a small pair of cabin socks Eddie had got in early November. 

The bile in his throat brought him back to his very cruel reality in front of him. He’d been mean to you- he acted like his dad. 

Eddie’s stomach lurched, moving to the sink, a shaking hand pulling his hair back, retching into the sink at the revelation. Parallels of his mom and dad, his childhood, how his mom would decorate the house from top to bottom, make it nice and festive for Eddie. His dad would come in, tear it down, mock her for it in a drunken slur. She’d always buy him a gift, make sure Eddie’s stocking was filled with what she could: penny candies, knitted gloves, dented wacky packs from the discount store. Eddie would make her an ornament, his Mamaw Munson would get her a little gift, but never his dad. Her stocking was always empty. 

A choked sob caught in Eddie’s throat, vomit spewing into the shiny surface under him. Clammy forehead pressed to the cool countertop, he took a deep, shaky sob to try and keep the cry in. The mangled sob that shook his core, rattled his lungs, burned all the way from his stomach to his nose. 

Calloused hands wiped at his wet cheeks, chapped from the cold, giving a fierce sniffle. Eddie felt eight again, noticing for the first time the way his mother’s eyes dimmed, how she tried to hide it when she opened the empty stocking. She had been hopeful that there had been something in there, that this year his dad would remember her, be better. He never was. 

Eddie couldn’t be him, he wouldn’t be. He’d already reflected him in every way, too much for his own comfort lately- screaming at you, that rage that tore through him, bloody knuckles and aching throat that was leaving you in tears. 

As his shaking fingers turned the dial, cradling the phone to his ear, he hoped you would answer- that he could just get to you, talk to you. Your mother’s cheery voice rang over the phone instead, a happy roar of chatter mixed with music playing behind her voice. 

“Oh, Ed?” Your mother’s voice sounded concerned, he could practically see her frown, one you inherited. “Are you feeling better, hon? We miss you. I’m sending your stocking and gifts home- well, not the stocking, I’ll keep that but what’s inside.” 

You’d told them he was sick, covered for him- just like his mom used to do for his dad. The kindness in her tone nearly sent Eddie over the edge, pulling the receiver away to take a breath, to keep the sob from coming out. 

“Ed?” Your mom tried again. “Are you there?” 

“Y-Yeah, I’m sorry. I just… Is s-she around?” Eddie’s voice was tight with emotion, and he knew if he said your name, it would break whatever facade he’s mustered at the moment.

“Uh-huh, one second.” A staticy rustle filled the receiver, your name muffled and falling from your mom’s lips. 

Eddie didn’t realize he was holding his breath, until he released it, a desperate sigh of relief when you took the phone. “Hello?” 

“H-Hi, baby.” Eddie tried, hoping his voice was soft enough, gentler now- than the last time he talked to you. 

“Hi.” You bit, through gritted teeth, dragging the chord of the phone into the hall with you. “What do you want? I’m with my family.” 

His water line brimmed again, overflowing with angry tears. “Yeah, I know, honey. I’m sorry, I just,” Eddie took a deep breath, stuttering in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

Your own lip wobbled, fresh with tears. You’d pulled into your parents drive the night before, eyes red rimmed from your cry, telling them something about the hay and your allergies. They’d believed you, pulled you in with a warm hug. It was nice, comforting at your home, surrounded by your family until you were asleep. A bed had never felt so cold.

 “I don’t-” You grit, trying to keep your own emotions in. “This is why you called me?” 

Eddie flinched at the venom in your own tone. “I am sorry. I’m so fuckin’ sorry, baby, you don’t even kno-ow.” Eddie’s chest stuttered. “I didn’t mean any of that, I swear. I was- I’m just… I’m not doing great this year, baby.” 

Your heart jumped at the shake in his tone, the rawness of his words. “You really hurt my feelings, Ed.” You admitted, your voice smaller. “I don’t- I don’t know why you don’t like my family. They love you-” 

“-I don’t.” Eddie shook his head, fist balled around the phone. “I didn’t mean any of that. I love your family, I-I love you.” 

“So, you said all of that, why?” You scoffed lowly. 

Eddie’s knee bounced. He hadn’t expected you just to forgive him, but it was still hard- hard when you weren’t here, when you were away and hurt, and he was alone and miserable. 

Miserable, the single word in the world he wished to never say or hear again. 

“I…” Eddie’s hand threaded through his matted locks. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Not- no, no, no, not you or- fuck, that’s not what I meant.” Eddie rambled stupidly. 

“I feel weird about being with your family on Christmas because…I like it.” Eddie’s vision was blurred, watery with tears. “It’s just different from what I grew up with, and… and I don’t know, sometimes it’s just, it’s overwhelming, baby.” 

You stayed silent on the other end, the only sound signaling you were still on the line was the faint yells and mummers of your family, only making Eddie’s heart ache even more. “They’re all so nice, it-it makes me… I didn’t have that. My family didn’t have that, and-and every time I’m there it just makes me wish they did.” 

The both of you fell into a silence, one that was becoming far too common. Eddie’s heart hammered behind his ribcage. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. This- nothing is your fault, you know that? This is on me. I shouldn’t have ever talked to you like that, said that shit. I’d beat the dog walking shit out of anyone who said that shit about you, and then I say it? That’s just-” Eddie let out a humorless, watery laugh, fist pressed to his forehead in an attempt to extinguish that fury burning through his chest again. 

A cleansing breath later, Eddie’s head was in his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, wobbly when he told you. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

“It’s… We can talk later, Eddie.” Your voice finally rang through, shaky and unsteady, clutching the phone like it was your life long. “Thank you for calling me. For telling me that.” 

The silence settled again, both of you unsure, scared to make the next move. 

“I, uh, I wish you were here.” You broke the silence this time. “My family keeps asking about you. They miss you, a lot.” 

“I miss you.” Eddie sniveled, wiping his running nose with the back of his hand. “I mean, I miss them too, but I just… I miss you a lot.” 

A pause, the slight clear of your throat. “I have to go.” You whispered, voice tight and Eddie knew you were close to tears. “I have to help my mom set the table, but… I’ll call you tonight.” 

“I love you.” Eddie blurted, sacred he might forget to say it with how his head was swimming. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I know.” Your voice was soft. It made Eddie’s stomach lurch all over again. 

The line droned in a steady beep after your receiver clicked. Eddie held the phone there, eyes shining dully with unshed tears in the lights of the strung decorations. A defeated slump in his shoulders. He didn’t feel any better, worse if anything. 

Eddie was surrounded by a deafening silence, the house too quiet. Too quiet to be Christmas. Too quiet without you. 

The soft glow from the barn pulled Eddie’s attention, the doors pulled to keep the heat in for the horses. He twisted the phone in his palms, turning it over in his hands gently before jabbing his fingers back into the dial. 

The line rang once, twice, nearly a third before it was answered. 

“Gare, hey, I’ve got a big ask…” 

“Honey,” Your mom’s eyes squinted, yellow rubber gloves dunked into the soapy warm water in front of her. “I thought you said Ed wasn’t coming.” 

You nearly dropped the plate you were drying, breath caught in your throat. “What?” You hissed, leaning to look out the small window over the sink. Sure enough, there in the dark, snow covered driveway was Eddie’s truck. 

“I-I didn’t think he was.” You shook your head, setting the plate down gently. “He said he wasn’t feeling well. I’m just- I’ll be right back.” Slipping on your boots, not bothering to lace them, you stepped outside into the frigid cold of the night. 

Eddie didn’t see you, back turned, grabbing armfulls of bags out of the back seat. “What are you doing here?” 

He jumped, nearly dropping your aunt’s present, eyes wide when he turned. “Shit, I-I…” Eddie’s tongue tied, jumbled and thick in his mouth. He didn’t expect to see you, standing there, in your little Christmas sweater that had his heart swelling. He wanted to kiss you, coo at you for being so cute, get you all blushy and giggle at his compliments. 

Your lifted brow, arms crossed over your chest protectively stopped him. “I wanted to give your family their gifts. I-I was just going to leave them on the porch and tell you when I called tonight.” 

Your foot twisted into the snow, eyes cast downward. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Eddie nodded firmly. “They’re not- It’s not great. The mall was closing early so I had to kinda rush, but, uh, I wanted to get them something.” He looked at you, eyes shining with emotion. “Wanted to get you something too.” 

Your stocking was hooked onto his left pointer finger, a crooked bend of the knitted fabric, hanging heavy and filled with tiny trinkets and things that ruffled. You looked at it carefully, face quipping just barely, but Eddie caught it. “I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.” Eddie muttered lowly, breath showing under the glow of the lights. 

“Thank you.” You nodded, swallowing thickly around your words. “I can help you take them in.” 

“No,” Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want to… I know you don’t want to be with me right now, baby, and I get it. I’ll just drop them off-” 

“-Come inside.” You sighed, arms still tight around his chest. “My mom already saw you. It’s just easier for you to come in.” 

Eddie tried to hide the hurt he felt with a simple nod. “I don’t want to ruin your Christmas.” He muttered softly. “More than I already have.” 

“Eddie,” You sounded tired, words heavy with emotion, exhaustion maybe. “Come inside.” Your eyes lifted to his, so sweet, nearly pleading he was sure he might sob. “There’s still leftovers. I’ll heat them up for you.” 

So Eddie followed you inside, gifts under his arms, letting your family greet him warmly, chocking his red eyes and matching nose up to the hay fever he’d been having. Your mom fixed him a plate, poured you both a glass of mulled wine. 

In the tiny bed of your childhood room, the two of you talked in hushed voices, silent apologies traded over soft touches. 

“I didn’t mean it.” Eddie whispered, nose pushing into your neck. “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” You nodded, and you did. Even if it still hurt, still wounded from the words, you knew that was true. 

Eddie’s cheek pressed against your shoulder, hands grabbing at you, pulling you closer and closer like at any moment you might disappear from his clutches. “My mom,” His voice cracked, eyes pinching shut. “She used to love Christmas.” 

“Really?” You hum, tone as even as it could be with the shock. Eddie never spoke about his mother. 

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “She, uh, she used to decorate every Thanksgiving. Pull out the tree after dinner, put it up. My dad,” Eddie swallowed around the bitter title. “He was always passed out by then, so she could do it pretty quickly. Get it up and ready before he’d wake up and bitch. It wasn’t a lot, a tree and some other stuff, but I’d always help her. She-She always let me put the angel on top.” 

You weren’t sure what to say, what you were supposed to say. Eddie’s mom was a sensitive spot. One he didn’t talk about much, at all, really. 

“She would really like your family.” Eddie’s voice was small, a rarity. Always the loud, rough and tough cowboy, commanding wild bucks all day. Small wasn’t in his vocabulary. 

“They would have really liked her.” You said slowly, vibrations from your voice tickling Eddie’s ear. 

Eddie knew it was true. He felt stupid, really, waves of horrible guilt crashing over him again as he clung tighter to you. Your family wasn’t the enemy, wasn’t one to try and replace his own family, just an extension. 

He meant what he said, that his Mama would like your family. He already knew she’d love you, simply because he did. He hoped it was true, that your family would’ve loved her. He knew deep down they would have, that they would welcome her with the same warmth that they gave him. 

That they’d always make sure her stocking was full on Christmas morning, because they always made sure his was. 

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (8/?)

Part summary: Leigh heads off to Palm Springs with Danny, while you grapple with what to do about your feelings for her.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 5.000+ | Warnings : Slight angst | Author's Note: No, I did not forget about Danny still not being honest with Leigh and R not tattling on Danny. Just let these loose ends dangle for a while. Anyway, enjoy! :)

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Next part

-

The morning after you gave Leigh a puppy for her birthday, your phone is flooded with texts from her, filled with questions ranging from vaccine schedules to the best chew toys. She shares a story about how Rogue, their previous dog, had always been Matt’s, and how she often felt left out of his care. Now, with Logan, she feels a full sense of ownership and is eager to get everything right.

You still flinch slightly whenever she mentions her late husband. It’s as if she forgets that you and Matt had something significant too, as if you weren't once the secret he kept close. Sometimes, you wish you could just erase his presence, simplify everything about your relationship with Leigh. 

But you recognize that it’s selfish to wish him away, because Matt was a significant part of Leigh’s life, a major influence on who she has become. And who she is today is a lovely person—someone you've come to admire very deeply.

