#And yes I know I'm late but better late than never

[13uswntimagines]

All In My Head (Alessia Russo X Singer!r)

Part III of the Safe Harbor Universe. Find other parts here

Summary: Being Sick on tour sucks, but that doesn't mean that you want your team to inform your girlfriend. She has her own career to think about. The problem is that honesty is rule number 1 in your relationship.

Warnings: there is mention of a D/s dynamic, but nothing is super explicit. Alessia is referred to as daddy.

Authors note: Yes the ending is a cliffhanger. But this has honestly been in my drafts since like August, so i wanted to put it out. I'm considering a Pt. 2, but it will depend on if people want it. I really hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think.

You sighed heavily, leaning against the stadium's cool stone wall and twisting the bracelet around your wrist. 

Which stadium, you couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter, really. They all looked the same after a while anyway, blurring together in the never-ending cycle of rehearsals, performances, interviews, and meet and greets. 

All your life seemed to be was performing and promoting music you weren’t even excited about anymore. It was a nonstop grind filled with late nights and early mornings, with almost no time for your well-being. 

You almost wished your girlfriend had implemented a rule that placed a limit on how much you could do. At least that would give you the power to say no. 

You did your best. 

You squeezed in as many phone calls with your girlfriend, Alessia as you could, but she had her own commitments with the Lionesses as they prepared to defend their European championship.

Most of the time you ended up passing out over FaceTime, and waking up to texts telling you she loved you. 

You understood. You both had careers and obligations. You both had to make sacrifices to get to do the things you loved. 

It was… intense, but for the most part, you enjoyed it. You loved playing for the fans. You would deal with all the promotional bs just so you could interact with the people who loved your music as much as possible. 

They deserved that. 

And this tour had been going far better than the ones you had been on before it. You were holding it all together far better than you had in the past. 

Or it had been. 

It all started with a slight tickle in your throat in the city before last. A whisper of huskiness that went away with a nice steam session and some tea. 

It was easy to ignore in the beginning. 

Then you played 4 shows back to back last weekend. 

By the end of the 3rd show, you knew you were screwed, you could barely muster a horse whisper. Alessia had commented that you sounded like a chain smoker, your first sign that she was seeing through you, but you assured her you would be fine. You even joked that you had enough throat coat and grether's pastilles to turn her off for a year. She let you soothe her worries. 

You pushed on, powered my menthol lozenges and Honey, and you made it through the 4th show. 

It would have been fine. It shouldn’t have mattered that your ability to make any sound at all was hanging on by a thread. The 5 days off you had should have been enough to set everything right.

Except you didn’t have 5 days off. 

It was filled with promotional performances for a new album and interviews about how well it would accompany the movie it was attached to. If someone else asked you about how it felt about the possibility of an Oscar nod, you were going to scream. Or rip all of your hair out or both.

The tickle had turned to hot nails, and nothing - not the steam machine or tea and honey - had the power to soothe it. 

You sounded like you were talking through gravel, and your team had been hesitant to even let you go on tonight. 

Alessia definitely would not have, if she knew how bad it really was. You started avoiding her two days ago after you couldn’t make it through a sentence without a crack, and you couldn’t continue to blame the low whistle that accompanied every one of your breaths on allergies. 

You knew going in that performing tonight wasn’t a great idea, but you refused to let the fans down. There were only 4 shows left. Surely you could make it. 

The entire show felt like a battle. 

You had to fight for every note. For every breath. 

Your lungs felt like they were on fire and your throat was raw before you even got to the piano set. 

It took everything in you to hide the thinness in your voice. To prevent every sound from cracking as you forced each lyric out. 

It was…rough to say the least. 

But you made it- even if it was only by the skin of your teeth. 

You were shot by the time you did your final bow and disappeared backstage. You ignored the cold Gatorade being pressed into your palms, knowing it would only aggravate the glass shards in your throat, and shrugged off Steven and Clint. 

You didn’t need their concern, you needed to escape the roaring in your ears. The pounding in your chest. 

So you took turn after turn until you were in an abandoned section of hallways. 

You sighed, grasping at your throat as you slid down the cool wall, pulling your knees to your chest and pressing your forehead into the rough material of your costume to drown out the pounding in your head. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the back of your head and you groaned. 

The sound felt like hot coals in your throat, and it made your chest ache. 

You feared that no amount of steam, or tea, or pastilles would stop it this time. 

The cold bricks of the stadium felt nice against your skin, leaching the heat from your body, though it did nothing to help the fire in your chest. 

A fire that was quickly moving past the gray areas in your agreement with Alessia, and into a place that your daddy would definitely have something to say about. 

You were treating your limits with her like a tightrope, carefully toeing the edge. Except with the way you felt, you knew you were about to topple one way or the other. 

You ignored the sounds of clicking shoes coming closer, hoping that whoever it was wouldn’t see you. That they would leave you be to pull the cracked pieces of yourself back together. 

But your team knew better than to leave you to your own devices.

“Y/n?”

You tensed at the soft hand on your shoulders, and the sound of shifting clothing as someone settled on the ground beside you. 

“You ok, kid?” Natasha asked softly, running soothing circles on the top of your shoulders. 

You let out another breath before you pulled your face from its hiding spot, resting your chin on your knees. “I’m ok. Just wanted some quiet,”

You frowned at the horse whisper that left your lips, and the flair of pain that accompanied it. 

Natasha hummed. 

She had been part of your team from the beginning, back when you were a dumb 16-year-old, long before Pepper, Tony, Steve and the rest of the crew had joined, and she knew you nearly as well as Alessia did. 

She raised an eyebrow at you. “Just some quiet?” 

You knew that wasn’t what she was actually asking. 

The question went much deeper. 

She knew about your… dynamic with Alessia, and she had seen the striker take care of you in various ways. She was asking you what you needed. 

You nodded, looking away from her, afraid that she would see through you. 

“I needed a minute,” You said, your voice barely a squeak. “It was all too much, and I wanted to be alone before I got pulled into something else,”

She made a low sound at the familiar explanation. “And this has nothing to do with how you sound like you’re gargling rocks?”

You grimaced. “Nothing at all,”

She hummed. “So you’re not in any pain at all?”

“Nope,” You breathed out, the p the only clear part of the word. 

“Y/n,” She sighed. “I know you have an… aversion to admitting when you’re not… at the top of your game, but pushing yourself isn’t going to help anything. You don’t have anything to prove here,”

You ran a hand through your hair and rolled your eyes dramatically at her. She chuckled at the action. 

“There are only 3 more shows,” You said. “I can make it 3 more shows,”

“And how would Alessia feel if she knew you were going to put your comfort aside for 3 more shows?” Natasha asked softly. “And not just your comfort, your health. You sound like shit,”

You huffed at the mention of your girlfriend, your fingers instinctively finding the braided bracelet that never left your wrist. 

You knew how she would feel. You could practically hear what she would say. I expect you to take care of the things that belong to me. I expect you to treat them with respect and give them the love and care they deserve. 

“I’ve got it all under control,” You rasped, wincing at the action. 

It was Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes. “Sure you do. Since you have it all under control, you’ll stop ignoring your girlfriend,” She pulled the device out of her back pocket and balanced it on top of your knees. “She’s been blowing up your phone all day. I think she’s worried,” 

You stared at the phone, and as if on cue, it buzzed again with a new message. 

Alessia was going to be furious with you, and your daddy would be on another level entirely. 

She was usually the one to take the reigns when you were set on driving yourself into oblivion for the benefit of everyone else. But she wasn’t here. 

You sighed heavily. 

You knew that if you told her, she would drop everything. She would move heaven and earth if that was what you needed. 

You didn’t want that. 

She needed to focus on her game, and that meant that you couldn’t be a distraction. You would not disappoint her. Not when you were so close to finishing. 

“She needs to focus,” You mumbled, your voice straining. “She’s gotta impress Sarina to make the team. It’s important,”

“I think you forget that you are also important,” Natasha argued back softly, patting your back before carefully pushing herself to her feet. “I’m going to have Pepper cancel the meet and greet. You’re in no shape to meet fans. I should also have her call a doctor, but I already know you’ll fight me on it,” 

You frowned. You never sold meet and greet tickets, choosing to instead have your team select fans at each show. 

“But-“ 

She held up her hand before you could argue. “That isn’t up for debate. Get rest tonight, and we’ll assess tomorrow in the morning.”

