#and I can’t help but think about the times she would tell me she had completely detached and didn’t love him anymore

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Can I request Spencer and Nurse!reader? Maybe they meet when he’s wounded/she’s patching him up?

(Yes I’m a nursing student I promise we aren’t all mean girls 😔)

ty for requesting!! ik ur not all mean of course!!<3 —you meet the cutest FBI agent ever and tend his wounds. fem, 1.5k

One of the small pleasures of your job is when the patients are cute. Not many people come through as handsome as this one. You’re professional nonetheless. 

“What am I seeing you for today?” you ask, holding your hands behind your back. 

Your patient, charted as a Dr. Spencer Walter Reid, twenty nine years old, gives you a tentative smile. “Someone hit me really hard.” 

You can see the bruise forming against his temple. “Yes, I’d say so. Did you know the assailant?” 

“No, but it’s handled.” His smile turns to a grimace. “Uh, I get these, like, debilitating migraines, and I feel like I have one coming on.”

“A head injury could trigger that,” you agree, holding your hands out in front of you, little torch in hand. “Can I have a look?” you ask softly. 

When you’ve been a nurse for some time, you start to categorise people into boxes. All kinds of boxes for different things, but Spencer Reid gets a tick for a few things straight away: shy, pretty, and sensitive to touch. He must not get touched much, or he’s had a bad experience with strangers. He did just get hit in the head, you allow, brushing a sweet, mousy curl away from his head and holding it out of the way as you shine a light into each of his eyes. He flinches hard, but his pupils react as expected. 

Whoever hit him managed to break the skin, upon closer infection of the injury. The skin has turned purple at the edges of his cut. It’ll be a big bruise in just a few hours. 

“Spencer, please tell me if I hurt you, honey,” you say, voice still soft. If he’s got a migraine coming, he won’t want your usual overloud distinction. 

“It’s okay. It hurts, but not more or less when you poke it.” 

“You have a laceration, yeah? It’s about three centimetres long, but deep. I can close it with a butterfly stitch, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah, please. Um, about the migraine–”

“Do you want a tramadol, honey? I think you deserve one.” 

“I can’t have narcotics.” 

You pull back and straighten the hair you’d displaced. “That’s okay, it just means you can’t have the strongest stuff. Most people try to avoid them anyhow. How about tylenol, would that be alright? Or do you avoid painkillers in general?” 

“Tylenol is fine as long as it doesn’t have the codeine with it.” 

You give him a gentle nod. “I’ll make sure it’s the right one. You can even see the bottle, if you like. Would you want them before or after the stitch?” He probably knows, but you add, “It’s not a real stitch. But it might feel tender when I’m poking around.” 

“Anything. Whatever you want to do first.” 

His eyes squeeze closed. You give him a frown he can’t see, and rest your hand on his arm. “Is there someone here with you?” you ask him.

“My friend is coming, I think. There was a lot going on.” 

“That’s okay. I’m not sending you home until I’ve fixed you, Dr. Reid.” 

He smiles, even with his eyes closed, but doesn’t say anything more. You wash your hands and find your bandages. A butterfly bandage, a sterile wipe, and a square piece of gauze to cover it cleanly. His eyes are opening again when you return, ushering him gently down the bed so you can sit on his right side near the injury. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him. 

“I work for the FBI.” 

“You do?” You tear open the sterile wipe and again pull the curls from his forehead. “This might sting. Please tell me if it hurts too much.” 

“It’s not the cut that hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sympathetically. Migraines are a tricky business. If he’s already having one, you probably can’t do much to get rid of it, but that doesn’t mean pain relief won’t help. “I’ll do this as quickly as I can.” 

He’s quiet. You wipe around the laceration with careful, concise movements. The cut looks clean enough when you’re done, and it’s so small you won’t irrigate it. 

“Are you an agent?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Special supervisory with the BAU. The, uh, behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you say, putting the wrapping and the dirtied wipe into your cardboard bowl. “I think I’ve seen it on TV sometimes, you guys can track the serial killers and stuff?” 

“Mostly that, yeah. Uh, sometimes we find trafficking rings or missing kids. Sometimes we manage hostage situations. It depends on the level of the crisis.” 

“So you’re the big gun.” 

“I guess so. I’m not actually good with a gun.” 

“No one has to be good with a gun to change the world.” You pull the butterfly stitch from the packaging and pick at a finicky end. “I hate guns.” 

He sighs. “I do, too.” 

“They make my job hard. It’s not nice, seeing what they can do to people. It’s awful, really. Spencer, I’m so sorry, honey, I’m just gonna put this on here, it might feel uncomfortable as I pull the sides together.” 

“It’s okay.” 

You pull the plastic of the butterfly stitch on both sides, cinching his cut together promptly. It looks better now you can’t see the inside. 

“I’m gonna cover this with the dressing now. You don’t have to keep it on if you don’t want to, it’s a pretty small cut, it was just deep. I’d recommend you try to keep it dry for two days, really, you should keep it covered, but it’s up to you. And if anything happens, if it gets infected, you can always come see me again.” 

You’re mildly flirting, then. Just because he’s nice and shy. It might be a little cruel of you to proposition a man when he’s roughed up, though. 

Spencer, luckily, understands that you’re not trying to harass him. “Thank you.” 

You stand, peeling the plastic from the bandaid and exposing the sticky backing. Slowly, you stroke his hair back from the wound and line the bandaid up. He shivers under your nails. 

“So sorry,” you say, laughing under your breath, “it’s my nails, huh?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“You’re a great patient, Spencer. I’d give you a sticker if I could, I’m not kidding.” 

“You’re a great nurse.” 

“Thank you.” You smooth the edges of the bandaid down for good measure and step away from him to assess him. “How’s that migraine?” 

“Getting worse.” 

“You have them often, you said? Treated or untreated?” 

“Psychosomatic, apparently.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Has your doctor talked to you about CBT?” 

“Some. I don’t really… want it,” he says awkwardly. 

“That’s okay. If it’s psychosomatic as they believe, it might get better with time. How’s the stress in your life?”

“Stressful.” 

“It must be hard, the FBI, everything. Life is hard enough. Stopping serial killers must weigh on your heart.” You smile carefully. “Was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention? Any other injury, anything that needs urgent care?” 

“I was mostly worried I had a concussion.” 

“It doesn’t seem like it. You’re not nauseous, are you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

He gets this awful, sad look on his face, it really isn’t nice to see. People come in by themselves all the time but it never gets easier to handle. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, taking his arm into your hand. 

“I’m fine.” 

He had the look of someone who’s always fine. Luckily for him, it’s your job to take care of people, to make sure they’re more than fine. “Okay. I’m gonna get you something warm to drink. Do you like donuts?” 

“Uh–”

“I’m getting a feeling about you. Chocolate frosting, I bet.” 

He smiles, startled and pleased at once. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna get those for you. A drink, a donut, and some much needed Tylenol. You can lay down if you like.” 

He nods but doesn’t move. 

As you’re leaving the room, you cross paths with a handsome man with dark skin and a bright smile. Must be something in the air today, you think. 

“Reid, you okay?” you hear him say. 

“Fine.” 

“You’re pink.” 

“What?” 

“You’re blushing. Oh, you had the pretty nurse, didn’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Spencer whispers sharply. 

“You can ask for her number.” 

“No I can’t, she’s working.” 

“But you want to,” his friend surmises. 

You bite down a smile, giving your head a shake as you go. You need to get a move on. Spencer needs a hot drink, a donut, Tylenol, and a pen. It should be okay if you’re both feeling up to it, right?

[numathehusky]

🌱 My first was surprisingly Gumball from TAWOG! I’m not sure what my middle school self saw in him but whatever.

🥀 I just sometimes believe I am not up to their standards, plus, I am okay with just two F/Os. I’m sure they know I have a crush on them.

🎉 Surprisingly, I believe back when DDLC first released, I think I had more of a connection to Monika than the others. At the time, I did not know what lesbianism was, and I thought it was wrong to be someone of the same sex.

📦 Alastor. This selfship lasted for years, I think during my entire highschool years. It was unfortunately ruined by my abusive ex who is gone now. I just see Alastor as a best friend now, I never really stopped liking him honestly.

📸 This was fun to do!

🎵 I got a whole playlist dedicated to my selfship, but heres my top 3.

- 🤍 - DJ Khaled - I’m the One ft. Justin Bieber, Chance the Rapper, Lil Wayne

- 🤍 - La Bersuit - Un pacto para vivir

- 🤍 - Modern Talking - You’re my heart, You’re my soul

📝 This my favorite art piece I did for her!

💟 As much as I’m embarassed to tell her, I find her adorable in cat ears and paws.

💭 I’ve seen people headcanon that Monika can also play guitar, not only piano. I do think the guitar is very fitting for her.

💢 Monika is one of the most valid hopeless romantics ever.

🚩 Sometimes she’s a little bit controlling. As much as I sort of like it, it’s something me and her have been working on together.

💌 She actually confessed first, at the end of the game (DDLC) in the spaceroom. Throughout the game, I had developed feelings, and I did not know she was having the same feelings till the end.

💗 She said it first, but it shouldve been me, I would have said it 100 times more.

🌺 We sometimes spoon, but we mostly just hug each other. I snuggle into her as she pets me till I fully fall asleep. I also hug a plushie of her too for extra comfort.

🛀 Sometimes at the couch, I’d be arting on my tablet while she reads a book or two. Sometimes I secretly look at her reading and ask what shes reading so far. She info dumps to me.

🎀 Uh- HER ADORABLE WHITE RIBBON BOW HELLO??

🎠 She has a very caring side to her. The most sweetest personality you can think of. It’s like she always knows what’s up with me. It’s a little scary she can read my body language and face like a book.

🎡 I think us going to buy milkshakes and sitting together in a comfty cabin while it’s raining hard is the best date scenario ever. After we’re done with the shakes, we’d cuddle!

💚 I do get a bit jelly when she pets a dog she sees, i sometimes puff my cheeks and cross my arms a bit. I know we’re in public and I am kind of shy for PDA, but I love headpats, and I can’t help seeing someone else recieving it and get jealous.

🎇 Ya’ll are going to kill me.. Monika x Spacecore.

♨️ They don’t know about it yet, but I’m assuming Rainbow Dash would definitly tease me about it, but Alastor and Kai Lan would be accepting and proud of me for being in a healthy relationship.

🔒 It’s more so Alastor that’s protective of me. Since he’s my bestest friend and my ex, he wouldn’t want to see me go into a depression if something went wrong with my relationship.

✩ sleepover inspired selfship asks! ✩

send one or more emoji's alongside a fandom or specific f/o! (if applicable)

🌱 Who was your first F/O?

🥀 Talk about some of your fictional crushes and why they aren’t your F/O!

🎉 Tell us some fun facts about your newest selfship!

📦 Who are some F/Os you no longer ship with? Why?

📸 Make a moodboard for you and your F/O!

🎵 List three songs that remind you of your selfship.

📝 Give us a piece of a WIP involving your F/O (writing, art, etc.)

💟 Give us an embarrassing/secret headcanon you have about your F/O!

🧾 What’s your favorite headcanon someone else has made about your F/O?

💭 What’s your favorite uncommon headcanon about your F/O?

💢 What’s an unpopular opinion you have regarding your F/O?

🚩 What are some of your F/O’s flaws? Any red flags?

💌 How did you/your F/O confess your feelings to one another?

💗When did your F/O first say ‘I love you?’

🌺 How do you and your F/O cuddle?

🛀 What’s your favorite mundane thing to do with your F/O?

🎀 What’s your favorite thing about your F/O’s appearance?

🎠 What’s your favorite thing about your F/O’s personality?

🎡 What’s your dream date to go on with your F/O?

💚 Who are you most jealous of when it comes to your F/O?

🌠 What’s a crack selfship that you’ve thought of?

🎇 Which is the most CURSED crack selfship you’ve thought of?

♨️Did your platonic F/Os tease you about your feelings for your romantic F/O?

🔒 What does your platonic F/O think about your F/O? Are they overprotective of you?

🍦 What do any familiar F/Os think about your romantic F/O?

proshippers dni - this isn't for you ✩

[keepingitformyself]

especially for tender ones like us

A/N: hehehehehehehehehehehehe synopsis: humor, anxiety, and the salvation of love.

pairings: natasha romanoff x reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: no?

MASTERLIST

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

natasha tries not to stumble over her words when she suggests staying in, instead of going out. she does not mean to, but she does. 

how could she not? could you really blame her for wanting a quiet night? something that isn’t so public. she wanted to see you, of course, but she wanted to see you in a space you could be comfortable in, without any of the outside world and free from any distractions.  

you listen intently through the other line, you fight the giggle at catching her little stutter. she can’t see, but you smile widely at the whole thing.

“yeah, we can stay in. i can cook us dinner,” you nod. natasha’s shoulders drop in a quiet sense of relief at your words. her lips curl into a smile. “i’d like that. i can’t wait.”

although this would only be the fourth time you had met up together, to natasha, it felt like the first every single time. 

you continue talking for a little while more. natasha shares details about her day, work, and what she ate during lunch. she tells you how on her way to grab her usual coffee order, an americano, she decided she’d switch her order to a matcha latte after having had you recommend it to her. she tells you, 

“it was good, but not nearly enough caffeine for me to keep up with,” she said, her tone light but teasing. and while it hadn’t become her new favorite drink, just knowing she’d tried it for you was more than enough. her words sent your thoughts spiraling, a warmth blooming in your chest. you were certain that if she were standing next to you, you wouldn’t hesitate to kiss her right then and there.

but you can’t do that so instead, you just fall back on your bed like a high schooler talking to her crush. 

when you finally do meet up the following evening, natasha is buzzing with nerves she doesn't understand. she has taken down whole regimes and has fought aliens from space, yet she seems to draw the line when it comes to facing you. 

she knocks on your door, her other arm clutching a brown bag containing wine and flowers. a reasonable offering if you’re having dinner with someone you want to impress. 

when you answer the door, you're wearing a cream-colored knit sweater. 

“i thought i heard pacing out there.” you joke. 

natasha’s cheeks flush as she tries—and ultimately fails—to fight the smile tugging at her lips. “i wasn’t pacing,” she says, though the slight crack in her voice gives her away.

you step aside and invite her in, and neither of you acknowledges the quiet intimacy of the moment. it feels like more than just dinner, more than just a simple evening in your apartment.

you’re about to cook for her, and somehow, that feels monumental.

natasha’s nerves are a mess, though she can’t quite figure out why—or maybe she can. maybe it’s the way your presence makes her feel unsteady, as though the ground beneath her shifts whenever you’re near.

but natasha doesn’t want to be nervous.

she saw once—a penguin mistaking a sleeping walrus for a rock. the penguin had been caught completely off guard when the walrus stirred, nearly crushing it before it scurried away just in time.

natasha had found it funny at the time, the way surprises can sneak up on you. but now, thinking about it, it doesn’t feel so funny. it feels… unnerving.

surprises are bad for the heart, she thinks. she’s been taught her whole life to avoid them, to anticipate every possibility before it unfolds.

but knowing too much, being too prepared—that can hurt, too.

her thoughts are interrupted by your laughter, light and unburdened, as you guide her toward the kitchen. your smile is so easy, so genuine, and she can’t help but feel how good it is to exist in this space with you.

she offers to help you cook, but you shoo her away instead. you make her watch.

she sits there, with her hands on her lap, and just stares. and she can’t help the look of longing on her face. the kind of thing that suggests she wouldn’t mind this being a constant. 

you made pasta for the evening. nothing too spectacular, but natasha had treated it like you were a top chef and had spent hours crafting everything with your bare hands. 

and then once you’ve plated food for you both and you’ve gotten down to a few bites, you notice the small sigh natasha lets out. the flutter of her eyes as she takes in the meal. 

you smile at her reaction as you move some of the food with your fork. 

“do you like it?”

she looks at you, mid-chew, her mouth stuffed with the food, but she manages a smile. 

“yeah, uh, yes it’s good. it’s so good,” she says, hand over her mouth. 

you continue eating, talking about everything and anything. the night was filled with small moments that would bleed into much deeper ones. you laughed, she smiled, you smiled, she laughed. the kind of things one feels they become when around those who make you tender. 

and you don’t know how or when but you try not to notice how little by little natasha seems to retract a little. 

you decide maybe she needs a small moment for herself and start cleaning up the table. she offers to help, but you wave her off, insisting she relaxes. 

she tries to, but realistically, natasha doesn’t know how to relax. so she sits back and stares at you like she isn’t sure what to do with herself. she isn’t used to this at all. spaces like this–warm, cozy, comfortable.

the impending guilt comes. it’s all so layered. she feels so much at once. the nervousness, the anxiety, the fear of loss, the fear of not being present enough. 

natasha doesn’t know how to be here without sacrificing so much. 

after a while, natasha speaks up. 

“i should probably get going.” her voice too casual to sound like she meant it. she tries not to notice the look of disappointment on your face when you turn around to face her. 

“you don’t have to.” you find yourself saying, not wanting her to leave. 

she hums, something that says she’s already made up her mind. she gets up and gathers her things. 

you follow her to the door, or at least try to—but you pause at the end of the hall when you see her linger near the door, uncomfortably. unsure if she should leave. 

you call her out on it. “you can stay longer if you want.”

natasha wrestles with herself because she really wants to. she looks at the door as if it’d answer for her. 

you’re letting her know. 

natasha feels awkward, clammy hands. she doesn't know what she’s doing. and it’s hard to think of anything else when your eyes are screaming, don't actually leave, at her. 

you look at her carefully, trying to see if you can find any clear indication of what she may be feeling, but it isn’t hard to figure out the redhead in front of you. 

you’ve noted quite quickly how easy it comes for her walls to lower when you’re around. and if there’s anything you’ve learned from that, it’s that natasha romanoff isn’t the trained killer everyone thinks she is. 

sure we all have certain versions we show to certain people. but the natasha you know is anything but rough-edged. the natasha you’ve come to know is actually quite the opposite of what everyone else perceives. 

she’s tender, in her own silent way. too afraid to ever let too much slip away that she’s so painfully aware of everything around her. 

natasha is tenderness wrapped in quiet strength, a paradox of someone who feels deeply but guards herself fiercely. she sees the world clearly—the beauty and the harm—and carries that weight like a constant ache.

like she knows the world hurts more for those most aware of hurt. 

her tenderness isn’t soft; it’s sharp, vigilant, always bracing for the pain that comes with letting others in. you can see it in the flicker of her gaze, the way she hesitates as if expecting the world to hurt her.

and yet, she doesn’t harden. she holds onto that fragile, open part of herself, even when it would be easier not to. it’s beautiful and a little heartbreaking.

natasha looks up at you, then back down at her hands. just above a whisper, she says, 

“i don't know what i’m doing.” 

