#ok anyways blurb over. thanks again !

[buttelf]

this is a comic based on a sonadow drabble written by (and a gift for) @viacursecasting​ :) 

this was my first time making a comic and im still learning how to draw sonic and shadow consistently, so pls forgive that :) thank you to viacursecasting for letting me post this! enjoy!

[joeys-babe]

Joey B blurbs: Isn’t She Lovely

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Summary: Joe brings the twins with him to one of his press conferences, but all Miles seems to want is ‘Momma’.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

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*No particular date for this fic!*

(Joe’s pov)

“Joe, my mom’s calling. Can you take the boys with you?” - you

“To my conference??” - Joe

y/n, Tyson, and Miles came over to Paycor today to watch us practice.

Afterward, I and a couple of the other guys stayed back to play football with the kids. The guys made a few jokes after Tyson successfully threw a spiral at two years old. I thought it was accidental, but Ja’marr and Tee swore it was the ‘Burrow gene’.

Now that almost everyone had left the stadium, y/n and the twins were allowed to come into the locker room with me.

y/n got on to me about how messy my locker was. I told her it was fine, but Tee made a ‘Happy wife, happy life’ joke saying I should clean it.

In the end, I knew I would end up doing it anyway to please her because that woman had me wrapped around her finger. She has since high school.

Currently, I was just about to step into the media room when y/n came rushing up to me, the twins behind her, saying that her mom sent a text saying call me ASAP.

Zac had just walked out from his conference, and he heard our conversation.

“You’re allowed to take ‘em in if you want to. I know you would rather be with them than have someone else watch them.” - Zac

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” - Joe

“No problem, kid.” - Zac walked off

y/n stood in front of me, her phone still ringing, and I made a split-second decision.

“Go ahead, I’ll take ‘em, baby.” - Joe

“Thank you, you're the best, Joe.” - you

She looked around to see if anyone was present, and when there wasn't anyone, she pressed a quick peck to my lips.

I watched her speedwalk down the hall toward the women's bathroom to have some privacy, and I bent down to the twin's level.

“You guys have to go in there with me for my press conference, okay? You know those videos you watch of me with Mommy where the people ask me questions?” - Joe

“Yeh!” - Tyson

“You guys are gonna sit on my lap for one, okay? If you wanna leave at any point tell me.” - Joe

“Ok, Dada.” - Tyson

“What about you Miles? Sound good?” - Joe

“Sound great, Daddy.” - Miles

I stood up and picked them both up, one in each arm, and walked into the media room.

It was kinda funny watching the reporter’s faces turn to shock. They knew I was a reserved, closed-off person, and that I hated the media, so for me to bring my kids in here was surprising to them.

Pulling my chair out, I sat down and situated the boys on my lap. One sat on each leg.

Tyson laid his head on my shoulder while Miles was looking around, trying to figure everything out.

“How’s it goin’.” - Joe

Everything was silent.

“What’s this?” - Reporter 1

“A one-time thing.” - Joe chuckled

Everyone in the room laughed before a reporter spoke up.

“Who are these cuties?” - Reporter 2

“They're my two-year-old twins. Wanna say your names?” - Joe

I almost laughed as Miles immediately lept forward and grabbed the mic.

“I’m Miles.” - Miles

His voice was super loud in the speakers from how close he was to the mic, and I couldn't help but bust out laughing.

Eventually, I pulled Miles back into my lap and nudged Tyson. He silently shook his head.

“This is Tyson. He's my little mini-me and doesn't like the media like his daddy.” - Joe

The room laughed again before I continued talking.

“You guys can interact with the boys for a little bit but I'm here to talk football.” - Joe

For the first time since I walked in, the room fell silent, till Miles spoke up.

“Momma!” - Miles

“Someone wants his momma.” - Reporter 3 laughed

“Yeah. She’s on the phone, which is why I had to bring ‘em in here.” - Joe

“Momma?” - Miles looked up at Joe

“She’s on the phone, buddy. If you guys can't already tell, he's a momma’s boy. He’s more like her than me personality-wise.” - Joe

“So he’s social?” - Reporter 2 jokes

I laughed as I nodded my head, finding his dig at me to be funny.

“Momma!” - Miles whined

“Guys, excuse me, but I'm probably gonna have to call my wife.” - Joe

This was the most unorganized thing I've ever done.

Pulling my phone out to call y/n, she answered pretty fast.

“Hello? Are you still in your conference?” - you

“Yes, but can you come get Miles? He wants you like bad.” - Joe

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ll be right there.” - you

“Okay, good. See you in a sec.” - Joe

“I won't say I love you, so you don't have to say it back. I know you don't want that being picked up on the mic.” - you laughed

“I love you too, bye.” - Joe smiled

“What?!” - you

I hung up just after that, not caring that I said it right into the mic.

“She’s coming to get this one.” - Joe

I nodded at Miles, then realized he was waving directly at a female reporter.

Just a few seconds went by before the media room door opened and y/n walked in.

She looked at me, unsure of what to do, so I flicked my head telling her to come in my direction.

y/n walked up the platform steps and took Miles from my lap, who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Do you wanna go with Momma too?” - Joe

Tyson shook his head no and sat up, now facing the room of seated reporters.

I leaned the mic away from my mouth and whispered to y/n.

“Thanks, Mama. You look beautiful by the way. I'll see you after this is over.” - Joe grinned

She grinned at me, her cheeks flushing as she situated Miles on her hip before waking away.

When I faced the reporters and fixed the mic back to point toward my face, they all had smiles on their faces.

“Did… did you guys hear that?” - Joe

All at once they all said yes, yeah, mhm, yup.

My cheeks turned red from embarrassment, this was an absolute trainwreck.

“So… Tyson, what can you tell us about your daddy? What does he do at home?” - Reporter 3

“Uhm…” - Tyson sighed

All of the reporters laughed, finding it so funny that Tyson just pulled something so characteristically me.

“He is just like you!” - Reporter 1

“What do I do at home, Ty?” - Joe

“Kiss Mommy.” - Tyson giggled

I immediately groaned and covered my face with my hand. Tyson kept on laughing, and so were the reporters.

“I’m getting exposed right now.” - Joe

“We, Uhm, pway foot…ball.” - Tyson

“We do.” - Joe nodded

“That’s it.” - Tyson blabbered

The room laughed once again till a reporter spoke up.

“So all he does is kiss your mom and play football?” - Reporter 3

“Mhm!” - Tyson

“Pretty accurate, not gonna lie.” - Joe

“Joe, you're pretty smitten with your wife, yeah?” - Reporter 5

“Have been since high school. She’s the best though. The best mom, wife, best friend… and so much more. She keeps me grounded. I know I usually keep my personal life separate from football, but I love her more than anything.” - Joe

“More than football?” - Reporter 2

“More than anything.” - Joe reiterated

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Authors note: though Joe would never do this, let's just imagine he would.

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[thebearer]

rosé flowing with your chosen family | carmen berzatto x reader|

anyways here's a blurb inspired by my lil friendsgiving i hosted and how i think it would be with carmen bc im delusional in my head lolz

"Carm, look at this for me." You frown, turning the bronzed pumpkin at the center of the table.

"Yeah, one sec," Carmen muttered, turning with the pot in his hand, stirring the whipped potatoes vigorously. "What am I looking at?"

"The table." You tilt your head to the side. "Should I just move the pumpkin? It's too much with the candles, right?" You huff, the tapered candles flickering in their brass holders.

"No, baby, looks nice. Leave it. We can move it if it gets too crowded." Carmen hummed, a tiny curl of his lips had your heart swooning. "Need to go get ready. It's six-thirty."

"I just have to put my clothes on." You wave him off, fixing a napkin so it was centered on the plate, each place card in it's assigned place. "Are you sure you don't need help?"

Carmen shot you a look, rolling his eyes playfully. "No, I got it, alright? Go get ready." He shook his head gently, pushing the asparagus around in the pan.

You scurried behind him, pinching his jean clad ass gently, grinning at how he jumped before pressing a kiss to Carmen's cheek that left him blushing.

Your first Friendsgiving hosted at your place. An apartment a little bigger than Carmen's old one, but still cozy and all your own- the two of you. What better way to spend your first holidays together than to invite your friends over?

You were fussing over the glazed carrots on the counter when Sydney arrived, always early. "Hey," She crept in awkwardly into the kitchen, her head poking around the corner. "I, uh, I brought a dessert."

"Wow, that looks amazing." You grin, taking the dish from her, hugging her briefly in greeting. "What is this?"

"It's-"

"-It's a champagne cake with whipped butter cream frosting and a light raspberry spread." Marcus finished, stepping in behind Sydney, balancing a bottle of wine and his coat. "Don't let her take all the credit. I made it."

"Ok, well, I told you to add the raspberry-"

"-Well, I was the one who made it and added it-"

"-Alright." Carmen huffed, his voice edging on the tone he used at work. "Glad you both are here, alright?. The cake looks amazing."

Marcus whistled dramatically, peering over at the food laid out on the counter tops. "Looks good in here, Chef." He grinned.

"Thanks." Carmen muttered, brushing the rolls with butter, checking the oven again.

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" You ask, pulling the fridge open. "I have rosé or wine or anything?"

"I'll take a glass of rosé." Sydney nodded, shedding off her coat and hanging it over the back of the couch.

"Yeah, better get some now." Carmen snorted lightly. "Before Alicia comes."

"I have her a backup bottle." You smirk, pulling out the bottle proudly. "Alicia and I were watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills reunion, right? And she-" The door closed and you turned, your best friend walking in with a huge grin.

"-And she literally brought her own bottle of rosé." You laughed, shaking your head at her.

"I did." Alicia beamed, hugging you tightly. "Carmen, I promise I will not throw up or sob on your couch this time. I'm very stable now." She grinned at Carmen's huff of laughter.

The kitchen was packed, crammed at the table, laughing and swapping stories over the food. Carmen looked at you, the glow of the candles you insisted having to make it feel more homey- they did. How you were grinning, laughing at Fak and Richie bickering, giggling to your own friends and reminiscing.

For once, the holidays didn't feel like a chore. Carmen had been dreading this dinner, not the cooking or the setting up, but having people in his space. He didn't dare say anything, you were too excited and he'd never ruin your glee like that. Still, for him, the holidays were chaotic, everybody tense and scared.

Not here.

Not next to you, surrounded by all your friends.

Carmen finally got why people loved the holidays so much, why it was the most wonderful time of the year and all that. In his tiny apartment, sitting next to the love of his life, your hand holding his gently under the table, thumb swiping over his knuckles, squeezing it lightly when you'd look at him, eyes crinkling in a smile.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

PAINTED WORSHIP Nanami x Prim Princess!Reader

Minors and ageless blogs don't fucking interact

Pairing: Nanami Kento x PrimPrincess!Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1491

Warnings: Slightly jealous!Nanami, Posessive!Nanami, plus size reader, female bodied reader, Marks left, no protection (wrap up kids), Food used as an aphrodaisiac (ice-cream)

Summary: When Gojo gets a little peek down your top, Nanami can't stop hiimself from marking whats his.

A/N: What the hell happened?? I sat down to write this thinking it'd be a cute little blurb net thing i know we're at a thousand plus words??? Anyway i wrote this while cooking okra. such an unsexy scenario please keep in mind when you read lol ok byeeee

sort of pt1 here

Pretty prim princess of the Jujutsu world. No one expects you to leave long scratches down the length of your boyfriend’s back every night. No one expects you to be face down-ass up, shoved into the mattress; Nanami Kento pounding into you from behind. No one expects that you get slapped on your ass every time because he loves watching it jiggle.

