#and apologies for taking so long to respond

[ohyespotatous]

Hmm... but real friendship shouldn't be measured by those things, right? 🤔

I really appreciate it when my friends respond quickly. It makes me feel valued, and I think they must be highly efficient communicators. But we all have different commitments and need personal time too :)) I think real friends with healthy and secure attachment styles should be able to honor each other's boundaries and well-being :) 💗

2024.12.28

I've been thinking a lot about friendship. I'm trying to move away from immediate communication and general constant availability as much as I can given that it has a disastrous effect on my well being. However, that has lead me to reconsider how I approach friendships. Given the dominance of instant communication, it seems inevitable that much of our friendship is measured by response-times and general availability. I don't have clear definite new metrics to judge friendships, especially given that I have been considering whether I'd consider any of my presumed friendships as such, but it's been a good exercise to reconsider what I value in friendship, what I offer in friendship and what I require in a friendship.

[raerae2727]

When they blow up at you: multiple One Piece men x reader

You make them upset and they lose their temper + how they apologize

Includes: Ace, Kid, Law, Sanji, Crocodile, Doflamingo

GN! Reader, established relationship

Warnings: language, crocodile is neglectful and doffy is toxic, both reader and kid are lowkey toxic together, ace sanji and law’s parts are sweet tho💋

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Ace

He’s always pretty upbeat and tries not to show anger around you, but one day you make a joke that takes it too far. Your relationship had always been full of humor and you simply misunderstood what was acceptable to joke about and what wasn’t. You know you messed up when Ace goes quiet and puts his head down. You put your hand on his shoulder and frantically try to apologize, but he clearly isn’t having it as he stands and tries to walk away from you.

“Ace, wait! Listen!” You call as you try to pull him back, eager to explain yourself and properly apologize. He suddenly turns around and, in front of everyone, begins to lecture you.

“Why don’t you ever take anything seriously?”

Your guilt quickly turns to anger at the hypocrisy of Ace’s words. It always seemed to you that no joke was “too far” because of the way he so freely poked fun at you, your interests, and those you care about. How dare he pin this accusation on you?

“You’re the one who can’t take anything serious!” You respond, raising your voice louder than his.

He’s basically yelling when he responds, “At least I know where to draw the line!”

“What about all those times you made fun of me? Is it only an issue when I do it back?”

Everyone is staring at you two by this point, but all you can focus on is holding back tears when Ace yells, “I guess we just don’t go well together!” He slams his hand on the table, “Good luck finding someone else who’ll put up with you for as long as I have!”

Ashamed and heartbroken, you rush to your room and cry into your pillow. It feels like an eternity before you finally hear a knock on your door. You don’t respond but Ace opens it and lets himself in anyways, setting down his hat. He sits on the edge of your bed and breaks the silence with, “Good thing I stayed calm out there, right?”

Amazed that he still has the audacity to joke around, you sit up and scold, “Ace!”

He holds up his arms defensively. “Sorry, Sorry, I’m ready to talk about it if you are. And for the record, I love putting up with you.”

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Kid

Your relationship was always explosive because of your captain’s temper, but he must have already been on edge today because this was worse than usual. Killer wanted some rest so Kid is trying to make dinner for the crew, but he absolutely sucks at cooking. He refuses to listen to your advice and tension is growing as you continue to try and help.

“Stop being so controlling! I’m the captain here!”

The smell of burnt food is getting stronger, and you can’t help but take the pan off the burner yourself. “We’re hungry. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with just accepting help for once.” You try to keep your tone neutral to avoid a fight - which is clearly ineffective as Kid grabs you by the arm and pulls you outside of the kitchen.

“Why are you so set on embarrassing me in front of my crew!?” He shouts, gripping your shoulders.

You roll your eyes and speak calmly to make him feel like he’s overreacting. “It’s not that big of a deal. It would be more embarrassing if nobody was able to eat because your ego is too big to let me help.”

Kid is infamously bad with words, so he just responds by cursing and shoving you with much more force than intended. You go tumbling back until your head hits the wall and you fall to the floor. Kid looks shocked but before he can kneel down to help, you shoot up and shout, “What the fuck was that!?!”

“I don’t know!! Are you okay?” He yells back, panicked.

“No! I’m gonna tell Killer that you’re abusing me!” You scream, not realizing the whole ship can probably hear you two by now.

“No!” Kid responds fearfully, one-upping your volume and holding you in place by your shoulders again. “I swear I’ll always listen to you from now on! I promise! Please don’t tell on me, you know it was an accident!!”

Before you can scream back, the kitchen door swings open and you two stare at Killer like deer in headlights.

“Get in here and set the table. I knew you guys wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

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Law

Law always stretches himself too thin between working late, taking care of his crew, and making sure they don’t get themselves in too much trouble. He must have been losing a lot of sleep because of this, as he’s asking you to bring him his 4th cup of coffee today and it’s not even noon.

You tell him, “I don’t think I should do that, babe. I’m sorry. You should get some rest instead.” His under eye bags are especially dark today and his hair is messy.

“I have to get this done,” he responds calmly, though you can detect a hint of annoyance in his tone. “Can you at least get someone else to make it?”

When you go behind him and rub his shoulders, he sighs and leans back in his chair. He must be exhausted. “Please, babe?” He asks once more.

“Law, you of all people should know the importance of rest.”

He pulls away from your touch and crooks his neck to look in your eyes. “And you, of all people, should appreciate the work your captain does to keep this crew out of harm’s way.” He doesn’t yell, but the scolding tone of his voice hurts you more than yelling ever could. He stands up and walks to the kitchen, presumably to make his own coffee, and you follow behind. “Can’t you just give me some alone time for once?” He snaps.

You’re growing increasingly frustrated at Law’s stubborn attitude. “You need to rest! I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re putting your health at risk.”

“Sometimes,” he grabs you by the chin and leans in, “I have to make sacrifices for this crew. Be thankful.” You can’t help but start to tear up. His harsh words stung extra when he looked at you like that. Law lets go of you and his gaze softens when he realizes how upset he’s made you. The tone of the conversation immediately shifts. “Sorry, I-” he pauses, “I didn’t realize you cared that much.”

“Of course I care.” You cry. “I love you.” You pull him into a hug and he leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ll take a nap if you promise to stop crying.” He whispers, rubbing your back.

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Sanji

“Can you add a dash of salt to the soup, love?” Asks your boyfriend. He’s recently taken to including you while he cooks, which is an honor coming from someone who takes it so seriously. He’s gentle, patient, and excessively romantic with you in every aspect of the relationship, though sometimes finds himself being a bit more firm when cooking. You waltz across the kitchen, handing over him a knife, stirring a pot, or cleaning dishes for Sanji, whose hand finds your waist each time you pass. You dip your finger into the sauce he’s making and give it a taste.

“It’s good, maybe a bit bland though,” you comment.

“Noted, head chef,” he teases back playfully while accepting your criticism and adding more seasoning. When you go to take another taste, your elbow knocks over an inconveniently placed jar of olive oil, spilling it into the sauce and all over the counter.

“Shit! I’m sorry Sanji, I’ll clean it up.” He looks a bit disappointed, but gives you a soft smile and pat on the back.

“Don’t worry love, it happens,” his tone shifts to something more firm yet still gentle, “but we only have one jar left, so try to be a bit more careful for me in the future, yea?”

“It won’t happen again, promise.” Your mistake makes you shaky with nervousness because you know how seriously Sanji takes food waste. When you reach for a towel to clean up the oil, of course you accidentally knock over a pepper shaker. It falls to the ground and shatters, pepper corns bouncing all across the floor.

Panicked, you stutter out a pleading apology while you scramble to find a broom. “Oh my god babe, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I’m so clumsy to-”

“How about you just leave the cooking to me.”

You look up, surprised at his stern voice. He doesn’t look back at you, just grips the handle of his mixing spoon angrily. Your heart drops into your stomach in shame.

“Go find someone else to help me clean up this mess, okay?” You can tell he’s trying his absolute hardest to contain his disappointment, but it’s still evident in his tone. You silently leave the kitchen, embarrassed tears stinging your eyes.

You try to calm yourself down in your room before dinner, you don’t want any of your crew mates to know about your humiliating mistakes. Not even five minutes after you had left the kitchen though, your door swings open. Sanji is on his knees with a bouquet of flowers and big puppy dog eyes looking up at you.

“I have no words to describe how sorry I am for getting upset at you. My anger was a bigger mistake than any amount of spilled food.” Your emotions quickly turn upside down and you laugh at the dramatic display.

“Sanji! I should be the one apologizing!” You run up to him and pull him into a tight hug. You reassure him, “It’s okay to get frustrated sometimes. I’m not mad!” He lets out a relieved sigh and squeezes you tight.

