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helen-with-an-a · 2 days

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Will there be a second part of "Be The Best" where the girls help the reader. But at some point, the father comes and says that the reader needs to become even better, but the girls stand up for him and drive him away.

Or where the reader turns out to be a good person and tries to make friends with everyone, but it turns out to be awkward.

Hiiiii - so this is a little sadder than I anticipated but I quite like it. I might make a pt3 I'm not to sure - what do you guys think/if you have any reqs for it? Also please just imagine that there's like a foresty/woodsy type bit at Colney

Be the Best pt 2

AWFC x reader ; Leah Williamson x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3

Description: R has some self-realisation after trying to make friends

Word count: 4.6k

You had never felt so stupid in your life. Why? Why had you done that? Tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over, as you walked. You couldn’t let them fall. No emotion. The best don’t feel emotion.

It was lunch time, a time you usually spent eating alone before going on a walk around Colney, usually ending up in the gym. After much reassurance from Kim, you had finally worked up enough courage to approach some of the team. Kim had made it sound so simple – just walk up to them and ask if you could join. You had rehearsed it in your mind a dozen times, mentally preparing for every possible reaction.

But when you finally stood there, tray in hand, in front of the group of girls who seemed to belong to an entirely different world, everything went wrong. They were sitting in the corner of the canteen, their laughter and chatter like a bubble you had no idea how to penetrate. You were so sure you looked ridiculous – just standing there, awkward and unsure, as if you had no right to even be in their presence.

“Can I sit?” you grunted, the words leaving your mouth almost of their own accord. As soon as they were out, you regretted them. You kept your eyes glued to the tray in your hands, desperately avoiding the gazes you could feel boring into you. The food on your tray – the food that looked so nice when you picked it out, looked bland and unappetising now – suddenly became the most fascinating thing in the world. Anything to avoid looking up, to avoid seeing their reactions.

The silence that followed was suffocating. It stretched on, a tangible force pressing down on you, making you feel smaller and smaller with each passing second. The confidence you had painstakingly built up with Kim's encouragement was slipping away, like sand through your fingers. You had never felt so out of place, so exposed, as you did in that moment, standing there waiting for a response that never came.

Finally, you risked a glance up and caught Kyra’s wide, terrified eyes staring back at you. Did you really scare her that much? The thought sent a jolt of anxiety through you. Were you that terrifying that a simple question had her so scared? Was she always this afraid of you? You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, feeling more awkward by the second.

Alessia and Lotte exchanged concerned glances, their silent communication only adding to your growing unease. You could see the tension in their faces, the way they seemed to be trying to figure out what to do with you, as if your mere presence was some kind of problem they had to solve. Vic, who had always seemed so confident and collected, visibly gulped, her nervousness painfully clear.

No one spoke. No one moved. The entire canteen seemed to have dropped into a wary silence, as if the whole room was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. It was like a switch had flipped, and suddenly you were the centre of attention. The air was thick with unease, the kind that made your skin prickle and your heart pound.

What the fuck were you doing? The question echoed in your mind, growing louder with each passing second. You couldn’t sit with them. You didn’t belong there, in their world, no matter how much you wanted to. The realisation hit you like a punch to the gut, and the embarrassment that followed was almost too much to bear. You don’t need to sit with them, you told yourself, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left.

And then, just as quickly as you had convinced yourself to approach, you mumbled something unintelligible – a mix between an apology and an excuse that even you couldn’t understand – and turned on your heel. The shame was like a weight on your back, driving you away from the table, away from the awkward silence that had frozen you in place.

You walked as quickly as you could without breaking into a run, your feet carrying you away. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel the burn of tears threatening to spill over, but you forced them back, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat.

You continued walking out of the canteen, your footsteps quick and unsteady, the tray of food abandoned on a random table near the door in your haste to get away. The clatter of the tray as it hit the table echoed in your ears, but you didn’t care. You just needed to escape. The walls of the canteen felt like they were closing in on you, the stares of the other students—real or imagined—burning into your back.

The gym. That’s what you would normally do to squash the feelings down. It was your sanctuary, the one place where everything made sense, where you could channel everything into something physical, something real. There was nothing like running until you felt like your legs were going to give out, or punching the bags hanging in the corner until your arms ached and your hands were bloody. Pain was something you could deal with; it was tangible, controllable. The emotions, though – they were a different beast entirely. The best didn’t feel emotions. You had told yourself that so many times it had become a mantra. Emotions made you weak, and you couldn’t afford to be weak. Not now, not ever.

But you would be easily found in the gym. It was the first place anyone would look, and you couldn’t bear the thought of someone finding you like this – sweaty, shaking, and teetering on the edge of a breakdown. You didn’t want to be found. You couldn’t let anyone see the cracks in the armour you’d worked so hard to build. Not now, not after what had just happened. You had embarrassed yourself in front of the team, made a fool of yourself by going against your instincts, by trying to reach out and connect when you knew better.

You needed to find somewhere to hide, somewhere you could lick your wounds in peace. The locker room was out of the question – too many people coming and going, too many chances for awkward questions and pitying looks. The thought of facing anyone right now was unbearable.

You found yourself heading for the back exit of the gym, the one that led out to the far side of the training grounds. It was quieter there, the paths less travelled, especially at this time of day. You pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool air, the breeze hitting your face like a slap. You bit your lip, the pain momentarily distracting you from the hurt of your stupidity. The coolness of the air was a sharp contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside, and for a moment, it felt like you could finally breathe again.

The gravel crunched beneath your shoes, the sound oddly satisfying, grounding you in the present. You weren’t entirely sure where you were going, but you didn’t care. You just needed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and the people inside. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You bit your lip even harder, tasting iron on your tongue. The best don’t feel emotions. The best don’t need friends. The best train and work hard. The best practice until they physically drop. You didn’t need anyone else, didn’t need to put yourself in situations where you felt so exposed. So why had you allowed yourself to think, even for a moment, that this time might be different?

The girls’ faces flashed in your mind – Kyra’s wide, startled eyes, Alessia and Lotte’s concerned glances, Vic’s visible gulp. The sudden silence of the canteen echoed in your mind. They hadn’t known what to do with you, hadn’t known how to react, and that stung more than you wanted to admit. A solitary tear rolled down your cheek. Besides that day in the media room with Kim, you don’t remember the last time you cried.

Actually, that was a lie. You remember the exact time and place where you last cried. You were 10, you had just received the academy letter that you were to be their second-choice goalkeeper for the Under 12s. You had shown your mum, she had been so excited for you, beckoning your father over to have a look. He had told you it was first choice or nothing. If you weren’t going to be the best, then you shouldn’t even bother. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, clutching the letter so tightly that you woke up with paper cuts. You wanted to prove him wrong, to show him that you could be the best, but that tiny voice in your head, the one that echoed his words, made you doubt yourself. It made you wonder if you’d ever be good enough.

The sky had transitioned from a soft amber glow to a deepening indigo, the kind of blue that swallows the light whole. You had found a bench just off the path, hidden by a canopy of trees that whispered in the evening breeze. The bench was old, the wood splintered and weathered. It was a place where you could disappear, if only for a little while.

You had never missed training before. Not even when you were 18 and had pneumonia. You could still remember that week, the way your chest burned with every breath, your lungs heavy with fluid that rattled every time you inhaled. But you stayed bundled in layers, forcing your body through drills with single-minded determination. Your coach had asked if you were okay, concern flickering across his face, but you’d just nodded, pushing past the exhaustion and pain. You could barely breathe, but missing training wasn’t an option. Not then, and not now. Or at least, that’s what you’d always believed. The best doesn’t show weakness. But today was different. Today, you couldn’t find that strength. The drive that usually pushed you onto the pitch, no matter how tired or sick you were, had vanished. Instead, you felt drained, hollowed out by emotions you didn’t know how to handle.

You shivered slightly, a definite autumnal nip to the late summer evening. The long sleeve top you wore did little to prevent the cold from settling on your skin, but you welcomed the chill. It kept you grounded, made the swirling thoughts in your head a little less chaotic. The cold helped you think, or at least gave you something tangible to focus on when your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

Your mind kept drifting back to Kyra. She had looked so genuinely scared of you. The memory of her wide, startled eyes made your stomach twist with guilt. You’d never seen her like that before – Kyra, who was always so confident, so full of life. She’d looked at you like you were a stranger; someone she didn’t recognise. And maybe, in that moment, you were. Maybe you didn’t recognise yourself either.

You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly as if the pressure could hold you together. The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves above you, and you closed your eyes, letting the sound wash over you. It was peaceful here, away from the noise and the people and the expectations. But the peace was deceptive, fragile. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever. Eventually, you’d have to go back, face the reality of your team. The cold crept deeper into your bones, but you didn’t move. You deserved this discomfort, this numbness.

A tear slipped down your cheek, followed by another. You wiped them away quickly, but more followed, and soon you were crying in earnest, silent sobs that shook your shoulders and left you gasping for breath. You hadn’t cried like this in years, hadn’t allowed yourself to. But now, alone in the dark, surrounded by nothing but trees and the fading light, you let the tears come.

It wasn’t just Kyra’s fear that haunted you, but the realization that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as strong as you thought. The thought was terrifying, a crack in the foundation you’d built your entire life on. If you weren’t the best, if you weren’t unbreakable, then what were you? Who were you?

The tears slowed eventually, leaving you drained and exhausted. You rested your head on your knees, staring blankly at the ground as the darkness settled in around you. The training session was definitely over by now, the team heading back to the locker room, wondering where you were. They’d ask questions tomorrow, they’d want to know why you weren’t there, and you didn’t have any answers to give them.

But for now, you stayed on the bench, hidden away from the world, trying to piece yourself back together. You knew you couldn’t stay here forever, but for a little while longer, you allowed yourself to be weak, to be human. The best doesn’t show weakness – those were the words you’d lived by for so long. You didn’t know how to live without them.

You heard footsteps approaching. Whoever it was, was moving wearily - each step slow and calculated, like trying to approach a frightened animal. Is that what they saw you as? A wounded creature that had to be handled with caution, a volatile presence they needed to tread carefully around to protect themselves? The thought stung more than it should have. You used to like having that barrier. That bubble of self-protection that kept you alive.

You kept your eyes fixed on the ground, not wanting to acknowledge whoever was coming. Maybe if you stayed still, they’d turn back, leave you to your thoughts. But the footsteps continued, growing closer until they finally stopped just a few feet away. You could feel the presence lingering there, the silence heavy between you.

“Hey,” a voice broke through the quiet, soft and hesitant. It was Leah. You didn’t need to look up to know it was her – her voice was unmistakable, that Milton Keynes accent audible even on a single syllable word. You didn’t need to be told why they had sent her to find you. She was your national captain, your club’s vice-captain. You had always respected her.

You didn’t respond immediately. You didn’t really know what to say. You let the silence linger, stretching on to the point where Leah questioned if you even heard her. The silence hung between you, thick and heavy. Leah’s words were gentle, but they carried weight. “You missed training.” It was a simple statement of fact, but it felt like more – a subtle nudge, a reminder of the responsibility you’d momentarily abandoned. You expected her to follow it up with something more – maybe a reprimand, maybe an expectation that you explain yourself. But instead, Leah just sat there, her presence calm and steady.

You could feel her eyes on you, but you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. What could you possibly tell her that she didn’t already know? She had seen what happened in the canteen. She had seen your stupid attempt to make amends. She had seen everything.

But Leah didn’t push. She didn’t demand answers or try to fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she simply waited, giving you the space to speak when you were ready – or not, if that’s what you needed. It was one of the reasons you respected her so much. She understood that sometimes, silence spoke louder than words.

“You don’t have to explain,” Leah finally said, her tone soft, understanding. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That’s all that matters.”

Her words caught you off guard. You’d expected some kind of judgment, some level of disappointment that you’d let the team down, but instead, there was just concern. Genuine concern, not just for the team, but for you. It was a foreign feeling; one you weren’t sure how to process.

“Kim told me that you were thinking of trying to start sitting with people at lunch,” she continued, her voice gentle but probing. There was no judgment in her words, just a simple observation. It was as if she was giving you an opening, a chance to share what was really going on inside your head. But even with the invitation, the words still felt tangled up inside you, too messy to untangle in front of someone else.

You shifted uncomfortably on the bench, the rough wood digging into your legs, grounding you in the present moment. It had seemed like such a simple idea at the time – a small step toward breaking down the walls you’d built around yourself, a way to prove to the team that you were trying, that you wanted to be a part of things. But now, in the cold light of Leah’s concern, it felt almost childish. What had you really expected? That one gesture would erase months of distance, that a seat at the table would magically make everything better?

“Am … am I a bully?” It was something that had been floating around your head all afternoon. No one looked that scared, that nervous of someone unless they had valid cause.

Leah’s eyes widened slightly at your question, and for a moment, she seemed taken aback. But she recovered quickly, her expression softening as she took in the vulnerability behind your words. She didn’t rush to answer, clearly understanding the weight of what you’d just asked.

“No,” she said firmly, her voice gentle but resolute. “You’re not a bully.”

You wanted to believe her, but the doubt still gnawed at you, clawing at the edges of your mind. “My dad’s a bully. And I act like him.”

Leah's expression shifted, her brows furrowing slightly as she processed your words. There was no immediate response, just a thoughtful silence that hung between you. You could see the wheels turning in her mind, the careful consideration she was giving to what you had just said.

“You’re not your dad,” Leah finally said, her voice steady and calm.

“But I act like him.” Your voice held no emotion. These were simple facts. At least in your mind. “He screams and shouts at me for the smallest thing. I shouted at Kyra in a training session. I asked if she was deaf or just stupid. I told her she shouldn’t think. I shout at everyone. I told Alessia she was a waste of money. I said to Laia that she was useless, and I couldn’t understand how she won the World Cup with her defensive skills. I said we were doing better without Laura during her first session back. I told Jen I was glad to see her go because we would make fewer stupid mistakes”

You weren’t proud of anything you said. Each accusation felt like a knife twisting in your chest. The realisation of the hurt you had inflicted was almost unbearable. You could see their faces in your mind – Kyra’s eyes wide and a little glossy with hurt, Alessia’s shoulders slumping, Laia’s frustration, and Jen’s quiet resignation. You knew you’d been mean, knew that all those little comments had chipped away at people’s confidence and self-worth. It was the technique your dad and old coaches had done to you. In order to be the best, you must be broken and rebuilt. Your dad had broken you a long time ago.

Leah listened intently, her eyes never leaving yours as you laid out the fears that had been gnawing at you. Her eyes widened slightly as you listed the hurtful things you’d said. The gravity of your admissions was evident in the way her expression softened, shifting from surprise to deep concern. She took a moment before responding, her voice steady but compassionate.

“What do you think when you let a goal in?” The question took you by surprise. The question hung in the air, unexpected and almost jarring in its simplicity. For a moment, you were caught off guard, trying to piece together why Leah would ask something so seemingly unrelated.

“That I’m worthless. What’s the point in having a keeper if they can’t stop the goals, right?” You sniffed a little, thinking about all the self-deprecating thoughts that course through your mind at lightning speed if you let a goal in. You bit your lip, letting the familiar pain wash over you.

Leah's eyes remained locked on yours, her gaze filled with a mix of concern and understanding. She took a moment to absorb your words before responding, her voice calm and measured. “Who told you that?” You blinked, looking at for her a brief second, confusion clouding your mind. “Who told you that you’re worthless if you let a goal in?”

“My … my dad, my old coaches. But everyone knows that goalkeeper’s who can’t keep clean sheets are useless," you laughed humourlessly. "I mean, look at our Champions League matches last season, we lost on penalties, that’s my fault. We came third in the league, I let too many goals in. We crash out of the FA cup because of a goal that I could’ve easily stopped. I let a goal in the Conti cup. All of them are my fault. I wasn’t good enough. And with England? I let the goal in in the World Cup, our Nations League losses were all my fault, goals that shouldn’t have been scored. I’m the reason we weren’t at the Olympics this year. We qualified for the Euros by the skin of our teeth – we lost to France and drew to Sweden on home soil.” It was the rhetoric that had been spewed to you all summer. Every day, you needed to be better, do better, be the best, you couldn’t make a mistake. Look at what mistakes had cost you.

Leah listened carefully. Yes, she knew you carried each loss personally, but she didn’t know you took it this badly. She could see the deep exhaustion in your bones, the deep circles under your eyes, the paleness in your skin. You looked like you hadn’t had a proper rest in years. Each statement you made was like a dagger, not only piercing through your own sense of self-worth but also hitting Leah in a place she hadn’t expected. The weight of your guilt and frustration was palpable, and it was clear how deeply you were affected by every perceived failure.

She could see the toll this relentless self-blame was taking on you. Leah had known about the pressure you faced, but hearing the full extent of your suffering was sobering. It was one thing to understand the high stakes of professional sports, but it was another to see someone so dedicated and talented struggle under the crushing burden of their own expectations. She was struck by how your relentless pursuit of perfection, driven by past experiences and harsh criticisms, had led you to this place of self-doubt. The emotional scars were clearer now, and Leah could see that your harshest critic wasn’t just your dad or your old coaches – it was yourself.

Leah’s heart ached for you. She remembered her own struggles, the pressure to perform and the fear of failure that often accompanied high-level competition. But what you were expressing went beyond that. It wasn’t just about the weight of a single match or a missed opportunity; it was about a pattern of self-destruction that had become ingrained, a relentless inner voice that constantly reminded you of every shortcoming.

