#When I’m having a good day that song comes to me with so much ease and I feel so proud of myself

[jon-withnoh]

I’m doing Ich Gehör Nur Mir in my singing lessons rn and the panic I have to overcome every time I practice is so real. Not because of the song, but because the walls are paper-thin and I know that my next door neighbours, my upstairs neighbours, my upstairs upstairs neighbours, the people in the backyard next door, and half the street can hear me sing. Taking up space and having a „big“ voice is really really hard after my entire adolescence was divided between a voice teacher who said I wasn’t good enough and wasting my potential and peers who bullied me for liking classical music and „showing off“ when I sang. It’s sad because I’ve finally grown into my voice and I think it’s beautiful. But I’m hoping that if I just keep going and keep doing lessons with my new teacher it’ll eventually get easier.

[nereidprinc3ss]

come on home

in which the only person who can comfort you after your breakup with spencer reid, is spencer reid

inspired by the song "summer's end" by the artist currently known as phoebe bridgers

wc 2857

warnings: gn!reader (correct me if im wrong), minor mommy issues, angst, happy ending

a/n: thank you to the person who requested this:) u r an angel and I listened to this song the whole time i wrote (if you haven't heard, listen!!) i sincerely hope you enjoy, i like this one a lot<3

She hung up on you. 

Forty-seven minutes of being insulted and berated after you’d called her looking for comfort, and you put up with every single cruel word—just for your mother to hang up on you. And it’s exactly the kind of thing she’d do, so you shouldn’t be surprised. An ache, you’d expect—but it shouldn’t sting like this. You thought you knew better. 

Now you’re in a ball on your couch, clutching your phone to your chest and crying. There’s no point hiding it. Your roommate is out with her girlfriend for the evening—which is too bad because even though you feel like being alone, you’re sure that’s the wrong call. Your other friends are out having fun tonight, too. They’d even invited you, but you turned them down. Look where that had gotten you. Obviously, your mother is not the person you’re about to run to for comfort, either. 

You try to pretend, while you’re thinking of all these people who have ever cared for you, that Spencer Reid isn’t on your mind at all. You try to pretend like you don’t care that the person who loved you until you believed you actually deserved it is a contact going stale deep in the bowels of your text cache. With bleary eyes you scroll down, looking for your conversation where it gathers dust—the end of your relationship was a mutual decision, and you’re friendly, but you haven’t texted in a few weeks. Probably because every time the conversation starts to feel a little too easy, or the phone call lasts a little too long, that aching void in your chest gets worse and worse. Like pain in a phantom limb, you become acutely aware of what you do not have and how much it hurts.  

So blame it on the tears, or the mind-muddling melodrama of your relationship with your mother, blame it on anything but the truth—when your thumb drops on that call button like the plunger on a syringe, you don’t regret it.  

What you’re not expecting is for him to answer after the first ring. 

“Hi,” you say with a snuffle before Spencer can get a word in. There’s a brief interlude, in which you pick at your nails, comfortable to just sit in silence if that’s what he wants. As long as he’s there. 

“Hi.” Hearing his voice instantly melts a bit of the weight you hadn’t realized you were carrying. Another pause, for which you remain silent, because you can feel him formulating a question—and you’d like to hear him speak again. “...am I allowed to ask if you’re okay?” 

Your lips purse and twist to the side, pained and comforted by how easily he can tell that you’re distraught. One word across a tinny connection, and he knows. 

“No. Yes. I mean... I guess that’s why I called you. But you don’t have to ask me about it.” You sniff again and take a deep breath. “How was your day? What state are you in?” 

“I’m in the district,” he answers after a moment, easing into a casualness that he likely doesn’t feel for your sake. Wind crunches through the speaker. He probably just got out of work. “My day was... it was good. I got to talk about my job to a bunch of elementary schoolers, which is always a confidence boost.” 

You chuckle, still laying on your side on the couch and watching storm clouds gathering outside. 

“Nice, nice. What else?” 

“Let’s see... I forgot lunch, so I had three oranges, and they were actually pretty good. I reread Game of Thrones—I don’t know why I did that. I’m never going to like that book.” 

“Masochist,” you smile. He laughs, and you hear the sound of a car door opening. 

“Oh! I talked to my mom. Believe it or not, she says hi.” 

A completely inadvertent snort constitutes your response. It’s not what you meant to do, and out of context it’s sort of mean, but you actually think it’s incredibly endearing that he still talks to his mother about you. He scrambles to explain himself. 

“I swear, we barely talked about you this time. Mostly we talked about her new boyfriend Leonard.” 

“No, no, that’s not... I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you or your mom. That’s really sweet, actually. Tell her I say hi too.” 

When he next speaks, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I will.” Another long pause. You imagine him sitting in the parking lot at Quantico, keys vertical in the ignition of his old car and feeling the silence just as much as you are. He surprises you by not ending the conversation—instead he asks a question. It is concern, poorly disguised with nervous humor. Or maybe you just know him too well. “Do I get to find out what’s on your mind, or are you leaving me in suspense here?”  

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Um... well, actually, I just got off the phone with my mom, too. It didn’t go so well,” you laugh halfheartedly, “I know it was dumb to try and have an actual conversation with her, but... you know me. Always following blind optimism to the depths of hell.” 

“Why’d you call your mom?” he asks, so gently it brings a fresh round of tears to your eyes. Still, you attempt to put a cheerful affect on your strained voice. 

“Mm, you know. Just needed someone to talk to.” 

Spencer’s knowing sigh does little to make you feel better. 

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I know it’s... it’s different now, but... I care about you a lot. And, you know, I receive very few phone calls, so the line is pretty much always open.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a cry. 

“I appreciate that, but I can’t talk to you about everything.” 

“Why not?” he pleads immediately, voice thin and desperate like it’s his most burning question. A million lies dance over the tip of your tongue. A million things that feel safer to say than the truth. But in the end, it comes out anyway—choked, and so quiet, but aloud nonetheless. 

“Because I’m trying really hard to stop missing you so much.” 

Another long beat of silence. The back of your throat feels dry and hollow—a cage for your hummingbird heart. 

“If it hurts too much to talk to me, you don’t need to do that to yourself. But I also don’t want you to hurt yourself thinking you’re alone. You are... so important to me. I will always try to take care of you the best I can—whether that means staying away or being at your front door. If you ever need me, or even... vaguely want me, I will be there.” 

Each word caves your resolve. Each syllable is a slap in the face to progress you’d been pretending to make. You can be strong—you've proven that over the past ten weeks. You can be stone-faced and slash at your heart until the scar tissue is thick and jagged, and eventually it won’t hurt anymore. But maybe, by letting someone tend to the wounds, they’ll heal a little nicer. A little kinder. Even if you can’t undo the damage, maybe one day you’ll be soft again. 

“What if I vaguely want you right now?” you sniffle. 

Finally, you hear the silver jingle of keys turning. The sputter and rumble of an old engine coming to life. 

“Then I’m on my way.” 

Twenty four minutes later, there’s a soft knock at your door.  

After the call had ended, you’d wondered if you made it all up. Surely your ex-boyfriend wasn’t actually about to show up at your apartment. Someone you’ve grieved for can’t just come back—there are countless horror novels and movies based upon that very tenet. Does it matter if they ever actually died? How long is ten weeks, really? It feels like a lifetime. 

You shuffle across the room, wiping under your eyes with your already damp sleeves, and undoing all the locks Spencer had conditioned you to start using. When the door cracks open, and you see Spencer standing there, windswept and concerned, for the first time in months, it hits you like a tidal wave. You are, beyond a shadow of a doubt, still just as in love with him as you ever were. The relief that floods your veins as he looks down at you with so much care in his eyes is like sinking into warm water. It’s a dead giveaway, and maybe it makes this whole thing a terrible idea, but you can’t seem to care very much. You open the door wider, and he enters, and he stands in your kitchen with his hands in his coat pocket as you shut the door and he’s perfect. It dawns on you that for the first time since the breakup, you feel safe. Like you don’t have to be a stone pillar anymore. This, of course, translates into even more tears, which you try to hide as you face away, re-locking the door.  

“Sweetheart...” he sighs, because you can’t hide anything from him. Hearing the resonance of his voice so close to you once more is overwhelming. In an instant you’re rushing into his arms, and he accepts you without hesitation. You bury your teary face in the vetiver safety of his button-up and slip your arms under his coat, as if you could absorb his warmth and forever hide from the world that way. He pulls you even closer. It’s terrible and cruel how much he is exactly what you needed. “What’s wrong? What did she say?” 

You shake your head and gasp a small sob. 

Truthfully, you’re not really crying about the petty insults from your mother anymore. You’re back to square one, the reason you’d called your mother to begin with—you miss the man whose arms are currently wound around your shoulders. 

His hand smooths over the back of your hair. 

“Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” 

You stay like that—content even as you cry because being with him feels so much safer than being alone. It feels right—or perhaps it’s just familiar. You don’t know which is worse.  

Spencer is rubbing soothing lines up and down your back as you cling to him, soaking him up in all his ephemeral, comforting glory. He surprises you by chuckling—it vibrates through his chest, buzzing against your ear. 

“Nice Magritte print. I bet the person who bought that has fantastic taste.” 

“Are you gonna ask for it back?” you mumble into the fabric of his suit jacket. He is, of course, referring to the painting you’d more or less stolen from his apartment seven months ago. You really don’t want him to take it home. It’s the most overt Spencer memorabilia you’d allowed yourself to keep in plain sight. 

“No, baby. You can keep it.” The words are low, and kind, and they settle you some, but you can’t seem to get him close enough. “What can I do?” he whispers after a moment, helpless as you take a shuddering breath. “Can I make you tea? Have you eaten?” 

“Will you just... stay for a little bit? I’ll—I promise I’ll stop crying.” 

There is an unexpected lull where you thought you’d receive pretty immediate agreement, but before you can pull back and ask what’s wrong, he murmurs, “yeah. I can stay for a while. But you have to kick me out before it gets too late.” 

You wonder if you’re imagining the double-entendre that seems to underline his words in bold red ink. Spencer is too smart to have not noticed a thing like that. You don’t mention it—it all boils down to the same unspoken idea. 

Don’t let me stay, because I might not leave. 

“I will,” you sniff, finally stepping back and wiping your own tears. It hurts to lose his touch, but at least you know he’s not going anywhere for the next few hours. This, as opposed to everything else lately, can be a beginning instead of an end.  

At least, until he goes home. 

Three and a half hours later, after tea, an impromptu dinner comprised mostly of cheese and crackers, and several vinyl changes on your record player (which served only as background noise for your long, ambling conversations), things are seeming to wind down to a natural stopping point. Which you hate. The whole time you’d had a dull ache in your chest because talking to him was easier than breathing and you knew it wouldn’t last. There had been one or two false bottoms already—the first when you’d yawned around nine, and the second when you’d gotten up to do your skincare and brush your teeth half an hour later. Even then he’d just leaned against the doorframe, watching your reflection above the sink as you talked for fifteen more minutes. Now you stand across from each other in the kitchen, plates restacked and everything in order. Of course he’d insisted on helping you clean up. 

“I should go,” he says, with a soft sort of finality in his voice.  

“Is your carriage turning into a pumpkin?” you tease gently, to hide how much you don’t want him to leave. He smiles—a small, weary thing—but genuinely and endlessly charmed by you. 

“That among other things.” 

“Would you—would you walk me to my room first?” 

The hesitance is clear in his eyes and the way his lips part as if to say, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea’, but you're sure he’s really going to leave in a moment and you’re also sure he won’t deny you this one small thing before he does. 

“Okay.” 

It’s a short, silent walk through the living room and down the hall to your bedroom door, but you can feel him trailing behind you the whole way. You stop in front of your open door, turning face to face with him.  

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

His lips pull into a melancholy smile. 

“Anytime.” 

There’s nothing left to do but wrap your arms around each other once more, tuck yourself into the you-sized space between his head and shoulder and hold on for as long as he’ll let you. The hug lingers for longer than is wise. Spencer adjusts his arms looped around your waist, pulling you closer, and you nuzzle against his neck, grateful that at least he seems as reluctant to let this end as you are.  

But eventually, it relaxes. Your hold on each other loosens. His face is just inches from yours, and you get to study every plane and valley and line like you’d thought you never would again. It seems he’s doing the same—losing himself in the luxury of seeing you up close. 

“Will you kiss me goodnight?” you whisper, unable to muster any self-consciousness though you know it’s a fool’s errand. Spencer strokes your waist. 

“I can’t do that, honey.” 

“Why not?” 

His voice is just as quiet as yours. It falters slightly as he speaks, so gently, so patiently. 

“Because we’re not together anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

Your feeble, desperate supplication sounds pitiable even to you. You’re not proud, but you can’t find it in yourself to be ashamed, either. All you want is an answer. But it’s like a child asking why the sky is blue, or the earth is round. There is a definitive explanation, but mostly, the adult will shrug, and say, that’s just how it is. 

Spencer’s eyes squeeze shut. His head tilts down. 

“We can’t do this again, sweetheart. You know why we’re not together.” 

In theory—yes. You’d had so many conversations when you’d broken up. It had been a long, painful process, spanning multiple all-nighters at his kitchen table, nursing coffee and trying to convince each other and yourselves that it was the right choice. But it just feels like a horrible, horrible mistake. You feel desperate to explain this to him before he slips away again—the words come out flustered, inelegant as you cling to him.

“But I don’t think I’m getting better without you. I tried, I tried so hard to be good on my own, but everything is worse and harder and—and we weren’t sure about it then, and I don’t think it was the right choice, because I still really need you. Like, all the time. I’m—it’s not getting better without you. Nothing got better.” 