[6:20 AM] Leigh: Logan’s an angel, slept through the night.

[6:35 AM] Leigh: So, house training... how do I make sure Logan doesn’t turn my bed into his personal bathroom like he did five seconds ago?

You grimace at the message, picturing the hassle of laundering the sheets and possibly needing to call a cleaning service for the mattress.

[6:54 AM] Leigh: And shots? Rogue was all up to date because Matt was on it, but I’m clueless. Where do I start?

As you work your espresso machine, a grin spreads across your face, the kind that makes you feel like a complete fool but in the best possible way.

[6:56 AM] You: Good morning! You’re lucky I don’t bill for text consultations 😆

You typically charge $18 for a twenty-minute chat with a client.

[6:58 AM] Leigh: Oh. How much do I owe you? I want to pay.

Your smile falters a little at her missing your joke.

[6:58 AM] You: I was just kidding. Your texts are more than welcome, Leigh.

Feeling bold, you follow that up with something you've been wanting to make clear since last night.

[6:59 AM] You: This is what friends are for, right?

Waiting for Leigh’s reply feels like an eternity, and you're about to send another text to walk back your hint at friendship when your phone vibrates.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: I’d feel better paying. Can I drop by the clinic later?

Reading her message, you're hit with a rush—excited at the thought of seeing her, yet downhearted she's talking about paying, as if that's what's between you. But then, those little typing dots appear. You're practically holding your breath.

[7:00 AM] Leigh: We’re friends, which is why I’m paying.

It's a good thing you don't have a roommate, or else you'd never get away with grinning like an idiot at your phone. It's a bit ridiculous, you think, how high school this all feels—waiting for a glimpse, a moment, anything.

[7:01 AM] You: Absolutely, come by anytime. Looking forward to it 🙂

You hit send and lean back, trying to act like you didn't just have a mini celebration over a text. 

And then, spurred by Leigh texting you first thing in the morning, you decide to add her on your social media accounts. You spend an extra fifteen minutes getting ready that morning, simply because you lingered longer in the shower, listening to songs that remind you of Leigh and how this crush is dangerously close to becoming something uncontainable.

-

[10:13 AM] Notification: Leigh accepted your friend request.

-

As it turns out, Leigh is a serial texter. 

It’s odd, really. For someone who might come across as reclusive and somewhat untouchable, she is surprisingly talkative over text. The messages start coming in more frequently after this morning's exchange, just moments after you've finally left home to drive to your clinic. What's even more interesting is that this time, they're not about Logan.

And they’re all unusually random and unrelated to one another: memes that make you laugh out loud, articles on topics ranging from the philosophical implications of artificial intelligence to the best way to juicing recipes. You find yourself waiting for these messages, eager to see what tangent Leigh's mind has wandered off to now. You get into it, dissecting the articles she sends over with the seriousness of a scholar. You type back your thoughts, trying to sound as insightful as possible, maybe even a bit witty, hoping to impress her. You imagine this might be her way of initiating deeper, intellectual conversations between you two.

So, when you send back a paragraph or two analyzing the latest article she's shared, maybe touching on its impacts on modern society or offering a counterpoint to the author's thesis, Leigh's responses aren’t what you expect. Instead of engaging with the discussion, she sends a  simple thumbs-up emoji or, even more baffling, a random factoid about her day, like her opinion on the Kani salad from a sushi bar near the Beautiful Beast gym.

[12:15 PM] Leigh: [sent a photo] Just some store-bought crab sticks and diluted mayo. Don’t try it. Their saké though is 👌👌👌

You wonder why she’s having Japanese rice wine this early in the day.

[12:22 PM] You: Thanks for the heads up. I know a place for authentic Japanese food. You want to check it out with me some time?

Your text remains unseen for the rest of the afternoon.

-

You find yourself staring intently at the wall clock in your clinic, keenly aware of each minute slipping by, and with it, the dwindling chance of Leigh arriving before the doors lock for the day. As it nears 8 in the evening, Suzie is already wrapped up in her end-of-day tasks across the lobby. Leaning your cheek on your palm, you watch blankly as she meticulously arranges her desk, perfectly aligning each item, then moves on to gently pull the blinds closed on each window.

Suzie’s not blind. She throws you these knowing glances every time you let out one of your heavy sighs. Finally, after you've probably sighed loud enough to be heard next door, she stops what she's doing and plants herself in front of you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

You try to look puzzled. “Nothing. Why?”

Suzie rolls her eyes. “Please, you’ve been mooning over that clock and sighing like you’re carrying the world on your shoulders. What’s up?”

You crack a smile, partly at her description, partly from being caught moping like a lovesick teenager. “It’s just… I thought maybe Leigh would come by. She said she would,” you say, wincing at yourself when the last part comes out a bit whiny. 

Without missing a beat, Suzie pivots from her closing duties and makes her way over to you. 

She’s not delicate with you this time. “You’re doing that thing again. Waiting around for something that’s probably not gonna happen. It’s not doing you any good.”

You know she's hitting the nail on the head, but it's tough to swallow.

Suzie continues, “You're young, you're attractive, and it's honestly weird that you're pining over your ex's ex. At first, I thought it was kind of adorable, in a bizarre, romantic-comedy kind of way. But now, it's like you're always hung up and disappointed.”

“Thanks for saying I’m young when I’m five years older than you,” you say with a sheepish smile, hiding your disappointment that she isn’t saying the things you want to hear, such as the possibility that Leigh just got busy.

Suzie shakes her head in disapproval. She's fed up, and her next words aren't going to be sugar-coated. “Snap out of it!” she barks, the command hitting you like a cold splash of water, and you jerk back in your chair, wide-eyed. Seeing you shrink back, quivering, she softens a bit and shifts back to the harmless receptionist you’re used to.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Suzie says, ensuring she has your full attention. You manage to meet her gaze, even though your eyelids feel heavy. “It's not fair to Leigh, either. You're giving meaning to everything she does—or doesn't do. It's putting her in an impossible situation. And honestly, it's not fair to you. You're missing out on your own life, waiting for someone who... well, who might never show up the way you want her to.”

Suzie knows she’s being tough, but sometimes love means being the friend who won’t let you settle for anything less than you deserve.

“I hear you, okay? It’s just… it’s the way I’m wired. I latch onto a person like a leech, refusing to let go until I see it through,” you mutter, shielding your face with your hands, a bit ashamed to even say it out loud. You get so tunnel-visioned, missing out on maybe better things and experiences because you're stuck on one track. You fall hard for your choices, never by chance.

“Good. You know what’s wrong with you,” Suzie says softly. 

You let out a weak chuckle, the sound tinged with a bit of self-mockery. You're half-hidden behind your hands, peeking out at Suzie as if she's got all the answers. Suzie pries your fingers away from your face and then pinches your cheek so hard, you start to whine a bit.

“Ow! What was that for?” you protest, rubbing your assaulted cheek.

“That's for being a pathetic little bitch.”

“Excuse me, I'm still the one signing your paychecks,” you shoot back, trying to sound offended but it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, boss,” she laughs, and you join in. 

“Okay, so what do you suggest I do then?” you ask as the last of your chuckles die down.

“Go on a date,” comes her swift response. “All that stuff they say about love finding you when you're not looking? Biggest lie ever.”

You look at her curiously, assessing her physical features. “W-With you?”

“Dude, no! Not with me!” Suzie exclaims, laughing nervously. “I mean, sure, I'd take you out if you weren't my boss, but I don't see that happening anytime soon unless you fire me.”

“Got it, got it,” you say, still chuckling. Suzie realizes too late that you were just teasing her and huffs. “Not with you. But seriously, go on a date? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just meet someone.”

“You make it sound like it’s easy.”

“Because it is,” she says with a shrug. “Here. Give me your phone.”

-

Leigh doesn’t know what to do with the fact that you may or may not have feelings for her. 

So, she does what she does best: Pretend.

Leigh pretends you’re not EspressoEyes. In her mind, it could just be a coincidence, and you might not be the person who wrote to her advice column. Without any concrete evidence, she holds onto this notion, using it as a shield to fend off the uncertainties and doubts that would follow if she believed otherwise.

Leigh pretends because she needs your help to figure out how to care for Logan. Because maybe she wants to be friends. When you join her for a run, you don’t press for conversation, a rare companion who's not afraid of silence. Having you around feels like having Matt around, in a way that she's reminded of him when you talk about the same things you like, the same books you've read, and the same music you listen to. 

Leigh pretends it doesn’t bother her in case you are EspressoEyes. She’s no stranger to turning heads as she walks down the street, accustomed to the attention. There's a certain power in being desired, and Leigh revels in it. But the idea of you liking her doesn't quite make sense to her; it's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. It’s not because you’re a woman—she’s been with women before. What Leigh can't wrap her head around is that you, of all people, could actually be into her. After all, she hasn’t exactly been her most charming self since you two met. Even her best friend is keeping a cautious distance. She’s been wearing down the people closest to her, those who are supposed to like her the most.

And this bewilderment doesn't sit well with Leigh. She is someone who thrives on understanding, on knowing where she stands with people and why. So, when pretending isn’t enough, she does what she does second-best: Avoid.

She must have been waiting in her car outside your clinic for the better part of the evening, debating with herself about what to do next. She's parked just out of view, positioned so she can see the clinic entrance without being too conspicuous. She hasn't eaten dinner yet, her stomach growling, but she remains glued to her spot across from where she knows you're waiting for her.

Ever since you subtly asked her out through text, she’s been on edge, second-guessing her actions (texting and sharing posts on the internet with you all morning, what was she thinking?) and wondering what they might have meant to you. Leigh didn’t mean to leave you hanging—she did come to your clinic, sort of. She remembers typing out a response to you, something witty and non-committal, but her finger hovered over the ‘send’ button before pulling back. It felt like too much, too soon. She needed time to think, to figure out why the idea of checking out authentic Japanese food with you left her feeling so conflicted inside.

Leigh's guilt gnaws at her as she sits there, wrestling with how to extricate herself without causing further confusion—or worse, hurt. Eventually, it all comes to a head. She finally gives in, typing out a message to you on her phone with a shaky urgency.

[7:53 PM] Leigh: I'm so sorry, something came up. I can't make it to the clinic after all.

Your reply comes quickly, much to her astonishment, especially since she hadn't opened your message all afternoon.

[7:54 PM] You: It's fine, don't worry about it. I can have Logan's supplies delivered to your place if that works better for you.

Reading your text, Leigh bites her lip, another surge of guilt washing over her. Your kindness, your willingness to accommodate her, only complicates this predicament further.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: Yes, that would be great, thank you.

[7:54 PM] Leigh: How much do I owe you?

As she starts nibbling at her cuticle, Leigh is eager to resolve at least the financial aspect of her obligation. Though she knows she owes you so much more than just Logan’s supplies.

[7:56 PM] You: Like I said, it's on the house. But just this time ☺️

It’s still too generous. But Leigh knows better than to argue further, concerned that insisting might hurt your feelings.

[7:56 PM] Leigh: Thank you. I won’t forget this.

[7:57 PM] You: 😊😊😊

Leigh sighs, remembering her promise that you could visit Logan anytime. She hopes you won’t take her up on that offer too soon, at least not until she has a chance to sort herself out.

-

Danny isn’t too bad once you get to know him. That's what Leigh learns after more than two months of dating him. 

Initially, Leigh wasn't sure what to make of Danny. Their shared wit and sarcasm often put them at odds, like two alphas vying for the upper hand, each one not willing to back down, always aiming for the last word. Yet, in their calmer moments, when the competitive edge fades and they're just enjoying each other's company, Leigh finds something unexpectedly comforting about being with him. He has this confidence about himself that Matt never had, knowing exactly what he wants—and that's her. His straightforward approach makes everything about being with him feel predictable. And lately, she's starting to see predictability as a good thing, a sign of stability. This is a welcome change from the uncertainty that often left her anxious about the future. Plus, all these traits spill over into the bedroom, making the sex between them feel effortless and satisfying in a way she’s never experienced before.

Despite all this, there are days when Leigh finds herself merely tolerating Danny's affections. A part of her remains tightly locked, still bruised from losing Matt, and she's not sure if those doors should—or even can—open again. To compensate, she often says yes when she can, whenever her mood permits her to be giving and amenable.