Smelling the bouquet, you ask, “Where did you even get these?”

“I have a stash,” and you both burst into laughter.

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Crocodile

It seems like all he does is work, and you’re fed up with it. You get so bored sitting around in Crocodile’s mansion all day while he’s locked up in his office. Luckily, he left the door ajar today and you’ll be able to force him to give you the attention you deserve. You slink through the door and hoist yourself up onto the edge of his oversized desk.

“What.” He says gruffly, not looking up from his papers.

“I’m booored,” you whine, swinging your feet, “wanna go swimming?”

Crocodile sighs and rubs his temple in annoyance, still not looking up. “Go fetch me a drink and I’ll consider it.”

“No you won’t!” You argue, “you always say that!”

He slams a fist on the table and finally looks up to meet your eyes. “Maybe I would want to spend more time with you if you weren’t so whiny! Now go!”

You’re shocked and hurt by his unexpected anger and leave defeated, looking back one last time to see him continuing his work, seemingly unbothered.

Later that night, as you’re lying in bed reading, you hear the door softly creak open. Crocodile is holding an unopened expensive perfume with a ribbon tied around it.

“I know I haven’t had a lot of time for you lately, and I’m sorry.” He sighs, setting the gift on your nightstand and undoing his tie. “We’ll go swimming next week, I promise.” He places a gentle kiss on your forehead before getting into his robe.

As you drift off to sleep, you look at the various expensive gifts he’s gotten you as apologies, knowing he will never follow through with his promises.

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Doflamingo

Making Doflamingo angry is always the last thing you want to do, but his immature sense of entitlement can be infuriating. The two of you were watching the sunset by the poolside and discussing your latest reads while waiting on a servant to bring another bottle of wine. You didn’t notice how long it was taking until he brought it up.

“What’s taking that damn worm so long?” What’s so hard about fetching a bottle of wine?” The veins in his forehead started to bulge, a telltale sign of his annoyance.

You take his hand in yours and rub your thumb into his palm, trying desperately to keep him calm. “I’m sure it’ll be here soon, Doffy. Let’s not worry about it for now - keep telling me about your book.”

He could see right through you. Any attempt at influencing his emotions always only made it worse.

“Don’t baby me. This is an act of utter insolence and I don’t know why you expect me to tolerate it.” He slaps your hand away. “I’ll give that rat a piece of my mind once it gets here.” As much as you want to just leave it at that and enjoy the rest of your evening, your unrest with Doflamingo’s behavior has been growing for weeks and you speak before you can think.

“Can’t we just have one nice evening where you don’t have to abuse someone over the tiniest thing? It’s just some wine, we’ll live.” You’re terrified to see his frown turn into a wide grin as he starts to laugh.

“Have you forgotten who I am? Who you have the privilege of being close to?” With one sweep of his arm he knocks your glass off the table, shattering it and making you jump in fear. “Get out of my sight,” He hisses.

Offended by his quick switch-up, you bargain, “Doffy, can’t we just talk abou-”

“Out!” He yells. “And that’s Young Master to you!”

You scurry inside the palace, knowing things could get ugly if you chose to stick around. You wait all night for him to come knocking on your door with a superficial apology, even a passive aggressive one, but he never shows.

That petty man child was avoiding you. A whole week goes by before you even see his face. As you’re playing chess with Diamanté (who’s even more insufferable) to pass the time, you find yourself wishing you were with Doflamingo instead. As if on cue, he struts in and ruffles your hair from behind.

“What do you say we go share a drink together, just you and me, hm?” He muses, rubbing your shoulders as if he hadn’t just disappeared for a week. Your anger towards him subsides at his touch. You know you only feel this way because of his manipulative charm, but you let yourself love Doffy anyway.

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[the-offside-rule]

Castiel Novak (Supernatural) - Baby Winchester

Requested: yes

Prompt: Cas being like a guardian angel to Y/n and Dean's baby

Warnings: none

Y/n stirred awake to the faint sound of her daughter’s cries through the baby monitor. She squinted at the clock on the nightstand; 3:14 am. Beside her, Dean was sprawled on his stomach, snoring softly, clearly exhausted from his recent hunting trip. She sighed, her heart swelling with affection. He needed rest. Silently, she reached over, turned off the baby monitor, and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "Thisis for your own good, Winchester." She whispered before slipping out of bed.

Padding softly down the hall, she stopped at her daughter’s room. The dim nightlight cast a soft glow across the nursery, and her breath hitched when she noticed someone standing by the crib. "You know, peopleusually knock before they come in." She said, gently knocking on the doorframe. Castiel turned sharply, startled. "Y/n. I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll leave now." She stepped inside, her expression calm. "It’s okay. What are you doing here?" Castiel shifted uncomfortably, his gaze flickering back to the baby. "I… thought something was wrong." He said, but the lie was transparent, his usual stoicism faltering. Y/n chuckled softly. "Cas, you’re a terrible liar. What’s really going on?"

He sighed, looking at the baby. "It… has no arms." Y/n blinked before realizing what he meant. "Oh no, Cas. She’s swaddled. Here, look." She gently unwrapped the blanket, freeing her daughter’s tiny arms. "See? She’s fine." Castiel tilted his head, his intense blue eyes studying the baby. "Ah. I see. My mistake." He stepped back awkwardly. "Well, if I’m not needed-"

"Wait-" Y/n interrupted, her tone warm. "I need to feed her anyway. Would you like to hold her and feed her downstairs?" His eyes widened slightly. "You would trust me with this?" Y/n chuckled at the ever-so-serious face Cas had made so many times before. "Of course. You're a literal angel." She said, scooping her daughter up. "Come on." He hesitated, then nodded, following her downstairs.

In the living room, Castiel perched stiffly on the armchair, glancing around the cozy space as Y/n went to the kitchen to prepare a bottle. When she returned, she handed him the baby, guiding him on how to hold her properly. "Like this." She said, adjusting his hands. "Support her head." After a moment, he frowned. "No, no. Take it back. I fear I might break it." Y/n laughed softly. "Cas, you won’t break....it. Just relax." She handed him the bottle. "Now, feed her."

Castiel began feeding her, his expression softening as he watched the baby suckle. "Oh wow. Humans are remarkable." He murmured. "So fragile, yet so resilient. Especially the little ones." Y/n smiled, settling onto the couch. "You’re practically human yourself, Cas. You’re pretty remarkable too."

Before Castiel could respond, footsteps creaked on the stairs, and Dean appeared, holding a crowbar. His serious expression melted into one of surprise when he saw Castiel feeding their daughter. "What the hell’s going on?" Dean asked, setting the crowbar down. "Why’d you turn off the baby monitor? I thought something was wrong." Y/n shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I wanted you to get some sleep. You looked exhausted."

"Why’d you say that this was for my own good? I thought you were possessed or something." Dean added. "And ypu didn't stop me then and there? You figured an extra ten minutes of beauty sleep would've helped you fight a demon better?" Dean rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze shifting to Castiel. "And what’s he doing here?" Y/n grinned. "Found us a babysitter." Castiel looked up. "I would be adequate for that position."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "As long as you don’t teach her any bad habits." Y/n scoffed, smirking at Dean. "I’d trust Cas to be a better influence than you." Dean smirked back, dropping onto the couch beside her. "You'd trust Cas?" She nodded. "I like Cas." Dean grabbed the remote and pulled her in closer. "You like me a lot too though, right?" She didn't answer, instead she grinned over to Cas. "Don’t give him that look. I know you two are gonna plot something against me soon enough."

"What? You don't live with Sam anymore so I can't plot anythin with him anytime soon."

[greengoblinswifey]

I would def love another Nicholas, Cooper and reader story. Maybe it takes place at a party or club and the reader is vibing dancing until nick and cooper take special notice of her 👀

pairing— nicholas chavez x cooper koch x actress!reader

warnings— grinding/dry humping, oral(m&f receiving), slight degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, double penetration, choking, anal, double creampie, aftercare.

a/n— apologies for the long wait, enjoy <33

The music pulsed through the club, vibrating through your chest as you swayed to the beat, lost in the moment. Tonight was about letting go, about celebrating, you’d just wrapped filming on your latest project, and the energy of the crowd was fueling.

But as you spun lightly on your heels, you froze for a moment, your gaze locking onto two familiar faces at the bar. Nicholas Chavez and Cooper Koch. Actors whose work you admired, whose talent you’d occasionally gushed about in interviews. They were here, laughing and looking like they owned the room, and for some reason, their attention was suddenly on you.