Nanami is so careful not to leave visible marks on you. He too has a reputation to maintain after all. The hand print on your bum, the little hickeys that litter your chest – these are meant for his eyes only. It’s unfortunate that Gojo got a little peek though; when you bent over to take a look at what he was trying to show you at his desk, and he turned his head, only to be met by the perfect view down your top. The swell of your décolletage tantalizingly close and the gentle bruises all over your skin standing out in a harsh contrast. 

“I have to go!” He said standing up suddenly. “I—”

Gojo sprinted to the loo, almost crashing into an amused Nanami, leaving a befuddled you wondering what happened.

“Wha–” you started straightening up. 

“I think we better get you some turtlenecks” Nanami said stepping close to you and pulling your neckline higher. You looked down and your eyes widened. 

“Do you think he saw?” you whispered into his chest. 

“Lucky bastard… I have half a mind to gouge out his six eyes” He lays a hand on your chest. As if trying to make sure your top would never again leave your skin and presses a reserved kiss into your hair. “You’re mine. For my eyes only…” 

It was a wonder how Nanami made it through the day when all he could think about was how he needed to leave fresh marks on you tonight. Marks that would not be tainted by some other eyes: only for him. 

His arms encircled you, the minute you stepped into your shared apartment, lips planted on your neck he sucked at your skin. Your knees buckled and Nanami held you up, knowing it was coming. 

“Min-min…” You started in a feeble attempt to placate your lover but a low growl stopped you from continuing. His tongue bullied your neck, and his hands shifted your focus to your breasts which he squeezed fingers searching for your hardening nipples under the fabric of your blouse. 

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and moan. Thankful that you were still supported by his arms. You could feel Nanami grinding against your back. The bulge that grew in his pants made you wet just thinking about it. 

“Min-min…” you tried again. 

Nanami sank his teeth into the spot he’d been worshipping in response making you yelp with the shock. “Nanami! What the fuck!?” 

He released you and you turned to look at him. His pupils were blown and his lips were red “We need to eat, but I’m not done with you… ” Saying this Nanami squeezed your ass and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you to collect yourself. 

Dinner was quick. You always meal planned during the weekend so everything was ready for Nanami to pop into the oven for a quick broil. Nanami finished dinner by serving you a helping of your favourite ice-cream which you both took to the couch to enjoy but once he was done, he climbed over you in a swift movement. “I’m hungry.” 

“What… We just ate Min-min, were the portions not en—” 

You were cut off by his ravenous mouth on yours. Licking at the ice-cream you were still eating. He sucked on your lower lip as if in answer to your unfinished question. His hands came up once again to knead at your breast. 

A low moan escaped you and you felt your bowl being taken from your hands and set aside while Nanami kissed you over and over. His lips slid down from your mouth to his last conquest and he lapped at it gently hearing you hiss at his touch. The indents his teeth had left on your skin stood out against his tongue, and for a moment Nanami felt guilty. But the feeling was quashed with a simple roll of your hips that begged him for more. 

“Kento… need you…”

Nanami grabbed hold of your ass lifting you onto his lap steadying you with one hand he retrieved the ice cream bowl with the other and handed it to you. 

“Feed me.” 

You took the spoon, ready to let him have some from you but he shook his head. 

“Off you.” 

Your cheeks burned but you slowly dripped a drop of the cold desert onto your chest, right between your breasts. Nanami enthusiastically licked. 

“More. Please…” a gravelly plea.

You dripped it – this time down your breast, it rolled down your skin ending at your erect nipple. Nanami licked again, a stripe up your breast cleaning off the sticky sweetness. His tongue returned and flicked at your nipple and you shuddered. 

He reached a hand under your skirt and rubbed at your mound over your panties. “Come on beautiful, keep it coming.” 

You continued dripping ice cream down your body, cold streaks matching the red welts you left down Nanami’s back. And Nanami ate you like a starved man. He sucked and licked and bit, painting a masterpiece in shades of purple. His mouth never once left you, drawing prayer after prayer from your lips. His hands made quick work of your clothing, tearing off what you wore, and only then did he pause to take a good look at his masterpiece. 

You were a garden in springtime, flowers blooming across your skin. He palmed at the fat bulge in his slacks and you took the opportunity to lick the spoon in your hand of the little ice-cream left on it, trailing your tongue along the metal while never once taking your eyes off Nanami. With a snarl he was on you again, discarding the bowl and lifting you up in his arms to carry you to your bed. He dropped you onto the sheets and yanked down his trousers and boxers in a swift movement. Then he pulled you toward him and sheathed his cock in your dripping pussy. 

The initial stretch was always a little painful but tonight you were too aroused to notice the burn, you ripped Nanami’s shirt off, scattering buttons everywhere, his hands found home in your hair and pulled it out of the messy bun, gently holding your small head against his chest as his cock pounded into you. 

“Fuck— no wonder Gojo had to excuse himself. You have no fuckin’ idea do ya.” You could only whine. Body jerking with each thrust. You latched your mouth against his chest feeling his nipple and kissed and licked at it. Desperation pooled in your lower abdomen and Nanami thankfully kept pace. 

  “You have no clue what you do to people. How fucking alluring you are. Like a witch who’s cast a spell on anyone who gets a look at her…” your lover continued. 

“Min-min-n-n-n!” 

“Yeah baby? Gonna come for me?” His breaths were now ragged, his hips sped up thrusting harder. Two thick fingers were slipped between your folds rubbing firm circles at your clit. “I’m close too baby. Whadya say we come together huh?”  He didn’t falter. Fingers, cock, mouth all running you like a well oiled machine. 

You felt your climax just at the surface, ready to explode and managed to whisper a, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, Ken– so close—” Your arms held his shoulders for support and you bit down on skin, muffling the long keening cry that found its way out of you as you came onto his cock and fingers. 

Nanami followed just after, hips coming to a juddering stop. He emptied his load in you dragging his cock out slowly, letting his release drip down to your ass. You fell back onto the bed exhausted, splaying your arms out for Nanami to come to you. Instead he lifted himself off the bed and took out his phone. You heard the click of a camera shutter and lifted your head. Nanami crawled up beside you showing you the picture. It was a shot of your dripping pussy, angled in a way that one could see the littered hickeys going up your torso. 

Nanami smirked into the shell of your ear. “An artist should always sign their work.”

The next day at Jujutsu High, Gojo noticed two things. One, you were wearing a brand new turtle-neck blouse. And two, later while talking to Nanami, he spotted a large dark mark at the base of his neck – unmistakable teeth marks in a perfect O. 

“Damn Nanamin, never took you to be experimental with flavours!” He teased. “Always thought you were a vanilla man.” 

The End

A/N: THIS WAS SO CRAZY TO WRITE OMG. A massive thank you to @erebus-et-eigengrau who sat and brainstormed this with me in the notes of pt 1.

Hearts and Reblogs are much appreciated and comments will get you KISSIE

[runnning-outof-time]

Could you do "your more fun to miss" with John maybe angsty fluff but whatever works for you and your brain 😁

Thanks for sending this one in, anon!! And I need you to hear me out on this - I KNOW that the gif is of Joe Cole as Sean Wallace in Gangs of London, BUT this could ALSO be Modern!John Shelby … which is what I was going for in this blurb. I figured I’d think outside of the box for one of my John stories since no one is really reading them anyway… But if you are reading them…Enjoy! :) …oh and again, I just focused on the face he’s making rather than what the woman talking to him looks like - I felt the face really matched the situation haha. Ok, I’m babbling now..on with the story!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

More Fun to Miss

Modern!John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: language, drinking, insinuations of cheating

Word Count: 1165

Summary: (Y/N) lets John have a piece of her mind when she sees him (against her wishes) for the first time in three weeks at a club.

“Don’t look now…” (Y/N)’s friend, Kara, began, making she sure had the woman she was addressing’s attention before continuing, “but that man has literally been eye-fucking you all night,” her grin grew as she finished her statement.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed at her friend’s comment. Then she looked over her shoulder to see who she was talking about. The first thing that came to her mind when she located said man was fuck.

“What? Do you know him or something?” Kara asked upon seeing (Y/N)’s reaction to her observation.

“Yeah, I do,” (Y/N) answered with a sigh.

Kara looked over her friend’s shoulder to take another glimpse of the man before turning her attention back to the conversation. She bit on her bottom lip to conceal her grin as she debated whether or not saying what was on her mind would anger (Y/N) or not. After a few moments, she thought ‘the hell with it’. “He’s hot as fuck,” she commented, her grin in full view now.

“I beg to differ,” (Y/N) disagreed, sipping on her drink and hoping she didn’t look too disgusted.

“Well he’s been staring at you literally all night.”

“Yeah, that’s because he knows me too.”

“Care to share the details?” Kara’s eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“I’d much rather move to a different table,” (Y/N) responded, grabbing her drink in one hand and her clutch in the other before she stood from the table they were sitting at.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” Kara called, scoffing before she hurried to grab her things and catch up with her friend.

(Y/N) silently cursed the fact that the club was rather packed, which made it hard for her to find another open table. At this point, she’d much rather leave the place than go back to where she’d been sitting.

Her path was soon blocked though, and the second she looked up, she had to muster all of her restraint not to throw her drink in the man’s face.

“(Y/N)? I thought it was you,” the cocky shit that was John Shelby wasted no time in making conversation. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s been three weeks, John. Get the fuck out of my way,” (Y/N) dismissed his pleasantries, hoping that he could tell by the glare she was wearing that she wanted no parts of talking to him.

But, of course, John didn’t catch onto it. Or maybe he did and decided to continue the conversation in spite of her. “Three weeks too long, darlin’,” he commented, his eyes raking over her figure, “I’ve missed you.”

“You found him, (Y/N)! I knew you’d taken off for a reason!” Kara chimed into the conversation before (Y/N) could respond with a snide remark.

“I didn’t find him, he blocked my path, Kara,” (Y/N) muttered to her friend, hoping that she’d catch onto her facial expression and help her out.

“You’re a friend?” John asked before Kara was able to get a good look at (Y/N)’s face, succeeding at pulling her attention to him.

“I am! Who might you be?” Kara asked, her grin growing by the second.

“Oh she didn’t tell me about you?” John’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “I was sure she would’ve.”

“No, she didn’t, and I’m rather confused as to why,” Kara responded, frowning at John before she sent (Y/N) a glare and elbowed her side. This set (Y/N) off even more. You’re supposed to be on my side!, she menatlly screamed at her friend.

“Why didn’t you tell her, love?” John now directed his surprised gaze at (Y/N).

“Because contrary to your belief, John, you’re really not someone I’d scream from the rooftops over,” she spat back, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“The noise complaints we got from my nieghbors beg to differ, baby,” he cracked back, his words dripping with smugness. I outgha just throw this fucking drink at you, (Y/N) thought as she stared him down. If looks could kill, he’d be flat on the floor by now.

“I bet they come knocking for every girl you decide to take home to fuck,” (Y/N) decided against making an even bigger scene, keeping the glass gripped firmly in her hand as she snapped at him, “and they probably complain pretty regularly considering you take a different one back every night,” she paused, seeing the surprise return to his eyes. It egged her on even more. “You thought I didn’t know, huh? Thought I hadn’t caught on to it? Why do you think it’s been three weeks and I haven’t answered a single one of your fucking texts, John?” she let him have it, taking her frustration out on him all while getting more frustrated by how he was looking at her.

It seemed like he hadn’t actually heard a word she said, because he was too busy flicking his eyes down to her lips, watching them as she unleashed her anger on him while his grin grew smugger with each word said.