And it is exactly why she says yes when Danny asks her to go to Palm Springs with him this weekend. 

-

The getaway feels like an extended lazy morning where the concept of time blurs into insignificance. They drift from one hotel restaurant to another, luxuriating in the art of doing absolutely nothing. This routine isn't new to them; it’s the same one they slip into whether they’re at Danny’s apartment or Leigh’s place—only now, the scenery is different, and the sheets they tangle in are expensively soft, boasting a thread count far beyond anything either of them owns at home. 

They're lounging by the pool, sipping Margaritas—Leigh with a book in hand and Danny absorbed in his phone—when your name comes up in conversation.

“So, how are things between you and Y/N?” Danny asks, not looking up from his phone.

Leigh stiffens slightly. She carefully moderates her tone, her face schooled into an expression of indifference as she marks her page and looks over at him. “What about me and Y/N?”

“I don't know... are you guys friends now?”

If Leigh weren’t so preoccupied with her own personal concerns about you, she might have recognized the underlying worry his question poses. What he's actually trying to figure out is whether you've come clean to Leigh about his role in Matt’s secret affair with you.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” she says. To say otherwise would be a lie, because you’ve been nothing but good to her. Danny seems satisfied with this answer, nodding before returning his attention to his phone.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbles. He's back to mindless scrolling, but Leigh can sense the tension from two feet away. 

“No, tell me,” Leigh insists, placing her book on the side table between them with a definitive thud. Danny mirrors her actions, setting his phone face down and turning to her with a seriousness that clashes with their otherwise relaxed afternoon.

“I just don't get why you'd be friends with Matt's mistress,” he blurts out suddenly. 

Leigh is taken aback. They've never fully discussed what transpired between you and Matt, so she hadn't realized he was paying such close attention to her interactions with you. Believing that he wasn't privy to all the details, she quickly jumps to your defense.

“Y/N didn’t even know Matt was married to me,” she explains, trying to clarify the misunderstanding and protect your integrity.

“Yeah? And you just took her word for it?” Danny doesn’t bother to hide his skepticism, and it irks Leigh more than usual. She doesn't understand why every conversation with Danny has to turn into a challenge or an argument.

“There’s no evidence to suggest otherwise,” Leigh replies, her voice tightening as she struggles to keep her frustration in check. “I mean, I even went through your phone to see what Matt had been saying to you, and there was nothing there indicating that Y/N knew he was married.”

Danny feels a lump form in his throat. Fortunately for him, Matt hadn't mentioned anything in their texts about Danny being Nick either. He has been debating whether to disclose his role in everything to Leigh. But things between them have gotten serious, and Danny's not so sure he should come clean. Part of him wants to delay—perhaps until they are married with kids, when he's more certain that Leigh won't leave him over a past mistake.

“Look, I'm not saying don’t trust her, but... she used to be in love with Matt, right? You don't think there's a chance she resents you even a little?” 

Leigh stops for a second, Danny's words prompting her to consider aspects she hadn't really thought about before. Wrapped up in her own insecurities, jealousy, and pain when she discovered the truth about you, she had never stopped to consider your perspective—how you might have felt learning that the man you had feelings for was married. Did you feel just as fooled and stung as she did? The thought bounces around her head for a moment. From what she can recall, nothing in your behavior has ever suggested that you're a bitter ex. But then, what if you're just exceptionally good at masking your feelings?

Do you really like her, or is it all an act—a scheme?

But then, she remembers the night you gave her Logan, how your smile was nothing but warm, your eyes bright with something that, looking back, Leigh realizes might have been admiration. Not even Danny looks at her like that, whose gaze is always bridling yearning and a desire to possess. Leigh shakes her head, almost laughing at the thought of Danny being right about you.

“Danny, honestly,” Leigh finally says, trying to put an end to the discussion, “if what you're saying is true, I can handle it myself.” It seems the quickest way to close this topic, knowing that debating it could easily consume their entire afternoon and completely derail the purpose of their vacation.

“But doesn't it hurt, having her around? Like a reminder that Matt went for someone else?” He's playing on a different fear now, not questioning your integrity, but poking at the scars Leigh's tried so hard to heal. 

Leigh wants to admit the pain never went away. She’s merely learned to co-exist with it. It's like the weather for her: on some days, her mind is a landscape of clear skies, but when the storm hits, it's relentless. For now, she chooses to keep this pain private, unwilling to give anyone the leverage to use it against her or even attempt to fix her. It's her burden to bear, and hers alone.

“No,” Leigh answers, reaching for her book again. “I don’t see it that way anymore.”

- 

Leigh ends her nearly year-long social media hiatus by posting a series of photos from her Palm Springs vacation with Danny. Sharing such personal moments publicly is uncharacteristic for her, especially given her minimal online presence over the past months. Maybe it felt like sending a message to everyone that she’s doing okay. That they can go back to seeing her as just Leigh again—a single, actively dating woman in her early thirties—not as the young widow she was in her late twenties.

Danny's friends are the first to swarm the comments. They tag Danny, peppering the feed with teasing remarks, their comments ranging from jokes about the desert heat to compliments on the couple's sun-drenched physique. It's all typical, light-hearted friend banter, until one comment sharply disrupts the mood: 

“Yo, isn't that your brother's wife?”

Leigh deletes the comment within seconds of seeing it.

A few hours later, you ‘like’ her post. Leigh's eyes fix unblinkingly on the notification. She's been idly wondering if you'd seen the post, and now, you’ve confirmed it yourself. But what does that ‘like’ mean?

Is it a nod of approval, a silent indication that you're happy for her? Regardless of what it means, Leigh discovers she was sending another message—one that’s exclusively for you. It tells you that whether you're EspressoEyes, whether you harbor any feelings for her or not, it no longer matters.

She's with Danny now.

-

Returning from Palm Springs, Leigh feels different—like she’s turned a corner or something. She feels refreshed, and she wants to take on something, such as Drew’s grievances about her advice column. She picks one to start with, something about anniversary ideas, and she's got the perfect story for this.

It was one of those anniversaries with Matt, the kind that stands out from the rest of his surprises because it's so quintessentially him—albeit a little nerdy. He took her away from the city's glare to a secluded spot where the sky was a blanket of stars, untainted by artificial light. After laying out a rug for them to both settle on, he began the painstaking process of setting up a rather complex telescope. It took him nearly an hour, but the wait just made the moment even more special. With the telescope finally ready, Matt pulled out this old, crinkly constellation map and started hunting for one specific star. It was one of the last times Leigh remembered them being truly happy—deeply in love, free from the shadows of Matt’s depression, Leigh’s instinct to fix things, and the small lies that slowly eroded their relationship.

When he finally located it, he excitedly guided her to peer through the telescope. There it is—a tiny speck of light, but it's theirs. Matt turned to her with a bashful smile and revealed that he had 'bought' that star for her.

Leigh shares this story with her reader, emphasizing that it's about understanding what truly moves your partner. For her, it was that star—simple, unexpected, and insanely romantic. She tells her reader to find that one-of-a-kind thing, that personal touch that says “I love you” in a way that can only come from them. Just like Matt did with a star and a starry night.

It's only after she closes her laptop that Leigh realizes tears have been streaming down her face.

-

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

It takes a moment to recognize who you've just bumped into. This encounter isn't as jarring as the last; it’s merely a brush of shoulders as you both maneuver to avoid incoming traffic. That ‘incoming traffic’ turns out to be none other than Leigh Shaw.

She's beaming up at you, and it looks genuine despite the sparse interactions since she last canceled on you. You’re still catching your breath, your heart racing from the speed of your run and something else entirely.

“At least I didn’t make you crash on the pavement this time. I'd say that’s significant progress,” you quip, drawing a soft laugh from Leigh. Last week, you made the firm decision to compartmentalize your feelings for Leigh, resolving to see her strictly as a friend. Yet, when faced with reality, such resolutions seem trivial, particularly when that reality includes Leigh smiling at you with her effortlessly charming grin—a smile that, despite your best efforts, still sends a familiar flutter through your stomach and makes your knees feel like they're made of something much less solid than bone.

“Speaking of progress, Logan’s due for his vaccines this week, right?” You remember the schedule clearly, not just because you’re good with dates, but because Logan has become somewhat of a shared responsibility between the two of you—or at least that’s how you still see it.

“Oh, right. I promise I'll swing by. No bailing this time,” she says, chuckling, but there’s a serious undertone that tells you she’s committed to making good on her word this time.

“You better not,” you tease, “Can’t have Logan missing his shots. He’s still very young, and it’s critical we build up his protection against—”

“I won’t, Doctor,” Leigh cuts in, giving you a playful salute that makes you blush. “So, where are you off to after this? I was actually about to grab some donuts for breakfast—”

Leigh pauses mid-sentence as a woman appears at your side. She’s stunning—slightly taller than Leigh, clad in a sports bra and tight yoga pants, with sneakers on her feet. An absolute goddess; even Leigh can’t resist a quick, appreciative glance.

“Who's this?” the woman asks with a British accent, adding the perfect touch to her 5-foot-7 frame.

“This is Leigh,” you introduce quickly, noting the surprise in Leigh's expression. “Leigh, this is Sara.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Sara says warmly, extending her hand. Leigh shakes it, though her movements are somewhat mechanical. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh?” Leigh’s smile is strained. “Nice to meet you, too.”

You quickly steer the topic back to Leigh's breakfast plan, asking where the donut place is. “It's just down that street,” Leigh points vaguely, but then stops short. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Actually, I just remembered I've got to pick up something from the laundromat.”

You frown, thrown by her sudden change of tune. “Are you sure? We could grab a bite after the run.”

“No, really, I should get going. Maybe next time!” Leigh replies hastily, already stepping back, her exit swift and decisive. As she hurries away, you're left there, watching her leave, trying to figure out what flipped her mood from happy to wanting to escape so quickly.

“Shall we?” Sara nudges you gently, already jogging in place. 

You give Sara a nod, but as you start running, you can't help but sneak one last look back. Leigh is quick to put distance between herself and the park. With a sigh, you turn your full attention back to Sara, who’s already picking up the pace, chatting about a new trail she wants to try next weekend.

“Let's go,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, as you push your legs to match her pace.

Meanwhile, Leigh walks briskly to a different restaurant, forsaking her initial craving for donuts. She can’t quite explain why she fabricated an errand; all she knows is that she needed to get away from you and Sara. Earlier, she couldn't help but notice how close Sara was standing to you, assessing you with a look that seemed a bit too interested. Leigh keeps turning over Sara's words in her mind, puzzling over what she meant by saying she'd heard a lot about her from you.

Why were you talking about her with Sara? Who exactly is Sara to you? Just a friend, or something more?

And what Leigh finds even more perplexing is why she's so troubled by needing to know the answers.

[storm-angel989]

OTO Fluff- Valentino's Sick Day

Hi All,

So TECHNICALLY this isn't a part of the overarching storyline, and I couldn't quite find the right chapter to stick it in- so its a little one shot I scribbled out. While everyone is eagerly awaiting the wedding night, here is a little something to hold you over!

Enjoy <3 And thank you for your patience!

Our alarm clock went off at its usual early hour and I rolled myself over, hitting the alarm clock. I looked over to where Valentino was snuggled under a mound of blankets and reached under to shake him awake. My hand touched his skin and I frowned at the heat he gave off. Valentino had never been this warm before.

“Val?” I asked, tugging down the blankets.

He let out a shiver and slowly sat up, his face pale. I pressed my hand against his cheek, and then his forehead. He radiated heat. 

“Val, you don’t look good. Do you feel okay?”

“I’m fine love,” he said and then let out a cough and a wheezy inhale. 

“Oh no you're not,” I said firmly. “You’re sick.”

“While that may be true I have a busy day today,” he said as he stood up. He shivered as he pushed the blankets off and stood up.  “Listen, cariño. I’m going to take a shower. I need you to run downstairs to my studio. In the room with the hospital bed tell the nurse on duty to give you two banana bags and all the things to start and IV line. And take my laptop off my desk and bring it to me.”

“Val, you don’t need an IV. You need rest and fluids.” I said as firmly as I could. “Not drugs. I mean, other than a fever reducer.” 