“that’s the most fun part.” you joke. she smiles, she doesn’t know how to say she wants more time. 

how could she say she feels greedy at this moment? she wants to protect being here with you. we have such little time, she thinks. 

bashfully, she steps closer to you, “i don't want to go.” she says. 

“then don’t.” and natasha almost complies. instead, she takes a step closer, her hand lifting towards your cheek. she’s so close now. 

she kisses you, soft, and shy, but you make her feel sure when your arm circles her neck, deepening the kiss altogether. when she pulls back, her forehead rests against yours, she lets out a shaky breath. 

“maybe i’ll forget my scarf,” she murmured, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“please do,” you replied. please leave your scarf, please linger near the door uncomfortably instead of leaving. please always come back. “that way you’ll have to come back later for it.”  

and just like that, her quiet uncertainty washes away. 

she takes her scarf off and drops it near the door. you follow her actions, you smile, amusement in your eyes. 

later that night, when natasha gets home, she texts you. 

i forgot my scarf. 

you reply, you’ll have to come get it then. 

[pandapetals]

Period Cramps

You find Rogue, Jean and Storm complaining that men don't get period cramps.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Hehehe i saw a art (from@pequena_padawan on tiktok) of scott being projected with period cramps so i wrote this.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

“I swear, men just don’t get it,” Rogue complained, stretching out on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

You walked into the living room with a raised brow, catching the exasperated look on her face. “Men don’t get what?” you asked, setting your mug down and joining them.

Jean glanced up from where she sat, an amused smirk playing on her lips. “Period cramps,” she replied. “Rogue was just telling us how Remy thought a heating pad would magically make everything better—like that’s all it takes.”

Ororo shook her head with a chuckle. “Oh, that’s nothing. I once had Kurt ask me if periods actually hurt, or if women just liked to be dramatic about it.” She raised an eyebrow, and all of you groaned.

“Tell me about it,” you muttered, flopping down on the couch beside Rogue. “One time, Logan had the audacity to say, ‘It can’t be that bad, right?’ I’ve never seen a man regret his words so fast.”

Rogue laughed, nudging you. “Logan? Mr. Tough Guy said that?” She grinned, shaking her head. “I thought he’d be more careful with that mouth of his around you.”

“Trust me, even Logan has his clueless moments,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “Sometimes I think men are just wired to be oblivious about this stuff.”

Right on cue, Logan and Scott walked into the room, their arms full of bags from a grocery run. They exchanged glances, clearly sensing the united front of irritation in the room, but Logan couldn’t help himself.

“What’s with the looks?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, just discussing period cramps and how none of you guys get it,” Jean replied sweetly, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

Scott scoffed, setting the bags on the counter. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. It’s just a little cramp, right?” he said, shooting a clueless grin at Logan, who smirked in agreement.

Jean and Ororo exchanged a glance, and before you knew it, Jean was subtly pressing her fingers to her temple, her eyes narrowing with a mischievous focus.

Suddenly, Logan and Scott’s faces twisted in unison. Logan's smirk vanished as his brows knitted together in confusion, then pain. Scott doubled over slightly, clutching his stomach as his face went pale.

“What the hell—?” Logan growled, his voice strained. His hand went to his lower abdomen, his eyes widening in bewilderment. “What… what is this?”

Jean crossed her arms, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “That, gentlemen, is what a ‘little cramp’ feels like,” she said, barely holding back her laughter.

Scott’s eyes shot up to her, panicked. “Are… are you doing this?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jean replied, giving a little shrug. “Thought you two could use a little empathy lesson.”

Just then, Xavier wheeled in, his eyebrow raised as he took in the scene. “What’s all this commotion?” he asked, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he surveyed Logan and Scott, both clutching their stomachs and grimacing.

“Oh, Professor,” Ororo said with a grin. “The boys were just getting a taste of period cramps. Jean thought they needed some perspective.”

Xavier’s lips quirked up into a subtle smile. “Well, it does seem they could use a little… enlightenment,” he mused, pressing his fingers to his temple as well. You felt a slight ripple in the air, and then, judging by the way Logan practically doubled over, the cramps intensified.

“God— damn , Charles!” Logan barked out, his face twisted in agony as he shot Xavier a betrayed look. “Are you both in on this?”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, entirely unbothered. “Perhaps next time, you’ll think twice before dismissing someone else’s pain.” His tone was mild, but his amusement was unmistakable.

Scott looked like he was about to cry, clutching his side as he turned to Jean. “Alright, alright—I get it! I get it! Just… please, make it stop.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Logan threw you an almost pleading look, his tough-guy façade thoroughly shattered. He was sweating, his hand clutching his abdomen like he was in a wrestling match with his own body.

“Oh, it can’t be that bad, right?” you teased, grinning up at him.

Logan’s glare softened just a bit, though he let out a strangled grunt. “I’m… I’m sorry, okay?” he managed to grit out. “I’ll never say another word about period cramps again. Just—tell them to stop.”

You exchanged a look with Jean, who finally lifted her finger from her temple releasing her telepathic grip. Logan and Scott straightened up slowly, breathing hard as the ghost of the cramps faded.

Logan glared at you, though there was a hint of reluctant admiration in his gaze. “You’re ruthless, you know that?” he muttered, reaching out to steady himself against the couch.

You leaned up, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Now you understand. And next time, maybe you’ll keep your commentary to yourself.”

Logan shook his head, rubbing his abdomen. “Remind me never to cross you and Jean,” he muttered, glancing over at Scott, who looked equally traumatized.

Ororo let out a laugh, clapping her hands. “Lesson learned, then. Welcome to our world, boys.”

Logan shot you one last look, half-grumbling, half-amused. “I still think you’re all insane,” he mumbled, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You leaned against his arm, smirking. “Just remember that next time you think about underestimating us.”

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for Elise

Request: Basically the reader is the CEO of some big/famous business and has a crush on her secretary but docent think that he likes her. So one day the Readers Sister come to the office for a visit and they are talking in the readers office and her secretary needs to drop off some important papers and over hears their conversation. So then he knocks on the door and acts like he didn’t hear the conversation. Reader’s sister says high and the reader notices how they interact together. So when the Readers secretary leaves the Reader is like “hey I think that you guys would look good together. He totally likes you.” Kinda stuff. And the sister is confused but docent really think much about it. So the Readers sister is staying in town for their friends wedding or something so the sister is always at the office. One day the Secretary decides to ask the Readers sister for help to get with the Reader. And that’s all I got.

A/N: This was so much fun to write, they are so in love with each other, totally would write more of them. This is kind of soft in a hot way, enjoy!

The CEO's minotaur

Minotaur x chubby fem!reader || semi-public sex, heavy making out, office sex

Your sister is in town after a very long time, and you had missed her so much, but right now, with her nagging at you about not acting on your feelings for your hot minotaur secretary… you aren’t so sure about missing her. (That’s a lie, you totally missed her, but dang if it doesn’t annoy you to be told you are stupid).

“Come on, you need to tell him, see if he feels the same way,” she’s saying. She’s told you that at least three times before in the past couple of days, but you still refuse to believe her. What has a hot minotaur to do with his human boss? Nothing.

“Stop it, you know he doesn’t like me that way,” you try to argue for what feels like the thousandth time. “He’s too goo-” You hear a knock on the door and shut up instantly, motioning your sister to be quiet, too. “Come in.” Said minotaur enters the room making you sigh in pent up frustration. His big form looks extra good today, and it does nothing to make you feel any less intense about him.

“I need you to sing these papers, ma'am,” his tone is so formal, and he keeps sending side looks to your sister as she tries to repress her laughter.

“Yes, sure, come here.” You sign the papers he puts on your desk as you tell him: “I’ve told you repeatedly not to call me ma’am, just use my name.”

“Okay…” He says, but you know he’s going to do it again. It almost feels like he likes to call you that, like it gives him some sort of satisfaction to act so proper around you. But that can’t be, right? There’s no way.

You exchange a few more words as he tells you about the calls and schedule for the rest of the day. You give him a list of a few things you need him to do as he smiles, a soft blush covering his cheeks and making you press your tights together. Fuck, you need to get it together.

When he leaves you look at your sister, who is covering her mouth with her hand trying to repress the giggles you bet she’s holding. “Don’t,” you warn her, already anticipating what she’s going to say.

She shuts her mouth but smiles brightly at you, changing topics. A while later, when your lunch break is over and your sister is leaving, she says: “For the record, he totally likes you.” She closes the door just in time to avoid the paper-clip you throw her way, her laughter heard even across the closed door.

Your sister stays in town a few more days, dropping by your office to have lunch with you every single day, saying it’s not always that she can spend time with her CEO sister in her important job. You laugh it out, but you are secretly glad she spends time with you every time she comes to the city. You miss her like crazy when she’s not there, and calls just aren’t the same.

That’s how you are about to round the corner when you hear her voice, talking to someone who shows up in your dreams way too often. “Then how do I approach her?” Your secretary says with a soft tone that makes goosebumps erupt on your skin.

“Just tell her you like her!” Your sister whisper-shouts. She was never good at being subtle.

“But- But… She doesn’t like me back. She’s my boss, and so good. She’s so pretty and powerful, and her aura is so sexy at the same time as kind… And I’m just a minotaur.” You hate the self-depreciation words coming out of his mouth. You want to scream at him that he’s wrong. That you are head over heels for him. Then he says: “She’s just so much better than me,” and you had enough.

You turn the corner and stare at his stunned face. “You are wrong,” you tell him.

Your sister is smiling so big you want to be annoyed with her, but you just can’t. Thanks to her you were able to hear him say those things about you. Fuck, she’s going to hold that over you forever, isn’t she? But at that moment you don’t even care. You just care about his sweet face all blushed in the prettiest shade of brown as he looks at you with big eyes and the hint of a smile.

“I’m going to take that as my cue to leave, have fun you two. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” She tells as she almost runs to the elevator.

You two stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. You scan his form, his proper clothes and soft fur, the way his horns are so big they almost reach the ceiling, the sweet smile that’s spreading across his features as he registers your flushed face. You don’t know who moves first, but before you can process it, you two are in each other personal space, and he’s looking at you intently.

“Can I kiss you?” You don’t even respond, grabbing his horns and pulling him down to devour his mouth in the most hot kiss you’ve ever given (or received).

You make out like teenagers, his hands all over your body as yours explore his. It’s intoxicating to finally be able to kiss him like that, to be able to touch him the way you’ve been waiting for so fucking long. He’s driving you insane in the best way possible and, judging by his moans, he’s no better.

“I need you, I need you, I need you,” you chant against his lips, pushing him softly to your office.

He hauls you up and your legs come around his waist. He walks you to your desk and sits you over it, doing the whole wiping-everything-off-the-table thing, the most cliche move of all times. You giggle as he kisses down your neck, his horns right in front of your face as you grab them to control his movements a bit more. You pull him up and devour his mouth again.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, I’m so fucking gone for you,” he whispers against your lips, his hands cupping your boobs over the fabric of your clothes as you moan. You can’t even tell him you feel the same way, your brain is foggy with desire as you palm the huge erection inside his pants.

“Take me, then. Make me yours,” you ask softly.

“Yes, ma’am,” he tells you with a smirk. You kiss him again, your hands working on his clothes to open them. You think some of the buttons of his shirt fly away, but you can’t care less.

He moves you enough to get your pants off your legs, ripping your underwear as you gasp. His strength turning you on so much you want to scream his name, but instead, you bite his neck to avoid making too much noise. You can’t forget you aren’t alone in the office, the other’s cubicles might be a few hallways away, but if you let out all the noise you want, they will definitely hear, and that wouldn’t be too professional of the CEO of the company.

He apparently can read your mind, because he whispers against your ear: “One of these days I’m going to hear your sweet lips screaming my name as I pound into you,” you groan at his words.

His fingers find your needy hole, pushing one inside without preamble as he starts finger-fucking you into a mess of arousal and pent up frustration. His thumb is on your clit when the second finger enters you, making you move your hips to ride his hand. He hums in contentment, urging you to move faster, to get all your pleasure off him.

“I need you, can I… Can I fuck you?” You take a second to process his words, your brain lost in pleasure to what his hand is doing.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you agree vehemently as he chuckles, taking his fingers away from your dripping cunt and spreading your juices over his dick. When you look down to see, you have to swallow a gasp at the sheer size of him. “You are so big,” you let out without wanting to, covering your mouth in embarrassment.

He chuckles again, caressing your cheek and kissing the tip of your nose. “Don’t worry, ma’am, it will fit.” You don’t doubt his words, seeing as you are fucking drenched with desire.

When you feel the tip of his cock against your pussy, you throw your head back, moaning like a whore as the tapered head breaches you. He breathes hard against your neck, his panting making everything hotter. He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing until he’s so deep inside you can almost taste it in the back of your throat.

Your fucking is frantic and desperate. You kiss each other with such desperation that you end up panting against each other mouth’s. It’s so hot and needy, is the climax of so much pent up sexual tension between you two that your orgasm catches you off guard.

“I’m about to…” You don’t finish the phrase before your body is convulsing and your pussy is fluttering around his girth as he curses loudly.

You bury your face in his neck to muffle your sounds as you come apart in his arms, the pleasure so high it’s almost blinding. He follows you over the edge not three thrusts after, and the feel of his come painting your insides is enough to send you over a second orgasm. You bite down on his neck muscles hard, making him groan and shot another load into your tingling pussy.

“Fuck,” you breathe out when your heart slows down a bit.

“Give me a few minutes,” he jokes, making you giggle.

[sapphiresaphics]

Here’s the thing. Arcane season 2 was finished being written back in 2020. It was completed before the first season of Arcane even aired on Netflix in the first place. Before they even knew if it was going to be a hit or not. Before any of the fans had hot takes about the characters.

Which means that all of these “new subplots” (such as the black rose) weren’t just added in on a whim. They have an intentional purpose in the story they’re trying to tell.

It also means that the pacing was always going to increase and become faster as the two seasons went on.

I think a lot of fans are coming at this show from the perspective of a lot of live action shows where the writers see how fans respond to certain things so they add them into the story or focus on fan favorites to grab your attention and keep you engaged. And live action shows can do this because they’re filmed relatively close to when the series airs and so they’re aware of what the reactions are on social media (for good or ill).

But this is animation. Very TIME CONSUMING animation at that. It took 4 years to finish animating the 9 episodes of Season 2. If you include the 6 years of development and production of Season 1, that’s almost a full DECADE of working on this show.

My point is that they literally (and logistically) can’t respond to fan input and make changes in the show based on the way it was received on social media. Like it or not, these specific characters beats and storylines were always the plan from the start.

This is a long winded way of trying to say… if you have problems with the way certain characters are behaving, or certain plot points feeling rushed, or feel overwhelmed by the number of added subplots that need to get resolved before the end of the show… I strongly suggest rather than saying the writing is “bad” or that the writers “don’t know what they’re doing” or just complain about anything really… I suggest you take a step back and ask yourself “why are these the stories and actions they chose for this 2 season arc?”

I think that’s a far more productive thing to do than to go online and whine about things you didn’t like. I find it’s better to try and understand WHY they chose to do these things rather than write them off. More often than not when you look into the why, or try to come up with reasons why the writers would take certain characters down the paths they do, you end up coming out appreciating the media more. Even if you still don’t were with their narrative choices, learning and understanding the WHY is far more rewarding I think.

I’ll give you an example of something I don’t like, but that I understand why. Isha. I don’t like that Isha was introduced and then killed off in the latest episode. If I were to look at it just from a surface level reading, it seems pointless to add this cute mute kid character only to take her away a few episodes later. But NARRATIVELY she’s extraordinarily important. She is what Jinx needed to become more empathetic to her sister and reach out to fix their family. She helps push Jinx into the role of Vander for season 2. And her heroically framed sacrifice is probably going to be the push Jinx needs to stop trying to commit suicide.

Would I have liked to see more of her and Jinx’s relationship? Yes. Would I liked to have learned more about where she came from and why she’s mute? Yes. But at the end of the day, this is not a show about Isha. Isha is a narrative device to help forward the character development of Jinx. And so, while I do not like that she sacrificed herself… I understand it. And that understanding helps me appreciate the writing and the level of depth the writers are willing to go to push their characters around where they need to be by the end of the series.

At the end of the day, Arcane is just another show on Netflix. It is not beyond criticism. There are a lot of legitimate criticisms you can have against the show. But I’ve found that recently the number of bad takes and people refusing to engage with the narrative has resulted in a bit of a backlash against the show and I do not think that’s ultimately very productive. Please… if you’re going to criticize the show, please try to do better than just write off anything you don’t like as “the writers just suck” or “they changed X character for no reason!”

Because I guarantee you, there IS a reason for everything in this show. No matter how small and trivial it might be, this show was put together with love and an extraordinary attention to detail. There are reasons for why characters do and say the things they say. The writers often make these into intentional parallels, foreshadowing, and callbacks.

Please… take the time to actually stop and dissect what you see. Even something upsets you. I implore you… try to understand why. Try to understand what the writers are saying. Try to understand how certain plot points and events could have a bearing on different characters.

Please just…. Try?

[lacyscabinet]

ellie williams with blind reader

I JUST CANT FIND THIS ANYWHERE AND I THINK ELLIE WOULD BE A SOFTIE WITH THE READER😭😭

A/N: HELLO POOKIE!!! I love love love this request so much and I had so much fun writing it, thank you so much and I wish you a wonderful day!🤍🤍🤍 It was supposed to come out WEEKS ago but I got sick because I have the immune system of a Victorian child and I forgot to post this, I beg on my knees for forgiveness 😔✋🏼

give me feedback, gays 💜

NAVIGATION

okay so where should I start...

