#Great this only took me 10 months *crying*

[plantwithoutplot]

I'M FINALLY DONE WITH THE FIRST DRAFT OF CHAPTER 12 FOR SPEAK UP, BOYS!

Now,, gotta type it,,, and edit it,,,,,,, and edit it again,,,,,,,,,,

[tender-rosiey]

What would happen if gojo has 2 babies? And they both start crying at the same time and poor gojo has to find a solution in this situation 🥲 his younger baby that is only months old starts crying which makes the older sibling that's 2 years older wake up and starts crying 😭

little voice — gojo satoru x f!reader

you’re on a girls’ vacation. it’s okay. it’s cool.

but it isn’t.

throughout his entire life of fighting curses, emotional trauma, technique training, and unending migraines, he has never felt so much stress like he does right now.

his two kids are truly angels: full of kindness, compassion and—as expected of a child of gojo satoru—full of mischief.

they also share the same amount of love he has for you and, of course, even more. so separate two kids who adore their mother and you get chaos.

satoru just found out that the one who keeps the balance in the house is you, and thinking back about it, it should’ve been obvious because everyone in this house listens to you.

for example, one time when you were out on a simple visit to nanami to take some of the sweet bread he has, you had strictly told satoru to put the two kids to sleep at 8:30 exactly.

he thought it’s too early, but then you explained to him that s/n sleeping gave him time and freedom to look after your baby daughter who was, admittedly, a handful that would not sleep unless she was carried.

so satoru obediently listened, or at least he tried to.

a shameful failed trial at that.

in his defense, what was he supposed to do when s/n gave him puppy eyes asked for a mere 10 minutes more, say no? of course not!

so, like the great father he is, he gave him a couple more minutes, and nothing will make satoru regret his decision since to him his son’s smile is worth the world.

…except maybe the chandelier that is now on the floor and his precious baby daughter who just took one the biggest poops he has known of and his son who is panicking about how to clean this mess before you come home.

and come home you did and to all this mess.

swiftly, you picked up your daughter and changed her diaper, even making her giggle and squeal in between.

then you hugged your son and cleaned up the shattered glass together and disposed of the chandelier. lastly, you stood in front of your husband with a big frown after you’ve put the kids to sleep.

satoru could swear that he couldn’t fall more in love with you. hell, he could even twirl you around and kiss you breathless, but he feels like that would just lead him to the couch.

so he works to butter you up first before trying anything, “hey my sweet cute honeypie—“

you simply quirk an eyebrow.

and he falls to his knees, “I am sorry! I just couldn’t resist his puppy eyes! you should’ve seen them; he looked so cute!”

“I saw them a million times before he was even born, ‘toru.”

your husband gasps, “how!?”

“our son is an exact copy of you, sweetie.”

so yeah that was one of too many times, and if it isn’t apparent that you are the mediator then satoru wants to let the world know that even his students listen to you.

like that one time at school when the first years were caught up fighting with each other, the second years were trying to pull them apart, and satoru was too busy cackling at them while holding d/n that no one noticed panda’s little tail being—god knows why—on fire, not even panda himself.

that was until your precious son tugged at your husband’s shirt and pointed at panda, saying a simple sentence (phrase), “papa, panda fire.”

satoru’s eyes zero on panda then they widen, before he gapes, “oh shit, you’re right!”

“bad word!”

“sorry!”

however, despite satoru almost bolting to put out the fire, panda was finally able to smell it and hummed, “something’s being cooked.” then he looked at his tail, “oh it’s me.”

hit the panic button.

“I am being cooked!” he screams and starts running around, “panda meat doesn’t taste good; I promise!”

the rest start running after him with the intention to help, but panda could only translate it into one thing as he screamed, “don’t eat me!!”

“no one is gonna eat you, dumbass!!” maki yelled but to no avail as no one could get to the panicked panda.

your husband is running as well, half taking photos and videos and half ensuring that d/n does not fall from his hands—considering how she keeps giggling, squealing, and wriggling her entire body.

ijichi took matters into his own hands and called the only person he knows will be able to solve this.

“hello?”

“panda is on fire, the kids are running after him, and gojo is just recording!” he wails, eyes frantically following said people then straying to a particularly small person, “also s/n is trying to eat the grass.”

“what?!”

and like lightning, you’re on the field. you lightly scold s/n and tell him to cover his ears.

you turn to the walking fire hazard and scream, “everyone stop! and panda get over here!”

“yes ma’am!”

he stands still in front of you, almost ignoring his ‘fiery’ tail. you effectively put it out and ruffle his fur until he calms down. the others take turns in greeting you and getting their daily dose of motherly hugs.

your son sprints to you and holds onto your leg, refusing to let go.

and they all make way for the star of the show: the all-mighty gojo satoru.

he beams, “wifey, yet again you save the day!”

he easily picks up s/n and pulls the four of you into one big hug. he rubs his cheek against yours, “have I told you how much I love you?”

“I was gone for 3 minutes.”

“I haven’t?!” he gasps, completely ignoring you, “I am a terrible husband!”

he sobs and starts slowly melting to the ground where he believes a ‘disrespectful, good-for-nothing husband who doesn’t tell his wife just how much he loves her’.

anyway, back to the present. the kids have been miraculously put to sleep—a process that satoru does not have the time nor the energy to describe.

when he stops ‘reminiscing ‘, he starts paling at the fact that all of these were mere examples of things going wrong without you, and you were in the freaking area.

now, you’re not 10 steps away, and satoru is feeling very threatened.

he is sprawled out on the couch, eye bags ever so prominent. he sighs and lets his head fall back, grateful for the silence that fills the house, but he hates it at the same time.

satoru was never fond of silence—the type that feels so heavy on the heart—even when he was a teenager. it gives space and time to think about all the things he is desperate to avoid.

he did eventually come to love silence but only the silence that accompanies the times he spends with you, but that’s a story for another time though.

opening his eyes, he looks around and his gaze lands on your recent family photo. his smile is almost instantaneous.

if there’s anything he will rub in suguru’s face when they meet is that he managed to score himself such a lovely wife and an adoring family, a real family. he mentally writes a plus one on the score chart between him and suguru then relaxes.

he would like to scurry to the bed where your scent still lingers, but his fatigue has simply chained him to the couch—he is overreacting you’re only gone for three days.

so, he decides, it’s time to rest and hope for a dream where he gets to hold you and live with his longing until he can feel your lips against his skin again.

the great gojo satoru closes his eyes and welcomes his slumber.

that is until, his little sweetheart decides to breakout into a wail, effectively causing her dad’s eyes to snap open.

he jumps to his feet and sprints to her room, “d/n, what’s wrong, honey?”

he softly cradles her in his—gigantic—arms and starts rocking her slowly. “it’s okay; papa’s here,” he murmurs in hopes of calming down, but his daughter doesn’t register his voice yet.

she can, however, feel his all too familiar chest against her cheek, so she grips at it tightly and continues crying.

satoru’s expression is full of distress, and his heart contracts painfully at how his daughter’s cries. then it’s almost like the entire world is against him right now because he also starts to hear small little sniffles from the door of the room.

your husband looks back to find his son dragging his teddy bear with him in one hand and in another, trying to wipe his tears as much as possible.

your husband quickly shifts d/n into one arm and leads s/n into him with the other. your son nuzzles into his dad’s chest and murmurs, “I want mama.”

almost like she understands the mention of you, she calms down a tiny bit and her hands start reaching for the air—reaching for you.

satoru slides down to the ground and pulls them both into his chest, and he starts rubbing s/n’s shoulder and kisses the top of his head and sighs, “me too, s/n, but, hey, we are strong and capable, so we have to hold on until she comes home, right?”

a little sniffle escapes s/n as he nods before saying a soft, “yeah.”

satoru smiles and ruffles his hair, “that’s my champ.”

s/n lets out a little smile and snuggles into his dad’s embrace.

so satoru shifts his attention to the sniffling baby in his arm, he frowns, “now what are we going to do with you, little missy?”

your son purses his lips for a moment, before placing the teddy bear in his hands into his little sister’s tiny arms. curiosity takes over for a moment, and she starts exploring the new item.

then s/n presses on the teddy bear’s chest and it plays a little voice message from you:

“hey sweetie! mama loves you, so don’t worry about those nightmares! I am always here.”

your daughter’s eyes shine and she hugs the teddy as much as possible and utters a small, “ma!”

satoru blinks owlishly then looks at s/n with smile, “so you had that all along?”

s/n nods slowly and holds into his father tighter, obviously getting tired and getting ready to sleep. satoru would love to say the same about his other angel but—oh she fell asleep.

looks like all it took was a little listen to your voice.

he will probably make you record a thousand voice messages when you come back and make you get him his own special build-a-bear as well cause what the hell? what about your husband?

he shakes the thought away, realizing that he can finally fall asleep, albeit on the floor.

with no blanket.

no pillow.

not even his favorite cushion.

but he wasn’t raised to be ungrateful, so he will take what he can get. he will simply make up for lost sleep when you’re back. it will feel better that way in any case.

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[rwshfordgirl]

time to meet your parents.

paring: jude bellingham × reader summary: jude wants to meet reader parents. a/n: i apologize for any spelling mistakes that may appear :) i hope you like it!

when i was younger and i thought about the day would have to introduce my boyfriend to my dad, i would almost cry. just imagining it would make me panic.

my father is the kind of father who tells his daughter something like "you'll only date when you're 30." and i took that seriously. i avoided having male friends as much as possible. i didn't want my father to see me around any boys. i remember my mother saying that this was the biggest nonsense ever, but i don't know, i was afraid my father would fight with me.

as I got older, i started to agree with my mother. i had my first kiss at 16 and currently at 20, i have kissed a total of 4 mouths and lucky for my father it is difficult to find a man who is good enough to be introduced to the parents these days.

but i found one three months ago, he hit my car when i was coming back from college. the most handsome real madrid player in my opinion, jude bellingham.

but he caught me off guard this week, he said to me loud and clear "i want to meet your parents". i, who was lying with my head on his chest, stood up abruptly and looked at him. 

everything my father told me about boyfriends went through my head, i'm 10 years away from turning 30. but if i want my relationship with bellingham to reach a more serious level, i have to introduce him to my parents, right? and while i've met almost all of his family, he's never even seen a single one of my relatives.

i told him he could come to my house on saturday to have dinner with me and my parents, he accepted. now all i had to do was talk to my parents.

i went home rehearsing everything i was going to say and when i got home and they were having dinner, a great time to tell them the news. 

"my love, i was about to call you to find out where you were." my mother said as soon as she saw me. "i forgot to tell you that i would be staying late at college." at least i wouldn't have to lie to them anymore about staying late at college, aka bellingham house.

i sat at the table with them, not hungry at all. my dad noticed that i was acting weird. "are you okay?" he asked. "yeah, yeah.. i just wanted to tell you something!" they stopped everything they were doing to look at me. "go ahead and talk." my mom said.

here we go. "remember when someone hit my car?" they nodded. "so, the boy who hit the car and i ended up getting pretty close. and i really wanted you guys to meet him, since things could get serious between us."

ny mother's eyes were wide and she had a smile on her face. "i can't believe it! i'm so happy, my love! how is this meeting going to be? tell him to come to dinner with us on saturday." my mother was excited. "i told him that, but i wanted you to confirm it." i said. "It's more than confirmed."

"i can't believe my baby has grown up, i want to meet him now!" my father left me speechless and even gave me a kiss on the top of my head to leave me even more shocked.  my mother winked at me.

easier than i expected it to be, now just wait until saturday.

                                 ...

bellingham is already here. he arrived earlier than i expected, the city traffic is apparently conspiring in our favor. but i was in the shower when he arrived, and my mother was the one who greeted him.

"dear, i seem to have felt that jude was english." my mother said as soon as she saw me coming down the stairs. "has jude introduced himself to you yet, mom?" i hugged the player from behind and he held my hands "of course, you took too long! your mother and i are friends now."

"if my wife approves of you, i approve of you too." my father arrived in the living room after going to the market. "hey man, how are you?" he said as he greeted bellingham. "good and you?" jude replied, "i'm glad to meet you. i just want to confirm if your name is really college?" i almost died of embarrassment. my father already suspected my lie. "i can't believe it, she said she was going to college? but unfortunately, my name is jude, not college." bellingham is a sly man. he knew very well what i was telling my parents when I was going to meet him. "oh, you're a real madrid player, aren't you? i'm only  used to the third division of the Spanish league." my father said "i'm going to have to bring you to the side of the biggest team in spain, so i'm sure that when you go to the bernabeu you'll change teams." jude joked "never." my father replied.

dinner went well, my parents loved jude and jude loved my parents. my mother wants him to come here all the time, she even asked if he wanted to sleep here tonight, bellingham didn't accept just because he had to go to training early tomorrow. he was all happy when my dad said he was the son-in-law of his dreams and my mom said he looked like the son she always wanted to have.

i'm going to skip the dating part and just marry him right away, i love him and so do my parents, i don't know what I'm waiting for. 

[doja365]

[Unwanted Ransom (Chapter 1)]

What was I made for?

TW: Mentions of Death, PTSD, ED, SH, Neglect

Masterlist

🎵Thumbs- Sabrina Carpenter🎵 🎵What was I made for?- Billie Ellish🎵

On my first day of staying here, I was excited to see if I had brothers.

Dick the oldest, supposed to be there for me, and pose as a role model right? WRONG, he instead leaves me on read when I text him. The fucker has enough guts to ignore me, and when he notices me, it's when I either get in trouble at school, or when his teamates talk to me. He had time to look after Bludhaven.

Tim, one of the family's detectives, doesn't find me interesting, and thinks of himself too big to talk to a lowlife like me. AND WE LIVE IN THE SAME FUCKING HOUSE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. With him, I have little to no memories. All he does is twiddle his thumbs, pretending I wasn't there.

Cass, Steph, Barb. I never really cared bout' them, all they do is talk shit about others, and play daddy's little girl. I was never daddy's little girl and I never complained. Not much to really talk about with them, I even learned ASL just for some light communication.

Jason, alright, I'mma be honest here. He was the closest thing I had to a brother, but he only came to the house at night for some food and rest. The best memory with him, was him taking me to school on the first day, I joined grade 5 class because I have an IQ of 190. Everything was great until he died, a part of me died with him.

Damian, the "golden apple" of this whole shit hole. This bitch thinks that he can do anything, because he is the bastard of Bruce Wayne, and Talia Al Ghul. He gets to train with Dick, while I watch them train to become a "hero". He bullied me even when I was a year older than him. Ughh, what a bitch. He was the reason I got the name Jinx, I was the bad luck of the family

Bruce, the man had the guts to adopt me and change my true name to a wayne. I was named Xerxes because it meant warrior, my dad never thought I was one. I'm not even allowed to call him dad.

Alfred, oh sweet innocent Alfred. I considered him as my father when my mother's "sperm donor", couldn't be there for me. He was there to teach me how to bake and cook, the best part was that he never admonished me for my bad behavior at school.

For 4 years I had lived with them, every night I had prayed for a miracle to happen. At night the same dream, every morning, the same nightmare. After the first 5 months of my stay, I started to avoid eating, because of depression.

And before I go to bed I looked for any blade I could, and locked myself in my bedrooom. I cut myself below the wrist, while keeping a first aid nearby. I never felt any pain from the wounds, but I felt the scar in my heart.

It's ironic how a whore with nothing, could love a child more, than a family that has everything. I always laughed at the idea, I never allowed myself to cry or show weakness. Bruce never knew how to deal with emotions anyway, so why cry?

I never cried, when Damian slashed my arm with a knife. Not when Barbara told me to go to hell, not when Tim destroyed the birthday present I made for him. And especially when Bruce called me a mistake. I only cried when Jason was murdered by the Joker.

I always thought crying was useless, so I worked hard. I got straight A's, I made friends, I enlisted for multiple sports when I turned 10. I even took up art just for the sake of fitting in.

But I will always be the Wayne pushed from the spotlight. Not even then, could I cry.