“Don’t argue with me, bebita,” he growled. “I mean it when I said I can’t miss work today. I have big money riding on this shoot and…”

“Fine. Get in the shower then, I’ll be back.” I turned and walked out the door, grabbing a tote bag and making my way downstairs, an idea beginning to form. Valentino didn’t want to rest because he was too busy? Fine. I had been in the studio enough to fill his shoes. 

I explained to the nurse what I needed and she happily obliged. I took his laptop from his desk and made my way back to his room. I dropped the bag and walked into the bathroom. He had just stepped out of the shower, visibly shivering as he wrapped himself in his robe. I watched as he gripped the counter top to steady himself. My poor Valentino- I had never seen him like this. I dug through the drawer and came up with a thermometer, standing in front of him. 

“Stick it in your mouth. Now.” I told him firmly. “Don’t argue with me.”

He closed his eyes and sighed in exasperation but did as I ordered. As soon as I heard the beep, he removed it and handed it back to me. 

“Val! You’re running a fever. 102.4 is not okay to go into work with,” I told him firmly.

He sighed. “Princessa. I have to…”

“No you don’t. I’ll set you up here and I’ll direct for you today.”

I don’t think if I had smacked him it would have shocked him more. He stared at me in a mix of agony and horror. 

“Come on Val. Everyone there knows me. Everyone there respects me enough to do what I say, under the threat of you. I’m not the little angel I was when I first walked into the studio. I have power now. Val, please. Stay in bed and let me do this for you.” 

“Fine,” he answered horsley. “Fine. Only because I feel like I’m about to throw up. You need to be down there by ten. Go take a shower, I’m going back to bed.” 

I watched him walk out and close the door behind him. I got ready as quickly as I could, tossing my own robe on before walking out to check on him. 

To my suprise, he was propped up against the pillows, blankets piled over him,  his eyes closed. Next to him was the tote bag, its contents spread over the bed. I walked over to him and leaned over, kissing his forehead. 

“Val, you need to take something to bring down the fever, otherwise you won’t feel better.” I said, sitting next to him. “And take some of the blankets off, you’ll overheat.”

“Princessa, I am freezing. If I can get my hands to stop shaking long enough to put the IV in, I will. It has a fever reducer in it, which is why I asked specifically for a banana bag.” He said, yanking the covers back over him. 

I hesitated, “Val, I can try to put in if you can walk me through it, or I can call the nurse…”

“No one outside of us can see me like this,” he said and then broke out into a coughing fit. He closed his eyes. “Fuck my chest hurts.” 

“Walk me through it, then," I said gently. “Come on Val, you have to trust me.” 

“Never, in all my life have I ever let anyone other than myself or a trusted medical professional put a needle into my vein,” he said softly. “Fine. I guess there is a first time for everything. First things first. Go wash, and I do mean wash, your hands. And when you get back to me, glove up. I love you, but I’m not fucking around with this.”

I did as he asked and when I came back from the bathroom, I pulled on a pair of blue gloves from the box the nurse gave me. Valentino watched and gave a bit of a groan at the sound of them snapping on.

“Alright. Grab the red band and tie it just above this vein right here.” He held out his arm and pointed to a prominent blue and purple vein in the crook. “The needle is going to go into this vein, with any fucking luck.” 

I carefully picked up the rubber like band and tied it taut against his skin. He hung his arm off the side of the bed and took a deep breath. I could see him try to relax himself. 

“Trust me, Val.” I said softly. 

“I do. If I didn’t, this wouldn’t be a conversation.” He laid his arm back on the bed and with his other hand, he pressed against the purple vein. “Feel this. Don’t be scared, just touch it.” 

I reached and gently pressed against the vein with my gloved hand. 

“Feel how the vein bounces back? That’s where you want to hit. Now the rubbing alcohol packet. Clean the vein and the immediate surrounding area.”

I did as he instructed, and the antiseptic scent filled the air. 

“Alright. This is the hardest step and the easiest. You’re going to unpackage the catheter and needle- it’s all set up for you. You’re going to use your left hand to hold my arm steady- keep a gentle hold right below the vein. Needle slips into the vein at an angle. You should see blood in the catheter hub. If you don’t see that, it means you missed the vein. Once the needle is in I’ll walk you through the next part.”  Valentino exhaled slowly and gave me a soft look. 

I could see the nervousness in his eyes, as much as he wanted to trust me with this, he was struggling. His eyes on me, I gently held onto his arm with my left hand and with my right, I slid the needle into him. He hissed in pain and looked down at his arm. I watched as droplets of blood began to seep through. Relief washed over his expression.

“Good. On your first try, nonetheless. Push it in just a little bit more- about a centimeter.”

I did as he instructed. He sighed after a moment and his whole body seemed to relax.

“Alright, needle comes out. Just the needle. The blue piece. That’s right. Good. Now grab the catheter and connect it. Right, just like that. Now hand me the tubing, I’ll connect that myself. Thank you, Princessa.” He gave me a tired smile. “Now go. You have work to do and I…I need to sleep.” He closed his eyes, “just…if you have questions ask Vox..or Angel…” 

I watched as his breathing slowed and gave him a kiss on the forehead. I jumped in the shower and checked him one final time before heading out to the elevator. I took a deep breath of my own as I descended into Valentino’s studio. 

“Hey, reader, where’s Val?” Angel asked when I stepped out. He stepped closer to me, almost protectively. “You know he doesn’t like it when you’re here by yourself.”

“Val had an..situation. I’m here today. I’m directing,” I said with forced cheerfulness. 

Angel looked at me blankly and burst out in laughter. “Yer kidding, right? Val wouldn’t let you do that.”

“No really, his script is right here.” I held up the manila file. “He said to call Vox if I had any questions or ask you.” 

Angel paled. “Fuck, Val. Better have been some emergency. Alright, I guess go take Val’s seat.” 

I slowly took my place in his chair and surveyed the scene. Actors scattered about, reviewing their own copies of the script. 

Angel stood next to me, his pink robe halfway off. 

“Ya gotta tell em, reader, where you want em. Just look at Val’s copy of the script.” He sauntered across the stage and placed his hands on his hips. “Hey! Listen! Val’s out, readers takein his place. Better listen to her cause if Val gets a bad report…” he paused and swallowed, “it won’t be great.”  He gave me a nod. 

“Alright, places people! Let’s take this from the top!” I said as loudly as I could.

Angel shook his head at me and his a smile. “Reader, ya gonna have to yell. Be loud.” 

“Alright! Let’s take this shit from the top!” I yelled as loudly as I could. 

“Dat’s bettar,” Angel muttered just loud enough for me to hear. He shook off his robe and sprawled his body across the bed. 

“And action!” 

Six hours later I had in my hand what very much resembled something Valentino would have created. Valentino’s imp, Darren, assured me that with a few clips, edits and highlights he would be able to hand Valentino something that was, well, in his words, incredibly impressive for a first time porn director. 

I kicked off my red high heels and peeked into Valentino’s room. He was asleep on the bed, cuddled under a mound of blankets. The IV I had put in that morning was still in his arm, but the line was disconnected. I pressed my hand to his forehead and gently pulled back the blankets. Burning up wasn’t the right descriptor- the man was on fire. 

“Val? It’s me. You have to get up, you’re really hot.” I said to him. 

“That’s nice of you to say, but I have someone.” He muttered back sleepily. “And she’s the prettiest girl in the world.” 

Fuck. 

I dialed Vox’s number as fast as I could. To his credit, he picked up on the first ring. 

“Yealo. What’s up?” 

“Val, he's sick.” I filled him in as quickly as I could. Midway through my rambling, the line went dead and Vox appeared in the room. 

I stared at him. 

“How did you…”

“I travel through the cameras, have you seriously never noticed? Alright, what has you so worked up?” 

I gestured to the bed. “Val! He’s sick or hurt or dying or…” I twisted the wedding band on my finger.

“Take a breath. Demons can’t die from disease but we do get sick. All part of the eternal punishment thing.” Vox said calmly. He walked over to Valentino and pressed a hand against him. “Oh yikes. Come on Val, get up. We gotta get you cooled down.” He looked at me, “to clarify, we can’t die but we can get seriously hurt and recovery from anything is a bitch and a half. Look, I’m going to get him into a cold shower. You go downstairs and tell the nurse on duty to read her email and send up everything on the list.”

“Don’t we need a doctor?” I asked desperately.

Vox shook his head, “nah. Not for something like this. Now go. Don’t rush but don’t take your time either.” 

I watched him hoist up Valentino as if he weighed nothing. Behind him, the bathroom door slammed shut. I turned to walk out the door as housekeeping scuttled in. Probably to change the bedding- my Dad always did that when I was sick. That and soup. An idea began to form. I stepped back inside. 

“Uhm, excuse me.” 

The imp looked at me with a bothered expression. “Yeah, Princess? Something I can help with?”

Hey, can you bring up some ingredients within the next half hour or hour? I want to make-“

“Yeah, yeah. Leave a list on the kitchen table. We’ll bring it right up,” the imp answered hastily as she began to strip the bed. 

I walked out to the kitchen and grabbed a pen and paper. The recipe Dad made me after I got sick was simple. Salt, pepper, chicken stock, marjoram, Italian seasoning, fresh broccoli, onion, garlic, tiny pasta O’s. But if he felt a cold coming on or caught wind that I didn’t feel so great, he made garlic soup- garlic, potatoes, butter, olive oil, salt and pepper, dry white wine to deglaze, chicken stock, bay leaf, fresh bread to drizzle with olive oil and toast, marjoram, Parmesan cheese and fresh parsley. I felt a pang of sadness as I scribbled out the ingredients for both soups. He definitely wasn’t the best Dad, but he taught me more than I realized.

Pushing my emotions from my mind, I left the list on the table and hurried back down the elevator for the third time that day. I got the things I needed from the nurse on duty and by the time I stepped back into the apartment, everything I had asked for was on the kitchen table. 

I gave Vox the bag and he shooed me away. 

“Trust me, you’re not going to want to see Val like this anymore than you already have,” he said as his eye swirled. 

With that in mind, I set forth to the kitchen. I pulled out two large cast iron pots, preheated the oven,and set to work. Starting with the fresh ingredients, I chopped up everything I would need and sautéed in one pot the broccoli, onion, and a few cloves of garlic with salt, pepper and Italian seasoning. In the other, I sauteed two heads of garlic, onion, potato, salt, pepper and marjoram. Once the ingredients looked tender, I deglazed the garlic soup with white wine and added chicken stock. To the broccoli soup, I added a carton of chicken and two cups of water. While both simmered partially covered, I sliced up the bread and tossed it with olive oil. I spread the bread out on a parchment paper lined cookie sheet and tossed it into the oven. 

“What are you making?” Velvette’s voice came from behind me. “You never cook.”

I jumped and turned around. “Soup. My dad used to make it when I was sick or this one before we got sick and it helps I promise.” 

She gave me a smile. “Well, I mean. Can’t hurt. Vox is in with him, he’ll be out soon I’m sure.”

She perched herself up on the counter as I stirred the croutons and pulled them out of the oven. I added the pasta rings to the broccoli soup and turned down the heat. I spooned a bowl of the garlic soup, added the warm croutons and topped it with Parmesan cheese before handing the bowl and a spoon to Velvette. 

She took a bite and a grin broke across her face. “I wasn’t expecting this to be good.”

“Rude.” 

“Woah, something smells good. Whatcha making Vel?” Vox asked as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Not me this time, it’s reader. Soup. Says it will keep us from getting sick and help Valentino feel better.” Velvette answered. 

I turned around from where I was labeling the garlic soup into bowls. “Yes, and you’ll eat every bite. You can have both but really, the garlic soup is what will keep you healthy.” 

Vox grimaced. “Garlic soup? That sounds awful.” He walked over to Velvette and gave her a peck on the cheek. 

“No, it’s good actually. And you know how picky I am.” She took a spoonful and pressed it to Vox’s lips. “Open.”

He gave me a sideways glance but accepted.

“Woah, not what I was expecting. That is good. Here, hand me a bowl.” He bopped over and made himself a bowl, taking a seat at the kitchen table. 

I rolled my eyes but stirred the broccoli soup. “How’s Val?” 