“I’ve heard it all before,” you continued, your voice cracking as you went. “Every mistake, every goal that went in was my fault. If I don’t perform perfectly, then I’m useless. I’m supposed to be the last line of defence. What good is a goalkeeper that lets goals in? In order to be the best, you must be broken and rebuilt.” You sounded so lost, in so much pain. Yet you clearly believed every word you were saying.

Leah’s eyes softened even more as she listened to your words. The silence that followed your last statement was heavy, thick with unspoken emotions. Leah let it linger, allowing the gravity of your confession to settle between you.

When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet, yet full of determination. "I don’t believe that," she said firmly. "I don’t believe that you have to be broken to be the best. And I don’t think anyone should make you feel that way."

You looked at her, an unfamiliar ache in your chest tightening as you tried to absorb what she was saying. "But I am broken," you whispered, the words almost choking you. "I’ve been broken so many times. I don’t even know who I am anymore, Leah. All I know is that I have to be perfect, or everything falls apart."

Leah shook her head, her expression resolute. "You’re not broken," she insisted. "You’re hurt. And there’s a difference. You’ve been hurt by people who should have supported you, people who should have built you up instead of tearing you down. But that doesn’t make you broken. It makes you human."

Your breath hitched as you processed her words. They were so different from the ones you had grown accustomed to hearing, the harsh criticisms and impossible expectations that had been drilled into you for years. Part of you wanted to reject them, to cling to the familiar pain because it was what you knew. But another part of you, a small, fragile part, wanted desperately to believe that Leah was right.

Leah reached out, placing a hand on your arm, her touch gentle and reassuring. "You’re not alone," she said softly. "We all make mistakes. We all have moments when we don’t perform the way we want to. But that doesn’t define us. You’re so much more than those moments. And you’re allowed to be human, to have bad days, to not be perfect all the time."

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, trying to maintain control. It was hard, though, with Leah looking at you like that, with so much compassion and understanding in her eyes. "What if I’m not good enough?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Leah moved over slightly, shuffling across the bench until she was almost touching you. "You are good enough," she said firmly. “We are a team. We help each other be the best. We rely on each other and push each other to be better. We can start slowly, there’s a team bonding next week. We’re going to the cinema and then out for a meal and drinks. I know you don’t usually come but how about you turn up. If you don’t like it or you want to go home, you can do – no questions asked.” You had never been to the cinema before. At least not that you can remember – maybe when you were a kid?

“Cinema … that sounds … nice.”

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revolutionsingingintherainnn · 12 hours

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No Words *ೃ༄

Summary: max defends his girlfriend and gets into trouble

𖤓 mv x reader ⋆｡°✩

𖤓 fluff + slight humour (iykyk) ⋆｡°✩

masterlist ☾☼

y/n had been a fan of formula one since she was a child. every parental figure in her life had been a fan of the sport, so it was natural and she got into it too. thankfully, it also made her realise very quickly in life that she wanted to work in the field of motorsports. she wasn't sure yet, and she was still working her way to getting into the sport, but it was a sure, clear path for her.

after meeting max, and falling in love with him, everything had changed. her family approved of the two of them, obviously, and so had his, though she hadn't cared much about jos' opinion. y/n made it clear in the beginning that she wanted to work in motorsports and she wanted to earn her place. she refused to let max talk her up or anything, because he was the kind of guy who would do just that for his girlfriend. max agreed, and promised to keep their relationship private for as long as she wanted.

it had taken her a few years. she bounced from indycar to motorgp to nascar and eventually made her way to f1 as a journalist. she had gained far more experience than she would've gotten if she had only focused on formula one, and she was confident in her abilities to finally be formula one.

max and her had stayed strong throughout, even if they kept their relationship private. she had met and become friends with daniel, lando, carlos, and all of max's friends. they often played padel together as well. mix the competitive spirits that max and she possessed, it was always fun.

after a year of being in formula one as a journalist, max and y/n had decided that it was time to stop hiding. they skipped the soft launch part, and jumped directly into the hard launch phase that left a lot of fans shook.

unfortunately, it also got her a lot of hate. y/n went from being one of the best journalists in f1 to one of the most hated ones for the same reasons that she was loved. the fans adored her because she was a woman of colour making a name for herself in such a sport, and that her parents had sacrificed a lot for her and she was making them proud. now, she was hated because her success became max's story and how he put in good words for her and how she was only with him for the money.

it broke her heart, but max was someone who had received a lot of hate before in his life, so he taught her all the ways to ignore the comments and focus on what she did best. it helped a great deal, but it also made her determined to prove that her career had nothing to do with max.

it was getting better, slowly and over time. max and y/n promised to never lose their temper on the comments. a lot of interviewers and fans had also asked the other drivers on the grid to comment on their relationship, asking if it was ethical for a journalist and a driver to date. but the other drivers always responded with the same thing, always saying how they've known max and y/n for a long time, and their relationship was no one else's business.

unfortunately, after a particularly hard race, max finally lost his cool.

"well, max, it's safe to say that this particular race of yours wasn't the best that you've performed. what do you have to say about that?"

"uh, nothing, really. we just didn't have the pace, and with some mistakes on my side, i lost a lot of points. but, i'm sure we can cover it up next race." max replied.

"you don't have to worry about us writing a bad article about you. your girlfriend and we will only be writing praises, don't you worry. the only difference would be that we won't take your hard earned money like she does," the interviewer laughed, nudging y/n.

the cameras were all focused on them, there were fans nearby, and other drivers. everyone was watching. it was live tv. the entire world was watching. the thick crowd of an audience had their gaze fixed on y/n, and all she could do in that moment was hang her head and try not to cry.

that's the moment max lost his cool. y/n was standing right there, and the interviewer had disrespected her on a very public platform.

"actually, my girlfriend will always tell me what i need to hear, whether it's good or bad. y/n y/l/n, a well known journalist, who is also standing right there with you, will write exactly what happened on track, because that's the part that she reports on. she made her own career, so fuck you for dismissing all of it." max bursted, before he stormed off.

the interviewer was spluttering, not sure how to react, but completely outraged as he forced the fia to take actions on max's outburst. y/n slipped away silently, needing to go back to max.

later on, the fia decided to punish max for using "language during the fia sunday press conference". their decision: obligation to accomplish some work of public interest.

later, an interviewer asked him if he regretted his decision of defending his girlfriend and getting a punishment, max responded, “no.”

“so, what do you think of the punishment given to you? do you think it’s fair?”

“no words.”

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

i hope you guys enjoyed this! i had a lot of fun writing this, mostly because i had no idea what my brain wanted me to write, but somehow i kept on typing. anyways, this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #mv33 imagine #mv33 fic #mv33 #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader #mv33 fluff #fia

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yesihaveaobsession · 2 days

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Secret Romance

Alastor x female reader

Summary: Secretly dating The Radio Demon himself and sneaking around so the other hotel patrons don't get suspcious.

A/N- WARNINGS??- Alastor being flirty? Kissing? Anyways hope y'all likeeeee... <3

You and Alastor had been secretly seeing each other for months, slipping away whenever you could to be alone. The thrill of sneaking around was intoxicating; it honestly made you feel young again... even though you were both grown adults. The secrecy, however, made things complicated—especially because the Hazbin Hotel was filled with eyes and ears. Alastor, the Radio Demon, had always been charming, but no one would suspect he could have a soft spot for anyone, let alone you.

Tonight was no different. You had been helping Charlie around the hotel all day, but it was later, when the night had grown darker and everyone was winding down in their separate rooms, that you made your way through the hotel's now dimly lit corridors. You tiptoed past a few residents' rooms.

When you opened the door to a room that was still in renovation mode—just as Alastor had mentioned in the note he'd left for you—you found him already waiting, his back to the window, his hands casually behind him as he hummed a jazzy tune. The soft glow of his red eyes locked onto yours as you entered.

"Ah, darling," he purred, "Right on time." You closed the door behind you, the faint creak of the hinges reminding you just how secretive you had to be. No one could find out. It would cause too much drama, especially with the way the others saw Alastor... dangerous, unpredictable, and manipulative. But you, you saw a different side of him—one that made your heart race.

“You make it sound like I’m late," you teased, stepping closer, your fingers brushing his arm. Alastor chuckled and took your hand, pulling you gently toward him. "Perfection, my dear, is always punctual." You rolled your eyes at his playfulness, but you couldn’t deny the warmth you felt every time you were near him.

Being around Alastor was like dancing with danger, but you loved it. In moments like this, the world faded away, and it was just the two of you.

"So," you whispered, looking up into his eyes and leaning in slightly, "what's the plan this time? Sneak out through the window? Or do you have some other trick up your sleeve?”

In the beginning, when the two of you first started seeing each other privately, Alastor wasn’t really great at physical affection—he wasn’t a good kisser and didn’t know how to place his hands on your hips or engage in physical contact beyond linking arms or holding hands occasionally. But over the months, he'd gotten much better.

Alastor grinned, a wicked spark lighting up his features. "As tempting as it is to whisk you away into the night, I’m afraid we'll have to settle for a quieter meeting. The others have been... suspicious lately.” He leaned in slightly, causing you to raise an eyebrow. "Suspicious?"

"Mm-hmm." He added as he spun you around with such grace. You let out a small giggle as he slowly dipped you, then pulled you back up and closer. The smile that possessed his face never seemed to falter. “But no need to worry, my dear. They’ll never catch on. After all, they don’t expect someone like me to fall for someone like you.”

There it was—the vulnerability behind his usual confidence. No one expected the Radio Demon to have romantic feelings. And for him to reveal them to you, of all people? It was a secret you both treasured, making these stolen moments even more precious. You reached up, resting a hand on his chest. He didn’t flinch, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his sharp suit. “They won’t find out,” you promised softly. “We’re too good at this.”

Heck, yeah, you two were. You were like ninjas at this point. Alastor's smile widened as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Oh, I know, darling. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Should you two stop? Probably. But the truth was that you had feelings for each other, and the excitement that filled you was unbeatable. For a while, the two of you just stood there, bathing in the moonlight that shone through the window behind you. The silence between you was comfortable, even as Hell's usual chaos carried on outside. In the Radio Demon's arms, you felt safer than in any other relationship you'd been in.

But, as always, the time came for you to part for the night. You sighed, reluctantly pulling away, already missing the warmth of his arms around you. “I should go before someone notices I’ve been gone too long.”

He nodded in understanding, though he felt the same as you. "Yes, yes, we can’t have anyone getting suspicious, can we?” he said quietly. You gave him a playful smile before heading to the door, but just as you reached for the handle, Alastor's voice stopped you.

"One more thing, dear..."

You turned, and in an instant, he was in front of you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss so sudden yet so sweet that it took your breath away. When he pulled back, his smile was softer, more genuine than usual.

“Until next time,” he whispered.

You gave him one last glance before slipping out the door, your heart racing as you made your way back to your room. The thrill of the secret affair lingered long after you left, knowing you’d soon be sneaking off again for more stolen moments with the man who had captured your heart.

#alastor #hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor imagine #i have an obsession

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fallstaticexit · 3 days

Text

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Next update will post Monday the 23rd , same time and same place! Going to start working on updating my game etc. <3

Transcript under the cut

Siobhan: There you are! Our guest of honor tucked away in the corner. You’re not hiding, are you?

Nancy: I never really liked crowds.

Siobhan: That won’t do, Nancy. Come. Lets chat.

Siobhan: You know, the way you handled Becca the other night is admirable. I wouldn’t have done anything less if it were my man she was pawing after.

Nancy: Listen, I’m not a violent person. I shouldn’t have hit her.

Siobhan: It hardly matters. It’s about respect.

Siobhan: You have the means to be the most powerful woman in the world. Your family runs a multi million dollar company. Your name is on every recognizable building across the globe. Girls like Becca will dream of the day they can write you a check so she can raise her brood of rowdy children in one of your flawlessly designed properties.

Siobhan: You’re a star, Nancy. It’s time you show everyone what it means to be a Landgraab. You can start by becoming a Theta.

Siobhan: By the way, your mother just arrived!

Nancy: Hello Mother.

Queenie: Nancy.

Nancy: Father couldn’t make it?

Queenie: No, I’m afraid he’s tied up in a prior engagement. Besides, I try not to bore him with my personal affairs. [murmurs] How provocative, these pieces.

Queenie: So you’ve made friends with the daughter of an adulterer. Is that what you thought would impress me? Well, at least she’s proactive. Your lack of involvement in any clubs or organizations shows just how lazy you are. It’s almost as if we’ve sent you to university to piss away our money yet again. When will you prove to me that you’re worth half the trouble you put your father and me through? And for the love of God, stop biting your nails! It’s disgusting.

Professor Munch: -right, Nancy?

Nancy: I’m sorry, what was that?

Professor Munch: This model is absolutely stunning! Marvelous, even.

Nancy: R-really? Thank you, Professor.

Professor Munch: Ah! No wonder! Your drawings are very compelling. The way you blend functionality with aesthetics is brillant! A true prodigy!

Professor Munch: I am very proud of you, Nancy. Keep it up.

Nancy: Hi Professor. I know I’m a little early for office hours, but I really wanted your thoughts on my blueprints.

Professor Munch: Nancy! Are you kidding! Anything for my star pupil. Take a seat.

Professor Munch: If I’m being honest, I don’t have much critique.

Nancy: Staying on top of my grades is really important to me. My GPA is 3.7 but I know I can do more to improve. I can do better-

Professor Munch: [huffs affectionately] Nancy! You are my brightest and best student! I’d say it’s in your blood. I haven’t seen such vision and passion in my student’s work since I taught your brother.

Nancy: Nathan was your student?

Professor Munch: Oh, Nathan was my star! In the short time I spent with him, he has shown me what true artistry looks like. That kid had an eye for detail. He always spoke so fondly of his little baby sister, Nan; he’d call you. [sighs] I miss him dearly.

Professor Munch: I thought of quitting and getting back into the field after he passed. I was devastated when I found out about the accident. My partner pushed me to continue teaching. She knew there was nothing I loved more than handing the tools to brillant kids like you and Nathan to shape our future.

Nancy: Partner? [frowns] Your...partner?

Professor Munch: Monica. We were roommates in college and have been stuck to each other like glue since!

Nancy: So, she’s your best friend?

Professor Munch: Oh certainly. My best friend, my muse, my partner.

Nancy: What about your husband?

Professor Munch: Husband?

Nancy: I- sorry. Nevermind.

Professor Munch: Talk to me, dear. What’s on your mind?

Nancy: I guess I don’t understand. You’re wearing a ring but you have no photos of your husband. You seem...close with her, in the photo.

Professor Munch: I was married once. We have three children together. Sweetest man alive. We’re still friends to this day. We both realized that we had our hearts in different places. In the end, I had my Monica. My soulmate.

Nancy: [sobs quietly]

Professor Munch: Oh, no. Nancy? Dear, are you alright?

Professor Munch: [softly] Oh, sweet darling. You’re hurting, aren’t you? Can I hold you? Is that ok?

Nancy: [nods once]

Professor Munch: You let it all out, you hear me? Just let it all out. I got you.

Nancy Narrates: [I wondered what kind of person I’d be had my mother held me like this]

Professor Munch: There’s a small club that I support that meets every Friday in the commons. I think you should stop by.

Nancy: Thank you Professor but, I think I’ve already decided to join a sorority.

Professor Munch: I’ll tell you what, it’s not something you have to join or commit to, but I think there’s something to gain by coming. Plus, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. You two have a lot in common.

Morgan: Holy shit, hey! It’s Nancy Landgraab! Get over here!

#the art of being seen #the landgraabs #nancy landgraab #siobhan fyres #dominic fyres #moira fyres #mia munch #morgan fyres #knox greenburg #darling walsh #sims 4 simblr #sims 4 stories #ts4 simblr #sims 4

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sorrowsofsilence · 2 days

Note

If you take asks/requests can you do something with reader refusing any type of help or assistance in anything but she's so used to everything being thrown in her face or used against her so now she is just super hyper independent. She meets Noah and for a long time he doesn't understand why she never lets anyone help her until she opens up and quietly tells him that she can't trust people to not use the help they gave her against her eventually.

Super self indulgent here 🥺😟

if im here • n.s

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!reader

words: 2k

warnings: none

note: thank you so much for this anon. this is so relatable, and writing this felt so... therapeutic? i hope you enjoy this xx

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

At first, Noah merely noticed it as a quirk; an oddity of hers that was borderline admirable. Any time he offered to help her carry anything, she would politely, but firmly decline. Once, when she was struggling with a stubborn jar of pasta sauce, he'd tried to help, only to have her snatch the glass away with a fierce glint in her eyes.

It was clear that she didn't need or want his assistance.

Even in times that seemed dire, she refused him. The time her tire popped and she struggled to fit it back onto the rims, and the time the bowl from the top shelf fell against the floor, smashing into pieces and cutting her hand.

He always assumed it was pride or a stubborn sense of independence. But over time, he realized there was something deeper lurking beneath the surface; a sort of wariness, a guardedness that was difficult to penetrate.

One evening, after they'd grown closer, they were sitting on Noah’s living room floor amidst several takeout boxes from the local chinese place. She was battling with a particularly tricky fortune cookie wrapper when Noah instinctively reached out to help.