First of all can we say that being blind ESPECIALLY in an apocalyptic world is not EXACTLY ideal...

While Ellie may not fully grasp how you experience the world without sight, she knows what it's like to feel isolated and alienated

She’d make it her mission to keep you emotionally safe, always checking in with you, and gently coaxing you to talk when you’re feeling down or scared

BUT I'd like to think that Ellie wouldn't treat you like a little child just because of your condition, she knows you just need some extra help for some tasks

Ellie would totally read books out loud for you, because I don't think braille would be a thing in the apocalypse

She doesn't even mind doing it and she actually loves being able to help you with that

she might sit with you at the end of the day and read aloud from any scraps of books she can find out on patrol. If she doesn't have a book handy, she might make up stories on the spot, trying to paint vivid images in your mind

Sometimes if she doesn't have any ideas she'd just tell you about her adventures on patrol

...and it would be hilarious sometimes-

"Alright, so I was getting chased by this huge group of clickers, right? And they’re all like… trying to get me, but I’m just this...stealthy ninja, dodging left and right— Anyway, I had this crazy plan, and I kinda... tripped but, hey, that’s the story of how I almost died!"

I also believe she would be SO worried whenever she leaves for patrol because she knows you'd have to stay alone for a while.

Ellie would likely become hyper-aware of your other senses. Since you can’t see, she would focus on sounds, smells, and even tactile sensations to keep you informed of your surroundings

she might tap your shoulder lightly to guide you if you're about to bump into something

She would hold your hand to guide you when walking through a dangerous area or wrap her arm around your waist to steer you through crowded spaces in Jackson

Even though you’re blind, Ellie might still try to teach you about things that can be learned through other senses.

She could explain how to recognize different plants or what types of birds are nearby by their calls

Maybe she’ll even take it upon herself to teach you how to identify objects or places by their texture or sound, making you feel more connected to the world around you.

"This one’s a little tricky, but feel the texture of this rock—it's rough, right? Man, I love rocks..."

Ellie might get frustrated at times, but never at you, more at herself: she feels like she can’t do enough to make your life easier.

She might worry about how you experience the world, wanting to fix everything but realizing that some things are beyond her control

This would lead to moments where she becomes fiercely determined to find a way to help, trying to make things better in any way she can

"I just wish I could give you more, you know? I wish I could make you see the things I can see, just so you don’t feel like you’re missing out on things."

Overall she would be such a pookie because she's Ellie and she's a cutie patotie (and she also reduced the population of Seattle by 50%)

[janeyseymour]

Never In A Million Years, Unless... -part 3

Part 1. Part 2.

Summary: Melissa has an important question to ask you, in front of all of your special guests.

WC: ~2.75k

“Nonna’s ring?” Kristen Marie nearly shouts into the phone, and for a split second, your girlfriend glances down at you to pray you don’t wake up.

“Nonna’s ring,” Melissa confirms. “I’ve decided that if I’m gonna give marriage another try, it should be with Y/N.”

“What happens when you split from her and don’t get the family heirloom back?”

“Shut the hell up,” the redhead nearly hisses. “I know we ain’t breakin’ up. She’s put up with my ass for years- why would she leave now?”

“I’ll have it for you at family dinner on Sunday,” the blonde sighs.

“One thing though,” Melissa says quietly. At the hum, she continues. “You can’t tell nobody.”

“Why the hell would I say anything?”

“To get back at me for God knows what.”

“I like to fuck with you, but I don’t go messing with Y/N,” Kristen Marie promises. “Now get off the phone; I need my beauty sleep.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Melissa teases her sister. “Night.”

Melissa gets the family heirloom at Sunday’s dinner, and she sneakily hides it in her purse.

That Monday, your girlfriend is able to get Barbara alone before the kids all come in while you’re off preparing for this week’s lessons.

She just pulls the ring out of her purse and plants it in her best friend’s hands.

Barb’s eyes go wide. “Is this what I think it is?”

“An engagement ring? Yeah.”

“No,” the kindergarten teacher shakes her head before amending, “Well, yes. But is this your Nonna’s ring?”

The redhead nods her head. “If I’m gonna give that ring to anyone, it’s gonna be Y/N.”

“Melissa, dear, this is wonderful,” Barbara hands back the ring. “Does anyone else know?”

“Just Kristen Marie,” the second grade teacher rolls her eyes as she carefully puts the ring back in her bag. “And now you. I need your help.”

“My help?”

“When it gets nicer out, I told Y/N we could have a barbecue at our place, and I want everyone to be there… no one listens to anyone more than they listen to you.”

Your grade level partner smiles a smile that meets her eyes. “Of course. You just tell me a date and time.”

“Saturday, May 18th,” Melissa states.

“You already know the date?”

“I had some time to look over the dates while Y/N was in the shower and text with her mother about coming over that day,” the redhead shrugs. “So, can I count on you?”

“Of course you can,” Barbara grins as she squeezes her best friend’s shoulder. “Now, go help that girlfriend of yours before she loses her damn mind. I know she’s been stressed about this week, what with the benchmark testing happening and conferences coming up.”

And so, Melissa does just that. When she comes into your classroom, you seem to be up to your eyeballs in paperwork. Her eyes immediately see how tense you are in your shoulders.

“Mi amore,” she sighs softly as she comes to stand behind you. Her hands gently rest on your shoulders before she begins massaging them.

You smile at the contact and pause your work for a brief moment to crane your neck and kiss her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Warm lips are on yours for a brief second before she glances at what you’re doing. You’re currently getting portfolios together for your kids to show their parents at conferences.

“Babe,” she tuts softly. “Conferences aren’t for another two weeks, and we still have quarterly testing to do.”

“I know,” you mutter. “I just want to get a head start on it.”

“You’re already worlds ahead of me,” your girlfriend sighs. “Take a breather and enjoy your coffee with me.”

“Mel,” you all but whine out.

So, with a heavy breath, the redhead pulls up a chair next to you and begins to go through the paperwork with you. Only, you pause your work to admire her. Her hair is beautifully cascading down her shoulders, her eyeliner looks so sharp today, the way her glasses are on the tip of her nose gets you going, and her clear focus on something she clearly doesn’t want to do but is willing to get over it for you- it has you enamored.

“Was this your plan?” your girlfriend teases as she continues to thumb through the papers. “Get me to do your work while you just stare at me?”

You shake your head goodheartedly before planting a quick kiss to her cheek. “Just admiring my gorgeous woman.” And then the two of you are nose deep in filing the work for your five and six year olds. 

May 18th comes all too quickly, and yet somehow it feels like forever to the redhead for the day to come. But here the two of you are, cleaning your house up and down, making sure the floors are vacuumed or mopped, checking that the couch cushions are fluffed to Melissa’s liking, and just generally making sure the house is presentable.

“I think it looks good,” you say as you scrub the last of the pots that had sat in the sink to soak overnight.

Melissa hums as she tightens the messy ponytail that she has her red locks in. “I guess. I just don’t want everyone thinkin’ we live in some slum.”

You bite back a chuckle at that as you move towards her to wrap your arms around her neck. “With all due respect, we’ve been to Janine’s. We’re just fine, hun.”

Your girlfriend purses her lips as she mulls over your statement.

Before the two of you know it, your first guests are arriving at your house. Thankfully, you had the time to shower and change out of your cleaning clothes before Barbara and her husband show at your doorstep.

Not a long time has passed before everyone has shown, including all of the Abbott clan that you had invited. It’s funny seeing the way that the groups manage each other. Melissa’s family is a bit more stiff, your family is as bouncy and talkative as you, and the Abbott group moves as a group as they try to learn everything they can about the two of you.

“Ma,” both you and your girlfriend yell at your respective parents.

“What?”

“Stop embarrassing me!”

Melissa’s mother and sister are currently telling Barbara and Jacob about the shenanigans your girlfriend used to get up to as a girl while your mother is showing Janine and Gregory baby pictures that she has of you on her phone.

Both of your parents just wave you off with shit eating grins, and the two of you breathe a deep sigh. 

“Was this our best idea yet?” you ask sarcastically. “Having everyone we know under one roof to exchange every embarrassing story they could possibly have on us?”

Melissa just sighs. “I have no fuckin’ clue. I hope it’s worth it.”

“What do you mean?” you ask softly, not knowing of her plan to propose.

Green eyes look into yours as she quickly searches for an excuse. “I mean, we have a life together. They’d all intermix eventually- might as well be on our time as opposed to by accident.”

“I suppose you may be right,” you chuckle softly as you lean in to kiss her, tangling your fingers together softly. You pull her along toward the direction of the kitchen to begin prepping the burgers you know she and Mr. Johnson will be cooking up later.

“So why are we all here? And don’t give me no trash excuse,” Mr. Johnson asks the redhead as they’re making the burgers together. “There’s gotta be a real reason.”

Melissa scopes out the area, and you’re invested in a conversation with your mother and Janine about only God knows what. She leans in and whispers, “I’m proposing. Wanted the important people here.”

“The Abbott crew is that important to you?” the custodian raises a brow as he flips a burger.

“Family,” she tells him. “An’ if she says yes, will you walk with me down the aisle?”

Mr. Johnson pauses his motions and looks to your girlfriend with wide eyes. “Tell me you’re playing. I know I didn’t hear you right.”

“I ain’t, and you did.”

He claps a hand on her shoulder with a dazzling smile. “Hell yeah I will- when she says yes.”

“You really think she’ll say yes?”

“Melissa, Melissa, Melissa,” Mr. Johnson chuckles fondly. “I’m not sure about a lot of things. But if I’m certain about one thing, it’s that your woman loves you, and she’ll say yes.”

Dinner is on the table, all of your friends and family gathering around for a nice meal- all except for your girlfriend, Kristen Marie, and Barbara.

“Where the hell could they be?” you mutter to yourself as you begin to get up out of your chair.

“Just let them be,” Mr. Johnson practically forces you back into the chair. He knows what those three are doing. They’re pulling champagne flutes out of the cars and pouring enough for everyone to toast to the two of you.

“I’m sure they could use some-” You go to get out of your seat again.

“I said let them be, woman!” Mr. Johnson instructs you in an unusually serious tone. “Jesus, so stubborn, just like your girlfriend.”

You furrow a brow at his odd behavior, but you let it go. With a soft sigh, you settle back into your seat.

It’s only a few minutes later that Melissa, her sister, and her work wife come into the room. But they’re empty handed.

“Where the hell were you?” you ask as she stands by her seat next to you. Barbara and Kristen Marie stay by the door.

“I had a few things I had to prepare for,” is all she says.

“And that would be?”

She takes her stein of beer that’s been set beside her plate by you so graciously, and taps on it with a fork. You give her a look that tells her you have no idea what’s happening. But everyone’s eyes turn to her, and the small chatter that had once filled the room is gone. You don’t notice that Barbara has pulled out her phone to begin filming.

“Hey, everyone,” Melissa smiles that charming smile of hers. “I got somethin’ important I wanted to say.”

“Mel, what?” you pull her in close and whisper into her ear. “What announcement are we making?”

“Just wait, hun,” she tells you.

“I would’ve thought we would’ve discussed whatever you’re going to say to the whole group.”

“Can you be patient for like two minutes?”

You’re not so sure that you like the tone that your girlfriend has taken with you, but you hold your hands up in surrender.

She just smiles at you before shining green eyes look back around the patio at the people you love enough to bring into your home. “I got somethin’ I wanna say. Today is a special day for me an’ Y/N, and we… I wanted all of the people that matter the most to us to be here for it.”

“What’s today?” you ask quietly. Silently, you go through your mind for special dates. None of those dates are in May. “Hun, what are you-”

“Everyone here knows that I was married before. Not too keen on the idea of remarrying. Told quite a few of youse-” she glances to her mother, her sister, and Barbara. “-that there was no damned way I was ever getting married again.”

“Melissa,” you whisper as you piece together what’s happening.

She just shushes you. “And then Y/N came along and into my life, and she changed everything that I ever thought I knew to be my world. And since she started working at Abbott, I’ve come to fall in love with the best, most loving, funny, ridiculous woman that I’ve ever met. I found someone who embraced every single side of me and has loved me through it all. I- I found the freakin’ miracle that made me change my thoughts on marriage and a forever. So-” Melissa gets down on one knee and pulls the ring box out of her pocket that she’s been holding onto for months. “Marry me? Make me the happiest woman alive by becoming Mrs. Schemmenti?”

The box is opened, and the ring is sitting there as shiny as ever. It’s… it’s beautiful. “Yes,” you whisper, tears in your eyes. You lean down and cup her cheek with one hand to pull her into a warm kiss as she slips the ring on your finger. “Absolutely, yes.”

She stands and raises your hand up in the air as though she was the champion of something (she’d later tell you that she is the champion of your heart- she won the best prize there is). “We’re engaged, bitches!”

No sooner is Kristen Marie walking around with a tray of champagne flutes that each of your guests takes. 

Once she drops your hand and interlaces your right hand with her left, you get a glance at the ring. It- That- You’re wearing her beloved Nonna’s ring. You have the Schemmenti family heirloom sitting on your finger.

You go to say something to her in a hushed out whisper, but Kristen Marie shoves a glass of bubbly into your hand, and then Melissa is tapping her glass again.

“I got a couple more things I wanna say,” your now fiancee grins from ear to ear. “I just wanted to say thank you to Barb for helping make sure everyone was here. Thank you to Y/N’s parents for giving me their blessing to marry their daughter. Thank you to Kristen Marie for helping me get the ring- the family heirloom.”

“So it is Nonna’s ring?” you whisper out.

Melissa just nods with a soft smile. She presses a kiss to your temple. “And thank you, to my beautiful fiancee. For putting up with my stubborn ass for this long, and for agreeing to put up with my stubborn ass for as long as God has it planned that we’re on this Earth together.” She raises her glass before taking a sip. Everyone follows suit before breaking out into a chorus of cheers for the two of you.

It’s a bit of time before everyone has settled back into their seats for the meal, your guests all eager to get a look at the dazzling ring on your finger. But then dinner is had, desserts and more drinks are had, and it’s a perfect, perfect night.

You spend the rest of your little house party being flocked around, your friends and family absolutely thrilled that you’re the special woman that finally got to change Melissa’s mind about love.

By the time your last guests begin to file out, you have rosy cheeks from the crisp outdoor air and the champagne that you’ve had. The smile on your face hasn’t gone away though. You can’t believe that you’re actually getting married.

“I’m so happy for you, baby,” your mom whispers to you as she hugs you tightly. “Now… work on getting me some grandkids?”

“Mom!” you half groan, half whine.

Before you can say anything else though, Melissa has a hand on the small of your back, she’s pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, and she’s telling your mother quietly, “Let us get married first, yeah?”

That simple question to your mother has you raising your eyebrows and looking at your future wife with wide eyes.

The redhead just shrugs before smiling sweetly at you. She then turns her attention back to your parents. “Text us when you get home safe.” She kisses each of their cheeks softly and watches as they walk to their car.

At last, it’s just the two of you together in the comfort of your own home. Before you can even react, Melissa has you pinned up against the door, and she’s kissing you hungrily.

You can’t quite stop the moan that escapes from your lips when you feel wandering hands. “Honey.”

“God, I fuckin’ love my fiancee so much,” she mumbles into your mouth. Then she’s trailing kisses down your jawline and your neck.

It’s safe to say, you don’t get much sleep that night. And throughout all of the escapades, that beautiful rock sits on your finger perfectly. 

tags: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead

[awkward-fink]

„Love you, please take care of yourself.” You say, your fingers clutching onto the doorframe so hard you would surely leave imprints behind, but you didn’t care in this moment. Because in front of you stands your husband, lopsided smile on his face, clean shaven and his mohawk freshly touched up by your hands and his careful instructions. "Love ye back, hen. Ah'll be back quicker than ye can believe." He murmurs to you, accent thick and his eyes bright.

You don’t want him to go, you don’t want him to leave you behind again and do something crazy he will tell you all about later (or Gaz will spill the beans, like the time your husband decided to nearly drop a half of a warehouse on his head! Thank you Gaz.).

“It’s jist three months, gie or tak a wee bit, love. Ah’ll be back sune.” “I’m gonna miss you so much, Love.” “Ah'm gonnae miss ye even mair.” “Did you pack the lunch I ma-“ you cant end your sentence as your husband leans into your face, his lips warm and inviting and firm on your own, shutting up every train of thought you had as he kisses you breathless and stupid.

You only remember after you had closed the front door, calmed your racing heart and looked into the kitchen. And there it was, the small package of sandwiches you had made for your husband to take with him, untouched and sloppily wrapped, just like you had placed them there. And the lunch you had made, spaghettis with tomato sauce, was also untouched. Your heart sank.

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

“-and then he just goes off to wherever and leaves behind the meal I made for him! This isn’t fair, Leonora!” you pant at the end of your tirade, angrily huffing and growling as you drink the tea your friend and neighbor made in one go, nearly burning your tongue in the process.

“Oh dear, well, honey, how do I say this…” your elderly neighbor wiggled her glasses with one finger, tilting her head from left to right, the curls on top of her head not even moving once. (Soap had once joked that Leonora put so much gel and hairspray into her mountain of curls, she could headbutt any men or women into submission with only one headshake.) “Your food is…” Your shoulders shake and sag as you watch your friend try to think of a way to describe your food in a way that would not totally mortify you or send your soul into hell.

“Bad? A disaster? Hellish? Even a demon would recoil from that torture?” “No, Honey- what I meant to say was, that you have a talent.” Your posture straightens and your eyes glimmer in hope- “You have the talent to burn water.” – only to turn watery and gloomy as your friend goes on with her words.

“That’s not nice…” “But sadly true.”

Leonora leans over the table to pat your shoulder gently, giving you a smile like only a loving grandmother can give. Your eyes turn towards the forgotten sandwiches, which looked even sadder than before and yes, maybe it smelled a little off, but it surely couldn’t be that bad…

You both watch as the single cucumber slice slowly slides down at the side, giving a squelching plopping sound as it hit the table. There is silence for a few seconds before you turn hurt and sad eyes on Leonora, who only pats your shoulders again.

“Kyle told me, that Johnny prefers the mess hall food over mine. The mess hall! No one likes the food from the mess hall!” you are close to sobbing, clutching the mug of tea to your chest like a lifeline.