Vox swallowed his bite. “I got him in a cold shower and got his internal temperature under control, and hooked up a fresh bag of fluids, anti nausea medication and a fever reducer. He should feel a little better in a few hours, but he’ll be down for probably the next day or so.” 

“I’m going to see if I can get some soup into him,” I said, spooning a small coffee mug of broccoli soup. I added cheese to the top and a little olive oil, and took two un toasted slices of bread on the side of the plate- just in case. 

“I mean, good luck with that and don’t be offended if he shoos you away. That man is a nightmare most of the time but when he’s sick, oooh boy it’s a thousand times worse.” Vox cautioned as he stood up and added more soup to his bowl. “But this is delicious. I’m trying the broccoli one next.”

“Suit yourself, I can always make more,” I replied, adding everything to a small try, along with a bottle of cold water. I made my way down the hallways to his room and pushed open the door. 

“Val?” I asked cautiously, “are you awake?”

“I am, Princessa,” Val’s voice was quiet, even for me. The tv across from the bed played softly and he was propped up against the pillows. Off to the side was an oxygen mask. A flash of fear. I hadn't realized he was that sick. 

“Princessa, you won’t hurt me. Though I caution against coming too close, I don’t want you getting sick.” He saw my gaze to the mask and he rolled his eyes, “Vox made me do a nebulizer. Helps break down the stuff in my chest. Relax, muñeca. I’m fine.” His eyes fell to the tray I carried, “what have you brought me, cariño?” 

I set the tray down on the bedside table and sat next to him on the bed. I reached and pressed my hand to his forehead. He felt cool, much cooler than he had less than an hour earlier. 

“See, Princessa? I am fine.” He said soothingly. He broke into a coughing fit and grimaced. 

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, fine. Think you can eat something?” 

He shrugged, “I’ll try. Can’t promise it will stay down though.” 

“We’ll go slow.” I said as gently as I could. I put the smallest amount of broth onto the spoon and pressed it to his lips. “Open.”

He gave me a humored smile but opened his mouth.

“Mmm. It’s delicious. I can do it myself.” he said after about five spoonfuls. “You’re going too slow.”

“No, I’m pacing you. Otherwise you’ll eat it all and get sick.” I told him firmly. “Patience. My Dad never let me gulp anything down when I was sick.”

He rolled his eyes, but a few more spoonfuls later, I proved my point. 

“Alright, no more,” he said, leaning back and closing his eyes. “I’m going to go back to sleep.” 

I kissed his forehead. “Alright, love. Be back later.” 

“Reader?” Val’s voice came softly from across the room.

I turned around, “yes?”

“I love you. Thanks for…taking care of me.”

“Always, Valentino. That's what you do when you love someone."

[p-taryn-dactyl]

dudeeee ik ur reqs are open so why not give this a shot and see what u think abt it! since the new agatha trailer came out I CANNOT STOP THINKING ABT HERRRJDID!! so this is abt her! (plus love ur agatha content!! ive read all of em ALL OF EM)

so.. what abt a AU where agatha is the reader's manager and the reader is a famous actor? this could lead to a dark fic or just a wholesome light one! whichever u prefer ill leave it up to u!

~p.s i hope ur feeling better!! have a nice day and feel free to ignore this if u want to^^

a/n: first off, i love ur energy so much omg, and also SAME! the trailer goes through my mind 24/7 and i’m not mad about it! ooooo i love this idea!! definitely have to take creative liberties bc i’ve sadly never been famous😔 word count: 2.6k warning(s): fun fact: i am making all of these things up, if you're secretly an actor keep everything i did wrong in this fic to yourself - slight jealous!Agatha - friends to coworkers to lovers - agatha definitely knows how to communicate - all movies and characters mentioned in this are worlds/stories i have written- kinda rushed ending but then again i feel like everything is rushed - i really hope you like this! thank you so much for the ask and i am feeling a bit better 🫶🏻 - i really can't write kissing my apologies

i was the saint, you used to adore me

You remember when you first hired Agatha.

You were just beginning to dip your toes into the pool of acting, cautiously testing the waters by sending out your less than perfect resume to anyone who would accept. Agatha was the first, and only, acting manager to respond. She too was new to her field, so far only representing people who specialized in car commercials and medicine ads. She wanted a change of pace and your lack luster resume spoke to her. Some part of you still wanders why she picked to represent you, even though in the end everything worked out incredibly well, you wanted to know why she wanted to work with you.

Because now it seemed like she wanted nothing to do with you.

At the beginning, it was like the two of you couldn't be seperated. Outside of work hours, many movie nights happened, sometimes an excuse for Agatha to show you her favorite directing and acting techniques, sometimes an excuse for you to binge watch Sandra Bullock's entire cinematography. You would fill her inbox with emails of dream roles, she would fill yours with links to acting classes if the number of emails in her inbox from you exceeded 1,000.

She was your best friend.

You missed her.

If you had to pinpoint the time when she started drifting away, it was right after you landed your breakout role of Aerin Fey in the movie Pillars, which became a boxoffice hit, making nearly three times the production cost in theaters. Soon, your portrayal of the multiversal anti hero was on billboards, had sequels and contracts signed, had custom dolls on toy store shelves. It was everything you wanted, seeing little girls inspired by you as you either walked down a red carpet or passed them in the grocery store. You loved signing autographs in the signature Agatha and you spent nights perfecting. You loved taking pictures with fans, almost equally as excited as they were, after all your dream was coming true.

All you wanted was to share these moments with your closest friend but soon Agatha started only filling the manager role in your life. No longer did she appear at your door bearing tubs of ice cream to celebrate a role you had been offered, no longer did she let you cry when you lost a role you had been desperate for. Your texts and emails became dry, only notifying you of roles she had sent your portfolio in for or sending you calender invites for interviews and late night show appearances.

All this was swirling in your head as you scrolled through your old texts with Agatha, your eyes becoming watery as you went further into the messages. You sat in your living room on your large couch, a purchase Agatha practically had to force you to confirm. You still didn't understand why you needed such a large couch or house for that matter, as you were the only one living in the space. It was damn comfortable though. You let yourself sink into the cushions, your mind running wild with theories as to why Agatha suddenly cut your friendship off. Sure, you two would keep a professional appearance when seen together on the carpet but you were absolutely certain people noticed the tense atmosphere between you.

"Bitch if you don't answer this door right now I'm going to assume you're dead and call every TMZ reporter here!"

The voice of your co-star turned friend Wanda Maximoff interupted your self pity episode, making you realize that the pounding you had subconsciously been hearing wasn't a sad theme song your mind created for you. No, it was the furious knocking of the red head. You reluctantly got out of your comfy spot, slightly taking Wanda's threat seriously. You opened your door, revealing your friend holding a folder with Pillar's studio name printed on the side and a bottle of champagne. You nodded to the bottle.

"Where's the rest?"

Wanda laughed, nudging her way into your home, bumping your shoulder with hers.

"Oh so it's that kind of day."

Wanda took her place on your couch, setting the bottle on the coffee table and crossing her legs with the folder in her lap. She patted the spot next to her on your couch, a smile wide on her face.

"Now come on, we have to make sure we know the answers to questions and what not to answer!"

You groaned at the reminder of your TV appearance tomorrow. Which also meant enduring the new cold demeanor of your be-manager. Wanda seemed to read your face as you made your way to sit back on the couch. She patted your knee once you were sat, her face a mix of pity and a bit of anger for your sadness.

"Is Agatha still acting weird?"

You nodded while staying silent, not wanting to cry in front of one of your only real friends. Not yet at least.

"God that's so stupid honestly. The least she could do is tell you what's going on instead of acting like a fourth grader who's favorite swing is being used during recess. I know you love her Y/N, I'm sorry."

You both laughed and choked at Wanda's words.

She was right, you loved Agatha. You've loved her since the first time you met her and your feelings only grew and intensified as your partnership continued throughout the years.

But you'd never say it outloud. That would make it real. And if it was real, that meant the woman you loved hated you and you had no idea why.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Agatha was leaning against the wall of your dressing room, her eyes glued to her phone as she typed furiously. You watched her in the mirror as your hair stylist put the finishing touches on the style that was supposed to look effortless. Almost as if she could feel your stare, Agatha looked up from her phone to meet your eyes in the mirror. You felt heat rise up to your cheeks as your own eyes widened, standing up a little to quickly. Realizing once you were up that you didn't have a reason for such a reaction.

Wanda burst into the dressing room, her red dress sparkling in the light.

"They want us to walk on stage together, shall we?"

Wanda held out her elbow for you to hold on to, winking in an exaggerated way. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Agatha's intense glare at Wanda but decided that you weren't going to let your manager's weird behavior affect this interview. You hooked your arm through Wanda's, playing along.

"We shall!"

Agatha followed behind the two of you, her stare burning into the back of your neck as the two of you walked onto the stage, cuing the raging applause and cheers from the audience. Agatha stayed off-stage, watching with crossed arms and an expression that could take down the toughest of tough.

The lights were burning and bright as you and Wanda took a seat next to each other across from the interviewer. You immediately regretting your choice in seat as Agatha stood across from you in the wings, her stare like ice as it stuck to your skin. Taking a deep breath, you plastered on a wide smile as you were introduced. Purposefully ignoring Agatha, you focused on how the interviewer angeled her body towards Wanda, indictating who she would be asking a question to first.

"Ok, I got to say," Darcy Lewis, the host of this show, threw her hands in the air as if she was giving a confession, "I can't ask any questions about the movie until I get confirmation about something that's happened in your life recently, Wanda."

Wanda smirked, obviously understanding where Darcy was going, You, however, were confused, your eyes flickering between Darcy, Wanda, Agatha, and the audience, hating the feeling. Your smile stayed plastered on, not wanting to reveal your confusion. Wanda met your eyes and reached over to cover your hand with hers, her left hand on top almost purposefully. You looked down to see a beautiful ring with a braided band of gold set with a sparkling diamond of reasonable size.

"Oh my god!" You gasped out, grasping Wanda's hand and bringing it embarassingly close to your face. Wanda and Darcy laughed, the latter clapping as her vague question was answered in a hilarious way.

"I can't believe it's taken you this long to notice!" Wanda laughed out, tugging her hand back to marvel at her ring herself, "I've only been parading it around for a week!"

You flushed with embarassment, a real smile painting your lips as you covered your face with your hands. After the crowd calmed down, Wanda confirmed outloud what the ring symbolized.

"A little over a week ago, my long time partner, who I met on this set by the way, proposed to me in the park we had our first date. Oh, he was so nervous but I couldn't let him finish his speach I was so excited! Obviously I said yes."

You wanted to give your friend a giant hug but decided against climbing over the arms of the chairs, choosing to keep your dignity as you didn't want your dress to ride up too much.

Darcy continued with the interview, the air of the stage light and friendly as you and Wanda evaded questions and made jokes about being trapped in these roles until you're 90. You realized once the interview was almost over that you couldn't feel Agatha's stare on you anymore. Since you had been actively avoiding the spot she was standing in the whole time, you hadn't notice her slip away. A spark of anger lit in your chest as memories floated around your mind. What had you done that she deemed worthy enough to sever your relationship?

You were surprisingly thankful when the interview was over, everything becoming a blur as you made it back home. Wanda had a date with her fiance, Vision but told you that she wanted to get coffee the next morning. You already knew you would be needing that coffee, as you had a few pages of script to begin memorizing for a cameo scene you were doing for a spin-off show of Pillars.

You wanted to just curl up on your couch and binge watch old Disney movies but you forced yourself to walk in circles around your living room, script in hand as you acted out your scenes. A few hours in, you were getting frustrated. Your mind just wouldn't grasp the script, each line entering your mind quickly but leaving even quicker. You were about to learn how to use your fireplace just to burn the papers when your door shook with someone knocking. It was rapid, almost desperate and it sent a sense of urgency pooling in your gut. You practically ran to your door, afraid of what you would see on the other side. Did someone die? Oh god, hopefully Wanda and Vision didn't break up that would be awful-

The door swung open.

It was Agatha.

Her eyes were ablaze with an emotion you couldn't pin point, her hair was a mess but it only added to her beauty, and she was gripping her phone so hard in her hand that her knuckles were white.