He swallows, eyes darting between yours for an infinite second. You’re breathless and your heart is pounding after your confession—you can feel your eyes stinging with the few tears that managed to escape as you spoke. 

“Everything is worse,” he agrees shakily. “Everything. I’m—I’m getting disciplinary infractions from Hotch like I’m a child because I can’t focus on anything. Game of Thrones is the most complex literature I can comprehend right now. I had to use a calculator the other day.” 

You want to laugh, but nothing is funny until he’s yours again. 

“Then come back. Please come back, Spencer.” 

Finally, he leans closer, until your heads are pressed together, and his nose bumps yours, feather light. You're dizzy. You exhale. He inhales. 

“I don’t think I knew how to leave in the first place.” 

When he kisses you, it feels like home. 

[f1angelz]

𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 — lewis hamilton x f!reader

summary: Y/N has developed a habit of crying every night due to her emotional distress. Lewis finds out about her little secret after one night of hearing her sobs. Inspired by the song “When She Cries” by Restless Heart.

content warnings: none, just kinda sad!

i wrote this when i felt super down one night 🥲 i was overthinking abt my future, and the song that inspired this fic is so close to my heart. i hope you guys like this !!

── .✦

The past few months have been hard.

Y/N didn’t really feel like herself— at all. No matter how hard she tried to, it just wasn’t happening. Her fears were constantly eating her thoughts, creating an emotional mess that she didn’t know was possible.

Everyday she would wake up in the morning and try her best to repress her thoughts with a splash of cold water on her face, and a morning kiss or text from her boyfriend, Lewis.

God knew how much she wanted to open up to Lewis, but she couldn’t— too afraid to show her vulnerable side. Especially with Lewis being busy with races and all, she didn’t want him to be burdened with her emotional and mental problems.

So she hid it.

And when all the world is sleeping, she remains awake with tears flowing from her eyes and muffled sobs on the living room couch.

It was a frequent occurrence, even when Lewis was home for the off-season.

Once she feels like Lewis has drifted off to sleep, she’d sneak out of bed and place a pillow in replacement for her presence and leaves the bedroom quietly.

As soon as she shuts the door, her eyes start to sting and well up with tears— becoming uncontrollable for the next few moments.

There she sits on the couch with a dimly lit lamp, staring blankly at the balcony view of the night sky. With each tear and sob she let out, it was a temporary solution for the pain her thoughts were causing her.

After a few hours, she’d crawl back into bed and wake up the next morning like nothing happened. Yet a part of her thoughts still remain, ready to be cried out when the night comes.

She hoped that Lewis wouldn’t find out about her. Her vulnerability.

But of course, Lewis wasn’t dumb.

When she cries, a part of him shatters completely. It made him question himself as a partner— did he do something wrong? Was he treating her right?

It was only a matter of weeks, even days for Lewis to find out. As much as Lewis wanted to help, he didn’t want to scare her away. That was the last thing he’d want to happen.

Instead, he says a little prayer on behalf of her— that her pain goes away and she may finally find whatever she needed to keep her mind and heart at ease. But as each passing night comes by, her sobs grow louder and the pain in his chest was slowly becoming unbearable.

There was one night where he really, really couldn’t take the pain of hearing her sobs. It shattered him to the core.

So he peels himself out of the sheets and leaves bed, ignoring whatever time it probably was.

He quietly opens the door and sees her on the couch, curled up with a pillow on her chest.

Y/N is quick to wipe her tears away and plaster a smile on her face, trying her best to conceal the pain.

“O-Oh! Hey, I’m sorry I left bed, I just went out to drink a glass of water in the kitchen, then I decided to stay out here for a while.” She said in between sniffles, voice hoarse, ever so obvious that she just cried.

Lewis sighs, looking at her with sympathy. He walks towards the couch and sits beside her, taking a good look.

Though the lamp was dim, he could clearly see her swollen eyes— evident that she had been crying for hours.

Y/N knew that he wouldn’t believe her very smart lie, her face gave it all away.

Without saying anything, Lewis takes her into his arms.

She felt her eyes stinging, blurring her vision as tears formed once more.

“Please tell me what’s going on, my love. It pains me to hear your cry every night..”

Y/N’s tears fall down even more, now unable to hide her vulnerability.

She sobs and Lewis holds her even tighter, stroking her arm to calm her down.

“It’s okay, let it all out. Talk to me when you’re ready.” He rests his chin on her head while his heart still aches from the oblivion of her tears.

She didn’t know what to do at that moment. Obviously, there was no point in lying about her state anymore, it would just add fuel to fire. She felt trapped, knowing that she’d have to tell Lewis about her little secret for the past few months.

But how?

Her emotions were all over the place. Words were stuck in her throat like a clogged pipe, unable to make its way out no matter how hard she tried.

“L-lew..” She manages to say in a small voice, her chest heaving up and down to catch her breath. She looks up at him with glassy eyes and fidgeting fingers, “Yes, my love?” His gaze softens, hand over hers to ease her trembling.

“It’s so h-hard..”

Lewis places a kiss on her forehead, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me now. Take your time.”

She nods, still trembling.

“Whatever it is you’re going through now, I’m here. I know it hurts, love. I hear you every night trying to keep your sobs down, but your pain is evident. If you’ll let me, I’ll ease it for you.”

“B-but I don— hick— ‘n wanna be a burden.. You’re s-so— hick— b-busy with racing, m-my— hick— p-problems shouldn’t be y-yours..”

“Oh, my love, you will never be a burden for me.. We’re a team, remember? When one is down, the other one helps them get back on their feet— and I’m the one who’s doing that now.” Lewis places a hand on her cheek, wiping her tears away.

“I’m always here no matter what. No rush, okay? Whenever you’re ready, my love.”

He gives a reassuring smile, kissing her forehead once more.

Her heart feels a little bit lighter with Lewis’ words, tears have stopped falling yet her breath was still recovering.

They fell asleep on the couch that night, entangled in each other’s embrace.

Ever since then, not a single tear was shed at night.

── .✦

[seungfl0wer]

Jisung As Your Boyfriend

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut🩷

-🩵

•Falls fast. Falls hard.

•Needs reassurance now and then.

•”Are you sure you love me”

•Says on those days he’s feeling more down.

•When he loves he loves hard.

•He watches you carefully wanting to know everything about you.

•Watches you so he can know how to communicate even when you’re not talking.

•Just know’s your body language well.

•Can be very clingy.

•Loves to just be close to you touching you in some way.

•A lot of times he’ll just have his hand on your lap head on your shoulder.

•Will learn your favorite songs to play you on the guitar while he sings them to you.

•Does he ever love performing for you.

•It always makes him a little shy though.

•Blushing as he stutters at first.

•Cause he just melts as you are fully watching him.

•I’ve said this about others but Ji-

•Jisung is enamored by you.

•The way he sees you, you are this perfect peace of art that he has no idea how he got.

•He still has the cocky attitude about him though.

•So when he gets into it he’s giving you that cheeky smile making your heart just thud.

•If he could he’d put your heart beat into a song because it’s his favorite beat.

•Has so many songs about you, gives you one for each occasion like birthdays and holidays.

•You make him so shy but he also makes you so shy.

•Ah you both are just a cute blushy mess at first.

•Your first kiss was so sweet though. So loving?

•He wrapped his hands around you and kissed you while you rambled about something.

•When he pulled away he’d start with “I’m sorry”

•Before you quickly kissed him again.

•He’s also one that loves when you play with his hair.

•He’ll whine when you stop giving you those big ol eyes until you keep doing it.

•He loves loves cuddling where he’s lying on your stomach.

•Where you can play with his hair and he listens to your heartbeat.

•A puddle. That’s how it makes him.

•He’s not the best at saying how he feels.

•Cause his words never come out as he wants.

•So he takes the opportunity to write you sweet notes.

•Will write you notes to leave in places for you to find.

•Fully an attentively listens to you.

•He’s like your little diary, neither of you able to keep secrets from the other.

•Ji having anxiety to he leans on you a lot, you’re such a safe place for him. Someone who calms him down.

•He enjoys simple dates, like taking you shopping and to dinner.

•Movie dates, concert dates for sure.

•Loves seeing you in his clothes especially when you wear them out.

•I know jisung gives off those fuck boy vibes but this man just has so much love to give.

•He may get in his head sometimes but he just very much loves you.

︵‿︵‿୨Smut Below୧‿︵‿︵

•I’m all for sub jisung for sure.

•But this man is a switch.

•The days he’s more dom he’s almost feral.

•You’re not a want but a fucking need.

•He comes home pushing you down on the bed kissing you sloppily.

•Hands roaming your body feeling their way to your hole.

•He whispers in your ear little “be good for me hmm?”

•I’m a firm believer of Ji being so good at oral.

•He’ll get drunk on you.

•I mean he’s so good at everything, and this is no exception

•Can make you climax so fast just with his tongue.

•He’s also so good with his hands.

•Like I said before he knows you so well.

•Know’s every inch of your body and where to touch.

•When he’s fucking you he’s fucking you deep.

•Each movement hits every spot of yours.

•When he’s more dominant he loves fucking you doggy.

•The way he can hit you spots with ease.

•He’ll pull you back to him by your arms holding you there while he fucks you.

•He’s never coherent half the time either.

•”feels good-“ he’d be able to muster out.

•Big moaner. Makes so many noises.

•When he’s more submissive he loves when you pull his hair, or wrap your hand around his throat.

•Also enjoys when you restrain him while riding him.

•The whimpers he’ll let out while you’re riding him- fuck-

•Missionary is one of those positions that just make him weak though.

•The way he gets sloppy body pressed against yours like you’re one.

•Him moaning against your ear as he tries to talk “I- love you” he’d stutter out before cumming.

•After care is so many words but so little.

•You two don’t have to really say much to understand what the other needs.

•Jisung loves just holding you close coming down from your highs asking if you wanna shower.

•Always a nice cool shower full of loving kisses and little giggles.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16

[gothcsz]

part seven of the neighbors series. oh jeez, we are back at it again with another heart wrenching part to this building series. don't ask me where in the timeline this lands because i don't even know—all i do know is that this one hurt me a little more than the others 🖤 as always, thank you to the beautiful anon who sent in this prompt. i love love love creating this with you all 🖤

javier peña x f!reader. ~2k word count. again, nothing too extreme to tag!

“Guess who won dos entradas al cine?” (two tickets to the movie theatre) you sing-song as you approach Javier, a pair of ticket vouchers held triumphantly in your hand and a wide grin lighting up your face. 

Javier looks up from where he’s seated on the edge of the courtyard fountain, the familiar ember of a cigarette glowing between his lips. He narrows his eyes behind his tinted aviators, giving you that signature blend of teasing skepticism. “Who’d you have to flash to get those?” 

You roll your eyes and drop onto the fountain beside him, the cool stone beneath you a welcome reprieve from the heat of the day. “I am offended that you think I’d flash someone for movie tickets.” You cross your legs as you say it, the move shifting the hem of your work dress just high enough to reveal the soft curve of your thighs beneath sheer stockings.

Javier’s gaze dips immediately, a slow drag of his eyes over your legs before his tongue sweeps across his lower lip.

He knows he should stop. Should keep his admiration of you in check. But he can’t. You’re too pretty to not gawk over.

You’re oblivious, like you always are, as you hold the tickets up again, completely lost in your own excitement. “We had this silly competition in the office, and these bad boys were up for grabs.” Your voice is bright and animated, and it’s all he can do not to focus entirely on how alive you look when you’re happy.  

A plume of smoke curls into the air as he exhales, buying himself time. “So, what movie are you gonna go see?” 

You falter for a moment, your confidence dimming ever so slightly as you hesitate. Your teeth catch your lower lip in a nervous habit he’s seen a dozen times and never fails to find endearing, and you glance at him from under your lashes.

That look alone could kill him.

“I’m not sure… actually,” you admit, your voice softening as you toy with the edge of the tickets. The question sits on the tip of your tongue, uncertain.

Is it a good idea to ask him? It’s been weeks since the two of you had a moment to really do anything outside of these stolen midday chats or rushed exchanges in the hallways.

You miss the ease that used to exist between you, but what if he doesn’t feel the same? 

After Javier’s little episode in your apartment during your date, things seem to have settled into a steady, almost predictable rhythm. You’d thought about asking Mateo to join you for this outing, but he’s away on some business trip for the next two weeks.

Things between you two are fine—casual, a few small dates here and there, nothing to write home about. It’s enough to keep your head above water, to keep romantic daydreams about the handsome DEA agent next door from completely taking over. 

You haven’t heard much from Javier’s side of the wall lately either. No muffled moans or the rhythmic creak of his bed frame emphasizing his nocturnal activities.

Out of sight, out of mind, you tell yourself. If you don’t hear him entertaining half of Bogotá, your feelings for him can stay dormant, tucked neatly into the recesses of your heart.

So, you figure it’s harmless to ask him to go to the theater with you this weekend. Friends catch movies together all the time, right? Besides, his life is unpredictable—he could get called into some crisis at a moment’s notice. No pressure.

“I was wondering if you wanted to come with me,” you ask, your voice soft but hopeful. “We can pick the movie when we get there.”

The way you ask, with that shy, almost hesitant charm, makes Javier’s heart do a ridiculous flip. He has to school his expression, keep his face neutral so he doesn’t show just how much your offer delights him. His instinct to tease nearly ruins the moment, though—he’s this close to asking about your little banker boyfriend. 

But instead, he soaks in the fact that it’s him you’re asking, not Mateo.

Whatever the reason, the thought of spending an evening with you—even if it’s just watching a movie—makes him feel like a giddy teenager, like the crush he’s been nursing forever has finally acknowledged him.  