Nicholas was the first to move, his brown eyes glinting under the neon lights as he crossed the room. You could feel his gaze as he approached, slipping behind you, the warmth of his presence igniting something electric down your spine.

“Mind if I dance with you?” His voice was low, barely audible over the thumping bass.

“Not at all,” you said, breath hitching, but you nodded, leaning slightly into him.

Nicholas placed his hands lightly on your hips, his movements syncing perfectly with yours as you danced. He was confident but not overbearing, his touch firm but respectful. You let yourself melt into him, the proximity making your heart race.

Then your eyes flicked over to Cooper, who had been watching with a smirk. Feeling bold, you extended a hand, beckoning him closer. He didn’t hesitate, slipping into place in front of you, his hands gently on your hips as the three of you danced together.

“You’re stealing the attention of two guys tonight,” Cooper teased, his lips close enough to your ear to send a shiver down your neck.

“Maybe I’m just that good,” you replied, smirking.

“She knows her power,” Nicholas said, chuckling behind you.

It was playful at first, but the sexual tension built quickly. Cooper leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, exploratory kiss. You responded instinctively, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt as the kiss deepened. Then you tilted your head, your lips finding Nicholas’ next. His kiss was different, slower and deeper, his hands holding you securely as though he wanted to take his time with you.

Nicholas pulled back to meet your gaze. His voice was a low murmur against your lips. “Want to get out of here? Our hotel isn’t far.”

Your answer was a simple nod, your heart hammering in your chest.

The car ride back was filled with heat and hands. Nicholas sat to your left, his fingers tracing slow circles on your thigh, while Cooper’s hand rested on your other leg, his thumb brushing against your knee. Every touch felt intentional, the promise of more hanging in the air.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, the anticipation was almost unbearable. Nicholas opened the door for you, offering you a sly smile. “After you, beautiful.” You slowly walked in, hips swaying.

Without hesitation, Nicholas stepped forward, his hands finding the tie of your dress, tugging it free with a pull. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, as the fabric slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet.

Cooper was just as eager, his lips brushing along your neck while his hands traced your sides. “We’ve been waiting all night for this,” he added.

Before you could even catch your breath, their clothes joined your dress on the floor. Nicholas’ hands found your waist as Cooper dropped to his knees, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before he leaned forward. His lips pressed against your pussy, soft and wet, then leaving a trail of kisses down your inner thigh.

“Relax for us,” Nicholas coaxed, his fingers brushing your chin to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His lips ghosted over yours as his hand slid into your braids, anchoring you in place. “You deserve this.”

Your response was lost in the moan that escaped your lips when Cooper’s mouth worked against your wetness. The precision of his tongue sent waves of pleasure through your body, and you couldn’t stop the way your hands clutched at Nicholas’ muscular forearms for balance.

“That’s it,” Nicholas praised. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart.”

The combination of Cooper’s relentless tongue and Nicholas’ reassuring praises left you breathless. When the flick of his tongue became overwhelming, you reached for Nicholas, your fingers unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down. You didn’t have to ask for guidance, he stepped forward, his hand resting at the back of your head as you took his big, hard cock into your mouth.

“Perfect little cock sucker,” Nicholas murmured, his voice faltering slightly as your head bobbed. His hand tightened in your braids, a low moan escaping him. “So good, baby. You’re making it hard to not cum.”

Cooper’s tongue became more purposeful, his grip on your thighs firm as he brought you closer to the edge. The sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming, and it wasn’t long before your body tensed, the pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave.

The moment your pussy squirted, Nicholas followed suit, his voice hoarse as he murmured your name, his grip on you tightening for a brief second before his load shot down your throat. You leaned back swallowing it, your breaths ragged as the room spun slightly. Nicholas pulled you up gently, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he smiled down at you. “You’re fucking amazing,” he said softly.

Cooper rose to his feet, his lips curving into a satisfied grin as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You’re shaking baby,” he observed. “Nervous? Or just needy?”

“I’m fine,” you said softly, but your tone betrayed you.

“Oh, I think it’s both,” Nicholas said, tilting your chin up with his fingers. “Look at her. So desperate, she doesn’t even know what to do with herself.”

You blinked up at him, his gaze pinning you in place. “I’m not desperate,” you replied, trying to sound confident, but your voice wavered slightly.

“Sure, baby,” Cooper chimed in from behind, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “That’s why you’re standing there like you’re about to beg us to fuck you.”

“Maybe I am,” you admitted, the boldness surprising even you, “fuck, I need the both of you.”

Nicholas chuckled darkly, his hand trailing down your arm as he leaned in close. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Then let us give you what you want.”

Cooper shifted back on the bed, gesturing for you to climb into his lap. You hesitated for only a moment before crawling onto the mattress, settling back against his chest as his arms encircled your waist. Nicholas moved to kneel in front of you both, his fingers spreading open your wet pussy as he smirked up at you.

“You look so pretty like this,” Nicholas said, his voice low and taunting. “Your holes are ours, aren’t they?”

You nodded, your heart hammering as his words sank in. Cooper’s hands roamed over your waist, his touch firm but measured. His veiny cock circled your hole before he slowly sank inside. At the same time, Nicholas collected your juices on the tip of his cock before inching inside at the same pace Cooper went. “You’re doing good,” Cooper whispered into your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “But don’t think we’re going to go easy on a slut like you.”

Nicholas hands slid higher, his grip going around your neck as his smirk deepened. “She doesn’t want easy,” he said. “Do you?”

“No, I don’t, fuck me hard,” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s what I thought” Nicholas murmured, his tone almost mocking as he leaned closer. “Now be good for us, sweetheart, and we’ll make sure you feel exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

Nicholas and Cooper maintained a steady, their cocks in your holes were perfectly synchronized, your orgasm approaching with each passing moment. Nicholas’ hand rested tighter around your throat, his fingers curling ever so slightly to exert just enough pressure to keep your focus entirely on the pleasure.

“You’re doing so well for us,” he murmured. “Look at you, so perfect, just like this.”

Behind you, Cooper’s hands were everywhere, groping you, holding your hips and guiding you on their cocks. One hand drifted lower, his touch soft as he rubbed your clit, drawing moans and gasps from you that you couldn’t contain.

“Those pretty moans,” Cooper whispered.

Your breaths came in short gasps, and your body trembled as the pleasure built. Nicholas leaned down, his lips brushing against your collarbone before trailing lower to press a gentle kiss to your tits. “I can feel how close you are,” he whispered. “Don’t hold back, baby. Cum for us.”

Your head tipped back, overwhelmed by the sensations. “I— I’m about to—”you stammered, your voice shaking.

“It’s okay baby,” Cooper reassured you, his lips brushing against your neck. “Cum for us. Be a good girl.”

Nicholas tightened his grip on your throat, his eyes locked on yours. “Come on, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Show us how good of a whore you can be.”

With their words urging you on, everything came crashing down at once. Your body shook, the sensation overwhelming as you lost yourself, the release leaving you breathless and weightless all at once as you squirted all over their cocks. Cooper pressed soft kisses to your neck, murmuring praises in your ear.

“That’s our girl,” he said. “So good for us.”

Nicholas slowed, his hand slipping from your throat to brush against your cheek. “You were incredible,” he murmured, his voice softer now.

You barely registered the moment they followed, their thrusts stilling as they came inside your holes. Cooper’s hands held you close as Nicholas’ forehead rested against yours briefly, grounding you both.

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of your shared breaths. Nicholas pulled away first, his hands gentle as he helped you adjust. Cooper slipped out from behind you, moving quickly to grab a warm towel.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Cooper said, his tone soft and affectionate.

Nicholas stayed by your side, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You did so well,” he said. “We’re so proud of you.”

Cooper returned, dabbing your skin with the towel as Nicholas helped you lie back against the pillows. They both climbed into bed with you, pulling you close between them.

“How are you feeling?” Nicholas asked, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

“Perfect,” you smiled.

Cooper kissed your forehead, pulling the blankets up around all three of you. “Good,” he said. “Because you deserve nothing less.”

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69 @rain-likes-purple

[measuredingold]

my soul is useless without you

author's note: part two to i'd walk through hell for you is finally here ! i'm not sure if i want to do a third part, but we’ll see lol but i'm currently working on something for folio 👀 as always, i hope you enjoy and feedback is appreciated ! also, if yall have any requests, send them my way :) i'm in the mood to write but inspiration is running thin lol

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

divider: @saradika-graphics

word count: 3.5k

cross posted on ao3 / part one

cw/tw: angst, hurt/comfort, Noah Sebastian Is Bad At Feelings But A Good Friend, reader is going through it, anxiety, hints/mentions of depression, noah is just a good guy and cares about reader a lot ( more than he realizes ), friends to lovers pining lol, 18+ minors do not interact

It's when Jolly asks Noah in-between takes if he'd heard from you recently that the anxiety finally settles in.