You were frozen in the doorway, your eyes wide and your jaw slack. Agatha just stared back at you, her chest heaving as if she had ran all the way to your home. Blinking, you broke yourself from your trance, and against the voices in your head that sounded suspiciously like a specific redhead, stepped to the side to let Agatha in. She barged in, going to stand in front of the couch, arms crossed as she continued to stare at you. Wringing your hands, you decided you wanted to mend what was broken.

"I'm just practicing for the shoot in a week, would you help me? I can't seem to get-"

"Were you ever with Wanda?"

Her sudden question made you choke on your words and you were back to being frozen, the script falling dramatically from your hands. Agatha came to stand in front of you, her face inches from yours. Your tongue was heavy with shock and all you could do was shake your head in denial.

Why was Agatha asking this? Did she like Wanda? That would explain why she wouldn't be happy with you, as you had grown closer to the redhead throughout the years and Agatha didn't.

Something clicked in your mind, reversing your sinking stomach into nervous butterflies.

But if she liked Wanda, why would she be glaring at her? Unless, the person Agatha liked wasn't the now engaged redhead and was-

"Y/N, please, I need you to answer me."

Agatha voice contradicted her body language, her words broken and shaky, as if she was afraid of a potential answer. Her hands flexed in the postition of her crossed arms, as if she wanted to reach towards you. You took a deep breath, preparing your answer.

"Is this why you started avoiding me? Because you thought I was with Wanda? I've only ever been her friend, Agatha and we only grew as close as we are because you stopped talking to me! God, I thought you hated me!"

Agatha's eyes lost their iciness and filled with panic instead. Her hands shot out and grasped your arms.

"Hate? No, I love you! I though the giant annoucment at the interview would be that you were in a relationship with Wanda! I didn't want to ruin your relationship with her because of my feelings!."

You shrugged Agatha's hands off your arms and took a step back.

"So you ruined ours? All because you thought your feelings were unreciprocated?" Agatha's eyes lit up with hope at your words, "Wanda's been with Vision for years, all you had to do was open Google!" You had started to raise your voice towards the end, all your frustration being let out at once. Agatha shrugged sheepishly as she slowly stepped to once again be close to you.

"I didn't want to be right."

Agatha smiled nervously as she brushed a hair from your face.

"I didn't know what to do and I'm terribly sorry for how I acted. God, Y/N, it hurt seeing you with someone who wasn't me. I thought you just wanted to be friends. "

Her whispered apology melted away the ice that had been hardening your heart for protection and you reached up to cup her face in your hands. Agatha leaned into your touch, her eyes closing for a second before opening and almost blinding you with how much hope was shining towards you.

"I loved being your friend and it really hurt me when you took that away but," you smiled at Agatha, shifting to be even closer to your manager, "I would love to be even more."

Agatha smiled softly, her eyes saying everything her words couldn't. Her smile melted into a smirk as she leaned in, your hands falling from her face so your arms could wrap around her neck.

"I would really love to make up for lost time."

You barely had finished nodding before Agatha's lips crashed into yours, consuming you. Her hands now cradled your face as you kissed, her tongue battling with yours. She started walking, directing you towards the stairs, where the door to your bedroom taunted you with it being far. As the two of you stumbled up the stairs, laughter breaking the kiss, you felt Agatha tugging on your dress, the one you still hadn't changed out of. Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and once you hit your bed, from the look in Agatha's eyes, you wouldn't be leaving it anytime soon.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: please tell me u liked this bc i loved writing it :) i love this AU idea and would love to expand on it in the future! i wanted this to be a one shot but the potential in this pairing could lead to a series 👀 thank you so much for reading!! hopefully my writing slump hasn't affected my writing too much but i'm going to keep practicing to get better!!

[fritz-federleicht]

His robe/ Vessel x reader

Summary: your hands are cold during the video shoot to Alkaline, Vessel makes sure you're warm

Words: 840

FLUFF

Fortunately, the shoot takes place late in the evening. That means you could sleep in comfortably and prepare. Not like Vessel. He had to be on set two hours ago, giving instructions and getting ready.

When you arrived on set you were greeted by him, he was under pressure and could only talk to you briefly. Still, he had enough time to steal a kiss from you. After that, he quickly moves on, into a large dark room.

You look around. III and IV didn't show up for the shoot, they aren't in the video after all. They probably prefer to sit at home and play video games together.

Only II apparently couldn't miss it. He wanted to make sure that Vessel is doing well, he tells you as he stands next to you and greets you with a friendly hug.

His eyes are constantly checking the situation, keeping everything under control. A silent observer.

First shots are taken. Vessel sits on a chair, only dim light from the fireplace behind him fills the room. He wears his robe and his closed mask. In each shot his hands move, contort.

Next to you, II nods. "He's doing really well." He whispers so as not to disturb the recording. You agree with him, murmuring.

"Okay Vessel. We'll take a short break." Says the director. Immediately II leaves the place next to you and goes to a person. Probably to discuss some small details.

You look at Vessel who is coming towards you.

"It's going pretty well so far, isn't it?" You ask.

Vessel wraps his arms around you. "It's going perfectly love." You touch his chest, he shivers slightly under your fingertips.

"Wait." His hands settle on yours.

You look up at him. "What?"

"Why are your hands so cold? Are you not feeling well?" He asks you worriedly. He ignores the fact that you are standing at night in an old abandoned house that happens to have no radiators.

He loosens one hand and touches your forehead. "You don't have a fever." He says thoughtfully to himself.

"Stop it. I'm fine." You laugh and push his hand off your forehead. It slides to your cheek. "It's just really cold in here." You look around the old room. Plaster is crumbling off the wall, piling up on the floor. Knocked-over cabinets stand in the corners.

"Why aren't you freezing, anyway? You're wearing a lot less than I am." You push your free hand against his chest.

He doesn't move a bit, ignoring your question and continuing to speak. "Are you sure you're okay?" He cups your face. "I need to know that you're okay?" His mask touches your forehead. His hands roam over your shoulders and clasp your hands. You notice he's trying to warm you with his body heat, through his chest and his hands tightly enclosing yours.

"Honey I'm fine." You assure him.

"Really?"

You nod against his mask. "Yes."

"All right. But go to II. Tell him to give you my other robe, I always carry a second one. Won't need it today anyway." He pushes his mask up slightly so that only his mouth is visible. "It's so big you can probably wrap it around your little body twice. Snuggle into it okay?"

You barely catch what he's saying, instead staring at his exposed lips. The lips that show you every time how deep love can go. The lips that have tasted you in so many places, places where no one has ever kissed you so lovingly. Exactly these lips are now forming into a light smile.

"Baby, please respond." He squeezes your hand, bringing you out of your trance and back into the real world.

"I'll go to him in a minute."

"Good. I don't want you to get sick. And if you do, we'll do it together." He says softly and leans in. He releases your hands and caresses your cheeks. His kiss is short, demanding and affectionate at the same time. He pulls back.

You look at him, flushed. "Ves, I'm not sure that's how it works."

"It does." He asserts, pulling down his mask. "Now go to II. Break's about to end." He turns you around.

You smile and walk toward II, focusing on him so as not to lose him in the throng of people.

You reach him and ask him for the robe. He gives it to you, you put it on. Immediately you feel warm.

During the next break, Vessel comes to you. Before he even speaks to you, he grabs your hands. When he feels that they are warm, he exhales with relief. "That's good... even if I would have liked to spend the whole day in bed with you." He says cheekily.

"We can do that anyway." You grin at him.

"I'll gladly accept that offer, my love." He answers, brings your hand to his mouth and kisses it through the mask.

[homestylehughes]

jack Hughes- noise

noise- jack hughes

summary: where jack is the only noise you ever want to hear.

wc:725

PSAAAA: hiii!!! if you clicked on this story thank you so much!! I'm new to writing on tumblr so I'm still learning!! so pls be nice ( I promise I'll get better) anyways hope you enjoy, let me know what you think below (omfg I'm sorry this is so long I'll stfu now<3)

fic below:

time is moving slowly, each time i look at the clock. time is moving slower and slower. I used to love being alone, i used to love my noiseless life, or the noises that i found simple and easy. like the noise of my ac blowing when doing my homework. or the occasional noise of my favorite records i’d play, and dance too around my apartment at 2 am. now i have a different type of noise in my life, jack hughes. 

if you would have told me a year and half ago, i be waiting to hear noise fill up my life and apartment; i’d tell you you’re crazy. my noise being jack hughes. there’s nights like these where i really want him here, to feel his noise.  

the devils lost to the Sharks tonight 6-3. after coming off a 3 game heater, i knew this loss would be hard for them. for him. i waited for him to call, to hear the noise of his ringtone, for it to ring through my ears. constantly glancing at the clock on my wall, as i see the time ticking by, slower and slower. i just wanted to hear my favorite noise. after most losses, jack didn’t come over. i respected that, i knew he needed space sometimes, and i would always give that too him. but right now i was missing my noise, i wanted nothing more than to grab my keys and head out the door, drive 40 minutes to his place. i wanted nothing more than to call in 15 times, spam him with texts, to let him know that i missed him and that i’m here for him. that i missed his noise.  

the game ended 3 hours ago. i keep looking at the clock, time is still moving slowly. i make my way to my bedroom, throwing on one jacks shirts. i slowly make my way to my bed, a bed that feels cold without him. i close my eyes, and try to think of something that can send me off to sleep. all of my thoughts are about jack, and how much i miss his smile. his laugh. his sassy comments. his kisses, oh god how much i miss his kisses. and most importantly his noise. my thoughts are starting to slowly fade, my eyes start to slowly close. as my eyes flutter close for the last time.

 i hear a pounding at my door, i glance at my clock and the time reads 3:30 am. who’s here at 3:30 am? i slowly make my way through my apartment, turning a light in the hallway, in which i immediately regret. i turn the handle at the door, not knowing who to expect. my mind goes foggy when i see jack standing in my hallway. all my thoughts are immediately consumed by him again. all of my thoughts are consumed by his noise.

“hi” i say, as i look at jack who’s still standing in the hallway outside my apartment. “hi” jack breathes back out to me. our eyes never leave each other. i can’t take the space anymore, i can’t take the silence. i need his noise.

 i pull him into my apartment and slam the door behind us. the next thing i know is jacks body slamming into mine. pulling me into the biggest and tightest hug ive ever received. we stand in my living room of my apartment, embraced in each other arms. no words need to be said between us. i slowly pull apart, too look into his eyes. scanning his face to see any sign of injury, instead all i find is love and calmness.

 i grab his hand and led him into my room. knowing my bed will no longer be cold with him in it. no other words have been exchanged yet, no other words need to be exchanged. we get into bed, and jack quickly pulls me into his flush body.

i can feel his noise. i can hear his noise. the steady sound of his breathing. the sound of his heart beating beneath me. this is all i need. his noise. my favorite noise jack. my jack. i slowly fall asleep to the sound of his noise, and now i'm no longer alone. my noise, my home is back.

[neteyummy]

ITS ME AGAINNNN I LOVE LOVEEE YOUR LAST REQUEST :C ❤️

ever since ive been reading a lot of manhwas and i got an idea form it that id love to read a fic of with neteyam xv

okay so i was thinking of a heart wrenching angst but comfort later on with an arranged engagement of reader and neteyam where neteyam starts to hate reader just because he was basically forced to be with her and reader is always patient eith him even if hes so mean to her like going with other girls or smth and one day reader snaps at his rudeness towards her and says nah lets break up. and at first neteyam is like FINE but he later starts to notice how his daily life that always had you there for him, helping him with whatever, being his maid basically sbfushd and he starts to miss you. starts to realize how much he fucked up becuz he realized how faithful you were to him and worked so so so hard for him and was always there for him :((( but hes too late now bcz he sees you finally giving other men a chance to court you since youre no longer his now ;(

Huhuhu a little request won’t hurt hm?

Warning: Hurt. No comfort yet.

From the day I was born, you and I were promised to each other without a single say in it. While you despised me for it, I felt sympathy for you and did my best to stay out of your way.

His jaw clenched as he observed your face, watching as the words left your mouth. You were both in a healing tent, where you were initially patching up the older man after he had returned with the raid party. Neteyam was being even colder than usual, asking if someone else could patch him up in your stead. That had been your last straw, after all those times, after all those years, of him either pretending like you didn’t exist or disregarding your efforts made for the sake of him.