“Makin’ time for me in that busy schedule of yours? I’m flattered, cariño. That sounds like a good time. I’m in,” he replies, taking a slow drag of his cigarette to mask the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You light up instantly, a bright smile spreading across your face. “Tú eres el que siempre está ocupado,” (You're the one who is always busy) you tease, testing the waters with your Spanish.

He huffs a quiet laugh, his dark eyes glinting with approval. “Tienes razón,” (You're right) he concedes, tipping his head in acknowledgment. “You’re gettin’ better and better. Pretty soon, you’re gonna be speakin’ better than me.”

Your cheeks heat at the compliment, and you can’t help the nervous giggle that slips out. “Highly doubt that, but thank you. How does Friday night sound? Meet me in the hallway at six?”

Javier tilts his head, feigning confusion as his brows knit together. “Lo siento, no hablo inglés, ¿puedes repetirlo?” (I'm sorry, I don't speak English. Could you repeat that?)

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as you pause to get your words right. “Encuéntrame en el pasillo a las seis el viernes,” (Meet me in the hallway at six on Friday) you say carefully, hoping you nailed the grammar.

His lips curve into a proud smile, his mustache twitching as he nods in approval. “Te veré allí. Good job, cariño.” (I'll see you there)

It’s almost eight when you knock on Javier’s door, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you wait.

Maybe he got tied up with work—God knows his job has a way of swallowing him whole.

Or maybe it just slipped his mind, which wouldn’t surprise you either; he does have a lot on his plate these days. 

Still, you’d been looking forward to this little outing, putting a little extra effort into your outfit, remembering all the little things that had happened to you during the week to share with him so he could get a good laugh out of them.

You wait a moment longer, but there’s no answer. A small pout tugs at your lips, disappointment sinking in. You tell yourself you saw this coming. It’s Javier, after all—unpredictable, chaotic Javier. You shouldn’t take it personally. 

But the tiny sting of hurt manages to land on that sore spot in your chest with his name tattooed over it. 

It’s okay, you think, pushing the feeling down. You’ll just reschedule. No big deal. It’s not like you don’t have other things to do—there’s that crossword book you picked up earlier to practice writing your Spanish. A quiet evening in doesn’t sound so bad. You’ll catch him later, maybe tease him for standing you up. 

You’ve barely turned the knob on your apartment door when the sound of laughter fills the air—a warm, familiar chuckle that makes your heart leap.

You freeze, turning toward the sound, your excitement flaring to life at the prospect of your plans not being canceled after all.

But the flicker of hope is short-lived. 

The door to the building swings open, and there he is, an arm wrapped possessively around the waist of a stunning woman. She’s tall, effortlessly beautiful with her curly brown hair, her laughter lilting as his lips graze her neck.

Your stomach drops.  

So he hadn’t forgotten because of work. He’d just… forgotten about you. Or chosen not to remember. The realization sears through you, twisting in your chest.

You feel rooted in place, unable to look away as your mind scrambles to catch up. 

Then his eyes find yours.  

The world seems to grind to a halt. Everything else fades—the woman on his arm, the noise of the building, even the ache in your chest.

All that exists is the intensity of his gaze locked with yours. His flirty, careless smile vanishes, replaced by something you can’t quite name. Guilt? Regret?  

It doesn’t matter.  

You wrench yourself away, slipping into your apartment before he can say anything. The door closes with a soft click, and you sag against it, chest heaving as you fight to steady your breath. Your eyes sting, but you refuse to let the tears fall.  

It’s not just that he stood you up. That’s not what makes the embarrassment swell in your throat. It’s that you’d been excited to spend time with him.

That you put in effort to your appearance, that you saved specific topics to discuss solely with him.

You’d allowed yourself to believe that your friendship mattered as much to him as it does to you.

But now, standing here with your heart feeling scraped raw, you’re starting to see it for what it is: your friendship only exists when it’s convenient for him. When there’s no one else in his bed, when he’s not risking his life in the streets.  

You bite down hard on your lip, willing the tears to stay put. You won’t cry for him. Not tonight. Not again.

Like clockwork, three steady knocks land against the door, each one reverberating through your back as you stay pressed against it. You don’t move, your hands curled into fists at your sides.

Should you answer? Or let him stand out there, forgotten as easily as he forgot you?

Your jaw tightens, anger sparking to life in your chest. It tempts you to yank the door open and unleash every ounce of frustration, to scream at him until your voice gives out, until he feels the intensity of all the feelings he stirs inside you.  

But you don’t.  

Instead, you straighten your posture, brushing away the stubborn tears that slipped past your defenses. You take a steadying breath, clearing your throat before finally opening the door.  

“Hola, Javier,” you greet, your tone clipped and flat.  

There he stands, every bit the picture of remorse. His brown eyes are soft, almost pleading, and his hands are shoved in his pockets like he’s trying to make himself smaller. “Cariño, I’m so sorry,” he starts, his voice low and rushed. “I got hung up at the office, then had to go out and vet some leads we got—”  

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a tight smile. “It happens.”  

He flinches at your tone, guilt etched across his face. It’s written in the way his shoulders slump, the way his mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right thing to say. He knows he screwed up. Knows he let you down.  

The truth? He had forgotten. At first, it was the chaos of his job pulling him in a dozen directions, then following up on a tip from Helena.

But when they met at their usual spot, the drinks came easily—too easily. Her attention had been familiar, her touch comforting, and one thing led to another, as it always did with her. He hadn’t thought about anything else until he walked into the building and saw you.  

Until your wide, hurt eyes locked onto his and knocked the breath right out of him.  

“I’m free all day tomorrow,” he says now. “We can reschedule. I’ll even take you out to dinner to make it up to you.”  

There’s something so damn sincere in the way he looks at you, the way his tone drips with regret, that for a split second, you almost cave. Almost.  

But then you remember what’ll happen as soon as he leaves. He’ll go back to his apartment and you’ll have to hear him fuck her.

“No, Javier. Don’t worry about it,” you say firmly, each word clear with resolve. “I’ve got a busy weekend.” It’s a lie, but it feels necessary, a barrier to protect what little dignity you have left.

“Have fun vetting your lead.” You let the words hit their mark.

His expression falters, and you see the exact moment the weight of them sinks in, his lips parting as if to respond, to defend himself, to say something. But you don’t give him the chance.

With a steady hand, you close the door in his face.

The soft click of the latch is louder than it should be, final and resolute. You lean against the wood, staring blankly ahead as the quiet settles around you.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, the fiery ache of anger and something sharper—betrayal—coiling in your chest.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @thundermartini . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @pigeonmama . @piercethevic03 . @marisemonteiroo . @samanthajonees . @yellowbrickyeti . @bambisweethearts . @dontlookatme121 . @cherrysugarx . @half-moon16 . @dinanabuu . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[finelinevogue]

gingerbread men

summary - christmassy vibes fic where you’re baking gingerbread and harry is being his usual self

word count : ~1k

pairing : husband!harry x reader

The front door closed, signalling that Harry’s home.

“Hello, my gorgeous girl.” Harry didn’t say to you, but your black and white cat Circe.

You smiled to yourself as you heard Harry talk to Circe. As Harry greeted your cat, you took out the gingerbread men from the oven and placed them on the side.

The kitchen smelt amazing, full of Christmassy scents like cinnamon and ginger. It was sweet and comforting.

And soon as Harry walked into the kitchen, there was another level of comfort.

He stood in the doorway, holding his car keys and his water bottle, smiling at you. He had this soft smile that he only reserves for you. One that could melt away a thousand problems and make your world feel safe.

“Something smells good.” Harry said, watching the kitchen floor as Circe passed him by.

“I got bored. Decided to bake and voilà… Gingerbread men.”

“You’ve had a productive day then.”

“I actually did. I did the washing and—”

“Well you didn’t wash everything baby.” Harry gave a knowing smirk at the t-shirt you were wearing.

It was the t-shirt Harry’s been wearing to bed for the past week. You were going to add it to the wash, but it smelt of Harry and you missed him today, so wearing a piece of him sounded like a good idea.

“Oh yeah. I’m wearing your t-shirt if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” He glazed his eyes over you, like he often does when he’s having an ‘i-love-y/n’ moment.

“Stop simping for me, you simp, and come and give me a proper hello.” You rolled your eyes at him.

Harry immediately walked over to you, chucking his keys and water bottle on the side. You patiently waited for him to walk over, arms crossed over your chest as you watched him.

He was slow with his movements, but the space wasn’t too far between you. He met you with a kiss on the forehead, wrapping his arms low around your waist so his hands could rest nicely at the bottom of your spine.

“That’s not a proper hello, mister.” You tutted, tilting your head up to look at his looming figure.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he leant down to kiss your cheek once.

“Try again.” You said.

So he kissed your other cheek.

“Harry. I swear to God, if you don’t ki—”

Harry’s lips pressed onto yours before you could finish telling him off. Your lips moved knowingly over each others, pressing yourselves into one another with ease.

Before it could get too heated, Harry pulled away slowly.

“That was better.” You hummed in delight.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, kissing you lightly once again.

“I missed you today.”

“Not as much as I missed you.” He kissed you again, like he couldn’t stop. Like he didn’t want to stop.

“Did you write about me?” You teased.

“I can’t disclose that information yet.”

You groaned in frustration, since that’s all he ever told you about his new album he was working on. You knew it was a gift from himself to the fans, as always, but you often wondered what his inspiration for the day was and how that was channelled into a song.

“You’re so annoying.” You pushed his chest so he stumbled away from you.

“I know, and yet you still love me.” Harry shrugged.

You turned back to your tray of gingerbread men. “Think he could love me better.” You turned around to Harry holding up a gingerbread man to him.

Harry instantly leaned forward and took a great, big, bite out of the gingerbread man’s head. You stood there in shock over his territorial move.

“H-harry!” You laughed his name. “Babe, what the hell?”

“Damn, that’s a good gingerbread man.” Harry wiped his lips with a cheeky grin.

“He’s not a man anymore, you dickhead. He’s a headless body...” You giggled in shock still.

“Would you still love me if I was a headless body?” Harry asked you, finishing off his mouthful.

This would seem like a really random and weird question to anyone else, but these were actually the types of conversations that you two had with each other.

“Yes, ‘cause I wouldn’t have to see your stupid face anymore.”

You threw the headless gingerbread man down on the tray in disbelief.

“Heyy.” Harry pouted.

“No. You’ve done the damage now, babe.” You pretended to be mad.

“This is unbelievable…” Harry mumbled, before stepping to cup your cheeks and pull your lips to his. You instantly responded by moving your lips in sync with his, getting a taste for the remanence of your gingerbread men.

Harry pulled away once he was satisfied that he had been forgiven.

“They are pretty good.” You said with a smile, referring to the gingerbread men.

“Told you.”

[silkythewriter]

hii!! i found your Vox headcanons and i'm very intrigued! i loved the last two and loved them! i've got a request as well, could you maybe do Vox with a singer! reader? one who sings/hums under their breath whenever they get the chance, or even dance when they think they're alone!

Vox with a singer Reader!

( ˘ ɜ˘) ♬♪♫!!

Warnings!: Non!

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel

Author note!: AH HELLO!!! TYSM FOR THE REQUEST PLEASE ENJOY AND FEEL FREE TO REQUEST AGAIN SOON!

Summary!: Vox with a singer reader!

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! &lt;3.❤️

✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

“So I come back to my first note

as I must come back to you

I will pour into that one note

all the love I feel for you”

︎✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

!📺✨Vox✨📺!

Oh my how this man would be entranced by your small tunes

he’s always found comfort in your voice, even when you were just chattering. But now it’s different, the first time a soft melody escaped your lips, let me tell you, he was hooked ever since then.

He found comfort in your soft hum’s, it was such a calming thing, it was a big difference from the hustle and bustle of the over populated hell. A good one at that, it was an escape for him ♥(⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)♥

He’ll always go silent when you’re humming, and you’ll never notice it!. He’ll listen to the soft hum with full attention. Of course he’ll always be careful so you don’t catch on!

he doesn't understand why, but he love’s being discreet when listening to you. Maybe it’s the wya you feel relaxed or let the notes flow more freely from you mouth. He’s not quite sure but he just knows he dose it quite often!

sooner or later though he’ll make it be known that he’s been listening to you. Most likely in a teasing way! Loves seeing you get flustered.

soon he may even join you in your little hums if he knows the melody of the song your humming! It’s always such a love filled moment. Although he maybe, a bit cocky and standoffish here on there he’s always so tender in moments like these. You get to see his soft side in rare and soft moments like these.

Although that doesn’t mean the teasing would stop! He loves teasingly calling you his singing bird, or his Canary. But he also means it in adoring way as well!

Your little songs and voice get stuck in his Tv head constantly, it’s always on loop. He doesn’t Hate it, not at all! But sometimes when you are apart it dose make him miss you.