“Oh shit…” Kara’s voice was full of surprise as she looked between the two, the dots finally getting connected in her mind. “That’s why you wanted to go…” she said to (Y/N) then.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I wanted to go,” (Y/N) answered her friend in a huff, finally breaking eye contact with the man she’d been standing toe-to-toe with. “And I’d like to leave now,” she added, her desperation returning as her anger started to make her feel sick. This was certainly not where she wanted to have this conversation.

“I’ll take the glasses back,” Kara told her, gently taking the glass that (Y/N) had had a white-knuckle grip on from the moment John stopped her. (Y/N) didn’t even realize she’d been holding it that hard until she moved her fingers and they were sore from the tension they’d been under.

The end was in sight now. All she had to do was wait a few more moments for Kara to return. Then she would be away from John Shelby forever.

But of course, John Shelby couldn’t let her get away without one last word. “Like I said, (Y/N)…I missed you,” he said to her, looking her over one last time - as if he was committing her to memory because he knew he’d never cross paths with her again. I hope my memory fucking haunts you, she thought to herself as she thought of one last thing to leave him with.

“Yeah, well you’re more fun to miss,” she sneered at him, looking him over once more also before she pushed passed him to the exit. Kara would have to find her outside because she didn’t want to be in his presence for one more second.

More fun to miss, indeed…although she wasn’t sure if she’d even miss him.

…ok so that was more angsty than fluffy, but the prompt took me on a ride and I had a bunch of fun writing it. I hope you don’t I strayed from your wishes slightly, anon!

**tags in reblogs so that hopefully the notification gets sent out

MASTERLIST

[cutestbow]

Notes: this blurb is apart of an au if anyone is confused!!

Ellen had called Penelope over after school to go dress browsing online for homecoming, though she insisted it was fine, but of course Ellen being Ellen she was gonna do it anyway, she waited at the door after knocking a few times, she heard footsteps coming to the door before they stopped and she heard a groan, she rolled her eyes as Luke opened the door.

“What do you want?” Luke said in a rude tone.

“Don’t flatter yourself Hughes, I’m not here for you,” she said pushing past him.

“Well Quinn and Jack aren’t here” he said rudely

“Im not here for them, I’m here for Ellen.” She snapped back.

“Well she’s not here either, she’s getting groceries smartass.” He said sharply.

“God your such an asshole,” she exclaimed throwing her hands in her head in frustration.

“God your such an asshole,” he mocked, he stood there with that stupid smirk on his face as she made her way over to him.

She was about to get to him before Ellen came through the door.

“Penelope your here!, hold on one second sweetie while I put these groceries away,” she said walking to the kitchen.

Penelope took a deep breathe before talking again. “I’ll help you” she said going to grab a bag as Luke finally walked away still with that stupid smirk on his face.

“Oh,no honey go sit down I’ll be fine.” She said reassuring the girl.

once Ellen put the groceries away and sat down with penople they started browsing for dresses.

“Thank you again Ellen, really you didn’t have to.” Penelope said as her eyes lingered on a specific dress.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it sweetie, just wanted to do something nice for you.” She said smiling at the girl. Before pressing on the dress she was eyeing.

“You like this one?” She asked. Penelope nodded in response going to say something before someone spoke up before her

“That would not look good on you” Luke spoke looking at her for a reaction.

“Very funny Hughes. you wouldn’t to now what good looks like, you dress like a hobo everyday.” She shot back watching as his stupid smirk disappeared.

“I ha-“ he spoke before getting cut off by Ellen.

“Ok Luke, can’t you see we’re trying to shop here?” Ellen spoke watching as he walked away and back upstairs.

Penelope groaned in frustration once Luke was finally gone.

“Im sorry Ellen but truly he’s very annoying” she spoke letting her head fall in her hands.

“Yeah they do that some times, don’t worry it’ll pass and you guys will be friends in no time” Ellen said with a smile on her face.

Penelope laughed at this, she’d never be friends with a jerk like him she thought but just shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“Oh I just remembered what I needed to ask you.” Ellen spoke suddenly, “are you going to the dance with anybody?” She said resting her Elbow on the back of the couch.

Penelope sighed before speaking “No, I was just going to go with my friends.”

Ellen thought for a moment before nodding and continuing the dress shopping.

[homestylehughes]

But Daddy I Love Him

instagram au.

♥︎ luke hughes x zegras! sister

♥︎ face claim: marsai martin

"Now I'm running with my dress unbuttoned, Screaming "But Daddy I love him!"

yn.zegras

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes and 100,567 others

yn.zegras screaming but daddy i love him!

tagged lhughes_06

lhughes_06 my pretty girlllll

↳ yn.zegras my pretty boy :)

lhughes_06 I love so you much

↳ yn.zegras i love you more.

lhughes_06 my babyyy my babyyyyyy

↳ yn.zegras MY BABYYY

your.bsf FINALLY POSTING UR MAN.

↳ yn.zegras I KNOW BE PROUD OF MEEE.

your.bsf favorite couple ever.

↳ yn.zegras you're our adopted child:)

jackhughes oh.

↳ yn.zegras shut up and be happy for us.

↳ jackhughes okay fine. i'm happy for you guys.

trevorzegras i guess they're kinda cute. i still hate this though.

↳ yn.zegras KINDA? hm ok.

_quinnhughes THE HARD LAUNCH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! ABOUT DAMN TIME.

↳ yn.zegras QUINNYYYYYYY. we finally got it together

elbue_06 you guys are so cute, thank you for taking care of my boy!

↳ yn.zegras always mama el!! we love you <3

adamfantilli hard launch!

↳ yn.zegras YUPPPPPPPPPP

nick_moldenhauer HARD. LAUNCH.

↳ yn.zegras the best one too.

seamsuscasey26 mom and dad fr.

↳ yn.zegras YES!!!!!

devilforhughes oh I'm so for this. LOVE.

↳ yn.zegras me too bsf :0

zegrasfanpage AHHHH FINALLLYYYYY.

lhughes_06

liked by yn.zegras, _quinnhughes and 156,789 others

lhughes_06 my girl <3

tagged yn.zegras

yn.zegras SHUT UP THIS IS SO CUTEEEEE.

↳ lhughes_06 learned from the best.

yn.zegras I love you so much

↳ lhughes_06 I love you moreeeee.

yn.zegras my boy<3

↳ lhughes_06 my girl<3

_quinnhughes two hard launches in one day? I LOVE

↳ lhughes_06 our biggest supporter fs

jackhughes ok maybe this is kinda cute.

↳ lhughes_06 we know!

trevorzegras Luke if you never hurt her, I will kill you! much love!

↳ lhughes_06 sir yes sir! it'll never happen.

↳ yn.zegras TREVOR LMFAO

elblue_06 my babies!!! so cute!!!

↳ lhughes_06 love you mama!!!

seamsuscasey26 OKAY LUKEY BOY

rutgermcgroarty MY PARENTS!

↳lhughes_06 my son.

nick_moldenhauer my boy finally did it. thank God.

↳ lhughes_06 FINALLY.

devilforhughes I'm actually in love with them.

liked by lhughes_06 and yn.zegras

-----------------------------------♡-----------------------------------------

an: HIIIIII!!! I MISSED YOU GUYS!!! GUESS WHOS BACKKKK!!! MEEE! okay enough caps LMFAO (me then doing it again.. whoops) anyways!! hard launch chapter!!! I'm such a fan, I'm kinda sad that this is almost over, i've had the most fun making this series. I do plan on writing blurbs for this series as well, so this won't be the end of Luke and yn's story!! i hope you all enjoy, like and reblog if you do!!. much love as always<3

tags🎀: @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @bruinsfan234 @bunbunbl0gs

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey! I really enjoy everything you write! :) Can I request a blurb with Daemon and Stark!Reader in which she tells him she's with child and his reaction to the news? Thank you so much! ❤️

Moon Cycle

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: He smiles, reaching out to me, "so, are we having a dragonling?"

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, smut (reader in heat?, emotional fucking, she cries mid fucking, spitting, vaginal penetration, degradation kink, biting, breeding kink?), feminism has fled me fam, soft!daemon kinda, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HI THIS OPENS WITH SMUT COS 🙈 MINORS DNI you said you wanted a blurb nonnie but i say i want to write a whole fic (: cos my targ x stark duo have called to me again I HOPE YOURE OK WITH THE SMUT DAMN YOU SHOULDNT BE READING ANY OF MY STARK!READER FICS IF YOU ARENT T_T Tagging: @aralezinspace @em-the-lurker @blue1006 @mukduk-not-murder @min-jianhyung @deniixlovezelda @moonmaiden1996 @thatmysteriousblog @pinksirensong @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @sloanexx @nyctophilic0vitnir I'm too lazy to put all the parts so please be advised this follows a whole universe though i would think you could still read it by itself :D here's its masterlist cos of course it has a masterlist it got too big and my head was fried previous fic p3 | Stark!Reader Masterlist

It hurt. It's been hurting.

Every fucking moon, I go from wanting to butcher Daemon for, well... being Daemon, for strutting around with his big head and puffed chest, or should I say, following me around with his big head and puffed chest, to very literally getting on my hands and knees with tears in my eyes begging him to make me feel better.

Because it hurts.

It fucking hurts so bad, because I want him.

There was a pressure in my belly, an ache between my thighs that I couldn't fucking rid of by myself. My treacherous body wanted, no needed, no pleaded-- groveled for him.

And normally, if Daemon laughed at me or called me names, I'd pay him back worse with pettier tomfoolery. But never like this. Never when my eyes were blown at the sight of him towering over me while I'm lied in bed, never when I was very much so at his mercy, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting ever so patiently. Waiting like his--

"Pretty little eager whore," he traced my lips with two of his fingers and slowly brought them in my mouth.

My heart was pounding so hard that by entire body was vibrating. My tongue swirled around his fingers as he pushed my jaw down.

I was doing a pretty good job at obeying, in keeping my hands on the side of the bed, gripping the sheets for dear deliverance, and not touching him though I so badly wanted to.

My legs were wrapped around him, unwilling, absolutely selfishly, haughtily, greedily refusing to let him go. His furious, hard member was so tragically left uninvited in my eager baby house. Yes, my maniacal fucking womb that has been overriding my brain in decisions every moon. Every. Single. Moon. where, regretfully, I have been without the prize it so eagerly wants to get... so to speak.

"Look at you," my husband presses with his body, bound in muscles I so desired to be ripped apart with. His body, burning like molten dragon fire, hotter still against my skin that burned for him. The feel of him was so blistering in these moments that I, in fact, no longer could be proud of my own heat that has kept me warm in the harsh winters in the North.

His fingers in my mouth pushes my tongue down, "you would let me do anything to you."

The sound that leaves my open mouth would not have been a sound any sane person would make. And yet I made it a point to even nod my head at his words.

I let out another disturbingly lewd sound when he hisses and rocks himself against me in response.

I arch my back. I rip at the sheets. I close my mouth and suck on his fingers. I use my entire body to tell him how fucking badly I need this, how desperate I was to have him have his way with me. Anyway way with me. Please.

Daemon growls, "gōntan nyke epagon ao naejot bībagon, ao rene?" Did I ask you to suck, you slut?

My stomach burned at the recognition of his crude words. They were, in truth, the few ones I could make out because of how often he uses them on me.

Daemon's long, silver hair spills over to me as he leans and curls his lip in disdain, "open your mouth, haughty bitch."

I open my mouth for him, as I was his haughty bitch.

He pulls his fingers out and I feel the warmth of his fingers as he squeezes my jaw. I begin to allow my mouth to relax and slowly close, but that was my mistake.