"No," she said quietly, pulling her hand back as if his touch burned. Something in her eyes flickered, a strange mix of defiance and vulnerability that made Noah pause.

He sat there, watching with a defeated brow as he placed the chopsticks in his box of chow mein, shoulders slumped.

“Y/N…” Noah whispered, his eyes saddened as she struggled, throwing her head back in a frustrated growl.

“Why won’t you just let me help you? Ever?”

She sighed, placing the untouched cookie on the coffee table. Her hands folded in her lap, shoulders hunched as if bracing against an invisible force.

For a long moment, she was silent, refusing to glance at Noah as he waited, knowing better than to press.

"I can't trust people," she admitted, not meeting his gaze, "I can't trust them not to use the help they gave me, against me eventually."

Noah was silent, processing her words. His heart twisted at the bare honesty of her confession, the raw pain that lurked behind her fierce independence. He realized this wasn’t about jars or boxes; this was about survival, about safeguarding herself from the world around her that had done her wrong, time and time again.

"No one should ever use kindness as a weapon," he said softly, respecting her space but wanting her to know he was there, "And I promise you, I won't. Not now, not ever."

She looked up at him then, her eyes clouded with a wariness that made him want to reach out and reassure her. But he knew better now, knew that the last thing she needed was empty reassurances or hollow promises.

Instead, he simply held her gaze, letting his words hang between them as his promise to her. He wanted to show her that he was different and that not everyone would use their kindness against her.

She held his onyx gaze for a long moment before finally looking away. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a guardedness about her. It was clear that it would take more than just words to convince her.

But Noah was patient; he knew that trust wasn’t built in a day.

It was something that had to be earned and nurtured, piece by piece. He might not have been able to erase the past or change the people who had hurt her before, but he could certainly try to be different, and show her she deserved to be cared for.

Over the next few weeks and months, Noah did his best to show her he was a man of his word.

He never imposed, never assumed. Each time a situation arose where she seemed in need of help, he waited, letting her make the first move.

Bit by bit, they began to navigate around this invisible barrier - a silent dance of respect and understanding. When she stubbed her toe and cursed under her breath, Noah remained silent, only moving when she held out her hand for assistance. When her car broke down one icy winter evening, instead of rushing over as he instinctively wanted to do, he waited for her call.

It was a slow process, one filled with silent understanding and unspoken words. But with each day that passed, Noah could see the progression. There were moments when she would hesitate just before refusing his help; moments that filled him with hope and reassurance that he was doing the right thing.

One day when an unexpected rainstorm caught them off guard on their way back from a late-night movie, he held out his coat as they stepped out of the theatre. He prepared himself for her usual refusal, the quick shake of her head and the pulled-down brim of her hat as she braved the elements herself.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, she looked at his proffered jacket for a moment before finally nodding, tugging it around her shoulders with a shy smile.

His heart leapt in response.

It was a small victory, but for Noah, it felt monumental. It was the first time she had willingly accepted his assistance without that familiar flicker of fear in her eyes. The rain sliced through the night, drenching them despite the coat, but neither cared.

One small step towards trust. One small step towards un-guilted help.

“Thank you,” She whispered, smiling up at him. Noah wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a comforting hug as they headed to their apartment.

“I would do anything for you,” He said, placing a kiss in her hair.

Her shivering body vibrated against his, her hands clinging to his dampened shirt for support.

In the silence of the rain-soaked streets, under the flickering street lamps, she believed him.

Not because she wanted to, but because he had proven it - time and again - through his patience, his understanding. He had seen her fears and her scars and had not flinched away, but stood firmly by her side, always waiting for her to reach out first.

"Noah," she murmured, as they unlocked the door of their shared apartment, her damp hair sticking to his face. "You're different."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, an acknowledgement of what they both already knew. He smiled into her hair, warmth spreading through him despite the cold rain dripping from their clothes onto the hallway floor.

"I hope so," he murmured back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping back, giving her space once again as they moved inside.

She smiled at him then, one that reached to her eyes.

It was a rare sight and Noah cherished it because he knew how much courage it took for her.

That exchange marked a turning point in their relationship. His promise uttered in the heart of the storm, wasn't just an empty phrase spoken to comfort her.

It was a vow that he intended to keep, not just for that night but for every night thereafter.

In the following days, she became more comfortable in accepting his aid. She even let him help her carry groceries to their apartment, a task she'd always insisted on doing herself before- all ten bags looped up either arm.

But that day, he was allowed to carry five.

There was still that flicker of unease every now and then, a shadow that crossed her eyes whenever he offered his help; however, those moments were becoming less frequent with time.

Noah proved himself to be a man of his word. He stood by her side, not as a knight trying to save a damsel in distress, but as a constant companion who honored her strength and respected her space.

Their souls danced around each other in the ever-evolving rhythm of their companionship - sometimes colliding, sometimes distancing, yet always spinning in synchrony.

One cool spring afternoon, they went to a local park and found a solitary bench that overlooked a still lake. The water mirrored the sky, capturing its changing moods from cool blue to fiery orange as the sun began to set.

They sat there in a comforting quiet for a long moment, lost in their own thoughts.

Noah opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself just in time. He respected her need for space - physical and emotional both. His gaze fell on her profile - her eyes closed and tilted towards the setting sun, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in the crisp air.

"Is your mind always this quiet?" she asked after a while, turning to meet his gaze. He noted how her eyes held a certain softness now, a less guarded curiosity, “Or this patient?”

"No," he confessed with a soft chuckle. "I’ve had to learn patience over time."

"Because of me?" she asked, her voice low.

He turned to face her, taking a moment to really look at her. The setting sun reflected in her eyes, giving them an ethereal glow.

He admired her- every part of her. The good, the bad. Everything.

"Partly," he admitted, "But also because of myself. I've realised that sometimes the best way to help someone isn't by charging in like a hero. It's by waiting…giving them the space they need to heal."

His words stretched between them as she processed, her gaze never leaving his. Noah noticed a hint of something different in her eyes; not fear or apprehension, but something akin to gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said softly, echoing the words she’d whispered weeks before in the rain.

"I'm trying, Noah," she said quietly, "I'm trying to trust again."

He nodded, understanding all too well what that meant for her. It was a leap of faith - an act of trust that was foreign and strenuous to her very being.

"I know," he replied softly.

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand gently, a small comfort against the enormity of what she had just shared, “And you’re doing an amazing job.”

She smiled, looking down at their entwined fingers.

“I’m proud of you,” Noah breathed.

Her heart raced with armour as they sat there, their hands linked while the sun slowly disappeared beneath the horizon. The world around them was bathed in a tranquil glow, almost as if it was recognizing the sacredness of their moment.

Noah squeezed her hand gently, his chest full of emotions he couldn't quite put into words.

He took a deep breath, his gaze still locked onto the surreal sunset before them. This woman sitting next to him, she was strong. She had been through so much, but instead of hardening her heart, she still allowed herself to be vulnerable, for him. Of all people, him.

Her voice brought him out of his thoughts, "I think I'm ready."

Noah turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden declaration. She looked back at him, determination shining bright in her eyes.

"To rely on someone," she clarified, trailing a finger along the flower on the back of his hand, "To trust again... with you."

There was no hesitation in her voice, just a raw honesty that pierced through the quiet evening.

Noah felt his heart surge with a myriad of emotions: hope, joy, relief; but above all, there was a sense of honor.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, not wanting to rush her.

He knew the gravity of what she was saying, the importance of this moment.

But she simply nodded, meeting his gaze with an unwavering certainty.

"Yes," she whispered. "I think I am."

Her simple affirmation held so much weight. It was her declaration of surrender, but also a confirmation of faith in him.

And that meant more to Noah than any grand gestures or professions could ever do.

He leaned over, closing the distance between them and pressed his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled in the cool dusk air, creating an intimate bubble around them while the rest of the world faded into insignificance.

"I'll be here for you, whenever you need.”

tags:

@xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @thefallennightmare

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers

@anything-more-than-human @blacksoul-2 @sweetwombatpizza

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens

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momotonescreaming · 22 hours

Text

All the things I would do

Rating: M | WC: 5.5k | Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard Relationship Study, Kissing, Mild Smut [Read on AO3]

Buck loved having sex in the loft. He loved having sex with Tommy in the loft.

The way he could drag Tommy upstairs by his hand, fingers entwined, no walls or doors in the way to slow them down. The way he could fall backwards onto his mattress, sending Tommy tumbling on top of him with a playful tug of his hand, falling into place easily. Large thighs bracketing his hips, keeping him pinned, held in place — not that Buck wants to leave when Tommy has him like that.

Hand curling around Tommy’s waist, around his neck, pulling him even closer as Buck smiles into a kiss. His boyfriend (boyfriend!) falling into it naturally, almost entirely in sync. Letting himself be pulled, pinning Buck where he wants him. Bracing himself on the mattress to kiss and kiss and kiss Buck.

Buck’s had sex in the loft before, it’s a fact, logically he knows that it’s technically no different than when he was with Ali or Taylor or Natalia. That Buck and Taylor would hurry upstairs with the same desire and rush to have sex that he and Tommy do.

But it feels different. More. Better. Unlike anything else he’s experienced before.

Like he’s a giddy teenager experiencing dating for the first time combined with the freedom and experience of an adult. Maybe it’s just better with Tommy.

Tommy, who was better than Buck could have possibly dreamed.

Who took his whole world and flipped it upside down. Opened his eyes. He was free and he was Tommy’s. He had a boyfriend who was cool with this being his first relationship with a man (once he had gotten over the initial hurdle and panic, which, fair, Buck felt terrible about it too) because they both knew he was in this with Tommy. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure of what he was ready for — he told Tommy as much — but he meant it when he said he was ready for something with Tommy. He liked Tommy, he wanted to be around him, he wanted to explore what dating this incredible man meant.

This incredible man who was cool with whatever pace Buck wanted or needed to set — whether he wanted to slow down or speed up. Buck wanted to explore it all with Tommy.

Who’s always checking in, making sure Buck’s alright, and it never feels condescending. Partly because Buck actually really appreciates a partner doing that for him, showing that they care and don’t want to pressure him into something he’s maybe not ready for just yet. But also partly because he now knows that Tommy needs it as well. To be the partner he never had when he first came out. Not to say that he doesn’t listen to Buck when he says yes, he’s sure. He wants this. He’s ready. Because Tommy listens when he talks, really listens, and takes him at his word when he says he wants more, they can progress.

So they were taking it at Buck’s pace, and Buck couldn’t be happier. So was Tommy, if what he was telling Buck was any indication. The way he looked at him. And why wouldn’t it be. Tommy kept looking at him with happy, crinkly smiles that took over his whole face. With soft, tender gazes that made Buck feel like he was about to melt on the spot.

When Buck said that all he wanted to do was make out like teenagers, groping on his couch with no intention of going any further — Tommy said of course. And he was a very willing participant. Letting Buck explore his lips, his tongue, the way that he kissed him. Kissing him back. Feeling Tommy’s 5 o’clock shadow against his chin, stubble scratching against stubble. Resisting the urge to lick a hot, wet line in the cleft of Tommy’s chin. Muscled shoulders underneath his grasping hands. Sighing and moaning into Tommy’s mouth at every little reminder about just how masculine Tommy is. And just how into it Buck is. A part of Buck wonders why it took him so long to realise that this was something he was into.

Sharp cheekbones and a jaw so chiselled it was like he was made from marble. Short hair and muscles bigger than his. Buck finds himself moaning the first time he gets pinned underneath his boyfriend and realises that if anything, he’s the smaller one in the relationship. They’re the same height, both muscled, but Tommy’s just slightly broader, with a thick chest and biceps as big as his head. He kind of wants to bite him about it.

It feels easy with Tommy, natural, but not like he’s just falling into it with him like when Buck was in his other relationships. Less like he’s being whisked away in someone else’s current and more like he’s going with the flow. Together. He was choosing Tommy and Tommy was choosing him back. It was an easy decision to make. Like he was talking about with Eddie — they just clicked.

He wants to explore everything with him.

Tommy sent him his first ever dick pic, and it was kind of insane how good it was. Blew his fucking mind. He felt like a teenager again with how horny it made him. He remembers it vividly, Buck lounging on his brand new couch, flipping through channels for something to watch, texting Tommy. His boyfriend recently back from shift in his own house and starting to unwind. Took a shower to clean off the day, got changed, and so Buck flirted a little. Maybe asked for a picture. He felt all giddy and little ridiculous as he did it, excitement bubbling up in his chest as Tommy actually sent a photo back.

Reclined into his mattress, one arm resting above his head, gently flexing. Hair all tousled and curling at the nape of his neck where it was still damp from his shower. He was shirtless, because of course he was, camera angled to show off the full expanse of his torso. Showing off his abs, his scar, his pecs, that Buck definitely wanted to bite. Tommy knows what he’s doing, all casual and cool and Buck really can’t get enough of it. He also kind of wanted to make it the lockscreen on his phone, if he wasn’t sure Eddie and Hen and the rest of the 118 would tease him for it as soon as they caught sight of it.

So, biting lip, Buck sent a photo back. Tried to pose in such a way that was flirty, fun and sexy without him looking like a total fuckboy. Although, Buck thought — Tommy would probably like it if he flexed his bicep or lifted his shirt to show off his abs. Posed like a frat boy, just a little. Because he knows that Tommy’s into him. Doesn’t have to worry about sending a photo that’s too much too fast.

It was exciting, exchanging those photos that got sexier and sexier with each click. Buck unbuttoning his shirt, his jeans. While Tommy tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants. Shucking his pants down his thighs as Tommy sent a photo of him palming himself through the thin fabric of his grey sweats, dick tenting the fabric. And fuck, what Buck wouldn’t give to see that in person. He’d seen people online talk about hot guys in grey sweats before, not thinking much about it, but he gets it now. Slowly starting to forget about angles and flexing his muscles, trying to take the best possible photo for Tommy and focusing on just how fucking hot he felt. Pulse racing, breath coming heavier, excitement running through him. How he wanted to show Tommy just how much he was effecting him.

He was sexting a guy. His boyfriend, even. It was fucking exciting. Invigorating.

And then Buck got his first ever dick pic, and he shamelessly jacked off to thoughts of Tommy in the middle of his living room couch. Didn’t even make it upstairs. Didn’t even think about the possibility of anyone barging into his apartment. Was so caught up in the sight of Tommy — all of him, and damn there was a lot— in the thought of what his dick might feel like in his hands, heavy and warm and velvety skin. What sounds Tommy would be making — moaning like he did in the hospital lobby, gasping and grunting as he got off to thoughts of Buck.

Shirt falling off his shoulders, unbuttoned and baring his naked chest. Pinned on only from the couch underneath him, fabric wrinkling. He didn’t care. Jeans stretched around his thighs, straining as he adjusted himself. Underwear pulled down just enough to expose himself, tucked under his cock, fabric damp with precome. He sent Tommy a photo of that too.

Things progressed easily from there. Buck was all in, no hesitation.

It was like that photo finally broke through the final wall of nerves sitting in Buck’s head — the one of Tommy fisting his hard cock, pretty and pink and leaking, just for Buck. Head thrown back on his bed, exposing the long lines of his neck. That while he was in this, and knew Tommy was hot, had been shamelessly jerking off to thoughts of Tommy — the reality of seeing a cock like that had him a little nervous. It was first. Having a photo made it easier, Buck thought afterwards, breaking through the anxiety of a first time and the what ifs swimming around in Buck’s head.

Tommy was hot. Buck was horny. And he had nothing to be worried about. The heat and the lust and the want rushed through Buck and swept all the anxiety away like a wave.

He wanted phone sex and to come in his pants dry humping with Tommy on the couch. Wanted to drag Tommy into the shower together and get his hands on him. Maybe drop to his knees and ask Tommy to teach him how to suck cock.

And Tommy was there every step of the way.

Dirty talking on the other side of the phone, voice deep and smooth and sending a shiver down Buck’s spine. Relationship still so new but Tommy still somehow knowing exactly what to say to make him groan. To feel the heat pooling inside him as Tommy tells him exactly how he’s going to take him apart. To tell Tommy how good he is at this, how perfect. Tell him about all the things he does to Buck — his racing heart, his stuttering words, wanton moaning into the phone.

Ready and willing to rut against Buck like a teenager, sloppily making out in the living room of Tommy’s house. Never once complaining about the denim of his jeans straining against him as they fuck fully clothed. Pinning Buck to his couch, sinking into the cushions, grinding their clothed cocks together. One hand in Tommy’s hair, mussing up his curls; the other raking down his back. Grasping at fabric, feeling the heat of him, the shifting lines of his muscles. Creeping lower to grab at his ass and swallowing Tommy’s moan as he does so. Writhing and rutting against each other until they came in their pants, and Buck was kind of obsessed of the feeling of Tommy pulsing against him, hot and sticky. It was so hot, they’ll definitely be doing that again if Buck has anything to say about it.

Not to say that’s all their relationship is — sex.

Buck finally got to go on that go karting date — at that track out in the desert he’d been talking about — where he had a lot of fun discovering that Tommy was very good at it, actually. Made sense, since he was very much a car guy. It was kind of a perfect date. Out in the sun, clear skies, doing something exciting with Tommy. Racing around the track, calling out and teasing everytime they passed each other. They made a day of it, going for a drive, Buck holding Tommy’s hand over the Jeep’s gear stick. His boyfriend’s large, calloused hand entwined with his, warm and comforting. He felt lighter on the way home, that now achingly familiar giddy-happiness sitting in his chest like honey. Buck drove home with a grin on his face, hand resting on Tommy’s thigh.