Because he doesn't know the last time he's heard from you. Which isn't normal.

He's a bad texter, notorious for looking at messages and making a note to reply to them later or replying in his mind, but he always makes sure to reply to you whenever the two of you aren't together. It's just always been a thing, to always have some form of communication with you when he wasn't over at yours or if you weren't at his, so it panics him when he can't remember the last time he'd spoken to you.

He goes through your messages and finds that it wasn't him this time who didn't respond, but instead it was you. Relief washes over him briefly, the guilt of forgetting to respond to his best friend vanishing, but then that anxiety comes back full force. 

You didn't respond.

You always responded.

He sends off a quick message to you, apologizing for being in studio mode and not leaving the house and asks if you're alright. He waits. They go through another take, he somehow doesn't fuck it up even though his mind isn't all the way there. You still haven't responded by the fifth take and that's when he starts to feel sick, stomach twisting with the worry of what could be wrong. 

He tries to think back to if you've ever gone this long without speaking and he can't think of a time when that has happened. 

"Earth to Noah." Jolly's voice pulls him away from his thoughts.

"Oh. Uh, sorry." 

"All good, man." His bandmate eyes him for a second before his eyes flicker towards his phone. "She respond?"

"Um. No." His brows furrowed as he stared at his phone, the black screen mocking him. "Kind of worried."

"Yeah... I am, too." Jolly murmurs. He clicks around on the screen a few times before twisting his chair around to fully face Noah, arms crossing over his chest. "You should go over there. Check and make sure she's alright."

Noah raises a brow at him. "We're in the middle of recording?"

"And?" Jolly shrugs, waving him off. "We got a lot done today, we can wrap it up. Something's obviously wrong and she might need you. That's more important than some song."

He blinks at his friend, letting his words settle in. Jolly's right, he thinks. You are more important than whatever song they're working on. That confirmation makes him feel funny, something tightening beneath his chest but he ignores it, nodding slowly. 

"Okay. You wanna come?"

Jolly shakes his head. "Nah. The both of us might be overwhelming. If you do need me then call, if not..." He shrugs again before lifting himself up out of his chair, groaning softly to himself, "...might be best for just you to go. She'd probably feel better if it's just you, anyways. You know how she is."

Noah isn't quite sure what he means, but nods along anyways. He checks his phone again and still no text, but he notices that you read the message. He should feel relieved at the sign of life but it only makes his anxiety worse, stomach twisting violently. 

"Okay. I'll text you when I get there." 

He's practically running out of the studio after that, the only thing on his mind was you. He needed to make sure you were okay. Deep down he knew that if this was him, you would've already been here, and he feels guilty all over again. He should've paid more attention, shouldn't have let this slip his mind so easily. He thinks back to your last messages together and how you were talking about your work day, overwhelmed and quite frankly, upset about it all. He should've paid closer attention.

He makes it to yours in record time, legs moving him to the door before he can even think about it. He sends up a quiet prayer to the universe that you had given him an extra key months ago and uses it to unlock the door, slowly pushing it open.

He calls out your name, but no answer.

His eyes sweep over your apartment as he enters, scanning the open space. Your kitchen looked untouched, minus the few dirty dishes that were in your sink. A few boxes of Chinese take-out and some bottles of water. He feels almost relieved. You'd been eating and as far as he can tell you'd been keeping yourself somewhat hydrated, so that was a plus. He knows how bad you can be when you get into this headspace - brain fog, forgetting to do basic things like eating and drinking water. But this... this is a step in the right direction.

His eyes move towards the living room and it's just about the same. A pile of blankets lay together at one end of the couch, pillows scattered along the length of the cushions. You'd been there quite a bit, he can tell, but other than that nothing was too bad.

Noah feels like he can breathe for just a second, eyes going straight to the cracked open door to your bedroom. He hears the faint hum of your television and hears the muffled voice of your favorite characters in your favorite comfort show. His chest tightens. You only ever watch it when things get bad inside your head, when things start to become too overwhelming and you need to cling onto something that you know. Something that won't throw any surprises at you and make things worse. 

He makes his way towards your room, ready to call out your name again as he pushes open your door but stops halfway. You're curled up in your bed, covered in a pile of blankets. He steps closer to get a better look at you and he doesn't think he's ever seen you look so peaceful. Lashes against the tops of your cheeks, lips parted. The crease between your brows is relaxed, which never happens. 

Noah takes a deep breath.

You're alright. He can see that you're safe and sound, at least for now, and that's enough for him. He shuts your door behind him and makes his way back into the main room, taking his shoes off by the door. He takes another deep breath to center himself as he looks around your space, hand finding its way to his hair. 

He decides he'll clean up your kitchen and living room. It isn't too bad, and it won't take him too long. He also just... doesn't want to leave yet. He'll wait until you wake up. Make you talk to him, ask what’s up. Probably make you eat something. Then he'll head home. 

Sounds like a good plan to him.

Even though your door is shut he still tries to be quiet, making sure to carefully wash and put away your dishes without making too much of a fuss. After the dishes, he throws away all the take-out boxes and water bottles. He even makes a note to take the trash out for you when he's all done, because he knows you would've done it for him. 

The constant reminder of you and knowing that you'd do something like this for him, and have, is the motivation he needs to continue. It makes him feel warm all over and he thinks how lucky he is to have someone like you as his best friend.

And he definitely ignores the bitter taste in his mouth at the word best friend. 

It's maybe an hour after he's finished, curled up on your couch that now has its pillows in place, and the pile of blankets are neatly folded and put away, that you finally emerge from your room. You rub the sleep out of your eyes, not noticing him on the couch at first, but when you do you make a noise of surprise that has Noah laughing.

"Hey."

He notices the slight flush of your cheeks but ignores it. "Hi?"

"I uh," He scratches the back of his neck, sending you a sheepish smile. "Hadn't talked to you in a few days. Got worried. So did Jolly. Told me to come over. Check on you. You were sleeping so I just," He throws his arms around, gesturing to the space around him, "cleaned up a little? Figured you would appreciate a clean house when you woke up so..." 

He's talking too much, he knows it, but he can't seem to stop the word vomit from coming out. Noah knows you wouldn't mind, but he was nervous, especially because all you do is stare at him without saying a word. Stare and stare and stare until you sniff, brows furrowing.

"...Thanks."

You're unusually quiet and it makes his stomach turn again. You sniff again and Noah swears you look like you're on the verge of tears, and he sits up on the couch. He watches you closely as you wring your hands together in front of you, mouth opening and closing as if you want to say something. You don't, and Noah catches the exact moment when your bottom lip trembles, and he's moving before he can even think about it.

"Hey. It's okay. You’re okay."

He tries to keep his voice soft and free of any panic, but his heart is beating so rapidly against his chest he swears you can hear it. You sniff again, head shaking as your lip continues to tremble and he does the only thing he can think of. He pulls you into his arms and presses you into his chest. You don't move for a second, but eventually your arms circle around his waist. You squeeze, tight, but he doesn't mind. He just squeezes you back. 

Your body begins to shake as the cries start to rack through you, the sound muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Noah swallows down the lump that was beginning to form, cheek resting on the top of your head. He's always hated when you cry. He himself wasn’t one for much display of emotions, but when it came to the people he cared about, he hated seeing them anything but happy. 

Especially you.

He's seen you cry a few times. Well, more than a few times. Sometimes it was over nothing, and then sometimes it was over an incredibly cute dog you'd seen scrolling on Twitter. He didn't mind those, but when it was over something serious, he fucking hated that. He never wanted you to be anything but happy, and whenever you weren’t, it’s like a piece of him breaks. 

“What’s wrong?” He whispers into your hair, trying to pull you even closer to him.

“Everything.” You eventually mumble against his chest, sucking in a deep breath as you try to control your tears. “Fucking everything is wrong.” 

He fucking hates the way that answer makes him feel. His chest feels like it's on fire, and he swears his heart just fucking broke at how sad you sounded, voice muffled by his shirt. He squeezes you to his chest again.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

He wants you to talk about it, to tell him what's wrong so he can make it better. Noah knows it'll probably be damn near impossible to even do that, but god, he'd try absolutely anything to make your tears stop. You take a long moment to respond, trying to control your breathing, before you eventually shake your head against his chest.

"Not right now." 

"Okay.” He mumbles, raising a hand to smooth down your hair. “That's okay, we don't have to."

"Thank you."

You stay like that for a moment, in the middle of your living room. Noah doesn't plan on letting go any time soon, thinking for a split second that he wished he could keep you in his arms forever. If you were there, he'd always know if you were okay. The thought fades before he could think too hard about it when you finally pull away from him, and Noah catches sight of your slight red and blotchy face. He frowns.