I just went to my dilapidated bedroom, God, it was ornamented with all of my awards and certificates. I started to pack my stuff, I even took the photo of me and my mother. There wasn't much to pack, all I got were hand me downs, and the dregs of my "beloved siblings."

At night, it was the perfect time to escape, with the villains on the loose, they had to take night shifts. So I slowly climbed out of my window and placed the note I had prepared for Alfred. And I prepared to go to the abyss that awaits me...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N Hiii... I got this idea from reading @acid-ixx, and @luludeluluramblings... I'm making a seperate part for the note Jennifer gave Alfred. HOPE U LUV THIS <333

[lila-lou]

✨Broken✨

Summary: Dean made a huge mistake and had to deal with the consequences.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt, -but some fluff in between

Word Count: 1882

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“Goodbye, Dean Winchester”, you giggled as you briskly turned towards your front door. Dean gave you the biggest Smile you had ever see on anyone's face. He shook his head in amusement, his eyes shining. “You’re something else (y/n)”, he chuckled and continued grinning while opening the door of his car. “Oh, you fucking bet!”, You winked at him before parting ways. At least for tonight.

Just a Date. One single date. A single evening. Without sex, without kissing. It only took four hours for you to fall head over heels in love with him. Four hours of your laughter, your sparkling eyes and your sassy jokes were all it took for Dean to fall head over heels in love with you.

3 missed calls.

6 missed calls and 2 messages.

13 missed calls and 8 messages.

"Just leave me alone!", you cursed, throwing your phone in the corner of your dingy motel room as tears steadily streamed down your cheeks. You sat on the floor with your face in your arms and your legs bent, leaning your back against the creaky bed. You never imagined that you would be sitting here like a heap of misery, crying your eyes out. Not because of your fiancée. Not because of Dean.

The two of you had been together for 6 years, engaged for a year and were actually planning on getting married in two months. You had come to terms with his lifestyle, his living situation and all the dangers, the monsters and all that shit that came with his way of life. You sacrificed everything normal for this man… and for what?

Dean was the love of your life and until three days ago you thought he felt the same way, but you were obviously wrong.

8 missed calls.

12 missed calls and 8 messages.

16 missed calls and 18 messages.

You immediately regretted it when you looked at your phone after a way too long shower. Not just because of all the messages and missed calls, but also because of your wallpaper. It showed the happiest moment of your life. A photo Sam had taken shortly after Dean put an engagement ring on your finger. You camped in the mountains of Montana. Dean had waited for the most beautiful sunset of all and proposed to you in front of a beautiful, large lake. As the two of you lay hugged in front of the campfire in the twilight, Sam took advantage of your inattention to take this great snapshot.

“It suits you”, Dean stroked your slim fingers. “It´s beautiful”, you whispered, barely audible, your voice trembling slightly. Your back was pressed against his chest and you were sitting between his legs. With sparkling eyes, you turned to him and looked him in the eyes. “I love you”, you whispered. “I love you”, he replied, just as lovestruck as you. You were so sweet and cheesy that even Sam felt sick at the sight of you two.

As said, the most beautiful and happiest moment of your life.

Wearing only a towel, you sat down on the bed and looked at your hand with the ring. Was it all just lies? Was he that good at hiding his true self?

You had already forgiven him for so much and overlooked so much. Even when he almost killed you as a demon, you didn't stop loving him.

But it was different now.

“Dean… you really up for this? I don’t know if this is such a good idea“, you mumbled as you got out of the shower together 10 days ago. "If not now, when? (y/n), I love you. I couldn't imagine a future with any other woman and I'm sure we would be great parents. Please Sweetheart, give it a shot. Or better yet, let me get to take a shot”, he wiggled his Eyebrows, before taking your hands in his.

“Please, Baby”.

You looked at him doubtfully and there was silence for a few minutes before you took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s try for a little Dean then”, you sighed, still a little hesitant. It was the second biggest smile you'd ever had to see on Dean's lips. His arms wrapped around your body, almost crushing you as he spun you through the air once before carrying you to your bedroom.

You looked at the clock and started getting dressed. It was time to leave the motel and move on. You didn't know where to go yet. You didn't know how long either. What you knew was that you needed space.

Distance from everything and everyone.

You still hoped that Dean had been possessed, hexed or cursed in some way, but based on his and Sam's texts, that was obviously not the case. Drunk, yes. However, nothing more.

You've been gone for four weeks now. Four weeks in which you didn't let anyone hear from you, in which you were constantly on the move so no one could find you and four weeks in which Dean slowly but surely became sick from worry.

"Dean!", Sam knocked on his older brother's door. Dean hasn't come out of his room in three days except to pee. He didn't eat anything, he didn't talk, he just vegetated.

“Come on, buddy. You have to eat something! Starving won't bring her back either”. After fifteen minutes, Sam left the plate in front of Dean's door with a sigh and went back into the kitchen to eat his burger.

Two more days passed before Sam took advantage of his brother's pee break to push him against the bathroom wall with his forearm on his throat. "What the hell is wrong with you! Dean, I know (y/n) meant a lot to you, but look at you!", Sam snapped at his brother. Sam was actually the quieter of the two, but he couldn't see how much Dean was letting himself go. He had probably already lost at least 15 pounds, stopped shaving and was basically just a wreck.

With a firm tug, Dean released himself from Sams grip and looked at him angrily.

“You don´t know shit! I lost her, Sammy! I fucking broke her heart and lost the best thing that ever happened to me. You didn't see her eyes. Shit, how could I be so stupid", Dean's voice grew louder and he found himself angrily punching a hole in the wooden bathroom door. “Fucking shit”, he rubbed his face hard as his knuckles bled. Sam sighed before pulling his brother into a tight hug. Of course, Dean fought back at first, but he was just too weak and too sad, so he allowed it, while a few tears ran down his cheeks.

It took another two days before Sam finally got Dean to shower. A week until he was eating somewhat normally again. Two weeks until he came out of his room again. Three until he went hunting again for the first time. But even after a total of 9 weeks, no smile found its way onto his face.

Just like with you.

Nevertheless, you had to overcome yourself, gather all your courage and push open the heavy iron door of the bunker.

You did your best to go downstairs quietly, but Sam, who was about to go jogging, spotted you immediately.

“(y/n)!”

Even though it was tearing you up inside to be here again, you gave Sam a small smile.

“Hey”, you murmur, letting him hug you tightly once you reach the bottom. You couldn't stop your eyes from glazing over. “I missed you, little one”. Sam kissed your head before letting you out of his embrace and studying you. You looked absolutely exhausted and tired.

It took him a few seconds to find his voice again. “He´s in the garage”, Sam said quietly, looking at you with pity. “I’m... just here to get my things”, you cleared your throat and started to walk towards your shared room, but Sam gently held your arm. “I know he made big mistakes (y/n). And I definitely don't want to protect him. You have every right to leave him, but please tell him you're okay. Please let him say goodbye to you”. Sam’s voice was gentle and soothing, but even his compassionate words, for both Dean and you, didn’t change your broken heart. “I… I can’t, Sam”, you slowly pulled your arm away from him.

“(y/n)... please. It breaks him... Please... He's my brother”.

With tears in your eyes, you shook your head and wrapped your arms around your body. "I'm sorry Sammy. I wish you nothing but the best”, you somehow tried to smile before going into your old room.

When you got there, you were briefly surprised to find no chaos. The room has never been as tidy as it is now, but your heart has never hurt as much as it does now when you look at your bed.

With tears streaming down your cheeks and quiet, barely audible sobs escaping your throat, you grabbed the few things you had from the room.

Carrying a large, fully-packed bag, you looked at the picture of yourself on Dean's nightstand, you swallowed hard and walked out the door, your back first as you pulled the door shut. You wiped away your tears with your free hand as you felt something hard against your back.

“(y/n)”.

His voice gave goosebumps all over your body. It was so deep, rough, scratchy. Emotionally charged. Full of regret and sadness. And yet you heard a glimmer of hope. Maybe you wanted to hear that too. Who knows.

You both stood rooted to the spot for a few seconds until Dean tried to turn you around with his hand on your waist, but you immediately slapped his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me! Don’t you dare touch me ever again!”, you hissed loudly. Tears immediately welled up in your eyes again. Dean didn’t flinch at your reaction. He wasn't surprised and couldn't blame you. His eyes also slowly filled with tears when he saw the bag over your shoulder.

Dean wanted to take you in his arms, hold you close to him and never let you go. He wanted to show you how much he loved you, show you what a big mistake he had made, prove to you that something like that would never happen again. He would do anything to make up for what he did to you. You were his everything. The love of his life. He wanted to build a future with you. He wanted to have a baby with you. A family. You were his world.

But when he saw the bitterness through all your tears, he knew he had lost. The curtain closed. That's it. The end. He had destroyed everything.

“I love you (y/n)”, he whispered, barely audible.

“You never did”, you replied with a dry throat, taking his hand and placing your engagement ring in it.

"Goodbye Dean Winchester".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Again, I'm thinking about writing a second or even third part. I guess I just can't stick with one-shots ._.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

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[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Coming To An Understanding #3

So my idea is to have 10 of these little one shots - most of which I have at least sketched out and partially written so hopefully there won't be too big a gap between. Some are shorter than others, but (at least in my head) they all fit in the same verse and happen in order?

~*~

Previous

Melissa tries to distract herself at home that night.  She’s cooked, she’s cleaned and now she’s trying to find something on the tv to hold her attention.  Nothing does, however.  All she keeps thinking about is your face as you’d left school that day, telling her you were just gonna head home that night. 

She wants to respect your wishes if you want a little space.  You have been practically joined at the hip, so it makes sense, she thinks.  That doesn’t stop her worrying, however.  You might have put on a brave face and slapped on a smile, but Melissa knows you well enough to know when you’re faking. 

Turning off the tv, she throws a few things in a bag and grabs not only her own key, but the spare you gave her to your apartment.  She doesn’t let herself hesitate when she pulls up outside your building, slamming her truck door closed decisively.  If she gives herself time to think, she’ll talk herself out of this. 

She just needs to see you and reassure herself that you’re okay.  If she doesn’t all she’s going to do is worry.  Slipping her key into the lock, she quietly opens the door, poking her head around the doorframe.  “Hey, it’s just me!” she calls out.

You jump at the sound of the door opening, sitting up and looking over the back of the sofa to see Melissa���s smiling face.  “Sorry, you should have messaged.  I’d have…” you trail off, not quite sure what you’d have done.  You try to untangle yourself from the blankets which you have buried yourself in. 

“What are you sorry for?” she asks.  She leans over the back of the sofa, stopping your fidgeting.  “Stop.  I didn’t come here to make you get up.  I came because you looked sad when you left today and I was worried.”

You look up at her, seeing the concern clearly painted across her features.  You sigh, dropping your gaze to your joint hands.  “It’s just my time of the month,” you tell her.  “I didn’t sleep very well and was just trying to make it through the day, but by the bell I was wiped.”

She lets go of your hands and makes her way around the sofa, coming to sit next to you.  “You know you can tell me things like that, don’t ya?  I mean, I get it.”

You duck your head, not looking at her.  “I didn’t want to ruin your night,” you mumble.  “I’m not exactly great company right now.”

“You know you don’t have to be in a good mood to spend time with me, right?” she asks her hand stroking over your thigh where it rests on the blankets. 

Raising your head, you meet her eyes, your cheeks flushed.  She’s being so nice and all you want to do is cry.  “I just…”  You shake your head.  “You don’t deserve to have to put up with this after work.”

“Hey!” she’s quick to snap.  “I’m not putting up with anything.  I’m here because I want to be.  I’m the one who came over, remember?” she says, a soft smile on her face.  “But I can go, if you’d rather?”

You hesitate, and you hate yourself for it.  You want her to stay but you feel selfish for wanting it when you just want to curl up with her and mope about the fact that your painkillers aren’t even touching the pain.

She sees your hesitation, and rather than letting her fears get the best of her, that she’s too much, that you just want some time alone, she tries to read your expression.  “Let me try that again.  Can I stay?  As long as it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable?”

At this, you nod. 

“You had anything to eat?”

This time, you shake your head.  You’d had a plain cracker when you took your painkillers, but beyond that the thought of standing long enough to make anything had just been too much. 

“M’kay, then how about I make something to eat?”

You’re about to protest that she doesn’t have to, but you find yourself silenced by a single finger being pressed to your lips. 

“I want a nod for yes, a shake for no,” she tells you.  “Are you hungry?”

The rumble of your stomach is all the answer she needs and you blush scarlet at your traitorous body.  She removes her finger from your lips, pressing a kiss to them instead before standing and heading to your small kitchen.  Peeking over the back of the sofa, you watch as she moves around the space, inspecting the contents of your fridge and cupboards. 

“Mac and cheese or grilled cheese?”

You take this as a silent comment on the amount of cheese currently in your fridge but don’t make mention of it.  “Mac and cheese?” you reply hesitantly.

She smiles at you.  “You know there’s not a right or wrong answer?  You want a mac and cheese, you get a mac and cheese.”

~

Of course, being Melissa, the macaroni cheese is more than just some cheese and pasta.  It tastes divine and you all but inhale it.  She doesn’t mention the speed at which you consume it, merely taking your plate and waving off your thanks.  She returns a few moments later with a glass of water and your painkillers. 

She leaves you to it as you take them only to return a few minutes later, your heat pack in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other, wrapped in a dishtowel.  “Shimmy forward,” she instructs you.

You frown, not quite sure what her plan is, but do as she asks anyway.  She hands you the ice cream and moves until she can slide in behind you.  Guiding you back to rest against her, she holds your heat pack in place with one hand before reaching around you and snagging one of the spoons from the open tub of ice cream you hold. 

“Better?”

“I don’t deserve you,” you tell her, twisting to press a kiss to her lips. 

She shakes her head.  “None of that.  I told you, I’m here because I want to be.  Now, you wanna watch a movie or keep going with that series we started?”

~

You’re not sure when you nodded off, but when you wake up with your head pillowed on Melissa’s chest, you’re immediately embarrassed.  She made the effort to come over and spend time with you and all you could do was eat the food she made and fall asleep?

“Don’t you dare say sorry,” she tells you, her face serious.  “I don’t want or need you to say sorry.  I don’t just wanna spent time with you for the fun stuff.  I want you to be comfortable with me like this too.”

You sniffle, hating how emotional you get during your period.  “Thank you.  I just didn’t want to be selfish and ruin your night too.”

Her face softens.  “My night isn’t ruined if it’s spent with you.  But if I am spending the night we’re going to have to move this to a bed or my back isn’t going to forgive me.” 

You close your eyes as she presses a kiss to the side of your head, lettings her words sink in.  You only open them again when she squeezes you gently where her arms are looped around your waist. 

“Come on, you go get comfy and I’ll tidy up here and warm up your heat pack.”

~ Next

[girl-dot-tzt]

Alright results are in, I'm not allowed to finish for 36 days 🙃

Im going to update this as a lil diary to keep me honest💃

Day 1: I'm feeling pretty good, I notice I get really horny when I take my prog the ✨️fun way✨️ so I'm going to use that method to increase the challenge this month. I'm thinking of meeting a friend tomorrow so I'm excited!

Day 2: more of the same, pretty standard, had a great time with said friend. Getting a teeny but pent up but nothing crazy yet.

Day 3: getting more pent up but it's still manageable, made the mistake of reading a ton of horny posts and getting myself really horny. Thankfully I calmed down and now I'm good to go

Day 4: went to work, did some bike wrenching, now im boutta sleep. pretty uneventful but I'm meeting a good friend of mine tomorrow so I plan on making up for the lack of horny twofold. I need to get some Oregonian mutuals bc I'd like to bite someone :3

Day 5: got my tits fondled for like 3 hours while I watched anime and got insanely high, I need like 4 people to hold me down and grope/tease/fuck me... preferably all at once. I've got 31 more daysssssss, does it count if it's hands free? 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

Day 6: got no sleep, very horny, idk what direction Is up, and I need an answer to the question from yesterday 😫

Day 7: got sleep but not railed because if I get railed too well I'll could possibly finish and idk if that's OK yet :3. I'm going to mountain bike today! I'm super excited bc I need something to take the edge off, if I'm really unlucky I'll get too horny from the idea of getting fucked in the woods and make an update here.