"Open!" he barks, tightening his grip on me.

My belly drops and the pulse in between my legs intensifies. I open my mouth and dart my tongue out to my lower lip.

Daemon licks his own glistening mouth and chin, shining still from the desperate release I had embarrassingly quickly when he kissed my delirious womanhood. He then pulls his tongue back in and I watch as his Adam's apple bobs. Then, he lazily turns his violet eyes at me like I was the most uninteresting thing in the world and spits into my throat.

I should not have made the sound that I did, but I did, and I eagerly swallowed his thick spit.

Daemon goes wild. His hands claw at my breasts as he rocks his hips against mine and moans like he ran 50 miles, "fucking hell, my love."

I whine when he takes my hands and puts it on him, wordlessly giving me the dominion on his body I had been longing for. I eagerly relish his skin. I touch him everywhere, hands clawing and rubbing his taut back, crying out at the texture of his skin I sought to memorize with my palms.

Daemon sinks his head next to mine as he shifts above me, allowing me to suckle on his prized shoulder like a hungry babe.

His fingers dig into my fleshy thighs and when he finally grants me some form of relief by entering me, his words nearly go deaf to me with my needy squeak. He mutters against my ear, "you're so washed up by the need to be bred, I almost feel bad for you."

I rip at his scalp when he begins to thrust into me.

"Almost," he chuckles, "I do say, I like you best when you're cock drunk and broken by me."

I pant against him and pull him closer, as if he wasn't the closest he could be already, "Daemon, ᵈ𝐚ｅм𝑜ภ, pleeeaaaase- wan you- wan- so-soooo bad-"

He kisses my cheek, "I know." He lifts himself up and I whine, fighting against him, not wanting him to move away. He shushes me like a child, scolding me for clawing at him. He swats my hands away as he pushes my legs into my chest. He repeats rather impatiently, "I know, ñuha jorrāelagon, but you have to let me work."

I throw my head back with my hands, lamenting his loss. My eyes begin to water in my desperation, "darling, please."

Daemon huffs as he quickens his pace, folding me like a piece of paper, rutting into me with purpose. The sound of his brutalizing echoes in our empty chambers. It is clouded by my pathetic sobs and moans, as well as the prince's sore displeasure, "such a spoiled brat. You cannot have everything all the time."

My mind is reduced to nothing but pain and pleasure.

Truly like a brat, saddened over the fact I could not reach and press against my husband as he fucks me into oblivion, my mouth quivers as my tears stain my cheeks. But at the same time, so excited and so pleasured by his rough hands and his thick girth ramming into me, my very same mouth that was quivering was calling out in ecstasy.

I ripped at my own hair then. I was so feral and there was nothing better to do. I screw my eyes shut, neck straining with desperate calls for my love.

Daemon locks his grip on my hip bones and chastises me for my tears, "you dare complain to your prince when I've been generous to such a whore?" He heaves deeper and thrusts sharper into me. My voice is unstable as I scream out because of it.

"I ought to come in your mouth to teach you a lesson," he growls, making it a point to dig his fingers into me, intent on leaving bruises.

My eyes shoot open, my lashes laces with tears. I shake my head and whine, "please, please, no, no-"

"Then thank me for my generosity."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

I continue to thank him as I continue my descent to madness. I begin to clench against him. Daemon hisses as leans forward, hands sinking into the cushion by my sides, allowing him to pivot so deliciously and brutally into my sopping heat.

I groan as I reach for his face, reaching back to his nape, hell bent on pulling his hair and riding my incoming high.

"Daemon," I hoarsely whisper, "please."

"Yes, pretty girl," Daemon mutters, "I'll give your tight cunny what it wants so desperately," his one hand reaches down to my thigh, "kesan mazverdagon ao māzigon sȳz." I will make you come good.

Nothing but strangled breathing and obscene noises are left for a long moment.

And then.

My body coils around him. My stomach tightens. My legs constrict. My head thrashes back. My neck strains. My jaw drops. My voice cracks.

And then I grow rigid and hot and wild and absolutely relieved. I call out to him as my tears prick in the corner of my eyes and my nails dig into his flesh.

And then the sensation is intensified by the fullness of him erupting into me. Daemon comes with a thick string of cusses and an even thicker string of hotness, unrelentingly focused on reaching the very depths of my flesh, of my entire fucking being.

I wail like the maddened woman I am, his melted ragdoll, his starved bride, cunt clamoring for cock.

In his constant drive to destroy, he tramples into me until all my delight ripples into sharp stabs of discomfort. But it doesn't last very long until his tempo loses its pace and the terseness of his form mimics my liquified one. With his body aflame and pulse racing, Daemon sinks down onto me, pressing together our two chests, fighting for air.

I seal him in my limbs and tightly pull him into me, even though we were both overheating at this point.

Daemon's hot breath sears my neck but I don't care, I cradle his head and adjust my legs around him, needing him there, needing him to stay, needing to be full of him.

He calls out my name between exhales and kisses my jaw, he speaks to me in High Valyrian, something, I knew, meant he was not going to run away. I don't care. I wasn't about to let him go. He was staying here. He was staying here. I need him here.

He sighs as he brushes his nose against me. He must have felt the dampness of my tears, which was why he began to lick on my skin. He lifts his head as much as he could with me still pulling him down. He looks at me, "are you alright, pretty wife?"

I loosen my hold a fraction to turn to him. I readily nod. I take his face in my hands and pepper him with kisses, "thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you-"

He silences me by pressing his lips on mine. He rubs his nose against mine before sinking his face down again, "don't thank me yet. We may well continue with this song and dance next moon cycle, or tomorrow," he chuckles, "not that I'm complaining."

I trail kisses on his shoulder, kissing the war scars on his skin, "I love you so much, Daemon, thank you."

He laughs, making me whimper. Daemon rubs his face against mine, confessing in his mother tongue the same sentiment, "avy jorrāelan." He breathes out in self-satisfaction, "remember this feeling when we're not joined to the hip. You would do anything for me."

"Anything," I mumble back. I then tighten my grip at his indirect threat to pull out of me, "you're not allowed to leave. Never. Never."

Daemon laughs again, pulling his head up, nipping at my lip, "what a brat."

"Don't fucking call me that," I snap raising a finger at him.

Not even a whole day has passed and Daemon was already extremely disappointed that my hedonistic want for him dissipated, was nonexistent really, especially after hearing his plans to bring my wolf, Havoc, off with him to a fucking banquet.

I roughly adjust the ties of his dress shirt on him. Daemon watches as I do this, lips curved into a smile, "you liked it last night."

"That was because you weren't spitting out nonsense."

"Oh," he takes one of my hands, "but I did spit in your mouth."

I glare as I rip my hand back, hitting him with his coat before helping him put it on.

Daemon licks his lips as he chuckles and allows me to finish dressing him. He pushes my hair back and tilts his head as he puts his sleeves on, "I'll keep her outside. I promise."

I ignore him as I button down his coat.

"Havoc wouldn't attack-"

"You." I cut him off, turning to him with an annoyed expression. I shake my head, "it took her ages to even tolerate the people here. You think it's a good idea for her to be taken to a strange land at a house you're meant to be the king's envoy?"

Daemon makes a face as I drag him by the arm to the chair of my vanity. He winces when I roughly brush his hair in distaste. He groans, "gently."

I glare at him from the mirror and rip at his head.

He repels the action and crosses his arms, "you know well enough that if it is I my brother is sending as an envoy, he means to send a message. And not of a pleasant sort."

"So? Bring Caraxes," I say as I hand him the brush and gather the hair at the top of his head.

He pouts, "but they already know we have dragons. I want to show them my wife's beast."

I roll my eyes as I tie his hair.

"Come with me then."

I scoff, "aren't you the same man that convinced the maesters to tell me off for even breathing because you're convinced I'm with child?"

"Well," Daemon smirks, "when you woke up unwanting to fuck, I figured I might have done the trick last night."

I drop my hands to his shoulders after finishing styling his hair, "you know, just because I wasn't so eager this morning, doesn't mean I don't want to-"

I don't even get to finish as Daemon stands and grabs my face.

I step back when he leans in to kiss me and push him off, saying the few of his native speech that I knew "gīda ilagon, doru-borto zaldrīzes." Calm down, stupid dragon.

He hums, "I love it when you talk to me like this."

I am unable to dodge his attack further and sigh against his kiss. Before I could let him undo all the work I put in dressing him, I push him back, "Daemon, you have places to be."

He narrows his eyes, faux thinking, then shakes his head. "I really don't," he mutters.

I whimper when his hand darts between my thighs, forcing itself to my core even with my skirt on.

When I don't push him off, Daemon sinks into my neck and laughs, "I see..." he licks my skin, "you're still my needy bitch."

"Daemon..."

He pulls back, taking his hands with him, smiling as he brings his arms behind his back, "then I shall leave happily, knowing you will suffer without me."

I feel my stomach burn, both in spite and need.

Daemon smiles as he presses a quick kiss on my lips and walks off, "see you in a week, my love."

"A week?" I call, "but it takes 3 days on dragon back."

"Ah... but I fear Caraxes is too tired as of late," he marches across the room, "I must take the horses. Or actually, perhaps I should walk. Poor steeds, overworked as it is."

"When did you start to fucking care?" I hiss.

"Today," he chuckles.

I scoff, crossing my arms, "walk then! See if I care."

I did very much care.

I cared oh so very, very much, especially when he had not returned home after 8 days. Especially after learning the news the moron's hunch was correct, and I was, in fact with child.

I got so restless over the idea of not only carrying a life inside my belly, but with the one where the degenerate cretin must have walked to prove a point, to spite me. It was driving me insane. What if he ran into trouble? What if he got lost? What if he died?

Havoc could not bare to be apart from me after the day the maesters told me the news. I had gotten so anxious that she got so anxious, very much so that she did not let anyone near me, not that I wanted anyone near me in the first place.

What I wanted was the fucker who did this to me. I needed him to come back to- to... us.

Today, I was at the dragon pit, seriously debating taking Caraxes to find his stupid master. Would he even let me ride him without Daemon? Don't know. Will he even know what the fuck I want him to do? Probably not. But here I was at the dragon pit, face to face with a dragon keeper, speaking at me with a language I did not understand with not only a restless me, but a restless direwolf and a restless dragon. Not my brightest moments, but I was rather desperate as of late, if you couldn't already tell.

I wrapped my arms around myself as the man that cared for the overgrown fire lizards explained something to me slowly. Caraxes may have disagreed with what he said, considering that he began to hiss.

It was a series of tense events after another at this point.

The next thing I knew, Havoc was going insane, growling and barking at Caraxes out of nowhere.

I bark at her and point a finger, "down girl!"

Havoc's ears shift back but she continues to snarl.

I turn to where her eyes are locked, at Caraxes, who was shaking his head and whining. He snarls and steps back slowly, blowing smoke through his nostrils until he was laid down. He makes a screeching nose as he drops his head in front of me.

Havoc finally calms, literally shoving the dragon keeper away in order to come to Caraxes and lick his face.

I watch in confused horror of what just happened, what was happening, then turn to the dragon keeper as he exclaims and throws his hands up.

I let out a sigh as I inch close to the direwolf and the dragon, placing a hand on each of their bodies, stroking them, "that's right... gīda ilagon, be calm, the both of you."

"Princess."

I turn at the sound of the call. I suck in a sharp breath, shoulders dropping in relief when I see the smug face that I do.

"You fucker," I mutter through tears, gathering my skirt up and walking over to man who was already walking over to me. I pick up my pace and jog to him, scowling as I did.