Whenever he’s about to have a melt down/ lose his absolute shit (Aka he fought alastor once again ( ｰ`дｰ´ ) ) he’ll let his mind put your hums on loop its very much a coping method!, I would say it helps him a good chunk of the time but you might already know the shortness of his temper at times.

if you guys are possible in his living space and in private. he’s all over you, his love for you is watered down in public, but I’m privacy he’s be asking you too hum for him so he could relax! He’d love just to lay down for awhile and only hear you. Just you, no screaming and cussing from the other Two V’s, and no interruptions. As much as he loves building his power and fame, sometimes he needs this to recollect and can get back to working on whatever he was doing with a much more eased mind.(´∀｀)♡

Now! As for dancing and such, he loves watching you glide across the floor with such ease. Whatever dancing or way you move he’ll always find some elegance in it. And as much as he’s into new interventions, and the new “day and age”, he does love to indulge in this old slow dance’s. Look! Hear me out! He’s not old timey, more like appreciates the closeness, and how nice it is to just hold you and slowly dance around the living room, or his office once everyone is out of course!

even if you think no one’s watching he probably is, and as much as he loves to have a certain image of himself to show to the public at all times. He can’t help but put it away when he’s just focusing on you when you guys are alone. He’ll stare at you for how ever long just doting on you in his mind.

sometimes he spaces out cause all he can think of is just you, only you, and trust me the teasing he reserves form Val and Vel is outta this world.

they will never let him live down the time he buffered and glitched because his systems and inner fans were over heating just thinking about you.

if he is every away for business purposes, when he’s sure he’s completely alone, he’ll pull up his phone and dial you up so you can calm him down with your voice. This will NEVER be admitted form him, cause only the lord knows how Val and Vel would absolutely use this against him in a teasingly bullying way. Yea he’ll do everything just so they could shut up. (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵)💧

I feel as though even if he’s proud to be with someone with such an amazing voice like you he’d hate to share it. He loves stomping and showing off to other people, but something like this he just wants to himself, he knows it’s selfish, But this is Vox were talking about, he wouldn’t care.

late nights always end up with him or you on one of each others chest as you hum him to sleep. He finds it comforting to have you near and to know you’re next to him!.

and here and there he’d let you sit on his lap or just next to him as he works. You don’t have to hum, but if you do lord knows it helps the man so much he just doesn’t understand, sometimes he thinks it’s genuinely some type of magic because of the way you make him feel so easily calm.

and yes he dose have a recording of your singing but you won’t see it reach the light of hell cause he keeps it for his own use. A bit creepy? Yes!, but somewhat endearing! Hehe..(｡•́‿•̀｡)💧

his love for you is very much unmatched, and as ironic as it is you always seem to make him lose his breath around you. He doesn’t see you as a weakness but in the same vain is terrified at the possibility of losing you, his only comfort. Sometimes he stresses himself out so bad at the thought of people using you against him or you leaving him, he has problems and most of those he’s not willing to admit he has. Even if you’re powerful, and can take care of yourself he still always finds a way to worry sometimes and at times like that you just have to remind him you’re there. Verbally or physically, but you can take a guess at the best way to sooth him

if your comfortable with it!, he’d wouldn’t even put music on when dancing just the two of you humming.

even if your not he still find you graceful call it heart shaped glasses but he’ll always find a way to complement you on the littlest of things.

he could be at a business deal with the nest biggest singer in hell and still he wouldn’t think they could top you in billions of years.

Again revisiting my point where I said he wouldn’t want to share your voice, he most definitely would snap if anyone just barged in his office (cough, Val cough, Velevet, cough!, sorry must be sick or something! ( ๑‾̀ ◡ ‾́)..) He’d kick them out immediately if it wasn’t something of importance (or what he seems to be important)

velvet always teases him by saying he’s up in the clouds ever since he’s met you which… yea you cant defend him there…

may the angels have mercy on your vocal cords cause as you can see you gonna be humming to him most of the time you are alone! ♫꒰ ･‿･๑꒱

Overall! please just hum softly with him and dance with this man! It’s his favorite bonding time. He’d give up everything to hear your voice for the rest of eternity. He doesn’t always show it cause of his status but trust me when I say he’s always and constantly thinking and loving you. And the more you dance softly together and spend nights humming together the more that grows! He loves you to no end. ˉ̞̭(′͈∨‵͈♡)˄̻ ̊…

✰𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹𖦹✰

THAT WAS SO FUN TO WRITE (♡ >ω< ♡) Vox is so fun to write for! SO THANK YOU TO EVERYONE AND YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING HIM \(^ヮ^)/ I really hope you enjoy! Please request again! :D.

[becomingmina]

I need smthing with Felix getting angry at u for going out and getting drunk n he broke his promise of not going to bed mad but he makes up for it in the morning

MAD. anon request w/ LEE FELIX.

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: felix x female reader genre + warnings: established relationship, light angst, light suggestive at the end, reader cries wc: 1.7k mina's notes: spin on it a little bit I think Y/N should be make it up to him hehe because lix is perfect and he deserves to be shower in affection and love

mad master list here ; other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

“Are you mad at me?” You draped your arm across your boyfriend’s stomach as he laid on the bed. He doesn’t reply, just staring up at the ceiling.

“Felix?” You rub his abs, trying to butter him up with your touches to ease the tension. He hasn’t touch you back or spoken to you since you got home so you know something was up.

“What do you think Y/N?” he replies sternly.

“I’m sorry,” you reply, pecking his cheeks.

“Stop,” he turns to his side removing your hand off him in the process.

“But I’m sorry,” you only moved closer to him letting your chest press against his back. Arms around his waist again, snuggling your face on the back of his neck.

“Stop it Y/N,” Felix snaps and you remove yourself completely off of him, sitting up in the process. “I told you that we can spend all evening together but you just had to go out and get drunk,” Felix continued and you feel your chest start to grow heavy. Oh yeah, he was angry.

“That’s not it. You then called me to pick you up, knowing that I have to wake up early. You know how needy and difficult you are when you’re drunk?! Weren’t you the one who was begging for time together all week? Well here goes your precious time!” You couldn’t see him but you know his jaw is clenched and his brows are furrowed. He has never yelled at you like this before and the aftermath of the shots you took before wasn’t helping you stay calm.

“I’m sorry Felix, I just missed you,” you replied back, unsure of what to do in a situation like this, you started hugging him again but Felix continued to push off your touches.

“Just go sleep! You’re so annoying!” You retracted your actions.

“Okay.” You replied softly almost a whisper, feeling defeated. And with that you laid back on the bed, turning over letting your backs face each other’s.

You tucked your hands in the crook of your neck as you stare at the wall. You know he was upset with you but the way he lashed out like this hurt you, especially when you’re intoxicated. Tears fall from your eyes as you replay the scenario. All day he’s been occupied on his laptop, head phones in as he works on his new song. You’ve tried to make him eat but he refuses every time and when you go near him he scoots away further. You thought you were being a good girlfriend letting him have the apartment to himself by going out with the other boys’ girlfriends. But you see how you went wrong when you got drunk and then called him to come get you. And not just that, you understand how difficult you get when you’re intoxicated, having Felix help you with everything - taking off your shoes, removing your make up, everything. Usually he would love to but he had so much work and stressed piled up. It was your fault he’s mad, you are annoying you got it, but only because you missed your boyfriend.

You tried your best to keep your composure but not having your Felix hold you to sleep or reassure you that you guys can sort this all out later, makes you break down, sniffles leaving your nose.

He was never this angry, he never yelled at you. Felix was always the one who fixed the issue on the spot. Never had he let you go sleep without a resolution as he knew how much it will played in your heads.

Felix was exhausted, he was done for the day. Your actions really put him on edge today and he needed you to understand he can’t always give into you. He closes his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He hates to go to sleep like this but quite honestly, he was exhausted, soon drifting into sleep. You stay up a bit longer, unable to stop replaying the situation in your head and also hoping he’ll turn around to hug you. But he never did and eventually your body gave in to sleep as well.

His alarm woke you up, the phone vibrating the bed. You opened one eye searching for the time, it was still pretty dark outside the blinds. It was only 5am, two hours since you both went to bed. You couldn’t even open your eyes probably, fatigue still taking over. You feel guilty knowing Felix would have been more tired than you. You hear him shuffle around on his side of the bed, the linen touching each another as he reaches for his phone, pausing the alarm then placing it back on the bed. You can still hear the sheets move about for a while until silence again.

You wanted to make it up to him, just something, a small gesture to say you’re sorry. Usually he gets up earlier before he has to leave, to eat so he’s not too sensitive on the way to work. You wanted to make it up to him with pancakes, allowing him to sleep in a tiny bit more. You hear his alarm ring again and you turn around to locate his phone but it was on the other side of him. Not wanting to reach over him afraid he’s going to around to wake up or get mad at you again, you got up from bed to walk around. As you reach for his phone, he opens his eyes and grabs your wrist pulling you back into bed with him.

“Hey baby,” he said gently, pulling you close to him, arm wrapped around your back as you both face each other.

“Hi,” you sniffled back, still cautious of how he was feeling.

“You okay?” His tone was ever so sweet making sure not to feed into the tension anymore.

“Mhmm,” you nodded but the corner of your lips pulled down. A wash of emotions runs over you again at how gentle he is being with you even though you were in the wrong.

“Hey Y/N, are you okay?” He asked again, through heavy eye lids, knowing well you were still so sad.

“No, I’m sorry, Lix I,” you started to rumble, tears falling on your face, feeling guilty of everything you did to him yesterday.

“Shhh I know. You’re sorry. I forgive you okay?” He cuts you off, knowing it’s not fully your fault, you just wanted to spend time with him.

“I didn’t mean to annoy you last night.”

“It’s okay baby. I’m sorry too,” one hand comes to your cheek to wipe away your tears as he gave you a small smile.

“No, you shouldn’t be,” you reply starting to relax a little bit, having your boyfriend speak to you again.

“No, I’m sorry for not giving you any attention yesterday and I’m sorry I yelled at you, you’re not annoying,” his hand starts to run through your hair, giving you more reassurance. “And I’m sorry for going to bed mad, it’s something I know I should have never done. You probably felt so hurt.”

“A little,” you chuckle softly, giving him a smile.

“I promise I still love you. It’s just work. I’m drowning but I have no right to get mad at you.”

“Lix it’s ok. I forgive you,” you peck his nose, leg hoisting over his thigh, hand sliding under his shirt finding its place on his bare stomach. Something about physically touch during the most quiet hours of the day both made your hearts soft. Your heart fluttered at these small moment.

“Yeah?” Felix replied placing a kiss to your forehead, the tension fully eased now.

“Hmmm, ofcourse. But you should get up. Maybe you can hop on the shower while I make you pancakes. I don’t want you to be late,” you trace circles to his bare back, admiring how pretty he looks even at his tired state, he can barely open his eyes back at you.

“The boys cancelled it for today. Seems like they were also upset at their girlfriends hey? They running one 2 hours sleep like me,” he giggles raising his eyebrows giving you a cheeky look, as fingers draws circles on your thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you giggle back, just getting lost in his big bright eyes.

“Can you make it up to me though?” He asked, flicking his eyes from your eyes to your lips then back up, silently asking you to kiss him.

“Yeah I can,” you move closer to his face, lips just grazing onto of his just to tease him for little bit. You let out a chuckle when you see him move his head forward to chase your lips. You give in, pressing your lips to his plump ones. The kiss started of gentle, soft but soon after Felix was kissing you back harder. He was so needy, one hand coming to the back of your head as he locks you in place and the other grazing the skin under your shirt. The room was filled with the sounds of your tongues in dancing in other’s mouth exchanging salvia and the little moans that you both fail to keep inside.

“I missed you. You feel so soft baby,” Felix says in between the kisses before pulling back so you both can catch a breath. You look at him, unable to control your silly smile and he returns back the same dorky look.

“But I’m not fully happy yet baby, you know what you can do to make it up to me?” He asks almost shy the way his eyes flicker around unable to hold contact.

“What is it?”

“Move your leg higher,” and you obeyed, moving it slightly above his thighs. “A little bit more,” And this time he helps you drape your legs over his groin area, hitting something hard in the process. Your eyes widen at the contact, his hard on was now pressing against your thigh. He just smiles, cheeks a bit pinks as he’s patiently waiting for you to take initiative. You can’t help but smile at his cuteness, leaning in forward to kiss him again as your hand is now palming him ontop of his pants.

Song of the day 🎧

[pumpkinbxtch]

ᬊ Serenade ᬊ

— LEO VALDEZ X FEM!READER

─────────────•~❉᯽❉~•────────────

─────────────•~❉᯽❉~•────────────

☆ radiostar is playing... paloma querida by josé alfredo jiménez!

warnings; language, a pinch of angst with comfort at the end. a/n; I wanted to do this one so much, I finally got to finish it, I hope you like it. The translation of the song is below each verse, as well as the vocabulary at the end.

— You know what? Go to hell!

You slammed the bedroom's door behind you, trying to shut it with a bang, but Leo managed to catch it with his hand to follow you. Although in fact, it wasn't to try to solve the things.

He let out a loud huff when he saw you grabbing your keys and your things.

— Well, actually you’re the one leaving so, why don’t you just go there and give me the address later?

The regret was immediate, but he was just as angry and ignored it. For a second, he feared for everything as you turned back to him with flared nostrils and a frown, your eyes starting to tear up.

— If that's how things are. Good, then I won’t have to come back to this dump. — You threw the keys at his face and left with a door slam that echoed in the apartment.

Within two seconds, Leo was already running down the stairs, shouting your name, but it was too late when he saw your car turning the corner, almost leaving a trail of fire on the pavement. Feeling down, he ran his hands through his curly hair and sighed.

Who started the fight? It was hard to tell, but maybe Leo's response wasn’t the best. Actually, it had been the worst of all their fights, and he saw that reflected in the way you left. You two weren’t the type of couple to fight with sharp words, so this was almost like saying he’d rather see you dead.

— I’m- uh que pendejo¹ ! —he exclaimed, throwing himself onto the couch and complaining while rolling around. How would he apologize now? This time, flowers or a card saying "Sorry for being an idiot" wouldn’t cut it, and even if it did, he knew you deserved more.

Then he had an idea, triggered by a memory from his days in that old neighborhood when his mom was still alive. He could remember that place was lively, colorful, and sometimes noisy because people like his mom and him lived there, never letting a place so far from home feel as cold and foreign as it actually was. And there was something moms and grandmas children would do for on their birthdays, big block parties, or even when there were small couple fights: a serenade seemed like the ace up the sleeve to ease the pain and give a heartfelt apology. For Leo, that was fair.