Day 8: we're evening out a little, this may not be impossible, tbf I haven't had time to do much lately so when I finally get the time to ride my toys that might change. I'm planning on doing that tomorrow :3

Day 8 update: I accidentally took two progesterone pills because I boof mine, but I accidentally muscle memory-ed taking my prog orally. Got so horny during work that I nearly cried.

Day 9: I broke some spokes while mountain biking and now I'm sad, but horny and frustrated too. I can only think about being bred, but also being sad that my bike broke, damn fucking stupid sticks getting inbetween my fucking spokes. I need railed bad, etcetera etcetera

Day 10:

Girl abs, that is all

Day 11: I'm going to fuck myself on the biggest toy I own until I'm crying or edging with my Pspot🧍‍♀️ I will return

Day 12: I'm pretty sure I ended up getting edged. Pretty sure because I've never actually finished hands free before and my vibrator died right before I was about to finish. One of you witchy mother fuckers knew I was about to cheat or something, no other explanations, couldn't possibly be that I forgot to charge toys like a dumbass. Laugh it up, I got edged hard by my ADHD.

Days 13: I had a threesome and it was awesome! I explained my agreement to them and got teased a bunch as me and my friend dommed the fuck out of a gorgeous girl. We groped and kissed and sucked all over her body as she got more and more worked up, until eventually I was fucking her with my big purple vibrator and she came hands free for the first time! We made sure to shower her with all kinds of praise and congratulations 💃💃

Days 14-16: started a new job, I'm getting so horny these days that rather than feeling butterflies it's like an almost painful NEED. Like I just desperately need to get tied up and ground into dust, getting edged with my vibrator did a number on me because I'm a mess rn😆

Days 17-20: if I may be honest i embarked on this endeavor to try to finish hands free, I've never done it before but I desperately want to. I think I'll be able to do it by the end of these 36 days or sooner. Idk it's just a hunch🧍‍♀️

Day 21-29: 10 hr shifts in a lab will drive you nuts when there's nothing to think about but getting railed and ice cream percentages. On the plus side I am not only paid but required to eat ice cream every hour at my job. On the downside, I got so horny I cried last night🧍‍♀️😵‍💫😵‍💫

[gemini-stories]

remember me | j.wy x reader

synopsis: the years may have passed but he always remembered you. even when you didn't. pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader genre: idol!AU, friends to strangers to partners to lovers (?), smut (minors do not interact!!) warnings: idol wooyoung, idol reader, smut, face riding, cunnilingus, protected vaginal penetration (wrap it before you tap it), oral (female receiving), reader is bitchy, one sided pining, wooyoung is dumbly in love. if I miss anything pls let me know! word count: 7.6k ish a/n: tbh I wanted to get out of my comfort writing zone and decided to post my first fic here! this was supposed to be a one shot but it was getting too long for my liking, so maybe a part 2? anyways I'm open to any feedback and criticism so don't be shy to let me know and if you'd actually like to read the second part (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

─────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

The first time Wooyoung saw you was at the Junior Local Dance Competition you both participated when you were both 10 years old. He was dancing for the first time in front of a public after he started dance lessons three months ago. He messed up the steps. He was so nervous that he forgot a step and after that the whole choreography was a mess. He was on the floor sulking, in a corner backstage, far from anyone. 

“I knew I'd find you here crying,” you said with a warm smile. 

Wooyoung raised his glance towards you.

“I’m not crying!” he said embarrassed, crimson blossoming on his cheeks. 

“Yet. You’re upset and in the crying corner.You were about to cry if i wouldn’t have come here.” 

“Crying corner?” he asked, looking at the pink ruffles of your dress.

“We all come to this corner after our first performance. Usually everyone’s first performance is bad. Like really bad. So everyone who wants to cry and wants to do so alone comes here.”

He brought his knees to his chest and hid his face. “So I was really bad. Maybe I should quit before it’s too late.”

“Hey,” you lightly pushed his shoulder, your voice calm, “if we all were to quit, no one would come to this competition again. You should’ve seen me here the first time, I was a disaster,” you chuckled.

Wooyoung was emotionless. You seriously had to lighten him up somehow, otherwise he might mean what he is saying. You wished someone would have cheered you up when you were in his place four years ago. Now, you felt it was your duty to do it for someone else, so they wouldn’t go through a spiraling of self doubt at such a young age.

“Look, this was your first year, right?” you started cautiously. He slowly nodded his head and you took it as a sign to continue. “I bet next year you’ll even win the competition if you don’t give up now!”

“What?” he finally looked at you suspiciously.

“Practice every day and snatch the first place from me,” you said in the most serious way possible.

“How do you even know if you’ll win today?” he asked, laughing in your face. There it was.

“Well, I know I can win today, so you have to do it next year,” you grinned with a smile from ear to ear. “Pinky promise and all!” you extended your arm, fluttering your pinky finger.

Wooyoung looked at you puzzled. But why not, he thought. There was no guarantee you’d win today. So, he put his pinky into yours and you two sealed the promise with your thumbs.

“You can’t go back down now,” you said while getting up. “You have to win next year. Of course, you’ll have to beat me for that..but we made the promise, so work hard.”

Wooyoung was still as puzzled until you left. Does this mean he can’t give up now?

He got up and went to search for his parents in the audience. His parents waited for him with a sad smile, telling him he still did great and not to think about any mistake. He thought how you didn’t smile sadly at him. 

Then you came on stage. With your pink ruffle dress and glitter makeup. The audience clapped, wishing you good luck. It all went to silence and the music started flowing through the whole stage. And you started dancing. Wooyoung could only compare your dance to angels flying on the stage. You graciously moved on the song, smiling and lip-syncing to the song. 

You noticed him in the audience and you thought you should show him how confident you are. How confident he should be next time as well. You decided to improvise by getting closer to the edge of the stage, where he was sitting. You winked at him, sticking out your tongue and turned around to continue your choreography. The audience cheered.

Wooyoung was damn stunned. Did you just wink at him? Did anyone notice? He looked around but everyone seemed to think it was part of the dance. Maybe it actually was part of the dance. Your facial expressions were matching the mood of the song, which was very cheery. 

You finished your choreography with a courtesy and the whole public erupted in applause and cheers, while you went backstage.

You were right. You did win.

You fulfilled your side of the promise and now it was Wooyoung’s turn. He didn’t give up. He continued going to the dance classes. He thought about your performance every day. How confident and pretty you looked on stage, like the stage was your home. Like you were born to be on stage. He thought about how everyone in the audience was looking in awe at you, admiring the way you moved and clapping and cheering and smiling. And he thought that’s exactly how he wants them to look at him.

So he went to class after class after class for the whole year. He thought about his promise every day, motivating him to go forward. Quickly enough, it was time for the Junior Local Dance Competition. He was confident in his performance this year. His dance teacher complimented him so many times in the past months, even telling his parents how quickly he made such a progress. He was confident. Confident that he could beat you? Not so much. But he still had a promise to fulfill. Just you wait!

But he ended up being the one to wait. On the podium. With the first place medal in his hand. Alone. Because you were not there. He won but you were not there to see it. You didn’t come to that year's competition. Neither the next year’s. When he won again. Or the next, when once again he won.  

He thought he’ll never see you again. He thought about your performance that day. About how happy everyone was watching you. About how happy he was watching you.

Until you were dancing on the stage in front of him again. At the Regional Competition he attended when he was 14. You were dancing on a rendition of a popular pop song. Smiling and lip-syncing, while the audience was clapping and cheering for you. As he once remembered. Of course he’d recognize you and your smile, because you didn’t change at all. In reality, you changed a lot. You were taller, with shorter hair than he remembered, and not wearing the pink ruffled dress. 

You won. He came in second. He didn’t lose the competitions in a long time. But he was not upset because it was you. You won. You were there.

He wondered if you remembered him. You didn’t. You congratulated him for his performance telling him it was amazing after the awards were given and everyone went backstage. You didn’t bring up your promise and neither did him. Because immediately after you went to a group of girls, laughing and jumping in happiness. He looked at you and your group longingly. It’s been four years, of course you wouldn’t remember him and the stupid promise you both made when you were 10. 

He looked at you taking pictures with the girls. He recognised one of the girls. She was also attending the local competition every year and she briefly attended his classes as well, where she asked for his Instagram. She thought Wooyoung was a great dancer. She also thought he was very cute. That night he wondered if he could find your social media, maybe she would be following you. The girl had hundreds in her following list on Instagram and he didn’t know your name and neither did he see your picture in any tiny icon. 

He was almost going to give up when that girl posted an update. A picture from the regionals. And you were in the picture. Smiling so wide that your eyes closed and holding up the first place medal. The universe listened to his prayers. You were tagged in the picture. Jackpot!

He looked at your profile picture. Of course he was never going to find you, your picture was a cute bunny cartoon munching on a raspberry. Then he saw your name. He thought it was such a pretty name, suiting you perfectly. Your profile was not private so he spent the rest of the night looking at your pictures. That’s how he found out why you haven’t been attending the local competition in the last few years - you moved to a neighbouring city. Still in the same region, hence why you were at the regionals. You still attended the competitions in your city. And won every time. You were on a winning strike for sure! He wondered if you’re still as confident. Your posts were pictures from everywhere and everything you were doing. Dance practices, competitions, hanging out with friends, pretty sunsets and bunnies. 

He really wanted to follow you but he was scared. What if you would recognize him now? And think that it was rude he didn’t recognize you!

After a few minutes and not that many thoughts, he made a new account, hiding his name and followed you. 

He was so happy. Not only did he see you today. But he found your name. He was thinking that maybe, just maybe if he wins next year you’d recognise him and remember him. 

You didn’t. The next year at the regionals, you won again. And you didn’t recognise him. Again. He looked from afar. Again. 

After that year you also started to post pictures and videos from singing lessons. He guessed you were training now to be a singer as well. Your voice changed so much, from the tiny voice you had when you talked to him when you were 10 to your voice now at 16. You had a beautiful singing voice too. You were going to make a great artist.

The next year you didn’t show up at the regionals. That proved his theory you were probably a trainee now and didn’t have time to go to competitions anymore. 

He ended up winning. Once again you were not there to witness it.

But someone else was. They made him a proposition he couldn’t say no to. And that’s how he became a trainee as well.

Your last Instagram post was a picture of you with your eyes closed from smiling, captioned: “see you at my debut stage:)”.

You were going to debut.

At 18 you debuted in a trio with two other boys your age. Rhythm was your group's name. Very fitting, one could say. You all had great rhythm, were well synchronised, with powerful vocals, and energetic choreographies. You took the country by storm. The general public adored your group's music. The general public adored you. You and the boys. Your group was everywhere, interviews, radios, talk shows, music shows. And you were winning every time. As you once said.

You opened a new and official Instagram account and stopped posting on the old one. Wooyoung still followed your old one from his secret account. He started posting nature pictures with a tad bit of poetry in the captions. It was nothing too big, too deep, or too poetic. Just some of his thoughts that once in a while he felt the need to get out of his chest. He updated the profile picture to be his hand in a pinky promise stand. He thought it to be extremely fitting.

Wooyoung followed your every step, watching all the performances and interviews. He was so proud. He knew you’d be a star. You gave him courage and confidence once and you kept instilling it in him, in his trainee days and once he debuted as well. 

He debuted a few years later in an 8 members boy group - Ateez. They were gaining popularity fast, even though their music was in its own niche, with a unique concept. He was dying to be on the same stage as you. Maybe just maybe you’d recognise him. 

You never did.

“Y/N fucking mentioned us!” Hongjoong screamed entering the dance practice studio.

“Shut up!” San raised his eyebrows, his eyes almost bulging out of his sockets. He couldn’t believe it.

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped and he wasn’t able to close it yet.

Hongjoong held his phone up as proof. “Look!”

They all gathered around him, looking down at his phone. There you were, your smile too big for the small screen. It was a video from last night’s radio interview that Wooyoung didn’t have time to check yet. He couldn’t believe he didn’t see it first. He started smiling as soon as Hongjoong pressed play.

“So, Y/N, you always give amazing song recommendations. Any new music we should start listening to?” The radio host asked you.

You chuckled and Wooyoung was ecstatic waiting for your answer.

“I wouldn’t say new music, but these days I caught myself listening to Ateez a lot!”

The boys screamed. “OH MY GOD THAT’S US! IT’S US”

Wooyoung just kept smiling. That means you listened to him too. Maybe you even watched their music videos. Maybe even their performances. Maybe even..

“Ateez you say?” the host nudged you to continue, a little bit impressed as you usually wouldn’t recommend groups.

“Their songs really put me in a good mood, you know. And motivating. Also the lore behind their concept? It’s soooo good! I even caught myself watching fan theories and explanations so I can understand it, that’s how caught up I am,” you said laughing.

A general sound of gasping erupted in the room. Wooyoung was shocked. You definitely watched the music videos. He was more than curious to know what you were thinking of them.

“You know they are all very handsome, do you have a favourite between them?” such a sly question.

The room was silent, everyone expecting your answer. Wooyoung saw a tiny bit of blushing in your cheeks that went away in less than a millisecond. You were a pro at these interviews.

You licked your lips and answered, “You know I try to not show favouritism,” you giggled hiding your face, “but Hongjoong writes and produces a lot of their songs. I’d love to have a collaboration or something on a future song. I think it would turn out to be amazing!”

“Fuck.” Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

“No way!” Hongjoong exclaimed. “Did I hear right?”

“Bro,” Mingi patted his shoulder. “There’s no way. No way. She said your name. She wants to collaborate with you? For a song?”

“It’s nothing official though. It might never happen.” 

Hongjoong said, trying to stay calm, looking at Wooyoung, seeing how his shoulders deflated. Something he does when he’s on the verge of sulking. Hongjoong knew how much Wooyoung admired you. He never explicitly expressed it but it was obvious. He’d always listen to your group’s songs and your solo songs especially. He’d always smile fondly when you’d appear on TV, and he was always extra nervous when you would share the same stage. Wooyoung didn’t have to say anything, Hongjoong would notice. The same way he noticed now that your answer did bother him, more than either of them would expect.

What bothered Wooyoung even more was how a few weeks later you contacted their manager to go forward with a song collaboration. Your answer wasn’t just for the show. You really did want to collaborate with Hongjoong on a song.

Wooyoung was furious. But not with Hongjoong. he deserved the attention and this would be such an opportunity for him. He was furious with himself. Maybe if he went to you when you were 14 to say “hey, remember me?” he wouldn’t regret it so much. Like what even is he expecting now? For you to what? Name drop him in your interviews? He needed to get a grip.

“I don’t know, I feel like that part comes in too early, you know? Maybe we can add five beats before it to prolong the pre chorus just a bit?” you said scrunching your eyebrows.  

It was already your eighth time sitting in the studio with Hongjoong. You were surprised how well you two clicked. You didn’t lie in the interview when you said you were impressed by their songs. But you did always find it hard to work with new people. You were comfortable with your people, and the point of this new album was for you to get out of your comfort zone. That’s why you wanted to try something new. New sounds, new choreos, new videos. If all the collaborations were to go as smooth as with Hongjoong, the new album will be a piece of cake.

It was easy to talk with him and express your ideas. He was eager to listen and implement all your suggestions but was not afraid to implement bold decisions of his own either. You loved that.

“No, nevermind. It sounds weird as fuck. I don’t like it.” you sighed. “I’m sorry I know we changed this specific ten seconds a billion times today.”

“No sweat! That’s why we’re here. That’s why I’m here.”

There he is. Sweet Hongjoong. No matter how bitchy you are about the song he would help you fix it. 

“I’m sorry, I think I’m a bit in a slump today and that’s why I don’t like anything.”

“What’s bothering you today?” he asked while still looking at the screen.