He doesn't remember the last time he's ever seen you so sad. So defeated. Whatever was going on really pained you, and he wishes you'd just tell him so he can fix it. Another passing, fleeting thought, but he thinks he'd do just about anything right now to see you smile again. 

"Have you eaten?" He breaks the silence between the two of you, not waiting to hear whatever you were planning on saying.

You blink up at him. "Um... no. Not since this morning. Had some fruit and coffee." 

"I figured." He guides you towards the couch, practically pushing you onto it. You snort when he grabs a throw blanket and dumps it onto you. "Pick something to watch." 

It's not a question, but more of a command, and Noah ignores the way his chest flutters at the small smile you give him. He turned away from you, pushing whatever feeling was brewing inside of him so far down and got his brain to focus. Food. You need food. To be honest, so does he. He’d been so worried about you for the last few hours that he didn’t even think of getting something to eat. 

It takes him a few minutes of rummaging around your kitchen to settle on making something easy - instant ramen. He’s surprised you hadn't eaten it all in the week you’ve been off-grid, but thankful nonetheless. Noah's way too impatient to wait any longer to actually cook something, especially knowing you hadn't eaten anything since this morning. Every so often he looked over his shoulder to watch you, wishing you'd say something, but would find you either staring blankly at the television or your phone.

A bitter taste settles in the back of his throat every time he turns back around to the stove. He hated this, and he fucking hated that he couldn't do a goddamn thing about it.

He brings your bowl to you once he's finished, already making a mental note to clean up the mess he had made while cooking. You blink up at him and reach for it, giving him a quiet, "Thank you."

Noah doesn't verbally say anything, just hums out a response as he ventures back into the kitchen to grab you something to drink. When he comes back he notices you had slowly begun to eat, and he feels his shoulders finally relax. Just knowing you ate something eases him, the tension in his body leaving him completely. You're already reaching out for the glass of water in his hand that he happily hands off to you, giving you a gentle smile.

"Need anything else?"

You shake your head, peering up at him. "No. Just want you to come sit with me." 

That same fluttery feeling beneath his chest returns and he wishes he could ignore it again, but it doesn't go away. No, it stays perched underneath his chest, as if it's decided that it's making a home there and never leaving. He doesn't say anything, just nods at your request before grabbing his own bowl and a Pepsi you had in the fridge before making his way back to you.

You wait until he's settled on the couch to scoot closer to him, legs pressed flushed together. You're already halfway through your ramen and for a split second he forgets that weird feeling in his chest, instead focusing on the intense pride filling him. He was able to get you to eat, he was able to help out in some way. Knowing you were alright for the most part and it was from his doing made him feel good.

The both of you eat in silence as whatever show you decided to put on plays in the background. He’s just now realized it was The Office, and he huffs out a small laugh at something Michael Scott said. Another one of your comfort shows, something easy. 

It isn't until you both are finished with your food and Noah's back in the kitchen cleaning up that you finally speak. He doesn't hear you come up behind him, focused on washing the dishes and making sure everything's clean and good to go, so he can't help but jump when he feels your arms slip around his waist and squeeze.

"Shit." He swears, followed by a breathy chuckle. "You scared me."

You don't say anything to that, just squeeze him harder and he feels you press your face against his back. Then ever so softly, he picks up the faintest, "Thank you," muffled against his back. His face flushes, eyes casting down to the soapy water his hands were currently submerged in. He's glad you can't see the blush on his cheeks, and he fucking hopes you can't hear the way his heart is pounding beneath his chest. Can probably feel it, though, and that makes his face burn even more. 

"For what?" He manages to mumble out, resuming his efforts. Your arms squeeze his waist again.

"For being here." You sound so small. "You don't have to be, but you are, and I can't thank you enough for that."

"You'd do it for me." His response comes easily, voice nonchalant because it's true. He knows you'd do the same for him, and the thought has his stomach flipping every which way. "And have done it for me. It's the least I can do."

You're silent after that but don't part from him, and Noah can't help the smile that spreads across his lips at the feeling of you rubbing your face against him. It makes him feel warm all over, and that damned fluttery feeling in his chest is back yet again. You stay like that until he's finished with the dishes, moving with him as he shuffles to the side to dry them off. You don't pick your head up even when he manages to turn in your arms, finally facing you. 

Noah's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him and now you can rub your face against his chest. He laughs softly, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

"Still don't wanna talk about it?" He knows he's pressing but he can't help it, a part of him still needs to know what's wrong and how he can fix this for you.

You shake your head. "Not yet. Tomorrow, okay? I just... don't wanna think about it tonight."

"Okay." He thinks he can handle that. 

"Thank you." You say again and finally lift your head up from his chest, blinking up at him. There's still a sadness there, roaming around behind your eyes, but not as prevalent as it was earlier. He’s at least done something right. "I'm really fucking lucky to have you, you know that, right?"

The way you're looking up at him is overwhelming, Noah's throat tightening at the softness surrounding your tired eyes. You smile at him and this time it reaches your gaze, not faked but real, and his heart slams against his chest. A thought passes his mind again, something he hasn't thought of in years, and he pushes it back with a hard swallow.

"You're just saying that because you didn't have to do the dishes."

You roll your eyes but that smile never drops from your lips, and Noah thinks he'd like to keep you smiling like that for the rest of his life. 

"Shut up. I'm being serious." You're giggling now, eyes crinkling and he catches a glimpse of the real you for the first time in hours - probably days, weeks even. 

"So am I." Noah yelps when you pinch his side, your laughter growing louder. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to be nice here, asshole. You can at least try, too."

He softens at that, eyes meeting yours. He's well aware his face is on fire right now, cheeks pink.

"You already know I'm lucky to have you. Didn't realize I had to say it."

Even if he doesn't say it often, he is very lucky. So incredibly lucky to have you in his life, for sticking by him and for understanding him. For always being patient with him. Jolly reminds him occasionally how lucky he is to have you, how all of them are lucky to have someone like you in their lives. He doesn't know what the fuck he or anyone did to be so deserving of you, but dammit, he's fucking thankful for it everyday. 

You don't say anything, just continue to beam up at him and Noah can't seem to stop himself, tilting his head down to brush his lips against your forehead. He feels you press further into his chest, if it was even possible, and practically melt in his arms. 

He wishes he could keep you here forever, tucked away in his arms. He thinks there isn't much he wouldn't do to keep you safe, to make sure you were okay, and that thought alone scares him. He'd never admit it, at least not out loud, and he tucks that thought away for another time. Or to possibly be never thought of again, he doesn't know. He doesn't really care.

No, all he cares about right now is that you're okay, at least for now, and that you're nestled against his chest like it's the only place you want to be. 

And that's enough for him. 

[earthchica]

Make It Right

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: Terry makes it right and apologizes to you for his words and his behavior; soon, you and Terry talk through your issues, getting a better understanding of each other and rebuilding your communication.

warnings: angst, slight communication issues, serious conversation, explicit smut (18+), light daddy kink, oral (f), rough pent-up sex, making out, flirting, fluff, domestic life, romantic dinner, family vacation, nicknames [ baby, sweetheart, mama, baby girl & more ] words: 5k

note: please enjoy, but there may be some errors.

sequel to { funny how time flies } mini-series masterlist previous chapter { everything I ever wanted }

You heard the soft creak of the bedroom door as it opened and then shut, the sound echoing in the quiet bedroom. Suddenly, a familiar warmth enveloped you as Terry wrapped his arms around you, trying to pull you into an embrace.

You could feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, but frustration bubbled up inside you. “Get off of me, Terry!” you exclaimed, your voice sharp and annoyant as you firmly shoved him away.

You shifted towards the head of the bed, separating you from the man you hurt your feelings. Terry stood there, a blend of guilt and despair washing over his features.

“I’m sorry, baby. I-I,” Terry stammered, his words tumbling out in a rush as his eyes roamed your face, searching for a glimmer of understanding.

The remorse in his gaze was sincerity, which struck a deep chord within you. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” He sat on the bed and moved closer, extending a hand as if trying to bridge the emotional depth that had formed between you.

“I’m so grateful to have you; you’re such an incredible wife and an amazing mother to our son.” His voice cracked slightly, laden with the weight of his apology, as he pleaded for you to see the truth in his words.

"No, why would you say you're tired of me? How could you say something like that to me of all people?" you yelled, your voice rising as a flood of emotions engulfed you.

A mix of anger and hurt made your heart race. "Baby, I didn't mean—" Terry started to respond, his voice still remorseful, but you couldn't let him finish.