Your jaw clenched, but you nodded, knowing there was no arguing with her. 

“I know the world thinks you’re superhuman, but it’s ok not to be indestructible,” She said, softly. “You need to remember to be Clarke Kent sometimes too. There’s a reason Lois fell in love with him first,”

With that, she walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

The silence of the empty hallway wasn’t as welcoming as it had been. It didn’t quiet your thoughts like it had. 

Instead, it felt suffocating. Like the walls were closing in on you, trapping you in your misery. 

You sighed another painful breath, before you grabbed your phone, reading the top notification, longing not to feel so…alone. 

Hey babe, caught the end of your show on a random livestream. Are we still on for our FaceTime tonight?

You let your head fall back, thumping the wall. 

Everything in you longed to say yes.

But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 

It was still nice to fantasize about seeing her. About hearing her say ‘Hello my little one,’ with a soft smile that brought out her dimples. If you closed your eyes you could almost feel the pressure of her fingers on the back of your neck, running through the baby hairs that lived there. ‘I’m here, and I’ve got you,’

You let your mind linger there for a long second before you forced your eyes back open. 

It took you three tries to type out your reply: sorry darling, I’m super tired. Rain check?

And you paused, your trembling finger over the send button, knowing you shouldn’t send it, but hitting the little blue arrow anyway. 

It was awful but necessary. 

You let out another long, ragged breath before you forced yourself to your feet and shoved your phone into your pocket, so you didn’t have to see her reply. You leaned heavily on the wall, no longer enjoying how it sucked the warmth from your skin, but using it to stay upright as the entire hallway tilted to the side. 

You should go back to your dressing room before Steve sent out a search party. Dealing with Nat was one thing, dealing with the overprotective instincts of Steve, Clint, and Thor was another. 

You didn’t have the mental capacity for that, and maybe your dressing room couldn’t make you feel like there was a rope on your lungs, dragging out your soul.

*****

You were not particular about a lot of things when you were on tour. You didn’t care about the size of your hotel room or the cars you were shuttled around in. You didn’t request overly expensive foods or special bubbly waters. 

The only thing on your rider that you were very specific about was your dressing room. 

It was your sanctuary away from the noise. A place you would spend more time in than your hotel room. 

It was important to you that it was always the same. Lit with twinkling fairy lights, the comfy gray couch that followed you on every tour stop standing near the table with your kettle and vocal steamer, and a diffuser already filling the room with the soft scent of lavender and honey. 

It filled your lungs the second you stepped through the door, wiping away the burning ache that accompanied every breath for just a second. Reminding you for one fleeting moment of the honeysuckle of Alessia’s favorite shampoo (the reason she picked the essential oil blend to begin with), before the knives returned to your chest. 

You rubbed your knuckles over your sternum to quell the feeling, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing into it. 

You pressed your nose into the soft gray material, wishing that you had grabbed the bright red sweatshirt you stole from your girlfriend when you last saw her. The smell of her perfume was beginning to fade, but it wasn’t gone yet, and there was a distinct longing in your stomach to be close to her. Even if you were the reason there was any space to begin with. 

You could hear your kettle bubbling next to you, and you knew you should make yourself some tea to soothe the sharp edges in your windpipe, but the thought of moving felt like too much. 

Instead, you sunk into the couch, your arm dangling off the cushion, your fingers brushing the ugly red carpet. 

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, and you didn’t have to look to know who was texting you. Still, the urge to see what she would say was too great for you to ignore it. 

It took all of your strength to move your heavy arm to your pocket and pull out your phone. Your fingers fumbled over the screen as you squinted at the device with the eye not pressed into the couch. 

The light made the throbbing in your head worse, and the words written on the screen made your lungs constrict.

Ok, my love. Are you sure everything is alright? This is the 3rd time this week.

You could almost hear the worry in her voice. See the suspicion in her blue eyes. 

They never failed to see through you. To strip away your exterior and leave you vulnerable and raw beneath them. It never made you feel exposed, even in the beginning when the two of you decided to extend your dynamic beyond your bedroom. Instead, you felt seen and safe. 

Sometimes she liked to have to work for your submission. She liked to peel away each layer of you one by one until you were a trembling mess beneath her. Open and vulnerable in a way no one else ever got to see you. 

Other times, you gave your submission willingly, stripping off your public persona like a dirty shirt and allowing her to envelop you in her warm comfort. 

How much you wanted that. How much you needed it. 

It was a desperation that filled your entire being. 

Before you could process what you were doing, you had already pressed her contact photo and brought the now-ringing phone to your ear. 

You laid the device on the side of your head and let your arm go back to dangling. It was too heavy to hold. 

It only rang twice before her voice filled your ears. 

“Hey my love,” She said, worry and relief mingling strangely in her tone. “I’m so happy you called me. How are you?”

Her voice washed over you like a soothing wave, like a balm on the sharp edges of your nerves, though it did little to help the fire in your lungs and throat. 

You pressed your nose into the couch, pretending that it was her shoulder for just a second. That the honey and lavender surrounding you was her perfume. That she was here. 

“Y/n, are you there?” She asked, and you opened your mouth to respond, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You couldn’t force any sound, beyond a low whistle past your inflamed throat. Your lungs crackled with each breath. 

Your inability to make sound didn’t bother you as much as it should have. 

“Y/n? Did you butt-dial me?” Alessia asked again, and you could almost feel her running her nails through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. “I’m worried,”

The words were said with too much force, not at all the soft murmur your brain had been waiting to hear. 

It shook you out of your haze just enough for you to reach up and grab your phone, clicking the decline button too fast. 

You let the phone drop to the floor with a low thump as it immediately began to ring again. 

Your fingers twitched above the screen, but you didn’t have the strength to reach for it, even as it lit up again with your girlfriend's contact photo. 

Well, it was a photo of the two of you. You were curled up in her lap, in one of her blue UNC sweatshirts that were too big, and she was kissing the side of your head. 

It had been taken after a particularly grueling day in the studio. It was Alessia’s turn to host team bonding night. You didn’t remember exactly who took the picture, Leah or Lotte, maybe, but it was one of your favorites.

What the camera didn’t catch was that your arms were not in the sleeves. Instead, they were tied with intricate knots behind your back, hidden by the sweatshirt. 

It was something the two of you often did, and it was one of her go-to's when you were starting to spiral out of control. 

A part of you longed for the feeling of the knots now, and her fingers twisting the soft rope against your skin. 

Sure, the weight of your bracelet was nice, but it wasn’t enough. 

You let out a wheezing breath that crackled and hurt. 

If you asked, she would be here. She would wrap you up and pull you from your free fall. 

It took you a long second to remember why you couldn’t have that. 

Alessia had a job to do, and you wouldn’t stand in the way of that. 

The phone buzzed again against the ugly carpet, the little voicemail icon flashing. You doubted you would be able to resist calling her back if you listened to it.  

Still, you had to do something. 

So you flicked the screen with one finger, going to your messages, and typing out words that felt fake, even to you. 

Sorry, I’m ok. Just tired. I’ll call you tomorrow after the game. Love you.

You clicked send before you could overthink it though, or your trembling fingers could betray you and type out the truth. You laid your head back down on the couch, curling into yourself as a painful cough forced its way past your lips. 

You weren’t sure how long you laid there, shivering before there was a soft knock at the door, and then the little click as it opened. 

A part of your brain hoped that it would be Alessia. That she had read your mind and somehow teleported to whatever city you were in. 

But the feeling of gentle fingers on the top of your shoulders told you that it wasn’t. 

“Y/n?” Natasha asked, very close to your ear, and you blinked up at her. 

You didn’t remember closing your eyes. 

“Hm?” You hummed, the sound raw and painful. 

“Let’s get you changed, and then we can go back to the hotel and you can sleep,” She said, placing a hand under your armpit and guiding you to a sitting position. 

The tiny movement had coughs ripping past your lips. 

She held you steady with one hand and grabbed you a change of clothes with the other. 

“Easy,” She breathed out, carefully unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it from your sweaty skin. 

She left you shirtless for a long second as she disappeared into your bathroom, and the cool air of the dressing room felt nice on your overheated skin. 

It didn’t bother you. Natasha had seen you in far less clothing than your sports bra and underwear. 

She returned only a moment later with a towel, using it to dry you off before she slipped a light blue t-shirt with a foot on the back over your head. 

The pants took a little more wiggling, but eventually, she was able to get you out of your costume and into a pair of sweats that were far too big for you.