The ass stops in his tracks and laughs. He smiles, reaching out to me, "so, are we having a dragonling?"

Daemon grunts when I jump into his arms. He latches onto me and breathes in deeply, pulling me up until my feet left the floor, "oh foolish girl. So worked up for nothing."

"You were gone for eight days, Daemon!"

"I said I'd be gone a week," he sets me down. He pulls back and rubs my lips with his thumb, "it's been a week."

I punch his chest, "it's been eight days!"

"Same thing," he grunts and recoils, breaking into a laugh. "Fine," he grabs my hand and tugs me close to him, "you have my apologies," he kisses the back of my hand, "but... you've not answered me though."

Daemon purses his lips into as smile. He places his hands on my waist, pulling me into him. I scowl at him as he pushes my hair back. I reach out to him, wrapping my arms around his torso. His smile magnifies, "have you made me a kepa, darling?"

His violet eyes twinkle when he asked this. The glint in his eyes is bright, not just because it held the telltale mischief it did normally, but also because, behind them, I could see his hope, I could see was looking forward to this, in knowing his hunch was right all along, smug fucker... my smug rotten fuck.

I bite my lower lip at the though. It is overwhelming real for me so suddenly. It was like my life was flashing before me. I feel tears prick in the corner of my eyes.

Daemon's expression goes lax. He releases a breath. He calls out my name softly. He speaks it in a way he has not done before. He says it as a means to comfort me. He says it in a tender way. He's misread my reaction.

He kisses my forehead, "It's alright. We haven't been trying for long. I'll make it up to you, darling. I don't want you to cry, unless you're begging for my-"

"I am with child."

His mouth ceases. His words go dry.

I release a chuckle as I feel my tears fog my vision, "I found out a few days ago and I've been frantic ever since."

Daemon releases a chuckle and shakes his head, "you're with child."

I nod as tears stream my cheeks.

He laughs and seals me into a hug, "well done!" He kisses my forehead.

I begin to choke on my tears.

"Oh, no more. Fret no longer," he tightens his arms around me, laughing again, "my wife has blessed me with a dragon."

My lips quiver, "Daemon, I started to think of the worst scenarios possible. I thought you died"

"Shhh," he pulls away to kiss my lips, "it takes a lot to kill me," he grins, "shall I fuck your fears away?"

I groan, "Daemon."

He laughs, pulling away, "you've made me a father, my whiny pup," he grabs my hands, "it's the least I could do."

I groan, "I'm being serious, Daemon."

"As am I!" he says, looking around in excitement. It seems he only now caught sight the two creatures across us, "has Havoc been licking Caraxes' face this whole time?"

[marsdreamworld]

Electric Love - CL16 x reader

mars’ notes: First off, wtaf??? i’m so so so happy that you guys liked my lando blurb that much, i was half distracted and incredibly anxious when i wrote it, so the fact that so many people like it is absolutely insane to me jnfruncr - anyways, here’s a cute little (not so little) Charles fic i had bouncing around in my head :) thank you @love-belle for listening to me ramble!! please please lmk what you think, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated <333

summary: 4 times Charles almost told you he loved you, and the one time he did.

warnings: none!! super fluffy (again)

———————————————————-

The first time Charles almost let those three precious words slip from his lips was during an unassuming pasta date the two of you had planned. You had gone to the grocery store earlier in the day, and had remembered the old, silver unused pasta maker that was stashed in the back of yours and Charles’ kitchen cabinet, and decided that it seemed like a good day to finally teach your boyfriend how to properly cook the Italian staple. You’d come home in a flurry of excitement, bags dangling from your arms and a bright smile on your face, stating that you were going to teach him how to cook so well that he’d rival Yuki Tsunoda, teasing that maybe that way he’d be able to get Pierre over to his house for a dinner date as well. He’d smiled, grabbed the bags from your hands and set them down on the kitchen counter, before winding his arms around you and kissing you softly, telling you that he missed you and couldn’t wait.

You were too full of excitement to wait any longer, turning on the old radio in the corner of the kitchen, the sound of an old 1950s love song filling the space whilst Charles got two glasses and a bottle of red wine from the rack in the living room. Once your glasses were full and your hands had been washed, you’d dragged him over to the kitchen counter and thrust a “kiss the cook” apron into his hands, instructing him to put it on so he wouldn’t get flour all over himself. He’d asked whether you had a matching one, to which you replied that you’d done this far too many times to spill any flour and that your outfit would be ruined with it. He’d let his eye roam your figure, taking in the sweatshirt you’d stolen from him yesterday, claiming it smelt like him, along with the cute giraffe print pyjama bottoms you adored so much; your hair clipped back messily, sleeves pulled up to your elbows, and Charles swore he’d never seen anything as beautiful.

He was elbow deep in dough before he knew it, hands sticky with egg yolk and flour, the substance sticking to his skin despite how hard he was trying to pull it off. You were standing next to him, your own ball of dough perfectly rolled and kneaded, hands free of any lingering blobs of dough. A piece of hair had fallen into your face, and you’d used your shoulder to attempt to push it back behind your ear again, huffing when it returned to block your vision. Something had just felt so right - he could imagine doing this after a hectic race weekend, coming home to you making a fresh batch of pasta to go with his favourite white sauce, love songs in the background and wine glass in hand. He thought of you standing at this very kitchen counter, flour smudged on your face as you taught a mini version of you how to knead dough, and how to use the pasta machine that he knew was going to come very close to sucking in his fingers.

“Charlie? You ok, my love? Pasta isn’t that hard to make, baby, you just need more flour.”

You’d looked over to catch him staring at you, cheeks red and eyes glazed, and it took everything in him to not spit out how much he loved you. He wanted to scream it from the rooftops, post it on every social media platform, say it over and over until your heart was beating as fast as his was. He watched as you leaned over, sprinkling more flour onto his hands, and all he could do was smile.

————————-

The second time Charles almost confessed the inner workings of his heart was during a race weekend - Spa, to be exact. Spa was a race that was heavy with memories, good and bad. Antoine’s ghost still lingered at every corner, and the cheers of the 2019 crowd still rang in his ears during his track walk. It was a weekend that stirred up a plethora of emotions, contrasting and deep, and it weighed on him. He’d made it a point to leave flowers for his friend every year, joining Pierre alongside the track when they went to pay their respects. This would be the first time you would be by his side, at your insistence. He’d told you countless times that it was he was perfectly fine with just Pierre for company, that you didn’t have to drag yourself out there with him and get soaked, but you wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t care whether it’s storming or if people are passing out from the heat, Charles Leclerc, I’m coming with you, whether you like it or not. You’ve gone through enough on your own, and I’m not letting you do it again, not while I’m here.”

He’d stood in silence, gaping at you until your expression faltered and your hands fell from their resting place on your hips. You were halfway through stammering an apology, explaining that you just didn’t want him to be going through that alone, that you were always there for him when he surged forward and kissed you, hands cradling your face.

He was so overwhelmed in that moment, thoughts of Antoine floating through his head, a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him that it could be his turn this weekend, that he’d never get to tell you how he feels. He pulled back, thumbs brushing over your delicate cheeks, lips forming the words, when suddenly,

“Charles! You have a press conference in 5! Get a move on!”

Fred’s voice broke through the bubble, and you both jumped, startled by the shout. A weight settled in his chest, Charles desperately looking back at you, hoping that what he didn’t have a chance to say was evident in his eyes. You smiled back at him as if to say “me too”, and that was the end of that.

————————-

The third time was during family dinner. His mother had invited the two of you, along with Arthur, Lorenzo and their respective partners, over to her cosy house in Monaco for an evening meal. You had spent the last thirty minutes stressing over whether or not you looked good enough to meet “the woman who gave birth to the prince of Monaco” and thirty minutes before that stressing over which wine to take, if any. Once a good enough Chardonnay had been chosen (a 20 year old bottle you had been gifted by your boss and had deemed too fancy to just open over a plate of pasta at home), and your hair curled and make up painted to perfection, you turned to look at Charles, smiling, shooting him a “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” and he couldn’t help but laugh.

The drive to his mother’s house was fairly uneventful, with him humming along to a French song playing on the radio, one hand on the wheel and the other situated on your thigh, slipping in between the slit of cherry red, silk dress you had chosen for the occasion. The windows were down, the wind whipping through your hair, and you were smiling and singing along with him, a pretty picture of contentment.

You had calmed down by the time the two of you had reached the front door, confident enough to greet his mother with a hug and a kiss to the cheek, laughing when she said that you looked “absolutely amazing, chèrie”. You had bantered with his brothers, giving as good as you got, helped set the table and pick the music, and had even taken over Arthur’s babysitting duties, spending time playing dolls with his little nieces. Looking at how well you fit in with his family made Charles’ heart beat out of his chest. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to see his Maman standing next to him, a light smile on her lips.

“She’s the one, my boy.” she said, and all Charles could do was nod in agreement, quietly saying the words,

“I think I love her, maman.”

Pascale simply smiled, and turned to walk back to the kitchen.

————————

He actually got through the first word and a half the fourth time. It seemed like whenever Charles actually got the opportunity to tell you he loved you, something or the other interrupted him, and this time was no exception. He never thought he would end up here, in a dingy club bathroom, wine stain on his brand new white shirt, and you standing by the sink laughing at him.

He had just won the Australian GP, Carlos coming in a close second, and Daniel stealing the third step of the podium. The season had started well for the team, and in natural Ferrari fashion, they had all gotten dressed up and found their way to the nearest club. Drinks flowed, partners were found and dragged to the dance floor, sweaty bodies pressed so close that it was hard to figure out who was who. He had been walking back from the bar, his and your drinks in hand, making his way back to his fellow drivers and you in a pretty black dress you’d picked out earlier in the day, when someone had bumped into him, wine spilling and staining his shirt. You’d turned at the noise that escaped his throat, an embarrassingly high-pitched squeal, and had kept a straight face for all of three seconds before you were laughing.

You’d taken the now empty glasses from his hands, set them down on the table and looped your arm through his, pulling him in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You know, now might not be the best time for a quickie, mon ètoile, my shirt is soaked.”

You had simply looked back at him, and told him that that was “even more reason to get that shirt off him”, your tone insinuating that you wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. Once in the bathroom, the door locked and lights on, you’d beelined for the tissues, soaking them in a little water and soap before turning back to him with a determined look in your eyes. Instructing him to hold still, you’d taken to trying to scrub the stain out, armed with tissue that was on the verge of disintegrating. He knew the stain wasn’t going to budge, a voice that sounded like his mother’s telling him that he’d need hydrogen peroxide or vinegar at the very least, but he let you grip his shirt regardless, perching himself on the lip of the sink and pulling you closer to stand in between his legs. His eyes roved over your face, taking in the slight crease in between your eyebrows, and your teeth biting at your lower lip. There was something so endearing about the way you looked trying to rub something as stubborn as a wine stain out of his clothes that made him want to never let you go.

Tell her now, you idiot, who cares if you’re in a club bathroom, it’ll make for an interesting story to tell your kids later, he thought to himself.

“Ma chèrie?”, he waited for you to look up from his shirt before continuing, “I lo-“

“Charles! Did you manage to get that wine out yet? We’re waiting to order the next round of shots, mate, hurry up!”

The banging on the door, combined with his teammate’s voice, had interrupted him, the moment well and truly over. He grumbled to himself, something about never having a moment of peace, before looking up at you, nodding his head towards the direction of the door.

There was always next time.