You cut him off, allowing your pent-up emotions to spill like water gushing from a broken dam.

"Do you even grasp how I've been feeling these past few months?" your voice trembled, each word charged with frustration and hurt. "It feels like I'm carrying the whole load on my shoulders, all alone."

"If you’ve been feeling this, why didn't you communicate that to me? You know I'm not a damn mind reader!” Terry shot back, his tone rising and more urgent.

"So it's my fault again?” you retorted, your frustration boiling. “Why don't you take some accountability for once, Terry? You used to know how to support me or recognize when I was struggling without me having to spell it out for you."

Your words hung in the air, charged with the weight of unspoken expectations and the longing for understanding that felt increasingly out of reach.

Terry took a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he faced you directly, the moment's weight heavy between you. “Look, I know I messed up badly,” he began, his voice low and sincere.

“I hurt you, and that’s not right. I should have never said I was tired of you. That was just disrespectful. You deserve so much better than that.”

Terry paused, searching for the right words, his eyes filled with regret. “I see how hard you work every day taking care of our son. You do everything for our family; I have taken that for granted. I haven’t been there like I should have been, allowing my frustrations to cloud my judgment.”

Terry stepped closer, his hands outstretched, palms up. “I got no excuses. What I said was wrong, and I’m ashamed of it. You’ve been carryin’ so much, I’m sorry, for real. I wanna make it right, whatever it takes. I'll support you better, listen more, and be the husband I know I can be.”

As he spoke, you could see the love and remorse etched on his face—deep lines of worry creased his brow. But it was hard for you to process his words fully at that moment.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the anger decrease slightly. "I hear you, Terry,” you said softly, almost dismissively. “But right now, I just need some space…I think you should sleep on the couch.”

You get off the bed to grab your shower cap, go to the bathroom, and close the door. You hear Terry leave the bedroom, the silence filling the space again.

After your shower, you take your time with your night routine, meticulously applying your skincare products as if the physical act could somehow cleanse the emotional turmoil still swirling inside you.

Each motion rhythm felt almost meditative, yet the weight of the conversation earlier loomed heavily in your mind. You are dressed in a comfortable tank top and pajama shorts, feeling the fabric against your skin, a small comfort amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

Finally, you climbed into bed, the sheets cool against your skin, but the emptiness beside you felt overwhelming. The thought of Terry not being close to you despite the hurt made the room quiet.

You wrapped the thick blanket tightly around you, trying to find solace in the familiar fabric, yet you couldn't shake off the need for his presence.

Deep down, you craved the warmth of his body next to yours, the security you felt when he embraced him, even if your heart still stung from his words.

With a shaky sigh, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and decided to seek him out. You padded down the hallway, glancing at the clock—it was already late, and you wondered how long you’d been lost in thought.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, the sight of him slumped over on the small loveseat in the living room tugged at your heart. His long frame seemed crammed into the little seat, the edges of the cushions barely accommodating his size.

“Terry…” you called softly, barely rising above a whisper. He lifted his head at the sound of your voice, eyes widening with surprise and a hint of hope.

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his voice thick with fatigue. “Um...” you started, crossing your arms over your chest, unsure how to proceed.

The remnants of the hurt and irritation still lingered, yet the sight of his uncomfortable state and weary expression stirred something inside you.

“Come to bed,” you said softly with no expression, and his expression shifted to relief. “Are you sure?” Terry asked, a mixture of cautious optimism laced in his tone.

“Yeah, just…come on,” you replied, trying to sound more convinced than you felt. Terry was always so imposing as he stood up but looked helpless and small.

Without another word, he followed you back upstairs, and the silence between you felt thick. As you entered the bedroom, you climbed back into the bed, the sheets still warm where you had been.

Terry lingered by the door momentarily, hesitation clear on his face. “Are you still upset?” he asked, his voice soft yet heavy with concern. “I am,” you replied, not wanting to lie or sugarcoat the situation.

“But I don’t want to sleep alone. Maybe we can talk more tomorrow when we’re both in a better headspace.” You said softly. Terry nodded, understanding and regret evident in his eyes.

With a heavy sigh, he climbed into bed beside you, leaving a respectful and cautious distance between you. The silence hung between you until it was almost suffocating, but neither knew how to break it.

Instead, you both lay there, staring at the ceiling and pretending to be asleep. Eventually, sleep found its way to you both. The night felt long, but eventually, morning came with the promise of a new day.

As the sun peaked through the curtains, you stirred awake first, feeling the warmth of Terry's body against you, and you glanced over at him; your heart softened just a bit as you watched him breathe softly.

After last night's argument, some of you wanted to stay angry and distant from Terry, but another part just wanted things back to normal. You knew in your heart that you two would work this out somehow.

You turn over, gently reach over, and place your hand on his cheek before returning to sleep. Terry stirred slightly and cracked open an eye if you felt your touch even in his sleep.

Terry softly smiled at your sleepy state, knowing he had to make things right. He reached for his phone, the soft glow illuminating the dim room.

Sitting up, he took a deep breath, preparing himself for a tough day ahead—not at work, but at home. He scrolled through his contacts, dialing in to call your uncle.

“Hey, Uncle Eddie,” he said after a few rings. “I won’t be coming in today…yeah, personal reasons. I need to be home…Okay, thank you.” As he hung up, he glanced over at you, still half-asleep.

Terry slid out of bed quietly, careful not to wake you. Padding softly to the baby’s room, he gently lifted Elijah from the crib. Cradling him in his arms, he marveled momentarily at how small and innocent his son looked.

“Good morning, little man,” Terry whispered, bouncing Elijah slightly as he went downstairs to the kitchen. He set the little one in the high chair, securing him safely with the straps.

The baby’s sleepy gaze slowly transformed into a wide-eyed curiosity as he watched his daddy move about the kitchen. With Elijah happily sitting in his chair, Terry began preparing breakfast.

Terry rummaged through the fridge, pulling out eggs, milk, and fresh fruit. As he cracked the eggs into the skillet, their sizzling brought a sense of calm.

Cooking had always been a form of therapy for him. “Let’s get you some breakfast, too, huh?” he chimed to Elijah as he quickly poured him a bottle.

Terry could hear Elijah's soft noises of delight, making focusing easier. Deep down, he hoped that doing this would show you his sincerity.

After feeding Elijah, Terry made a generous portion of the breakfast for you and himself and set the table. As you wake up to an empty bed, you glance at the time and feel slightly panicked.

However, you hear Terry's voice through the baby monitor, talking to Elijah in the kitchen about you, hoping this would be the start of you forgiving him for your argument last night.

As you got out of bed, rubbed the sleep from your eyes, went to brush your teeth, and washed your face before strolling downstairs towards the kitchen.

The aroma of breakfast wafting through the air, making your stomach rumble. Terry turned as he caught sight of you, a sheepish smile lighting up his face.

“Morning,” he said warmly, his voice brightening the atmosphere. “I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite,” he added; you tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “My favorite?”

“Yeah,” he replied, setting a plate on the table before you. “Eggs, pancakes, bacon, and fresh fruit. I know you usually love a little bit of everything.”

As you sat, Elijah babbled enthusiastically in his high chair, excited to see both of you. You couldn’t help but smile at your son and kiss his forehead. "Good morning, baby boy"

You started to eat, the first few bites eliciting a sense of normalcy you desperately craved. “Thanks for making breakfast, Terry,” you said softly, focusing on Elijah. “It smells amazing.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” Terry admitted, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I know.....last night. I hate that we left things unresolved.”

You looked up from your plate, gauging Terry’s expression. His eyes were sincere, mixed with an undercurrent of regret. “Yeah, I appreciate that you’re trying this morning.”

Terry nodded slightly, the weight of his guilt apparent in each motion. “I just want you to know again I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was just frustrated, and I didn’t handle it well.”

You paused before responding. “I get that, Terry, but when you said that to me...my heart broke, and I thought we were locked on this, I thought-.”

“I know,” he replied, his tone dropping to a more serious level. “It’s just so hard sometimes, balancing everything— Elijah, work, our marriage. I let the stress get the best of me and took it out on you.”

"Well, I think we really need to work on our communication because ever since Elijah was born, I feel like we've lost sight of that strength we've built," you said, your voice filled with realization.

Terry acknowledged the tension in his shoulders, easing just a bit. “You're right. I've noticed it, too. I miss how we used to talk, how we could share anything without worry.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of those words resonating deeply. “Yeah, me too. Remember those late-night talks we used to have? We'd stay up for hours just dreaming about our future, making plans together. Now it feels like we're just trying to survive the day.”

“Yeah,” he said, his expression softening. “I want to go back to that. “We have to find a way to carve out time for us, even if it's just small moments here and there.”