“Oh dear... Well, there is one thing we can do.” “There is?” “I meet my other friends every Tuesday night for a bit of cards and cooking. How about you come beforehand, and I can teach you some recipes? And the base techniques of cooking?” “You would do that for me?” “Yes, dear. Can’t have your man avoiding home because you cant cook. Think about the children you will have to feed someday!” “You are a saint! Thank you! Please, I beg of you, help me!”

You felt better now, Leonora would help you, she would rescue your culinary skills from the depths of nothing they were at and rise you up towards normal housewife-level meals, you were sure! This would be a piece of cake!

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

IT WAS NOT A PIECE OF CAKE! Leonora was menace, a demon from hell! She was a strict and harsh teacher, and you lost count of all the times she hit your arse with a wooden cooking spoon. It felt like you lived through a montage of training! It started with only Tuesdays and then Thursdays as well, and Sundays to help with baking for church! And then Leonoras friends, a gang of grannies, took it upon themselves to further your training!

You chopped and sliced and diced and julienned until your hands could do it perfectly in your sleep (“That is not uniform, this piece of carrot it slightly off! Again!” Julia barked at you, the waif of a woman poking you with her bony fingers until you got it right).

You helped with shopping, hauling load after load of ingredients, having to run back to the shops every time you got some of the listed items wrong (“This is a bitter melon and not a cucumber, run again little chicken, run again!” Tia Zia cackled after you, sending you right back out into the rain again to run to the store before it closed in 5 minutes).

Soon you were frying (“Make it hotter, the potatoes will soak up all the oil if its not hot enough!”), baking (“Is that salt in the cookies? Honey where was your head?”), kneading Pasta from scratch and finally, you cooked a whole meal for the gang of furious grannies and felt like you were back in school, in your exams, your heart racing as the committee of specialists discussed your results before turning to you with hard eyes and grim faces.

“Dear, this food is-“your heart sank and raced at the same time, your stomach dropping as Aunty Angela cracked her neck as she tried to look at you sternly, “this food is good. It is edible and even tastes better than what my niece Lilly makes. Congratulations!”

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

“You sure you don’t want to go to another diner before I get you home to your wife?” Johnny snorted and rubbed his overfilled stomach. He was sure he was having a foodbaby growing in there after this morning and this midday. His teammates had stuffed him with pancakes and hashbrowns and every other item of breakfast they could get their hands on and then they did it again at lunch! He was so full; he would hurl if he had to eat another piece of food!

“Naw, it’s awright. Ah’m fair burst, ah cannae eat another thing. An’ Gaz promised he’d send me a care package in a few days.” He smiles at his Captain, rubbing his bulging stomach and fighting down a burp that was stuck in his throat. “Yeah well... next mission is not so far away, no worry. And Ghost packed the rest of the MRE’s into your bag for emergencies.” “Ta, Captain. She's a braw wife in everythin' else, but her cookin' is…” he falls silent and only grins. And then the car is already coming to a stop and his heart beats faster in his chest. He is so close to take his wife into his arms again, to kiss her silly and then sweep her off her feet and into the bedroom, where- “Cheers fur the lift, Captain. Right nice o’ ye!.” “Was on the way. See you soon, stay strong.” “A'll dae that! See ye in a few days tae weeks!" Johnny gives a sloppy salute before rolling out of the car, dragging his luggage out from the backseat to lug it right after him.

And then he is off, loping up the way towards the front door, which is already opening and his wife, the love of his life stands before him, her eyes shining and her hair glossy and her skin looking silky smooth and soft and he can’t wait to wrap his rough hands around her and sink into her softness, be back home again.

He doesn’t remember what he said, or what she wanted to say, his lips are on hers, his arms hold her tight to himself and they stumble inside. And then he comes to a stop, his nose twitching as he sniffs the air, his head turning towards the kitchen. “Sointhing smells awfy guid.” He murmurs and stares at you as if you had grown a second head. “Thank you, it’s a new recipe I tried.” He swallows, his mouth watering. His eyes roaming over her happy glowing face. “Ye... ye cooked this?" “Yeah. And don’t worry, I followed the recipe to a T.” You beam at him, your hands stroking over his arms and shoulders and down his torso, making sure he was alright, holding onto him with delight and happiness radiating from you.

And Johnny, still filled with food and stuffed to the gills with cheap cheeseburgers from lunch, takes another whiff before a soft, but cautious smile steals over his lips. “Ah could dae with some food."

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

He must have died. It tasted great.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

My brain said I should make a Blorbo Therapy series and it’s just so funny because like—who would be the therapist?? They’re all so dumb???

Abel from Breath of the Sky??? Just imagine—

Legend: And then… they were all gone. The entire island. I lost her.

Abel:…But she was never real to begin with.

Legend: Yes she—

Abel: You were living in a dream world and fantasizing about a girlfriend.

Legend: Wha—no I wasn’t, it was the Wind Fish’s dream!!

Abel:…..So the Wind Fish fantasized you two getting together??

Legend:

Legend: I DON’T KNOW ANYMORE???

Who else is somewhat stable enough to be a therapist?? Better yet, who isn’t? 🤣 Gosh, can you imagine someone putting a tweed suit and glasses on Ganondorf and making him the therapist? 🤣🤣🤣

Gan: *grumbling about how this is punishment for screwing up*

Twilight, sighing: I just can’t seem to get over the sadness of losing her.

Gan: You didn’t lose her. She abandoned you. Sadness should not be what you’re feeling, you should be furious.

Twilight: W-well wait, I’m sure she had her reasons—

Gan: Whatever they were she clearly didn’t put you first. You should forget her entirely, or vow revenge and find a way back to her world to conquer it.

Twilight: Wha—no, I wouldn’t conquer it!

Ganondorf: Wallowing in woes won’t fix the matter.

Twi: You’re supposed to be helping me! And I’m not wallowing!

Gan: This IS me helping you!! Show her how wrong she was!!

Wild, in the background: So placing bets now on who’s gonna start swinging their weapon first

Honestly, realistically Rusl would probably be the best therapist but I think there are some blorbos he probably couldn’t handle 😂

Rusl: So tell me how that made you feel.

Ganondorf: How it made me FEEL?? My entire family is dead and it’s my fault! And the manner in which my babies were treated after I was sealed away—I swear I will get the Triforce and—

Rusl: Now, perhaps we should consider that you’ve already tried that twice—

Gan: THIRD TIME IS THE CHARM

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 20. A Painful Touch (Garrick)

Summary: Dahlia now with a new signet must learn to navigate day to day life with it. Something she might come to learn the hard way after a certain interaction. A/N: As we do not know Garrick's signet yet, I am basing his signet off a heavily assumed theory. I didn't want to wait till January/February next year to post this, so if Onyx Storm contradicts the below, were just going to pretend it didn't so we don't wreck the next few parts.

Warnings: There are some mentions of a pass incident, as well as a confronting moment. It is nothing major, but I'd rather mention this before posting the below just incase. Potential for a signet spoiler depending on Onyx Storm content. Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

Challenges had finally started back up after a few months off. It was easy to tell everyone was excited for it, itching to get back to it. Sure we’d had training sessions here and there, but nothing beat the thrill of challenges.

I’d been tempted to take Dahlia up on the challenge she’d laid out for me, clearly thinking I wouldn’t follow through. One day I would. But today wasn’t that day. Mainly because she was nowhere to be seen. I hadn’t caught a glimpse of her all day. The last time I’d seen her had been last night as Bodhi had lead her out of this very room.

I hadn’t caught Bodhi to ask him what had happened, Xaden giving him the night off instead of coming on the supply run like he was meant to. I’d tried to ask Xaden about it but he said Bodhi wouldn’t tell him anything when he ran into him when he came back from the healers Quadrant. Without Dahlia. Meaning what ever had happened had earned her an overnight stay over there. I scan the crowd and see Bodhi standing with Xaden and the rest of his squad, riders easily moving out of my way as I make my way over to them.

“So you going to tell us what happened last night?” I ask as I take the empty spot next to him as Xaden gets called up for a challenge.

Bodhi sighs and shrugs his shoulders. “It’s fine, just a training accident. You know what can happen when signets start manifesting.”

“Yes I’m aware.” I say, heavily hinting all too well my experience with it. “But it can’t be fine. Because last time I checked she didn’t come back with you last night, and I haven’t seen her all day.”

“You worried about her?” He teases with a smirk.

“No.” I scoff. “Merely an observation.”

“Who are we worried about?” I stiffen as her voice meets my ears.

Seconds later a she appears next to Bodhi, looking as she normally does. No sign of injury, and acting completely normal.

“Oh we were just-“

“Durran! Are you deaf? You’re up.” Emetterio calls out cutting Bodhi off.

I breathe a sigh of relief as Bodhi rushes off to his challenge, unable to out me for asking about her. I half expect her to walk off now Bodhi wasn’t here, but she doesn’t move. Her attention now on the challenges taking place.

“So do I have the honour of you challenging me and getting to make a fool of you today?” Her question surprising me as I look down at her, a slight smirk on her lips.

I chuckle and shake my head. “Not today, figured I’d go easy on you and let you settle back into challenges before I make a fool out of you and prove you wrong.”

She looks up at me and scoffs, but I can see how she tries to hold back a smile, the corner of her lip twitching ever so slightly. Maybe Bodhi was right. Maybe she did just need time.

“Aetos!” Her head whips towards Emetterio. “Not you Dain. Bloody hell. Dahlia you’re up next.”

She nods at him before undoing her jacket, sliding it off her arms to reveal her training gear. Despite the temperature she’s wearing a sleeveless top today. The first time I’d seen her in one since before threshing. And now I see why. Her dragon relic takes up the entirety of her arm. The blue marking wrapping around her arm. And I can’t help but think of the rebellion marks some of us bear.

I’m startled from my thoughts as she shoves the jacket into my arms. “Make yourself useful and hold this for me.” A sassy tone to her voice as she pats my arm before walking away.

I can’t help but look down at my arm where she touched me. Stunned by the way it had felt when she’d touched me. Almost as if a spark had formed, and I couldn’t help but want to crave her touch again. No. I was not craving her. I might not think she was as bad as I once thought but I did not crave her.

I look up to see her start circling her opponent. I note how Emmetiro had paired up first years without signets together, probably hoping to lessen any injuries and casualties. Good luck with that. I’d seen plenty of singers manifest during training and challenges. The higher intensity and pressure generally bringing them to the surface. It’s how I’d found out about mine. Everytime I thought about it I felt like I could hear the scream just as clearly as if it was happening right in front of me.

I get so caught up in my thoughts I don’t even register Bodhi taking his place next to me. “Why are you holding her jacket?” Bodhi asks as he grins at me.

I roll my eyes. “It’s not like that. She shoved it at me and told me to make myself useful before walking off.” I tell him as I shove the jacket into his arms instead.

“Don’t want to keep it as a memento for your soon to be shrine of her?” He teases as he grasps it in his hand.

“What? Why would I-“

My words are cut off by a blood curdling scream. Everyone’s heads snapping towards the source. I almost think I’ve imagined it, as if I’m relieving the moment I found out my signet. But instead of me pinning another rider to the mat, it’s Dahlia. Dahlia who quickly scrambles off her opponent as she looks down at her hands in horror. Her face as pale as a ghost as her eyes flick up to the cadet still screaming and writhing on the floor in pain.

Emetterio and Xaden are the first to move, rushing over to Dahlia as another Wing Leader rushes to the cadet still screaming on the floor. Emetterio and Xaden try and talk to Dahlia, even shaking her to get a response out of her. But all she does is stare down at her hands, unresponsive to everything else going on around her. Exactly like me last year.

“Oh shit.” Bodhi mutters under his breath as he steps forward slightly before stopping. His eyes snapping to me and back to Dahlia before turning on me and grabbing my forearm tightly. “Did you touch her? When she gave you the jacket did you touch her?” He demands as he grips me tighter.

I rip my arm from his grip, anger flaring within me as if he’s accusing me of what’s happened. “I didn’t touch her. She touched me. Patted my arm before she walked off.”

Bodhi’s face drains of all colour at my words. I go to ask him what’s going on, but movement out of the corner of my eye draws my attention away. Watching as Dahlia rushes towards the exit, the other riders parting for her immediately before she bursts through the doors, clearly scared they would meet the same fate as her opponent. Xaden is quick to follow after her, rushing out into the cool winter air.

“What’s her touching my arm got to do with this?” I demand from him as I step forward, turning my attention back to him as my heart rate picks up.

“You’ll feel bad if I tell you.” His voice warning me, but fuck it. I needed to know. Clearly I was somehow related to this and I wanted to know how.

Bodhi sighs before hanging his head as he looks at the ground. “Last night Dahlia got her signet.”

Confusion washes over me. Did she have the same signet as me? No, if she did Emetterio would have kept her to the side till she could control it. The only safe option for her would be Bodhi as it wouldn’t work on him. But if she didn’t know just like I had, then it would be very possible none of them had any clue before she stood on that mat.

“So? What’s that got to do with me?” I demand, my voice raising slightly.

He looks up at me, as if he feels sorry for me. “She can use other people’s signets. When she touches them, their signet becomes hers till she touches someone else. That’s how she got hurt last night. She flung herself across the room with friends air signet. And that’s how….” He averts his gaze to the now passed out cadet being carried from the room.

I don’t need Bodhi to tell me the rest. My eyes going wide as I realise what’s happened, head snapping towards the door where she left. She’d touched me before she went on the mat. Her signet still so new she probably didn’t think anything of it as she placed her hand on my arm. She’d replicated my signet.

I’d done this.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal

[goest-and-fuckest-thyself]

✨Not Without You✨ No.4

🔥warnings🔥

All my works are 18+ I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR FAKE PAGES AND/OR RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYONE WHO READS MY CONTENT!!! LEGAL USERS BE ADVISED, I SHALL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR FALSIFICATIONS OF AGE ON THIS SIGHT! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST I DO NOT GIVE MY PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ON OTHER SITES. SHARE ALL YOU WANT ON TUMBLR

CW: General adult themes, strong language, cursing, sexual themes and innuendo, mental health struggles, characters going through pain (a lil fluff for you guys this time🥰)

WC: 3,904

As much as Butcher refused to admit it, until we could figure out Birdie’s new mind control shit, we were on lockdown. We had barely made it back to the building before Hughie was skirting around us, keeping his distance like we were lions looking to eat his dumb, twink-ish ass.

Carrying Bird up the stairs and to the couch was easy enough, but as soon as I set her down, I heard the clicking. I sighed, making sure Bird would stay put on the cushions before turning to see Hughie with the Geiger counter pointed right at me.

The clicking hastened itself as my jaw clicked with tension and my fists balled themselves up. I could feel the flush of my face, turning pink with my rising anger. The fuck was wrong with this kid? Was me going off the rails all he could think about?

“Quit that shit,” I stalked forward, snatching the device out of Hughie’s hands and smashing it to the ground. The boy gave the broken pieces a wide eyed stare before his eyes shot a glare back at me. “We have bigger things to worry about besides my chest nuke.”

“That’s the problem, mate,” Butcher grumbled, coming to stand at Hughie’s side, “we weren’t supposed to have bigger issues.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a moment to turn in a small circle. Before I faced the men again, my eyes lingered on Birdie, her chest rising and falling steadily from her place on the couch. He had a point, we were supposed to help these assholes, and they’d let us live our lives. But now? With Butcher’s attitude toward us supes, I was sure he just added her name to his list. I rubbed my temples and turned back to give him a knowing look.

“She’s not on the list, Butcher,” I snapped, pointing an authoritative finger at him.

“Then you gotta get your girl under control, cause if she does that around a bunch of civilians and can’t control it,” his eyes flashed to Bird behind me, a glance so short if I blinked I would’ve missed it. “We don’t have a choice.”

I suppressed the growl that formed in my throat, unable to do anything about the sneer that formed on my lips. I jerked around, stomping away from him so I didn’t break his ass in half. I could smell the Temp V in his system, so maybe it would take some effort, but I needed him and his team to get my revenge. Our revenge.

I slumped down onto the coffee table, gently running my knuckles over Bird’s cheek. I heard Butcher climb the stairs before I studied her sleeping form. Her face had reappeared after she’d destroyed the sanctuary compound, back to that snowy skin dotted with a few beauty marks here and there. Birdie’s powers were telekinetic, not whatever psycho bullshit that was; it made me worry. If the Ivans could put a nuclear reactor in my chest, what could Vought have done to her? She said she didn’t remember, though now I suspected that was a blatant lie.

“You think she’s gonna be okay? She seemed really rattled earlier,” Hughie asked, looking down at Bird from behind the couch. I looked up momentarily to see his eyes holding a genuine concern before continuing my petting.

“I don’t know what the fuck they did to her, and I don’t think I will unless she tells me. I’ve never seen her like that…”

I could feel the boy’s eyes on me before he let out a small sigh and earned my attention again. He leaned with both arms lazily on the back of the couch, giving me that ‘gotta be honest’ look. “I know this is gonna sound rude at first, but you gotta hear it, man. You’re both a mess.” I rolled my eyes, leaning away from Bird and crossing my arms over my chest as he continued.

“But you’ve been more calm since she got here, I haven’t had to use the counter since the motel. I only did it tonight because I see how worried you are over Liz. The only time she wasn’t antsy and bitchy yesterday was when you showed up. You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

I scoffed at the kid, standing to round the living area and pour myself a drink from the bar cart in the corner. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about kid, but if you don’t shut it, you won’t be going on about much else.” He let out a sigh before coming to stand in front of me again.

“You think we can’t see it? We ALL see it, Ben, you love her. It’s been, what, 94 years of knowing her, and you still haven’t said it?” He chased me with his argument as I walked back toward the coffee table, rolling my eyes as I sucked down my whiskey.

“Why’s that any of your business, asshole?” I finally shot back at Hughie, “I’m here to take out the team, and fuck off back to Philly where she and I can be at peace. Whether that’s together or not.”

The boys eyes widened slightly at me before softening and giving a thoughtfully amused smirk. “You don’t know if she feels the same!”

My jaw clenched, and I rose my glass to point a finger at him, “Shut it,” I growled through grit teeth. As Hughie was about to counter, his words were left in his throat as Birdie let out a soft groan from her place below us.