————————-

It had been a quiet moment, just you and him somewhere on the coast of Monaco, yacht rocking with the waves, peaceful. The day had started the way it usually did, the sun streaming into his eyes as you curled into his side, screwing your eyes shut in a vain effort to try and sleep a little longer. He’d kissed you, slow and soft, before whispering a hushed good morning, smiling when he got a sleepy mumble in response. He’d pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, with you whining as he jostled you, only quieting down when he pulled you back into the warmth of his arms. The two of you had stayed there for another half an hour, drifting in and out of consciousness before your stomach rumbled, effectively declaring that it was time to get out of bed and start working on breakfast. Charles knew you didn’t usually like to eat in the mornings, claiming that it made you feel slightly nauseous, but that you were an absolute sucker for a good cup of coffee and waffles, so he set out to make exactly that whilst you were in the shower.

It was not going well, to say the least. He’d even pulled up a waffle recipe on his phone, specifying to Google that he needed one that was beginner friendly. It had started out well, with him grabbing all the ingredients listed, even going so far as to grab the measuring cups you used when you baked the vanilla cookies he loved so much; and then he actually had to start putting everything together. He’d ended up cracking the first egg with far too much force, causing it to spill all over his hand, with slivers of the shell ending up in the bowl below. Once he had fished out the infuriatingly small pieces out of the egg mixture and added the milk, he got to work measuring out the flour, only to misjudge how heavy the bag was, and spilling it all over the counter and himself. He was stood stock still, face stuck in disbelief when you had walked in, freezing as you took in the scene unfolding in your kitchen.

“Oh, my love” was all you’d managed to get out, before you were making your way over to him, brushing your thumb across his cheek and saying “You’ve got a little something there.”

Once the breakfast disaster was cleaned, and you had taken over to make edible waffles, the two of you had migrated to the living room, curling up on the couch under your favourite fluffy blanket, armed with snacks to start a movie marathon. Sundays during summer break were reserved for snacking on salted caramel ice cream and brain-rotting romcoms, and it was tradition for you and Charles to bicker over which movie was put on first. Charles knew he would give in after the first minute of arguing, when you pulled out the big guns and flashed a sweet smile at him, and today was no different. He was glad it was no different.

The day had passed in a haze of kisses, sweet fruit and good wine. The weather was beautiful, wonderfully warm with a light breeze, and Charles had stated that it was the perfect night for a picnic under the stars on his yacht, ushering you in the direction of your room, telling you to get dressed. He grabbed a few more bottles of the wine you had been loving in the last couple of days, cutting up fruits and cubes of cheese for your impromptu picnic, before packing it all up into a small basket you could take with you. You’d come out of the bedroom in a white summer dress, and Charles felt his heart stop at the sight of you. You looked ethereal, like his own personal angel, and he told you as much, before gently taking hold of your hand and leading you to his car, picnic basket in hand.

You had been out on the water for an hour or so when you had leaned into Charles, your head resting on his shoulder, arms wrapped around his. He’d looked down at you and smiled, all dimples and warmth, before leaning down and kissing you softly, his lips just brushing over yours. You’d settled in and were sharing your second bottle of wine, looking up at the stars and talking about everything and nothing, the topic of your conversation ranging from who could find the most constellations to new recipes you wanted to try out the next time you had the chance. Charles was watching you ramble about a new cake recipe that you’d seen (or was it pie? He was hardly paying attention, too caught up in the way your eyes lit up and the way your cheeks flushed) when he just blurted it out.

“I love you.”

You had stopped midway through your sentence, words suddenly sticking to the inside your throat as you gazed up at him. He was looking at you with glazed eyes, the stars reflected in them, and panicking because what if you didn’t say it back? What if he had misread the situation so badly and had ended up ruining a perfectly good day because he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself like-

“I love you too.”

And just like that, the breath was knocked out of his chest. You loved him. Him, Charles Leclerc, you loved him. He wanted to hear those words every single day, every morning when he woke up, every night before he went to sleep, every day for the rest of his life.

“Say it again”, he begged, needing to make sure you were really saying that you loved him, and this wasn’t just some sick, twisted dream, a figment of his imagination. You repeated it in hushed whisper, again and again, watching as the dimpled smile you had come to adore grew on his face, before pushing yourself up and kissing him again.

Yes, today had been the perfect day.

[pancakes4two]

surprise surprise… here’s a part 2 for private!y/n 🫶🫶🫶🫶 thank you for all the love on the first blurb and for leaving so many sweet comments!

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART | MASTERLIST | SEND ME A REQUEST

harryleaked

8,828 likes

harryleaked leaked photos from harry’s rumored girlfriend’s instagram.

posted yesterday with the caption: “mother, father & son”

View all 1,355 comments

harryfan1 you shouldn’t be spreading this around. delete it please before more people see

harryfan wait what happened

harryfan1 she accidentally accepted someone’s follow request. they’re spreading all the pics from her instagram on twitter now.

harryfan oh wow

harryfan4 yeah they’re def dating it’s over for us

harryfan3 DELETE

harryfan2 guys stop engaging with the post it’s only going to gain more traction if you do. dm the account if you want them to stop don’t like or comment

harryleaked

9,977 likes

harryleaked more photos from harry’s rumored girlfriend’s instagram.

posted this july with the caption: “the wait was worth it for this v v v belated valentine’s day date”

harry also commented: “Better late than never?”

View all 3,567 comments

harryfan1 wtf she has the prettiest smile

harryfan5 so it’s confirmed confirmed

harryfan6 this july… he had a show in paris… he took her on a date in the city of love…

harryfan7 UR SO RIGHT WTF WHAT A HOPELESS ROMANTIC

harryfan guys seriously stop bringing attention to it. i know this is a shock to everyone but we’re helping nobody by talking about it so publicly. especially since harry and her clearly don’t want their relationship to be public right now

rollingstone

156,739 likes

rollingstone What is it like navigating relationships as the most wanted man in the world?

Harry Styles speaks to Rolling Stone about love and privacy, two concepts that are frequently in contention for someone who has reached the level of stardom that he has.

“It can feel a little voyeuristic, at times. I think obviously at the end of the day, all anyone wants to do is to be able to love freely and openly. That’s harder to achieve when you’re under the scrutiny of the entire world. So, I like to keep parts of my relationship to myself. We basically built a wall of privacy that we could safely love each other behind. And while that isn’t ideal, it’s what works for us. Obviously, I think it goes without saying that it’s disheartening when people try to peel back the layers we’ve carefully constructed to protect our relationship.” He says, hinting at private photos that leaked online recently, which forced him to go public with girlfriend Y/N L/N.

Visit the link in our bio to read the full interview.

View all 20,473 comments

harryfan1 DAMN y’all need to apologize to him right now bc he’s neverrrrr called us out this openly before and we’ve done a lot of out of pocket shit historically. he’s MAD mad

harryfan why do i feel like i just got put in time out

harryfan3 EVERYONE SAY SORRY HARRY

harryfan2 like what did i say? harries can never just be serious and look what happened because of it

harrystan y’all don’t know common courtesy and got yelled at because of it LOL

harryfan9 another day of harries ruining everything

harryfan8 anyways… he looks so good in this pic

yournewinstagram

Liked by harrysnewfinsta, yourbff and 10 others

yournewinstagram ok girls let’s try this again 🫵🏻❤️‍🔥🎀⚡️🌈

View all 5 comments

yourbff BACK & MORE PRIVATE THAN EVER

yournewinstagram that’s the first and last time you’ll see me on enews

harrysnewfinsta Hey can you see my comment? Is this working?

yournewinstagram yes harry it’s working.

harrysnewfinsta Ha! Tech whiz Styles

[luveline]

Hi jade I’m the anon that asked about the non zombie au Steve blurbs! I just thought of a story idea: Steve with a gf that’s recovering from ED?

hi babe!! hope this is ok<3 fem!reader

cw implied eating disorder recovery

"Ready?" Steve asks. 

You lean back in his bed and cross your arms over your tummy. "No… are you sure we have to go? I'd way rather stay and watch a movie here. Please?" 

"Please," he says back. "I really wanna see this one, he's, like, a tomb raider."

"You realise there were two movies before this one, right?"

"Yeah, but I didn't know you knew that. I think you'll like it too, babe. You think that Ford guy is handsome." 

"I think you're handsome, and I can see you right here." 

Steve takes his jacket off. As soon as he does you feel awful, throwing your legs over the side of the bed to stop him undressing further. "I'm kidding. I'll go. Come on, you're right, Harrison Ford is really handsome." 

"Are you sure?" he asks, jacket held in his hands loosely. "I know you haven't been feeling the best, so if you don't wanna go, it's fine. We can go later in the week." 

"I– I don't wanna–" You hate stammering around him, but admitting how you feel about this carries an awkward weight. A fettering kind of shame. "We'll have, like, nachos and popcorn and stuff, and movie food is really–" 

"I get it," he says, nodding.

Steve puts the jacket down on his dresser and grabs your hand, pulling you back enough to sit with him again on the bed. Sheets crumple under your hands. You're in for a Harrington pep talk, you can tell. You need it so much you don't try to fight it.

"Stuff like that sets me off," you mumble, though he already knows, "and I've had a really good week this week, I don't wanna ruin it." 

"The week isn't ruined if you have a slip up, you know that," Steve says gently.

It's just hard. Even though he loves you. Even though he understands. It's raw to be seen at what you feel is your worst, while you trust Steve to be kind about it, because something tells you that your worst is the worst. You know you aren't lesser for having this problem, but knowing and feeling don't align when it comes to this. 

"I don't want to go somewhere that's going to make you feel shitty, though, seriously," he says, his arm slipping behind your back. He kisses your cheek, and speaks warmly in your ear, "if you don't feel like you can do it tonight, then you don't have to." 

"This is silly. I can't keep interrupting our lives because I'm worried about how eating butter is going to make me feel." 

Steve rubs your back. "Don't do that, honey. You don't have to make it smaller than it feels."

"Steve," you say quietly. 

"I know this isn't small for you. I promise it's not small for me, either, and it isn't disrupting my life. You getting better is a thousand times more important to me than seeing a movie, so if you feel like you can't be there, we won't go." 

"Are you sure?" you ask. 

Steve hugs you. "Yeah. Yeah, of course I am. I'm proud of you. Not everyone understands it, I know, 'n' I know that makes it harder, but I'm on your side." He pulls away to make sure he's said the right thing. 

You smile at him fondly, reaching up to brush rogue strands of hair off of his forehead.

"Let's stay here and have the dinner we planned," he says, nodding hopefully. 

You nod back. "Okay… Thanks, Stevie. I promise we'll see the movie soon." 

"That's alright. I don't like that you knew that guy's first name anyway. Can't have a movie star stealing my girl, I can't compete with that." 

You snort and flick his arm. He flicks you back. 

"You sweep him completely," you tell him. 

The total and inarguable truth. You don't need a movie star when you have him. Steve hugs you again, this time pushing you down into bed to rub his face against yours. "That's what I like hearing."

[uramilf]

Anything to do with Ross + fluff please 🙏 🥹🤭❤️🎀😍😘

Yes THANK YOU I have been in a Ross mood recently but I’m sick af so I’m going to reflect my current mood in this blurb 🥰

Ross didn’t want to leave you. He really didn’t. But he didn’t exactly have a choice, either. The tour was coming to an end, and his fans would go crazy if he wasn’t at the show. They couldn’t find another bassist at such short notice anyway. So he pressed one last kiss to your sweaty forehead and left you shivering in bed in the unfamiliar hotel room.

“Baby?” you called after him. “Don’t rush home, I’m ok. Go to the after party and have fun.”“Absolutely not,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll be back here before you know it.”