She slid a pair of Converse onto your feet, scooping up your phone and tucking it into her pocket. 

“Let’s get you to the car,” She guided you to stand, keeping an arm wrapped tightly around you. 

“People?” You asked, leaning more of your weight onto her as she pulled you towards the door. 

You missed her eye roll. 

Of course, all you were worried about right now was who would see you, and what they would think. 

“Not here,” Natasha reassured you gently, opening the door. ��Only when we get back to the hotel,”

You made a low, painful sound as she half-carried you into the hallway. 

You still had time before you had to pull yourself together. 

******

The city lights blurred into a distorted kaleidoscope of colors during the short ride back to the hotel. 

The cool glass felt nice against your temple, though it did little to ease the throb in your head or the lava in your throat. 

The feeling of eyes watching you for any wavering in your resolve also wouldn’t go away. You couldn’t be sure if it was worry (that you would puke all over the car or pass out), or concern about what the fans would think when you pulled up to the hotel. 

The whirring of the engine wasn’t loud enough to block out your racing thoughts, but any music was too much for you to handle. 

You were drowning. 

Every breath hurt, but you didn’t know if it was because of the physical pain or the anxiety gnawing at you. 

You didn’t like to upset people. You didn’t like to disappoint them. 

You were a people pleaser to a fault, and this wasn’t the first time you had self-destructed to meet everyone’s expectations. 

But at the end of the day, the person you wanted to please most. The person you wanted to not disappoint the most was Alessia. Was your Daddy. 

You knew you were failing, but you didn’t know how to stop.

The car came to a stop in front of the hotel far too quickly, and not for the first time, you were thankful that the dark tint kept you hidden from public view. 

“Ready, kid?” Steve asked, turning around in the driver's seat to look at you. 

You nodded once, reaching forward and grabbing the sunglasses facing the wrong way on his head, and pulled them over your own eyes. 

You took a deep breath before Clint opened your door, painting your signature smile across your features. 

You didn’t wave when you got out, too focused on keeping yourself upright, as Steve’sarm wrapped around you on one side and Natasha’s did the same on the other. 

You felt safe tucked between them, though they did nothing to shield you from shrill screams and cheers that met you as soon as your feet touched the ground. They amplified the pounding behind your eyes, and the way the crowd pressed around you made it even harder to breathe (not that you thought that was possible). 

You did try to flash the crowd smiles as Natasha and Steve guided you through, Clint protecting your back, and you were thankful your eyes were hidden, despite it being nighttime. 

You never wanted the fans to see the… fakeness. The lie.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when the hotel doors slid closed behind you, placing more of your weight on Steve as Natash called the elevator. 

“You’re burning up kid,” Steve murmured, shifting to get a better grip around your waist. 

You made a low sound, that turned into a full body caught that nearly had you doubling over. “Is that your way of calling me hot Stevie? What would Tony think?”

The words came out garbled, cracking with every syllable as you tried to talk through the coughs. 

Steve’s arm tightened around you to keep you upright. 

“I think he would say that you are sick,” Steve sighed at the mention of his husband, your publicist, taking more of your weight as another round of coughs wracked you. 

You pushed off of him as soon as you could breathe again, even if it felt like sucking air through a straw filled with needles, and swayed your way toward the elevator. 

It binged open as soon as you reached it, and you stumbled inside, gripping the metal bar on the back wall for support, and resting your forehead on the cool wall. 

You could feel the heat of your skin leaching into the surface, but it did little to quell the pounding in your ears or the feeling like everything was tipping on its head. 

Your fingers instinctively found the braided bracelet, running over the soft leather strands. 

However, this time, it didn’t ease the bubbling anxiety and fire in your chest. 

“We’re almost there, and then you can rest,” Natasha said softly, and you felt both her and Steve’s eyes on you as you leaned further into the wall. 

The movement of the elevator was starting to make you nauseous, but you didn’t think you could voice that even if you wanted to. Not with how raw your throat was. 

It took you a second to realize the elevator had stopped, and it wasn’t until Natasha gently touched your shoulder that you began to move again. 

You let Steve guide you out of the elevator and into the hallway. 

Natasha had the door to your suite open before you even got there, and Steve half-carried you to the bed, settling you on the fluffy white comforter. 

Your fingers tangled in the expensive sheets as you fought to keep yourself upright. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” Natasha asked you softly, kneeling in front of you and carefully undoing your sneakers. 

You shook your head slowly, smothering another cough. “Sweatshirt,”

The croaky word hurt as it left your lips, barely audible and surrounded by more lung-crunching coughs. 

But they understood, Steve, passing you a bright red sweatshirt from your bag. 

You brought it to your face and collapsed back onto the bed, breathing in the perfume that clung to the material. 

It burned as it filled your senses, but you could pretend that it soothed the edges of glass in your throat and lungs. You could pretend that it was her taking off your shoes and tucking you in. 

You could pretend that it was all ok and that she wasn’t going to be livid when she found out. Not that you were sick, but that you hadn’t told her immediately. 

You knew you would take whatever punishment she decided you deserved with no questions. She could be rather creative when she was annoyed with you. 

“Let’s get you settled properly,” Natasha said, shifting you on the bed so your head was on the pillows, as Steve moved the covers and tucked them around you. “Rest now, and we’ll deal with the rest in the morning,” 

You groaned, sending more flames down your airway, rolling over and pressing your face more firmly into the sweatshirt. 

You heard the distinctive sound of your phone being plugged in, and the click of the door. 

And then you were alone. 

More alone than you had been in a very long time. 

Even if it was all your own doing, you hadn’t been this disconnected since the beginning of Alessia’s college career, and your first tour with Taylor. The infamous break in your relationship. Even though neither of you had actually experimented with anyone else, and you had texted and called nonstop, you had been hesitant to push too far, to ask for too much. 

You blew out a long breath into her sweatshirt, ignoring the little needles that followed the air, eyes fixed on the phone on your bedside. 

It buzzed again as if it knew you were thinking about it. 

You reached your hand out, pulling it close so you could look at it, but it was still plugged in. 

The movement had the screen lighting up with a string of messages. The one at the top made your heart hurt.

Please don’t ignore me, my Little One. I’m worried.

It said, and you could almost hear the inflection in her tone. You could almost see her eyes softening, and feel her fingers brushing your hair behind your ear. 

You closed your eyes, pressing more deeply into the sweatshirt under your head. 

Your fantasy world was far nicer than the reality you were in, and the universe wouldn’t end if you stayed in it until morning. 

********

Your night was… hazy, filled with half-dreams that were increasingly difficult to distinguish from real life. As the morning light crept its way further and further across the ceiling, you leaned into the sweatshirt slowly losing its smell, one eye peeking out to track its progress. 

It felt like a timer. A countdown clock on the imagined feelings of soothing hands on your back and whispered reassurance that everything would be okay. 

Soon enough the door would open and you would have to be you again. You would have to pretend like each breath you took didn’t feel like a bear was mauling your lungs, and your brain wasn’t a freight train threatening to escape from your skull. 

You would have to deal with the incessant buzzing of your phone that had kept you on the edge of real sleep all night. 

You would have to face your girlfriend. Your daddy. 

You were not looking forward to it. Any of it. 

The only thing that you were semi-excited about was watching your girlfriend play, even through a screen. That had been your only saving grace back when she was in college before the two of you got back together, and you knew it would be your only saving grace now. 

You sighed, rolling over, the sweatshirt falling from its bunched-up place against your cheek, and reaching for the phone still on the corner of the bed next to you. 

It buzzed again as your fingers caught it, and brought it closer so you could see the screen. It was filled with notifications. 

Some were from the group thread you shared with your manager, assistant, and publicist. Some were emails from people you were collaborating with. 

But the majority were from Alessia. 

You couldn’t help but click on the thread. 

You knew it was a mistake immediately. 

Good morning little one. I’ll have some time if you want to FaceTime before the game. I miss you, and I’m worried. You don’t usually ignore me.

It was like an arrow straight through your heart. 

A direct hit to your will. 

You swallowed hard, ignoring how badly it burned, and typed out a message. 

I miss you too. Good luck today. You’re going to do amazing

You dropped your phone after you hit send, deciding that finding the starting 11 wasn’t important anymore, and stared up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes, pulling the comforter more tightly around you despite the sweat breaking out across your chest. 