You groaned loudly. “They are pressuring me to find a partner for the dance segment I want to perform for the end of the year awards.”

“Anyone on your mind?”

“Not one person,” you closed your eyes, leaning your head on the couch. “Anyone on yours?”

“Actually yes,” he said, turning in his chair.

At this you perked you head towards him. “Really? Who?”

“One of my team members. He’s fucking good.” Hongjoong smiled. 

“Hongjoong, you are the best thing that happened to me!” you beamed.

Hongjoong was so excited. He could finally make it up to Wooyoung. He avoided talking about his studio sessions with him around, although the others would pressure him A LOT. Asking him everything. He always kept everything brief. But many times it sounded like he had something to hide. Which he didn’t. He didn’t want to make Wooyoung upset, that was it. Hongjoong, like the others, would look at you as you were - their senior. With a lot of respect and admiration. But Wooyoung always looked at you with more, with pride and happiness. You definitely meant more for him than what he wanted to show. 

“Hey man,” Hongjoong entered Wooyoung’s room, finding him in bed on his phone, “great news!”

“What’s up?” Wooyoung asked, concentrating on his phone, playing a game.

“I might have booked you a dance segment at the end of the year award ceremony.”

“Cool.” Wooyoung said unimpressed, still focusing on his game. He trusted his leader’s decisions. If he told him he had to dance at the awards, he was going to dance.

“A dance segment with Y/N,” Hongjoong smiled. 

“What?” Wooyoung finally paused his game and looked at Hongjoong. “Absolutely not.” he shrugged as if it was the most expected answer.

“The fuck? Why not?” Hongjoong was flabbergasted. Why would he say no to such an opportunity?

“Our dancing styles don’t match,” he blinked. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly,” he said, returning to his game. His heart beating faster and faster. What the fuck is he doing?

“Well too late. It was already discussed and agreed between the higher ups. Everyone loved the idea.”

Wooyoung paused his game again. He was opening his mouth to protest but Hongjoong cut him off. “Y/N is waiting for you at 8 in the morning at her dance studio. I’ll share the location with you. Don’t be late!” and he left. Leaving behind a confused Wooyoung.

What just happened? 

He was going to see you. Talk with you. Dance with you. No. This was not supposed to happen. He convinced himself he had to see you from afar and that’s it. His heart was going crazy. How was he going to survive this?

He was late. Oh, so late. He couldn’t fall asleep last night. He was too nervous, too excited. He was thinking about you the whole night. He even looked at your old profile, something he didn’t do in a long time. And so he fell asleep. But it was too late because as he fell asleep, he had to wake up and so he slept through his alarm.

“I am so sorry!” he shouted the moment he barged through your dance studio.

You were on the floor, doing some warm up exercises. He was 47 minutes late! How disrespectful. You slowly got up while he hurriedly left his bag in a corner and ran to the middle of the room. He was gasping for air, definitely ran to get here. 

You stared up at him. He was a head taller than you but you were not going to feel smaller. You looked him up and down and went back to look in his eyes.

“What? Your coffee date with your girlfriend ended up later than you expected?” it was wrong for you to make assumptions and you knew it. But you were oh so angry! You hated hated people who were not keeping their promise.

Wooyoung choked on his words. He should’ve apologised. Said it won’t happen again. Instead he said: “I don’t have a girlfriend,” while keeping his eyes on yours.

“That’s your private life,” you blinked, “and I don’t care about it. I only care for you to be here on time. Dance. And leave. Hongjoong is a great guy, don’t disappoint him.”

Wooyoung raised his eyebrow. Indeed, Hongjoong is a great guy, but why would you say that? 

“Let’s not waste any more time and start,” you turned to reach for your tablet. 

Your dance was a beautiful choreography on a melodic hip-hop classic rendition. The choreographer did a fantastic job. You worked with him on previous projects and you really really wanted this number to be touched by his creative vision. 

The only downside… he was living in New Zealand. That never stopped you before. He used to send you videos of the choreographies and you’d send him videos of you dancing it and ask for feedback. It worked fantastic before and it will work fantastic now.

Or so you thought. The choreography was not too difficult. It was intricate with many details that you really loved focusing on. You used to learn the steps very fast, maybe in a couple of hours, but this time it turned out to be more intricate than you expected. 

The two of you spent more than half of your allocated time just analyzing it. Pressing the replay button over and over and over again. Changing the speed and trying to absorb everything to the smallest detail.

Both of you were extremely focused and everything seemed to go on the right path. You were confident this will turn out well even with the slightest hiccup in the morning.

You were wrong. 

The moment the two of you started to physically learn and count your steps, everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. 

Wooyoung’s body was not listening to him. He was too much in his head, nerves, guilt, stress, fear, of failure and disappointment, everything was just overwhelming him. He felt as if his body was separate from his mind. The two doing their own thing. And he was in the middle, trying to bring them together and failing miserably.

You, on the other hand, were frustrated. With yourself and with him. With his delay this morning that gave such a wrong impression on him. He is sloppy, careless and unreliable. That’s what you told yourself the whole morning while trying to watch the choreography video. It didn’t help that when you started actually dancing he was making such…stupid mistakes. Then you went completely spiraling. Why did Hongjoong recommend Wooyoung? It was obvious he had no idea what he was doing. Was he setting you to fail? Was that his plan? 

You literally had to slap yourself to stop thinking. Which startled Wooyoung from his self-destructive thoughts as well.

You grabbed your phone, quickly typed a message and resumed your practice in no time.

Around an hour later, your phone was blinking. A sign that you got a new message that was not silenced by your do not disturb status. That could only mean one person.

“Let’s take a break,” you said looking at your phone, “20..no 15 minutes should be more than enough.”

It was the first proper sentence, besides some counting, any of you spoke in hours. 

“Ok,” was all that he could say as you left the dance studio in seconds.

He didn’t know what to do. He would’ve liked to get some fresh air but he was not familiar with the building and had no idea how to get on the roof. He didn’t want to get lost or anything. He decided the best idea was to ask you next time.

He ended up just rewatching the dance video, mentally noting some moves. Then slowly practicing and watching himself in the mirror. He was doing great. Way better. As he usually was doing when learning a new dance. Why wasn’t he like this the whole morning?

15 minutes sharp later, you opened the door, stretching your back with your arms above your head. 

“Did you spend your whole break here dancing? Why didn’t you rest?” you stopped yourself, inhaling, then adding coldly. “You know what, it’s your time. You are responsible for it.” 

“I am really sorry I was late this morning.”

And so you continued your rest of the practice.

After Wooyoung returned to his dorm, took a shower, and laid in his bed, contemplating how miserable he felt right now, he thought there was no way you were not going to complain to Hongjoong about today. And he was going to return home and scold him so so much. And not in a good way.

He knew the best way to get over it was to dance. So, in his tiny room, he got up and continued practicing the steps. Tomorrow will be better.

It was not.

He was so tired from not sleeping the previous night and from a double dance practice yesterday. Of course he overslept.

He was late.

Only 10 minutes.

But he was late.

You were lowkey furious. Was he testing your patience? That must be it. Otherwise why would he be late on your second day of practice. After you already made such a big deal about it yesterday.

When Wooyoung opened the door, gasping for air and ready to apologise, you immediately cut him off.

“Don’t even. Let’s just start.”

Sloppy, careless and unreliable.

And so you continued your practice in the next few days. Wooyoung was dying inside. He disappointed you but you were so mean.

“Don’t you know how to raise your hand?”

“This is a six count not eight. Can you even count? ”

“Did you learn to dance yesterday?”

“People will start falling asleep.”

“Why are you like this?”

And so much worse.

Wooyoung would clench his jaw in anger and just swallow his words.

You were indeed mean. You knew that. You did have extremely mean dance teachers growing up. Which was very toxic and haunted you your whole life. Apparently it still did.

You did start making these comments out of pettiness because you were annoyed with him. But then you noticed he wasn’t replying back. In the beginning he would only apologise. Then you noticed how his jaw would clench, how his nostrils would flare, how he’d roll his eyes, how he would deeply sigh. He was getting annoyed. But, nevertheless, he was not making any mean comments back. You did want to get a reaction from him. See what he had to say.

Sloppy, careless and unreliable.

And spineless too?

Your phone blinked notifying you of a new message. And so you announced the 15 minutes daily break.

You left the practice room and went to the familiar dimly lit storage room.

The moment you closed the door behind you, you felt yourself being lifted up and placed on the drawer nearby.

Your lips immediately parted, sinking in the kiss. You loved Hajun’s kisses. They were always exactly what you needed when you were stressed and annoyed. Which was a lot these days.

He trailed kisses on your jaw and down on your neck, nibbling at the cusp between your neck and shoulder.

“How is your pretty boy today?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t wanna talk about him,” you rolled your eyes, unbuttoning his pants.

“But that’s your favourite topic these days,” he said, playing with the waistband of your sweatpants. “Almost like foreplay.” He yanked your pants down to your ankle in a swift movement, placing deep kisses on your lips.

He quickly put a condom on, aligned in front of your entrance, and pushed himself inside with no warning.

You gasped and bit your lips to keep quiet.

“He’s just..driving me..crazy,” you breathed. 

“So sloppy.” 

Thrust. 

“So careless.”

Thrust.

“So unreliable.”

Thrust.

“So spineless.”

“Spineless?” he groaned, increasing his pace. “That’s new. What did he do?”

You rolled your eyes in unison with your hips. “It’s what he didn't do. No matter what I say, he only gets annoyed but doesn’t talk back.”

He put his hand under your shirt, caressing your bare torso, moving up towards your chest.

“Sounds like you want someone to put you in your place.” he cupped your breast, pinching your nipple in between two fingers. “Am I not good enough for that, love?” 

You met Hajun a few months before your debut. He was training with you briefly, until he realised he is not cut for the entertainment industry. He was not sad or anything, rather happy. Studied to enter a good med school and never regretted his decision. The two of you became close friends. Venting each other’s frustration. Until one day, you both figured out the best way to vent. A kiss here, a kiss there, and then you were fucking on his couch. No strings attached and ready to break this deal whenever one of you was over it. 

You were stressed through the roof because of your upcoming album. He was stressed through the roof because of the exam season. All this stress combined and you were bound to see each other often. And fuck often.

“Oh, please,” you moaned in his mouth, “you never knew how to put me in my place.”

After a week of practice, you and Wooyoung filmed your dance and sent it to the choreographer for feedback. He immediately video called the two of you to deliver his response.

Which was a disaster.

He said your chemistry was lacking big time. No synergy whatsoever. And that you basically looked like amateurs. 

“Look guys,” he continued on the screen, “I'm not trying to discourage you. I’ve seen this happening a lot. With people that never danced together. Or never met before dancing.”

Wooyoung stole a glance towards you. Your face was expressionless, carefully listening to the choreographer's points. 

“In order to make my dancers have a more natural chemistry, I ask them to do a different dance. Don’t worry, it’s really short. I reckon in two weeks you’ll master it and can get back to your original dance. Just go with it and stop fighting it.”

Once the call ended you immediately got a message with the video of the new choreography you were told to do.

The video started with a sultry melody. As for the choreography? It was very sexually suggestive. Your original dance had a lot of touching and caressing, so it made sense why you needed perfect chemistry for it to not look weird. But this new one? It was something you never did before. A lot of floor steps that were very intimate. And oh so suggestive. How were you gonna pull this off?

Wooyoung was panicking. He didn’t touch you like this before. And he wasn’t sure he was gonna be able to without his hand trembling.

“Ok, let’s start I guess.”

You avoided looking in his eyes for the first time. You felt a blush creeping on your cheeks and fought against it. You were a professional. This is nothing.

That night Wooyoung looked through your Instagram page. He didn’t get it. You used to be such a nice and sweet girl. And you still were as sweet. Just not with him. 

He wanted to check the comments of your last before debut picture (very stalkerish) when he finally did it. Instead of pressing the comment button, he pressed the heart.

“No, no, no”

He got up in panic and did the best thing he thought of doing. Revoked the heart. It’s only been a few seconds. The notifications for sure didn’t come through. Right? And even if it did, what are the chances you are still active on that account? Right?

You were. 

You loved scrolling on your old account. You barely interacted with anyone on it and that’s why the notification startled you. 

It was from a photography and poetry account. You never even noticed when this account followed you. 

The latest post was a picture of the sky through a cracked window from two days ago with the caption ‘your words are grazing my heart like broken glass does to my skin.’

You liked it in a heartbeat, then followed the account.

Wooyoung’s phone vibrated in his hand. He got the notification of you following his secret page from your old account.

“Shit.”

The new choreography had some tough moves. In which both of you needed to rely on your own strength but also on each others’. 

One of these steps was requiring you to be on your knees on the floor. Wooyoung to slide on his back through your legs. Grabbing your thighs and lifting you and himself, while carrying you on his shoulders, and then dropping you to his arms. 

It was definitely an uncomfortable move that you had to practice a lot. It was risky too. And it wasn’t even the worst. 

And so you did. With every touch and caress from Wooyoung burning above your skin.

The same way every snarky comment from your side burned in his mind.

Of course you couldn’t help yourself. You would get even more critical and sarcastic the more you would feel threatened. And heated. 

After you went on your break, Wooyoung decided he desperately needed air to cool down. Jesus it was only the first day you were trying the new dance and it was killing him. How could he help himself when his skin tasted yours like that. 

He listened to your directions about going on the terrace you once gave him. Your building was huge and he couldn’t believe the whole floor was for you and your group. He turned left and left again. He heard a loud thump right before turning right on the tiny hallway. A faint sound continued to be heard. He approached the door, wanting to make sure nothing wrong happened.

His hand stopped on the door handle when he heard an almost imperceptible moan. The moaning continued in unison with the faint thumping. Mystery solved. And his cue to get back to his objective.

Much needed air. He didn’t need to know people were having sex when he was barely trying to stop a boner himself.

Cold air was blowing over him on the small balcony terrace that was as secluded as you mentioned.

Wooyoung stayed there for what felt like just a minute or so, when another man also joined him on the balcony. 

They only glanced at each other to acknowledge each other’s presence. Men. The other man took out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. Puffing slowly.

“I know it’s a myth but cigarettes after sex are still the best.”

Wow too much information, much?

At least Wooyoung knew that this guy was one of the people in the storage room. Not that he wanted to know that.

“So you’re the pretty boy, huh?”

“No?”

What was wrong with this guy?

“Look, there are only two people that ever come on this balcony and I sure as hell didn’t tell you about it.”

The realisation hit Wooyoung like a brick.

“Isn’t your break over?”

That motherfucker.

Wooyoung left Hajun before he could wipe his smug smirk with a punch.

Not that he could be mad that you were having sex. You were a consenting adult woman. But while on the clock? While training and practicing? How was that professional?

When he returned to the dance room you immediately rolled your eyes. The break was already over for a couple of minutes.

“Seriously what is your deal? You want to test my patience or what? Can’t you be on time once? This is so unbelievably unprofessional! We agreed to 15 minutes!”

“Seems that 15 minutes wasn’t enough for either of us,” he said barely a whisper trying to stay calm.

What did he just say? You were flabbergasted. Is he starting to finally talk back? What a horrible moment for that. And what even was that comment?

You decided to ignore it and just continue your practice from where it was left of.

Both of you were unprofessional. And both of you were blaming each other for it. You were blaming him for being such a pain in the ass and making you so frustrated, you couldn’t help but reach for Hajun. He was blaming you for being so mean and making him so nervous that he couldn’t function properly.

With every dance move, every touch he was exploding like fireworks. His shirt and sweatpants felt like paper. He was feeling every trail of your fingers on him as if you were following a gasoline path and igniting flames that were burning and consuming his being.

He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

Just a tiny little boner.

Fuck.

He couldn’t ask for a break now. You were already pissed and he was sure you’d kill him (metaphorically or not) for daring to request to stop the practice so soon.

You were on fire too. Although making many mistakes, Wooyoung’s touch was so caressing every time. So soft. That you barely felt his contact through your shirt and sweatpants. As if feathers would gently kiss your skin, too afraid you may break.