There were other dates of course, where they tried a mini golfing place down by the beach and quickly discovered that they were both sort of terrible at it. Spending hours walking through the park together, just talking and enjoying the fact that he was allowed to hold Tommy’s hand. They re-did their dinner date and actually made it to the movie, sneaking glances at each other in the dark of the theatre.

Tommy was taking him on hikes — at some local trails he frequented, where they were surrounded by nothing but nature and the cloudless sky. In a muscle tee with the sleeves cut off, and his familiar blue gym shorts, Tommy led them up the trail with a grin on his face and a backpack strapped to his back. Water bottle, bug spray, sunscreen, emergency first aid kit. It was nice to date someone who got it, another first responder, someone who was just as prepared as he was. The sun beat down on them as they hiked the trail, sun warming his skin until he felt like liquid gold. Talking about everything and nothing, about calls and documentaries Buck had watched. About what work Tommy was doing on his car and a little more about Harbour Station.

His muscles were warm and he was sweaty by the time they finished the trail, Tommy much the same as he drove them both back to Buck’s loft. Safe to say he was distracted on the ride home. He was sun warmed and sated, watching a bead of sweat drip Tommy’s neck as he sighed into the cool air of the Jeep’s AC. Licking his lips, trying very hard not to think about leaning over the centre console and licking it up. Feeling the saltiness on his tongue, the warmth of Tommy’s skin radiating out, the way his breath would hitch.

But Buck really doesn’t want to risk a car accident and have to call 911 — they’ll never hear the end of it. So he lets Tommy drive, watching him navigate the roads of LA with ease. One hand on the wheel, and the other burning hot as it rests on Buck’s thigh. And then, he invites Tommy back up to his loft with a flirty gaze and a coy tilt to his head. He really doesn’t want this date to end. Buck thinks he could spend hours with Tommy and never grow sick of it, never feel the itch that he needs space.

Tommy agrees.

So Buck spent the elevator ride up to his loft bouncing on the balls of his feet, biting his lip and trying to keep his hands to himself. He won’t be able to restrain himself otherwise, and he really doesn’t want to piss off his neighbours. Tommy gives him a knowing glance out of the corner of his eye, gaze raking over Buck’s body. That familiar smirk on his face. He doesn’t feel objectified, like Tommy’s just in it for his body, he feels wanted. Desired.

It feels like the beginning of something.

Sex might not be the only thing their relationship is — but it is an important part. Hell, Buck was a self proclaimed sex addict for a time. It took a lot of reflection, and a lot of talking through it in therapy, but Buck was now comfortable with the fact that him desiring sex, desiring that intimacy — isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Having a high sex drive isn’t a bad thing. There’s nothing wrong with needing that connection to another person. Unabashed and unashamed. And he wanted that with Tommy.

Buck wanted that connection, that closeness. He wanted to explore sex, explore his bisexuality — with Tommy. Whether it was hard and fast, hot and steamy, or slow and exploring. He wanted it all.

So as soon as they shut the front door to Buck’s loft behind them — they were on each other. Reaching for each other in tandem. Hands grasping at waists and sweaty shirts, Tommy throwing his backpack onto the floor and kissing Buck as soon as he’s free of it. Buck pulling Tommy towards him by his waist, wrinkling the fabric of his sweaty shirt — sending them slamming into the door behind him with the force of it.

He smiles into Tommy’s mouth as his boyfriend brings an arm up to brace himself on the door — using the leverage to slow their descent into the door, just slightly. His heart jumps as he realises what Tommy did — trying to stop Buck from slamming his head into the door — taking care of him, even now. Even still.

Buck slides his hands up Tommy’s shirt, feeling the heat of his skin pressing into the palms of his hands. Burning hot, it’s not enough. Skating along the hardened muscle, the sweat pooling on his lower back. He wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer, closer.

Closing his eyes as Tommy kisses him back. Leaving his arm braced on the door above them, bracketing Buck in, the other burning a hole in his side. All he can smell is sweat and salt and Tommy. There’s nowhere he’d rather be. Kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him. Prying Tommy’s mouth open with his tongue, wet and hot. Dripping spit down his chin as he sucks on his tongue.

Tommy groans into his mouth, a low rumble, and he can feel every shake of it where their chests press together. Sticking together with sweat. If Buck was less horny, he’d maybe think about how gross they both were, sticky from hours in the sun. But he is, and Tommy is so fucking hot like this. Sweaty and gross and masculine. He grips the fabric of his shirt, and uses the leverage to pull Tommy’s hips into his. Thin fabric of their gym shorts leaving nothing to the imagination. Feeling every inch of him, the thick hard line of his cock.

Then it’s Buck’s turn to moan unabashedly as Tommy starts to gently rut against him. Mouth dropping to his neck as Buck tilts his gaze towards the roof of the loft. Eyes fluttering open, gasping for air, letting his gasps and moans filter out into the open air.

A giggle escapes him. They’re still pressed to his front door.

Tommy slows, pressing wet kisses down his neck. Along the curve and lines of his jaw. Taking his time with each one, deep but not enough to leave marks. Buck finds himself pushing up Tommy’s shirt, exposing his bare chest as he ruts against him.

“Tommy,” he moans, the word shuddering as he exhales, and there must be something in his voice because Tommy pauses. Pulls away from Buck’s neck, leaving behind a hot wet mark that cools in the open air. Buck would pout at the loss of contact if they weren’t pressed together as close as they are.

Tilting his head, raising an eyebrow in that way he does, Tommy looks at him. Mouth twitching up at the corners. He can see how spit-slick and pink they are. He really wants to kiss him again. “Evan.”

“Why’d you stop?” Buck says, smiling. Panting through the words, heat of his skin cooling in the summer air. Running his hands up Tommy’s sides, along the lines and curves of his muscles. Dipping lower, enjoying every inch of their clothed cocks pressing together. Tilting his head to catch Tommy’s gaze, eyes shining. He still feels all giddy and bubbly inside. The heat and desire boiling up with this undercurrent of sheer joy. “I thought we had something good going.”

“We do.” Tommy says simply, smoothly, smiling softly back at Buck as if he has no idea what he’s doing to him. Bringing his hand down from the door above them, dropping to cradle Buck’s face. Hold his haw in his hand, thumb running in gentle circles. Calloused thumb scratching against his stubble. It’s a good sound. “But I was just wondering if we’d be more comfortable in that big fancy shower of yours. There’s room for two, isn’t there?”

“There is now,” Buck says giddily, the smooth tone of Tommy’s voice washing over him, rolling through him. Sending a shiver down his spine, straight to his thickening cock. He’s sure Tommy can feel it. Good. He loves it when Tommy puts the moves on him, and loves being able to show him exactly how much.

He grabs Tommy’s hand, laughing giddily as he pulls them both into the bathroom. Tommy’s chucking behind him, fingers entwined with his. Kicking the door behind them, slamming shut, but neither flinch at the sound.

Tugging gently on their entwined hands, Tommy pulls Buck back into his orbit, reaching out with his other hand to rest on his hip. Steadying them. Bodies pressed together, still warm and sweaty, but the red-hot urgency is cooling.

Buck can go at Tommy’s pace, too. It’s nice, when Tommy lets himself set the lead like this, when he knows it’s something Buck’s into and comfortable with. He bites his bottom lip, plush and pink, drawing Tommy’s eyes down as he gently brings their hips together again. Not moving, not writhing and grinding like he wants to, just pressing the lengths of them together. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” Tommy says back, voice just on the edge of teasing. Buck kind of really wants to keep kissing him. So he does. Eyes fluttering shut as he brings their lips together again, hand resting on the back of Tommy’s head, tangling through his sweat-damp curls. He moans into Tommy’s mouth, deepening the kiss, when Tommy pulls back.

Buck chases his lips with his, almost subconsciously, already so caught up in the feeling of Tommy’s kisses. He’s sort of addicted already, ever since that fateful day in the middle of the loft. What can he say, Tommy’s a good kisser. Good enough to flip his whole world on his head. Open his eyes. Tommy chuckles gently at Buck chasing his lips, gently rubbing his thumb in circles at Buck’s waist.

“Wanna get the shower going for us, baby?” Tommy says, voice deepening as his eyes lock with Buck’s. Squeezing their entwined hands as he takes a step back, increasing the space in between them. Hands anchoring them together, even still, and Buck appreciates it. His heart jumps in his chest as he squeezes back.

“Oh yeah?” Buck flirts, eyes shining as he looks over at Tommy, shining under the overhead lights of the bathroom. “And what are you gonna do?”

“Well I don’t know about you,” Tommy teases, releasing Buck’s hand and smiling. A coy little tilt to his mouth, shining eyes. “But I figured I’d start here.”

And then he’s locking eyes with Buck, gaze darkening, as he reaches an arm behind his head to grip at his shirt and pull it over his head. Buck watches the shifting his muscles as he rolls out his shoulders, the grin on Tommy’s face as he shakes out his hair. As he puts on a little show knowing that Buck is watching.

Trailing down the length of his body, his pecs — shining with sweat, his abs, the trail of hair that dips below his shorts. Buck licks his lips, smirking back at his boyfriend.

“You sure I can’t just stay right here?” Buck teases with a tilt of his head. Angles his body, flexes his restless hands. “Keep watch. Make sure you don’t hurt yourself. I-I’m a firefighter, you know?”

Tommy huffs out a laugh, face crinkling up in that now achingly familiar way as he throws his damp shirt to the ground. Neither of them watch to see where it lands. “I’ll be fine. You can look all you want later.”

“You promise?” Buck flirts, deepening his voice and eyes darkening as he roams his gaze over Tommy’s naked torso.

"I promise," he says, smirking back over at his boyfriend. Teasing. Flirting. Just the way Buck likes.

"I'm gonna hold you to to that," Buck teases back, delaying the inevitable moment where he rips his gaze away from Tommy. From his now exposed chest, the sweaty tanned planes of his skin. Exposed and tempting. He bites his lip, eyes wandering over Tommy one last time. Drinks in the sight of him, the feel of his gaze locked with his.

He eventually gives in and turns to the shower. Opens the door and turns the water on, fidgeting with the controls. Trying to find the sweet pot between too hot and too cold.

Tommy, Buck was learning, was almost always cold. Always wearing an undershirt, or had a jacket thrown over his outfit. Always had a throw blanket draped over the back of his couch, or pulled over his legs. Thrived in the hot summer sun, and loved his showers scorching hot.

Buck was fine with the cold. If anything, the LA sun was an adjustment for him. Was walking around in shirts when everyone else was donning long sleeves. Layers. Found there was nothing wrong with a cool refreshing shower.

Hence, the need to find the sweet spot between not too hot, and not too cold. Logically Buck knew as soon as they were both in the shower together their attention would be drawn away from as something as simple as temperature. Towards sweat and skin and the heat of their bodies pressed together. But he couldn't help but try. Try and make it good for Tommy, for himself, for the both of them together. Find the sweet spot that worked for the both of them.

He wanted to make it work.

Logically he knows that it’s just a shower, that they’ll be distracted soon anyway, but he can’t help but want to make it good for Tommy. Make the water a little hotter than normal, just for him. Show Tommy that he wants to take care of him too, that he’s learning things about Tommy and he wants to keep learning.

There’s a rustle of clothes behind him, a squeak of shoes against tiled floors, barely audible over the sound of the now running shower. Buck bites his lip, barely holding back a grin, as he dutifully continues adjusting the water. Arm reaching in, feeling the water run over his hand. Wet and heating up quickly.

He’s barely focusing on the water. Letting the rush of water splashing against tile wash over him like white noise, absently adjusting the temperature and pressure of the water as he focuses on the sounds behind him. Of Tommy toeing off his shoes and peeling off his socks, placing them in a pile by the door. In that way Buck is noticing he almost always does. His stomach swoops at the thought — that Tommy’s been around enough for Buck to start to notice more of his habits.

Then Buck swears he hears the sound of Tommy’s gym shorts hitting the floor, and he can’t hold back the sharp inhale of air. Warm and cloying with steam, holding in his lungs.

Buck makes himself keep looking at the shower.

Hair at the back of his neck standing on end, goosebumps rolling down his arm as he feels Tommy’s presence behind him. Sweaty, naked, so fucking hot — and Buck’s not looking at him. The unspoken rule that they’ve created, when Tommy took the lead and told him to turn around. Start the shower.

Heat pooling low in his gut, that familiar itch burning underneath his skin, Buck’s in the middle of giving in and turning around anyway when he feels it. His hands on his waist, thick and calloused and burning into his side through the thin fabric of his shirt. Breath hitching as he feels the sheer presence of Tommy behind him.

Tilting his head to try and get a look at his boyfriend behind him, holding in place as Tommy slowly presses closer to him. He catches a glimpse of him smirking, face crinkling up in that way it does, before Tommy squeezes his waist and closes the distance between them.

Buck gasps as he feels Tommy press up behind him, all hard muscles and sweaty skin. Calloused hands holding him tight as Tommy’s cock presses up against his ass. One hand still braced in the shower, feeling the rush of water; the other reaching backwards to try and get a hold of any part of Tommy. To press him even closer, to feel his skin burning into his.

Now that he has this, now that he knows this about himself, Buck really doesn’t know how he didn’t realise this earlier. His attraction to men, and masculinity, and the way it made him feel. Broad shoulders and hands larger than his. Hard muscles and hairy bodies.

But a part of him actually really likes that Tommy was the one who helped him realise. That he’s not just attracted to men, he’s attracted to Tommy. He likes Tommy’s broad shoulders and mechanics hands. His muscles and the snail trail that leads down his abdomen. He likes his short hair and 5 o’clock shadow. He likes the way Tommy makes him feel. He likes the way Tommy shows up for him. To dinner, and to the café, and to hopefully many more.

He really likes the way Tommy is now kissing down his throat, leaving wet marks in his wake. Hands still on his waist, body pressed against him, enveloping his. Buck groans, tilts his head to give Tommy more room, and starts to rut backwards.

“I can’t help but feel,” Buck gasps, as Tommy nips at his skin and quickly soothes the mark with his tongue. “That I’m overdressed.”

“Oh you are, are you?” Tommy murmurs into his skin, and he can feel the sounds vibrating through them, rumbling his chest. “I can fix that.”

And the his hands are dipping lower, skating along his sides before pushing up the hem of his shirt. Achingly slow at first, skin on skin contact sending a shiver down Buck’s spine. Calloused hands sending out sparks. That itch under his skin building again, rising and burning with each inch of skin Tommy touches.

His boyfriend laughs behind him, calls him impatient, before kissing his neck again. And then they’re stripping him down, faster now, hands on waists and chests and grasping at fabric. Tommy pulling off his shirt and Buck kicks off his shoes, not caring where they land. He thinks he absently hears them thump on the wall before Tommy gets his hands on his shorts and all of a sudden Buck is very distracted.

He absently thinks how hot it would be if Tommy just ripped his shorts right off his body, as he grips onto the shower while Tommy slides his shorts and his underwear down his legs in one fell swoop. Hands gripping the waistbands, fingers curled under the elastic, pressed into his bare skin.

As soon as he’s free he grabs Tommy’s wrist and pulls, sending the two of them tumbling into the shower. Water burning hot, soothing worn out muscles and sweaty skin. Tommy dutifully following behind, closing the door behind him.

They instantly forget about the water. Focusing on sweat and skin and soap and their two bodies pressing together. Water soaked kisses where their spit mixes with the spray of the shower. Slick bodies moving in tandem, and yet rooted to the spot.

Tommy’s planting his feet and bracing an arm on the wall behind Buck. He’s making sure they don’t slip, that Buck’s safe in his arms. And if anything, that’s what drives Buck to determination. To grasp their cocks in one hand, to want to make Tommy gasp and moan and grunt as he comes apart.

He loves the noises Tommy makes. Cataloguing them in his head, making note of what he can do to pull a noise out of Tommy. Figuring out what he likes and what he loves. The exploration, the figuring things out has always been a favourite part of sex for Buck. He’s a good fuck, he knows this, but it’s the exploring what his partners like and wants is what really drives him. It’s not enough to be a good fuck in general, he wants to be a good fuck to them.

To Tommy.

He wants to be good for Tommy. To hear him groan and moan Buck’s name. To hear him say perfect, and right there, just like that, and you’re so good to me Evan.

There’s going to be a lot of soft, tender sex in their future, Buck knows this for certain. Doesn’t even have to ask. Tommy will pick him up and carry him upstairs like he weighs nothing, gently lowering him down onto his bed, gaze soft and loving. They’re going to fuck face to face, so Buck can hold Tommy’s hand and they can kiss each other senseless. Slow and sensual, the two of them sinking into the moment as they sink into each other. Kissing all the words that are too soon to say into each other’s mouths.

Buck can’t fucking wait.

#911 #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #kinley #tevan #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #My Writing #it's done!#ive shared snippets of this before so if some of this looks familiar thats why

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chleem · 21 hours

Text

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ ps: chapter one soon! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Talk about a scandal.

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child.

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer.

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office.

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at?

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues.

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange.

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him.

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place.

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover.

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it.

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing.