You thought it would help the hollow feeling slowly taking over your insides, or the dull throb that accompanied each breath. 

It did not. 

You let your eyes slide back closed, deciding that the light hadn’t transversed far enough across the ceiling for you to need to be awake yet. Not when the pull of sleep was so strong, and the comfort of your half dreams was too difficult to resist. 

“You know I don't like it when you hide from me,” Alessia’s voice said sternly, as though it was right next to your ear, and you felt fingertips graze your lips. 

You didn’t open your eyes. Even amongst the haze that was filling every crack in your brain, you knew she wasn't here. She couldn’t be here. Not when she was back in London about to play some team you couldn’t remember. 

“I know,” You rasped out.  

The fingers gently pulled at your bottom lip before they circled back towards your cheek, and a thumb brushed across your closed eyelid. 

“And you’re still doing it?” She asked, and you felt the air of each word on your ear. 

You shook your head, turning it slightly, hoping to feel her nose bump hers. “You need to focus on the important things,” 

You didn’t come into contact with her, though you knew you should have with the way you shifted. 

“And you are not important to me?” She asked her voice hardening in the way it only did when you were about to receive a punishment. 

An involuntary shiver ran down your spine, and your eyes opened automatically. 

You sucked in a painful breath, blinking blearily at the face above you.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Natasha said quietly, even as your eyes darted around, searching for your girlfriend. “It’s 1, so you need to wake up so we can make a decision about tonight,” 

“Less?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper when you saw that Natasha was the only other person in the room with you. 

Natasha frowned, brushing your hair away from your forehead. “She’s in London, remember? The game against Luxembourg starts soon,” 

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together. You hadn’t remembered that they were playing Luxembourg. 

“She’s starting?” 

“No,” Natasha shook her head. “It’s mostly the young ones starting since the over-under is plus 20 for England,”

Your nose scrunched, and you forced yourself to sit up. “She has to play,”

None of this would be worth it if she never touched the field. 

“I think Serina is using this as more of an identification camp,” Natasha countered, stepping in to help you sit up. “The girls need rest after doing both the Champions League and regular play these last couple of weeks,”

You grunted though it sounded more like a pained wheeze than a grunt. 

Alessia’s schedule had been nearly as insane as your own for the past few months. It was part of the reason you were so… reluctant to bother her with something as trivial as a tickle in your throat. 

“Maybe you should take a page out of her book,” Natasha added. 

Your nostrils flared immediately at the implication. 

Your job was so much less physical than Alessia’s. You didn’t do anything to deserve rest like she did. 

The pressure you both face to perform was inherently different.

She didn’t let down millions of people every time she rode the bench. She wouldn’t crush the dreams of thousands of people if she didn’t take the pitch. 

But still, you could already hear her argument ringing in your head. 

I expect you to care for the things that belong to me as deeply and completely as I do. That includes yourself. Your needs matter, and I will not allow you to disregard them.

“No.” You rasped, none of the bite you meant appearing in the word. 

“Yes,” Natasha countered, shifting the pillows behind you before you leaned back. “There is no way you can perform tonight,”

You huffed, and crossed your arms, glaring at the city beyond the large window to the right of the bed. “People paid-“

“To hear you sing. Not hack your way through a set,” Natasha cut you off. “They’ll be more disappointed if you give them a show that’s not your best. Reschedule the last 3, so they’re worth what they paid,”

Your glare only deepened, and your eyebrows pulled very tightly together as you processed what she was saying (taking a few extra minutes to cut through the thick fog in your brain). 

You knew she was playing on your sensibility. You thought ticket prices were disgusting, and had fought to lower them as much as you could. You had made your show longer in retaliation, so the fans got what they paid for. 

You wouldn’t give them a sub-par show. 

You didn’t look at her but nodded once. 

“I’ll have Tony write a statement. Do you want to approve it before it goes out?” She asked, her voice gentle. 

You shook your head, your lips pursing. 

“We’ll release it then, and I’ll call a doctor so we can get you some real medication,” The redhead continued, ignoring the deep frown pulling at your features. 

It wasn’t that you were trying to be difficult. You just knew what would happen the second the people staked outside of your hotel caught sight of a doctor. 

But now you felt like you didn’t have a choice, and not in the fun way.

“Fine,” You muttered, a hacking cough following it. 

Natasha patted your back until the coughing stopped, and you relaxed back against the pillows. “I’ll take care of everything. I’ll have food sent up, you just watch the game and try to get more sleep before the doctor gets here,”

You huffed but didn’t protest as she tucked the blanket tighter around your torso. 

“I know you’re unhappy with all of this, but it is what it is, and we need to look after your health too,” She sighed, turning and bustling around the room, flipping on the television to the game and grabbing a mug you hadn't noticed from the dresser by the door. “Drink that, and I’ll be back in a bit,”

You didn’t respond as she placed the mug on the table beside you, and disappeared through the hotel room door with a soft click. 

You wanted to groan. To yell. To throw the mug across the room, but you knew it wouldn’t help. 

The other part of you wanted your guitar, not that you were sure your fingers were strong enough right now to actually play.  

You closed your eyes, tilting your head back on the pillows. 

It wasn’t long before you felt fingers in your hair, though you hadn’t heard the door open again. 

You instantly knew who it was, though her perfume was suspiciously missing. 

“You look like you got hit by a bus,” She murmured, her breath brushing across your nose. 

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting her blue, except it was two shades darker than you remembered, the same shade as the old UNC jersey she was wearing. 

“I’m fine,” You croaked, the sound pulling a hacking cough from your lungs that burned as it left you. 

“Ah yes, because you sound just fine,” She huffed, her nails scratching lazily at your scalp. “You don’t need to hide from me,”

You blinked slowly, and her form shimmered slightly beside you. “‘M not. ‘M right here,”

“Rule one is honesty for a reason,” She countered, her hand pausing. “You’ve not abided by that.”

You swallowed around the glass in your throat at the confirmation of what you already knew, and your eyes closed again as the heavy weight of it settled on your mind. 

You had broken the most sacred rule and you were in trouble. It wouldn’t just be a punishment you would have to take. It would be regaining her trust that would take the longest time. 

It was a fragile thing, and you had shattered it. 

You forced your eyes open again, determined to say something- anything- that would make it better, except when you did, she was gone. 

You blinked heavily at the empty bed beside you. The space she had been seconds ago. 

You wanted to shake your head, but with the freight train pounding in your skull, you knew that was a terrible idea. 

“This is a very different starting eleven for England, but it’s what we expected. The only change of note is that Alessia Russo is unavailable for this game.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed at the television, flashing the starting lineup for the game. 

Natasha said Alessia wasn’t starting, but you expected her to at least be on the bench. 

You closed your eyes and let your head fall back. 

What was the point of suffering alone if Alessia wasn’t even going to play?

You weren’t sure anymore.

******

“I’ve got her,” 

You stirred at the familiar voice, and the feeling of gentle fingers running through your hair and the bed shifting next to you. The scent of lavender and honey wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, pulling you closer to consciousness. 

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together before your eyes flickered open, meeting the familiar blue of your girlfriend. 

“Hey there,” She said softly, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing but a low hacking cough came out. 

“Easy, little one,” Alessia shushed you softly. “Just relax. I’m here, and I’ll take care of you now, ok?”

It was painful how real she felt. Painful how much you wanted to believe she was here with you. 

“Trouble,” You mumbled, coughing violently afterward, unable to stop yourself from leaning into her hand. 

“I think we should make it your middle name since you seem to find it so often,” She murmured, running her hand again through your hair. “But no. You’re not in trouble. Not right now,”

You made a low, wheezing sound, shaking your head, despite the waves of nausea it sent to your stomach. “Real daddy disagrees,” 

She frowned. “Real daddy?”

You swallowed hard, forcing words past your stolen vocal cords. “Not here. In Luxembourg. Won’t fool me again,” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” She said, her nails dragging against your scalp in the way she knew you loved. “Natasha called me last night, and I got on the flight as soon as I could,”

It took a few extra seconds for her words to filter through the unpleasant haze in your brain. Even then, they didn’t make sense. 

Hell, her entire demeanor, including the softness in her features as she looked at you, didn’t make sense. 

You explicitly told Natasha not to call her, and you couldn’t process her going against that request. Not when Alessia had a game to play. 

“My brain is making you up,” You wheezed after another long second. 