“What do you think that looks like?” you asked, genuinely curious. “How can we make it happen?” you added. Terry took a moment, clearly contemplating.

“Maybe we could set aside a few minutes each night after Elijah goes to bed. We could just talk about our day or even watch something together. Something light and fun.”

“That sounds nice,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face. “I would love that. But I also think we need to be able to have those conversations when things get tough. It can't all be about being positive; we must address the heavy stuff, too.”

Terry thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in concentration. “You're right. I think it's so easy to avoid conflict, thinking it will just resolve itself. But it won't, will it? We have to face it head-on before resentment builds up.”

“I can be guilty of that too,” you admitted, feeling the weight of the past few months crash over you. “I've been just bottling things up instead of expressing my feelings. It’s easier to keep the peace, even if it eats away at me.”

“I get that,” he said softly, his gaze steady on you. “But I promise to do better. I want to hear what you say, baby, no matter how difficult. I care about your feelings and will be a better husband; I want to be a better husband.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “Thank you, Terry. That means a lot, and you are a good husband and a father. We're in a tough patch, and I'm sure we'll get through. I want you to feel the same way. We need to make this a mutual effort. If I ever say something that bothers you, please don't hesitate to let me know.”

Terry reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. “You have my word. And I hope you know I'm committed to strengthening our marriage. There's nothing more important to me than you and Elijah; “I love you, baby.”

"I love you too, Terry." With those words lingering in the air, you both shared a transformative moment of understanding. It wasn't an immediate solution to all your problems, but it was a solid step.

-

The past few weeks have been a turning point for both of you. Communicating openly like you used to, sharing your thoughts and feelings without the weight of tension lingering in the air, had lightened the load on your heart.

As you and Terry cuddled on the couch, the warmth of his body against yours felt comforting. The lamp's soft glow lit the room just enough to create an intimate atmosphere.

You watched Elijah through the baby monitor, sleeping peacefully in his crib. “Wow, you came through, huh?” you said playfully, playing with his ears.

“I feel like I barely had to lift a finger with the housework and Elijah. You got my back like that?” You said with a smile. Terry chuckled, leaning closer to you.

“Well, if I keep you happy, it’s a win-win situation, right?” He pretended to flex his muscles, and you both laughed at the moment's silliness.

“You’re so crazy,” you teased, smirking at him. “But real talk, I appreciate it. I feel like I can finally breathe again. It’s been a minute since we had this together.”

“Right? I missed this, alot, I mean a lot a lot ” Terry expressed, his face turning soft. He brushed his thumb along your cheek, making your heart flutter.

“You know I love you, sweetheart, I wanna see you shine and be happy,” Terry said, and you smiled, feeling a little bashful under his gaze.

“Aww, Terry, I love you too so much. I know I can get caught up in my head often, but having you step up like this? It just makes me feel so much better.”

Terry leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips. “You keep saying how I stepped up, but it’s us together making it work. You’re the heart of this whole household, baby.”

Terry paused momentarily, still gazing into your eyes, and you could feel the heat rising between you. “We’ve been keeping things going in the house lately, being a team.”

“True, that's how it's supposed to be. And it feels good to be back in sync,” you responded, feeling at ease. “It’s nice to know you’re all in, and I’m all in too.”

With that, Terry leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a slow kiss. It was sweet at first, but gradually, it deepened, both of you melting into the moment as your bodies relaxed against each other.

A playful glint sparkled in his eye when he gently pulled away, hinting at a fun idea. “You know,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement.

"We should plan a little family getaway. Somewhere we can kick back and truly relax.” He said deeply low. “A vacation?” you replied, raising an eyebrow in intrigue.

“Really?” you asked, and Terry leaned closer, the enthusiasm contagious as he continued. “Yeah! How about we spend a weekend at that villa we used to visit in Cancun?"

"And we could invite your parents to join us. It would be an excellent opportunity to unplug from all the chaos and have fun.” His eyes lit up with the thought, a sparkle mirroring his excitement.

You couldn't help but bite your lip, imagining the warm sands and gentle ocean breezes. “That sounds amazing! I adore that place. It holds so many wonderful memories for us."

"—it’s where it all began. Plus, this would be Elijah's very first vacation! What a special way to introduce him to such a beautiful location.” You gasped.

Terry chuckled softly, “So, you wanna do it?” You nodded enthusiastically, a grin spreading across your face. “Let’s do it! I can already envision the memories we can make.”

Cancun, Mexico

The sun hung high in the cerulean sky, casting a warm golden glow over the peaceful Cancun shoreline as the day unfolded—a perfect Sunday morning.

The gentle sound of waves lapping against the soft, powdery sand created a soothing rhythm while a refreshing breeze played against your dark-brown skin, carrying the faint scent of salt and beach flowers.

Elijah giggled uncontrollably as he splashed playfully in the sandy oasis around him. Tiny grains of sand stuck to his little fingers and toes, glistening like miniature jewels in the sunlight.

You and your mom were fully immersed in the moment, working together to construct an elaborate sandcastle. Its towers rose proudly, decorated with seashells and bits of seaweed, as you all hoped it could withstand the approaching tide.

“Look at you, Eli! You love the sand, huh?!” you exclaimed, your heart swelling with affection. The moment's joy was captured forever as you snapped a picture of his bright smile, his hazel eyes sparkling with delight.

Elijah's laughter echoed around you, filling the air with pure joy as you and your mom continued to shape the sandcastle. Your dad strolled, still wet from his time on the jet skis, with a broad grin.

“Y’all got some serious skills over here!” he called out, surveying the castle. "That’s lookin’ like a real palace for my grandbaby!" Your mom chuckled, smoothing out a rough edge of the sandcastle.

“A palace fit for a prince! Ain’t he just the cutest?” She looked down at Elijah, who was now trying to pick up a handful of sand and giggling when it slipped through his tiny fingers.

“Right?” you replied, grinning. Your dad squatted beside Elijah, chuckling as the baby reached out toward him, his little hands covered in sand.

“Hey, Eli? Are you makin’ masterpieces over here? You tryna start a sand empire?” He asked. Elijah let out a squeal of delight, and your dad couldn’t help but laugh.

“Aww, look at that smile! He’s sayin’ ‘I got this, grandpa!’” Just then, Terry wandered back from the jet skis, a towel draped around his neck.

“What's going on? Y’all makin’ a sandcastle? I wanna see!” Terry said, leaning down, peering curiously at Elijah. “And there’s my number one fan!”

“Look at him, Terry!” you exclaimed, scooping Elijah into your arms as his face lit up at the sight of his daddy. “He’s ready to take on the beach. He’s got sand in places I didn’t even think was possible!”

Terry laughed, reaching out to tickle Elijah’s belly, causing him to burst out in another fit of giggles. “Man, how did we get so lucky? He’s a whole treasure out here!”

“Right, such a blessing!” your mom chimed in. You looked at the happy scene around you—your parents, your husband, and your precious son—and felt your warm heart swell.

“This is what it’s all about, y’all. Family!” You said softly, and Terry smiled at you sweetly. “That's right!” your dad agreed, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“We gotta make the most of these days, y’know? Family, fun, and all this love. Ain’t nothin’ better!” With everyone laughing and loving on Elijah, the sun shone brightly overhead, casting a golden glow over your little beach paradise.

Later.

The afternoon unfolded beautifully as your family gathered around the spacious dining table at the villa, sharing a delightful lunch filled with laughter and stories.

The warm sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow on the cozy living room where everyone eventually settled in. Plush cushions beckoned from the oversized sofas, and the aroma of delicious food lingered in the air.

Your parents, visibly relaxed and content, cherished their time with Elijah, engaging in lighthearted conversations that filled the room with joy and warmth.

Terry leaned over to you, a playful grin on his face. “How about a little adventure?” he whispered, eyeing your parents, who were busily playing their grandson.

“What do you have in mind, handsome man?” you asked, intrigued. Terry glanced toward your mom and dad. "Well, I would you love to take you out for dinner? Just the two of us?”

Your heart raced with excitement. “Really? What about Elijah?”

“Don’t worry,” he replied, giving you a reassuring smile. “I’ll ask your parents to watch him, so we can have some time for ourselves.” You couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of a romantic evening.

With every detail, he sparked a thrill in your heart that had been dormant for too long. “Okay, you’ve got a deal!” You said with a smile, you rushed upstairs to freshen up.

You pulled out a multicolored sundress adorned with shapes and designs. You applied some light makeup, focusing on a touch of lip gloss that shimmered in the fading sunlight.