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal.

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him.

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well.

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make.

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself.

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease.

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

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

word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #actor #actress #fanfic #series #drew starkey x you #fiction #obx #flashing lights #prologue #angst #fake dating #slow burn #enemies to lovers

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 2 days

Text

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 12

Lena's entire body seems to buzz as they hover in the wings offstage, waiting for the cue to proceed. She bounces on the balls of her feet, fingers twisting together with uncharacteristic nerves, completely unlike the staid presence she'd run into under the National City arena.

"You okay?" she asks hesitantly.

"I've never shared new music live before," Lena confesses. "What if they hate it?"

"Nah," Kara dismisses. She smiles. "They'll love it, cuz its you."

If nothing else, the novelty-- the privilege-- of witnessing a live performance of a never-before-heard song would ease any negativity the song itself might earn down the line. Even Kara herself hasn't had a chance to hear it.

The nearest stagehand motions one minute to go. Finally, Lena stills, taking a moment to breathe deep.

"You've got this," Kara promises, before stepping away.

The lights dim, then go out entirely as the pre-show music quiets. In its place lifts a deafening roar from the crowd. Its so dark Kara doesn't see Lena move into position. One minute she's there, and the next an overhead spotlight snaps on to illuminate Lena centerstage, arm stretched high.

She waits for the din to just start to fall away, and then she's off without a single shred of her anxiety from just moments before. Her movements are strong and confident as she strides across the stage, playing to the crowd in just the right way to get them pumped and engaged for the next two hours.

Her first song is the same from the National City show, as is the second, and third. Kara doubts anything has changed, no doubt so rehearsed Lena could do it all in her sleep, singing included. But watching it again feels an all new experience.

It steals her breath away, and she only comes back to herself when Lena slows, reaching for a mic stand. This is it.

"I know you guys came here prepared to sing along with every word," Lena begins, even her speaking voice rich like velvet. "Which I'm sure you can sing better than I can at this point."

She earns a raucous burst of laughter, and prompts a giggle from Lena.

"But I'm afraid this next one is going to be all me... cuz I've a little something new for you tonight."

Kara thinks she might have lost her hearing, ears ringing in the answering explosion of cheers. Lena patiently waits for the opening to continue, grinning all the way.

"It's pretty self-explanatory once you hear it, but here's the thing: you know that ex who keeps reaching out? Believe it or not, I have one."

Another round of laughter, and a little bit of hollering.

"I thought I blocked him on everything, but I must have missed something, because guess what I got?" Lena pauses for comedic effect. "A cashapp payment for three dollars and thirty three cents."

Laughter fills the arena, and Lena joins with a delighted giggle. "The note of course asked me to call him, but... I don't know. What do you think?"

Cries of No! and Don't do it! echoed from various areas of the audience, and Lena nods.

"I think we're on the same page then. Three dollars and thirty three cents doesn't earn you a phone call..." Lena leans in close to the microphone. "But it might just earn you a song."

The audience laps it up, eliciting even more whooping cheers. Lena nods, half to herself, and half to the audience.

"Let's hit it!"

As soon as the music starts, Lena shifts effortlessly back into performance mode. Kara listens, bopping along to the bouncing beat and playful lyrics. Playful but scathing, it turns out, listing off all the reasons this mysterious ex will never see her again.

From her spot in the wings, Kara sees the crowd dancing, not singing but cheering and spinning and bouncing and absorbing it all with reckless abandon. She registers Lillian's approach beside her, but doesn't so much as glance at her. Whatever Lillian thought about Lena's plan, it was working. Tomorrow, all the world would care about is getting their ears on this new song-- and they would love it.

"You have no idea the bullet she just dodged for you."

Kara does look over at that. Her brow furrows sharply, and Lillian smirks as she watches her daughter perform.

"This time tomorrow, the world is going to be so busy sleuthing out which of her ex's this song is about, they won't even remember your name."

Onstage, Lena finishes her song with a boisterous laugh, letting the fresh cheers roll over her. Lillian turns to Kara, leaning in close.

"So when you ultimately decide this fantasy isn't for you, remember that a twenty four year old is the reason you'll still have a real life to go back to."

#supercorp #musician age gap au #another shortie but goodie #not sure I'll be able to post any more today #so wanted to put this up now before I forgot #lemme know what you thiiiiiiiiink

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le-panda-chocovore · 2 days

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Toji isn't a man of words, yet alone feelings. But he knows when he is in love, he just finds it hard to express himself. What he doesn't know is that it shows. He shows it, all the time, and it's so clear and obvious that Shiu feels his heart stop each time it happens. It's all in the little gestures, the soft looks, and the daily things Toji does when he's with him.

Toji doesn't sleep much, because he doesn't like to and because he's a really light sleeper, and noise can wake him. So he's often the first to open his eyes in the morning, but he doesn't move. He lets the sun rises by the window and lights up the room with its warm rays. He looks at Shiu still in the dream world, breathing lightly, and looking so comfortable. Toji never wakes him up, but he realizes immediately when Shiu stops dreaming. The first thing he does is kissing him. On the forehead, on the cheek, or in the lips, depending on the mood. And he teases, "Hey sleeping beauty, welcome back to the living world." And it makes Shiu groans, but he likes it. It's sweet, it's soft, and it helps him waking up better.

Toji isn't a good cook, but he knows Shiu is excellent at that. And Shiu hates having Toji in the kitchen because the man is a mess and makes a mess. He keeps talking nonsense and tries to eat the food Shiu's cooking. If not, he tries to steal food in the fridge. But Shiu can't bring himself to kick the man out when Toji slides behind him and puts his hands and Shiu's hips. Toji then lets his chin on Shiu's shoulder, maybe gives him a kiss on the cheek or the neck, and calmly hums. His grip is light enough to let Shiu move freely. Sometimes he asks, "what are you cooking today ?" and sometimes he doesn't say a thing. Sometimes he opens his mouth to ask for a taste of the food, and sometimes Shiu feels generous enough to let him have it.

Toji is a freeloader, he has no shame in that and doesn't plan to give Shiu his money back at all. But he can be nice sometimes, he doesn't like feeling in debt and Shiu has been generous toward him for a long time. So Toji tries to find ways to pay him back. At first, when their relationship was something blurry between Coworkers with Benefits and an actual couple, he proposed to suck Shiu's dick, or any kind of good sex. Now, Toji makes sure not to eat Shiu's favorite dish when he grabs something from the fridge. He finds pretty jewelry and perfume at the place of the target he just killed so he takes it and brings it to Shiu's place because he knows he finished Shiu's expensive shampoo the week prior. He buys something (food, clothes, keychain, some pretty decoration) with the money from a job he took and then "forgets" it at Shiu's place, and never asks for it back.

Toji doesn't like alcohol, but whenever they eat together he takes a bottle of wine out of Shiu's cellar to put it on the table, because he knows Shiu likes his breaded pork with some Merlot. And when Shiu looks like he had a rough day, Toji looks for some whiskey or soju and pretends he wants to drink something awful to go with the mood, but in the end he's just giving his glass to Shiu.

Toji is very soft after sex, he is actually a sweetheart once his desires are satisfied. He strokes Shiu's face and let his fingers runs slowly against his spine and smiles so lovely when he feels the body shivers against him. He asks Shiu if he's fine, if he wants to shower now or later, if he needs a drink or anything. And if Toji topped, he carries Shiu to the shower and helps him get clean, then carries him outside the bathroom to the bed, and he cuddles against the man until they both fall asleep. If Toji was the bottom, he would lean towards Shiu's touch and breathe deeply against his skin. He would leave little kisses on Shui's shoulder, neck, and cheeks, and he'd hum softly when his man slid a hand in his hair.

Toji knows his boyfriend is tense whenever he has to deal with some clients, and he knows Shiu is worried after a big job. Because people in the underworld aren't clean, and because the man gets people killed for a living, and they both know the risks. It happened before, it can and will happen again. Sometimes the family of a target tries to reach for him and take revenge. Sometimes a contractor betrays the engagement and tries to put Shiu to silence. And sometimes, Shiu is simply very tired to negotiate with rich assholes. He doesn't sleep well when this happens. So Toji rolls in the bed and spoons him, and kisses the back of his neck or head and says it's fine. He feels Shiu relax a bit in his arms, so he kisses him again and holds him closer.

Toji isn't a coffee drinker, even though he can occasionally enjoy a cup. But when Shiu spends the entire day in his office, answering calls and writing emails, not taking time for lunch and looking physically and mentally exhausted, Toji turns on the coffee machine and brings his man a cup, shuffles his hair, and teases him about the face he's making. Sometimes it convinces Shiu to give up and take a break, other times it lightens him enough to endure the work a bit longer.

Toji is an addicted gambler, but he decided early in the relationship that he would never use Shiu's money for his bets.

There are plenty of things that Toji isn't. First of all, he's not a sorcerer. It doesn't stop him from killing them, or anyone trying to hurt Shiu. There are also plenty of things that Toji is, and very few are positive. But for sure, Toji is a man in love, and the words never leave his mouth, but his kisses and his fingers and his eyes scream them as loud as they can every day. And it's enough for Shiu. It's plenty of enough.

#uh it was supposed to be short. like two or three times shorter than that. sorry lol #fushiguro toji #kong shiu #shiutoji #jjk headcanon #mini fic #i guess ??#jujutsu kaisen #tojishiu #jjk fic #in which toji doesnt realize his attitude is full of love and care #and shiu notices everything but says nothing

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thoughtsonkm · 2 days

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Goodbye, for now

BABY? HONEY? BOYFRIEND SHOT? Jikook you're too much!

This episode was truly the best way to end the show, maybe even the best episode of the series. (Neck in neck with episode 2 of course) The way they enjoyed it so much but were also so sad it was over. The hot tension all around, the soft boyfriends mood who can't stop flirting and name calling each other with the most low-key couple-like sweet names. They could not stop laughing, they could not stop touching and they couldn't stop being hilarious without even trying.

SK Spotify daily chart end of November 2023 :

Jimin Jungkook Jimin Jungkook Jimin Jimin

It would be such a full circle moment if Jimin posted the boyfriend photo (which won't happen). Would almost be like a soft launch of some sort.

Not the underwear too?? Gosh I love my little gay freaks!! (didn't understand why Jimin would quote their 'yet another inner joke meme' right at that moment but I've learned to not question their inner workings)

Sorry but i have to be pretty one last time and say that I kinda had enough of seeing so much from the crew around or even in Jikook's shots and angles. It breaks the fourth wall a little too much and ruins the whole bubble idea. Ok I'm done lol

Returning to the issue at hand, the "seeing the beds for the first time" scene keeps getting funnier and funnier. As if they don't already have designated sides of the bed 😏

Ah the never ending bickering gives me life. Peep the half korean half english talk when they playfully get on each others nerves 👀😂

I better not speak on the scuzzi jacuzzi shenanigans cause otherwise.. Let's just say the photo speaks for itself..

NO YOU KNOW WHAT IMMA SPEAK. We all know that jacuzzi time is always intimate, relaxing and personal for people that's why I wish Jikook had enjoyed it fully without cameras. Yes I'm pissed on their behalf, that they had to film the whole thing with 382929 different angles. lol

His face is literally saying "oh so you're really gonna make me do it huh? if I was in your place I would've folded immediately and would've never let you go through with it!!" 😂

No one ever:

Jikook every 2sec : HONEY OH HONEY

(I was actually listening to the song while writing this and idk why it's so funny to me even tho it's a sad love ballad)

They must've loved getting the chance to at least see one episode of the show, plus the idea of watching it together..

Jungkook being so entertained by it meanwhile Jimin being mortified about half of the things that happened. HILARIOUS

HAHAHHAHAHA all parties were concerned if they'd be able to pull it off, I can't

BEST BELIEVE they're always gonna find a way to touch. Consciously or unconsciously.

This show made me realize that my favourite thing ever is Jk making food for Jimin, then making him hysterically laugh and therefore getting to hear Jimin's adorable giggles.

"Hello it is I the one and only, the only one who can touch Jimin's head ble ble ble ble" - JK

Jk was like: How can you imagine Jimin without me in your dream? Are you crazy? What is this delusional dream world you live in Jin hyung??

Tbh it's so meaningful and a huge thing saying that these trips were literally the best trips of your life. I think the statement almost went over people's heads.

I can't get enough of Jimin looking pretty and cuddly and Jungkook's immediate thought being: I HAVE TO FILM YOU

Them saying they can do a reboot when they come back gave me some hope that maybe just maybe this is not the end of AYS 😭

The ending bonus clip left me fulfilled but also sad and with goosebumps all over.

Thank you Jimin & Jungkook for letting us peek into this trip and getting to witness some of your precious moments.

Signing off, J&J 🥹

Ps. So I'm guessing the 52 minute video that comes with the photobook is probably the 3 bts videos combined that they've been reviewing for 48392 months right?

#jikook #kookmin #jimin #jungkook #bts #bangtan #are you sure?!#jikook travel show #ep. 8 #september 2024 #final episode😭

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orimuraa · 22 hours

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꒰♡꒱ Dear. My darling - OT7

(synopsis) ༊*·˚ it was so painful for enhypen not to miss youೄྀ

ot7 enhypen x fem!reader ༊*·˚ HEAVY angst ༊*·˚ main character death ༊*·˚ enha dealing with your death ༊*·˚ death, crying, mentions of sickness ༊*·˚ wc 1.8k

jiji’s note: i’m so sorry for the heart wrenching angst. i’m in a mood rn and this is what came out of it. pls do not read if you have trouble reading about loss of a loved one. if you are struggling with something like this, my inbox is always open <3

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

wow. you were really gone. it’s been weeks since you left this cruel world and heeseung hasn’t been able to realize that you really were gone. you didn’t deserve to leave. you were the purest person on this earth and heeseung was the luckiest man on earth to have you. you were so, so, so strong up until your final breath. you had fought so hard to stay awake everyday and heeseung was right there with you on your hospital bedside. you had asked him, “when i leave, promise me that you won’t miss me too much okay?” and he wanted to promise you that and so much more. that it would be okay. that you would make it out well and healthy. but you both knew that that was just a fantasy too far out of reach. the doctors had told you and heeseung that your condition had only gotten worse and your days were limited now. heeseung took a whole month off of work just so he could stay by your side every minute of the grueling days. the sound of your labored breathing was like a stab to his heart each time he heard it. your were in so much pain and he couldn’t do anything to fix it.

the day you left him, a part of soul left him as well. you were his everything. he treasured you so greatly and to think that he wouldn’t be able to see you anymore hurt like hell. he hadn’t realized he was crying until he felt his tears drip onto his pants. how could he keep his promise to you when all he could think of was just missing everything about you? but he was determined to live till the day that you and him would be able to reunite with each other without any pain or care in the world. he knew that you were doing so much better now that you were free of your pain and that you would always be with him. always.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

it took a long three days for jay to finally realize that you were gone and that you weren’t coming back. the world had been so cruel to you and it resulted in you having to stay in the dreaded hospital for your last days on this earth. the hospital was the place you had despised most. knowing fully well that your illness was incurable, you had told jay, “promise me you won’t be too sad” how could he not? the love of his life was bound to this hospital bed and the life in your eyes was slowly fading away. the bright smile you always wore had become a rare sight nowadays and jay’s heart was shattering with each and every awful day that passed. on a cold afternoon, you took your final breath on this world with your loving boyfriend right by your side, whispering how he would find you in every lifetime just to be with you again.

jay didn’t know how long he cried for but what he did know was that his tears couldn’t bring you back. he knew it was selfish of him to wish that you were somehow still alive knowing that you were probably free of any pain you were in when you were on earth. he hated how he couldn’t keep his promise with you. he hated how you wouldn’t be there to brighten up his world anymore. when you left, you took jay’s soul away with you. you were his everything. how could he live without you?

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

jake dreaded every passing day, knowing that your condition was only getting weaker and weaker. a couple months ago, you were diagnosed with an illness that was incurable. that was jake’s worst day of his life. now, in the final days of your life, he was here with you, right beside your bed. he made sure that your hospital room looked nice and neat just the way you like it and he never left you alone. everyday, you would tell him just a little bit more how much you loved him. he knew the reason. he knew it was all because you were slowly fading away. he could see it in the way your eyes never twinkled anymore, and the way your smile was never quite full. every little word that came out of your mouth was filled with so much pain. he also knew that the best thing for you was to just be able to rest. to be free of this cruel and awful world that had cursed you, the purest of angels. you deserved nothing like this, yet look where you were now. stuck to a hospital bed, slowly and painfully losing your life.

the day you let go, jake couldn’t accept the fact that you were gone. his friends had to come and pick him up from the hospital just for him to attempt to run back in, saying you needed him next to you. the truth was, he needed you next to him. he cried himself to sleep every night since that day, missing you more and more as the time went by. jake knew that you wouldn’t have wanted him to be this miserable. he could just imagine you wiping his tears for him and telling him not to cry too much for you. but how could he not when his light in this dark world just went out? he couldn’t bear thinking of what life would be like without you. he just couldn’t.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

sunghoon felt like his heart was just ripped out. seeing you take your last breath in that god awful hospital room was so heartbreaking for him to witness. the way your eyes had so much pain in them but the smile you tried to put on for him is something he could never ever forget. why did you have to be cursed by this world? why was it always the purest of people? you were nothing but an angel to this world yet you still got sick, limiting your time with sunghoon.

exactly a month after your death, sunghoon wrote a letter to you. he wrote it because he wasn’t sure how else to cope on this day. he wanted to let you know that he was trying so hard to be strong for you, but it hurt so bad. he missed you so much. the way your eyes would crinkle into little crescents when you smiled, and your warm, infectious laugh, he would never be able to experience this ever again. he held so much guilt in his heart for not being able to keep your promise to him. he promised to you that he would try his hardest to move on just like you wanted for him, but he just couldn’t. he didn’t know how to cope with anything at the moment and he certainly had no plans of moving on. he just couldn’t keep his promise.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

seeing your brightness slowly fade into darkness was sunoo’s nightmare. he hated how he had to watch the brightest person ever slowly get consumed by the dark. your illness was a mystery to the doctors and it had been a surprise. it happened so suddenly and sunoo had no idea how to handle it. he stayed with you everyday and made sure that your were never alone, knowing deep down that these were probably his last moments with you. on the day of your passing, sunoo cried and cried and cried. he felt so helpless and heartbroken that he was afraid he would never do anything else in his life except cry. cry for you. you would’ve never wanted him to be this devastated but it was something you couldn’t control. he knew that if you ever saw him now, you would break down at the sight. he was a wreck since you left him. he wasn’t sure how to move on or just move to the next step from there. a part of his soul died the same day you did, leaving him with half a soul, and a broken heart.