Where would he get mariachis? But that was the least of his worries. He’d done more impossible things than finding a mexican musical group in the middle of the night.

— Hephaestus, help me — he muttered -almost like a prayer- as he put on his green military jacket and grabbed the keys you had thrown at him earlier. The raccoon keychain wearing a Camp Half-Blood shirt left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Before leaving, the candle illuminating the picture of his mom on the shelf next to the TV flickered intensely, catching his attention, and he took that as a response from his dad that was something like: " I Pass, I’ve had enough with my wife," and he honestly understood what he meant. One thing was a fight, another was being cheat repeatedly.

He turned off the lights and fearlessly wandered around to find his grand musical apology.

You were curled up in your bed with a frown and some tears in your eyes. You never thought any of your fights would reach this point, even if Leo's response had been in a joking manner, fighting with him was already too much for your heart. You wondered if this was the beginning of the end, if he was really angry, or if his response was an expression of how tired he was of you.

Were you done? 'cause you had thrown the keys at his face and had no way of getting back into that place.

Your anxiety flooded your body, and a slight tremor in your lip kept asking you to finally release the tears you had held back. Would you go to bed this sad and empty? Even the mattress seemed too big without him by your side.

You turned to switch off your bedside lamp when you heard a small object bounce against your window. You turned around and nervously played with the laces of your hoodie. Was it him? You looked at the clock and could see through your blurry eyes that it was around 2 AM. No way Leo could be here at this hour, maybe it had just been the wind

You turned to reach the switch when the sound repeated, and before you could get up, two more pebbles hit the glass. At the foot of your window, before opening the curtain, you heard a whistle and some trumpets starting to play.

— Amor!

You opened your eyes wide and clumsily pulled out the curtain. What you saw through the glass left you speechless. There were mariachis, about seven of them, and Leo was there with a bouquet of roses, waving his hand at you. When you opened the window, he smiled broadly, though there was a noticeable hint of shame.

— FORGIVE ME, MI AMOR — he shouted, cupping his hand to his mouth to amplify his voice, and you, speechless, kept watching the scene. Your boyfriend turned around and gave some instructions to one of the mariachis, who nodded and started a count of three. The music began, and not only did the singer's voice echo in the street, but so did Leo's.

— Yo no sé lo que valga mi vida. Pero yo, te la vengo a entregar.

( I don’t know what my life is worth, but I’m here to give it to you!)

You smiled. You couldn’t understand much from the distance, but the way he clutched his chest with each word made you tear up.

— yo siento quererte... con todas las fuerzas que el alma me da.

(I feel I love you with all the strength my soul can give...)

Leo impatiently gestured for them to continue while he looked for a way to climb up to your window. Though the vines weren’t entirely safe, he decided to risk it.

— Paloma querida! — he shouted off-key as he walked on the roof, short of breath, and beneath your window, he stood on tiptoe to hand you the roses. You leaned on your stomach to grab the flowers wrapped in red cellophane, and without taking your eyes off him, you smelled them.

He stepped back enough for you to see each other clearly. Again, he placed his hand over his heart and with a sincere smile mouthed, "I’m sorry."

What felt like seconds were actually minutes until the song change brought both of you back to reality. You leaned out to be a bit closer to him, and he jumped up to barely kiss your lips.

— No that, dummy! — you said giggling, nodding towards the group who continued playing with smiles, seeing that the serenade had achieved its goal. — The neighbors, Leo.

Leo raised his eyebrows and pointed to the front of your house, where people in nightgowns peeked from their windows, and some kids were dancing. An elderly couple watched the scene with tender eyes. Apparently, there were no complaints, so everything seemed cool.

He bowed without taking his eyes off you, and opening his hand in the air, let the keys jingle sweetly. You smiled, and he mimicked you.

— I love you.

— Te amo más.³

❉᯽❉

¹ que pendejo: I'm an asshole!

² paloma querida: dear dove; It's the name of the song translated to eng, an expression too or a kind of petname

³ te amo más: I love you more

⁴ amor, amor mio, mi amor: love, love of mine, my love.

[impishjesters]

I’m devouring the nonsexual intimacy with Jax dawg- oml we eatin good

How would Jax be with an s/o who enjoys leaning on him? I adore physical touch but sometimes if I can’t use my arms it feels like I’m trapped, so it’s nice to just glomp people lmao (s/o is ticklish too- Jax would have a field day with that one)

If you need a little more substance, maybe s/o like randomly serenading Jax in private! Like those old 80s jazz love songs (complete with slow dancing)

Thank you and have a wonderful day/night!

Leaning on one another

warning(s): none unless you count jazz note(s): I joke about it but I actually quite like jazz, maybe not all jazz but it's definitely not the worst type of music. I'm looking at you country music.... A/N: I included a bonus because I thought the idea of cornering this man in his room with jazz music was absolutely hilarious lol

Jax doesn’t have a physical battery per say, but there is definitely a limit to how much he can tolerate at a given time—whether it’s in public or private.

He doesn’t like sitting still for long periods of time and there’s a limit to how vulnerable he’s willing to be at any given time if at all.

So having a s/o that understands this and goes for physical touch like leaning on him or something that’s not inherently seen as romantic and mushy is a win in his book.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves you but it’s a lot and he’s not really used to it. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact you two are dating, that you like him.

He’s all for being leaned on or having you loosely hang off him in public, sometimes regardless of what side of him you’re leaning on, he might lean back.

Little shit might only catch himself though if you can’t hold him/he catches you off guard and/or lose your footing, he’ll make the attempt to stick an arm out and catch you—but whether you crash or not depends on your own reflexes. (he doesn’t make the rules, sorry babe)

If you wanna be held but not feel restricted, as long as he’s not doing anything he’ll let you stand in front of him, lean back, and drape his arms over you—totally not to just lean on you and be an absolute menace.

In fact, that’s probably how he found out you were ticklish—and that knowledge is far too much power in his hands.

Sure he can do it whenever he wants, but he tends to save it for other unsuspecting situations—like if the two of you get into a little spat and you’re not speaking to him—two can play that game.

He won’t completely restrict your arms but he’ll throw his arms around you and tickle you, it doesn’t always work to ease whatever the spat was about.

That said Jax doesn’t do it when the situation is serious and calls for an actual discussion, he knows at least that much when it comes to reading the room. (That and you’ve probably gotten onto him about it at least once before…)

He also may or may not have tickled you to get you up, you don’t need to sleep but you can still lie down and whatnot. And if you aren’t budging? Tickle time baby.

Bonus

Jax isn’t a dancer by any means, so when he opens the door to his room to find you standing there with music that’s—very much not the repetitive cartoony music that usually plays in this hellscape—he’s a little surprised.

The first question out of his mouth is:

“Is that fucking jazz?”

“No, just normal jazz.”

That response gets a good hearty chuckle out of him.

When you try pulling him in for a dance he’s a little nervous though it comes off as looking irritated, he’s uh, never danced to jazz of all things let alone with someone else.

You’re gonna have to take the reigns on this one, regardless of whether you can dance or not, you started this.

Despite the fact it is jazz playing, he enjoys the situation as a whole, your weight leaning on him the subtle holding one another. And the fact it’s in private? He can comfortably(ish) let himself feel a little vulnerable around you with no risk of having an audience.

Regardless of the fact it’s jazz, if you happen to sing along he considers himself impressed and will jokingly (read: obnoxiously) comment how he feels utterly serenaded, completely wooed, absolutely swooning—it goes on until you stop him, please stop him he’ll just keep going.

[writingforstraykids]

I owe you a kiss Pt.3

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 2420

Summary: Whilst Minho and you grow closer his relationship to Chan is strained, suffering from all the responsibility he has to carry for the group. You want nothing more than your boys to work things out..

Warnings/Tags: angst, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, soft!min, mention of blood

A/N: I already know you guys will hate me, but I promise there'll be more in a week🥺🖤

PART TWO | PART FOUR

Two months later

You giggle softly as Minho pulls you into his arms and sways you through the kitchen. A sappy love song starts playing in the background. He pulls you in as close as he can, humming along to the tune, and rests his head against yours. You know, he had a long day, organizing their group's schedules and deciding what would happen now and what would wait until Chan was back. You let him take the lead and feel him relax, his breathing calming against your chest. Minho turns his head a little, planting soft kisses on your cheek, and you can feel him smile. “I love you, honey,” he whispers.

“I love you too, darling,” you whisper right back and turn to look at him. Your breath hitches at how soft and in love he looks. “I’m proud of you.”

“Hm?” he hums in confusion, still swaying softly. 

“I know how hard it is to manage everything without Channie at the company. It’s not what you signed up for,” you tell him gently. 

“He’s my husband, I’ve signed up for it the minute I let him love me,” he smiles tiredly.

“I know, but never alone before,” you remind him gently. “You’re doing great, darling. Chan and I are very proud of you.”

He smiles gently and brushes his nose against yours. “Thank you, baby.” His phone rings, and you can instantly see the stress flooding his face. It's a little worrying to see him dripping with the same exhaustion you only knew from Chan so far. You gently ease it from his pocket and smile, showing him the screen. “Oh,” he smirks and gives you an apologetic smile before taking the call. “Hi, Channie love,” he says, giving you a kiss and quickly going upstairs. You watch him with a soft smile, glad Chan has called at this very moment. The three of you worked out a rhythm with calling quite quickly; one day Minho, one day you, one day the two of you. This allowed you all to keep your personal relationship with Chan, as well as your marriage, intact.

“Hi, kitten,” Chan says sweetly.

Minho throws himself onto the bed with a soft grunt and stares at the ceiling. “How are you? Had a nice day?”

“Yeah, Hannah and I are about to go for a drive, she said she knows a nice place for dinner,” Chan tells him and shuffles through his old bedroom, searching for his sweater. “I'm good, actually.”

“That’s nice,” Minho smiles and turns to his side, trying to keep his eyes open. He realizes too late that he's been silent for too long. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Chan speaks up again. “How are you holding up?” he asks gently. “I hope the kids are supporting you well?”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “Felix is hovering, Hannie and Changbin are busier than ever, Innie and Seungmin are getting on my nerves as much as they can, and Hyunjin took over most of my work with new dances.”

“Crazy as always then,” Chan giggles, and Minho’s heart hurts at the so dearly missed sound. 

“When are you coming back?” he asks quietly after a moment and bites his lower lip hard. Dumbass. “I don’t want to stress you, just wanna know.”

Chan is quiet for a while after that, and Minho closes his eyes, growing frustrated as tears well up in them. “I-I don’t know, Min,” he confesses.

“Mhm, okay,” is all he manages to say, trying not to start crying right here on the spot. He misses him so much that it’s getting a little too much lately.

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Chan huffs. 

“I said I’m not,” Minho insists. 

“Stop lying,” Chan tells him, sharper than he had intended to. “You’re pissed you have to work double while I’m having fun out here.”

“I’m not…Channie,” Minho says firmly and sits up. “I’m too tired for this bullshit, seriously.”

“Mhm, okay, fine then,” Chan grumbles. “Sorry for calling.” 

“Chan,” Minho snaps. “I was asking because I fucking miss you,” he bursts out.

“If you miss me so much, you could just visit, you know,” Chan says, not really knowing why he’s so pissed either. 

“I can’t just disappear right now and leave them all hanging,” Minho argues weakly. “We're already behind.”

“If you’re so busy then what’s the point in me visiting, huh?” Chan asks sourly.

“Visiting? Is that what we’re calling home now? Is that all your husband and wife are now? A visit?” he snaps, tears finally falling down his cheeks. “Seriously, Chan?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Okay, you have five seconds to calm the fuck down, or I’m ending this call,” Chan says calmly. “I don’t know when I’ll come back, Minho, because honestly, I don’t feel like it right now. And if that is all that’s waiting for me, then I don’t know if I want to.”

Minho hangs up on him and sits still for a moment before throwing his phone onto the floor forcefully. He hears the screen cracking and winces softly but doesn’t bother to pick it back up. 

You race up the stairs and rip the door open, blinking at him, confused. “What was that?” you ask, speaking of the loud thump his phone made.

“My phone,” he says, and you glance down at it lying on the floor.

“What’s wrong?” you ask worriedly, spotting the tears in his eyes.

“Nothing,” he snaps at you. “Your husband is an asshole, that’s all!”

“Which one?” you ask calmly and raise your eyebrows at him. 

He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that you're not his enemy. “Both,” he says sourly. “But your Australian one in particular.”

You chuckle softly and make your way over, stopping in front of the edge of the bed. You soothingly run your hand through his hair and watch him thoughtfully. “He's not coming back yet, is he?”

“No,” Minho whispers and stubbornly stares at the mattress. “I know I was the one saying he should go, but-it's too much.”

“What is?” you ask patiently, wanting him to voice his thoughts. 

“Y/nnie,” he sighs softly. “Not now, please. Now I just wanna be pissed and sulk a little.”

You hum gently and brush back his hair. “Need some time alone?”

“Yeah,” he nods and flashes you an apologetic smile. You both know he'll get rid of his frustration more quickly if you don't see how shitty he feels. 

“That's okay,” you tell him and cup his face, kissing his forehead. “I'm taking you out for dinner tonight, yeah? Just us two at that place downtown you love.”

“Okay,” he smiles weakly and squeezes your hips for a brief moment before letting go of you. He watches you leave before falling back onto the mattress. Staring up at the ceiling, he thinks back to their conversation, and his throat tightens up painfully. Tears burn in his eyes, and he curses at himself quietly. “Stop being so fucking dramatic,” he tells himself and blinks them away. 

You glance up from your spot on the sofa as Minho comes downstairs only minutes later. “That was fast?”