You needed more.

He was laying down on his back. You were on top of him, trying to dance a new move that looked awfully much like dry humping him.

You are fine. Why are you so horny again? 

You are a professional. Which is why you continue rolling your hips. 

Dry humping is nothing. It’s driving you crazy. 

Not even when you feel him getting harder under you. You don’t want to stop. 

You are fine! You need to stop.

“Are you ok?” you ask.

“Huh?”

“You seem to have a small problem.” it was feeling anything but small. “Down there,” you deadpanned.

Wooyoung was mortified. How, why, and when. He was making sure he was subtly arranging himself in between moves when you were not looking.

You lowered yourself on your elbows, getting closer to his face, and staring into his eyes. 

Wooyoung immediately blushed, frozen in place. You could almost chuckle at his reaction. But you had to keep the appearances.

“Don’t worry, it’s a normal bodily reaction,” you whispered close enough for your noses to almost touch, “not many can resist.” you smirked.

You fucking smirked.

Wooyoung was so turned on he was certain he would’ve cummed in his pants if you wouldn’t have gotten off him and suggested to continue with a different move.

He was so embarrassed though. Not only he still had to deal with his boner. You were aware of it. And he was painfully aware you were. 

You were on your knees. For the move when he slides in between your legs. Until now, the easiest move and the least promiscuous. 

However, when he slid in between your legs this time, his head got stuck in your baggy sweatpants.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Jesus fucking christ. You are mocking him again.

“So sorry. I think for this move i should take off the big pants. Don’t worry, I wear short leggings underneath.” you said winking.

Fucking winking. How much were you going to embarrass him today?

Your short gray leggings, more specifically booty short leggings, were thin and more or less you were wearing them as underwear. But Wooyoung didn’t need to know. It was your turn to mentally blush.

You were back on your knees and Wooyoung slid with no issues on the floor this time. Booty short leggings for the win!

“Wait, I want to check what I need to do with my left hand. I don’t want you fucking drop me.”

You bent over reaching for your tablet.

He could swear you were doing this on purpose. I mean how could you not, your crotch was not even 10 centimeters from his face. He was doing god’s work trying no to look. But he couldn’t help but notice the damp spot in between your legs. Which looked so goddamn delicious.

“Are you ok?” Wooyoung asked to which you didn’t pay much attention. “You seem to have a small problem.”

“What?” you asked, straightening yourself and looking down at him between your legs.

“Don’t worry, it’s a normal bodily reaction,” he whispered sultrily, getting closer to your core, “not many can resist.” He fucking smirked, making eye contact and immediately dragging his mouth over your damp spot. Payback time.

You stopped a gasp with your hand over your mouth.

Wooyoung continued licking your spot while maintaining eye contact. The look in his eyes being so different now, from the sloppy, careless, unreliable, spineless person from earlier.

You couldn’t believe you got so wet earlier. That he got you so wet. You admit he made you very aroused with that small dry humping session but that aroused? That you started to leak through your leggings? This will be the last time you don’t wear underwear!

With each lick you were getting wetter and wetter, and your leggings soaked with your arousal and his saliva, until the leggings became paper thin and you were feeling every flick of tongue.

Wooyoung was circling around your clit with lewd slurping sounds. 

The movement was making you crazy enough that you started gyrating over his tongue, making you want to moan. But you muffled the sounds with your hand over your mouth.

He was feeling so good.

Wooyoung grabbed your thighs, pulling them apart, which made you lower yourself on him even more. 

You could barely stand straight.

You were eaten out before, with no clothed barrier whatsoever. But like this, with your thin leggings sticking to your sensitive parts, soaking up your arousal and his saliva, with his tongue pushing harder and harder to make up for it? There was something about it that felt more sensual than any other oral session you received.

Wooyoung was enjoying this as much, if not even more, than you. Savouring every lick, every slurp, every drop. As if drinking sweet mead from the gods themselves. You were tasting as sweet as he ever dreamed. Not that he had dirty dreams about you. Or at least not that often. How could he not though? You were on his mind every day. And then you started to show the sexier version of you with the newer comebacks. And then he heard you moan on another dude’s dick in a storage room. How could he resist without imagining anything? With knowing how sweet you can sound. He wanted to hear you sound like that. Your sounds to be the anthem of his life. If only you could take that goddamn hand from your mouth and moan freely. 

You felt the familiar knot in your lower belly and clenched on nothing. You grabbed Wooyoung’s hair with your free hand to steady yourself. He gasped from the sudden pull of his hair. He didn’t expect it. You didn’t expect him to make such a delicious sound either. You wanted to hear more.

You continued rolling your hips with more confidence now, chasing your high. So close, so close. 

And then you exploded, feeling fireworks going off. You collapsed on your back on top of Wooyoung, gasping for air. What just happened?

Wooyoung swiftly got up and lowered himself on top of you. He was looking so hot with his face glistening from his sweat, saliva, and your arousal dripping on his chin. He licked his lips while watching you with dark eyes.

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips and tongue. Which just made you cum. 

“If you needed help, all you had to do was ask,” he grinned, a big shit-eating grin. The asshole.

You blushed the whole way home. You blushed the whole getting ready for bed routine. You blushed the whole time trying to fall asleep. You blushed the whole time scrolling on your phone trying to fall asleep. You blushed when you got a notification that your favourite poetry account just posted. You blushed looking at the picture - a steamed shower glass with a finger drawn heart. You blushed reading the caption - ‘your taste is the poison that kills me; your sounds are the hymn that bring me back to life.’ The universe was laughing in your face. part 2 | © 2024 gemini-stories All Rights Reserved.

[tomssexdoll]

can you do 2010tom x reader fic where they’re having twins<3

yess!

Mini me's

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader CONTENT: FLUFF SYPNOSIS: Y/N and Tom are having twins, it's time for her to give birth and she delivers 2 healthy babies, one boy and one girl. Tom is brought to tears seeing your beautiful babies. A/N: i cried while making this WARNINGS: details of giving birth

The day had finally come, 9 dreadfull months of being pregnant. I am being quite dramatic, being pregnant was so fun until the third trimester. The twins were so active when I was nearing my due date, kicking around and making me so nauseous.

I sat in the hospital bed, my water broke 10 hours ago and I was waiting to be fully dialated to give birth. Tom rushed in the doors, chest heaving up and down as he ran to my side, holding my hand.

"Sorry I was late baby..I had to get everything from the house that you needed" I chuckled "you were only 5 minutes late baby don't stress, I haven't even started pushing" he sighed and sat in the hospital chair next to the bed, relieved he didn't miss the birth of his children.

"I can't believe we're having kids at 21, I thought we'd be saving it until we were 30" I sighed, rubbing my huge belly. "Well we both love kids and couldn't wait I guess" he chuckled, rubbing my hand with his thumb softly.

Suddenly I started to feel more contractions and knew I was probably going to give birth any second now, "fuck! Tom get the nurse!" I winced, holding my belly and closing my eyes shut, taking deep breaths to try distract myself from the pain.

Tom shot up instantly and called out for a nurse, 3 of them came in and calmed me down, preparing me for the birth. Tom rushed by my side again and held my hand, whispering sweet nothings into me ear, "it's ok baby..you're doing great" he smiled, kissing my sweat drenched forehead.

I started to push, the pain stabbing into my lower abdomen. "Ahh!" I screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks as I did another big push, "good girl schatz, keep going" Tom called out, I cried out, a few more big pushes made one of the babies heads pop out.

"So close honey! Keep pushing!" the nurse said, grabbing onto the babies head and pulling it out softly. The first baby came out and I was so tired, not being able to open my eyes properly. They took her to wash and treat her, check if she had any abnormalities.

The second babies head popped out a few minutes later, I started pushing again, my body weak and tired. "Cmon, just one more big push honey!" the nurse reassured me, pulling the baby out and cleaning him as well.

I layed back and panted, trying to catch my breath. Tom kissed the top of my head gently, "you did so well, I'm so proud" the nurse came around with the babies and pulled my nightgown down, revealing my chest and placing them on top.

I smiled down at them, tears streaming down my cheeks, "they are beautiful..oh my god" Tom choked out a sob, tears falling down his cheeks too.

Once the babies settled and finished crying I breastfed them, giggling at how tired they looked. "They are so adorable, they have your eyes" he smiled, pulling out clothes we had packed for them.

We got them changed and into the carriers, Tom softly rocking them so I could sleep. I fell asleep for a few hours, needing to rest desperately after everything that happened.

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomscumdump @tomscumdoll @tomkaulitzloverr @ge-billsgf @syylss @bkaulitzlover @estxkios @ballhair @charliesgoodboy

[finnsbubblegum]

I’m Sorry (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: car accident, miscarriages (let me know if i missed any)

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah. 

Words count: 1.7k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 15 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm so grateful for all of you! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and likes ❤️ There are still more chapters for this series so stay tuned! Love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Epilogue

“Should we go to my parents house this weekend and tell them?” You were sitting on the exam bed while waiting for the doctor to print your sonogram picture.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Joel nodded.

“Sorry it took so long. Here, I printed five for you. And don’t forget to get the vitamins at the pharmacy before you leave.” The doctor passed you the sonogram pictures and a prescription.

“Thank you, doc.” You and Joel thanked her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you on our next appointment.” She smiled.

“Do you want to wait here and sit while I get this?” Joel raised the prescription. 

“I’ll come with you.” You linked your arms to Joel’s.

“Hi, Joel.” A familiar woman and man stopped in front of the two of you.

Joel sighed. He didn’t expect to meet his ex-wife and her boyfriend again. At the obgyn in all of the places? 

“Hi.” You greeted them with a forced smile.

“Congratulations to both of you.” She pointed at the sonogram picture in Joel’s hand.

“Thank you.” You looked at her while you rubbed Joel’s arms.

“Congratulations to you too.” You pointed your eyes to her protruding belly.

Joel’s ex-wife was pregnant with her current boyfriend. She was bigger than you so it was obvious.

“I hope you’ll be a good mom this time.” Joel sarcastically said to his ex-wife. 

Even though it had been a few years, he was still hurt by her and he still hated her. He could never forgive her for what she had done. She failed her daughter but why did God give her a second chance to be a mother? He wondered. Life was not fair.

“It’s okay.” She grabbed her boyfriend's wrist as he stepped forward to Joel almost starting a fight.

“I will, Joel. I’m sorry. I hope to see Sarah sometime.” She brought up Sarah.

Joel groaned and rolled his eyes. You rubbed his arms with your thumb to calm him.

“Sure, we can set a time.” You smiled at her.

Joel turned his head to you and widened his eyes. He wanted to make his ex wife suffer by not allowing her to meet her daughter. 

“Thank you, (y/n). I hope you and your baby are healthy.” She put her hands on your upper arm.

“You too.” You smiled and parted ways.

In the car

“You okay, there?” You asked Joel as he was quiet since your meeting with his ex-wife.

He stayed quiet, not answering you.

“Joel, baby?” You called him.

He only hummed and looked straight while driving.

“I get it. You’re mad at me.” You nodded, holding the seatbelt on your chest.

“Yes, I’m mad at you. What the fuck was that?!” He raised his voice.

You trembled. Hands gripping your seatbelt tighter.

“You’ll let her see Sarah?!” He hit the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry. I just thought-I’m pregnant now and I know how a mother is connected to her baby. She grew Sarah inside her for 9 months, Joel.” You started sobbing.

“Don’t you dare cry now.” Joel growled.

“Joel, please. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“Fine, I’ll call her and tell her she can’t see Sarah anymore. If that’s what you want.” You took out your phone.

“Don’t.” Joel started driving faster.

“What do I do? What do you want me to do?” You sobbed.

Joel cleared his throat and didn’t answer you.

“Joel! Slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!” You screamed.

He kept on pressing the gas pedal and speeding up.

“Joel! Please! Stop the car! Stop it!” You cried as you screamed.

Joel hit the brake suddenly as he saw the red light. You panted as the car stopped so suddenly. Then the light turned green and Joel pressed on the gas pedal again.

"Baby, I'm sor-" Joel didn't finish his sentence. 

*car crash*

A speeding car suddenly crashed from the left side. Joel’s reflex tried his best to turn the car avoiding the crash but the car turned in circles. You screamed as the car turned. Your hand instinctively wrapped around your belly protecting your baby inside your belly. You hit your head as the car crashed. You and Joel blacked out for a moment. 

“Baby..” Joel opened his eyes and groaned at the pain. 

Joel turned his head to you but you were unconscious. He panicked and hurriedly took off his seatbelt. He was shaking.

“Baby, can you hear me?” His bloody hands cupped your cheeks.

“Baby, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, baby, please.” Joel tapped your cheeks with his palms and sobbed.

Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. You blinked your eyes a few times as you heard his voice. All you could see was him, blood and pieces of glass everywhere.

“Where are you hurt?” Joel looked up and down to your body.

“J-joel..” You called his name.

“Baby, you hurt? Tell me.” He cupped your cheeks.

“Wait here. I’ll get you out.” Joel immediately got out of the car and ran to your side. 

He was in pain but he ignored it. Your safety was his priority. You were more important than him. 

“Come here, put your arms around me. I got you, baby. I got you.” Joel put his arms around you to help you out ignoring his pain.

“J-joel. I’m in pain.” You shakily put your hand on your abdomen and squeezed it.

“I know, I know. I need to get you out first. Come on.” Joel tried to lift you.

“Joel, the baby.. I can’t lose the baby.” You cried as you felt warm liquid flowing to your thigh.

“Shit.” Joel looked down to your skirt and saw blood.

“Joel..” You cried looking through his eyes.

“Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me. Don’t look down.” He tried not to panic so you didn’t panic.

“Joel, everything hurts..” You cried on his shoulder as he dragged you out of the car. 

“Somebody call the ambulance!” Joel shouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” Joel cradled your head as he laid you on the ground.

Thankfully, a stranger called an ambulance and they came right away. The paramedic laid you on the wheeled stretcher and Joel’s heart broke. He blamed himself. He didn’t know what he should do. He followed you inside the ambulance and held your hand throughout the way to the hospital. You squeezed his hand in pain and he brought your hand to his lips.

“Please help my wife. She’s pregnant.” Joel begged the nurse as she brought you inside.

“Sir, you need to get treated too.” The nurse invited him to the examination bed to get treated.

Joel’s head was bleeding. His bones probably dislocated or fractured but he didn’t care. His focus was only you. He felt extremely guilty and his chest hurt. 

“Sir, we’re sending your wife to the operating room. It’s best if you get treated while you wait.” The nurse repeated again.

“Save her, please.” Joel sobbed. 

“We’ll try our best.” The nurse smiled.

Then Joel followed the nurse and got treated. He called Tommy to watch Sarah for a while but he told him not to tell Sarah what happened. Then he waited for a few hours and shook his legs in anxiety. Joel stood up right away when you were brought out from the operating room.

“How is she?” Joel asked the doctor with his casted arm.

“Sir, I’m so sorry for your loss. We couldn’t save your baby. And your wife needs a lot of rest. We need you to stay strong for her.” The doctor felt bad for telling Joel such bad news.

Joel cried as he looked at your weak body laying on the hospital bed. The nurses pushed your bed to your room while Joel followed beside you. Joel stayed beside you all the time when you were still sleeping because of the drugs.  He slept resting his head on the bed beside you, holding your hand, never letting you go. In his mind, he kept thinking how he would tell you when you regain your consciousness.

“Joel?” You whispered as you opened your eyes a little.

Joel raised his head right away when he heard you call his name.

“Hey, I’m here, baby. I’m here.” Joel stroked your head.

“Where am I?” You tried to remember what happened and your head hurts.

“You’re in the hospital. We got into a car accident.” He explained the main points.

“My head hurts.” You put your hand on your head then your stomach.

“Joel- The baby. Please, tell me it’s okay.” You started panting as you panicked.

“Baby-I-” Joel couldn’t find his words.

“Joel-please-” You sobbed.

“I-I’m sorry.” He cried.