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

you were so young. you didn’t deserve anything that happened to you. the doctors had diagnosed you with a sickness that was limited your days on the earth after an accident you had. jungwon never left you alone and always made sure to be with you every second you were awake, savoring his last few moments with you. it was supposed to be any day now where your body would give out and jungwon would lose the one person in life who made life worth living for. before you passed, you had told him, “i want you to be happy when i’m gone. i don’t want you being stuck on me and not moving on. please promise me that” and at the time, he was willing to do whatever you wanted since it would be your last wish, but now, he hated the idea of moving on from you. there was no way he could ever let you go.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村力

having to deal with your passing at such a young age was so hard for ni-ki. you had gone down with an unknown illness and the doctors said that your days were limited now. ni-ki was with you every step of the way up until your death. he loved you so much and he just couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. the day you had passed away was the hardest thing ni-ki ever had to go through. you were such a bright and bubbly person so him seeing you so lifeless and low made his heart break. you would always re-assure him that you were doing fine and just a bit tired, but ni-ki saw right through it. he knew how much you were struggling because you still had so much you wanted to accomplish in your lifetime. you and ni-ki had once shared your dreams for your futures to each other and it now pains him to realize that you would never be able to love out your dream.

a week after your passing, ni-ki and his hyungs went to go get flowers to honor you. jake had told him that maybe he just needed to write a letter of closing to you. to let you know how proud he was of you for fighting so hard for so long. he had so much he wanted to say to you but the realization that he would never be able to talk with you again really struck deep. he knew he had to recover for you, but he would never move on. he promised himself that he could never love again. he felt that he would be betraying you even if you wanted him to move on after you were gone. but god, he would miss you so much. but at least now, you were in the stars.

i'm sorry for the heavy angst :( it was rlly hard for me to write as it just reminded me of my grandma's passing but funny enough, i think this helped me get out some emotions i didn't know i needed to. if you're ever struggling, i want my inbox to be a safe space for everyone to just come and vent if needed. i want to be a safe space for people in need. tysm for reading everyone. feedback is very appreciated <3

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yourladyem · 21 hours

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Beetlejuice 2 Thoughts

Lydia doesn't freak out at the end screaming when she wakes up either time. Nor demanding answers. Nor checking that he's truly gone. It's like when you wake up and are shocked your spouse is not next to you when you've dreamt about them. Plus, the sheets and pillowcase are wrinkled on "his side" while she stays on her side on her back in her own area. She's shocked but not terrified like she was during the beginning of the film where she had panic attacks when she saw him.

He never tried to force her to kiss him during the wedding or any other time after her refusal during the couple therapy session. He didn't force himself onto her like Rory did constantly. She didn't push Beetlejuice off or stop him from kissing her hand. She's not grossed out but doesn't like it when Rory tries to kiss her at any time.

He knew Rory was using her and thought it was about time Lydia knew without him trying to convince her. He waits until she's about to marry Rory then makes him reveal the truth. Thought it was interesting Beetlejuice didn't say anything during the couple's therapy session. Maybe he was trying to show Lydia that Rory wasn't who he was by scaring him until he fainted and Rory denying the situation. Maybe even punishment for not taking Lydia's warnings seriously and Beetlejuice punishing him for how he treated Lydia allowing her to give Rory the final blow to the face.

She's not angry at Beetlejuice when he taped her mouth. It's more like "Really? We're doing this?" Like an annoyed friend who's used to it then she somehow figured out how to get it off allowing his antics then questions his stalking and not defending Rory or checking on him even when they got back their world.

Hesitates accepting Rory's "affections" including his proposal. She doesn't really want to marry him. She tries to convince herself she loves Rory. She doesn't really care for his presence. Beetlejuice, on the other hand, she immediately agreed to marry him without hesitation. She doesn't fight him off during the wedding scene or tries to back out.

Delores automatically gets jealous over the picture of teenage Lydia on Beetlejuice's desk. She doesn't know who Lydia is so why was her immediate reaction pure jealousy?

Astrid never rejects Beetlejuice's suggestion of calling him Dad. As outspoken as Astrid is and how much she misses her Dad, Richard, she doesn't say anything even after the contract was voided. She smiles when Beetlejuice sends Jeremy to Hell. Even Richard smiles.

Lydia's only excuse for not marrying Beetlejuice was their age difference. Nothing else. Not his personality, not his antics, not his stalking, not unrequited love, not even the way he looked and he was dead. Just the age difference. You'd think after being terrorized and angry that he's back and screaming at him to get out of her life, that she would have given him better reasons.

Lydia never makes a remark of never loving him or it's never going to happen between them. Even when he serenades her with Richard Marx. She's not grossed out or snapping at him. She's just watching him.

Every time he calls her "Honey" she doesn't protest. Never protested about her wedding dress like she did with Rory's wedding dress suggestions. Never protested on his analogy of them being like Bonnie and Clyde. Never questioned him when he wanted he to remarry the love of his life (her).

She grieved Richard which sent her to the group where she met Rory but showed no real remorse when she saw him again. She doesn't hug him or kiss him goodbye. No tears. No closure talk of how much she missed him or how he felt. She doesn't try to remarry him to revive him for Astrid's sake. They act like they are friends with no romance between them. They could have passed for siblings almost the way they interacted. Beetlejuice could have intervened dragging her away but he doesn't, instead he takes Richard's place at the window so Lydia and Astrid can have the closure they need.

Wedding scene gave Labyrinth Ballroom dancing scene vibes. Immortal man singing his feelings to the woman he loves. The girl is conflicted with her feelings. Same look from the women as the man sings to her. Gaping at him.

Lydia's look of regret/remorse when Beetlejuice blows up when she sends him away.

Doesn't burn the model like she demands earlier to prevent seeing him again.

Lydia never thanked Beetlejuice for his help with Astrid, Rory, or Delia.

Richard never tried reaching out to Lydia or Astrid when he checked in on him. No connection but Lydia has connections with other ghosts so it's not because he's less powerful than Beetlejuice. While Beetlejuice has a connection with Lydia for 30 years. You'd think Richard would have tried to find a way to connect to them. Meanwhile there's Beetlejuice.

What happened to the book at the end of Beetlejuice talking about the Living and Dead coexisting?

Beetlejuice doesn't put a ring on Lydia's hand during their second wedding. He takes his time with her compared to the first film (granted she was a teenager and Burton wasn't going to have it). He just wants to spend time with her as much as he can telling her how he feels and romancing her in his own way.

Beetlejuice doesn't stop Lydia from saying this name like he did with the tape during the couple's therapy session.

Delores and Rory would be a perfect villain couple going up against Beetlejuice and Lydia along with Delia and Charles as their side team. Maybe an actual love interest for Astrid too. The battle between the couples would be awesome. Delores seemed quite taken with Rory when she saw him and he immediately stayed close to her including wrapping his arm around her. And we know you can come back from being eaten by a sandworm.

The interviews of the actors are shipping the couple. They don't brush it off but encourage it. It's like they are teasing for a third film to see how people react. If they weren't, why promote the romance between them so much all of a sudden? Even Warner Brothers studios promoted a fan's video that emphasized the Beetlejuice/Lydia romance. Even the studio.

Michael always talks like he's still Beetlejuice and Winona is still Lydia after wrapping up filming. "Ask her. She'll tell you. She said secretly wants to marry me." "Secretly, we're kind of in love with each other. She secretly wants to marry me." Admitted they have definite chemistry. And they'd thought that for a long time. Thought it was cute. They should do a movie together outside of Beetlejuice.

Tim didn't protest the romance between them either.

#beetlejuice #beetlelyds #beetlebabes #beetlejuice x lydia #michael keaton #winona ryder #beetlejuice beetlejuice #lydia x beetlejuice

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just-a-ghost00 · 1 day

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Celeb series : channeled advice from your bias' higher self

Group 1

Cards : 2 of coins, 7 of swords, Strength, 3 of pentacles, Death, 9 of wands

Be mindful of the way you spend your time and energy. Of course, work is important but... are you getting any rest? Are you even eating properly? I don't want you to be sick and tired. I don't want you to be exhausted and forced to step away from what you love because of that. You have to be strategic. I know how much of a hard worker you can be. No one can take that away from you and I am proud of you for the efforts you put in your success, your studies, your job. I hope you are proud of yourself too. But remember that you are not alone. You don't have to handle all this pressure on your own. You can count on me too. You can come and rest on my shoulder. I will lend you a bit of my joy and energy if that gives you comfort, if that brightens your day. I would be happy if I could lighten up your load and make your life a little easier. Remember that you are human and you deserve to have fun, to spend time with the people you love and doing the things that make you happy. You were not born to grind yourself to death. You were born to live and laugh and love. Lmao that sounds so cheesy but that's the truth. Hang in there. I know you can do it. I know you have it in you to be the most beautiful and successful being the world has ever known. I believe in you. When you feel down or stressed, please don't mull it over all alone in your corner. Come to me and let's chat it out. Maybe I can help you. Okay? Love you.

Shufflemancy : Are you having any fun? by Elaine Stritch, Freak like me by Halestorm

Group 2

Cards : 8 of wands, page of pentacles, page of cups, Tower, knight of swords, 7 of swords

Don't hold back. Whatever you wanna say, say it. Whatever you wanna do, do it. Be you. Do you. Feel you. I know it, you know it. This life is too short to have any regrets or mourn it. So just live, shine bright, have fun. Learn as much as you can. Go as far as you can. Don't hold back for any of them hyenas who would be too happy to see you fail. Shake the world. Break the rules. There's no one like you. Speak your mind. Embody your truth. I see you. I feel you. I know what it's like. Don't share any of your tricks with them. They jealous. Let them choke on their venom. You got no time for their BS. Okay? You're a queen/king. You bow down to no one. The dumbest of them all is the one that never learns, never asks, never speaks up. But you know better, honey. I know you're going to nail it. I know you're a good one. I know you're gonna rock the world because you're a rockstar. Just don't stop, don't look back. Don't let anyone stop you. I'll cheer for you wherever you go, wherever you are, whatever you believe in. Don't be afraid of what you feel or what you want. Just embrace who you are. There is nothing to be ashamed of. You are perfect. I hope you see that. I am in awe at how gorgeous and smart you are. I'm your number one fan! Show me how it's done! Show me what you got.

Shufflemancy : Zoom by Jessi, OMG by Usher ft will.i.am

Group 3

Cards : 3 of pentacles, 10 of swords, 9 of pentacles, ace of pentacles, queen of wands, 9 of wands

It's important that you take care of your health. Especially if your mind isn't in the best place right now. I know how hard it can be. But I also know how resilient you are. You are going to get everything you want and more. I have no doubt about that. You are so patient and kind, so hard working. You carry yourself with such grace and humility that it would be impossible for you to fail. I can't imagine a world where you don't shine. It would be impossible not to love you and admire you. I wish I could be of help to you but to be honest I feel like I have nothing to teach you cause you give me so much more than I could ever give you. I know so little about this world, about this life. But I hope that you can find a friend in me. A reliable shoulder to lean on when you feel down. I hope that your days are bright and that I can contribute to that. If I can give you just a little piece of advice, it would be to find a community where you feel safe and like you can be your true self, show your vulnerable sides without fearing rejection or retaliation. Go at your own pace. One step at a time, make your dreams come true. I will help you in any way I can. If it's by sharing your work or giving you words of affirmation, I will. If it needs me listening to you ranting for hours, I will gladly do that. There's only so much that I can do and say, but I hope that it's enough. Know that I am always by your side. You are so beautiful. Never give up. Please don't forget about me when you're successful. Because I am sure that one day you will surpass me and the greatest of them all. And if that happens, I wish I can be part of your world.

Shufflemancy : R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys, I don't think I'm okay by Bazzi

#just-a-ghost #pick a card #pac reading #spiritual pac #tarot reading #shufflemancy #channeled messages

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carnelianly · 2 days

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this post contains noncon! please don’t read if that will be upsetting! i would never promote this in real life, and people, men or women, are always unable to consent to any kind of contact while intoxicated!

art is your friend. not your boyfriend. not your dog that you can tug around on a leash like you seem to think you can. he has a girlfriend. he’s madly in love with her. he doesn’t want you. sure, he can acknowledge that you’re pretty and he can tell himself, in the comforts of his own head ‘if i were single, i’d.. definitely go for her’. in another life, maybe he was yours. not in this one.

but he was invited out to the bar by patrick who also invited you and a couple other friends and he doesn’t mind your presence at all. you’re.. you’re nice enough. you may make him a little nervous when you smile like that, but that’s not for him to say. he keeps himself polite but distant in conversation with you.

he drinks a little too much. patrick always suggests shots and what is art supposed to do? say no? look like a pussy?

he downs them anyway, one after another until it’s two hours later and he forgets he’s barely eaten much all day and there’s so much alcohol in his system that he can’t stand up straight.

not to worry, you’re them to catch him before he falls over. patrick and the others are off talking about some nonsense, but you’re being so nice and helpful, you wipe the drool from his chin and fix his hair and he smiles faintly at you in gratitude.

you smile back at him, one arm holding him up since he’s not stable enough to stand on his own, half leaning on the bar counter and half relying on you to keep him up. your other hand is… art isn’t really paying attention. feels weird, though. it’s between his thighs, rubbing the skin softly, almost teasingly. art isn’t coherent enough to understand what’s happening.

you’re smiling at him, telling him everything is gonna be fine, because it will be. everything will be okay. he doesn’t have to worry, you’ll take care of him, keep him safe. there’s so many bad people in this world that might try to hurt him, steal his wallet, take advantage of him. you’re not like that. you’re just gonna keep talking to him like this until it’s time to leave and then you’re gonna take him home. he’s too drunk to get back to his place by himself, so you’ll just let him stay at yours. so gracious of you.

he listens because he has no other choice, and he’s not as much letting you touch him but not able to stop you. your hand is on his crotch, massaging him through his jeans, and he moans and he falls forward into you, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s weak. unable to do anything but take this treatment. your hand that was keeping him upright moves to his ass, always so plump and thick, god, he obviously does it for his girlfriend but he might as well have done it for you, in this moment.

you could so easily take what you wanted from him, especially because you’re sure he’s about to black out and remember nothing. but you’re a better person than that, you tell yourself. you’re just touching, you’re not gonna break anything.

you end up taking him into the bathroom, and he’s too drunk to know what he’s doing, but hey, he kissed you first, even if he’s tripping over his own feet and practically drooling into your mouth. it’s hot, and you feel him up some more. it feels wrong to fuck him, too permanent. he’d definitely know what happened then. he’s smart when he’s sober, smart enough anyway.

in the end, he’s taken home with patrick and a couple of buddies, taking a shared uber home while art is blacked out, while you go off by yourself.

the next time you see art, he definitely does not remember what happened that night. he does feel a little weird around you, but he can’t quite put his finger on why your presence is so.. uncomfortable all of a sudden…

#in an alternate universe where art is dating tashi and is still friends with patrick :3 #art donaldson #challengers #challengers art #art x reader #challengers art donaldson #challengers fic #challengers x reader #challengers smut #p♡

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 days

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hiya! was hoping I could request smut of G!p Donna body worshipping a ready with body image/confidence issues. Just Donna being absolutely obsessed with every part of reader, even the parts reader doesn’t like

Yessss!!!! Thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

Turn the light on

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, insecurities

Word count: 7,359

Summary: You think she never gonna like your body....

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))))

The kisses were soft, every time her lips landed on your skin it was like the best of caresses, the best of sensations.

Your body trembled in a subtle way while your head tried to concentrate on her caresses, on her soft hands that wanted to travel everywhere, to places where they never had the privilege of touching.

The smile, the courage you had that night was disappearing little by little, like a tire that deflates without you even realizing it until it is too late. The hand on the brunette's chest became firm when your arm tensed so the lady would not continue, so those mischievous hands would not lift your nightgown.

“What's wrong, tesoro?” Donna asked with a sad eye that already anticipated another of your rejections.