With that he was gone, off to the venue with the guys. He barely stopped texting you until half 8 on the dot, making sure you were ok every five minutes. The second he left the stage during “When We Are Together” he texted you again. You watched the entire livestream, of course, and people went crazy when they saw your Instagram username appear in the comment section with a heart emoji when Ross and Matty had one of their cute little moments. You imagined it would be the talk of Twitter the next day.

At almost midnight, Ross returned to the hotel room to find you fast asleep in the exact spot he left you in six hours prior.

“Wake up, baby,” he murmured, shaking your shoulder lightly. “I’m back.”

You rolled over to face your boyfriend, a smile forming on your half-asleep face.

“Hi darling. I watched the whole show, you were great.” You were still coughing and sniffling, causing Ross to frown.

“You could’ve been getting some sleep, pretty girl. You still not feeling good?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, I’ll let you get back to sleep then,” Ross sighed, wishing it were him instead of you.

“No, not without you!” you pouted.

“Alright, give me two minutes then,” he smiled softly, secretly thrilled to hear that you don’t want to go to sleep without him being beside you.

A few minutes later he was back, in a pair of plaid pyjama trousers and an old Ramones t-shirt, climbing into bed beside you. He pulled you close straight away, kissing every part of your face and neck he could reach.

“Quit that, you’ll get sick!”

“Don’t care,” he mumbled, head buried into your chest now.

“Are the other guys out partying then?” you giggled softly, gently taking your boyfriend’s hair down and teasing his long locks through your fingers. He sighed in relief as you scratched at his head gently.

“Matty and George have gone out. No clue where, though, and I think Polly’s with them. Adam’s gone back to his room to call Carly. Not sure about everyone else.”

You continued to play with his long hair until he was practically snoring in your arms, making you laugh every couple of minutes. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep too though, feeling much better, and safer, now that Ross was back beside you where he belonged.

[the1975attheirverybest]

ohmygod blurb this pleeaaseeee https://twitter.com/strghtoutamag/status/1684421064888307712?s=46&t=xaBoZPI0h5lkCj6vqL_9cg

Ok, even though requests are closed. I'm a people pleaser and don't know how to set boundaries, so here you go. it's a bit short.

warnings: none

---

"Hey baby?" Matty settled into the makeshift seat he'd assumed on the toilet cover, leaning his back against the cold bathroom wall and smiling up at her as she scoured her makeup bag in front of the mirror.

"mhm." she mumbled an acknowledgement of his presence, keeping her eyes on her mascara tubes and concealer bottles.

"you're pretty." he chirped, giggling to himself.

"Thanks, Matty." she looked down at the products she'd assembled to make sure she had everything: primer, foundation, concealer, eyebrow pencil, eyeshadow palettes, highlighter and blush combo, lip liner and lipstick, and, of course, mascara.

"No, I mean, you're pretty. You don't need- all THAT" he crossed his legs and pointed to her assembly line. "don't need makeup at all."

she turned to face him, cracking a smile as soon as their eyes met, and blowing him a kiss before turning back to the mirror again.

"I know I don't. I'm stunning. I just do it cuz I like it, not cuz I wanna be pretty."

Matty clapped dramatically shouting out praise and calling her a queen. She chuckled, shaking her head as his applause echoed around the bathroom.

"What's all this, anyway?" he asked as the noise that he'd caused died down.

"You've worn makeup before! You know how it is."

"I usually just put on a bit of color on my eyelids, some lipstick, and called it a day. You....look like you're discovering a new chemical element.... for example, what's that invisible shit that you're putting on right now? I never did that."

It was hard for her not to laugh and pause her precise application and delicate brush work every time Matty spoke. "That's a primer. you put it on before your makeup so that it stays on."

Matty took in her explanation, mulling it over in silence for a moment. She thought she'd satisfied his curiosity, but he spoke again. "like pre-treating a canvas before painting?"

"exactly."

" is that why i used to look like someone had punched me in the eye by the end of every gig back when I wore makeup?"

"sure...let's go with that explanation." she gave him a playful smile through their reflections in the mirror.

"what step are you on now?" he asked, his eyes studying her movements with the reverence of a child looking up at their parents. It was endearing how invested her was.

"Why don't you come over here. Wanna try this stuff? I could do your face..."

"really?" to her surprise, Matty was on his feet instantly.

A willing subject at first, Matty giggled and squirmed whenever her makeup brushes "tickled" his face. It definitely doesn't take her that long to do her own face.

"Alright, all done. you can look in the mirror now." she clasped her hands together, proud of her inspired work. "do you like it?"

"...wow." Matty's lips rounded as he studied himself in the mirror. "I look- I'm glowing. Fuck and the way you made those colors look like they blend together- it's- i'm gorgeous." He turned his face to one side then the other, admiring himself from all angles, then messing with his hair a bit.

"Okay, just let me take a picture of you first, before you wash it off."

He frowned, turning to look at her as she pulled out her phone.

"wash it off? why would I wash it off? after allll that work you put into it-"

"what, you're gonna be seen in public with a full face of makeup on?"

"it's called glam" he made a gesture of flipping his hair. "and, yeah, why the fuck not?"

[lukehughesbabymama]

Matthew Knies blurb

Straight out of packing up your dorm at Minnesota, you were flying out to Toronto to see Matthew, whom you haven't seen in person since the day he had moved out to the same place you were headed. Emotions were running high as you had just departed from your best friends for the summer, and were going to see your boyfriend for the first time in a few weeks.

You were planning on staying in a hotel, but as the whole trip was planned quite last minute, most rooms were booked by fans hoping to watch the same playoff games you would be seeing Matt in. Luckily, John and his wife were more than happy to let you stay with them under the condition that the two of you stayed in separate rooms. You found this reasonable, but Matt displayed intense stress when you had discussed it over FaceTime last week.

“But baby”, he said rubbing his eyes in frustration, “there's barely going to be any time for us to be alone anyways” he complained.

“First of all”, you pause to focus on curling the next strand of your hair, “We don't really have any other option for me to stay at, so it is what it is”, you redirect you eyes to you phone that was propped up in front of you to see Matt with his chin resting on his crossed arms, visibly worked up over what you thought was not too big of a deal. “And second”, you began, “you're going to be so busy and tired that anything we could have done in a hotel room we can still do at their house”.

He groaned and replied “Okay yeah. But when are we gonna.. you know...” widening his eyes to insinuate  what the rest of his question would have been.

“Oh my God Matthew”, you roll your eyes as your roommate laughs in the background.

He laughs slightly and defends himself “Seriously, y/n, I haven't seen you in weeks, its like top priority”

“Oh”, you scoff at the last little line he decided to add on, “Ok honey. You know, for a second there I thought you really might miss me but, thanks for keeping me humble” you retort sarcastically.

“Stop”, he states, breaking away from the bit you two had going, becoming serious again, “You know I miss you”. His eyes fall and his face softens.

“I know Matty. I’ll see you soon.”, your voice a little sweeter than before.

“You know what else we’ll be doing soon?”, his eyes lighting up as a grin appears on his face.

“Hm?”, you answer once again immersed in finishing your hair rather than whatever stupid ass comment this boy was about to make next.

“Fucking”, he mouthed silently while sitting up and doing a grinding motion. His smile widened as he saw your eyes glance at the camera and your head shake disapprovingly.

k byeeee 😭

[jo-harrington]

Gratia. (An As Above, So Below Story)

Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace. Charity. Peace. The oath of the Knights of the Holy Order.

Summary: You and Eddie-- separated by time and endless suffering--don't realize how many strings keep you connected on the web of fate. What players are there trying to cut those strings? And when will you both find out that they are unbreakable?

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (The Knight - Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Soulmates, Kas!Eddie, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Minor Character Deaths, Manipulation, Transformation, Corruption, Supernatural Encounters, Religious Elements, Criticism of Religion, Biblical and Other Literary and Pop Culture References

Note: So...originally this was going to be one long thing. A tale about the Knight and Eddie and their unbreakable bond. And I wavered about how relevant it would be to the larger story. How relevant are any of these blurbs to the larger story? But if there's anything I've learned writing AASB, it's that I'm really writing the whole thing for myself. And after finding myself in an odd state of grief that kind of just keeps getting worse over the weekend, I know that this little fic...and the two that follow...really are only going to just be for me to help me get through it, so I need to be true to myself and write them anyway. **So if you do read this, please know it can be read in tandem with As Above, So Below. And you should have at least read the Prequels, with maybe some bonus points for Genesis. Iif you've read the Hymns, this is set before Nachzehrer.**

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

“God is a comedian playing to an audience that is too afraid to laugh.” ― Voltaire

November 10, 1986

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"She's not suffering anymore. Tranquilla."

"Thank you, I know. She's been sick for a long time. She's at rest now."

"Mom brought mostaccioli. And chicken cutlets. She's setting it up in the other room then she'll be over. You should get some, you need to eat."

"I'll be alright, thank you for coming."

Today was the final day that you would spend with your Nonna.

Well, a more accurate description was that they let you have it.

Let you.

Let you have one day to sit on that stiff funeral home sofa. To stare at her, unrecognizably still in her casket, as friends and neighbors swarmed to offer their condolences. To mourn with you.

But somehow also separately from you.

And tomorrow, after she was behind a cold slab of marble, you'd be off again. Creeping closer to your own death until one day you might be placed in a plot adjacent to her.

Together.

But not really.

If there was anything left of you.

It wouldn't do to think of that today though.

Today, you would sit here. Enjoy your break and bask in the remnants of her soul that still lingered in and around her body.

It brought you some comfort to feel it move the way she did.

It danced like she danced around the kitchen, the boundaries of it crinkling like the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth. A phantasmic remnant of her lovingly worried gaze was on you every now and again, creating the urge to say "I'm ok Nonnie." To lie to her, like you always did. And whenever one of her friends knelt their own aging bodies to pray at her side, you could practically see the softness of her cushion their jagged edges, comforting them.

You didn’t dare go up yourself though.

Not yet.

Not unless you wanted the Funeral Director to haul you out of the casket because somewhere deep down you just wanted to crawl into it with her and scream,

“Take me with you. Don’t leave me like I left you.”

Because you were not ok.

You closed your eyes as a phantom hand touched your shoulder, as it attempted to soothe the pain deep inside you but only managed to stir up another kind of pain. Another kind of mourning.

If only he was really there, you could ask him to take you with him too. Take you away from here to wherever he and Nonna would wait for you.

An impossible request.

The weight of the sofa shifted beside you and you opened your eyes. You expected to find Fortunata or Antoinette—two of Nonna’s closest friends who could claim a spot beside you if they truly wanted—but instead you found Gabriel’s stiff inhuman posture and expressionless face staring ahead of him at the casket.

“You could have helped her,” you said instead of a greeting. What good would a greeting do? “Healed her.”

You briefly wondered if you'd imagined the corner of his mouth quirking before he spoke.

“And if I told you I had? If I spared her a worse fate? Lessened her pain? Lessened yours?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Then I won’t tell you.”

You turned back to watch the casket with an unsatisfied hum.

Time passed and you sat silently together as you fought to keep your emotions in check with Gabriel's presence. You weren't nervous, per se; more annoyed. Angry, even. Questioning why he was here on this day out of all days.

All your life, you explained away his presence as a guardian. Unseen and unknown to everyone but you. He used to protect you or so you could recall, but as you got older that seemed to stop.

And he was more of a harbinger of doom than a deterrent of it.

Well, not doom.

Fate.

Or God's will or some shit like that. You didn't know anymore. Didn't care. You only cared about getting to the finish line. Freeing your soul of this curse. Getting your prize.

Heaven. Home. Peace with the ones you loved.

With Nonna.

With Eddie.