“Joel! No! Please!” You cried gripping his shirt.

“I’m sorry, baby. It was my fault. I’m sorry.” He cried and buried your head to his chest hugging you tight.

You cried so loud. Your tears wet his shirt. You didn’t expect this would happen. 

“Bring him back! Bring him back, please!” You screamed and tried to get out of the bed looking for the doctors.

You used him for your unborn child because you could feel it would be a boy. But now he’s gone. Your baby boy was gone. Your heart was shredded into pieces at the fact you couldn’t protect your baby.

“Baby, you need to lay down. You need rest.” Joel held you from standing up.

“Don’t touch me!” You threw his hand away from you.

“It’s all your fault! None of this would happen if you didn’t speed up!” You yelled at him. Tears falling down your cheeks.

“I hate you! I hate you! And I hate myself!” You took off the IV needle that was inserted on the back of your hand and stood up.

The nurses came inside as you tried to leave the room. They held you and put you back to your bed. Your heart rate was rising and they decided to give you sedatives to calm you down. Joel cried as he saw you like that. He was guilt-ridden and helpless. He never wanted to hurt you and now you hate him. 

To be continued…

A/N: I wasn’t planning about this but when I was writing for this chapter my hands kept typing it this way. I don’t know if you like it but I hope you like it!! ❤️

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @padgraysonssram8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr @avengersfan25 @xixxala @dianaffddz @onzayhe @violetwitchmcu @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @kelh27

[callsign-muffin]

Heal Together: Chapter 10 (Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw fic)

So I guess I can write it on here now that it's official. I had to break up with my boyfriend of 3 years last week. It was a painful but necessary decision. It's why I've been... not around for the past couple months. Nothing drains you more than a toxic relationship.

Masterlist + Playlist

Word Count: 1.8k+

“You wanna catch a baby today?” Deb, the sweet yet fierce nurse that you were shadowing asked you. She was probably in her 50s and had definitely been doing this job for almost as long as you’d been alive.

You sputtered, “Wait, what?” 

She laughed, getting a kick out of your confusion, “You’re gonna be the one to put this baby on Mom’s chest when it comes out.” She said, “There’s no better feeling.”

“But… I don’t know what to do…” You could feel your pulse bounding in your neck.

“You’re gonna do everything I tell you to do.” She smiled, “And you’ll be great.”

“Take a big deep breath and push… 1,2, 3, 4…” Deb expertly coached the patient for the past half hour and the baby’s head was just about crowning.

You hadn’t seen a birth since you were in school. You held one of the patient’s legs in position and counted along with Deb. This was better than you remembered it.

“Y/N, hit the call bell and tell the team we have a delivery.” Deb instructed you.

You did exactly as you were told, “Delivery in room 8!”

“You ready to have a birthday party?” Deb asked the patient sweetly.

She nodded, tears filling her eyes, “As ready as I’ll ever be!”

Next thing you knew, a team of people entered and started working like a well oiled machine. You helped Deb set up the bed, the doctors put on gowns and gloves, and the charge nurse swept through the room doing safety checks.

“Looks like we only need another big push or two!” The doctor said, “you ready to become a mom for the second time?”

Still crying tears of joy, the patient nodded, took a big deep breath and put on her game face.

You laid a blanket for the baby in the mom’s chest, “You’ve got this, Mama!”

With her husband holding one leg and you holding the other, a baby girl emerged in two big pushes.

Deb stood behind you like a guardian angel on your shoulder, “Lift baby and put her on the blanket  Mom’s chest. Don’t worry, she’s not made of glass.”

You did exactly that and your chest felt tight because the baby was whining a little and not giving those big cries.

“Dry off baby with the blanket to stimulate those big cries.” Deb said calmly.

You did exactly as you were told and within a second or two, the baby let out strong beautiful screams.

“Happy Birthday!” You said in a sing-song voice.

Deb passed you a stethoscope, “Listen to the lungs. How do they sound?”

You quickly put the stethoscope in your ears and placed the bell in baby’s back, “All clear.” 

“Well done,” Deb said, cover baby with a dry blanket so Mama can enjoy some snuggles.”

The patient looked up at you, “Thank you guys so much.”

“Yes, thank you for everything.” Her tearful husband added, “You all were incredible.”

For the first time in a long time, this feeling of warmth came over you. Something you're not sure you’ve felt in your nursing career before. 

“You did beautifully in there, dear.” Deb gave you a firm squeeze on the shoulder back at the nurse’s station.

You gasped, “Really?! I was freaking out!”

She chuckled, “You looked cool as a cucumber to me, must be all that time in the ICU.”

You shrugged, “This was definitely better than a shift at the ICU, I’ll tell ya that much.”

“The good days are great on this unit.” she said, “the bad days, they are the absolute worst. I know you know that feeling.”

You nodded, “All too well. Unfortunately, the bad days outnumber the good where I am.”

“I have a feeling you won’t have to stay there much longer.” She winked at you and went back to her charting.

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

Y/N: I helped deliver a baby today

Bradley: No way!!! I want to hear everything!

Y/N: Come over, I’m on my way home.

Bradley: Say fucking less, sweetheart

Y/N: I just have to shower, I got baby goo on me

Bradley: Hot.

Bradley knocked on Y/N’s apartment door, he could hear the faint sound of the shower running.

“It’s open!” Her voice called out. 

Bradley entered to find Y/N walking towards her bathroom in nothing but a towel.

“Excuse me, Miss!” He scoffed, “You better walk that sexy ass back over here and gimme a kiss.”

Y/N didn’t turn around but just backed up until she bumped into his chest.

He weaved his arms around her waist, giving her a tight squeeze, and leaving loud smooches on her cheek.

“Bradley,” She tried to wiggle away, “be careful, I have nasty hospital germs all over me!”

“Don’t tell me how I can love my girl” he grumbled into her shoulder.

She immediately turned around to face him with a raised eyebrow, “Your girl, huh? This is the first I’m hearing of this, Bradshaw!”

His ears went red, “Well… I mean… I think that you and I…”

She winked and wiggled out of his arms, “I’m gonna go shower while you gather your thoughts… or you could get in with me…”

Bradley stripped off his shirt, “Ya don’t have to tell me twice!”

“And then she emerged… wrinkly, kinda purple, and wet. And yet she was… absolutely beautiful.” Y/N sighed, recounting the events of your day on the couch with Bradley, your legs draped over his lap.

He couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, he had never heard her speak about something hospital related with this much joy. 

She paused for a moment when she noticed his face, “What? Is all this weird? I’m sorry if it’s weird?”

“No, sweetheart. It’s not weird at all. There’s nothing better to me than to see you so excited.” He explained, still wearing that cheesy grin.

Y/N climbed into his lap, “You want to see me get even more excited?”

He scoffed playfully, “Obviously.”

“Tell me more about how I’m your girl.” She proposed. 

“Well,” He snuggled her closer to him, “Well, I just think— no, I just feel… that I love hanging out with you so much and loving on you so much, that I want to be the only one.”

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, “Oh Bradshaw, you’ve been the only one.”

He kissed the crown of your head and let out a sigh of relief, “Thank fucking God, you’ve been the only one too.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she rolled her eyes, “I’ve seen the way women gawk at you at the Hard Deck.”

“I think you’re mixing me up with Hangman.” He chuckled.

“You’re literally built like a Greek god! Any woman would want to climb you like a tree!” She cried out then paused and blushed, realizing how weird what she just said was.

Rooster let out a sputter of laughter, “I’m sorry… I’ve just never heard the euphemism before.”

Y/N groaned and covered your face with embarrassment, “Don’t look at me.”

He kissed the side of her head as he pulled her even closer to him, and mumbled with his lips still against her soft skin, “The only one allowed to climb this tree is you, Sweetheart.”

Still embarrassed, she kept her hands over her face.

“Like a sexy little squirrel, or a koala, or…” he paused to think for a moment to think, “… a spider monkey!”

Y/N removed her hands from her face to give Bradley a confused look, “… what the fuck? Are spider monkeys even real animals?”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re the only one climbing all up on this wood, baby girl.” He did a little shimmy.

“That’s it! You’re done!” Y/N attempted to get up from his lap but Bradley quickly wrapped his strong arms around her body, pulling her close.

He repeatedly kissed her cheek and spoke between each one as she giggled, “You’re. Staying. Right. Here. Sweetheart.”

█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █

“Hey Y/N,” Becca, the break nurse, greeted you, “It’s your turn to go on break. I’ll cover your patients.”

Break nurses. What an incredible concept. You wished all states would require them in their hospitals like California does. The culture of nursing in California has honestly been what’s made this assignment in a patriarchal military hospital worth it. If you were dealing with all the cultural bullshit and poor work conditions, there’s no way you would've been able to function like a normal human being. 

You didn’t have to be told twice to scaddle off of that unit. Parks, the intern resident, was driving you crazy, breathing down your neck. And the attending that was on wasn’t doing anything to stop it. 

“Two more weeks.” You mumbled to yourself as you walked out the automatic door of the unit, with your lunch box in hand, and towards the coffee shop. You grabbed yourself a mediocre latte and headed out to your favorite courtyard to get some fresh air. As you sat down at a picnic table, you let out a big sigh of relief, feeling your nervous system relax for the first time since you clocked in. You pulled out your phone, checking texts from your mom, your best friend from college, and Bradley. Then you opened your email to find an email from Scripps:

Good Morning Y/N,

Thank you so much again for coming on Labor & Delivery for a shadow shift this week. We would like to offer you a position on our unit—

Before you could read any further, you choked on your own spit. Was this real?! You read the first line again and continued until the end of the email. This was real. By this time next month, you could be starting a new job as a labor and delivery nurse. Yes, you’d be making significantly less than you do as a traveler… however… you would get to feel that feeling again. The feeling of placing a newborn on their mama’s chest for the first time. Who to call first?! Your mom? Bradley? You opted for your mother who didn’t answer, of course. Since becoming empty nesters, your parents lived carefree lives of travel and leisure. They never had their phones on them and if they did, there was a 50/50 chance of them being charged. So you opted for the next best person, Bradley. But again, after many rings, you got a voicemail. It was hard to ignore the disappointment burning in your chest.

“Hey Bradley, I know you’re probably busy at work or flying in the clouds somewhere but… call me when you can, preferably after 7:30 since I’m at work and can’t talk on the floor. Umm, bye.” You hung up the phone and signed. You knew it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t answer, he was at work. Like you, he has a very busy hands on job that deals with sensitive information. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t be just a little bit disappointed.

Tag list:

@sarah-bear706318

@dizzybee03

@that-gay-person-27

@alwayshave-faith

@caitsymichelle13

@thespillingvoid

@shanimallina87

[sequinsmile-x]

Loquacious

/lo·​qua·​cious./ adjective: tending to talk a great deal; talkative.

Whatever the dentist had given Aaron had apparently made her usually stoic, quiet, husband the chattiest man on the planet. 

-x-

Hi friends!

Some silly, fluffy, and hopefully funny nonsense for you on this Wednesday evening. I'm gifting this to the lovely @em-prentiss because our Hotchniss brain powers somehow connected and encouraged us to both write Aaron high af at the same time haha

I really hope you like this, please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of dentists/dental work

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She feels nauseous. 

It swirls in her gut, forcing her to press her fingers against her lips to stop her from retching, worried she’d throw up right here in the dentist’s waiting room if she didn’t. She was almost used to the nausea itself, it had been weeks of it now. Everything seemed to trigger it, making her stomach flip and twist as she tried to breathe through it. She was always oddly proud of herself for pushing through when she could, her other palm pressed against her still flat belly as she tries to ignore the scent of antiseptic in the air that had set her off the moment they’d walked into the dentist’s office. 

“Mrs Hotchner?” 

She looks up from where her gaze had firmly been fixed on the ground and she frowns when she sees the small cup of water being held out to her. The knowing look on the receptionist's face only deepens her confusion as she takes the drink from her. 

“You were starting to look at little green,” the receptionist says, uncurling her fist and dropping a couple of individually wrapped mints into Emily’s other hand, “I was the same way when I had my first,” she says, winking, “The mints help.” 

No one other than Aaron and Emily’s OBGYN knew she was pregnant. They hadn’t been trying all that long yet, only a few months had passed since she’d stopped taking her birth control, and she’d been nothing short of overjoyed when the first pregnancy test she took came back positive. Everything else in her life had been so hard to get, so fiercely fought for, that she thought this would be the same. Another thing for her and Aaron to survive together as they tried to grow their family. 

She was 10 weeks along and pregnancy was kicking her ass. She was exhausted all the time. Emotional. Nauseous. And her boobs hurt so much she felt like she could cry. She was surprised no one on the team had figured it out yet, that they hadn’t realised that over the last few weeks, she hadn’t been to any crime scenes, not when the smell of one almost made her throw up, and that she was largely just doing victimology. 

She knew that they’d have to tell everyone soon, and she was excited to share it with the people she loved, but she would miss this just being something between her and Aaron. A secret they shared in the privacy they so rarely had - his hand pressed against her stomach as they talked about everything their baby would and could be.

Emily stutters on a laugh and shakes her head, “How did you…”

The receptionist smiles kindly, “When you know you now,” she says, standing up straight again, “Your husband is all done, so when you’re ready you can go back and get him.” 

Emily sighs in relief and nods gratefully. He’d only had two teeth removed, a hit from an unsub distributing previous dental work to the point where they couldn’t be salvaged, but she’d been worried. She knew it was a simple procedure, that she’d seen him go through worse. She’d sat by and watched him recover from things most people couldn’t even imagine and she’d done since long before they were together. It didn’t make it any easier - and the hour she’d sat in the waiting room with nothing to keep her busy except the rolling nausea in her stomach and the sound of drills from the procedure rooms had been some of the longest of her life. 

She drinks the water, only sipping half of it so she doesn’t get carried away and make herself sick, and pops one of the mints into her mouth before she heads to where the receptionist had directed her, excited to see her husband. 

She hears him talking before she even enters the room, his voice muffled by the wooden door. As she enters the room, her eyes wide as she looks at her husband. The left-hand side of his face was swollen and numb. The grin he was throwing her, one she could only describe as goofy was lopsided, and his eyes were dazed. 

“Hi honey,” she says, walking over and sitting next to him, relief vibrating in her chest when he squeezes her hand back, “How are you feeling?” 

“Mouth hurts,” he replies, his words slurred ever so slightly, a lisp chasing every syllable as his tongue tries to figure out what the hell is going on. He turns to look at the nurse and points at Emily, “Didn’t I tell you she was pretty?” 

The nurse suppresses a smile, her lips pressed together as she talks over him, clearly aware that he simply wasn’t going to stop talking just because she’d started. 

“Yes, Aaron you did,” she says, turning her attention to Emily, “He’s been talking about you a lot, Dr Harris actually had to ask him to stop so he could extract the tooth.”

It was far from the first time she’d ever seen him on painkillers. They usually just made him sleepy, and more than once he’d fallen asleep with his head on her shoulder on the jet home when he’d been hurt on a case. This, she was quickly realising, was different. 

Whatever the dentist had given Aaron had apparently made her usually stoic, quiet, husband the chattiest man on the planet. 

She smiles softly at him and runs her fingers through his hair, “You’ve been bragging about me?”

He nods earnestly before wincing, “Always.” 

She presses her lips together to stop her smile from getting any wider and she looks up at the nurse, “Is there anything I need to know?”

“Here is some gauze and some more pain meds,” she replies, handing Emily a bag, “He can use an ice pack when needed and as from tomorrow I’d recommend salt water rinses-”

“Gross,” Aaron interrupts, his face screwed up as Emily shoots him a look before she turns her attention back to the nurse.

“No food that will require a lot of chewing, and make sure he is careful when brushing.” 

Emily nods, her eyes flicking to her husband when he reaches for her hand, linking his fingers through hers, “Of course.” 

“What about kissing?” Aaron asks, his brow furrowing in frustration at the sound of his own voice, his tongue heavy in his mouth, “Is kissing okay?”