My whole life, I have been training to become someone worthy to stand beside you, the future Olo’eyktan of our clan. Did I want to though?

You chuckled bitterly, looking down at your folded hands in your lap. You could feel his piercing gaze on your head.

What would it matter if I wanted to or not, right? Just like you had no choice but to accept me as your future mate, I had no choice but to comply to the orders given by your grandmother and my parents. I merely existed to be your Tsahìk.

Looking up from your lap, you met his hardened gaze with his ears pulled back. You felt your stomach tighten.

I did not want this, Neteyam. I did not.

What changed then? He rasped out. You think I didn’t notice all those times you looked at me as if I hung all the stars myself? Don’t think I also didn’t notice you enjoying your training with my grandmother. That says enough for me.

Silence.

You pondered over whether you should deny his claims or admit it. He looked agitated, looking down at you as he stood tall infront of you. You noticed again how much he had physically grown, over the last year. Taut muscles filling up in all the right places and facial features looking a lot sharper now. You looked down again, avoiding his accusing eyes.

You let out a small exhale.

When you spend most of your time by your teacher and have a very limited interaction with opposite genders, you tend to fall for who is most present in your daily life.

With a sad look in your eyes, you matched his gaze again.

You happened to be the only man I am freely allowed to be around, for long. I do not have the privilege of meeting up with other men like you do, with other women, Neteyam.

At that, he pursed his lips. Moving back and forth on his feet as he nodded in a mock understanding.

But you continued.

Falling for you was my biggest mistake, Neteyam. If I had known in all those times you were with other women, being hopeful for a day you would open up to me, see me for who I am and not as someone you are forced to spend the rest of your future with, against your will, that this was all nothing but a wishful thinking, I would have done everything in my will to stop these feelings from growing any further.

Cocking his head to the side, Neteyam let out a laugh, disbelief painting his face. He had stopped footing around and was now standing infront of you again. Same pursed lips as he squinted down at you in a mean look.

Save your lies for another day. I know for a fact that you are more than allowed to meet up with other men. We are NOT mated yet. Don’t act like we are. What about your lil friend that always tails you, huh? Forgot about him already?

You watched his expression grow even more sour at the last part he spat. The things he was saying confused you to no end, but hearing him deny your statement of not having the same privilege as him made anger simmer inside you.

Standing up tall in cold fury and looking dead in his eyes, you pushed your index finger at where his heart laid, hidden behind his chest.

I have never once lied in my whole life, that I assure you. But to think you are this ignorant of our betrothal really disappoints me, Neteyam. I know the sight of me upsets your mood and you wish for nothing to do with me. But I had honestly expected more from our future leader.

You paused and took in the expressions written all over his face. It going from an accusing glint in his eyes to the one of a slight shock, finally settling on an unreadable expression.

And in a low voice, he asked you.

What did you want from me.

It sounding more like a statement rather than a question, you cocked your head to the side, watching his eyes trail on the ground.

He had managed to pick up on your little movement, though.

You held me back here with this talk. I’m sure there is a point in bringing this topic up? What do you want from me with this?

A fool you were, to think he would ever be the same understanding man that he is with everyone else. You really hoped that being the one to touch on this topic and to possibly clear the air between the two of you would make some positive change in your dynamic. That you wouldn’t have to resort to your last option.

Biting your lower lips as it started to quiver while tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to pour down. You searched his eyes for any hint of guilt or regret for having been this harsh with you up until the very last moment. When you found none, the tears that were threatening to spill finally broke free. Your heart never having ached this badly before, it was almost suffocating.

I want to break this betrothal.

Tbc here

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

11. The Missing Songbird

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence.

From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

(Y/n) (l/n) lay frozen in that chamber for centuries. Stuck in a dreamland where everything was perfect. He should’ve left her there. She had peace in a sleep filled with dreams that would never come true.

But he was bored. He wanted a life, and a family, and no one was letting her out on their own accord. So why not him? He already knew everything about her. He could praise her and provide a good life for her here in the Vaults.

Henry, now commonly known as Hank MacLean wanders to Vault 31. Searching row after row of frozen chambers until he came across what he was looking for. Posted up in the seat, blue lips, and frosted lashes (y/n) (l/n) lay undisturbed. He smiles, pressing all the needed codes for her release. He injects her with a syringe. Just a little memory wipe to make the process easier on his part. He transports her to Vault 33, setting her up on the metal examination table and hooking an IV into her arm. All he could do was wait. He wouldn’t be so bored anymore with her around.

~

I open my eyes but quickly close them again due to the bright white light. I reach out into the air, my body weak. “Help,” I whisper with the little energy I have in my bones. My throat was dry and my lips were numb. My vision comes soon after the feeling in my fingertips. I look down at myself, seeing a blue suit lined with yellow. I choak out a sob, not entirely sure of why I’m sad. I was so confused. I couldn’t remember anything. The overwhelming feeling of fear taking root.

I look around quickly through tear-soaked eyes. I’m lying on a table, an IV drip in my arm. I start to breathe heavily. Was I sick? Did I pass out? Where was everyone? Where was I?

Who am I?

Then I heard it, “You’re alright. Would you like some help sitting up?” A single voice that calmed the nerves. I looked up to see a man. A small, weak man, with a wide friendly smile, “My name, is Hank. Everything is okay. Do you remember where you were before you fainted? Why you were running?” I stare at him in confusion. I shake my head, covering my eyes. “I… I don’t remember anything.” Hank pressed a smile and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Well, you’re safe now. I’ll grab a tray of food and some water and be right back. You must be starving.” I feel my anxiety rising as he steps away. The fear of being alone again with unanswered questions claws at my brain. “Wait…” I reach for him, this stranger. “Would you stay? Please?” Hanks's smile spreads over his cheeks, “of course I will.”

Day after day Hank would arrive with breakfast, spending the hours of the day teaching me about the Vaults and how the community functions. It sounded like a dream. “I have your file from the Overseer of 31,” Hank excitedly says as he types away on his Pip-Boy. “So soon? I thought you said it would take them a week.” Hank smiles down at his screen. “It has your name.” A smile grows on my face.

A real name. My name! Something factual I could hold onto in this sea of uncertainty. I grab his arm tugging him close, looking down at the screen. I read the name slowly, the information warming my chest. “Melody Richards.” Hank smiles at me, “I think it’s a beautiful name.”

I sit with a grin, content with being Melody. Content with being someone.

“Everyone will love you, Melody,” Hank reassured me as he walked us down the corridor, arm in arm. Vault 33 had put together an entire function just for me. To welcome me into their community.

Life was good. I felt right at home in Vault 33 with Hank. He took care of me. He made sure I was always happy. It was hard for me to believe sadness was still an emotion I could have. We married soon after, and my days were happy. I was assigned to teaching, which I was surprisingly good at. Maybe I was a teacher in my past life. It had been a year and Hank and I were just so happy. The daily routine is memorized by my brain. Every day just like the last. A predictable happy day. Until one individual day when everything changed.

“Girls, is there something you’d like to say,” I ask politely as a group of 3 girls. The bell has rung, and class is over, but yet they remain in their seats. They giggle as they look at me. I feel myself shrink. Was something on my face?

Becca, a 13-year-old girl with long blonde hair smiles at me. “You look just like Mary from that movie we just saw last night. She’s so pretty.” I tilt my head, “I didn’t know I missed movie night! I wish I had known.” The girls jump in excitement, “We’re about to go watch it again! Do you want to come? We need a chaperone anyway.”

It was only 3:00, I didn’t have to make dinner for another hour or so. I could use a little break. I shrug my shoulders, “Sure, why not? Lead the way, girls.”

They skipped down the hall telling me all I needed to know about the film. “So Mary is a singer and she works for this bad guy who owns the club. Bill, the detective is trying to catch the club owner but falls for the singer in the process. He saves her and then she tells him off! And he chases her in the rain! They are so cute! Ugh! I wish I could meet someone like that.”

We take our seats in the theater, waiting for the picture to roll. The screen lights up, and a nightclub scene appears. The picture drifts to a stage where a stunning young woman walks through the curtain. She begins to sing. Her voice swims through the room beautifully. I watch in amazement as she belts the song. I wish I could sing like that.

A man enters to club and is instantly taken by Mary. She sings to him, reaching out. He trails from table to table until he takes a seat in the very front. She walks down sits on his table and finishes her song. The man smiles at her. It warms my chest to see a new love.

I did look similar, but in no way was I more than a resembling face to the old actress.

At the dock Bill pulls her away from gunfire, shielding her in the street. “You have to go, Mary.” She shakes her head, “I told you. I can handle myself.” He turns to her, cups her cheeks, and brings her in close for a passionate kiss. “I know you can, but if you get hurt. I won’t be able to handle myself.” He stroked her cheek lightly.

In such focus, I don’t think twice about the cold ghostly touch on my own cheek. I watch in a trance as they express their feelings. I run my fingertips over my lips, feeling a light tingling. What a reaction! This film was something else. The two actors sold the roles. They acted just like they really loved each other. The film finished and I was hooked.

The next few days I rented every film and every record by (y/n) (l/n). I danced in the kitchen as I made dinner. Spinning around I place the meal into the oven.

Hank walks in, a confused look present. I giggle and grab his hands. “Dance with me.” I hum lightly to the song as I attempt to get him to join. He doesn’t. Instead, he walks over to the radio and turns the record off. I watch him, and an unfamiliar clench in my chest rises. His eyes bore into mine. “Melody, where did you get that?” His stare is lined with a nervous smile. “The library. They’ve started renting out movies and records now.” He nods as he watches me. I return to cooking dinner silently. I turn my head to look at Hank. He reads the back of the record case with furrowed brows.

The cover stands out. She really was beautiful. Clad in a silky red dress, her hair done nicely, and makeup to perfection. “Some of my students said I look like her.” I smile at the thought of being that stunning. Hank looks at me, no expression on his face. “I don’t see it.” He gathers up the films and records into a pile. “I’m not a big fan of this type of thing. You’re so much better, Melody. I don’t want you to get a complex." Hank exits the vault without another word.

The right thing to do would be to listen to him. he was my husband and the voice of reason in the dynamic. However, I can hear someone. Someone deep down calling out. Begging me to sing those songs. I lay in the bed staring blankly at the wall. Someone won’t let me rest. Someone is clawing at my skin from the inside out begging to escape. I look at Hank. The man I had come to know seemed like a stranger. Such an out-of-character act for him. He loved music, any type.

I feel the haunting pull. Forcing me to get out of bed and slowly creep down the illuminated hall. I wonder, feeling my feet carry their way. I stop at the doors to the theater. The invisible tug pulls me into the room. The only light was upon the stage. A ghostly smile grows on my face as I advance to the stage. I stand on the elevated wooden floor, looking out over the rows of seats.

I can’t explain why or how, but I began to sing. A song I had never known or heard begins rolling out of my mouth. Emotion taking over my body. This lost soul pulling their way to the light.

“I can hear you but I won't

Some look for trouble while others don't

There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day

And ignore your whispers, which I wish would go away”

I see the mist of a figure seated in the middle. His eyes are bright and his smile is wide. He feels so familiar. Something inside myself was wrong. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a singer. I wasn’t a performer.

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear

And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear

Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls

I'm sorry, secret siren but I'm blocking out your calls

I've had my adventure, I don't need something new

I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you”

The figure is closer now, allowing the light to bleed into their frame. He stands from his seat, taking slow steps towards the stage. I fall to my keens awaiting him. It was the only thing that felt right.

“What do you want? 'Cause you've been keeping me awake

Are you here to distract me so I make a big mistake?

Or are you someone out there who's a little bit like me?

Who knows deep down I'm not where I'm meant to be?”

It’s him. The man from the films. He pulls himself onto the stage, cupping my face in his palms. The warmth of his hands has me believing he’s real. He’s here with me.

“Don't you know there's part of me that longs to go

Into the unknown

Into the unknown

Into the unknown”

I cling to him as I sing. His smile couldn’t widen anymore. His eyes dazzling as he watches me. His touch pulled the lost soul to the surface. Pulling her out and tossing Melody inside the cage.