I instantly crouched down, depositing my whiskey glass on the table behind me. Birdie’s eyes fluttered open, only to clamp them closed again with a wince as the light hit her eyes.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I asked lowly, barely above a whisper. She shook her head.

“Everyone needs to stop thinking so loud,” she mumbled, swiping a hand down her face before she squinted back up at me. “I can hear you all in my head.”

“Vought must’ve screwed with your DNA, mutated your genes to allow the brain to-“ my eyes shot to Hughie, cutting him off with a glare as he started to explain science-y shit for the millionth time this week. “Sorry. I’m gonna head to bed, hope you feel better Liz.”

The boy took his leave, also climbing the iron stairs to the bedrooms. As soon as I heard the door click shut, my hand was grasping for Bird’s.

“The fuck happened back there, Birdie? I’ve never seen you be so… cruel,” I asked gently, searching her blue eyes for any sign of that green energy I saw before.

“I-I don’t know. It’s been happening all week, since I met the team. I thought it was just the migraine, some whispers here and there. But yesterday, I heard full sentences come out of Hughie without him even opening his mouth. It all just compounded when we got to countess’ place,” she explained, just as lost as I was. “I blacked out as soon as her right wrist snapped.”

I sighed, hanging my head and squeezing her hand in my own. We had to figure this shit out before Butcher did it for us. What was I gonna do with her? I was always the fuck up, the gigantic mess that she had to follow after and clean up. I was the one that got us into trouble as kids, Birdie always coming up with clever lies and excuses to get us out of it. I couldn’t even make an excuse for her with this; I didn’t even know how.

I finally looked back up to see her eyes were welled with tears, a whimper being held back in her throat. “It hurts,” she finally whined, eyes clamping shut as the tears finally rolled down her cheeks. My heart squeezed as I watched her curl in on herself, gripping my hand like a lifeline she was afraid to let go of.

“I know, I’m sorrry,” I moved to sit next to her on the couch, pulling her into my lap. She finally let out a sigh, turning into my chest as I slightly rocked us back and forth. “I’m here, ya know. I’ll be here forever if you want.”

I didn’t have to look down to feel her nod against me, her small hands now clinging to my chest plate as she let her tears come in waves, sucking in shallow breaths and whimpering into my shoulder. I squeezed her just a bit tighter and leaned back into the cushions. We stayed there quietly, sniffles coming from Bird every once in a while before her breathing finally steadied. She closed her eyes and rested against me, letting me close my eyes and rest as well.

My body relaxed into hers, yet my mind raced with ten million questions, plans, and scenarios. How was I gonna help her? I could barely control myself. What happens if Butcher doesn’t hold up his end of our deal, and she gets fucked over because of it? What if-

“Ben,” Birdie’s tired British lilt snapped me from my heavy thoughts. Without opening her eyes, she reached up to my temple with her right hand, “Stop worrying. It’s really loud.”

As she said the words, I felt my mind quiet. All feeling of doubt and worry suddenly vanished with her touch, a sense of complete calm washing over me for the first time since I’d woken up. I turned to look down on her, jaw slightly slacked and eyes a tad wide. Bird finally opened her eyes to look up at me when she let her fingers fall away from my face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” she mumbled sheepishly, looking away from me to fiddle with her fingers and hide her gaze. I shook my head, my left forefinger and thumb coming to lift her chin to face me once more.

“No, it’s nice. Thank you,” I breathed, gazing down into those beautiful ocean blue eyes. I couldn’t help the turning of my head as Birdie stared back up with that confused expression I adored so much. It was innocent, one of quiet shock that made her eyes widen and her chest inflate with a deep breath. She looked almost concerned as I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing in her breath.

There was now only one thought in my head, the singular thought I was never able to control, not since my 21st birthday in nineteen forty. Not since Birdie raised a toast to me, praising all I’d done and how our friendship meant the world to her. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking that thought from the time she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, bidding me goodnight when I walked her to her apartment door. Since that night, I’d had one perpetual thought in my mind, and now, I knew she’d heard it.

“Ben-“

“You don’t have to say anything,” I practically pleaded with Bird, never leaving my place pressed against her. “You don’t have to…”

I couldn’t help myself, bringing my lips forward and taking hers in a gentle kiss. Instantly, my head filled with voices, hers, mine, others I didn’t recognise. A fire lit within my chest as I felt her press into me further, her delicate hand coming to clasp around my neck softly. I felt like I would melt in that moment, my whole body catching on fire and being doused in ice all at the same time. Finally, as Bird pulled away, taking a breath, the voices quieted, all except the ringing of my own. She then gazed back up to me.

“I love you too,” her unspoken words reverberated through my mind, quieting everything else once again.

My lips twitched upward in a wide smile, placing my forehead to hers once again with a contented sigh. I hadn’t felt this calm since before I got the V, a feeling I missed terribly. Now, my mind was quiet, nothing bustling around or causing a ruckus in my skull. Even some of my pain had subsided.

“I’ve wanted to say that since-“

“Your birthday at the Waldorf,” she giggled, gently brushing her nose against mine, arms now slung over my shoulders. “I heard you, just now.”

I leaned back, just to take her cheeks in my hands and stare into her eyes. “You’re my girl, always have been. No matter what or who I’ve done in the past, you’ve always been my number one.” She gave a small nod and leaned up to kiss me again. This one was languid and long, full of passion I’d only seen from her when she was writing.

“It’s quieter when I’m focused on you,” she whispered as she pulled away, laying herself back into my hold against my shoulder, sighing once again.

“Then focus on me,” I offered, rising from the couch with her draped over my arms. “You can focus on me as long as you need.”

I didn’t have to hear her answer to know she would agree, letting her lean into me fully as I opened my bedroom door. Bird giggled as I plopped her on the bed, earning a smile from me before I closed the door and locked it. She watched intently as I worked my armour and uniform off of myself, keeping only my black boxer briefs intact on my form. Her eyes went a little wider as I neared the bed, scanning up and down my abdomen and back to my face.

“What?” I asked, slipping into the covers before reaching for her shoulder and unclipping her fibulae.

A rose hue springs to her cheeks, hiding her gaze as I began taking her dash from her body, placing it on the beside table behind me. “I’ve never gotten used to how good you look without a shirt on,” she admitted abashedly. I chuckled and let a smirk form on my lips as I reached for the French zip at the base of her skull.

“I look better in nothing, I assure you,” I mused, noticing her heartbeat increase as she let me slide the zip down, down her spine, all the way to her tailbone.

My own breathing became heavier as I longing stared at the bare skin below her black suit. My fingers moved before I’d even given them permission, ghosting from her pelvis all the way back to the nape of her neck. Bird let out a shutter, her eyes fluttering closed as her spine curved into my touch. I could practically feel her pulse beneath my fingers as I slid them under the suit, pulling it off of her right shoulder.

“Wait,” her own hand came up to stop me before I could lower it any farther than her right collarbone. “Not tonight, please. I’m not in the best form to be-“

“Okay,” I cut her off, giving a small smile before giving a small peck to her shoulder blade and moving from the bed. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel too well.”

I plucked another black shirt from my dresser and rounded the bed to hand it to her, taking her face in my left hand and gazing down on her seriously. “I’ve waited 83 years, two months, twelve days, and sixteen consecutive hours, baby. I can wait some more.” That furious blush once again flushed to her face and she turned away with a giddy smile, fidgeting with the shirt in her hands. “The bathroom is just across the hall.”

I placed a chaste peck to the crown of her head like I always did, letting her nod and rise from the bed to change. I could hear the water from across the hall as I laid back into the bed, lighting up a joint as I rested against the headboard. Finally, I heard the door and lights of the bathroom click shut as Bird made her way back to my room. I winked at her as she closed the door, exhaling a puff of smoke. I couldn’t help but stare as she rounded the bed to crawl in at my right, her plush thighs barely covered by the too long for her black shirt. I licked my lips as she crawled into the bed beside me.

“You keep thinking about fucking them and I’m gonna have to do the quiet thing to your brain again,” she pointedly told me, reaching for the joint between my fingers. I let her take it and exhaled once again.

“You’ve got the best pair of legs I’ve ever seen on a broad. Especially those skinny models they have nowadays. Ever since Twiggy the girls have been too thin,” I told her in earnestness. I only earned an eye roll from her as she inhaled the smoke from the spliff.

“You just like something to grab and you know it. You’ve always been handsy, you know,” she exhaled as she spoke.

I shrugged and took the joint as she passed it back, ashing it in the tray on my lap. We stayed quiet for a moment, the silence comfortable before Birdie sighed a deep, heavy sigh, shuffling to lay facing me beneath the covers.

“I do want to go back to Philadelphia with you, Ben. If you’ll have me,” her eyes practically pleaded up at me as she said the words. So, she could hear me while she slept. Not that I minded.

I ashed my joint completely, setting the ashtray down on the table to my left before I snuggled down into the bed just as Birdie had.

“I’ve always wanted to take you back home one day, retire,” I told her my old plans I’d made almost a lifetime ago, caressing her soft cheek. “Go back to that summer house my parents had at the lake. Make it ours.”

Birdie’s full lips pressed together in a thoughtful smile, the apple of her cheek swelling beneath my fingers as they did. “Then let’s go; when we’ve done our part, I want us to leave, get out of the business and just live. Finally get to be ourselves again.”

I nodded, knowing she was right. All she had to do was say the word, and I’d give her anything with in my power that I could. I’d burn the whole world for her, fuck everyone else. Birdie was my girl, now officially. I’d never let her slip from my grasp ever again.

@ladykitana90 @weaponxgames @tmb510 @criminalyetminimal @lamentationsofalonelypotato

[cryptic--writing]

Hiya 👋🏻

It’s not really a kinktober request, but maybe you’ll consider doing it? No pressure though))

Ajaf era James, where he was drinking a lot. He understands that that affects him and turns him into a monster. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt reader, but he can’t break up with her for her safety, he loves her too much. So he comes up with stupid plan of making her break up with him because of his behavior? So he starts to undermine her efforts, e.g. the meals she cooks “could have been better”; makes fun of her simple 9-5 job , saying that’s she lucky she can have a relaxed job cause he’s earning most of the money and covering the bills. Although she’s hurt, she is staying as she loves him and thinks it’s the alcohol talking. James, realizing his plan doesn’t work, makes the final move: after they have sex one evening, he tells her that groupies do a much better job. That’s too much for her to take so she leaves him.

Unfortunately, after break up he feels even worse. Lars is worried so he interrogates him, and drunken James confesses. So Lars finds reader and locks her in the studio with James for them to reconcile (can we have smut here)?

Few weeks later when they start recording black album, James plays her a song (which will become nothing else matters), saying that it’s his way of telling everyone how much she means to him?

I’m sorry I can’t write short asks 🥲🥲🥹🥹

You are a great writer so I really hope this will become a story 🙏🏻

hihi!

and omg its here. took me 9 days to write it lmao but yeah

i cant explain how much I loved this idea pls marry me annon

also ~~~ means POV change (yes there is James and reader pov)

this fic has legit everything so I hope y'all enjoy it bc I busted my ass on it

some parts may be confusing idk

anyways

word count: 10623

warnings: mentions of achohol/drugs, death is mentioned, toxic relationship, break up, angst, smut, fluff, I'm prob forgetting smth

OR SO I THOUGHT (1989)

It had been a rough couple months with James. I felt determined to help him with his only worsening alcoholism, though he only continued to shut me out. I could feel the guilt when he was around, but it didn't make him stop. I tried, I really did, encouraging him to talk to me, to help me help him. 

It was the same sad scene every night. James would come home, probably around midnight, and I couldn't sleep without him next to me, so I was up, all those hours, wondering as I tossed and turned as to where he might be. All I knew is I was in for a scary time when he got back, but I eventually grew tough skin to deal with this.  Understood that this wasn't safe for me, or him, and I stressed that so, so much to him, but James never understood. Well, he never told me he did. Maybe there was more going on in his heart I never knew about. But, of course, I could never discover as he would always close himself off so much.

It was another day where the cycle would repeat. I woke up at three am to the sound of James stumbling in, mumbling something under his breath before he plopped down on the bed beside me, and I knew well enough to hold my tongue, to not provoke him. I pretended I was asleep, which he believed, trying, or at least I think he was trying, to snuggly up next to me, but he had his back to me. His arms weren't around me. Maybe that's all I yearn for now, to be loved and held.

Once I could finally go back to sleep, I was awoken not much later by the sound of my blaring alarm. It was seven am, time to get ready for work. James is a heavy sleeper, he never woke up from my alarms, though I always rushed to turn them off, just in case they would wake him. Slipping out of bed with a groan, I observed his sprawled out body, his shoes still on. I'm glad he made it to the bed this night, as others he would end up on the couch, or in his car, or somewhere I had no idea of.

I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, like a mother caring for her ill son on a school day. I slipped off his shoes, trying to get him more comfortable. I scurried towards the closet to grab my work clothes for the day before getting changed in the bathroom and rummaging through our medicine cabinet, finding some pain killers and then getting him a cold glass of water, leaving the items on our bedside table. I paused to watch over him as he slept, his slow, steady breaths that rose and fell from his chest. I loved him too much to change this lifestyle. I loved every part of him, and if this was part of him, then so be it. I'll help him get better. He loves every part of me, no matter what, right?

Or so I thought.

I slipped on my heels, walking into our messy kitchen, the sink filled with unwashed dishes James was supposed to do. But, he isn't well, so I must do them for him. After washing the dishes, I brewed coffee, poured myself a cup and left some for him and began to make breakfast. James had been off lately, different to how he already was off, but that slowly became part of our normal, so one new change did not stick out too much, but this one did. I don't know what it is. He just felt… lifeless, cold, I guess. I decided to make one of his favorite breakfast meals, a nice, warm and fluffy stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon, cooked just the way he liked it. I spent extra time trying to make it the best I had. I knew they would probably be cold by the time he woke up, but hopefully he'd appreciate my effort. I ate some eggs before scrambling for a notepad, getting a pen to write him a sweet good morning note, explaining I was at work, when I'd be home, how much I loved him, and where the other meds were if he needed them. I wrote these notes almost daily, but this one I made longer and more love filled. I figured he would want my love.

Or so I thought.

I came home around six pm, the evening traffic being worse than usual. Instead of seeing James' car out of the driveway and the house dark, he was still home. The soft sound of the TV buzzing was easy to hear as I unlocked the door, walking in to see him on the couch, leaning against the couch arm and holding his head up with his hand. He was too engrossed in whatever he was watching to nice me walk in, so I tried to have him notice my presence.

“Im back, Jamie,” I said softly to not startle him, my voice filled with love as I moved to sit next to him, he looked over at me, like a confused puppy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gently stroking his back, though he moved from my touch.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm fine. Busy right now, yeah?” He mumbled as a response as he resumed watching TV once more, brushing me off with his simple, cold words. I knew I had to respect his space and not probe at him, so I just nodded with a sigh and got up, slipping off my shoes and setting my bags down,

“Are you hungry?” I asked, digging through the fridge to get things to make dinner. He didn't answer. “James, are you hungry? I can make dinner,” I offered again, noticing the cleared plate that I had made him for breakfast, the note missing. I assumed he threw it away, just like the others. I never saw them in the trash cans, but after everything piles up, you can just assume. I heard James sigh from the couch, “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. Breakfast was cold, so I threw most of it away anyways,” He admitted, and I felt a small ache in my heart. I thought he liked the dish since there was none left on his plate, but clearly he proved me different. Why I even put effort in these things, I don't know. THats a lie, I do. I love him, and want him to know it, to feel it. I should’ve been doing this as part of my own insecurities, but to make sure he knows I'm there for him, always.

I thought of what to make for dinner, seeing if he had eaten anything since breakfast, only finding empty beer bottles and a half eaten bag of chips. It was probably only the alcohol making him act like this. I decided to make steak with potatoes, something he normally liked and said I made pretty well. It was easy to make, and I know it was one of his favorites I made him, but normally I would wait for a bigger step in life, like celebrating something about the band, or something in my career, but I knew he deserved it still.

I finished after 45 minutes, preparing the plate to be gorgeous, something I wish I could hear from his lips for once. But, he loved me. I know he thinks I'm gorgeous, he wouldn't have to tell me. Right?

“Jamie, the food's ready, I made steak,” I said warmly with a smile, setting a dinner table for us. I didn't get a response, just a grunt as he stood from the couch and walked his near empty bottle of beer, finishing it off and grabbing another from the fridge. I sat at the table, waiting for him to come and join me. His eyes landed on the plate, pulling out the chair to sit down. I couldn't read his emotions, he didn't look too happy, but he didn't look mad. He just looked.. plain. James grabbed his fork and began to eat, the metal scraping against the porcelain plate, waiting for his nod of approval. It never came. He didn't talk, but not in a way like he was mad. He just didn't speak. But he didn't need to, he didn't need to say the things I knew already. I took a breath and began to eat, and it might've been one of the best I had cooked in awhile. Perfect tenderness, juiciness, seasoning, and cooked perfectly, something you could get at a restaurant, now in our home. 

“What do you think, baby? I think it's pretty good, no?” I inquired, seeking the validation I craved from him. He just shrugged.

“It's fine, I guess. It could've been better.”

It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't. He just didn't like the dinner I cooked. The dinner I poured my time into. The dinner I made was special. Special for him. But, what did I know? I doubt he meant it. That's why it definitely shouldn't have hurt. He was drinking. ITs just the alcohol making him act like this. He would never say something like that to me. Why did tears prick at my eyes. Why did it actually hurt?

“Oh, uhm…. I'm sorry, I'll do better next time, do you want me to make you something else..?” I choked out, fighting back my tears.

“No, don't waste your time making something mediocre, yeah?” James insisted, insulting me bitterly once again.

I took a shaky breath, another sting to my heart. Hes. Drunk. This can't be what he means, right?

Or so I thought.

“Alright, uh, do you wanna cuddle on the couch..? We can watch anything you want? Or not watch anything, just sit together.” I offered again, pleading to get love from my partner.

“I was probably gonna go to bed. You mind cleaning up?” He pushed me away again, and every word stung. I want him to see me, to notice me, just to love me. But I reminded myself again and again, he's drunk, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it. I'm just being sensitive and pathetic. Maybe it's just my hormones.