Emily sighs, ignoring how she could feel the nurse's amusement radiating off of her, “Honey-”

“Kissing is needed,” he says, looking earnestly at the nurse, “Have you seen how pretty she is? I need to be able to kiss her.”

The nurse, to her credit, doesn’t laugh, but she does clear her throat as she nods, her eyes sparkling as they meet Emily’s, “Kissing is fine, Aaron. Don’t worry.” 

Emily squeezes his hand as she looks down at him, “Come on, let's get you out of here,” she says, desperate to get him in the car and home before he says anything else. 

She thanks the nurse and then the receptionist as she walks past, her cheeks warming again as the other woman winks at her. Aaron stumbles ever so slightly when they get outside, as if the fresh air knocks him back, reminding him that he’s pumped full of painkillers and whatever sedative they gave him. She wraps her arm around his waist and smiles when his automatically loops around her shoulder, pulling her closer as if he’s the one providing the support. 

“Let’s go home,” she says as they approach the car, but he stops, still able to use his strength against her even in his impaired state, and she furrows her brow when she turns to see him staring at her, “What's wrong?” 

“I can’t go home, I need to go to work.” 

She thinks he’s joking at first and she laughs but it fades when she realises he’s being serious. She places her hands on her hips and shakes her head at him, “Aaron, baby, you’ve just had two teeth removed. You can’t feel half your face.”

“I don’t need my face to do paperwork,” he says, his attempt at a stern expression somewhat lost when half of his face doesn’t comply. “If you take me home I’ll just drive there myself.” 

She sighs because she knows he would. He’d rest for approximately two minutes before he got in the car and drove himself to work. She rolls her eyes and steps closer to him, making sure she stamps a kiss on the cheek he can feel before she pulls back. 

“Fine,” she says, raising her eyebrow at him, “I just had to marry the most stubborn man on the planet,” she says, shaking her head as she unlocks the car and slides into the driver's side, grateful when he at least doesn’t argue and gets in the passenger seat. She clips her seat belt into place and checks his is secure too when he’s done it, and she catches him staring at her, “What?” 

“You’re so good at looking after me,” he says, his smile still wonky and dazed, “Jack and the baby are so lucky to have you.” 

She leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth, “I think you’ve said more to me in the last few minutes than you did the entire first month I knew you.” 

He frowns, “That’s not true.” 

She hums, “Whatever you say, honey.” 

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and sends two quick texts to the BAU group chat before she locks it and puts it down as she starts the engine. 

As predicted he wants to come to work. If any of you say anything about his lisp or his swollen face I will kill you.

We both know I’m talking to you, Derek.

___

He talks the entire car ride to the office. 

She has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing more than once, his constant stream of consciousness, mostly about her and how much he loved her, as entertaining as it was embarrassing. 

He’d never been shy about his love for her, not in private anyway. He always told her how much he loved her, how much he appreciated her. But this was something else, unbidden and wild as it spilled out of him without thought, his words slurred slightly by his half-numb face and the pain meds that were making him loopy. 

“Want to know my favourite thing about being at work?” He says as they get out of the elevator, and nods, regretting it when her stomach rolls a little, “That I get to sit at my desk and look at you.” 

She shakes her head lovingly and she stops them, “Want to know my favourite thing about being at work?” 

“I want to know everything about you.” 

She chuckles and bites her lower lip before she leans in, making sure no one would be able to hear her if they walk past, “That occasionally, my husband will sneak away and make out with me in a supply closet.” 

He attempts to waggle his brows at her but fails, “We can do that later if you want.”

She kisses his cheek before she pulls back, heading for the doors into the bullpen, “Baby, I think making out might be a little beyond you for a couple of days.” 

“But the nurse said we could kiss,” he grumbles as she pushes the door open, and she can see the delight that passes over Derek and Dave’s face as they step into the office, but all it takes is her raising her eyebrow at them for them to clear their throats, tight smiles thrown their way as Derek mumbles under his breath. 

“Looking good Hotch.” 

“Do you need help getting up to your office?” Emily asks Aaron, ignoring Derek and the others completely, and she regrets it the moment she asks. The unfiltered love she’d quickly become used to in the last hour or so flashing across his face before he leans in and kisses her cheek, sloppy and uncoordinated as he presses his lips against her skin. 

“You’re such a good wife,” he says as he pulls back, his smile wide, “You’re such a good mom,” he adds, and she knows what was going to happen a split second before it does, his hand reaching out for her stomach as he carries on talking before she can stop him, “I can’t wait to have this baby with you.” 

She sighs and closes her eyes, the moment of silence that follows what he’s said all too brief for her liking before she hears a gasp from JJ. 

“You’re pregnant?” 

Emily turns and looks at the team, and she nods, clearing her throat as she reaches down and squeezes Aaron’s hand before she removes it from her belly, “Yes. I am.” 

JJ pulls her into a hug, and Emily watches as Derek smiles and pulls his phone out of his pocket, sending a text that she’d bet her trust fund on going to Penelope. 

“Congratulations,” JJ says, squeezing her tightly, “I’m so happy for you.”

Emily hugs her back, wrapping her arm around her briefly before she pulls back, “Thank you,” she says, throwing her husband a look, “We weren’t planning on telling anybody yet. But we’re excited.” 

Dave muscles his way in for a hug, before he pats Aaron on the shoulder, “I’m happy for you both. I assume I get to be god-father.” 

“It makes more sense for someone younger than them to be godfather,” Spencer says, smiling when Dave narrows his eyes at him, and Emily turns to Aaron, shaking her head as he watches everyone else. She slaps his shoulder gently, her eyebrow raised as their eyes meet.

“Now you’re quiet?” She asks, opening her mouth to gently berate him, any attempt to be mad at him pointless when he was looking at her like she hung the moon and the stars herself, but she’s cut off by a delighted squeal as Penelope walks into the bullpen. 

“Peaches, you’re pregnant?” 

Emily groans and pinches the bridge of her nose, “I should have just taken him home.” 

___

Aaron grumbles as Emily lifts his head up just long enough to slip in underneath, taking her place back on the couch, before lowering him back down onto the cushion on her lap before she holds an icepack against his cheek. “There’s something wrong with this,” he complains and she smiles, running her fingers through his hair with her free hand. 

“What do you mean?” 

He stretches his jaw and then groans in pain, “My pregnant wife looking after me,” he complains, his lisp almost entirely gone, “I should be waiting on you hand and foot. Bringing you water and ginger ale and rubbing your feet.” 

She chuckles and gently runs her knuckles up and down his good cheek, “You can do that tomorrow when you feel better,” she replies, her smile turning into a smirk, “Plus I think you owe me as many foot rubs as I want after telling everyone about the baby.” 

He grimaces and reaches up for her hand, linking their fingers together as he drags her hand to his lips and kisses them, “I am so sorry, sweetheart.” 

“It’s okay, honey,” she replies, “It’s not how I thought they’d find out. But I’m glad they know,” she says, her smile so wide her cheeks ache, “It makes it feel more real, you know?” 

“I know,” he says, and he turns his head and presses a kiss against her belly before he looks back up at her, “I really love you, Em,” he says, the same dopy smile he’d had all day spreading across his face, “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” 

Emotion she doesn’t understand, something she blames entirely on the baby, builds in her chest and she blows out a slow breath, “I love you too. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.” 

He smiles widely at her, but it slowly fades as if something is dawning on him and he groans, “You’re never going to let me live today down are you?” 

She laughs loudly and shakes her head, pushing his hair away from his forehead, “Oh, absolutely not.” 

-x-

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[starsomens]

We LOVE dad Noah here!

How about ummm, oh! A quick lil bubble of Noah going with reader and Eden to get her ears pierced? I know my parents took me as a baby maybe like 8-9 months? Ik some people have feelings about it but I personally am happy there did!

Anyway thank you start love you❤️❤️

A/N: omg so cute!! I know my mom had my ears pierced when I was around 6 to 7 months or so. Maybe a little bit younger, but my dad was definitely very upset I was crying when it happened.😭😭

Noah was holding Eden in his lap and bouncing his knee. The month old, simply just enjoying being held by her father. Noah was internally freaking out about her ears being pierced. Of course you’re both OK with her. Having earrings and logically speaking doing it now will be better for her since she won’t remember the pain. Either way it was a quick pinch and should be over in just 10 minutes.

However, on the way over to the establishment started to freak out a little bit. Knowing that the piercing would make her cry. So no he was giving options about waiting until next week or trying to find a place that numb her ear and pierce it instead.

But you were reassuring him that she would be fine and she wouldn’t even remember it after five minutes. So now you had a pouty husband to try and comfort while he was waiting in the chair as the employee was readying the needle and earrings. Of course Noah being who he was for his princess got her only the nicest and highest quality earing and piercer. Making sure to look into reviews on how they are with kids.

"Alright are we ready?" the young girl asked. Her bright smile such a contrast to her piercings and tattoos. She was just lovely to speak with as she explained the process "Alright dad, we're going to try and pierce her ears nice and quick. So I'll need to you to hold her head and make sure she doesn't move,"

Noah take the deep breath while he faces his large hand on Eden small head. Her face still not knowing what is to come and knows how was jumping out of his chest. The piercer mark a single dot on each of her loans sure that they both look even before she grabbed the needle gun. Aligning the tip of the needle on her earlobe, she says,

“ oh right, we’re gonna try to make this really fast really quick so once I’m done with this year, I’m moving right to the second one,” she reiterates she had said before “ ready? 1…..2…..3,”

And in the blink of an eye, the gun clicks as appears through her ear. It takes a second for Eden to react actually, trying to understand what had just happened as her lips starts to pout. Her little nose sniffling as a wine, and a cry starts to escape her lips. Noah’s heart broke hearing her starts to cry.

On top of that he was the one holding her head in place so that she wouldn’t move and all he wanted to do was to comfort her. And at the same time he’s never felt more rage towards someone who essentially he was paying to do this

The piercer quickly moves to the other side and pierces her ear quickly. “ Okay she’s all done, no more. I’m sorry princess” she gives an apologetic look to Noah and Eden we all know it does is turn Eden into him and comfort her. He had his signature mug shot face very upset. His baby was uncomfortable and hurting.

No one stand up from the sea, and he walks around the room, bouncing her to try and calm her down. His large hand no longer holding your head in place, but caressing the soft hair on her head as his lips kiss her forehead.

“I’m so sorry baby. I know Mommy so mean for letting the lady do that” he whispers to her and all you could do was go at him as he blamed you partially for it. Luckily you both know was Eden’s main source of calm and comfort. Now you moved to the front desk to pay for the service, eden has calmed down and her crush were reduced to small sniffles as she sucked on her finger to also calm her down.

While your card was being charged, you take a look at her earring and you were very happy with the service. She did great in Eden seem to be dealing with him much better than you had anticipated. On the other hand was still very upset.

“Babe why are you still pouting? She’s just fine”

“ Because look at her face, her nose is all red and look at her cheeks. Her eyes are red and watery still” no it was very emotional when it came to his precious little princess. He couldn’t blame him since he felt the same way. But you knew that the pain for this was temporary and she wouldn’t remember it at all by the next day. Just like when you had taken her to the doctor to get her shot after she was born.

While you walk to the car hand-in-hand, no scene to forgive you a bit more as Eden returns to her normal self. As he put her into the car seat, he takes a look at her earrings and tilts his head a bit.

“Look at my princess. Did daddy get you was pretty earrings?” he uses his baby voice with her. “Looking so beautiful, just like Mama”

He then turned to you planted a kiss on your nose. As he closes the door, he opens the passenger door for you to get into

“Oh? I thought it was my fault for letting the mean, lady pierce her ears,” you pouted at him as he crossed your arms, reiterating his own words back to him

“ maybe it wasn’t completely your fault you were right she did calm down after a while. And I guess…. You’re right she won’t remember it later on in life.”

You take a hold of his jaw gently and shake his head slightly “AWWHH look at my man admitting that he’s wrong,”

“Wrong? No, I did not say I was wrong. I still think that piercer was a bitch for making her cry,”

“Noah that’s her job, Eden was going to cry either way!” You giggle as you climb into the car

“Yeah yeah, I won’t leave a bad review” he chuckled closing the door

“Noah don’t you dare!” your muffled voice, comes from inside the car as he rounds the front and gets into the driver seat. He completely ignores what you say turns to Eden and put his hand into her car seat and tickles her little belly

“Now who wants ice cream?!” Wanting to reward her for being such a brave girl

“ oh yeah, that’s right just change the subject,” crossing your arms

“ keep that attitude up and I’ll make sure to use my ice cream for something else” he smirks at you as he turns on the car and scans your body from top to bottom

“…..fine I want my usual order and you better know it or you won’t be using your ice cream for anything” she knew what you were talking about you hear Eden giggle in the back of the car

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @lust-for-sacher @thescarlettvvitch @cind6547 @itsmrsfuentes @lma1986 @darling-millicent-aubrey @daylightlvrs @artificialbreezy @alittleblackmagic @cookiesupplier @sprokat @rafeyybabey

[pugh-bug]

No.42 Chapter 3

Art Donaldson x reader slow burn friends to lovers

Sorry for the wait! The day I set aside to get loads done on this I ended up having to visit a family member in hospital, he’s much much better now. Anyway oversharing. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I loved writing it. Let me know if you wanna be added to my tag list 💕

Part 1

Part 2

——————————————————————

You woke up on Saturday morning to a missed text from Art.

7:58am - text from Art

Sorry if I woke you when I left. Gone to play hard court today hope you slept alright on that couch.

The sudden realisation that you were not in fact in your bed hit you almost as hard as the loose spring in your back. You groaned, reaching for some leftover pizza. None left. You groaned again.

9:26am - text to Art

Did you eat all your pizza?

To your surprise the boy replied immediately, showcasing his ability to read your mind.

9:27am - text from Art

Afraid so :) Look in the fridge if you’re so hungry

The fridge, despite the tightness of your apartment, had never looked so far away. You’d rather wait the nine hours for Art to return and pass food to you through a funnel. He could create some sort of feeding tube, perhaps he could fashion it out of one of the dozen tennis ball containers Patrick left lying around. You hadn’t seen the floor in years.

It took you almost thirty minutes to peel your lifeless body off the sofa and trudge the eight metres to the fridge. Before all of your fingers had grasped the cold metal you caught it. The smell.

The month you and Patrick were flat hunting had been a difficult one, full of stress and disappointments. A week before you found the flat you now called home, Art had found crying outside your favourite pancake place. You didn’t know if Patrick had texted him, giving him a heads up of your less than stellar mood and where to find you, or if he had simply ran into you by accident but one minute he was there.

The two of you had shared your favourite, strawberry and kiwi pancakes with whipped cream, despite having never spent time alone together previously and it hadn’t been awkward. Any awkwardness had come from your inability to keep your emotions to yourself and not a mess for all to see. Art hadn’t minded in fact, unbeknownst to you, he’d greatly enjoyed your company and had had a shitty day himself before your talk.

10:02am - text to Art

Did I ever mention I love you living here??

Sitting proudly in the fridge, in between Patrick’s abandoned pasta and your pathetic amount of cheese, was a plate of strawberry and kiwi pancakes. You looked at the pile of washing up and noticed essence of strawberry still dripping from the chopping board next to a whisk and bowl.

‘God damn…’ you actually moaned aloud at the first bite. Not only were they delicious but they’d been made especially for you for no reason. No one had ever made you breakfast before, unless you counted the time Patrick threw a box of muffins at your head to wake you up for school. It often didn’t take a great amount of effort to impress you, something maybe a therapist needed to hear about, but you felt justified being impressed with Art for this. They were truly wonderful.

10:20am - text from Art

Come thank me in person if you want, Liam is taking another break

You couldn’t help but smile at his little dig at Liam, whether intentional or not it told you everything you needed to know: Art was the better player. Art was always the better player, he usually wiped the floor with anyone who wasn’t Patrick.