This has been an entire trick. I see my entire past in his orbs. The movie, the secret meetings, the months of sadness, the party, the divorce, the engagement, Barb, and Vault Tech…

I breathe heavily as I finish the song. I stare at my hands I allow a tearful laugh to escape. I'm back... I'm me... The heavy weight of the unknown universe is gone.

It's just Cooper and I. I look up expecting to see him, but I'm alone. "Cooper?" I call out only to be met with my echo. The doors in the back open swiftly. I smile watching his figure walk down the dark path.

"Cooper." I go to run into his arms, but I stop at the sound of the voice, "You just couldn't leave it alone. Could you?" Hank advances the stage, stalking me with his eyes. "Henry." I back away with each step he takes.

"Where is he?" He shrugs, "Probably dead." He extends a hand, "Why don't you just come back with me? We have a good life." I shake my head, my back hitting the lush red curtains. "You tricked me!" Henry tosses his head back with a dark laugh. "I saved YOU!"

He lunged at me, grabbing my frame in his grasp. I scream as I struggle against him. "No!" I kick against him, "I'm not going back!" Tears fall from my eyes, "COOPER!" I ball as I violently thrash against Henry. He pulls out a syringe from his pocket. Shaking his head he holds me down. "I've got an idea on how to make you more... compliant." He stabs the needle into my neck. Second after second, I feel my limbs weaken. I fought to keep my eyes open, but I lost. Falling into my death that was disguised as a restful slumber.

~

Hank MacLean buzzed around the lab, watching the machine craft such a perfect specimen. “She’s beautiful.” He whispers lowly, in shock, he had never seen such an astonishing creation.

Fastened in a tube lay a newly built machine, recreated from past generations, but was lost, until he reconstructed it… reconstruccted her. He recreated her from the ruins she once was. Sitting in the dark storage unit, rotting away in the grave of all the failed experiments and equipment. Where the past had failed the future will succeed.

The young Hank overlooked the newly finished machine. She was sparkly. Her skin was smooth, her lashes long, her cheeks the color of rose, her lips plump, makeup drew on to perfection. She looked just like she did in the movies.

With one finger he types a single code into the computer system with haste. As the shield opens fog rolls out of the tube, kissing the floor. Her eyes open, knitting her brows together. A calmness washed over her. She steps out of the chamber completely nude. She smiles at the small madman. “Hi there, I’m, Melody. How can I be of assistance, Mr. MacLean?”

She was easier to… control. Hank had an easy life in the vaults, mostly because his synthetic humanoid wife listened to his every command without question She cooked his favorite meals, and cleaned until the home was spic can span. She was the perfect wife. What else could he want?

Short answer? He wanted Rose. One of the newcomers in a trade with Vault 32. He had become obsessed with her. Her beauty was impeccable. Not fake like Melody’s drawn-on liner. She was the sweetest creature he had ever come to know. Rose was made for him. Unlike Melody who Hank crafted to fit his narrative. However, this had to be fate. No one had made his heart beat like Rose. That night as he returned home for dinner. He had a plan. One final act and he would be free to woo Rose. To have and to hold her forever. He just had to get rid of Melody first.

He hauled her mechanical body to the top floor, disposing of her and all of the remaining items. Her belongings, movies, albums, clothes. Anything Hank had hidden away to shield the truth from her. It worked for some time. He wanted more. He had the perfect wife, but he wanted real raw emotions. Yes, she has a real brain and a heart, but it never truly belonged to him. She would forever feel the attachment to the old actor long gone with the land.

He set everything down with a huff. He took one glance at her cold emotionless face before looking down at his wrist to input the codes. The codes to shut her off, to put her to death once and for all.

Just as he brings his finger down to hit the last number, his finger curls around his hand, and forcefully turns it upwards. The synthetic copy of (y/n) holds Hanks's wrist with a bone-crushing grip. She leans in, dark eyes as she bends his wrist to look at the screen.

“You were going to shut me off?” She twitches her head. An internal battle raged in her mind. Two lives battle for dominance, but clash together in a confusing mixture. Hank yelps as he tries to hit the last number, but she is faster. She quickly breaks his other wrist. He screams in agony, glaring at her. “You bitch!” He grits his teeth as he tries to grab ahold of her. She kicks him in the face knocking him out cold.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

Get the box and go.

She twitches as she grabs the box in her hands.

Run.

Run.

RUN!

The internal voice screams the commands. She swiftly opens the vault door, the sunlight shining in blinding her. She doesn’t look back at the sorry excuse of the man who had created such a machine. She left in search of something unknown.

[quigzahhutt]

mpreg (does that count as a kink?? im counting it) and sargebon bc its all ive been thinking abt lately but i cant express it well enough to write it and i know you will do it justice

mpreg and/or breeding is a popular request today ... and i am not complaining :)

sargebon mpreg smut (kind of?) read at ur own risk, u have been warned

The first press of Alex's cock into Logan's hole is unbelievable; they've done this countless times before, but knowing it's different this time is... overwhelming.

Logan had pulled him aside a few months ago, slid his left hand into Alex's right, and the cold metal of his wedding ring against Alex's fingers where they were laced together was dizzying; it still is, honestly.

It still feels like a dream to think about– the fact that they're married and living together in a ritzy flat in Monaco. They're officially an item, no longer just a couple, a pair of adults who don't know what they're doing, teammates.

And as he was stuck in an emotional haze, caught up in the touchy feelings of having a husband, Logan had asked about having kids, and Alex suddenly felt like he was back in F1, taking an ice bath in a silly inflatable pool, practically naked in front of four different cameras. Completely and utterly out of his depth.

They had a conversation about it– numerous conversations, actually, long ones about the logistics, the realities and fantasies of it all, before eventually coming to a mutual conclusion.

And now here they are, tender bodies tucked against each other, filling the gaps and missing places of the other person, skin touching skin as the sun sets out the window.

Although, it is overcast out, so the sunset isn't anything special, but it feels like... like Alex knows they don't need it for this to be significant, that this is special all on its own even if the sky outside is an ugly color.

The warmth of Logan's hole is suffocating without a condom; Alex almost feels like he can't move or else he might hurt himself, that he might pull out and find the head of his cock charred and burnt.

"Alex- move," Logan gasps out, wrapping his legs around Alex's torso and fucking himself back on his cock.

It works, and Alex is pulling out and thrusting back in like it's his first time ever doing it; the movement is choppy, and it punches a groan from his chest, something that steals all his breath and leaves him heaving.

Logan isn't any better off; he's breathing just as heavily, and his fingers are digging into Alex's shoulders like he thinks he might disappear, leaving behind an crescent indentation of his fingernails.

"You okay down there?" Alex huffs, the end of his sentence swerving off into a breathless chuckle as he rests his forehead against Logan's, and the smile he gets in return is something he wishes he could tattoo on his brain for the rest of his life.

Because it's absolutely beaming, full of teeth, and lazy, and it's the most relaxed Logan has looked in years.

"More than. How couldn't I be when you're about to knock me up?" Logan says, still smiling with ease.

And he says it so naturally and it feels like a punch to the gut; the realization that Logan is made for this, made to be with Alex, made to be his, made to be pregnant and a mother and its all so overwhelming.

Alex has to tuck his face into Logan's neck because he feels like if he looks into his eyes any longer he might burst into flames, or maybe say something stupid and ridiculous that would definitely kill the mood immediately.

Instead, he steels himself, hikes Logan's legs up higher against his hips and then plants his arms on either side of his head.

"Are you ready?" Alex asks breathlessly, drunk on joy and a brand new feeling blooming in his chest, something he's never felt before.

And Logan just looks up at him, the skin around his eyes crinkled in the way that he loves oh so much, and the expression on his face tells Alex everything he needs to know.

this prompt completely ran away from me I'm so sorry if this isn't what u were looking for anon😭😭

[mcl602023]

summary: y/n and drew break up and she writes a song about him what will his reaction be?

⏳-angst/sad.

warnings? not really apart from crying and arguing.

i recommend listening to the song whilst reading!!!!

who do i call now?

4 months ago.

still in the blue say that i miss you silence.

i sit on my bed staring at nothing. i feel empty like ive been used and like i was never anything but a place holder.

sit on my phone tryna refrain from dialling.

looking at his contact on my phone. i still haven't changed his name or his picture.

wondering do i call? or do i leave him alone?

say when we're good then we're good when we're bad we're a disaster.

(flashback)

were sat here laughing over a joke about something silly he heard earlier whilst he was at set "god i love you" he says making my stomach erupt into butterfly's

"i love you so much more" i reply kissing his cheek.

(...)

2 hours later.

"god your so insecure it's actually a joke!"he screams at me.

i feel the tears filling up my eyes blurring my vision.

"it's not my fault okay? you know what i've been through im sorry"i shout back with a wobbly and shaky voice.

he scoffs rubbing his hands over his face.

"it's honestly pathetic you really think there's something going on with me and her?"he questions with anger written all over his face and venom in his words.

"well it's a little bit hard not to overthink it when your hand is on her ass!"i spit back.

make out, slam the door then text you right after.

he walks up to me grabbing my face in his hands and giving me a harsh kiss before walking over to the door opening it and slamming it shut as he walks out.

drew💗

__________________________________

i'm sorry, come home x

read 16:21.

__________________________________

i don't miss the drama but god i miss your laughter.

(end of flashback)

present day.

drew's pov.

"guys quick she's on stage in a minute!" i hear madelyn shout from hers and chases living room.

jesus why am i even here i think to myself sitting down on the couch.

just then the tv presenter starts speaking.

"please welcome to the stage y/n y/l/n!."

she appears on the screen looking beautiful. she's dyed her hair y/h/c and is now y/h/l.

and oh my god does she look so good in the outfit she's wearing.

austin shushes everyone as y/n begins singing.

"so who do i call now? i'd give it all now just to be fighting in the kitchen hearing the crash of broken dishes."

i start to get flashbacks of us arguing and me smashing dishes when everything got too much.

"thought it was bad then this heartache is hellbent id fall asleep to the television drown out the sound of your voice missing."

"now i'd do anything for you to yell at me."

"she looks heartbroken. why did i do this to her?" i silently question myself.

(flashback)

y/ns pov.

you left so quietly

but your silence is deafening.

i wake up the morning after another big argument with drew.

i reach over and pat the bed expecting his warmth to be there.

but there's nothing? he was in bed when i came back home though?

where is he?

i brush of the negative feeling in my gut that tells me something isn't right.

i walk out of our shared bedroom and begin to make myself coffee when i notice nearly all of his belongings are gone.

what the fuck?

i notice a note left on the coffee table.

"y/n im sorry but i need to focus on myself and i cannot do that if i am with you.i love you and im sorry it ended like this -drew."

(end of flashback)

drew's pov.

"hung by a thread sometimes i wish you'd cut it hit me so low then act like your so above it"

i can feel the intense stares of my friends but my focus remains on y/n as she sings i can see small tears falling down her beautiful face that you wouldn't notice unless you were actually looking.

"see when we're high we're so high then we crash and we shatter and make out like we're fine and fall back into old patterns"

"i don't miss the drama but god i miss your laughter"

"bro you messed up" i hear jd saying while slightly shaking his head.

"i know okay you don't have to tell me"i reply with a tear running across my cheek.

i zone out while she's singing a verse but eventually come back into reality when i hear the beat fasten up and get bassiser.

"i always come back like a sickness built the antibodies up get you out my system the audacity to call yourself the victim kick me down say it's not malicious"

"you use it all against me when i tell you things or even worse your not listening i used to go to you for everything"

i remember all the times she showed up at my doorstep before we moved in together crying about a minor thing that she didn't really need to be crying over.

"so who do i, who do i call now?".

And just like that the songs over and the crowd is cheering.

“i'd just like to thank you all for listening to this song tonight it means the world to finally be able to perform this for you"

she begins speaking and just hearing her voice is enough to have a few more tears stream down my face.

"i love you all thank you for tonight, goodnight!"

she shouts into the mic before running off stage.

what have i done?

my sweet beautiful y/n. i miss the way after every argument you'd still have a glimmer of hope in your eyes. i miss the way your eyes would sparkle with joy and happiness.

i took that from you.

i'm so sorry angel.

i will forever regret my mistake.

______________________________________

a/n: okay so this is my first time writing an imagine and idk this feels so cringe 😭