“I won't ruin our date night,” Minho announces as he makes his way over. He stops in front of you and timidly tugs at his sleeve. “Also, I need a hug.”

Your smile softens, and you gently pat the space next to you. A surprised giggle leaves your lips as Minho places himself in your lap instead, burying his face in your shoulder. You soothingly rub his back and hug him tight, gently rocking him in your arms. “I love you, Minnie.”

“I love you too,” he says softly. 

“And Channie does as well, yeah?” you ask, and your heart drops as Minho doesn't answer. You gently pull him back, spotting tears in his eyes. “Oh, darling, that bad?”

Minho shakes his head and lowers his gaze. “I'm tired as hell. That only makes it worse.”

“Wanna tell me what happened?” you ask gently, and Minho gives in and tells you about his argument with Chan. 

“I know I was overreacting, but he pissed me off,” Minho sighs as he's done. 

“You were a little. But so was he,” you chuckle. 

“You're married to two idiots, I'm sorry,” Minho chuckles weakly and sighs. “Okay, come on.”

“We don't have to go if you're not feeling up for it,” you assure him. “We can order in, watch a movie or something.”

“No, if my beautiful wife wants to go out for a date, that's what she gets,” he shakes his head and smiles at you sweetly. You blush a little, which gives him the opportunity to kiss you fiercely. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile. 

-

Minho's gentle fingers brush against your skin as he laces up your dress in the back. As he's done, his eyes meet yours in the mirror, and they instantly soften, as they always do. His hands find your hips, and he leans down, pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. “You're so beautiful.”

You blush softly and chuckle at yourself for still getting flustered after all those years. “Min,” you say sweetly. 

“Don't even try to deny it,” your husband giggles and pulls you against his body. “I love you so much, never forget that, yeah?”

“How could I?” you ask, amused, and cover his hands with yours. “You're unforgettable Min, in every way,” you say and turn in his arms to face him. “My sweet Minho.”

A beautiful smile tugs at his lips, bunny teeth showing as he gives in to the feeling. It travels to his eyes, makes them sparkle so prettily, and you can't help but mirror his smile. He gently caresses your cheek and pulls you into a soft, loving, tender kiss. “My beloved Y/nnie,” he whispers against your lips. 

-

Not much later, you're at the restaurant and Minho seems to cheer up, chewing happily on his food. You giggle at him fondly. “You're so cute.”

He looks almost offended and quickly swallows. “Ey, I have a reputation.”

“Forget it,” you snort. “Everyone who could see you like that would agree with me.”

“Stay always agrees with you when you write those stupid little captions,” he snorts and takes the next bite, doing a little happy wiggle in his seat. His eyes widen as he catches himself doing so, and you start laughing. “Oh fuck off,” he laughs.

You giggle adoringly, and the two of you exchange a soft smile. “You're pretty.”

“Will you stop now?” he asks softly, slowly blushing. 

“Never. You're too cute,” you tease him. 

“Do I have to remind you again why we have two chopsticks and two eyes?” he threatens you jokingly. 

“No, thank you,” you laugh and glance down as your phone pings with a message. Channie. 

Minho notices you hesitating for a moment. “Go on,” he urges you gently. 

Channie angel❣��: Hey there, my beautiful baby, hope you're doing alright. Don't tell Minnie, but I'll be back for his birthday in two weeks. I love you so so much and can't wait to see you again!🌹🖤

You: Oh, that's exciting!!! I won't tell him a word, promise❤️

You:…but you should text him, Channie angel, he's hurt🥺💔

Channie angel❣️: I'll call him as soon as I'm back at my parents’ place. Enjoy your night out, baby🖤

Channie angel❣️: Tell him I love him. 

You look up from your phone and swallow softly, seeing Minho glancing at his broken screen timidly. “Darling?”

“Yeah?” he asks and puts on a warm smile for you. 

“Chan says he loves you,” you tell him, and Minho's smile falters a little in surprise. “He wants to call later.”

“Okay,” he nods gently. “Thank you.”

“You'll be okay?” you ask him worriedly and reach for his hand across the table. 

“Always,” he promises and brings up your hand to his lips, kissing it. “He can act stupid all he wants, I have you right here tonight.”

You chuckle, amused, and squeeze his hand. “Don't give up on him, yeah? I know it's not easy at the moment…but he still loves you.”

“I know,” Minho assures you gently. 

“You two are at your best when you're working together,” you tell him and search his eyes. “He loves you, no matter what.”

Minho nods gently, not wanting to get emotional out here in public. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Any time,” you smile at him softly. “Let's go home, cuddle?”

Minho's face breaks into a beautiful, soft smile, and you study his features as if you'd want to engrave this picture in your brain forever. “Let's go home,” he nods. 

-

Chan barely steps into his room as his phone rings with Minho's signature tune. He frowns softly, wondering why he was calling him now when he told him he would. Chan takes the call and braces himself. “Hey, Minho.”

“Channie,” Minho sobs into the phone and Chan's throat tightens at the broken sound. 

“Baby?” he asks worriedly. 

“I'm sorry, I fucked up. Fucked up so bad,” Minho rambles through tears, pacing the bathroom. “I swear I didn't mean to.”

Chan frowns softly, and he stops in front of his bed. “Minho, it's okay, it wasn't that bad, hm? It was just a small fight.” he tries softly, and a high-pitched sound leaves Minho's lips. Minho sinks to the floor, breathing heavily, and pulls his legs up to his chest as his shock takes over. Chan picks up on it and sits down at the edge of his bed. “Can we switch to a video call?” What the hell? 

“O-Okay,” Minho sobs and accepts the call. 

Chan's heart drops to his stomach as he sees him. Tears stream down his face, and he looks terrified. Truly terrified. There's blood on his shirt, there's blood on the hand he uses to try and wipe away his tears. “Minho, fuck, where are you?”

“Hospital” is all he gets out. 

“Why, what…Minho, where's Y/N?” he asks, his stomach tightening in fear at the pained sound that leaves Minho when your name is mentioned. “Min?”

Minho's breathing picks up, and he clutches the fabric of his pants tightly, trying to steady himself. “Someone crashed into our car, I-I swear it wasn't my fault. T-The airbag didn't open a-and-,” he breaks off with a sob. “Channie, there was so much blood,” he whimpers. 

“Where's Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible, blank fear taking over him.

PART TWO | PART FOUR

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @kailee08 @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaasia111 @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland

[timetodecidedjo]

“I’m ready to serve my after school detention, Mr. Howlett,” Wade said in a sing-song way that stopped Logan in his tracks. He had been clearing off the chalkboard in his classroom as part of his end of the school day routine. His final class had just let out a mere 15 minutes before, so now it was time to stay behind and prep the classroom for the following day’s classes. Since moving into the mansion to teach, Wade and Logan had kept their relationship a secret from the students. It wasn’t something that Logan had any interest in sharing, only with the students of course, so they had to be mindful when they were around each other in the common areas. Logan continued to clear off the last remaining chalk dust from the old green chalkboard and put the eraser back into its place.

“You should probably be serving your detention in Colossus’ class,” Logan replied dryly. “I hear you’re somewhat of a problem student there.”

“Well it’s hard to pay attention to anything he says when I’m busy wishing you were my teacher,” Wade grinned, using his fingers to draw circles onto Logan’s shoulder.

“Wade,” Logan signed as his husband began fiddling with the hemline of the mutant’s shirt. “What if one of the students comes back in here?”

“We’ll have ole Charlie wipe their memory,” Wade argued back, a lustful look in his eyes. “You worry too much.”

Wade shoved himself in between Logan’s body and the board so that he could lightly push the mutant into his desk just behind him. He slid one of his freezing hands underneath his husband’s olive green shirt, the one that complimented Logan’s gorgeous green eyes so perfectly, and brushed it up against his warm skin.

“If they were living back at home with their parents, they’d probably walk in on one of them anyway. What’s less traumatic? Walking in on your parents getting it on or your hot teacher?”

Logan rolled his eyes, all in good fun, and felt a smile form on his face before he decided to give into Wade just enough to hopefully appease him. It’s not like he didn’t want to kiss the Merc, he always did, but there had to be some rules around the mansion, especially where students could be. The mutant leaned in to kiss his husband's lips, their mouths only touching for just a moment.

“Such a tease,” Wade groaned, the one small kiss not being enough for his appetite, especially when Logan looked so good in the natural light from the window of the classroom.

“Don’t you have to go cause trouble somewhere else?” Logan asked as he wiggled himself out of Wade’s space so that he could get to the other side of his desk. “You might actually have detention with Colossus for not labeling your food in the refrigerator for the 100th time.”

“Well can I at least have a little something to get me through the rest of the afternoon until tonight? You know how fussy I get when I don’t have enough Logi kisses in the day.”

The Wolverine hesitantly put his hand out to pull his better half in for one final kiss, this one being much steamier than the last. Logan had slipped his tongue into Wade’s mouth with ease and his hand was gripped firmly around the merc’s waist. The kiss turned into kisses, hands began to roam, and breathing became laborious as they stood there pressed against each other in the middle of Logan’s classroom. The rest of the world didn’t matter when Wade and Logan were in each other’s arms. It was just the two of them.

“Mr. Howlett, can I ask a question about the midterm this—“ a small voice inquired from the doorway, stopping the two men from taking this make out session any further.

Logan quickly pushed Wade off and away from him, wiping the remnants of his husband’s saliva off his mouth with the back of his hand. He could feel the embarrassment fill his chest and the blood swell in his cheeks, his skin a bright red in color. Wade, of course, thought it was quite hilarious that they had been caught swapping spit in front of a student, the very thing Logan was worried about.

“I’m…I’m so sorry… Mr. Howlett… Mr. Wilson… I can come back another time. I didn’t mean to—“ the student blurted out as she backed out of the doorway and ran out. The two men looked at each other and then Logan covered his face with his hands, utterly embarrassed beyond belief.

“I’ll go find the professor…” Wade muttered, secretly laughing to himself at the whole ordeal. Worth it.

[ireneanon]

Comfort

Red Velvet Irene x fem reader

Irene’s solo debut was coming closer and closer and while she felt confident in herself (the whole theme of the comeback), she couldn’t help but to constantly feel like there was something missing every time she looked at it.

The dorm was silent, after making small talk, Wendy decided to let Irene work and went to sleep, leaving only the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the furniture. Irene sat at the dining table, her laptop glowing softly in front of her. She had been staring at the schedule for what felt like hours, her thoughts swirling with doubt and frustration. The comeback preparations were well underway, but something about it felt off to her. Was it the choreography? The concept? The songs? She couldn’t pinpoint it, and the uncertainty was driving her insane.

Her phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with a message from you, “how’s everything going, Joohyun? need a break?” Irene’s lips curved into a small smile, but it quickly faded as she typed back a short reply, “I’m fine, Just busy.”

“Busy” was an understatement, Irene thought, running a hand through her hair. The weight of not only the fans but her own expectations felt heavier with every passing day. The fans, the company, her members, were all counting on her to deliver perfection. Her phone buzzed again.

“I know that ‘I’m okay’ means you’re not okay. talk to me, Joohyun.”

Irene sighed, staring at the message. She knew you weren’t one to give up easily, especially when it came to her, she loved that about you. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to brush you off again or admit the truth. Before she could decide, another message popped up.

“you don’t have to worry in silence, im always here for you, you know that.”

That simple line unraveled something inside her. Irene bit her lip, trying to suppress the tears threatening to fall. After a moment’s hesitation, she replied, “It’s a lot y/n. The comeback, the pressure… I don’t feel like it’s good enough”

The response was almost immediate. “do you need me to come over? or I’ll stay here, whatever you need”

For the first time this long, long night, Irene felt a small sense of relief.

Irene stared at your message for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly over the keyboard. She hesitated before typing, “You don’t have to come over. I’ll be fine. Just… stay with me here for a bit?”

The typing bubble appeared immediately, and within seconds, another reply came through. “of course. I’m not going anywhere, I’m here as long as you need me”.

A soft smile tugged at Irene’s lips, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. Setting her phone down, she took a deep breath. It felt comforting to know that even from afar, you were there, patient, understanding, and always ready to listen. She typed again, still worried about being a burden.

“I feel like I’m not enough, like I can’t meet everyone’s expectations.”

You replied just as quickly as before. “Joohyun, you’re more than enough. you’ve been working so hard, and it shows. this comeback isn’t for your fans, it’s for you, trust yourself, it’s okay to feel this way. it doesn’t make you any less talented”

Irene rested her head on the table, reading the message over and over. She wanted to believe it, but the weight of her doubts made it so hard. Her phone buzzed again.

“you’ve been working so hard and carrying so much doubt on yourself. let me help, even if it’s just by listening. tell me everything that’s on your mind”

Seeing the sincerity in those words made her chest tighten. She knows you believe in her, you’ve always been vocal about that. With trembling hands, she began to type, pouring out the thoughts she’d kept bottled up. She told you all about the sleepless nights, the rehearsals that never felt perfect enough, the nagging fear of letting everyone down.

And you, like always, responded to every single one of her fears with words of comfort and reassurance.

As Irene shared her worries, a warmth began to spread through her, a comforting feeling of being truly seen and understood. With every word she typed, she felt more vulnerable, but it was comforting, your presence, even through text, was comforting. And as the minutes passed, the room seemed a little less daunting, the shadows a little less heavy.

“you’re not alone, Joohyun. Not now, not ever. And I’m so proud of you, even when you can’t see it yourself.”

Irene’s heart swelled, feeling the love, comfort and reassurance she desperately craved from you. She wanted to respond, to thank you for reminding her of the strength she has that she so forgets, but she didn’t have to. The next message that you sent appeared on her screen, a simple, yet heartfelt offer: “let me take care of you tonight, let me remind you of how amazing you are.”