She breathed out a half chuckle. “While your brain is brilliant, I wasn’t conjured by it,” 

You made a low, husky sound that could only be incredulity. 

Her thumb again smoothed the space between your eyebrows. “What will it take for you to believe you’re awake?”

You blinked heavily at her, your shoulders lifting and falling. 

She shook her head. “You’re too much,”

“No,” You mumbled, the crease between your eyebrows pushing against her finger. “‘M a good girl,”

“Yes. You are always my good girl, even when you’re being a stubborn pain in the ass,” She agreed fondly, leaning down to press a kiss to your too-warm forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be here where you wake up, and maybe you’ll actually believe you’re not dreaming,”

“Promise?” you asked. Sounding small, as exhaustion pulled at you. 

She hummed. “I promise,”

Her fingers kept their soft rhythm in your hair as your eyes fluttered closed, and you shifted to press your nose into her shoulder, breathing in her perfume with each rattling intake from your lungs. It surrounded you, soothing the burning in your chest, and soothing the sharp edges in your throat. 

For the first time since the lingering tickle started, you actually felt at peace. You felt calm enough to let yourself truly relax. 

It would suck when you woke up and Alessia was gone, but doing anything other than allowing your mind to linger in this delusion felt unbearable. 

Instead, you allowed yourself to sink into the overwhelming pull of exhaustion. 

And you swore you heard an “always,” before sleep pulled you under. 

Even if this alessia didn’t turn out to be real, you trusted her. And as angry as you wanted to be at Natasha and Steve for calling her, you knew she was exactly what you needed. 

She always would be, even if she was just made up in your mind. 

[violentdelights-violentendss]

i got ANOTHER IDEA ! !! !! what about the last request but flipped. the men just being utterly WHIPPED for reader and just being clingy and loving in their own respective ways; except maybe instead of fedya you could do poe or chuuya? fdmnsmasksdjfkshfks. i LOVE you and ur writing so MUCH thank you for feeding me

YES OFC I LOVE THESE SM!!! I'm so sorry I died and come back just now… but better late than ever, right? I’m not really proud of this but I hope you enjoy! Please request anything else, specifically you, Cherie-soup darling!!! I adore your requests!!!

BSD Men being Clingy

In this post: ✨Chuuya✨, ✨Akutagawa✨ and ✨Dazai✨

Pairing: Fem!reader x BSDMen

Synopsis: BSD Men being clingy with their girlfriends

Dazai

This man…he is the king of clinginess. He is constantly touching you. Some body part of his is perpetually in contact with you. He physically cannot get enough of you. Could it also be because he is terrified of losing you? Possibly. But he will never admit to it. Dazai hides behind his carefree attitude, so engrained in his behaviour that it takes months, if we’re being optimistic, probably years for him to admit that the constant skin contact reassures his traumatised heart. Whether he has had the courage to tell you or not, you're insightful enough to realise the true meaning hidden behind the way his hand constantly seems to call your name when you're far away. You don't mind, almost craving it as much as he does. Everyone in the agency knows that if they need you or Dazai, they just need to find one of you because the other is probably walking besides them. Dazai's hands permanently being around your waist, and yours being perpetually on his back.

You slipped inside the elevator, walking as quietly as your heels would permit, shooting nervous glances at the couch inside the break room. From the hallway you could spot Dazai's long legs slung over the edge, and his chest peacefully rising and falling as he slept. A negotiation attempt with the Port Mafia had been called due to a recent mission, and Dazai, being the resident expert, was sent with Fukuzawa to the meeting. No matter how much Dazai smiled and joked as per usual, the minute he stepped inside the office you could tell he was exhausted. He would never admit to it, but it was draining going back to the world he once belonged to, back to his nightmarish past. It was traumitizing for him, and forced Dazai to face a version of himself he had tried to get rid of. But the past is persistent and seemingly clung onto the straps of his long coat, reaching into his mind. Every single time Dazai had to deal with the Port Mafia he never sleeps through the night, either staying up with a glass of rum or lying in bed just for your sake but never closing his eyes for a second. Being his partner, you know this better than anyone; when you had looked over and spotted your boyfriend sleeping, for what seemed to be the first time in forever, you tried to leave as quietly as you could when Kunikida had asked you to go get some coffees for the rest of the agency.

You watched the doors of the elevator slide shut, a small triumphant smile dancing on your lips. Before you could yell victory, a familiar, slender hand slipped through the minuscule gap left in between the closing metal doors. The sensor activated, the doors springing back, revealing a sleepy Dazai rubbing his eyes. You sighed in defeat, your head hitting the back of the elevator as your boyfriend slinked inside. He came to stand next to you, his familiar cologne caressing your cheeks.

“Where’re you going?” Dazai asked, his words slurred with the lilt of sleep.

“Coffee. You need to go back to bed.” You replied. “Come on, go.” You placed both of your hands on his shoulder, trying to shove him towards the door. Surprisingly, your tall, lanky boyfriend didn’t even budge when you threw your whole weight against him. You huffed, your face red. Dazai gazed down at you, a glint in his eyes as he grinned.

“I’m not that easy to get rid of, Bella Donna,” he cooed, the sleepiness now gone from his features, the pain from the day grazing the surface of his eyes.

You gave up, leaning against his chest. “I don’t want to get rid of you: I want for you to sleep.” You whined, looking at him with exasperation marring your lips. “I was so quiet. I basically floated over the ground! How did you even hear me?”

Dazai didn’t respond for a second, letting his fingertips glide down your cheek, before following the curve of your neck. “Because, my love,” he leaned down towards you, your lips millimeters apart. “As the sunflowers follow the sun, I follow mine wherever she goes.” His lips pressed against yours, tasting your vanilla lip gloss, the one he adored the most. Your eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the kiss, pulling back only to press your forehead against his.

Dazai straitened his back, smirking down at you. You lifted on your tiptoes, reaching his ear. Dazai’s hand wrapped around your waist, holding you steadily against him. “No matter how much you sweet talk me, I’m forcing you to nap with me when we get back home.” You whispered, pulling back to wink at him.

Dazai sighed, raising his arms. “Can’t say a man didn’t try.”

The smile that lit your face gave Dazai enough energy to last through the day, the warmth from your love making him eventually fall asleep in your lap back home, no nightmares haunting his mind for once.

Chuuya

Chuuya is extremely clingy, but he does it in a more subtle way than Dazai. His eyes will always follow you in a room filled with people, never letting you go. Whenever you’re standing next to him, he will subtly hold you. Chuuya doesn’t let himself be too clingy: being in the Port Mafia he never wants to attract too much attention to you, and mark you as a potential target. He knows that he would be able to rescue you, but he doesn’t even want to risk it. Plus, he has a reputation to maintain as the cruel mafia boss, or at least what’s left of his reputation after Dazai spent most of his free time back in day the spreading rumours about him (Chuuya never slept in unicorn pjs, thank you very much). But Chuuya needs you to be next to him, always. When he and you are alone, in private, he will always be draped over you, in some way or another. He wants to do everything with you. You’re going grocery shopping and it’s his one day off? He’s putting his shoes on as we speak. Anything he does with you for him is special, and could never be boring, because you are everything to him. You’re the air he needs to survive, and he will make sure you know that.

“Babydoll, I’m home!” Chuuya called, closing the door behind him with a kick of his leg. He hung his hat on the wall, running a hand through his hair.

“Welcome home! I’m in the shower!” Your distant voice echoed back to him, bouncing in the house. Just the sound of your voice made Chuuya’s heart flutter.

“I’m gonna make myself some food!” Chuuya called back, taking off his vest and draping it on the back of a kitchen chair. He immediately started looking through your cupboards, craving some chocolate chip cookies with milk. He’d seen Mori’s ability, Elise, dunk a chocolate chip cookie in a glass filled with milk during a meeting today, and it hadn’t gotten out of his head. Quickly locating the ingredients, he held them all in his arms, before he leisurely made his way to the bathroom.

Chuuya waltzed in, finding you standing in the shower, shaving your leg. You looked up at him, blinking in surprise. Chuuya, unfazed, sat on the toilet, biting into the cookie. “Hey darling,” he waved, swallowing.

“What are you doing?” You asked tentatively, holding the unmoving razor against your leg.

Chuuya lazily grinned at you, taking a swig of his milk as if it were whiskey. “Spending time with the woman I love.”

“By sitting on the toilet while I’m in the shower?”

“Of course. I don’t see anything weird about this: you’re here, therefore I am here.”