It was only a twenty minute walk to Stanford and although you were ashamed to admit it … you had nothing better to do on a Saturday morning. You decided to pack your laptop, so you could kid yourself that this was a productive thing and not just an excuse to watch Art sweat. The damn thing wouldn’t even get opened and you knew it.

It was a hot day, even for Summer it was unforgiving. You pulled at your tank top, attempting to negate any sweat stains by leaving a gap between your wet skin and the thin fabric. No such luck, the car window reflection of yourself showed you the harsh reality. How did Art do it? How did he look sexy whilst sweating? You felt like a drowned dog, heaving and panting in the back of a muggy car trying to see past the drops of sweat in your lashes.

You reached Stanford earlier than you expected and to your great satisfaction, saw no Art present. That gave you ample time to tidy yourself up in the toilets before meeting him. The college had crisp air con, much better than the pathetic excuse for a fan you and Patrick would crowd round on hot days.

Art didn’t text you directions because he didn’t need to. He knew you’d visited Patrick enough times to know your way around all the tennis courts, hard or otherwise. It didn’t take you long to find the right one.

‘Fuck!’

You scanned the indoor courts for the source of the outburst. Art, third court from the left and he was not happy. For a moment you teetered on your feet, unsure if it was better to wait a bit before interfering with their clearly tense match. Before you could make a decision however-

‘Y/N!’

Liam spotted you, putting his racket down immediately to wave you over. He’d once gotten drunk and told Patrick how much he liked you but that it had been so long ago that you’d almost forgotten and his new girlfriend was a tennis star. On the ‘up and up’ as Patrick’s dad would say.

Although Liam’s hug was intense, sweaty and pretty uncomfortable you were too focused on Art to cringe. He was rubbing his face with his hands, looking more pained than you’d ever seen him. You didn’t know why. He’d been playing well before you arrived.

Noticing the object of your frown, Liam suddenly grinned even wider. ‘He just lost the third set.’ Art took a large swig of water, not noticing the way you stared in awe at the angle of his jaw and the wet curls on his forehead. He was too focused on the racket he was clutching fiercely enough to force the veins of his forearm to pull your attention.

‘I know it’s not over yet,’ Liam panted slightly, clearly Art had still run him ragged. ‘But this never happens - never.’ In the years they’d played together, Liam had never beaten Art. Not in singles or doubles. Not on hard court. Not on clay or grass. Never. You were not convinced, however, that poor Liam had never won a set before so you voiced your opinion without thinking.

‘Art, you can still win. It’s fine!’

Art shot you a glare. It didn’t last long but it burned you a little, the intensity of it. He wanted so badly for you to be right, for it to not matter to him. ‘It’s just a game’ well it wasn’t to Art. It was his entire future and if he lost - if he lost ever - it was him throwing that future away.

‘You’ll win the fourth.’ You smiled, reassuringly. That lifted Art a little and bruised his partner.

‘I thought we were stopping for a bit since Y/N’s here.’ Art watched your face for a reaction, daring you to decide for the three of them. Without removing your eyes from Art you smiled. ‘No, no. I’ll watch.’

You watched them play for another hour and a half. Art just won the fourth set, by the narrowest of margins but that gave him the confidence boost he badly needed to destroy Liam in the fifth. Th-wack! Smash. Th-wack! Slice. Th-wack! Topspin. You were honestly confused why Liam bothered serving. If it had been you - well - let’s just say the floor would have made a more than sufficient bed. It was certainly making a sufficient seat for you to watch Liam get massacred. God was Art good.

‘You win…’ Liam was dripping, his white shirt almost see-through. ‘I need a sec…’ So did you. It was practically a workout just watching them. You clapped as Art walked over to you, looking very satisfied with his win. ‘You happy now?’

‘Very.’

As Liam rung out his shirt, Art gestured to the court with his racket. ‘You and me. One game.’ His eyes were full of amusement.

‘Ha.’

You’d die.

‘One set?’ He smirked, desperate for you to humour him. Not today. ‘Absolutely not.’ You laughed, standing up.

‘Actually, I’d love lunch right now,’ Liam’s suggestion was a necessity. ‘After a shower.’ And so was his afterthought. They both needed one desperately. Art’s hair didn’t even look blonde anymore.

‘Yeah you two go, I’ll wait then we can get food. I’m not super hungry but I can always eat.’

Liam was already rushing to the showers, practically leaving a pool of loser evidence behind him but Art heard. He looked like he was waiting for something from you and for a moment, in your haze, you wondered what. Oh!

‘The pancakes,’

‘Hm.’

‘De-licious.’

‘Good.’

You could tell he was happier with your compliment than he was letting on. The truth was Art craved praise, mostly for tennis but for anything he accomplished. It didn’t matter if he’d made a three tier cake, organised a trip or won every set in a match he wanted to know he’d done good.

‘Seriously, how did you even find the recipe?’ The two of you walked together out of the hall. ‘I’ve been asking the staff for years, pretty sure they hate me now actually.’

‘I have my ways.’ He grinned. ‘Now, I’m gonna go shower-‘

‘Good, you stink.’

‘Fuck off.’

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Taglist: @gatorgirl007 @imblushingrn

[muzaktomyears]

The man who was there the day the Beatles broke up

Mal Evans was the Fab Four’s roadie, fixer and friend. Paul McCartney confided in him when the band split, while John Lennon relied on him to guard his life. A new book tells his story

The Beatles’ lingering tensions finally caught up to them during a meeting among John, Paul and George at 3 Savile Row on September 10 1969. As Mal and Neil [Aspinall, who ran the Beatles’ company Apple Corps] observed, John took particular issue with what he perceived as Paul’s megalomania, saying that, “If you look back on the Beatles albums, good or bad or whatever you think of ’em, you’ll find that most times if anybody has got extra time it’s you! For no other reason than you worked it like that.” For Mal, the conversation must have been pure agony. He idolised Paul, who bore the brunt of the meeting’s vitriol.

In his own defence, Paul protested that he had “tried to allow space on albums for John’s songs, only to find that John hadn’t written any”.

With the idea of recording a new album seemingly off the table, John suggested that they produce a Christmas single instead. After all, he reasoned, their annual holiday fan club record would be due before long. When this idea was met with silence and indifference, John soberly concluded, “I guess that’s the end of the Beatles.”

As horrible as the experience must have been for Mal, panic hadn’t set in just yet. During the past 15 months, Ringo and George had quit the band at various times, only to be coaxed back. But ten days later it all spilled out again at a meeting at Apple. Mal and Allen Klein (their manager after the death of Brian Epstein) were there, along with Yoko, Neil and the boys. For his part, George was on speakerphone from Cheshire, where he was visiting his ailing mother. The topic at hand was a new agreement with Capitol, which Klein was understandably eager to ink.

As Mal observed, Paul began to enumerate the group’s upcoming opportunities, including a series of intimate gigs and a possible television special. In each instance, John said, “No, no, no,” before telling Paul, “Well, I think you’re daft.” Eventually, he blurted out that he wanted a “divorce”. “What do you mean?” a stunned Paul asked. “The group’s over,” John replied. “I’m leaving.”

At this point, Paul recalled, “Everyone blanched except John, who coloured a little, and said, ‘It’s rather exciting. It’s like I remember telling Cynthia I wanted a divorce.’ ”

Afterwards, Mal and Paul returned to McCartney’s home, where they retreated to the garden, still trying to process what had transpired. Paul remained hopeful that John might change his mind, that the Beatles would continue unabated. But Mal knew better. As with George, Mal had reasoned that “all of them had left the group at one time or another, starting with Ringo’’. But when “John came into the office and said, ‘The marriage is over! I want a divorce,’ that was the final thing. That’s what really got to Paul, you know, because I took Paul home and I ended up in the garden crying my eyes out.”

That night with Lennon and Phil Spector in 1973, when happiness was not a warm gun

Mal took great pleasure in spending long hours in John’s company, enjoying the Beatle’s undivided attention, as opposed to sharing him with Paul, George and Ringo. “It was fascinating,” said Mal, who by this point was living in LA and writing his own songs, “because John was talking to me like I was a songwriter, and that was incredible. For the first time, John and I really communicated, whereas, when it was the four of them, John was always the hardest to talk to. I always thought that when John stopped insulting me, we had fallen out as friends.” But, he added, referring to John’s teasing, “The more he likes you, the more he takes the mickey out of you.”

Yet, as Mal soon discovered, working with John during this period would prove to be a chore — incomparable, in fact, to their touring years together, when the Beatles were often confined to the relative safety of a hotel suite. When he was in LA, John could often be found at the Sunset Strip’s Rainbow Bar and Grill, which had emerged as his de facto headquarters [during a period of heavy drinking which Lennon ironically referred to as the Lost Weekend but actually lasted 18 months.] With musicians like John, Harry (Nilsson), Ringo, Keith Moon, Alice Cooper and Micky Dolenz adopting the Rainbow as their regular watering hole, they had taken to calling themselves the Hollywood Vampires, a nickname that evoked the night hours they spent guzzling hooch in the bar’s loft space.

On one of his most harrowing evenings in Los Angeles, Mal had accompanied John and Phil Spector to the Rainbow. At one point, John walked Phil to his car, assuring Mal that he would return shortly. “About a half hour goes by, and I start worrying and go outside looking for John — no sign,” Mal later wrote. “I’d lost track of a Beatle for a day. What had happened, I found out the following evening, was that when he’d seen Phil off, a few hippie fans of his took him in tow, and John, who had just moved into a flat, couldn’t remember the address, nor his or my phone numbers. [John] eventually turn[ed] up, but not before I’d had a few irate words from Yoko, who phoned me from New York shouting, ‘I thought you were John’s bodyguard — why don’t you guard his body?’ ”

At a loss for words, Mal admitted that “I never really thought of myself as a bodyguard to anybody, but I suppose over the years that had been part of the gig. Anyway, they were all grown up, with very strong minds of their own as to what they wanted to do, and I certainly didn’t expect them to hold themselves accountable to me.”

That December, as work on Back to Mono proceeded, John and Phil shifted their project to the Record Plant West. The change of recording studios had everything to do with John’s and Phil’s antics having gotten them evicted from their previous studio, A&M. At one point, Nilsson and Moon, in a drunken stupor, had urinated onto the recording console, leaving the electronics in an ungodly mess.

Things began innocently enough after John and Phil completed their December 11 session at the Record Plant West, where they took a pass at Chuck Berry’s You Can’t Catch Me. As Mal looked on, the two men, drunk to the gills, were horsing around the Las Vegas Room. In a nod to the early days of Beatlemania when the Beatles would climb on Mal when they heard they were at the top of the charts, John decided to hop onto Mal’s back for a piggyback ride. Unfortunately, Phil opted to get in on the act, too. Mal’s physical dexterity in late 1973 was a far cry from that of the early 1960s, and he had difficulty sustaining the weight of two men atop his aching back. As always, Mal observed, “Phil goes a little too far,” and in the ensuing ruckus, “he karate-chopped me on the nose, my spectacles went flying, and I got tears in my eyes I can tell you. I turned around with a real temper and told Phil, ‘Don’t ever lay another finger on me, man.’ ”

And that’s when Phil, “maybe to re-establish himself in his own eyes”, Mal thought, pulled out a handgun. To the roadie’s surprise, the producer “fired it off under our noses, deafening us both, the bullet ricocheting around the room and landing between my feet”.

John was understandably incensed, exclaiming to Phil, “If you’re gonna kill me, kill me, but don’t take away my hearing — it’s me living!”

Until that moment, Mal and John had believed that Spector’s handgun was a toy. At one point earlier in the evening, Phil had cocked the trigger and aimed the weapon at John’s head. As a result of the incident in the Las Vegas Room, “John’s fear of guns generally was doubled.” For his part, Mal vowed to stay clear of Phil. He would attend the recording sessions in deference to John, but that was it.

In nearly the same instant that Mal decided to banish Phil from his world forever, he and John were hustled off to [co-founder of the Record Plant] Gary Kellgren’s house for a lavish going-away party in honour of Mal, who was preparing to make his return to Sunbury. For the occasion, Phil had arranged for Mal to receive “a beautiful large cake, which must have measured four feet by three feet, so nicely decorated with a large bottle of Napoleon brandy, [and] a lot of comic figures like Superman and Batman,” Mal wrote. The sumptuous dessert was inscribed, “To Mal, my pal, love, Philip.”

As it turned out, the madcap producer’s greatest gift to Mal that night came in the form of his absence. “Phil, to show the most understanding side of his nature, did not come to the party,” said Mal. “He knew if he had, he’d be outrageous and spoil it for me. But he set it up and didn’t come — a true mark of affection from a friend.”

The party came to a sudden close, though, when John, having grown blind drunk, planted a telephone into the sticky remains of the cake.

Meet the Beatles: four days in Mal’s life with the moptops

Paul (1962) In July 1962, Mal and his family attended the celebration of the “Wavertree Mystery”, an annual event held to commemorate the anonymous donation of a local playground back in 1895. Mal later recalled that, “Lil and I were proudly pushing Gary in his pram when she turned to me and said, ‘There’s a weird guy over there — keeps staring at us. Now he looks like a real Cavernite to me.’ On turning, I was to see Paul standing there, unshaven, with a denim jacket thrown over his shoulder and chewing on a toffee apple.” After engaging in the niceties of introducing his wife to the scruffy musician, Mal took Paul for a jaunt. “We spent the rest of the day together,” Mal wrote, “Paul and I daring each other to go on things like the parachute drop and other displays that took nerve, neither of us accepting the challenge.” At one point, they stopped in front of an automobile exhibition. Paul announced to Mal that “one of these days I’m going to own one of those cars’’, pointing to one very humble saloon-type car.

George (1962) After shows at the Cavern, Mal would introduce his wife Lily to the rest of the band. “On one occasion,” Mal recalled, “Lil and I bought the fish and chips for the group and ourselves, as they could only muster enough money between them to pay for the teas.” Although she had her misgivings about Mal’s involvement in their lives, she enjoyed getting to know the bandmates. “After gigs,” she later recalled, “George would come back to our house for bacon and eggs. He sometimes came back before Mal to keep me company. I’d be washing baby clothes and nappies or ironing. I liked him the best.” Lily fondly remembered the time she pushed the bangs from Harrison’s face, saying, “Let’s see what it looks like with your hair back. I like that better.” But George wasn’t having it. He combed his hair forward, telling her, “That’s the way I have to wear it; it’s the Beatle cut.”

Ringo (1965) Driving up the M1, Mal and Ringo stopped at a roadside café for lunch. “We were sitting at the counter,” Mal recalled, “and the chap next to me had obviously been trying to make up his mind whether it really was Ringo with me. Suddenly, he turned to me and said, ‘I don’t care if it is him or not.’ Ringo nearly choked with laughter as I teased the fellow, saying, ‘No, it’s not him. But it gets terribly embarrassing taking him anywhere because everybody mistakes him for Ringo!’”

John (1964) John held no illusions about the Beatles’ behaviour, later admitting that, “We were bastards. You can’t be anything else in such a pressurised situation, and we took it out on Neil and Mal. They took a lot of shit from us because we were in such a shitty position. It was hard work and somebody had to take it. Those things are left out, about what bastards we were. F***ing big bastards, that’s what the Beatles were. You have to be a bastard to make it, and that’s a fact. And the Beatles were the biggest bastards on earth. We were the Caesars. Who’s going to knock us when there’s a million pounds to be made, all the handouts, the bribery, the police, and the hype?”

During a flight to Massachusetts for the September 12 show at the Boston Garden, Mal’s long-standing feelings of intimidation around John came to a head. Sitting at the rear of the plane, he broke down in tears, telling a reporter that “John got kind of cross with me — just said I should go f*** off. No reason, ya know. But I love the man. John is a powerful force. Sometimes he’s rough, if you know what I mean, man. But there’s no greater person that I know.” In many ways, it was as if Mal’s lack of self-confidence, a key aspect of his persona for the balance of his life, had returned with a vengeance. Later John approached Mal and embraced him.

Extracted from Living the Beatles Legend by Kenneth Womack (Mudlark £25), published on November 14.

(source)