Her chest ached with the intensity of the emotion she felt. Without thinking, she pressed her face into her hands and let out a shaky laugh that felt like a weight being lifted. She wiped at her eyes before typing, “I’d like that. More than anything.”

A few moments passed before the phone lit up again, this time with a photo attachment. It was a picture of you in your car with a smile, holding up a bouquet of her favorite flower, and a bag from the convenience store. The message attached reading: “Get ready, Joohyun 😈”

Irene couldn’t help but laugh a little at your use of emojis, the first genuine smile of the day. The thought of you coming over and wrapping her in your familiar arms, whispering words of comfort in her ear, filling her with a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days.

Just as she was about to stand up to prepare for your arrival, a knock at the door startled her. Irene’s heart skipped a beat as she glanced at her phone—no text, no warning. She rushed to wipe the last of her tears away and quickly looked in the mirror to fix her hair, she finally took a deep breath before walking over and opening the door.

There stood her y/n, a playful smile on your face, holding up the flowers with one hand and a bag of snacks in the other. Your eyes softening when they meet Irene, looking a little more vulnerable than usual. Without a word, you stepped forward and pulled Irene into a tight embrace.

“I’m here” you whispered, your voice soft and full of certainty.

Irene’s eyes welled up again, but this time with a warmth that spread through her like sunshine. She clung to you, letting the tension finally melt away, piece by piece.

“Thank you for coming” she whispered, feeling safe and seen.

“Always,” you replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

The room was silent except for the quiet rustle of the snacks you brought. You pull away just enough to look at Irene, eyes full of concern and affection. Irene took a shaky breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, a small smile playing at her lips.

“Do you want to talk about it, baby?” you ask, sitting down next to her. Irene nods slowly, feeling the knot of worry in her chest loosen just a bit. She glanced at the snacks—her favorite, a mix of sweet and salty—and let out a small laugh.

“You know me too well,” Irene said, her voice softer than before.

“Of course I do” you say with a smug look. “Now, tell me what’s really going on.”

Irene hesitated, the weight of her fears threatening to rush back, but the look in your eyes told her that she could share this, that she didn’t have to bear it alone anymore.

“It’s the comeback,” Irene admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if I’m doing enough, if it’s good enough. I keep thinking, ‘what if I let the members down?’, ‘What if I disappoint the fans?’, ‘What if you don’t like it’….The pressure is just… overwhelming.”

You reached out, placing a hand on her hand, “Joohyun, you’re incredible. You’ve worked so hard for this, and I’ve seen it everyday. The late nights, the rehearsals, the dedication—you’re it giving more than anyone could ask for. it’s only natural to feel like this. It’s okay to be scared. It doesn’t mean you’re not enough.”

Irene looked up, eyes soft and glistening. The warmth in your’s gaze reassured her, made her feel safe in a way that nothing else had in weeks. It was hard to accept that she didn’t have to bear this alone, that someone else could share the weight, even just by being there.

“You really think so?” Irene asked, her voice unsure.

“Absolutely,” you respond, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And if you need a reminder, I’ll be here to tell you every day, every hour, even every minute if I have to.”

Irene felt her heart swell at the promise. She leaned into your embrace again, this time letting herself relax into the comfort of your presence. It felt like the heaviness was finally starting to lift, even if just a little, she knew you’d be there every step of the way.

“Thank you,” Irene whispered again, this time with more conviction. “For being here, for reminding me… that I’m not alone.”

“You’re never alone, Joohyun. Not as long as I’m here.”

For the first time in days, Irene let herself believe that everything was going to be okay. With you by her side, the daunting challenge of her solo debut didn’t seem so impossible anymore. There would still be struggles, moments of doubt and fear, but now she knew she didn’t have to face them alone.

And just for that, she was more grateful than she could ever put into words.

[1-helluva-hazbin]

Hello! can you see a girl reader who wants to be perfect in everything (in appearance, in weight and in work) and cries if someone bypasses her? characters: adam or lucifer :)

I’m so excited for the ask! I’m happy to try and oblique. I’m not certain I 100% understand your ask so if what I’ve written isn’t what you meant, send in another ask! Thank you for your patience while I got to this as well! Both scenarios for both characters are going to be written with established relationships (friendship bordering on romantic for Adam, a romantic relationship for Lucifer). Both stories were only quickly proofread.

Trigger Warnings for Lucifer's story: suicide, self harm, self depreciation

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.  ✶✶ Adam ✶✶  .˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳. Adam x fem!reader

Song that fits the vibe: Sleep Token - DYWTYLM

Adam was used to seeing women cry; usually tears of joy from having their brains fucked out by the dickmaster himself or subsequently tears of sorrow when he made it clear he didn’t want them and their clingy bullshit around long term. Regardless, they were a pretty regular thing for him to have to deal with.

In the time he had gotten to known you, which was decently long since he tended to get bored of the winners, he hadn’t ever seen you shed a tear. Even when you both had initially met and he had said some rude ass shit to you, you gave him grace. You were much like Emily in the sense that you were usually a bundle of joy full of understanding, forgiveness, love for all, blah-blah-blah.

Only you were hotter. WAY hotter.

In his books you were the hottest winner he had ever seen and based on how you acted, you knew you were good looking. You acted sheepish and tried to downplay any compliments you got but he noticed the way you glowed when you got them. You fed off of it. Taking pride in your appearance. You were always dressing to the nines, going through every known self care routine, and working out; even though you didn’t need to in heaven. You had it down to a science at this point with all of it seemingly coming so effortlessly to you.

Even the work you had taken up to help out the angels who needed it was easy for you. You only ever needed instructions once and you could repeat it back flawlessly performing it with ease.

The only more impressive thing besides being the most flawless being of all the heavenly creatures was that you, of all the winners out there, had impressed HIM. Besides killing sinners and fighting, you might even rank higher than Lute for badass bitches. He wouldn’t admit that openly of course. Lute would be pissed. Plus, that would make it seem like he liked you too much and he wouldn’t want to blow up your ego. He wouldn’t want to have to eat his own words down the line.

Yet, one day as Adam had rounded the corner, after a long boring ass meeting with the counsel, and he saw you standing in the vacant hallway with your head down and fists clenched. What the fuck were you doing? He started to ask until he noticed that though your hair covered your gorgeous face, he could see the tears falling to the ground. Your shoulders shaking slightly as you tried to quell the downpour.

The moment he got his barings, he started marching over to you. “Who the FUCK do I have to kill?” Your head whipped up, your eyes puffy and cheeks red. Somehow the tears that littered the marble floor hadn’t disturbed the perfect makeup you had dawned. 

“A-Adam?” you gasp out, suddenly trying to dab dry your face with the back of your hands. “Tell me who made you cry and I’ll fucking slaughter them.” Adam growled out. As he neared you, his approach slowed but the moment you were within arms reach his hands shot out to gently grab your face. His thumbs lightly rubbing away the tears while trying not to fuck with your make up. His eyes roamed your face, taking in how haggard you look, before locking eyes with you, “Give me a name sugartits. I’ll show ‘em not to mess with THE Adam’s friend.”

The intensity Adam was emitting was a little intimidating and yet, the way he was holding your face was so tender. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch as you brought your hands up to cover his. Tears started to well in your eyes again as you took a shaky breath.

He started to simultaneously panic and get wildly more pissed off the moment it looked like you were going to start crying again. His only tell that he was internally raging was that his eyebrows furrowed more, until you brought his hands down away from your face. You held onto them though as you lightly pressed them to your chest, right above your plush bust.

This was the first time you had ever considered talking about this with anyone. Usually you could hold yourself together long enough to get to your room before you fell apart but, today it had all been too much. The fear was overwhelming. The fear of being replaced. Of being tossed aside. You had done everything perfectly. They all had said so. They had sung your praises since you had come and yet now, their attentions had turned elsewhere. How was it that people could suddenly turn their affections to someone else when you had done it all right? You desperately needed the validation; the vindication. You had done it all right, hadn’t you? Where had you gone wrong? What did you DO wrong? How could you fix this?

You look up to Adam with your misty doe eyes. His gauze tightly fixated on you. He was an honest person. Unkindly sometimes but, he was honest. If anyone was going to tell you how you had fucked up and how you could fix it, Adam would.

“It-It…it’s just…” your breathing is shaky so you take a moment before continuing. “I feel…I feel like I messed up and I don’t know how to fix it. There’s…there’s a new winner. She’s really kind, smart, funny, and so pretty. She’s…” you choke up for a moment thinking about all the ways she’s attractive in the ways you aren’t, “SO pretty… and helpful. She’s so fast at everything she does. I…I…”

“Okay sugartits you’ve lost me. Why were you crying over some new winner?” he asked, utterly bewildered.

You tear your hands away from him as your eyes well up again. You shouldn’t have expected him to understand. “EVERYONE wants her help… I haven’t been able to help anyone out since shortly after she ascended and I feel so…so useless. She’s replacing me… I’m… I’m replaceable… how? I thought I did everything right? She’s so much better than me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The words stunned you into silence and halted your spiral, just as the tears had started flowing again. “You really think some dumb bitch is going to walk up in here and take YOUR place?” he scoffed rolling his whole head, “Yeah fucking right. I give it a week tops before she fucks up. As if some rando new winner can take YOUR place. They’ll be crawling back to you asking for your help. BEGGING for your help. You being the goody two-shoe you are though will forgive them for being stupid and will go back to being #1 at whatever boring paperwork they have you doing.”

“But…why would they just… What did I do wrong?” you ask with a hoarse voice his explanation not making sense.

“Do wrong?” He gasped out, “You couldn’t do a damn thing wrong in your life if you tried. They’re just being fucking dumb. You’re better than every other winners out there and when they realize that you need to rub it in their face. Make them LOATH the day they thought they could replace you. Until they pull their heads out of their asses I’m sure I got some stuff you could help me with.”

He reached out and wiped away the tears again. The aching in your heart eased slightly knowing he wholeheartedly believed what he was saying and, for the moment, his conviction was enough for you. Not that it completely quelled your feelings but, you were able to manage them far better knowing you were still wanted in someone’s world.

His eyes lit up, “You know, you could come to meetings with me and take notes or whatever. Give me the cliffnotes. That shit is SO boring. I’m sure your notes will be better than the official ones they write up anyways and I don’t have to read that shit.”

You smile laughing softly, “I can definitely do that.”

He returned the smile, his thumbs lightly caressed your cheeks, before withdrawing his hands. His whole demeanor instantly reverting back to his usual cocky self. “Damn am I good at giving advice out or what? Just another way I’m FUCKING amazing. You know what, I deserve some goddamn ribs.” he hooted as he turned and started waltzing off.

Seconds later he turned and looked back realizing you were still standing there in a daze, “Come on sugartits I ain’t got all day!”

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

♱𐕣 𖤐 𐕣♱  ☽𖤐☾ Lucifer ☽𖤐☾  ♱𐕣 𖤐 𐕣♱ Lucifer x fem!reader

Song that fits the vibe: She’s An Actor - Austin Giorgio

Trigger warning: suicide, self harm, self depreciation 

You would have thought by now you would be used to being compared to other people. 

Used to aiming for perfection, without ever truly achieving it.

In life you had been constantly used as a pedestal; your sister, friends, co-works. It had never felt like you could claim the recognition you wanted despite having done everything right. 

The perfect GPA in school with extracurriculars to the point you only got a few hours of sleep. Yet your sister’s athletic achievements in swim and cheer had always meant more to your parents. 

The modeling career that you had gotten into, with your best friend following suit only for her to have gotten a contract a year before you. She had even attributed it to your help during a renowned shoot. An unintentional wound that drove you to the edge of your sanity; studying every fashion magazine, the extreme exercising, dieting, any pills that might help and you could get your hands on. 

Then once you finally caught your own break, getting a contract with a big modeling firm, constantly being included in the creme dela crop of models. The never ending critiques of what outfit looked good on which body for x, y, z reasons. Even if you were chosen more than every other model in the company for being the most ideal woman to show off the reveried outfits of the season, you were nothing more than a manikin. Replaced at the drop of hat the moment you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t stop yourself though. You had to do it all. You had to do it flawlessly. You were a failure if you didn’t.

Yet, somehow it was never good enough.  Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. Even in death, the out you brought about convinced it would be your sweet release, hadn’t ended the torment.  You had only condemned yourself further.  The epitome of failure.

Why couldn’t you even die right?

How had you ever attracted Lucifer’s attention?

As you stood in the the hotel lobby, the Hazbin Hotel gala fundraiser in full swing with all the top sinners and hellborns mingling and enjoying the free event, you felt eyes scrutinizing you. 

Your corset was cinched as tightly as it would go, reducing your waist dramatically, though giving you a somewhat nice hourglass shape. The mermaid style, galaxy themed dress had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder straps. It was a deep hue of royal purple on top before gradually fading to black starting at the hips as it descended your figure with gold and silver stars across the entirety of it, fit your figure snuggly and played off of Lucifer's pristine white and gold tux, his bowtie and pocket square the same royal purple. All your assets were perfectly held within the outfit, with tasteful peeks of skin showing beneath the chiffon overlay at your sides and a silt from just above the knee down. A golden snake choker with its head seated in your jugular notch, accenting your bust.

Lucifer hadn’t left your side since the event started. He had a hand incessantly lingering on your lower back as you both navigated the sea of people. You weren’t sure if the constant touch was for him or for you, but it helped steady you as you held yourself together by a thread. Every person you met was better than you in one way or another; status, poise, brand name outfit, professional makeup.

There was no hesitation with each new face in identifying any and every advantage or feature they had that you lacked. Another chip off your shoulder.