That realization was really what made you meditate on the two parts of your body: the part that wanted to continue, that cried out for you to leave any fear of that hot night behind. But there was also another part, one that couldn't stop imagining what would happen when that piece of clothing disappeared, when her hands ran over that body you were so ashamed of.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, with a sigh that struggled to be understanding. Maybe it was a while ago, now it was much harder for you to see the patience on her face.

However, you knew that fear could distort things, could form absurd paranoia in your mind. Donna said she would always wait for you, no matter how much.

You shook your head, not making eye contact, without the blush and fear on your face being noticed by the doll maker.

Wanting, not wanting... Your mind traveled between those two worlds but, that night, making an effort, you decided to let one of them prevail or, at least, you wanted to try to do so.

“No...” you whispered with shame making your words tremble. “But, but...”

The lady looked at you expectantly, kneeling on the bed, waiting to hear another of your excuses.

“(Y/N), calm down, I'm not in a hurry,” she said, bringing the hand that was previously traveling over your clothes to your cheek, almost tickling your skin.

Your mouth had become accustomed to smiling with her caresses and your cheeks burned shyly. How could you continue rejecting her? She was perfect.

“I know but... I, I want to do it,” you whispered, biting your lip, trying not to transmit that horrible fear with your gaze. “Mm, could you turn off the light?”

“The light? Perché?” she asked confused, blinking rapidly upon hearing your words.

You sighed, shaking your head, squeezing your eyes tightly and shrugging.

“I, I would feel more comfortable with the light off...” you explained, looking away.

Donna didn't answer. Luckily, she didn't ask any more questions, she didn't want to know the reason for your terrible embarrassment, so she obeyed your request, stretching out her arm and leaving that old bedroom completely dark.

“Okay...” she murmured, getting back on top of you, kissing you slowly, not in that messy and deep way. It was a kiss of comfort, a reassuring one. “Better?”

“Y-Yes,” you said, following the rhythm of those slow and short kisses, of those caresses that returned to your body, to your clothes.

You soon realized the light wasn't the problem.

You wondered if Donna could map you with just her hands, with her slender fingers, with her ability to move them. Maybe that's what she was doing; imagining what you would be like under that cloak of darkness, imagining with her caresses what the shape of your body would be like.

It was a thought that made you open your eyes and sink into what you thought was the safety of darkness. You didn't return the kisses. You simply prayed to the Black Gods that your body wouldn't be deciphered.

But time kept passing. Donna's kisses kept trying to distract you until, finally, her pale hand rested on your thigh and, as she raised it, your nightgown stayed on her wrist.

With a nervous gasp you brought your own hand to that spot, stopping the upward movement that threatened to strip you. You couldn't even stand it in the dark, you knew you couldn't, you knew that if Donna noticed your body, she would stop.

“Mm?” she murmured, confused, probably looking at you with a frown, with the look of disappointment that you imagined.

“On second thought... I think, I think I can't, Donna,” you whispered, your chest rising and falling quickly, with the heat of passion protesting loudly at your reluctance.

Another night, another failure.

“Fine,” she said, pulling away from you after one last quick kiss and a tired sigh.

“I'm sorry,” you apologized sincerely as you turned on the light, checking that no part of your body had been uncovered. “I'm so sorry.”

“Tesoro, don't apologize. It's okay, nothing's wrong,” Donna said, with a smile that you thought was fake.

The lady kissed you again, moving away definitively and sitting next to you, helping you to cover yourself with the sheets.

“I know it's not okay, I know I've failed you,” you commented with your mouth almost closed, playing with the fabric in your hands.

“You haven't failed me,” she said with a slightly hoarser voice, one voice similar to the one she had when you met her. “I just...” she said later, with a cautious tone. “I just want, I want to know what...”

“It's nothing important, I just...” you said quickly, clouding any shadow of doubt that could have been in the ventriloquist. “I'm not ready.”

“Mm,” the lady murmured, shaking her head, faking a smile.

“Donna,” you said, your voice sad, embarrassed, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Will you hug me?”

She looked at you slowly, with a radiant smile as she nodded, gesturing for you to come closer, to lean on her chest while her arms calmed your demons, while her lips rested tenderly on your hair.

“I'm sure you're sick of me,” you commented with a distracted look, playing with the fabric of her nightgown, trying to relax. She looked at you sharply, frowning.

“No, no, no, how can you say that? I'll never get sick of you,” she said in an almost pleading tone, lifting your chin so you would look at her, something you did before shifting on her body. “You're the love of my life, (Y/N)… You're everything to me.”

“No, not everything… I can't make love to you,” you whispered, camouflaging your voice on her chest.

The lady sighed, hugging you tighter. Her breathing was still agitated. The excitement could still be noticed in her movements. That made you feel even worse, making you sit up.

“I can, I can touch you if you want…” you said with a blush on your cheeks, with a shy voice broken by nervousness.

Donna looked at you with a frown, shaking her head.

“No, it's not necessary,” she said softly, studying each of your micro-expressions, each of the movements of your body. “It's not fair to you. Just, just tell me what worries you.”

“I don't know,” you lied, avoiding the tears from running down your cheeks.

“Is it because of my penis?” Donna asked, with that same understanding tone, always worried about the change the Black Gods made in her body.

“No, Donna,” you said with a more serious voice, moving her own demons away from that conversation, letting them not settle next to yours. “It's not that.”

“Okay…” she sighed, lying down more comfortably on the bed, removing you from her chest so your gaze wouldn't escape hers again. “Are you afraid of something? Are you afraid of the pain?”

“No, no, I… Well, the pain scares me but… It's not that, darling,” you said nervously, intimidated by that sudden interrogation.

That revealed Lady Beneviento's loss of patience. She never asked. She simply accepted your decision, until that day.

“So what is it?” the doll maker asked again, that time with a brusque tone, not asking, but demanding an answer, something that could explain your behavior.

You stepped back, unable to explain your true reasons, your true fears. Her voice sounded stern, demanding, nervous… Because of you.

“I need to cle-clear myself,” you said, suppressing a sob and getting up from the bed, walking towards the door.

“(Y/N), wait, I, I'm sorry,” the lady said, reaching out a hand to grab your wrist. “Don't go, amore mio… Forgive me.”

“I'll be right back just… I just need a moment,” you said, painfully removing her hand from your skin, feeling the cold that the lack of contact left on your body.

You walked through the halls of that gloomy basement, running your hand along the cracked walls, with your mind thinking many things and at the same time thinking nothing. That wandering walk took you to the bathroom, where the mirror was waiting to laugh at you.

With a sob, you turned on the sink, wetting your face with that ice-cold water, hoping that this way your mind could clear up.

Your gaze slowly went up to the mirror as you moved away, letting the reflection reveal more and more parts of your body. Without saying anything, sighing, you pulled up the fabric of your nightgown, looking at your figure, the figure that embarrassed you.

“No... She can't see me like this... I’m, I’m horrible,” you sobbed as you ran your hand over the marks on your skin, over the curves you were born with.

You were always a self-conscious girl. Since you were a child you suffered mockery for the marks on your body, for your freckles, for your scars... It might seem that they were simply children's stuff, that everything would pass with time but... You were wrong.

Adolescence only made it worse. Your body changed, deforming in a way you considered horrible. You weren't tall, you weren't especially thin, your body was horrible.

That shadow of your complexes led your soul to chain itself, to put on a protective shield that kept it away from suffering. Always with your books, with your drawings... You became a hermit without the right to be one, at least in a place like that.

That sinister village wasn't to blame for your problems. No one was to blame. The masses, the sermons, the Black Gods... None of that mattered to you especially, not even the Lords.

Your problems and your self-pity were always above your faith, above those prophecies of Mother Miranda. To live in a place like that never helped you, but you knew that if you lived somewhere else, nothing would change.

You were born that way, with that body, with those marks. Sometimes you wondered what kind of horrible thing your parents did, why they offended the Black Gods to punish them with such a horrible daughter.

Without friends, without beauty, without charisma, you became an inhabitant that no one paid attention to, a stain in a place full of light eyes, blonde hair and beautiful women, groups to which you didn’t belong at all.

In the midst of all that darkness, of boring masses you masterfully avoided by placing yourself in remote places (what nonsense, no one would notice you anyway) you achieved something you found hard to believe.

You caught someone's attention, not a villager, not a mocking child. There was something different about the usual sermons, some eyes you couldn't see, but you knew they were watching you.

That black dress, that sinister doll, that stoic pose and an almost ghostly presence...

You didn't know why, Donna Beneviento, youngest Lord, dangerous woman, mentally ill, the personification of fear for the village, had set her sights on you day after day, sermon after sermon.

Curiosity or simply a misinterpretation on your part, that's what you thought it was. No one could notice you, not even her, unless her sick mind wanted to torture you simply because she felt like it. It wouldn't be the first time it happened, you had heard rumors.

But rumors were always based on conversations where words danced at the whim of fearful villagers. When at last that dark lady came towards you with the church empty, you knew she wouldn't hurt you.

A hoarse voice came out from that black veil, a voice that cried out for your attention, that asked you why you couldn't get out of her head. It seemed impossible.

Luckily, she wasn't the only one. For a long time you had also been looking for her figure, you wondered what kind of woman she was.

Everything led to an incredible point, to a lot of walks, embarrassing dates with the lady in black. The smile began to replace your sad face and before you knew it, you were madly in love with her.

Not everything was light in that mansion. Donna Beneviento had problems, she was sick. She had developed an obsession with you that was difficult to understand. However, her jealousy, her clingy and almost dominant attitude didn’t make a dent in your feelings.

Yes, she was obsessed with you, not a day went by when her hands didn't touch your skin, when her lips didn't devour yours in silence. To her, you weren't just another girl, a piece of meat to have fun with. No, to her, you were much more than that.

The love she felt for you transcended her own appearance, the fear she felt when the veil disappeared from her face, when she had no choice but to be honest with you about her body.

You stayed by her side, you didn't run away. Yes, surely that obsession, that jealousy, that kind of adoration the lady in black had for you had a much more romantic explanation than a stupid mental illness.

You were that miracle, that person who saw far beyond appearances, the only person in the world who told her she was beautiful.

Everything was going well, perfect, even. Your life was a sea of kisses and caresses. Living with her in the mansion, well, and also with Angie, was the best decision of your life.

But your relationship was missing something that Donna wanted and that you were unable to give her.

Luckily, every day was a restart, a new opportunity to start from scratch, to forget that awkward moment that Donna never, ever remembered to you.

But the passage of time was capable of distorting things, even that kind and understanding attitude of the lady in black.

“You're not talkative today,” Donna commented during lunch.

The day had started well, but that was because the lady in black was spending time with her dolls, oblivious to your own worries.

“Yes, well...” you sighed, playing with your food and looking down.

“Have I done something wrong?” the lady asked, drinking some wine.

“No,” you said, sighing again, with a horribly fake smile. “It’s nothing.”

“It's nothing…” she murmured, half-closing her eye. You regretted your mistake, trying to improve that sad smile. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, well, thoughts, you know,” you said with an improved mood, trying by all means to erase that dark look of the lady.

“No, I don't know,” she said, with a serious, confused tone. “Tell me.”

You would have to invent something, and quickly.

“Well… I was, I was thinking about going to the village,” you said, with a sincere smile. She looked at you with that same intense gaze.

“What for?” she asked curiously, frowning. “Do you need something?”

“The truth is that I would like to buy some clothes,” you said calmer, relaxing your shoulders.

Her gaze didn’t change.

“Clothes…” Donna sighed, tilting her head. “I didn't know you were interested in clothes.”

“I'm not interested,” you said amused, pointing at your dress. “But I think that five years with the same dress are too many years, don't you think?”

“Mm, you want a dress,” she said, smiling tenderly to your relief, also noticing your used clothes. “What kind of dress?”

You shrugged, eating calmly, enjoying the dedication of the lady in black to please you with her recipes.

“Well… One, I guess,” you joked with a funny look. “One that suits me well…”

No, certainly talking about clothes wasn’t the best idea. Your complexes peeked into your mind, taking notice.

“Mm,” Donna said with a tender look, slowly getting up from the table and approaching you.

You lowered your head, blushing at that smile, at how lucky you were to always have her beauty by your side. She was so beautiful, so affectionate… So… Donna…

Her finger raised your chin while the lady studied your shy eyes. The smile didn’t leave her face.

“Everything suits well on a beautiful girl like you,” she murmured, leaning in to steal a sensual, tender kiss from you, one that tasted like wine.

You laughed shyly, moving away from her tender harassment while playing with her hands.

“Then wear a potato sack!” a shrill voice interrupted that romantic moment, that feeling in your mind of having freed yourself for a second from your fears. Angie.

“Angie…” Donna murmured, rolling her eye but with her hand still in yours. “Unlike (Y/N), you are better quiet.”

“That's a low blow, silly Donna,” the doll protested, approaching you, getting on the table and making an unpleasant noise when moving the plates and glasses.

“What did I tell you about getting on the table? Scendi!” the lady said, blinking furiously, pointing to the floor with her hand.

“I don't want to, I'm helping the fool to choose a dress,” Angie said, with a cocky voice, making you shake your head, rubbing your eyes.

“Cosa? Please leave her alone,” Donna said shaking her head as the doll played with your dress, pretending to study it thoroughly.

“Mm, yeah, a potato sack would be too fancy for a loser like you…” the puppet muttered, making you frown with an annoyed growl. “What do you say, Donna?”

“I say… Basta, Angie,” the lady hissed, crossing her arms. “Don’t make me control you.”

“You’re stupid and she’s stupid,” the doll protested, reluctantly obeying. “I just want to help…”

“Hey, I appreciate it,” you said amused, winking at her.

“You see, Donna? She appreciates my ideas,” Angie said, with a haughty pose, climbing onto your lap.

The lady snorted, shaking her head.

“Mm, let's see, let's see...” the puppet murmured, placing the dress on you under your amused gaze. “Oh, you could...” she said, lowering her voice, getting closer to your ear. “Oh, oh, oh, you could wear a ruffled dress.”

“Ruffles? No thanks, that's too cheesy,” you said amused, arching your eyebrows.

“Did you hear that, Donna? She says your dolls are cheesy…” Angie mocked, with an overly dramatic tone.

“Hey, I didn't say that,” you protested.

Donna's patience ran out, picking up the doll in her arms and leaving her on the floor in an unpleasant way.

“That's enough, get out,” she said in a threatening voice, pointing her finger towards the hallway.

“You're too tense, silly Donna. Are you having too much testicular pressure?”

“Basta! Porca miseria, taci, taci! Get out, get out, get out!” the lady shrieked furiously, offended and humiliated by that insinuation, which, obviously, also involved you.

That abrupt attitude with her only companion made you squirm in your chair, guilt stalking you again. You were to blame for that tension. You were to blame for the desire to have you, to possess you, being extended more and more in time.

“I-I'm sorry,” you murmured nervously as the doll ran away, laughing loudly.

“No…” Donna said, turning around and shaking her head, resting her hands on your shoulders. “No, tesoro, you haven't done anything wrong.”

“I… I…” you stammered, biting your lip to suppress an embarrassed sob. “Donna, I…”

“Shh, don't worry, everything is fine. You know how she is like, don't pay attention to her,” the lady said softly, gesturing to you with her hand. “Get up, amore mio, I want to look at you.”

With the help of her hand, you stood up while Donna looked at your clothes, the fabric that covered your sleeves, the folds of your dress…

“Mm…” she murmured, relaxing that furious expression due to the doll's teasing. “Yes, okay…”

“What…? What are you doing?” you asked curiously, trying to forget that awkward moment.

She smiled, apparently calmer, putting a hand around your waist, sighing and hugging you from behind, placing her lips on your neck.

“I won't allow la mia ragazza to spend a single lei on a horrible dress…” she whispered affectionately, causing you to laugh due to the tickling of her lips. “I'll make you one.”

“Oh…” you gasped with a smile, closing your eyes to enjoy her hug, joining your hands to hers, trying, involuntarily, that they didn't dare to run around your body. “No, it's not necessary.”

“Mm, of course, bellisima…” she said, turning you around quickly and capturing your lips again. “My beautiful girl has to wear a beautiful dress…”

“Donna…” you said with a tender voice, mercilessly seduced by her continuous displays of affection, by her caresses, by her melodic voice.

Yes, she was definitely perfect. You felt stupid, stupid for not being able to give her what she wanted, to let her love you, to make you hers as she would like. You would have to leave your demons aside, remove sadness and fear from your life if you wanted to please her.

“I will make you a dress worthy of a true lady,” she whispered, swinging with you, with a seductive sparkle in her eye. “No, no, worthy of a goddess.”

“I hope Mother Miranda didn't hear you,” you joked, causing that tender laugh from the lady in black again, causing her lips to rest on yours in a quick, but terribly romantic way.

“Let her hear me… She will never be as lucky as me. I have you, principessa…”she murmured, leaving you, pushing her tempting body away

You, slowly, reached out your hand to grab hers, so she wouldn't move away any further.

“Donna…”you whispered, your voice nervous but determined, even if it was just for a moment. “I want, I want to try again… Tonight.”

“Are you sure?” Donna asked, running the back of her hand over your cheek as you nodded. “There's no hurry. Angie just talks nonsense, don't take it seriously, mm?”

“It's not because of Angie I… I want, I want to do it,” you said, unable to keep your gaze, something Donna prevented by lifting your chin again.