I nodded, forcing a smile, “Sure, yeah, go ahead and  go to bed, I'll clean up and join you in a bit, ok?” I informed him and he just nodded and got up, walking to the bedroom, still carrying his battle with him. My eyes stung, and once he was out of sight, I felt tears streak my face, but I continued to fight them away. I quickly got up to clear James’ and my own plate, then  cleaning the kitchen, washing everything with great care to keep it tidy.

I came into the bedroom, James half asleep under the sheets. His hair was astray as he slept near the edge, his limbs tight together. The now empty beer bottle sat on the nightstand, another reminder of James’ habits. I glanced around before getting changed into my sleep clothes, a nice little night dress James had gotten me for Valentines Day earlier that year. It was nice and pink with some fluffy pieces at the bottom and lace dancing across it. It flowed nicely and hugged my body in the right places, going down to a bit above my knees. It had some other pieces, like stockings and a garter. In reality, it was more so lingerie than a bed set. But, it was one of James’ favorites for me to wear. Maybe this would make him open up more, or just show me the love I'm craving. I crawled in beside him, though I doubt he noticed the weight accompanying him, trying to cuddle closer, pressing myself against his back.

“Jamie?” I asked softly, kissing the back of his head.

“Hm.” James answered in a sleepy tone, barely aware of my presence.

“You doing ok? You've been acting differently…” I kept a quiet tone, my hands gently running down his arms and back as I pondered on what may be hurting him so much.

He took a deep and large breath, sighing, “Yeah, I'm fine… why do you ask..?” James mumbled in response.

“Nothing, you just seem off, I guess,” I rushed out. I didn't want to upset him, but he just seemed so soft and sweet, something I hadn't seen from him awhile.

“Oh, well, alright then… love you..” He mumbled out, slowly succumbing to sleep after saying the words I knew were true.

Or so I thought.

The office today was exhausting. Absurdly exhausting. And infuriating. A stuck up and snotty boss whos full of himself ordering me around to do his mundane dirty work, my co workers giving me side glances of judgment for my more rushed than normal appearance, not having as much time this morning as I had to help James with yet another hangover, getting him to the bathroom in time before he painted our bed green in vomit, making him some foods to keep him comfortable and having to buy more pain killers, my 3rd trip this month, all before heading to work. All I wanted was to come home, sleep, relax, and be held by the love of my life. 

As simple as an office job 9-5 may seem, how it is not. No one else wants to do their own work, always needing some kind of assistance, and of course, I none the wiser, agree to help them.

It was another late evening with heavy traffic, not allowing me to come home until seven, again. I had stopped at the market, grabbing food and other supplies we were running low on. And more beer. 

The door to the house was locked, something that had been happening more and more as I came home, only growing worries on James' worsening habits, the idea of drugs coming to mind, but I tried to shake it from my head, just wanting a nice time at home. 

I unlocked the door, the house quiet except for the soft strum of a guitar in James’ mini studio, which was just an extra bedroom we had turned into a spot for him to store his instruments and for his practeing. We hoped one day for it to become a nursery, a room for our future child.

I followed the music, the half open door allowing me to peek at James, hunched over one of his explorers, fiddling with the strings as he danced around the fretboard with his talented fingers. I smiled at the sweet sight, slowly entering the room.

“Whatcha working on?” I asked, announcing my arrival home. James looked up at me, at first a smile on his face, but he quickly dropped it. His actions only confused me further.

“Uhm, not much, just… a couple riffs and stuff for the new album..” He answered, still picking at the strings with something unreadable in his eyes.

I nodded, smiling at him, “It sounds good, I'm excited to hear it,” I responded before speaking again, “Work was so exhausting today, I don't know how I put up with it anymore,” I said with a laughy sigh, trying to lighten the statement.

James just shrugged. “I mean, I don't really see how a nine to five can really be that tiring,” He disputed, but his tone sounded unsure, shaky like how it did when we first met. But there was a force, an anger of some kind.

I was even more lost with his shift in attitude, “Well, what do you mean? You don't work one, you wouldn't know,” I argued back with more aggression than I meant.

“Yeah, I don't work one. Your job is light and relaxing feather work compared to the shit I do. You are out doing twelve hours a day for months on end at a studio, being out for a year just to tour and shit, you don't make anything working that job, I'm the one paying the bills with my money.” James spat, cold and bitter. His words rung in my ears, repeating each syllable like a painful stab. My brain scrambled for reasons to understand his reaction and response to my complaint of work.

James' piercing blue eyes still starred up and me, my mouth agape in shock. Why would he act like this? He loved me. He just told me he did the other week before we went to bed. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. What is wrong in his life that I don't know about, that he wont tell me about.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that might explain this behavior of his. Truly, anything that would help explain such a swift and sudden change in his mood, but deep down ZI knew, I was just looking for bottles, cans, cups, glasses, anything that would contain the fizzy and bitter liquid he loved. The only thing I could find was a half empty bottle, freshly opened next to the chair he sat in. That's it, that's why he's acting like this. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it.

Or so I thought.

Even with my new found reasoning, his words still hurt a great amount, the pain struggling to leave. A simple insult, just telling me how I don't work as hard as him, that my job isn't as crucial as his. I took a breath, trying to control and reign in my emotions before I could meltdown in front of him for such a stupid reason. Drunken words, not filled or backed by any true thoughts. Right?

But they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.

“I- well,” I tried to speak, but I couldn't come up with the words. What would I say? I didn't want to make him any more upset than he seemed to be, but I didn't want to submit to him so easily, especially after such disrespect. But I knew better. I don't lash out, I keep him happy. We will work this out together, we have to.

“I'm just gonna go to bed,” I muttered under my breath, fighting back tears that needed to spill out, James rude comments only adding fuel to the fire that had been burning in me all day. Not a fire of anger, passion or desire, but a fire of hurt. Once I shut the bedroom door behind me silently, I broke. The bottle shattered, and my tears overflowed my face, covering my mouth as I cried, trying to calm myself down as I got ready for bed at such an early hour, even forgetting to make James something for dinner.

It was my day off, a relaxing Saturday I could use to have some me time, as James was gonna be out with the band all day as the brainstormed for the new album, which was still taking its baby steps into production, nowhere near any concept for songs yet. At Least that I knew of. 

James had been really tense this week, and I had tried everything to get him to relax and cheer up. Taking him out to his favorite restaurants after I came home, making him home cooked meals, getting him gifts and all things. Though there was one thing I hadn't tried. Sex.

I spent all day dolling myself up, wanting to be as bare and beautiful as possible for James. I shaved everywhere, leaving not a single trace of hair anywhere except for my head,, of course. I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my body, putting on James’ favorite set we bought together, doing my makeup just the way he liked it, lighting the candles he got for my birthday, and dousing myself in his favorite perfume I owned. All the lights were out, except for the lowlights of the candles in the bedroom. I laid on the mattress, waiting for James to come home, hoping this would finally get him to unwind from his stress.

I heard James’ keys jingle in the door, and I could feel myself getting more and more excited for his arrival. This would be one of the few times I would have him sober, as when they worked on material they rarely drank or did anything crazy, thankfully. His shoes thudded on the wooden floors, a sigh escaping his lips as I heard him slowly walk towards the bedroom.

“Are you home?” He called out to me before approaching the bedroom door, taking in the sight of me and the room I had spent the evening preparing for this moment.

“Hey baby,” I mused with a smirk, looking up at him with loving eyes. His eyes met mine, looking warm for the first time in awhile.

“What's all this for?” He asked,  still taking in the well decorated bedroom and my sexy form.

“Wanted to help you relax… you've been so stressed,” I replied, grabbing his hand to try and bring him closer, to get into the bed with me.

It didn't take much more conniving, and James had given in pretty quickly to my offer. He was being more loud than normal, probably because we hadn't had the chance to be intimate like this in awhile. I loved this so much. Well, I loved being close to James again. He wasn't hitting the right spots or focussing on pleasuring me much, but that's fine, he's the one who needed to relax anyways, and I have enough time on my hands if I wanted to please myself, I guess. It didn't take long for him to come, pulling out and painting himself on my abdomen and my breath labored, coming down from…. Well, not an orgasm, but being close to one. James was beat after that, and I don't blame him for that. He had been so busy recently, I was happy we just got to share a moment like this together again. 

I laid close to him under the sheets as we both recovered, James already half asleep. I had his hand in mine, kissing each knuckle of his and more, pouting all of my love into that moment. I looked up, having felt James’ eyes on me for a while. I met his blues, and there was a slight guilt in them, a gestation and regret. But, it didn't last long as he blinked it all away, taking another breath. 

“How are you feeling now? Did it make it any better?” I asked, my voice heavy with sleep as I lazily continued to press kisses to his hand.

“I mean, yeah, I guess… It wasn't like, amazing though… I've had better, normally the groupies can do a bit more than that, y’know?” James said cooly, acting as if the words he just said didn't mean anything and had no weight to them.

“What?” Was all I could muster out, the tears already filling my eyes as I tried to process all of this.

“You heard me, the groupies normally do better.” 

The words came so normally from his mouth, as if he was just telling me the date and time. But no, he was comparing me to prostitutes, previous women he has slept with. I began to cry, not just out of hurt and sadness, but this time anger. How could he say something like that to me?

And then the worst part hit.

He was sober.

Something I would've wanted more than anything else just a few days ago is now what is causing this experience to be even worse than it is with the horrible comparison and insults James had spewn at me. He meant it. Alcohol was toying with his brain, making him into the aggravated man I had grown to know quite well over the years.

“Are… are you serious? After everything? I put myself through hell to deal with this, to go to work, to do EVERYTHING for you! I have tried so hard James. And Yet you still compare me to them?! Sluts with prices on their heads?!” I cried, anger and hurt filling the fire in my eyes, and I could swear I saw Jamw\es’ cold attitude falter for just a moment. Maybe it was what I was hoping for, that it was all an act, that he truly did love me deep down, but maybe he didn't. Maybe this is the truth I had been hiding from all these months.

James didn't res;ond, just sighing with a shrug.

That's what pushed me over the edge.

“Are you fucki ng serious? You're not even gonna try and fight for this? Get out of here! We're done. Since you don't appreciate anything I do for you nowadays, I don't want you in here anymore. Pack your shit and leave.” I cursed at him as I continued to sob, processing the moments that passed, feeling as if the earth was slowing, each second hitting me hard and heavy.

I could see a slight guilt in James’ eyes, and as much I wanted to believe it was true, I couldn't give it in myself to do that anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. He nodded, staying silent as I cried, slipping on his clothes and grabbing some things he'd need for the night.

“I loved you because you loved me, or so I thought you loved me, truly you don't give a shit!” I called out again, hearing James breath hitch at my harsh words, but he just left. No goodbye, the final words spoken to us only filled with hate and hurt, though millions went unspoken.

— —- — —> A FEW MONTHS LATER…

Not a lot has happened since I broke up with James, but a lot has changed. Maybe for the better. I miss him terribly, but a lot of weight is off of my shoulders now. I'm no longer worrying about having to make elaborate meals for him, or to do everything in my power to make him happy as [possible, watching my words at all times to make sure I wont say anything that might upset him. It was a large change. The house is still cold like how it was with him, but its a different kind of cold. There is no warmth of another body. Its quiet, no more TV static and laughter or guitar. Work had only gotten more tiring, but I had recently gotten promoted, something I had wanted for a long, long time.

I haven't spoken to James since we broke up. I know he had come by the next day, as when he left that night he only took clothes to last him the night, and when I came home from work, all of his belongings were gone, and his spare key was left on the counter, all of his music gear out of the house, leaving me a now empty room, not to house his guitars, and no longer holding the hopes and dreams of a future child.

Or so I thought all of his stuff was gone.

I came home after work, the house dark and silent, turning on the lights before going into the former music room, which had now become my office for the time being, as I needed one for the promotion, to be able to have a comfortable spot where I could do other work tasks from home. I set down my purse, sitting in my computer chair and sliding off my heels. I saw something in the corner of my eye, something that somehow had never caught my eye all these months. 

An ashtray, repurposed to hold James’ many guitar picks. It was behind a lamp that was in the corner of the room on an end table. There was more than just guitar pics, but one of his rings. Like the ones he always wore on stage, the cool reflective metal that shone brightly under the spotlight. I paused, only having gotten one heel off, so confused as to how I never noticed. I sat in this same chair, facing the same direction, taking my heels off the same each day. I quickly got the other off before walking towards the table, picking up the ashtray, having remnants of cigarette butts and ash, some of which covered the pics. There had to be at least 20 of those pics, I don't know how James could forget such a thing, along with one of his more favorite rings. He wore it when we met, but I never made the connection as to that being the reason he left it. I missed him, yes, but having these almost made it worse. Like the world was teasing me that he is gone, that I won't be able to be held by him again, because he doesnt love me anymore. How I still love him, I don't know. Part of me still wants to believe he never meant any of it, but the chances of that being true is slim now. But, I didn't have the heart to call him, to return them to him. He would have come to get them by now, right? 

I picked up the cold metal, holding it in my hand before slipping it on my ring finger. It was too large, slipping off quite easily. I tried the next, my middle finger, and it fit well enough to not fall off. It felt so wrong to wear, but it made me feel closer to him. I hated it, but I loved it. A little piece of him to be with me always. ‘God, I sound like a wife mourning her husband who died in a war.’ Was all I could think to myself, setting back down the ash tray and taking off the ring before sitting back down in my office chair, trying to shake my head of the matter so I could focus on the important task at hand, work.

I spent about two hours on the assignment before finishing it among other things, now exhausted even further. I stumbled towards the bedroom, changing into my pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Since the break up, I have refused to wear or even look at the clothes sJames had bought me. I didn't feel any desire to wear those things now that I knew he would be the one to see me in them. I never really wanted to wear clothes like that, but knowing he liked it made me like it. Now that he's gone, so is that enjoyment. I layed down on the mattress, sinking down as it swallowed me and the day whole. I had gotten used to the loneliness of sleeping alone, even after having a body next to me for the last four years. Maybe it was an easier adjustment as towards the end it was like sleeping next to no one.

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

The last few months are hard to describe. I can't explain it, I really can't. I've never been more lonely in my life, drowning all of my sorrows in the bitter bottles that wasted away each night and day. I've tried putting my energy elsewhere, focusing more on the band than I was earlier, trying to pour my emotions into guitar and lyrics, but nothing works. Nothing matches what I once had. What I threw away. What I ruined. Though, all my life, through all my struggles, there was one thing I learned.

Mask your emotions, hide your turmoil. It's something I had quickly gotten good at from a young age.

Or so I thought.

I went out for drinks with Lars to discuss lyrics and other parts of music for the record, as we normally had for our other productions and everything. We had another few weeks before we went into the studio, where we planned to record for many months, wanting this release to be the best we ever had. 

Before I had even gone out to the bar with Lars, I had already had a few bars at home, or what I had tried to make into my home. It was a home, yeah, but it didn't feel homey. There was no warmth or touch to it to make it seem whimsical or joyful. I know I have a problem, but what is there I can do. 

When I got there, Lars’s car was already outside, and I knew I was late by thirty minutes, having to build up the motivation to leave the house for a reason other than food, so trying to get up and socialize and talk about important stuff was not on my top choices to do.

I trudged in, my eyes darting around for the Danish, who was never that hard to find. And as I expected, I found him somewhat quickly, taking a seat next to him and ordering a drink for myself.

“Hey man, where the fock have you been? Been waiting here ages for ya,” Lars commented with his laugh, sipping on his own drink.

I just shrugged, “Sorry man, there was just…” I tried to think of a reasonable excuse, but none could come to mind. “Traffic, y’know, it gets bad around five or six, all those people getting off of work,” I explained, thinking I was an expert at this facade.

“Alright, whatever you say. Let's get to work now, yeah?” Lars tried to believe me, but it was clear he knew there was something more to what I said. 

I just nodded, “Yeah,” I answered, and Lars took out his notepad where he already had some ideas for songs. The mask was as strong as stone, no way to see in.

Or so I thought.

 Lars looked back to me, a thought popping back in his mind, “Traffic? There's normally not much in this area, I mean before you moved out of that place, shit, traffic was bad, but here? No way,” Lars questioned me, no longer believing a word I had said. 

“Well, I guess it was just different today…” I muttered, “Let's just start now, leave it be,”. Lars agreed reluctantly, and soon we were sharing ideas sas I jotted down lyrics, Lars taking turns as we debated on the new project.

Of course, as we worked, we were drinking. Me more than him, and it was getting me tipsy, and then drunk. Normally we wouldn't get drunk during lyric writing, just a bit.. Wobbly, I guess. We were just reviewing the lyrics for the third song we were jotting up and I had ordered another drink.

“Jesus man, you only focused on drinking? We got shit to do!” Lars complained to me, and I just shrugged. “Sorry, got my priorities here…” I joked, and Lars only gave a pity laugh.

“Is something up? You've been acting weird as hell for the last few months. We barely see you anymore, and when we do, you're late.” He informed me firmly, clearly not wanting to put up with my demeanor much longer.

“I'm fine, didn't I already tell you that?” I responded, and at this point I just wanted to go home. “Well, you can tell me it a million fuckin’ times and that doesnyt mean Ill believe you,” He rebuttled, and I sighed. “So, what's up with you?”

I didn't want to answer, well sober me would've deflected. But drunk me? He doesn't have much of a filter. Who does when they're drunk anyways?

“Nothings up with me, just dealing with shit…” I answered, taking another sip of my drink.

“Ok, well dealing with what?” 

“The breakup, and everything,” I answered, my eyes avoiding Lars’s own.

“Ohh, yeah, I see. What happened anyways? You never went into detail, just saying she kicked you out in the middle of the night. The fuck did you do to her?” He laughed, but the sting of the memories still remained.

“I.. well, I told her she was a shit cook, lazy, didnt work as hard me, and that groupies fuck better,” I admitted. Lars' face changed from a small smile to a look of shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah”

“What would make you say something like that?! That's totally messed up!” I knew this would be shocking, especially coming from me to say something like that. But I didn't expect him to be this shocked.