The socialite veneer seamlessly masking the degradation you were inflicting. The practiced saccharine smile never leaving your lips. Well timed laughs. A slight head tilt here to show your interest followed by a slight nod. The only honest part of your act was the high praise you sang regarding Charlie and her truly stunning optimism and strong willed determination.

You could feel the scrutiny lightening the longer the night went on. Some people even reapproached you and Lucifer to continue talking. Prior feigned politeness making way to many of the hellborns attempting political fanangling. Both you and Lucifer’s attempts to redirect the conversation back to the point of the party thwarted or outmaneuvered. Eventually, the conversations fell outside of your ability to participate. You had become an adornment.

You were so tired, so heavy.

Following a particularly trying bird guest whose smarmy quips were particularly taxing you excused yourself from the conversation, missing Lucifer’s panicked glance as you moved away. You just needed a break. 

Just a quick one.

You looked yourself over in the mirror. Fixing any stray hairs. Correcting any smudges of lipstick or eyeliner. You noted the contour along your nose could have been darker to thin your fat nose. You’d need a tighter corset as well should you need to attend another party like this.

You backed up to further evaluate yourself.

The prettiest you can be and still you are disgusting.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you took a slow deep breath. No. No you looked good. This would be something you could wear for a shoot. You just needed to change a few small things. Maybe a couple things. Possibly one bit thing. All the comparisons throughout the night flooded your mind, a tsunami. If only you could change everything about yourself. All the things you lacked. All the things you needed to be. Nothing you could ever achieve.

You choked out a sob. Your hands crawling up your arms as you hugged yourself tightly. You dug your claws into your flesh. Stop this. You couldn’t break down now. The gala wasn’t over just yet. You squeezed your arms tighter, not realizing your claws had broken skin. The failed attempt to reel yourself in breaking you further. Failure. Why couldn’t you hold yourself together for a night? You hunched over as now silent tears hit the floor.

A knock sounded at the door.

You held your breath, eyes wide as you stood there. A breath in through the nose and out through the mouth. “One moment please! I’m almost finished!” you call, your voice taking on a melodic tone. 

There was a pause. “Open the door sweetheart.”

Lucifer. You didn’t reply. Didn’t move. Didn’t breath. He knew you only used that voice when you were hiding a breakdown. It didn’t help that the bathroom was your go to place. “My sun, please?”

You crumbled.

The moment the door was unlocked he was in the bathroom with you. His small, lithe body slipping in and closing the door behind him. A soft smile greeting you despite the puffy eyes and tear streaks staining your made face.

“I’m ready when you are.” he whispered.

Your eyes widen and you’re frantic at the thought of being the cause of the king of hell leaving. Look at you fucking something else up tonight. Before you could say anything, a portal appeared behind Lucifer. He gently took your hands before he stepped back. He didn’t pull you though. 

You stared at him; his gentle smile, soft eyes, adorable cheek marks. The tears started flowing again and your hands squeezed his. You stepped into his room in the hotel several floors up from where you both had been, the portal closing behind you.

A glittery red mist engulfing the both of you before disappearing in seconds. Both of you in the dark blue rubber duckie pajamas he had created for your 1 month anniversary however long ago. His a short sleeve shirt with loose fitting pants and yours a spaghetti strap dress that flowed down to your knees. The gashes on your arms cleaned and bandaged up. Your hair down and make up gone. Across the room, your galaxy dress and his heavenly white suit and usual hat hung up on hangers.

“Thank you…” you whisper, trying to wipe away the endless tears that were still flowing down your face. He pulled your hands away from your face and lightly kissed you. He led the way over to the bed, both of you quickly climbing in. You cuddled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You closed your eyes. Listening to his heartbeat and steady breathing. One of his hand of claws raking through your hair. A rosy cheek pressed to the top of your head.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper. Your hands clutched his shirt. Embarrassed you couldn’t keep yourself. He turned his head to kiss your hair. “You don’t have to tonight. It’s been a long day. Tomorrow though?”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to face the feelings, to face him. Admit to him the truth that nothing you did was ever truly good enough. That you were a failure and tonight was further proof.

You backed up to tell him it was nothing. That you just got overwhelmed and were tired. To hide away this ugliness. 

The look of concern caught you off guard though. He was unmasked. Vulnerable. Asking for you to be the same. He had been open about answering everything you had ever asked him, why couldn’t you do the same?

You couldn’t fail him. You could be a failure in every other way but not for him. You couldn’t fail him. Wouldn’t. 

Slowly, you nod and echo, “Tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He returned his cheek to the top of your head squeezing you into him with both arms. His tail manifesting and wrapping itself around your closest lower leg. “I love you.”

You burrowed into his side again, your own arms securing him to you. You smiled, feeling his tail. “I love you too. Thank you, my star.”

Both of you quickly succumbed to sleep wrapped in each other’s embrace.

Neither of you believing you deserved the the other.

[strniohoeee]

Healer

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N has her period, and calls Matt over to keep her company. Matt being the sweet boyfriend he is helps her out🥹

Warnings⚠️: None this is just so cutesy🤭 I need boyfriend Matt in my life 😔

Song for the imagine: Good Day- SZA

I was currently laying in my bed in agony. I hated my period, and I hated day 2…it was the worst. The cramps, the nausea, the back pain. Just the overall icky ness I felt ruined my day.

I just felt gross, and I wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and sleep my life away. I was supposed to film with the triplets today, but I texted Matt telling him I wasn’t feeling good. I felt bad, but I just could not do it today

However I was really missing my boyfriend, and he gives the best back rubs and cuddles, and he just really made me realize why I loved him so much. I sat in my bed getting emotional over Matt and him not being here

I kept thinking about his smile, and the way his eyes closed when he smiled, and how he was so sweet and kind and listened to me all the time, and how he was so soft spoken and so sweet…..fuck I was getting sad

Then I started to think about how he always texted or called me saying “i'm sorry to bother you”….like you’re not bothering me you’re my boyfriend I love you so much keep talking

Suddenly I felt tears fall from my eyes…this god damn period always makes me an emotional wreck. I kept crying and sniffling, so I decided to call Matt. On the second ring he picked up

“Hi baby” he said

“Hi my love” I said sniffling

“What’s wrong?” He asked concerned

“Nothing, I have my period, and I was thinking of you, and I just got so emotional, and started crying” I said laughing a little bit

“Aww baby don’t cry. I’ll come over if it’s not a bother” he said

“Never a bother Matt, please come over” I said to him

“Okay, I’ll be there in 20” he said back

“Okay, be safe I’ll see you soon” I said

“I will” he responded, and with that he hung up the phone

I decided to shower while I waited for Matt. Once I was done I hopped back in my bed and turned the TV on. I decided on watching Coco. As soon as I pressed play I heard Matt come through my front door

“I’m in my room” I said

I heard him walk over, and come in

“My beautiful girl” he said walking in and coming over to me kissing me

“I’m so glad you’re here” I said smiling up at him

“Always baby” he said kicking his shoes off

“I brought some snacks” he said lifting up a bag

“Ouuu you know me too good” I said smiling at him

“Well duhhh you’re my girlfriend” he said getting on the bed and laying beside me

“Whatcha watching” he asked

“Coco” I said digging in the bag for my drink and snack

“Oh never seen it” he said grabbing his snack

“Me neither” I said opening my bag of chips

Matt and I were watching coco, and eating our snacks. After we finished our snacks we decided to lay down. I was laying flat on my back to try and ease the pain, and Matt was laying on his side

“Want me to rub your stomach?” He asked looking up at me

“If you want” I said giggling

Matt snuggled in closer, and started to rub my lower stomach softly to help the cramps

“This okay?” He asked looking at me

“It’s perfect” I said kissing his cheek

We were nearing the end of Coco, and right when Miguel started to sing to Mama Coco I started crying hysterically

“Oh my god…..” I weeped, and Matt looked up at me

“Are you okay?” He said looking worried

“This is so fucking sad like oh my god who wrote this” I said ugly crying

“Baby it’s okay” He said petting my hair and pulling me in closer

He helped me calm down, and I realized how silly I looked crying

“Oh god I’m so dumb” I said wiping my eyes

“You are not, this is sad” he said laughing

“My period got me crying at a Disney movie” I said laughing

“Don’t worry cry all you want I got you baby” he said kissing my forehead

We got to the end of the film and Mama Coco died. My eyes immediately watering, the tear flows starting

“FUCKKKK why is this so sad” I said crying and wiping my eyes

I looked over at Matt who had glossy eyes too

“Damn mama coco got your ass too” I said laughing

“That shit was sad, fuck” he said blinking and wiping his eyes

“Disney knows how to make a bitch sad” I said sitting up and turning the movie off

“They really do, I almost let a tear shed” he said sitting up too

I turned to look at him but winced

“You okay” he asked

“Yeah my lower backs just hurting so much” I said trying to stretch my back

“Let me massage it” he said

“You don’t have to though” I said looking at him

“Nooo I want to please??” He asked

“Sure” I said nodding

“Okay umm remove your shirt and bra and lay chest down” he said

“Ouuu Matt’s getting frisky” I said winking at him

“Stop it” he said blushing and rolling his eyes

“I’m only teasing” I said laughing

I removed my shirt and bra and laid down on my chest

“Wait, do you have lotion or baby oil?” He asked

“Matt you’re really trying to get freaky in this bitch” I said laughing

“Enough! I’m trying to use lotion so it’s not a dry massage” he said rolling his eyes

“You wanna lube me up, got it! In my bathroom under the sink there should be lotion” I said laughing

He rolled his eyes again, and went to the bathroom returning with lotion

“Alright in the least creepy way possible spread your legs so I can sit in between them” Matt said giggling

“You’re begging for it at this point” I said, and then opened my legs so he could sit in between them

Matt put some lotion on my back and began to rub out all the knots

“God damn Matt how are you so good with your hands” I said melting into his touch

“What can I say….i'm a ladies man” he said

“Watch it back there” I said looking over my shoulder

He laughed and continued to massage going lower, and really pressing the knots out

I let out a sigh of relief

“Feeling good?” He asked

“Very thank you baby” I said

He massaged my back for another ten minutes before I told him I felt better. I got back up putting just my shirt back on

“You’re so good to me” I said kissing him

“You know I got you baby” He said pulling away

“Want to watch Cars?” I asked

“Yes please” he said laying back on the bed and waving me over

I laid down on him, and we watched Cars eventually dozing off together.

The End

Hope you guys enjoyed this one🥹🖤🖤. Im thinking of opening my requests up again idk tho LMKKKK🖤

-J💅🏽

[neptunescore]

Princess Cake, Letter

Prompt word: Letter | Pairing: Princess Cake

Jenson hadn't been in when the letter had been delivered to his house. He’d come home from a lovely dinner with Mark, stripped down to his boxers, brushed his teeth and then slept like the dead.

The driver had woken up the next day, none the wiser to what was in his post, and had gone about his morning routine lazily; eating breakfast and doing the daily house chores before — finally — deciding to step out and check his mailbox for any new envelopes.

He should’ve known. He should’ve realised immediately, should’ve recognised the letter was from him, he’d always ripped the corners of any sort of paper he had his hands on, always left those tiny (almost unnoticeable) tears at the edges. Jenson hadn’t known, though. He hadn’t looked.

He hadn’t looked.

He’d opened the envelope casually, had licked the tip of his index finger and unfolded the paper as if it were any normal mail. And then—

Jenson doesn’t quite remember what had happened, had only come back to himself while he was booking the flight; his phone in his left hand while his right one haphazardly stuffed an assortment of random clothes into his suitcase.

The letter had been direct, straight to the point — an address, a plea for his presence, and a signature at the end.

What an idiot, Jenson had chuckled softly to himself later in the plane, who the hell signs a letter like that.

Then again, Nico was always pulling shit like this — desperate to remain formal, to have any feel of normalcy he could when things went awry.

His smile had dropped quickly after that thought.

He’s standing outside the hotel room door now, hand knocking incessantly against the dark wood as his foot taps against the tiled floor impatiently, “Nico!”

“Nico, I swear to God if you don’t open this door right now! Nic-”

“Jense.” A sob. A squeak as the door opens.

Nico’s finally in clear view of him; trembling hands holding the handle, his body drowning in an oversized hoodie, hair mussed up as if he’d run his fingers through them repeatedly, and he's crying. He's crying.

Jenson lets go of his suitcase, immediately pulling Nico forward, wrapping up the man in his embrace and pushing the other’s tear stained face into his chest.

“Nico- sweetheart, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

“Jense. Jense-” A wail this time.

Jenson could feel his heart breaking, his thoughts frantic as he pulled Nico even closer, panicked fingers reaching up to hold the blonde’s soft face.

“Love. love, tell me what’s wrong, please,” he caresses the wet skin beneath his thumb,”Nico, please. Tell me what’s wrong, I’m here now, I'm here. I’ll fix it, I promise”

“I don’t know what to do-” hitched breaths, “I lost my phone, and I can’t remember what to do and he left me all alone, Jense! He left me, and I want to go home!”

Oh. Oh.

Jenson let his body fall still, let Nico bury himself back into his chest as the taller man sighed in relief. He could fix this. It was okay.

“Oh, love. It’s okay. Let’s go home, yeah?”

His hold around Nico tightened as he felt the blue-eyed man relax against him. Jenson could already feel the brief sense of ease that had filled him fading away as a seething rage grew in its place.

Lewis.

Lewis would pay for this.

I love princess cake so much, so seeing this request in my inbox had me GUSHING🤭 Hopefully, you had just a good time reading this as I had writing it💗 Also, I listened to 'Tere Mere (from "Chef")' while writing this, and it made me realise that the songs I play genuinely have an effect on what I write😭 (you'll get it if u listen to the song)

As always, credits to @cafekitsune for the dividers♡

Rules and details☆°•~