“Va bene… But first, tesoro, let's finish eating,” she said, kissing you quickly and finally moving away from you, pointing to your chair for you to sit down again.

No matter how little courage you had, it quickly vanished like on all those previous occasions. Not even the safe cover of darkness prevented your body from shaking when her hands ran over it.

Your mind wandered through horrible thoughts, through the fear you had that the lady would notice your body, that way you were born and that made you so self-conscious.

She didn't give it any importance. It was almost as if she had already assumed that making love to you was an impossible task.

You didn't want her to think that way, you didn't even want to think that way yourself, but you couldn't help it.

Day after day, your body asked you for love, but your mind prevented it. Not even your suggestion of keeping your clothes on was a good idea.

Donna didn't ask you, she stopped asking you. Simply, desperate, she accepted all your proposals without complaining but, with time, her attitude was increasingly tired, her sighs were increasingly louder.

You didn't know how long you could last like this, how long the lady in black could put up with you. The fear of losing you was no longer just hers, you also were afraid of Donna abandoning you, of Donna stopping loving you.

At that moment you understood her possessiveness, her jealousy. Just imagining a life without her was horrible and if it was that horrible for you, it was much worse for her.

You sighed during a quiet afternoon, finishing reading while the lady in black worked on something at her desk. Your gaze went to hers, which seemed concentrated. Your eyes shone with her distracted beauty, with each of her movements.

You simply couldn’t understand yourself.

You loved her more than anything but… Because of your stupid complexes, you would end up losing her.

As you thought about all those horrible possibilities, your eyes met and Donna did what she did best, giving you one of her radiant smiles, resting her head on her hand as if she were contemplating something beautiful, something you refused to be aware of.

“Do you see anything you like, tesoro?” she asked softly, with a look that expressed all your worries were absurd.

“Ugh, here we go again… Bye, sticky fools” Angie said, getting off the couch where she was reading with you and walking away from the living room.

“Yes,” you answered, ignoring the doll. “You.”

Donna laughed again, shaking her head and raising her hand towards you.

“Come here,” she whispered tenderly.

You smiled back, getting up from the couch and walking towards the desk, holding out your hand for the lady to take in an elegant way.

“Sit here with me, I want to show you something,” Donna whispered, kissing your shy hand and pulling you to sit on her lap, settling into her favorite position, with your body on hers in an innocent way.

The lady in black pulled out an old magazine, one that seemed to be about fashion, or dresses, or something similar. Little by little she turned each page, where really beautiful girls posed in all kinds of dresses.

You stirred at the sight of those models, at the sight of that beauty that you could never have. Donna kissed your cheek and placed your hair lovingly, pointing with her finger at one of those photographs.

“What do you think of this one, tesoro? Do you like it?” she asked in a whisper, attentive to your gestures.

You leaned down to pick up that magazine, letting Donna accommodate you better on her lap.

“Oh… You mean, you mean the dress, right?” you joked without wanting to do it, running your hand over that beautiful woman, over that perfect body.

The lady laughed amused, frowning.

“Of course,” she whispered unaware of your little joke, resting her head on your shoulder. “I think that color will suit you very much, see? These details match your eyes.”

“Um, yes, well…” you murmured unsure. “I don't think that one will fit me well, it's too tight.”

The doll maker nodded, turning the page without asking any more questions.

“Well, then… What do you say about this one? I can change the design so it doesn't have… Those, those ruffles you hate,” she joked in a calm voice. “I think that one makes a very pretty figure.”

You looked at that woman posing, a tall, blonde woman, who seemed to be made for that dress. You could never be her. You could never have the pretty figure Donna said. No dress would achieve that.

“I don't know, Donna...” you murmured, starting to get stressed for no reason, just for the simple fact that you didn't look anything like those models.

“Mm, okay, don't worry, I'm sure we'll find one you like,” she said, with a slightly more serious look, turning the page again.

Reject after refusal, you rejected each of her proposals, making her features harden little by little.

“Look, I think this one is perfect,” the lady said, pointing to the beautiful girl on the last page. “This neckline would look great on you.”

You shook your head, increasingly nervous.

“Mm, okay…” Donna sighed, running a hand through her hair, but without letting you go. “I'll ask the Duke for more magazines, there has to be a dress you like…”

“No,” you said nervously, looking away. “It's not necessary.”

“Well, I can, I can try to make one with my own design, but I'm not a dressmaker. It would be very difficult for me to not make you look like a porcelain doll,” Donna said, amused, moving you on her lap.

“I wish I was,” you murmured in a somber voice. Even those dolls had better bodies than you, or so you thought.

“Hey, come on, why you say that?” she asked, moving your face so you could look at her.

You shook your head, moving away from her caresses and getting off her lap.

“Stop pretending, Donna. I'm never going to be like one of those models, no dress you make could fit me well,” you said nervously, overwhelmed, about to explode.

“But, but, tesoro…” the lady said, frowning, with a look of surprise. “Di che cosa stai parlando?”

“I don't want a dress, I don't need one, I don't want…” you stammered running a hand over your forehead. “I don't want… For you to realize how horrible I am and…”

“(Y/N), tell me, tell me what's wrong, why do you say such a nonsense?” she asked again, getting up from her desk and reaching out her hands to take yours, a gesture you rejected with a furious gasp.

“Forget it! Okay? I'm not like them. I never will be, so you better stop trying to make me look like them with those stupid dresses. I'm horrible!” you screamed nervously, turning around to run away.

“(Y/N), please, come here, wait!” Donna shouted as you ran towards the elevator, cowardly fleeing.

You ignored her call, going down to the basement, running through its hallways, entering the bedroom and throwing yourself on the bed, crying inconsolably.

You couldn't stand it anymore, you couldn't stand the silent shame you felt for your body. Your mind had exploded. You were no longer able to accept it, to control your anger, to prevent the demons of your low self-esteem from overshadowing your rational thinking.

After a time that you couldn't determine, the sound of heels interrupted your moans and the weight of the brunette sank the bed while a warm hand rested on your back.

“Go away,” you sobbed. “Leave me alone.”

“I will never let you cry alone, tesoro, never,” Donna murmured, sighing. “I can't stand to see you cry, amore mio…”

“Well, leave then,” you said abruptly, moving so the contact would disappear.

“Please... Tell me, tell me what's wrong, I beg you, you’re breaking my heart, (Y/N)…” she whispered, moving your body to get up, grabbing you by the shoulders and wiping away your tears. “Don't cry, please…”

“I can't take it anymore, Donna…” you sobbed, fighting back your tears. “It's, it's too much…”

“What's too much? Please, I want to help you…” she sighed, keeping her hand on your cheek. “Day after day I see your eyes begging for help but I’m unable to read them… Grant me the grace of your words. Grant me the precious gift of those thoughts that are tormenting you…”

“You are always so poetic…” you said with a smile, shaking your head.

She smiled back, without taking her eye off yours, comforting you with her tender gaze.

“Poetry is the word of the Gods…” she whispered romantically. “You are my Goddess, (Y/N)…”

“Don't talk nonsense, I’m not a Goddess,” you said with a sadder tone, turning your face away from her caresses. “I’m nothing like that, I… You don't understand…”

“No, of course I don't understand, tesoro,” she said, getting a little closer to you. “Explain it to me, I’m begging you…”

“Fuck… Do you know… Do you know why I'm wearing this horrible dress? Why don't I let you see me naked? Why don't I want to…? Why can't I make love to you?” you asked embarrassed, correcting your words.

Donna simply shook her head.

“Because of this,” you said, getting up furiously, taking advantage of that furious outburst to untie the laces of your dress and let it fall at your feet.

The lady stood up nervously, looking at you dazed, looking in detail at your half-naked body with her mouth open, surprised.

“(Y/N)… You are…” she murmured, approaching slowly, as if she were hypnotized.

“Don't come closer, Donna,” you said, hissing, kicking the floor. “You see? You don't have to say it. I don't want to hear it. My body is horrible, it's, it's full of marks and freckles and... No, it's not pretty, it's not proportionate...”

The ventriloquist stopped dead, shaking her head, without taking her eye off your flawed body.

“It's... It's a burden I've had for too long... I'm not worthy of your love, of your desire... You'll never, ever be able to love a body like mine... Never...” you murmured, sobbing again, trembling with shame.

“Wait a minute...” she murmured, making a gesture with her hand, looking down with a frown, as if she had just remembered something important. “Oh, so... Were you turning off the light because you were ashamed of your body?” she asked in a different, harsher tone.

You, embarrassed, nodded, lowering your head and clenching your fists tightly.

“Really? Oh, wow, I…” Donna said, with a smile that stuck in your heart, laughing nervously but strangely relieved, something that made you groan.

“Hey! Don’t laugh at me!” you shrieked furiously, taking the brunette’s laughter as a mockery.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she said, sighing in relief, with that mocking smile decorating her face as she approached. “Oh, tesoro… I thought you turned off the light so you wouldn’t see my… My face,” she said, her smile disappearing little by little.

“What? No,” you said, shaking your head, with the same confused expression.

“It’s, it’s a relief,” she said, smiling again.

You shook your head in disbelief, bending down to pick up the dress, something Donna prevented with a hand on your wrist, slowly raising your body.

“Amore mio… You're so stupid…” she said with a tender smile, cupping your face in her hands. “Your body is beautiful…”

“Yeah, come on, now lie to me,” you said distrustfully, fleeing from her caresses again. “Have you seen me well? Look at that waist, at that horrible freckles…”

“Horrible?” she asked, running a hand over your marked collarbone, grabbing your waist with the other one. “I think they're cute…”

“Come on, don't pretend that…” you said nervously, letting the lady in black explore your flawed skin for the first time, letting her fingers sink into your scars. “Oh, no, don't touch me there, it's horrible.”

“Mm,” Donna murmured, with a cold look, taking your hand and bringing it to her own scar. “Do you think this is horrible, (Y/N)?”

“No,” you said sincerely, strangely comfortable with her caresses. “But, but your body, your body is perfect and mine…”

“Yours isn't perfect,” the lady said, her voice low and whispering, pulling you a little closer to her, resting her warm hand on your back. “Because there's no word that describes something beyond perfection, tesoro… You're beautiful… Your body is beautiful…”

“Don't tell me that…” you whispered confused, blushing at her compliments. “I know, I know you say that to make me feel good.”

“Mm, and what happens when you tell me that I'm beautiful? Do you do it to make me feel good too?” she asked without raising her voice, without making you feel uncomfortable.

“N-No… I, I really think you're beautiful,” you murmured, looking away, trembling every time her fingers ran over your curves, those places you hated.

Donna smiled, leaning down to kiss you tenderly, to sigh on your lips while her hands continued their particular exploration, caressing your back, running a finger along your spine, causing you hundreds of shivers.

“Perfetta…” she whispered among her kisses, her lips too busy to care if you understood her.

You let yourself go, you let her skin brush against yours, her body embrace yours, her perfection and your imperfection to mix.

“Donna, wait,” you said, interrupting her deep kisses.

You moved away, still embarrassed by that eye that didn't want to leave your figure and you moved your ankle, taking a breath.

Your hands traveled nervously to the clasp of your bra, which gave way despite the trembling, falling next to that dress, the one that hid your greatest fear. The lady in black took a deep breath, trying to be kind, trying not to stare at your breasts in a shameless way.

She couldn't help it, her gaze fell on them, her breathing became more agitated as her hands reached out to you again, passing over your chest without touching those erotic parts, surrounding them in a respectful way while her lips slowly traveled down your neck.

“I'm not done,” you said, interrupting, moving away from those hot kisses again.

With less fear at seeing her gaze enraptured by your beauty, you bent down getting rid of the last piece of clothing you had left, exposing yourself to the woman you loved as you never thought you would dare.

“Every piece of clothing you take off is a gift for my gaze...” she whispered, with a voice taken by nerves, by the sincere love that you didn't believe she felt. “You are amazing, amore mio…”

“Come on…” you joked, feeling comfortable with her eye wandering over your imperfection, her hands brushing your hips, her fingers tickling your sensitive, uneven skin. “You are so tender, Donna… Too much for me to keep resisting…”

“Mm, don't resist then,” the lady said softly, pulling your waist, taking you back to the pleasure of her wet, warm kisses, passing that heat through every inch of your skin. “Wait, (Y/N),” she interrupted, moving away in the same way as you. “I think this is unfair.”

“Oh, well...” you said nervously, frustrated at having lost the burning contact that encouraged you to fulfill your lustful desires.

She smiled, but didn't say anything. Donna brought her hands to the buttons of her dress, undoing them little by little, also nervous. Your gaze remained fixed on the pale skin of her body as the top disappeared.

If you were a Goddess you didn't know what she was... Was there anything superior to a Goddess?

Her bra also fell under her trembling hands and her black skirt soon joined the pile of clothes. The lady in black hesitated before lowering her last garment, before letting you see that part of her body that also embarrassed her, but finally, she did it, looking away.

“Donna…” you sighed, involuntarily approaching her naked body, letting your hands travel to her skin, your eyes focusing on every detail of that, soft, pale, hot body… “You are so beautiful…”

“No, no… Not as much as you…” she said, visibly nervous, especially because her body betrayed her desire, something that, unfortunately for her, she could no longer hide. “Come, I want to kiss you.”

You obeyed, walking, floating towards her, letting your two bodies join naked, your skin delighting in the contact.

They were different kisses, deeper ones. Your hands also lost their fear. Hers dared to conquer your breasts, the lower part of your back. Her lips left yours, traveling down your neck, down your freckled collarbone.

“Donna…” you gasped again, surprised by that adoration, by that delicacy with which her fingers ran over your flaws, with which her lips kissed every part you hated, always carefully, as if the mere fact of touching your scars or your curves was something almost forbidden, a divine privilege.

Your hands also ran over her skin, enjoying the softness that yours didn’t have, that paleness, that shine that made you doubt if Donna Beneviento was human, if that beauty was possible in a place like that.

“Make love to me, please…” you whispered, with your voice broken by the growing lust, by the rubbing of your bodies, the subtle caresses of her erection on your belly.

Nothing mattered anymore, just her, just you, just two poor, self-conscious souls who blindly believed in a God that didn't exist, in a supernatural entity that said you were both beautiful.

“Please…” she whispered, walking slowly until you were lying on the bed, lowering her lips down your chest, kissing your belly, scratching the skin of your legs with her nails, claiming that as her territory, claiming you.

Your hips met with hers. Your waist was grabbed by those faithful hands. Your sides were adored by her caresses, by her kisses…

Everything you hated was ambrosia to her, it was addictive to her lips, to her fingers, to her own body that wanted to join yours, that moved to feel its burning skin on yours, so the heat between them would stop being unbearable.

Donna slowly pulled away, with her hand always on your body, not wanting to leave you, looking at you in such a tender way that it seemed impossible. Her sincere smile calmed your nerves. Nothing could make you back down, nothing.

“Ti amo…” she whispered, before going down to your lips again, positioning her body so her erection rubbed against your wetness, against that sensitive part of your body.

“Oh, Donna…” you whispered, hugging her gratefully, almost sobbing from the emotion of feeling desired. You were stupid, but you wouldn't be stupid anymore, never again. “Please… I need you…”

She nodded slowly, caressing your cheek before moving to guide the tip towards your entrance and moving slowly, entering you delicately.

You squirmed due to the sensation, an annoying, painful sensation, but one you couldn't avoid.

Your body stretched slowly, with time, without rushing while Donna entered you completely with a subtle moan, always relieving that discomfort with her caresses, with whispers that passion and nerves didn't allow you to understand.

“Amore mio…” she whispered, letting you get used to it gently, enduring the pleasure of your walls tightening around her. “Are you better? Can I move?”

You, impressed by the change in your body, by losing that pain and immediately turning it into an intense pleasure, nodded closing your eyes, running your hands along her legs.

Her hips began to move slowly but rhythmically, in a way in which you were able to feel her erection sliding along your walls, making its way, soaking in the moisture of your long-repressed desire.

Soft moans, sighs, glances… That joined the dance of your hips, of your bodies fused erotically. Kisses landed on your lips from time to time, your body began to move, to lose its shyness.

The pleasure was outrageously overwhelming. Your hands lost their composure, pulling on her hair, grabbing her breasts, wanting to add that contact, that rubbing to the pleasure of her thrusts.

The slow rhythm disappeared when her hands rested on either side of your head. The lust was already unbearable and her hips began to lose control little by little, as did yours.

“Donna, Donna, I think, I think…” you stammered, noticing that your body was beginning to tense, that your mind was completely free, that it was only able to process the pleasure you felt, one that was getting stronger and stronger.

“Ah!” you screamed when your back tensed, when your walls squeezed her shaft abruptly, trapping her inside of you, preventing her from coming out of your orgasm.

Those new, involuntary movements were enough for Donna to fight against your body, to allow her to maintain that increasingly furious rhythm until, shortly after your screams echoed off the walls of the room, she released herself with a tremendously seductive moan.

Her seed coursed through your wetness, through your walls agitated by your own release. You were already her, you always were, but there was no doubt now.

“Oh, amore mio…” the lady sighed, kissing you erratically, letting her body fall on yours, her hands go crazy in your hair.

“Donna…” you sighed, laughing amused by her tender attitude. “Do… Do you really like my body?” you asked, with insecurity slightly peeking in your mind.

“I love everything about you…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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