“No, I did it for a reason, I'm not just some asshole! I didn't want to break up with her, and I didnt want her to break up with me, but I knew I had to get her to break up with me. I keep drinking, and it makes me into… I don't know, I'm a different person and I don't want to hurt her. The only option was to force her to break up with me.” I tried to explain, but Lars was quick to respond.

“Only option?! Have you heard of rehab? Getting help? Did she just let you waste away?”

“I didn't want to go to rehab either, and no, she did try to help, but I don't want help…” It was getting embarrassing at this point, showing how weak I had become.

“James, not everything is about what you want! There's things you need to do, but you don't want to. Those are just as important.” He paused, hoping my worlds would process through me as he thought of an idea. “How about this, clean up your act a bit and I'll get her back over here and you can go back to paradise, alright?” Lars offered and I perked up a bit.

“How the hell do you expect her to come back to me after all of that?”

“I never said she'd come back to you, I said I can get her over here, make you guys talk or something.” He corrected me, and I just rolled my eyes.

“Well how are you gonna get her to come here? She probably hates me at this point,” 

“I have my ways, we were closer friends than you probably remember,” Lars’ words didn't help. He could never explain his plan, and that's what always ticked me off about him.

“Fine, whatever, work your midget magic or something,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, nothing, just do whatever it is, alright?” 

“Fine.”

— — — — > A WEEK LATER…

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

Time moves slow these days. But not in a bad way, it was nice that life was hitting the breaks a bit instead of the pedal. Though, that joy wouldn't last long.

I sat in my office chair at work, working on some papers my boss had handed me a few minutes ago. He was giving me stack after stack after stack of papers today, all coming with my promotion I got a bit back. More money means more work, and more work means more money, so I guess it isn't all too bad in the long run. I glanced up from my paper, eyeing the now double repurposed ashtray, one being made for the intents of cigarette butts, then guitar pics, and now it held my keys and some other trinkets, including one singular guitar pic of James, one of his favorites. 

I was startled out of my thoughts by hearing the office phone ring, quickly reaching to grab it, assuming it was a customer call.

“Hi, this is Capital Advisors, how can I help you?” I offered in a cheery tone, but the voice I heard response was not what I had expected.

“Hey man, look, it's Lars, something happened to James, you mind heading down to the studio?”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, Lars and I were close, but we haven't talked much since James and I’s break up. My words caught in my throat, processing the second half. “Something happened to James? What happened? Is he ok?” Even though he proved himself worthy of a break up, I still couldn't shake my love and worry for him.

“Uhhhh, yeah, no, sure he's fine, but you just needa come to the studio?” Lars rambled, not sure how to keep up his lie.

“Ok, yeah, of course, when do I need to be there?” My mind was racing, Lars wasn't being direct with what happened, so my mind could only think of the worst. He always poland things off to make them not seem as bad as they were. What if James fell and hurt himself? Overdosed on something? Only darker thoughts hit my mind.

“Like, now, this can't wait,” Lars demanded, and I had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah, I will be there as soon as I can, ok? Tell him I’ll be there soon, I don't want him to worry,” I gave in and then Lars thanked me and hung up. 

Now I don't know what to do. My boss wasn't the type of person to just let me leave whenever I want, and I had already promised to Lars I would be there immediately. Though, my worries got the best of me and I quickly began to gather my stuff together. I grabbed my keys and my purse, quickly heading to my boss's office. 

I always hated going in here, it was freezing since the AC was always blasted, and it reeked of musty air freshener. I gently knocked on the door before I heard his baritone voice respond, telling me to come in. I entered, seeing him sitting there, filing papers. 

“Can I help you?” He said in a monotone voice, opening and shutting cabinets.

“Yes, I need to leave, like right now. ITs an emergency, family matter,” I tried to briefly explain, but it didn't take long for him to come up with a new response.

“Emergency? Of what? Is someone dying?” His eyes looked up from his papers, meeting mine as he waited for an answer.

“I… Well, I don't know,” I muttered, and it was true, I really didn't. With Lars’ vagueness, I tru;y didn't have a reason to not assume James was already on his deathbed.

“How can you not know?” He questioned me as if I was stupid, then noticing my pale and shaky look of true worry, “Fine, yes, you can go, but you're leaving three hours early. I want you working those hours back tomorrow. Understood?” He finally made an offer, and I quickly accepted without hesitation.

“Yes, thank you, and I'm sorry,” I responded with a smile and a nod, quickly leaving the office and getting to my car as fast as possible. Lars never specified where exactly the studio was, but I had been there a few times with James to hear them practice and record. I did my best to remember the way there, speeding in some places and having to make a couple U turns to figure out the exact spot. The whole time my head was buzzing, I could not think of one normal reason as to why James would want me there. He clearly didn’t like me much towards the end, even though I still like to think he never meant it and that it was only the alcohol talking, but I was probably wrong. Why did I still care so much after being so wrongfully disrespected? Part of me still loved him. Still wanted to wake up next to him every morning, hear the faint strumming of a guitar whenever I came home from work. Now those days were gone, and never looked like they would return. I still worried for the worst for James, endless horrid possibilities arising in my brain, all trying to piece the puzzle together.

When I finally pulled up, I saw two other cars out in front, not seeing James’ car, assuming Lars gave him a ride and KIrk giving Jason one. No cop cars or ambulances or fire trucks, so he isn't dying, or maybe they already left. Maybe I was too late? 

I quickly got out of the car, almost running to the studio door, knocking until Lars came and opened it for me.

“Hey! There you are, took ya long eno-” Lars was quickly cut off by my own anxieties.

“Where is he? Is he ok? Was I not fast enough?” I quickly voiced out, my eyes darting around the inside and searching for him.

“Yeah, relax. He's fine. He's inside-”

“If he's fine then why did you make me come here from work?! I thought he was dying or something crazy,” I cut him off, questioning his efforts.

“No, none of that, you worry too much. He just wants to talk with you,” Lars answered, and my previous worries and a new suspicion grew in me.

“Just want to talk? Last time I talked with him he was critiquing me! He hates me! He doesn't want anything to do with me!” I voiced the feelings that had been clawing at me for months, never having anyone to tell them to.

“Or so you think. Look, just talk to him, that's all this is, ok?” Lars grew tired of my attitude and clearly I would have to give in soon.

“I want to, I want to talk to him, but I doubt he wants to talk to me,” I responded, trying to further explain my hesitations.

“I just told you that he wants to talk to you! Go in there, please!” Lars pleaded with me, and I sighed, finally agreeing.

“Ok, ok, I will,” I answered, beginning to head into the studio.

“Thank you! He's just down the hall, in that room with the sound equipment and everything,” Lars informed me, and I followed him, seeing James hunched over a table, scribbling down on a piece of paper. My heart was racing now. I hadn't seen him since that night. I didn't know what I would say to him, I was worried what he would say to me.

Then he looked up at me.

His cold, piercing blue eyes, a newfound softness in them as our eyes met. I avoided his eyes, but felt his lingering on me. Lars guided me in, shutting the door behind himself, leaving us alone. I was unsure of what to say, my eyes lingering on the floor, hearing James set down his pen.

“Uh… hi…” He started, probably just as unsure as I was.

“Hi,” I responded back shyly, avoiding his gaze, though I could still feel his own on me. The sound of footsteps approached me, instantly recognizing them as James’, and then I heard a click. Lars had locked us in here, now forced to talk.

“I.. I'm sorry, I really am,” He mumbled, and I looked up at him, seeing a true guilt in his eyes, “I wish I didn't do it, that I didn't say those things, that I didn't make you hurt so much like that… I should’ve been much more, well, mature about it. I feel like shit for everything,” James explained to me, but this only caused me to have more and more questions.  

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice still a hushed whisper as a wave of various emotions crashed down on me. “I had reasons for what I did, I just wish I went about it differently. I wish I had listened to you when you had offered me help. I didn't want to hurt you with my habits, and I couldn't break up with you, I didn't want to be the one to do that, so… so I tried to make you break up with me, and you did. Everything I said, it was a lie. I never meant it. You're a great cook, you work hard, you're just… you're amazing, you're too good for me.” James confessed, and I could feel a bit of the cold melt away, though still a hurt in my heart.

“Then why make me come and tell me all of this? This would only pour salt in that wound, no?” I was still confused at why he would make such an effort, but I still found it touching.

“Because I still love you. I want things back the way they were. I swear on everything, I've changed. I miss you more than anything-” I cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips, and he melted into me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting and loving embrace.

After James pulled away, he looked me in my eyes, “How could you forgive me for saying all of that to you?” He began, “Id think you would just… hate me, I was a total jerk,”

“Or so you'd think. I still love you and miss you more than you could imagine,” I responded with a  small smile, and James matched mine, kissing me again. “Can… can I show you how much I've missed you?” James asked in a mumbled tone, clearly a bit embarrassed. My cheeks heated up at his offer and I giggled, nodding as our lips met a third time, a new hunger and desire now displayed. Slowly, he walked me to the table until I had backed up into it, his hands trailing up my sides until we broke away, his lips now going down my neck, eliciting a needy whine from the back of my throat, my hands pulling him closer, snaking under his shirt to trace his skin. 

James’s fingers slipped under my shirt, working to get it off of my head, leaving my neck for only a second to remove the fabric before attaching himself to my sensitive flesh, feeling him suck and nibble, definitely leaving bruises. He gave a more harsh bite, causing me to whimper, then soothing it over with his tongue before pulling away. Soon his gaze focused on my breasts, still confined with my bra. His eyes met mine again, “Can I take it off?” He asked ,already reaching around my back to work on the clasp, which had become an easy task for him. I nodded, and soon the garment was now on the floor with my shirt. The cold air caused my nipples to erect immediately, and James’ eyes were locked on them, cupping the in his hands as he squeezed them and pinched at my nipples, making me make high needy sounds, causing him to smirk, kissing around the soft flesh, teasing me with every movement he made. 

I began to claw at his shirt, trying to take it off of him, so he reluctantly pulled away from my chest, removing his own shirt, giving me a view I had missed more than I care to admit. My eyes dragged slowly over the newly exposed skin, and his lips crashed down on mine again, pushing me back so far I was now laying down on the table, the cold wood causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I tugged at James’ pants, feeling myself grow wetter at the moment. He slipped down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers as you pulled down my skirt, leaving me in only my panties. I could see the bulge in his final layer grow at the new sight, and then he got on his knees, gripping the sides of my aunties and taking them off in a swift motion, leaving my glistening folds exposed to his hungry view.. His warm lips teased my thighs, kissing around the area I needed him most, making me writhe with desire. Eventually, his tongue found my center, giving it soft licks at first, parting my folds with his tongue. A moan escaped my throat, and James took it as his sign to keep going, burying his face between my thighs. He licked and sucked at my hole, probing at it with his tongue as his nose nudged my sensitive clit. My hand snaked into his long blonde locks, gripping his scalp tightly as I pulled him closer. I could hear him groan into my flesh, causing a vibration to coarse through me, making me moan again as I came closer to my first high. Eventually James moved further up, giving more attention to my aching clit, giving it gentle licks first to tease me before sucking it into his mouth, biting it softly, making me squeal from his ministrations.

“Jamei, fuck, Im gonna cum,” I whined out, tugging on hair harder, causing him to let out another low groan as he continued to feast on me. “Cum for me pretty girl,” He mumbled into my flesh, and like that my orgasm washed over me, a breathy moan falling my lips, feeling my core pulsate , releasing my grip on James’ head, allowing him to pull back.

James chin was drenched in my essence and his spit, some caught in his facial hair, wiping it off on the back of his hand. I dont think Ive seen anything hotter. His eyes landed on mine, and I noticed a lustful darkness in them, kissing me again as our tongues tangled in a battle for dominance, James winning in the end, and soon his boxers were on the ground, both of us bare in front of each other again.

JAmes broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, leaving new hickeys and bruises in his wake as they now peppered my neck. I felt his tip at my entrance and I squirmed, his lips leaving my bruised flesh. “You ready, baby?” He asked, taking my hand in his, and I nodded, feeling him slowly push into me, the stretching sensation stinging my insides, a delicious stretch my body had missed as I tried to accommodate his size. Once he was to the hilt, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, squeezing his hand tightly.

I gave him a look of a need, and he gook note, slowly beginning to pump his hips, untwining our fingers as he positioned himself with better support, placing his arms on either side of my head. With every thrust a moan escaped my throat, tears pricking at my eyes from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight… haven't had anything since me, hmmm?” James whispered to me, and I could only whine in response, his calloused fingers sneaking down to my clit, brushing the bud lightly with the pad of thumb, and I began to squirm around his cock, feeling his thrusts increase with speed, more grunts falling from James.

The table I laid on creaked beneath from our frevorus movements of need, completely forgetting we were still in the studio. The band was still in that studio. This room wasn't for recording, very little sound blockers. Anyone in this building could hear us. The thought didn't pass my mind once throughout the whole experience, only focused and becoming closer with James once again, not just in body, but in our connection reforming with every minstration from either of us.

James' thrusts grew relentless, only increasing the pleasure for both of us as he chased his own high, helping me with mine, continuing to toy with and stroke my clit, moans and whines leaving me with any movement he made. “So pretty like this, baby, taking me so well,” He groaned, his small grunts and moans filling my ears like sweet music. I began to buck my hips, knowing that my orgasm was approaching, James not far behind, his vocal expression of pleasure growing in number and volume, mixing with my own mewls and moans, that and the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, my nails clawing his back.

My eyes began to roll back, James’ name falling from my lips a thousand times as my legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him deeper to finally bring me to edge. James noticed and thrusted harder, hitting that special spot with every movement, making me have to cover my mouth with my hand, the unholy noises escaping me growing too loud for us to stay secret. James disapproved, “Mmmm, don't do that baby, let me hear you cum around my cock,” He cooed, and that was all the encouragement I needed to come over the edge, a high pitched moan coming from me, feeling my walls clamp down on James’ length, pulsating as waves of pleasure cascaded over me. James helped me ride through it, still rubbing my sensitive nub, his thrusts losing rhythm as he approached his own high.

“Fuck, sweetie, gonna cum inside you…” He grunted, his pace increasing as his movement became erratic with pleasure. “Take it, take it like a good girl, baby,” He moaned, his load shooting deep inside of me and painting my walls white with his seed. His hips sputtered, bucking into me as he collapsed on top of me, our sweaty foreheads clinging together as we both recovered from the intense orgasms, trying to catch our breath. James pressed soft, lazy kisses around my face, reminding me how much he loved me and how he'd never hurt me again if given the chance.

After a moment, we both had come down from our highs, James’ softening member sliding out of me with a pop. He looked down at the mess between my thighs, all evidence of our pleasure with each other. “Youre fuckin’ perfect,” He muttered, his eyes dragging over me.

“Are the groupies still better?” I teased him, remembering our bickering that was one real, or so I thought it was real fighting.

“Oh, hell no, they don't stand a chance to this,” He responded with a smile, and I smiled back.

We cleaned up, slipping back on our clothes so we were somewhat presentable. Only now did the realization that we were never once alone in this studio and the rest of the band was outside had hit me. A wave of embarrassment flowed over me, my cheeks flushing even more than they were before given the previous activities. Both James and I looked quite disheveled, our hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. I tried to shake off whatever nervousness I had in me as James put his arm around me. We went to reach for the door handle, only to find out it was still locked. Now it would be even more awkward. James knocked on the door from the inside, calling out to Lars, or anyone else in the studio.

“Guys? Lars? Can someone unlock the door?” And it wasn't long before footsteps approached, hearing a key click as the door swung open, Lars, more curious than ever eyed both my own and James’ appearance, noticing the hickeys, the slight wobble I gave, and any other imperfections that we might have displayed.

“I take it you two worked things out?”

— — — — > A FEW WEEKS LATER…

It had taken some time, a lot of talking, and more than just one hook up for James and I to work out any other issues that we had with each other. We met up a lot in the recent weeks after that, discussing different ways on how to help James with his drinking, and just trying to regain eachothers trust.

Soon enough though, James had moved back in with me. I kept my office space, but now the room was split in two halves. I worked in one half, while James did his guitar work in the other half. It was a fairly large room, so we both had our own spaces and rarely bothered each other. If I had a work call or anything that required silence, James would just migrate to the living room.

It was the same old schedule we had all those months ago, and I was now returning from work. It was Friday, now I would have plenty of time to relax and be with James. I pulled into the driveway, parking and getting out of my car as I walked up to the porch, the click of my heels following my steps on the cement. The lights were on, the door unlocked. I could hear a faint strumming coming from inside, meaning James was hard at work on new material for the album. It was my favorite thing to listen to while doing work assignments at home.

I walked in with a huff, setting down my purse and keys on the counter before heading to the shared office space. James wasn't playing much, just sounded like scales and chords for his warm ups. “How was work, baby?” James greeted me, still focused on his guitar. “It was a bit tiring, but it was good. I think my boss is starting to like me,” I answered, settling into my chair. He nodded in response, going back to fiddling with the strings.

It wasn't until a little later a soft, sweet and melodic tune had hit my ears. Much different than what Metallica normally plates. James hummed along to it, almost like he had lyrics already written out. But knowing him, he probably did.

“What are you playing? It sounds really nice,” I started, listening to a few more notes before continuing, “It's not what you guys normally play,” I commented, and James let out a deep hum in response. “Just something new I'm working on,” He replied, and I nodded, getting back to work.

Only this time, I couldn't focus. Normally James’s music helped me to focus, becoming a comforting background noise. This time though, I couldn't get my mind off of that melody. He kept going, and each second I kept getting more and more captivated by it. 

“That songs really pretty, I like it,” I said, scribbling down whatever notes I couldnt on a piece of paper. “Thanks, it's actually, uhm..” He trailed off, and I knew something was up. I spun around in my chair, going to face him. “It's what?” I asked, confused by his shy demeanor. 

“It's called ‘Nothing Else Matters’,” He stated, finally stopping picking at the strings. “Nothing Else Matters?” I repeated, connecting whatever the lyrics might be in my head to the melody. Normally their slower, melodic songs were dark and heavy topics, so I expected the same with this one.