So if Gabriel was here, it meant something was about to happen. Something unsavory. Something...

You blinked and he disappeared from your peripheral vision suddenly, and just beyond the space he had previously occupied, stood a man in a black cassock.

Jinette approached you but you didn't give him the satisfaction of your attention until he said your name and offered his condolences.

"May I sit?" he gestured beside you.

"Seat's taken," you responded coldly.

"Ah, your mother, yes," he nodded in realization, and you watched him pull a chair up from one of the rows behind you.

You wouldn't be the one to tell him that your mother hadn't shown her face since you arrived back in Chicago late last night. She had done her duty, arranged the funeral and called you home. Beyond that her obligation was almost over; she could be free.

There had been a brief moment between the two of you when you let yourself into Nonna's flat and found her at the table surrounded by paperwork and old pictures, and you thought for the briefest second that this might be a turning point. That she might exhume whatever love she used to have for you, buried so deep in her heart, so you wouldn't have to mourn alone.

Instead she said she was sorry, then kissed your cheek and left.

And really you only had yourself to blame at the disappointment that punctuated the interaction. How could you have expected anything more than that when the bar was already set so low?

"California is a long way to come just for funeral rites," you said once Jinette was settled.

"I'm afraid that's not what I'm here for."

"Then to attend a funeral of a very devout woman," you amended.

"I'm not here for that either." You would give it to him, the remorse plastered on his features almost looked sincere. "Unfortunately, there is a very dire situation and the Order is in need of your experti--"

"No," you cut him off swiftly. "Tomorrow. You can ask me to go tomorrow. Not today."

The usual coldness of his gaze returned and he addressed you stiffly.

"You cannot refuse. Must not. This is your duty."

You turned to him, hand shooting from your lap of its own volition to grab his robe and pull him close enough that your noses practically touched.

The funeral goers around you began to murmur--your Nonna's friends whispering in fear and shame, saying a prayer to spare them of whatever wrath would befall you for defying and possibly harming his eminence--but you ignored them.

You knew you might pay for it later, but for now your rage was warranted.

"Don't lecture me about duty," you hissed at Jinette. "My entire life has been about duty. Her life too. If you want me to go? You'll beg me. Not guilt me. But I promise that the answer will still be no."

Something wicked flickered inside of you, and you wondered if you could smite Jinette. Just a little bit. If you could channel the deep-rooted grudge against your plight and let him feel the consequences that waited to befall someone who had nurtured it.

Then you felt a slight disturbance in the room.

The calm of Nonna's soul was shaken from its bliss, and you could practically hear the sharp, punishing clicks of her tongue as you fisted Jinette's robe tighter and tighter. The flame of the candles beside her casket flickered, the leaves on the flower arrangements that filled the room began to wilt, and the whispers around you got louder until they roared in your ears.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as the feeling of Nonna's disappointment surrounded you--filled you--and you fought it for as long as you could.

But if anyone here was going to reprimand you in this room, in this world, it would be her.

You let Jinette go and fell back into the couch with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. He heaved several heavy breaths and patted his chest pathetically.

"Tomorrow," you told him as Nonna's soul and the murmurs of the people around you settled back down into a serene silence.

The tears finally fell after he left, and you closed your eyes as Eddie's ghostly touch softly wiped them away.

"Tomorrow..."

November 6, 1983

Twang.

He enjoyed it.

Twang.

Enjoyed plucking the guitar strings and letting the reverberation travel along his fingertips and into the very core of him.

Twang.

Deep down in that dark pit where you seemed to hide, every note was like a starburst of brightness and good feelings. Things so foreign and forgotten to him now, yet still so integral to Eddie Munson.

He wasn't Eddie anymore though.

So he resented the fact that he enjoyed it so much.

"Play something," you would whisper in those hidden depths, like a devil on his shoulder, and he constantly fought the temptation to follow that urge. "Play me a song, I know you know how."

He never gave in though.

Could never give in.

It was bad enough that he hid you from Henry, that he even listened to you at all. But feeling something--doing something--was better than feeling nothing in the boring, timeless eternal void of the Upside Down. So he would allow himself these brief visits to the trailer, he would tolerate your soft words and the ever-present softness of the ghost that seemed to haunt him here, so he could pluck a few twangs of the guitar strings and bask in the sparks of euphoria they would bring.

And it was enough. It had to be enough.

Then, when he got bored or hungry or irritated by you, away he would go again.

"I would argue that me being annoying is the reason you still keep me around."

He hissed at you and pulled his hands away from the guitar spitefully.

Twang.

He watched as one of the strings seemed to pluck itself and debated whether he could reach out and take a swipe at you, but there was a sudden pain beneath his sternum. Odd, seeing as he barely felt pain in this body now. He clicked his claws together contemplatively, then hesitantly rubbed at it to soothe the ache, and as he did, he felt the echoes of your soft sigh somewhere deep inside him.

He faltered for a moment, unsure if he should feel some sort of satisfaction that he had comforted you, or resentment that he had fallen for it.

He hated you. Hated your presence there. Hated that you were somehow here when you left him to this fate. Hated that you made him weak again when Henry had remade him to be strong. Infallible.

You might very well be his downfall one day.

And still he couldn't fathom being without you again.

He growled deeply and, unexpectedly, the trailer shook around him, walls clattering, remnants of knick knacks falling.

For a moment, he watched it in awe. Believed that he was the cause of it. That the power Henry had helped him unlock had been activated with his spite.

Until everything started to shake.

The Upside Down became unsettled, the very ground beneath him shifting with some seismic agitation. Roiling and churning, changing.

There was a cacophony of restlessness through the collective consciousness as all of the creatures of the Upside Down felt the disturbance. As Henry felt the disturbance and questioned its origin, because it had not been of his design.

Almost immediately, he was singled out amongst the masses, ordered to his Master's side.

Who else could find the cause of this turmoil than Henry's right hand? His loyal servant? The Beast he created to strike on his behalf, to herald in the end?

Eddie didn't hesitate.

He left the trailer and took flight swiftly and dutifully, beating his wings powerfully to get to Henry as quickly as he could.

To get away from you as quickly as he could.

You and your comfortable constant presence in the respite of the trailer.

“Do not be afraid. Our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.” ― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

[nanaooyoo]

nct haechan oneshot

Haechan’s tired after their concert and wants a massage. This is just a short thing I wrote, barely an imagine barely a time stamp. Lmk if I should write after tour blurbs for any other members or any ideas you have. Should I expand on this? Anyways enjoy✨

warnings/headsup: none really • fluff • slightly suggestive • short • not really proofread • gender neutral reader • 1.1k words

Helping Hands: Haechan x Reader pt.I/I

1:27am

“Seriously babe I feel like I’m going to collapse! Everything hurts all over…” Haechan whines as he drags his feet entering the hotel room. He drops a duffel bag off of his arm and onto the floor without a second thought.

You smile a bit, a tinge of sympathy on your face as you follow your boyfriend into the room. Though he’s prone to exaggeration, you know there’s an element of truth to what he’s saying. Maybe he triggered the fever a little too hard towards the end there, or actually sprained a wrist dancing in that glass box while telling you all to quiet down. Dancing is hard and takes a lot of energy and you know Haechan isn’t the kind of guy to ever go easy if it’s for the fans. You feel bad for him but proud at the same time. You want to tell him how special and talented he is but instead you say:

“Well, you shouldn’t over exert yourself.” You say picking up his duffel bag and neatly placing it out of the way of foot traffic.

“Yeah I know.” He says. He goes to drag a large squishy brown leather chair turning it towards the large window overlooking the city and plopping down onto it. “Just trying to make it a good show. The best show! Every time…”

“I’m worried about you Haechannie. It’s not like you’ve been feeling your best lately.”

“I’m fine… I’ll be fine”. He trails off. He takes off his black sweatshirt that matches his black sweatpants and places it on the arm rest of the chair. He tugs at the white t-shirt he has on, trying to create a current of air between the fabric and his skin.

“Are you sure you wanted to skip dinner with the guys? Or do you just want to go to sleep? Should I run you a bath? Or maybe you just want to get into bed… do you wanna get into bed?” You had a tendency to worry a bit too much ever since your partner had a bit of a health scare.

“I just wanted to spend time with you love.” He laughs leaning back into the cushy seat and sighing. “But if you really want to make me feel better you could give me a massage.” He says.

You scoff a bit just imagining the cheeky smile on his face as he’s turned away from you. You can almost make out the smirk in the reflection of the glass as you approach. “Ok fine” you say, feigning more annoyance than you actually feel.

“Thanks babe, my shoulders are killing me.” Haechan says getting even more comfortable in his chair.

You trudge up behind him and peer over the head rest before Haechan meets your gaze and gives you an expectant look. You gently place you hands on his shoulders and give them a little squeeze. He winces a bit and closes his eyes so you pause. A second later his eyes are still closed but he gives you the silent go ahead to continue. A little nod prompts you to squeeze harder. Haechan’s eyebrows knit together as he takes a sharp inhale with almost every movement of your fingers, pushing and prodding and massaging at his shoulder blades. He’s enjoying it that’s for sure. Almost a little too much.

“Should I stop”? You ask, fake concern in your voice. You continue to slowly work your fingers along his clavicle and then just above his tricep making sure to really press the pads of your fingers into the skin.

“No, keep going…” your boyfriend replies, still unable to open his eyes as if he’s under some sort of spell, entranced by the expert movement of your massaging hands.

“I feel like I might be hurting you.” You say half joking, pressing harder.

“You are… but I… I like it” he trails off again as you lean over the headrest pressing your elbow into the base of his neck. He lets out a low groan as if quietly begging for more.

“Sir you seem to have a lot of tension built up in your muscle here and here. It’s not good to keep things bottled up like that for so long”. You tease. Haechan was always one for a bit of role play.

“Oh really? Well I’m not surprised I’ve been on the road for months and haven’t seen my partner since I left. Poor thing, living without me for so long. Im sure they’re just as tense and pent up as I am.”

“Your partner sounds very lucky. I’m sure they are missing you quite a bit”. You say, voice a little lower, hands a little softer as they trail downward a bit landing squarely flat again Haechan’s chest. You leave them there for a moment just sensing the rising and falling of his breath. Then you start to pull away.

“Wait?” Haechan reaches back to grab one of your arms. He’s still seated with eyes still closed. “I said I wanted you to keep going.” He whines, tightening a grip on your wrist and pulling your hand back over his shoulder and onto his chest. You look forward at his reflection in the window. He looks so relaxed almost half asleep. Head tilted to the side legs wide apart. “We were just getting to the good part.”

“What’s the good part?” You ask.

Haechan just snickers a bit at your willful ignorance. And starts to inch your hand lower and lower down his chest millimeter by millimeter, inch by inch, closer to his stomach. “Well mostly the whole thing is good, but you know…the good part”

You let out parallel laughs as you free your hand from his grip. “C’mon hotshot, you’re barely awake as is we can continue this tomorrow or something”.

“Seriously?”

“Yes seriously! The guys’ll be back any minute and I’m not gonna be in here caught with our pants down.”

“You’re no fun! Who says I don’t want to be caught with my pants down!”

“Yeah yeah whatever. If you get into bed I’ll massage you until you fall asleep”

Your boyfriend stands up as fast as a half asleep twenty something can stand up and worms his way into the covers of the large hotel bed. He lays back and smiles over at you. “Okay, ready”. He says like a child preparing really good bedtime story

You hop up onto the bed kneeling next to him and give him a small peck on his forehead, and then his nose, and then his lips. You place your hands back onto his shoulders and start to work your magic again as Haechan gently starts dozing off.

-🍌🍶