You laughed out loud, the absurdity of the situation swirling joyfully in your chest. You looked at Chuuya with a gleaming smile dancing on your lips, hastily throwing down the razor and jumping out of the shower to envelop Chuuya in a hug. “Only you could be this imperfectly awesome.” You whispered in his ear. Chuuya coughed loudly, trying to hide the blush that dusted his face by burying his face in your hair.

He was about to declare his never ending love for you sensually, hoping to take advantage of your nakedness to have a little fun, when he felt the cookie in his hand be nibbled at subtly. He pulled away from the hug, watching as you grinned at him, half of his cookie dangling from your mouth. “All of this was a ploy to steal my cookies?” He yelled in mock horror.

You played along, cackling like a witch. “Of course!”

He glanced at you for a moment, finding breathtaking beauty in every square millimeter of your face. Chuuya slid his hand along your arm, gently holding your face in place. “Truthfully, my dear, you could steal all of my cookies without asking me and I’d still love you to death.” He whispered, before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. You closed your eyes, melting into the embrace that was forever your home.

Akutagawa

Oh boy… Akutagawa being clingy is something else. It doesn’t start immediately; at the beginning of your relationship, Akutagawa is less than clingy. You are the one that initiates all type of physical contact, and your traumatized, awkward, little man responds as smoothly as a block of ice would dance on the dance floor. He moves slowly, but your encouraging smile helps him loosen up. It does take a long, long while, however, for him to initiate physical contact himself. Deep down, even if Akutagawa doesn’t want to admit it to himself, he is so, so, so clingy. He needs it, he craves it. He desires it so much it makes his skin crawl. His clinginess starts manifesting in an almost stalker-like way. He stands quietly in the corner of the room you’re also in, or he watches you from the dark hallway. You have been scared by him more than once, but you slowly start to get used to it, understanding that he needs a little push, even talking to him even if he stands in a corner. The warmth in your voices soothes him, and soon Akutagawa is confident enough to stroll up to you and hug you whenever he wishes. When he realizes he can do whatever he wishes, he almost never gets enough of it. He’s never as comfortable as you are, but he does get better. He does not like PDA, so it does take an eternity for him to even hold your hand in public, but he does starts to hug you in his office, only after he has made sure to lock the door of course. But, it’s still progress, and you can’t be happier to know your beloved boyfriend is slowly getting used to the idea that he has the right to be loved.

You were laid on the couch, watching a movie on your tv. It was your and Akutagawa’s day off, and he was currently fixing a wonky shelf in your entrance. You had offered to help him but he had gently pushed you towards the living room, before he had turned to inspect the wall. The noises from the hallway had stopped echoing in the apartment quite a few minutes ago, however, letting you question what your mafioso boyfriend was currently doing.

You glanced towards the hallway, ready to call him, when you noticed him standing in the doorway, looking at you. You flinched in surprise, and then smiled at him. You were about to call him, but you then recognized the stare of absolute, ardent, concentration that was encapsulated in his eyes: he was trying to imitate skin contact. Slowly, trying to pretend you hadn’t noticed anything you turned back to look at the movie. His creepy behavior wasn’t exactly new, letting you acquire a little bit of experience. You knew that if you had called out to him, he would have sprinted away like a startled deer. You had to wait for him to make his approach at his own pace.

And so, you did.

Over the span of thirty minutes, Akutagawa had slowly inched towards the couch, stiffly sitting on the opposite end from you. You pretended to not notice, grabbing your phone to swipe on instagram. You spent a little more than five minutes on there, quickly throwing your phone to the side when boredom had filled your mind. In that short amount of time, Akutagawa had slid along the couch to sit next to you. You froze, staying still. You could feel his knee grazing yours, your heart fluttering in anticipation.

You were expecting him to slowly reach for your hand, and then intertwine his fingers with yours, and, for a moment, you believed you were right when you felt his hand glide along yours. Your brows furrowed in confusion when he went past your hand and reached your waist. You gasped in surprise when his other hand landed on your thigh and he swiftly picked you up and placed you snuggly on his lap, wrapping his arms around you and smashing you against his chest. You blinked in surprise for a second, before melting into his hug. “Hey, Aku,” you whispered, trying not to squeal in delight: he had initiated physical contact, and in such an extreme way that he had never reached before! You could scream with joy, but you quickly tried to push down the geyser of delight pressing against your lip, choosing to nuzzle against him instead.

“Hey,” he murmured back, kissing your neck.

You two said nothing more after that, just simmering in each other’s warmth. Akutagawa’s locked limbs started to loosen over time, and your reassuring scent started to lull him to sleep. And for once, he didn’t resist it, letting Morpheus pull him in his embrace, confident he was safe, and that you were safe, lying in his arms. Nothing would hurt either of you. Before he was fully lulled into sleep, a small smile graced his lips, knowing he had never been this happy.

[bunnithechubs]

looks like i'm about to change your life.

transcript:

W: I will show you to your table, Mr. SIlas. V: Thank you, so sorry for being late. W: It is no problem. R: So what is this place? V: It’s called Tower, been here once with my dad. I think you’ll like it. R: You’ve never brought another girl here? V: Never. Just pops and now you. I plan on bringing you to a lot of nice spots in the city.

R: That’s if I let you. V: leans in and whispers I think after our little delay in your apartment, you’ll be letting me see you more. R: Just because I let you make out with me doesn’t mean I like you enough for a second date, let alone a third. V: I’m taking you on more dates. R: What if I want to date someone else? V: I can fight. R: You’d fight someone I went on a date with? V: I’d fight any man for you.

R: You really got us a private room? V: I wanted privacy with you. Sometimes the fans like to overstep. R: I don’t mind. V: I figured you wouldn’t but I’m focused on enjoying dinner with you. See anything you like? R: Oh, I’m order the most expensive thing on here. V: chuckles Trying to run my pockets dry, huh? R: Dating me isn’t for the faint hearted.

V: So you admit it, we’re dating. R: Are we not on a date? V: There is a difference between dating and being on a date. There’s a certain exclusivity with dating. R: According to the tabloids you’re not into exclusivity. V: I’m not, but for you? I want you all to myself. R: Do you think I believe that? V: No, but I plan on proving it. I’ll do whatever you want to me, destroy me if you like. As long as your mine.

R: Well if you’re going to date me I need a few things from you. V: Name them. R: Your location at all times, social media, and bank accounts. V: Done. I’ll even throw in the cameras at my apartment. R: I won’t look at them, but if you give me reason to and I find something I don’t like I will make your life a living hell. Understood? V: Completely. R: That’s it? You’re not going to ask for anything?

V: Nope, I just want you to be my girlfriend. R: You’re not worried I would cheat on you? I mean my dms are like a warzone of thirsty richer men. V: Are you letting any of them take you on dates? R: No. V: Then we’re good. Trust me, you won’t be thinking of them any more. I plan on keeping you completely satisfied. R: I look forward to that. V: Let’s eat- I want to show you somewhere before we go.

R: This is nice. V: You’re not too cold being out here? I can give you my jacket. R: The champagne has me pretty warm. I’ll let you know if that changes. V: Alright, you know in any light you look beautiful but right now I think you might be the most beautiful person in the world. R: Ass kissing doesn’t win me over. V: I’m not ass kissing, I’m telling you the truth. R: I think you’re drunk.

V: Not even the slightest bit tipsy. R: So you’re naturally a sweet talker, better watch your mouth when I’m not around. V: You do know I work with only men? R: You act like you don’t go out. V: I’m only going out with you or if you let me. R: I won’t be letting you go out without me. V: I wasn’t planning on it.

R: I want you take me home now. V: Your wish is my command.

V: I’m guessing I did a good job tonight then, huh? A nice dinner and even got you to admit we’re dating? R: You did better than expected- yes. V: So are you going to follow through with your comment from earlier? R: Letting you find out what’s underneath my dress? I think you can figure it out. I’m not wearing anything.

V: You’re killing me, Reina. R: Don’t worry I make good on my word. You get the gift of tasting me- but that's all. Your pants stay on. Got it? V: Whatever you say, Reina. R: Good, now help me out of this dress. V: Happily.

[minyard-05]

different

so i wrote this very tiny thing at a party in the clubbgetting emotional with it so Its not good but here

context: aaron's twin daughters 2nd birthday, the first one they had a party for, andrew & aaron in the kitchen talking while everyone else is outside

@tessasilverswan @blondeandfivefeeteven @you-know-i-get-itt

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

"do you think i'm going to be any good at this?"