“Yeah,” James answered, “I wrote the lyrics about you, actually,” He muttered softly, though I still picked it up. “About me?” I questioned, slightly shocked. “Yeah… I've thought a lot about, well, everything recently. Ever since that point a few months back I've reflected and everything… Rumors spread, and I just want everyone out there to get the right idea,” He paused, searching for the right words, “I want people out there to know that you're all I care about, you mean more than the world to me, and I want everyone to know that,” He stated, his tone true and emotional. I had never heard him say sweeter words to me, and I knew that he was speaking nothing other than the truth, I could see it in his eyes, there's a way to read people, and James wasn't easy to read, but you soon could learn the lingo.

“That means a lot to me, Jamie,” I answered, smiling at him. I got up from my chair to sit next to him on the couch, leaning against him. “Thank you,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “You don't need to thank me, sweetheart,” James responded, wrapping his arm around me.

And now, I knew my whole world was whole again. What was once hatred, or so I thought was hatred, was once again love, everything as it should be.

[asrielinfected]

New Victim

Paring: Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Enid tells you about a new student that arrived to nevermore. You can’t help, but tease Wednesday, to get a reaction out of her.

Warning: Profanity

Authors note: Reader kinda likes to tease people, and I haven’t watched this show since 2022🤕

Enid(your bestfriend), and you were currently eating lunch together. You listened to Enid as she spoke about her new, odd, roommate called, Wednesday Addams.

“So, Y/N! I have this new roomie, and well, she’s quite interesting if I do say so myself,” Enid chuckled as she took another bite out of her lunch.

“What do you mean by “interesting” Enid?” You said as you made quotation marks in the air.

Enid sallowed the bite she was chewing on, and looked at you. “I mean, she’s not ordinary. And there absolutely nothing wrong with that! We all aren’t ordinary, but she’s just different in some type of way.”

You listened intently, “I somewhat understand. No need to explain any further. Also speaking of Wednesday, where is she? It’s lunch time”

“She’s probably in her dorm! She always eats in there.”

You smirked deviously

“You know what would be funny?

Enid smirked along with you

“Y/N, whatever you’re planning I’m all in for it.”

Enid was like your partner in crime.

“I should totally go and annoy, Addams!”

Enid’s smile slightly faded. “You sure that’s a good idea? Wends, is kinda intimidating,”

You rolled your eyes at your friend’s statement, “How bad can it be? Your roommate might need some company, don’t you think?”

Enid sighed “Yeah, Y/N, I’m not so sure about this.”

“Finee. I guess I’ll just do it by myself. Have fun talking to Yoko, or Ajax, or something,” You said as you got off of her seat and threw away your trash as you headed to, Ophelia Hall.

You already knew where Enid’s dorm was since you been there before, but you never had met this “Wednesday Addams” before.

You finally arrived in front of the door room. You took a deep breath in, and opened the door.

You were met with a room clearly decorated differently since the last time you been here.

You saw a short girl with braided pigtails, sitting at the black side of the room. You can’t really tell what she’s doing, but she didn’t even care to look of who just walked in.

“What is it exactly that you want.”

Wow. Enid wasn’t kidding. She was intimidating. Her voice sent shivers down your spine, but you talked to people like this. You can handle it!

“Ah, you must be the ‘Wednesday Addams’ everybody’s talking about. I’m-”

Wednesday cut you off, “I didn’t ask for a whole speech. You are yet to respond to my question.” She said with a cold voice

This bitch. How rude.

“Okay, asshole. To answer your question that you so much wanted, I was only here to be nice, and welcome you. At least I’m not the one isolating myself.”

Wednesday finally turned to look at you.

“Was your use of profanity really necessary. I also wouldn’t call it “isolating.” I prefer to be alone.”

You laughed, “Yeah, yeah whatever makes you sleep at night.”

“Actually having thoughts of people suffering makes me sleep at night. I find it quite calming,” Wednesday said without any hesitation.

Okay now you fully understand what Enid meant by, “not ordinary roommate.”

“Thanks for oversharing that even though I didn’t ask for it.”

Wednesday turned back around to her desk, and there was silence for a few minutes.

The smirk you had before when talking to Enid came back.

“You’re quite interesting, Addams. Also quite the cute one too.”

Wednesday looked back at you with an confused expression

“Was that your attempt to try, and flirt?”

You giggled as your eyes never left hers, “Perhaps. Is it working?”

She groaned out of annoyance, and got up from her chair as she stood closer to you.

“You think too low of me. Why is it your mission to go bother me.”

You took a step closer to Wednesday Addams.

“I just find teasing someone like you, entertaining.”

Wednesday would be lying if she said that the proximity of yours faces didn’t make her whole entire body turn hot.

She was usually cold

Lunch time ended some time ago so Enid walked into the room. Seeing you and Wednesday standing close to each other.

You with your signature grin and Wednesday having always that icy expression on her face.

“Guys? Is everything alright?” Enid said tilting her head.

You both went ahead and turned your heads to Enid.

You decided to speak first, “Yeah I was just heading out. I’ll catch you later, Enid and Wednesday”

You looked at Wednesday, and had a grin on your face as you left their dorm to head back to yours.

Wednesday couldn’t help but walk back over to the desk and finish whatever she was doing before she got interrupted by you.

But unfortunately, you didn’t leave her mind. Why would you even want to tease her like that. Did you not find her scary like other students do?

Feelings are Wednesday’s worst enemy.

[oddie-odette]

SPOILERS(me just yapping about arcane)

I don’t know how to feel about the 2nd season to Arcane. Like I was crying for one second and then the horny mfs did it in what was JINXES JAIL CELL. I was like “WOAHHHHH OKAY-“ I had to pause to cry and then like lock in to something else.

Also I’m glad that Viktor didn’t just die without not knowing what would’ve happened, I’m glad he saw what Jayce saw so he knew what he needed before he went. I am very glad that they died together. It think the idea that they started with them and ended with them was so perfect so good.

Also- Maddie being a little two time bitch- omg. To be fair. She is a victim to manipulation as well but we can’t excuse that. But for Maddie I feel neutral- like yeah I don’t like her but I get it why she is who she is.

Seeing Jinx in the jail cell picking at her fingers till they bled made me realize I was doing it myself. Like I had never seen anyone in my real life and in tv shows go to that extent like I do. And I don’t do it for anxiety or anything, I do because it’s like something I need to pick at with my nails and when I say Jinx do it I was like… “I feel seen?” I mean not really, the situations are drastically different and way worse for Jinx.

Also MY WIFE SEVIKA???? Barely in the show and I know that she becomes counselor and shit but that doesn’t excuse the fact that she was barely there?? I mean yeah she comes for the big fight and it’s really powerful but I can’t help but feel way too neutral about it.

Ekko learning about timelines and loops was probably the only thing I had enjoyed while watching the whole thing go down. Like idk why but the fact that it was just so different was refreshing. I found it interesting and I wanted more of that without like any rushing.

I also felt rushed? Like everything was going all over the place- it was really fast and I can’t tell if I’m just a loser or I’m missing obvious lore that I can’t really get into right now. (That’s how I am with FNAF like I know the lore but idk about any of the books or the extensive lore stuff like my friends- I just don’t think I could get into like that.) I loved arcane. It made me cry, fear, laugh a bit- and we got the scene of sex we wanted. But like after watching it I felt strangely empty about it. Idk but the sex scene felt very inappropriate where it was set and I can’t help but feel that it’s kinda perfect for them. Like it seems like something exactly that Caitlyn and Vi would have but yet I felt really… uncomfortable? And that weird because like that shit don’t happen- I was very happy it was going to happen but maybe not the way that it did.

It’s not a downgrade. It’s a slight upgrade in my book on the terms of content. Don’t come at me but maybe I should give it a second watch when it’s not 3 AM.

[giirlblood]

baby boy ( ~ 2k words )

requested by @lottiesboy !! my first time writing a real fic in a while so i hope it's okay , i may be a little rusty . :\ mid way though i realized i was Not following the prompt as well as i meant to .. i was thinking more about repressing regression than having trouble with it ough . it has the same support && message of "it's okay to be tiny" so i'm still posting because YES but if you'd like me to rewrite it differently i can it just may take another while . tomorrow i get to go home for the first time since coming to uni i'm so super excited !! i should have more time to write && stuff then . :3 yellowjackets masterlist here , upcoming list here ^_^

summary : you're having a hard time right now && need some help regressing from your mamas . they help you to see that it's okay to be tiny !

tags / warnings : hurt comfort , sfw agere , boyre , mama ! lottie , mommy ! shauna , little ! masc reader , romantic lottieshauna / butcherqueen , yellowjackets x reader , baby yells at mama :C , but everything turns out well :3

You’ve been extremely quiet the whole day since returning from class, something abnormal for you. Usually you come home full of stories for Lottie and Shauna, hardly being able to wait until dinnertime to tell them both at once. Today has been different though. When you got home you ran straight to your room, hardly even mumbling a hello to Shauna who’d been reading on the couch let alone asking where Lottie was (her beloved garden). She’d not even had a chance to react before your door slammed loudly. You’ve been upstairs locked in your room ever since, despite soft knocking on the door from Shauna and then later Lottie asking you what’s the matter and assuring you they’re here for you. You ignored this, despite wanting to let them in, because you just didn’t want to talk. God, you're tired. 

You sigh as you hear another knock on your door. It’s Lottie. “Hi there, prince. I just wanted to check in on you…” She pauses before adding, “Mommy made your favorite if you’re feeling ready for dinner.” Your ears perk up at that. You are getting pretty hungry… Slowly you get up and move to the door, opening it a crack. This earns a smile from Lottie. “There you are.” 

You don’t reply, emerging from your room without a word and shuffling slowly towards the staircase with Lottie close on your tail. She doesn’t push you to talk which you’re grateful for. You peek your head into the kitchen where Shauna is at the stove. Lottie is soon behind you, placing a hand on your back, urging you into the kitchen. You squirm at the touch. It’s not that it’s unwanted, it's just that you’re not small right now. You don’t need to be babied, you have things to do. Adult things. Noticing your apparent discomfort, Lottie removes her hand, swiftly moving to put her hands on Shauna’s shoulders, placing a kiss on her cheek from behind. 

“Smells good, my darling.” Shauna’s cheeks flush with pleasure though you can’t see it. Lottie whispers something in her ear about getting you to come down, which embarrasses you. You pretend you didn’t hear; only a child would make a stink about something like that. And you’re not a child. 

Shauna turns around to face you offering a warm smile. “Why don’t you sit down, love. I’ll make you a plate.” You shake your head, reaching to open the cabinet and grab a plate yourself. She places a gentle hand on your arm stopping you. “Come on, I insist. I can tell you had a hard day, let me do this for you.” You take a step back, wanting to say something. You open your mouth with intent to talk back but instead you heave a sigh. Obediently you go over to the table, sinking down in your usual chair. You notice one of them has filled a sippy cup with milk and placed it at your spot. You cringe, shoving it away harder than you mean to, knocking it over in the process. 

Lottie notices immediately. “Hmmm looks like someone’s fussy tonight.” Your eyes widen and you let out a sound almost like a growl in frustration. 

“DON’T CALL ME THAT. I’M NOT LITTLE!” You yell and the volume of your voice surprises even you. Lottie shrinks back, her shocked expression hitting you like a slap in the face. Immediately you apologize three, four, five times, your head sinking into your hands. Lottie regains her composure quickly, speaking softly. “It’s all right. I shouldn’t have assumed. You’ve had a tough day, you’re allowed to feel angry.” 

You’re quiet again. Shauna places a steaming plate in front of you, and you mumble a thank you feeling embarrassed at your behavior and your caretakers’ responses to it. “A meal would be good for you right now.” You lift your head up and nod. 

“Thank you…” you repeat, unsure of what else to say. 

“Would you like to eat by yourself or can Mama and I stay?”Shauna asks gently. You’re not sure why she’s being so nice. You’ve been hiding in your room all afternoon; you just yelled at Lottie. Your eyes fill with tears. “You can stay,” you choke out. “Please stay,” you add. 

Having made herself a plate, Lottie comes to sit down next to you, immediately noticing your tears. “There, there.” She pats the hand resting next to your fork. “Are you ready to tell us what’s the matter?” You shrug. When Shauna sits down and gestures to your plate you pick up your fork and start eating, having a few bites before you say anything else. 

“It’s just… everything is hard recently. I’ve been working so much but every day there’s something new to add to the list. I just don’t want to get behind.” 

“Mhmm,” Lottie hums letting you know she’s listening. She squeezes your hand to show support, Shauna giving you a sympathetic look from across the table. You sigh, pushing onwards. “It’s not that I don’t want to regress or want to be good and all that… It’s just I can’t right now. I have more important things to do now that I’m at uni.” You sniffle. 

“Is that how you really feel? That your regression is unimportant?” Lottie’s tone is soft. You shrug. 

“Oh honey,” Shauna starts. “Your regression is important. If it helps you cope and makes you feel better then it’s super important.” She goes on seeming to pick up on what you didn’t say as well. “Your well being is what’s most important to us. Whether you’re regressed or not you will never be a burden to us, isn’t that right Lottie?” 

Lottie nods. “Oh 100%. You’re our boy whether big or small.” 

“Is that why you’re so upset today, baby?” Shauna asks you. You hesitate before nodding. She lets out a sympathetic “Awww.”Upon hearing your stomach growl loudly she motions toward your plate. “How about you finish your dinner and then we can talk more. You must be hungry.”

You nod, obediently picking up your fork and beginning to eat. “There’s a good boy,” Shauna smiles and Lottie pats your hand again. You blush, focusing on your food. You finish first and wait for Shauna and Lottie to do the same, staying silent. Your eyes are drawn to the sippy cup of milk, still knocked over. A kind of ache begins to settle over you. The frustration and hurt of the recent days slowly begin to dissipate, and you get the strong urge to pick up the cup and drink from it. But you can’t. You don’t feel even remotely small, and you’d feel too silly to drink from a sippy cup while big. 

Shauna notices you staring at it and at your empty plate. She and Lottie look at one another and Lottie nods. “Here buddy, if you’re all done why don’t I take your plate for you? Do you want to drink your milk?” You shrug, unable to look at her. 

“Sort of but… I don’t feel little…” You flush red. 

“Would you like to?” Shauna asks you and you flush an even deeper red, almost purple. You nod, feeling too embarrassed to speak. Lottie chuckles, scratching the top of your head. “All right then. Why don’t I take your plate and Mama can go grab some pjs? Would that be okay?” You nod some more still blushing. 

“Oh don’t look so embarrassed, silly boy. It’s okay if you want to be small.” You open your mouth as if to protest and she gives you a look. “I promise that. There is nothing wrong with you regressing! I’ll tell you as many times as you need me to.” You hide your face, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Your mamas are too sweet. 

Shauna picks up all three of your plates going over to the sink to wash them. You notice she leaves the sippy cup which you pick back up so it’s no longer on its side. She gives you a wink. “Let’s leave it out in case you want it a little later, hm?” You nod, following Lottie as she goes out of the kitchen and back upstairs to go pick you out some pajamas. 

She opens the hall closet full of your regression items, ranging from clothes to toys to bottles and diapers. You’re a little embarrassed upon seeing those but Lottie ignores them, instead focusing on the row of pajamas. “What are we thinking, big guy?” She pulls out a few options, a pair of puppy printed ones, and a set of footies patterned with trains. 

You slowly reach out for the puppy ones, feeling a little awkward as you still don’t feel quite little. “Can you get dressed by yourself or do you want mama’s help?” she asks gently. She gives you another reassuring smile. 

You laugh a little nervously. “I can do it myself.” She nods, turning her back as you slip into the bathroom to get changed. “You can go downstairs, ma- Lottie. I’ll be quick.” You realize your mistake after it’s done, glad Lottie can’t see you blushing as a result. Maybe you’re starting to feel a little small. 

“Are you sure, bud?” 

“Mhmm.” 

Still you can’t help but smile at the fact that she’s still standing outside when you finish changing. She coos upon seeing you and you suddenly feel shy. “You didn’t have to wait…” 

“I know, but you’ve had a hard day today. I didn’t want to leave you up here all by yourself.” 

You don’t respond, allowing her to guide you back downstairs, this time into the living room. You’re surprised when you walk in to find Shauna with your sippy cup and a big blanket, a cartoon now playing on the tv. It’s Garfield, your favorite. You stop in the middle of the room, eyes fixed on the screen, already feeling smaller than you were a few minutes ago. 

Lottie feigns shock gasping and pointing. “Who’s that, baby?” 

“GARFIELD!” You shout excitedly not looking away. Shauna chuckles.

“Shh, mama and I are right here, buddy,” she gently scolds. “But aren’t you a smart boy?” You giggle. “Why don’t you come sit down?” Shauna pats the seat on the couch next to her. “Mommy could use a little cuddle,” she continues and you run over to her, eager to oblige. 

Lottie sits down on your other side. “Room for me?” You giggle. 

“Of course! Silly Mama.” You hold onto her hand while you’re snuggling with Shauna. She plants a kiss on your forehead. 

“Such a sweet little one. Is my boy starting to feel small?” As you slip further you become less anxious and awkward about your regressing. You nod unapologetically. 

Shauna is still holding your sippy cup in her free hand, now offering it to you. “Are you ready for some milk, honey?”You nod, making grabby hands for the sippy cup. Shauna tries to place it in your hand but you whine shaking your head. “Oh? What’s the matter?” 

“Mommy give me.” Shauna looks a little confused but Lottie seems to understand. 

“I think he wants you to feed it to him, darling,” she whispers loudly. You nod. 

“Oh! Why of course my sweet boy.” You giggle, kicking your feet a little. You get yourself settled in her lap and she holds the cup up to your mouth allowing you to drink. After the big dinner you had it doesn’t take you very long to get full. You turn your head to the side, refusing the rest of the milk. 

“Oh, is baby all done?”You nod, babbling a little in response, feeling super tiny. She chucks your chin, leaning down to kiss your forehead. You stifle a yawn but Shauna catches it. “Looks like somebody’s getting sleepy.” 

“Nuh uh,” you try to say but you really are. “Stay.” 

“Okay, buddy. We can stay down here a little longer but if you’re sleepy we gotta get you to beddy bye.” You babble, trying to let her know how very wide awake you are thank you very much! Still, you don’t even make it through one more episode of your show before falling fast asleep in Mommy’s lap with your head resting on Mama’s shoulder.