"it's a little late for that, they're two already."

aaron laughs, but he's still looking down. finally, he speaks again, talking to the floor more than his brother.

"do you think they're going to turn out like we did?"

andrew looks up at the same time aaron does. holds his gaze for a few moments, before he answers, slowly.

"if we had grown up together, we would have been different."

it's not a yes. it's not an of course they will. it's not a promise. it's the type of 'what if' that aaron knows andrew rarely lets himself consider, the kind of wishful thinking that shouldn't be entertained if you want to have any kind of serious thought about your future. but for just a moment, they can imagine a world where they were brothers, from the beginning until the end, and it never hurt.

and they both know different isn't better.

that doesn't mean there isn't a world where it might have been.

[bratbarzal]

I fell in love with your story with Nico I was wondering if you could recommend other fics?

I'm the single worst person at keeping track of fics I read (and I know that's massively hypocritical of me I'm working on being a better person okay) especially before I started my blog but I do have a fic rec tag!! I haven't been reading a lot lately because I struggle to read while writing but I'll list my staples below bc I need to spread the love!! not all of these are nico, and not all of them are series fics, but they're all near and dear to my heart!!

the blueprint long form oc fic is whatever life throws at you by @raysofcrosby - it's a matthew tkachuk fic and I read it in the lead up to the stanley cup last year and it's probably what inspired me to start writing/post something myself!! the character/world building is unmatched and I don't think I ever have or ever will read another fic like it!!!

and speaking of world building him and I by @mikkomacko feels like you're literally in a different universe when you're reading it there's so much detail and as someone who struggles to write AU style fics more than anything I think this fic is like the epitome of talent!!!

and the same goes for say yes to heaven, say yes to me (and part two) by @theemporium - the whole mob!verse is chef's kiss, but also the entire masterlist!!!!! the amount cece writes and the unlimited ideas she manages to spin into something amazing has me staring at my screen sometimes in pure shock it's mental!! and don't get me started on luke and cherry, the mortifying ordeal of being a 20-year old virgin is the best luke fic on this app I love it with all my heart and I need to catch up!!

and katie @nol-pat is one of my favourite people period on this app so it only makes sense that she is my favourite writer!!!! I think I read must love dogs and it's been a long time coming before I started this blog, and I remember feeling like I hadn't read any other fics that I was completely submersed in so quick before!! katie's dialogue and storylines and the way she implements all the best tropes is my fave thing in the world and I'd like to think we're similar in some ways when it comes to writing but that's delusion, she is a thousand times better than me lmao

I know places by @hischierhoney is one of the best song based fics I've ever read it's so so cute and sweet and such a perfect capture of the essence of that song!! I love it and lee is very lovely!!!! I literally had a nico fic in mind when I first read this question and had to go looking and it's her off limits fic!!!! and the sequel I know!!!!! I'm a bum because it's been my favourite this whole time and I've never told her!!!! but now I can!!!

wishes come true by @sweethischier is hands down the best nico series on this app!!! I also love abby!!! I distinctly remember saving this in my drafts forever ago to read again and again!!! and now I want to read it again!!!! and I will!!!!

that night in michigan by @hockey-fics and part two that week in vancouver for if you want your heart ripping out and putting back together again!!!!

and I'm definitely missing a load more, I feel like some people have deactivated and I will yearn for them forever!!!

[twst-migraine]

The mental whiplash I suffered from this one comment bro 😭

[front-facing-pokemon]

[friedaaaaaaargh]

Season 3, Ep 11: The Broomstick Uprising

Posting some Hackle content because I would die for them.

[ruki--mukami]

  ༑ ࿐ྂ•••◣ 𝐑𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐌𝐔𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈

bold: always apply bold & strikethrough: in certain situations or due to certain triggers bold & italics: hidden but existing

࿐ྂ•••◣ FLAWS. ◥

moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | liar | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | deranged | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | overthinker | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous | oversensitive | perfectionist | pessimistic | naïve

࿐ྂ•••◣ STRENGTHS. ◥

honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny

࿐ྂ•••◣ SKILLS & HOBBIES. ◥

art | acting | astronomy | animals horseback riding | archery | sports | belly dancing | bird watching | blacksmithing | boating | calligraphy | camping | candle making | casino gambling | ceramics | racing | chess | music | cooking | crochet | weaving | exercise | swordplay | fishing | gardening | ghost hunting | ice skating | magic | engineering | building | inventing | leather-working | martial arts | meditation | origami | parkour | people watching | swimming | puppetry | pyrotechnics | quilting | reading | collecting | shopping | socializing | storytelling | writing | traveling | exotic dancing | singing | yoga | gaming | surfing

[natelia-aldelliz]

Guys... Listen I know I said I'd draw something for valentine's day but I had a bit of a rough week sooooo I'm just going to write it out instead, maybe I'll finish drawing it some day, maybe not. It's behind a show more because it's long.

(also there's talks about having sex but no actual sex, and like, general warnings about Ghost's backstory but it's very vague here).

Soap was hanging around outside, trying to bring himself to do something, anything. But the weather was nice for a February day, and the sun was out, and it was making him feel like a cat basking in the heat.

An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders, a huge body suddenly weighing on him. Ghost.

Soap hummed comfortably. This day was getting better by the minute. Any chill he might have felt from being outside in a tank top out of pure Scottish spite was instantly soothed.

Simon often times saw himself as a cold man, freezing to the touch, hidden behind a layer of ice. A proper little Elsa, Soap almost snorted out loud. The truth was that while yes, his fingers and toes' temperature was sometimes abysmal, especially in bed, the rest of him was the warmest place Johnny had ever been.

"I've got something for you in our room," Ghost whispered against his throat, making Soap shiver.

Simon had begun calling Soap's room theirs a few weeks ago and Johnny couldn't have enough of it. He was so in love it genuinely hurt sometimes to restrain himself from squeezing him to death.

"Is that so?" he purrs, knowing how Ghost likes that. If this day didn't end in sex he'd be very surprised. He'd long learned to recognize when Simon wanted sex and when he didn't, and the way he squeezed his pec in response to his voice was a very easy tell.

But then again Simon was way less subtle than he thought he was.

They made their way back to their room, and there it was, a repurposed shoebox, badly wrapped with cheap wrapping paper. Johnny couldn't be more excited, he had never received any gift from a significant other. To be fair he adored gifting but always felt awkward receiving.

But this was Simon. Something that Simon had chosen to give him.

He sat on the bed, leaving enough space behind him for Ghost to sit there so he could use him as a very comfortable backrest. When he did, he grabbed the gift and began opening it.

He knew that Ghost liked to tear the wrapping paper, liked the sound of it and liked tearing it into the smallest pieces possible after, but he himself loved carefully unwrapping it and folding it flat so he could later maybe do an origami with it or put a piece in his journal. Probably both.

This one was full of tape but he still very much enjoyed himself, considered it a challenge. He enjoyed the chase, wanted to drag it on. Ghost huffed impatiently behind him, a bit tense, probably nervous.

Inside the box was a weird old fashioned clunky thing. It was bright red, looked slightly like binoculars, definitely from the 70's, with a wheel of tiny pictures wedged in the top of it. Memories hit him all at once.

"Oh my god ah remember, my Ma had one of these when ah was a child! My sister and I loved it, it had pretty landscapes in!"

He put it against his eyes, excited to see what this one came with. At his biggest surprise, it was a picture of them. Simon had customised it.

The picture showed the back of himself a bit further away from the camera, pointing at something while in full gear, in a dilapidated town, Ghost's face in the foreground looking at the camera. It looked like Soap was talking to someone, but that person was cut by the framing.

"Wait, ah remember that mission, it's when ah saved Gaz from a landmine just to be shot seconds later," he laughed. "ah spent two fucking weeks in the hospital, ah was miserable. Ye kept joking ah should hiv left Gaz explode while staring at him, he was convinced ye actually wanted him dead!"

Then the next picture was indeed him in his hospital bed, unconscious but the state of his injuries told him he was probably just sleeping at least a few days after his admission, his life no longer in danger. In this one, Ghost was sleeping too, head in his elbow near Soap's head and his other hand holding Soap's hand.

"Who took this one?" Soap asked, moved by the tenderness of Ghost's hold on him in the picture. It would have been right after Johnny had admitted to maybe liking him more than friends, before they were officially dating.

"The hospital one?"

Soap hummed.

"Price did. Said it was for blackmail. Should have seen him, he looked like his child had just married the person of their dreams and had ridden off into a rainbow on a unicorn or some shit. Old man's sentimental as fuck, but I didn't call him on his bullshit, he's already old, that's punishment enough."

Soap giggled in response. The next few pictures were all of them together but each time he was either turning his back or asleep.

"Why the fuck am ah never looking at the camera?" he whined. He wanted some cute couple pictures, dammit!

"Couldn't have you suspecting what I was planning," Simon said, kissing his shoulder soothingly. Only then Soap noticed that he had taken his mask off at some point and turned to ask for a proper kiss, which he immediately got.

"Keep going, there's more pictures," Simon whispered against his lips when he tried to turn around to kiss him some more. His pouting only got him a smirk in response, so he got comfortable again and brought the slide viewer back against his eyes.

He was happy he did. The next picture waiting for him was just Simon in the mirror, almost in full gear, but with one gloveless hand dragging his trousers down so the camera could see the bottom of his stomach, follow along his happy trail and reaching the very top of his pubic hair. The picture cut of his head, but he could see that his mouth was uncovered and he was holding the glove with his teeth.

Soap groaned. "Steaming Jesus, love, you're so hot."

He felt Simon hide his face in the back of his neck, warmer than usual, and chuckled a bit. He loved him so fucking much.

There were four more pictures of Simon, in various suggestive poses and states of undress, some almost showing his cock but never quite committing, making Johnny feel like he was being teased.

He was getting hard though and so ready to be done with the pictures and access the real thing. But Simon was still tense behind him. In fact, he had only gotten tenser and tenser with each click.

Soap was unsure why. They never had a problem with their sexual life, Simon had already changed his mind about having sex after starting and Soap had absolutely no problem with that, was glad to hug him instead and reassure him when he had tried to apologize.

Simon knew that there was no pressure, ever, to have sex. Hell, Johnny would still be happy even if Simon decided that he never wanted to have sex again, and he had made sure to make Simon understand that.

Then he got to the last picture and immediately understood.

It wasn't a picture of either of them, just a little bit of paper, with a few words written in Ghost's awful handwriting.

Just a few words that made Johnny drop the viewer on the covers and turn around to grab Simon's face, worriedly looking in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking for any trace of Simon forcing himself. "Baby, ah'm happy to bottom for the rest of mah life, there's no pressure, okay?"

Simon looked at him with warmth in his eyes and his cheeks completely red, a wrapping bow added on top of his head. "I know," he said simply. "I just want to. I don't want to be haunted by memories anymore. I used to like it, and I want to like it again. With you. Just.... Be gentle, okay?"

Johnny kissed his forehead. "Ah dinnae think ah ken how no tae be gentle with ye, love."

[reminiscingtonight]

Watching the Arsenal game highlights and why I am not surprised that Amanda scored with her head

[irritablepoe]

started the magnus archives, wish me luck sleeping tonight

[unproduciblesmackdown]

that moment when: everyone's lives are restricted and constricted and these imposed consequences are attributed to anyone's continual individual failures to seek, find, and follow the Correct Path through Life, and so everyone is left on their own to only be seeking & finding these failures as well as the only answer to how their lives can be better....versus Not seeing the world as the free marketplace meritocracy of everyone's personal failures/successes, nor everything in your own life, and thus not forever having to scrutinize Where You Must Be Bringing It Upon Yourself by fucking up or at least failing to do the correct thing, and exist only in perpetual punishment for your ongoing failure and occasional temporary reprieves from it. recognizing everything that wasn't & isn't & wouldn't be [this is because you're bringing it upon yourself] and thus having more capacity & capability to look at the realm of your personal individual self, reality, experiences, life through the perpetual instances of seeking, finding, and following your own needs/wants through one's inherent personhood and exercises of autonomy and recognition of where & when & how one recognizes moments of their existing freely & in more resonant genuine alignment with themself, you know? endless examples to be found in endless fractals of [where & how are people's lives made smaller]. and that of course this doesn't preclude the ability/option at any time to question one's choices, since you'll be able to find more Actual choices available to you (and, also crucially, find more actual choices made by others that are in the pursuit of limiting Yours) to look at, and people getting to exercise their autonomy isn't the same as "everyone doing anything they want regardless of how it affects others" since that [how does it affect others?] element instead being Regarded would be able to lead to recognizing that, in fact, an effect might be the infringement on others' autonomy, hence: There's A Problem....like the ability to just go ham with [questioning???] anything in existence, certainly including oneself, b/c the "norm" is such that rather you're only supposed to be able to question yourself for your failings (or those positioned as less than, thus, beneath you) and not even have the language to express a questioning of aspects of life beyond that b/c stop calling anyone "cis" they're just Normal, Just Be Normal and it would all be fine

[nyxraex]

Star Stable Online - OC [Picrew]

Saga L. Ojanperä | 5th Soul Rider | Aideen Reincarnated

Nickname(s):

Shutterbug (by Imane Highcantle)

Horse Lady (by Xin)

Little Flea | Little Dove (by Ydris)

Bug (by Wynna Sunbeam)

Age: 21 DoB: 15th of April, 20XX Constellation: The Rune (Jorvik), Aries (West) PoB: Oulu, North-Ostrobothnia; Finland Resides: Valedale Village, Valedale; Jorvik Height: 197cm | 6'6" Weight: ~95kg | ~209.4 lbs

Family: - Timo Ojanperä ( father ) - Suusan Ahola ( mother ) - Unnamed biological father - 5 younger sisters - 2 unnamed paternal aunts - Jaakko Ojanperä (older paternal first-cousin) - Unnamed maternal uncle ( estranged ) - Unnamed maternal grandparents ( estranged )

Horses: - Starfinder [ Soul Horse | Jorvik Warmblood | Mare | 11 yo | 19.8 hh ] Personality:

[ TBA ]

Trivia:

- Was thought to have albinism, but after multiple visits to different Doctors it was concluded that she just ended up inheriting some dormant genes causing the lack of pigmentation in her skin, hair and eyes. - Her name consists of 1 name per parent's choice: [ Saga | mom who wanted to give her a name that isn't from her culture ] [ Loviisa | dad who wanted to honor his late maternal grandma ]

[pitzer]

I love this person

“Occasionally I’ll have a beer after work and break out the sketchbook. But I had wanted to be this great painter. I wanted to do these grand things: big, huge oil paintings. But those days of painting all the time were such a roller coaster. There were these periods of extreme depression, followed by manic states of trying to put myself out there. I couldn’t do it anymore. I mainly felt sorry for my dad. I know it was rough for him. My mom hadn’t wanted me to go to art school. She wanted me to do something more practical, but my dad said: ‘No. This is what he wants to do, and I want to support his dream.’ And then I abandoned it. That was the first time I had to deal with real failure. A lot of times when you’re an artist, it’s your job, it’s your lifestyle, it’s your entire fucking identity. It wasn’t like I failed to do a thing. It was like: I failed to be something, you know? It was a failure to live up to what I thought was my destiny. But then on the other side of that, there was this figuring out that there was nothing wrong with me the entire time. I didn’t need to be something else to have meaningful friendships, or a good relationship. I didn’t need to be something else to be loved and cared about. After work tonight I’m going to meet up with a person who’s in love with me, and I can’t wait. And that person met me long after I gave up on being a full-time artist. They met me when I wasn’t even a chef yet. I was a piss-poor, part-time line cook. But even then, they decided I was worth it. So you know, there’s something there. There’s something there that’s enough.”

[sakurarisen]

Plopped another mini, quick update into things because I am tired(tm) and I was left alone today with no drafts to do, unless I've lost threads in the activity feed and haven't realized it: There's now a 'Halcyon Lore' section in my rules with a few details to it! These are just base and basic details to explain what to expect from the fact it exists and what it is overall with a little better detail than I've had before, as well as how I plan to work it into canon settings. <3

This lore is growing by the day, steadily connecting a bunch of dots I didn't think were connected prior to this and I love it to pieces, but I also want it to be easy to follow for anyone interacting with me, too. If anyone's interested in this kindda stuff, given it does (and frankly/honestly, has been, even before I knew any of this) play into how I write Sera, it's the 'Halcyon Lore' section under my rules! <3

~Pom