Staring at your reflection, you felt nostalgia and excitement, feeling beautiful and ready for the evening ahead. When you returned to where your parents and Elijah were gathered, your dad raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

“Wow, look at you, miss thang! Someone’s got a hot date!” He teased, and you laughed. “Just a little dinner with Terry. He has a surprise planned for us.”

"Sounds wonderful! And you two deserve it, sweet pea." Your dad said with a light smile on his face, and your mom clapped her hands together.

“Yeah. We’ll take good care of Elijah. You both go enjoy your night!” Your mom said with a smile, and you nodded, giving Elijah a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

You met Terry at the beach's edge, his eyes lighting up as he took in your dress. “You look stunning, baby,” Terry said, taking your hand as you walked together towards the car.

The drive was filled with easy conversation and laughter. As you neared your destination, you noticed a seaside restaurant nestled under twinkling lights, music wafting from within.

“Is this our spot?” you asked, excitement bubbling. “Yup! I figured we could have a nice dinner followed by some dancing,” he said with a wink, holding the door open for you as you stepped out.

Inside, the ambiance was warm and inviting, with flickering candles on the tables and soft music playing in the background. After being seated, you both ordered and sipped on lemonade while discussing anything.

Terry leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “So, you got any plans for when we take over the dance floor, huh?” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You chuckled softly, tilting your head. “Oh, don’t you worry about that, Mr. Smooth! I’m ready to turn this place out.” You twirled strands of hair around your finger, feeling the chemistry between you.

Terry raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Oh really now? Do you think you can keep up with me? I might spin you so fast you'll forget where you are!”

You laughed, biting your lip playfully as you met his gaze. “Honey, I was born ready! Just wait till I hit you with these hips. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

“Is that a challenge, baby girl?” Terry asked, feigning shock as he leaned closer. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you like a warm hug.

“Because if it is… well, I’m here for it.” His voice dipped low, drawing you in. The waiter arrived with your appetizers, but neither of you paid much attention.

Your eyes were locked in a playful duel. “You know I never back down from a challenge,” you replied boldly, lifting your glass in a mock salute before sipping the lemonade.

He watched every move you made with a smile that made your heart flutter. “And that’s exactly why I love ya,” he said softly, his tone turning more sincere.

It felt like old times, just the two of you in each other's company, the laughter ringing like music. After dinner, the music softened, and the atmosphere turned more romantic.

Terry stood, extending his hand to you. “Shall we?” With a smile, you took his hand as he led you to the dance floor, where the soft light danced around you like fireflies on a warm summer night.

As you swayed together, you felt the rhythm of the music seep into your bones. Terry pulled you closer, his hands resting gently on your lower back, confidently guiding you.

The world around you faded, and it was just him and you, lost in this moment. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings that made your heart swell.

“Look at you, movin’ like you own this floor,” Terry murmured, admiration dripping from his voice. “Ain’t nobody can do it like you can, sweetheart.”

You felt a rush of heat at his words, a giddy thrill igniting your chest. “Terry,” you replied, biting back a smile as you twirled under his arm, relishing how he effortlessly caught you again.

“You know how to make a girl feel special.” You said, resting your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart sync with yours.

Terry chuckled lowly, tilting your chin up to meet your eyes. “Nah, baby girl, it’s all about you. Every move, every glance— I can’t help but be mesmerized,” he said earnestly.

“You’re my whole world.” His gaze held yours captive; it was intimate and raw, each word wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace.

“You know what you are doing!” You laughed lightly as your cheeks warmed under his adoration. “Maybe...but I'm just speaking the truth,” he whispers, kissing your lips.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush that sent shivers down your spine. Time seemed to slow as you melted into him, the world around you fading.

You could taste the sweetness of the lemonade mingled with the warmth of his breath, an intoxicating blend that left you craving more.

As the music swelled, so did your passion. Terry deepened the kiss, his hands roaming from your waist to your ass, pulling you closer as if he wanted to erase any space between you.

“Baby,” Terry breathed against your lips, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You gotta know what kinda hold you got on me.”

You laughed softly, feeling emboldened by his affection. “Oh really? Is that right?” You leaned in closer, brushing your lips against his cheek, an invitation that promised more.

“Yeah...hey, I have something else special,” he replied with a playful smirk. His eyes sparkled as he twirled you again, then pulled you back into him, letting the music guide your movements.

“After this amazing dinner, what could you have else planned, Terry?" You asked as your bodies moved harmoniously, hips swaying together like they were made for this dance.

This moment where nothing else mattered. "You'll have to see, come on," he whispered, took your hand, leading you back to the table to settle the bill.

“You ready for this?” he asked, glancing at you with that glint in his eye that always made your heart skip. “Ready as I’ll ever be! Let’s go!” you answered, excitement bubbling over.

You stepped out into the cool night air, hand in hand. You two were in the car again and eventually made where you two were going. “Terry, where we goin’?” you asked, curiosity bubbling up like champagne, your heart racing as he pulled you along.

“Just trust me, baby,” he said over his shoulder, his smile mischievous and inviting. “I promise it’s somethin’ real special.”

You squeezed his hand, excitement surging through you as he navigated through the small villa. Every step was a tease; every turn held the potential for surprise.

Finally, he stopped in front of an ornate wooden door. He turned to you, letting go of your hand just long enough to pull out a small key from his pocket.

“Now, don't be peekin',” Terry said with a grin as he unlocked it. Your anticipation heightened as the door creaked open, revealing a cozy space bathed in warm golden light.

“Oh wow…” you breathed as you stepped inside, your heart leaping at the sight before you—a smaller villa impeccably decorated with rich crimson roses scattered across the bed and soft candlelight illuminating every corner.

“Surprise!” Terry announced proudly, closing the door behind you both. “I figured we needed a little time on this vacation just for us.” You spun around to face him, unable to contain your joy.

“Terry! This is, this is so beautiful and sweet! You really thought of everything!” You said softly, looking at him happily.

“Aww, you know I had to treat you right, baby. “Ain't nothin' but the best for my queen,” he said, his voice smooth like honey as he stepped closer, closing the space between you two.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, sending shivers down your spine. “Terry, I love you,” you replied with a grin, your heart fluttering like a butterfly in spring.

Terry's eyes danced with mischief as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear. “Oh, baby, I love you too," Terry said, reaching for your waist.

Terry pulled you against him as his lips met yours with an urgent hunger. The kiss ignited a fire within you, deepening as he playfully nibbled on your bottom lip.

“Taste so sweet,” Terry murmured against your mouth before pulling away just enough to gaze intently into your eyes. His hands slid down to cup your ass, lifting you up slightly to the bed.

“I've been wanting you all night” Terry growled, his breath hot against your skin as he sat you on the bed. The soft sheets beckoned you both as he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Look at you” Terry teased, a devilish grin playing on his lips as he traced a finger along your jawline. “Got all dressed up and ready for me; now it's time to rip that shit off.”

With that, he started peeling off your dress, bra, and panties like they were the layers of an onion, revealing every inch of your skin to him." fuck baby,” he said appreciatively, feasting his eyes on your body.

“You're so damn stunning.” His voice dropped low, sending shivers through you. “I could get lost in you.” He added. “Oh, Terry…” you breathed out, feeling the heat between you two intensify.

Terry leaned closer, his hands exploring every curve and dip of your body before trailing down to your thighs. “You smell good, too,” he murmured as he kissed down your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

“I bet you taste even better.” You could feel the electricity crackling as he moved lower, his lips brushing against your stomach. “Gonna make you scream my name tonight,” he promised with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Baby, don’t tease me like that,” you replied breathlessly, biting your lip in anticipation. His presence was intoxicating, and every moment felt like it was building to something spectacular.

“I ain’t teasin’; I’m just gettin' started,” Terry responded, his voice dripping with a sultry confidence that sent heat racing through your veins.

Terry grinned, eyes glinting as he knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your skin. “Now open up for me, mama,” he commanded softly, the authority in his tone making your heart race even faster.

“I wanna taste that sweet, wet pussy of yours the way you know I can.” He said sensual and you shivered at the intensity of his gaze, feeling wholly exposed yet utterly safe in his presence.

“Terry,” you gasped, your body arching instinctively toward him. Terry smirked as he spread your thighs wider, the anticipation hanging thick in the air.

With no warning, he dove in hungrily, lips wrapping around your most sensitive spot and sucking gently while his tongue flicked teasingly over you.

The sensation hit you like a tidal wave, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending. "Oh, shit! Terry," you moaned, gripping the sheets as waves of ecstasy washed over you.

“You taste so damn incredible,” Terry growled against you, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through your core. “Like candy…I could spend all night down here.”

His tongue danced expertly, swirling and teasing as he took his time savoring every inch of you. “Don’t stop… Please don’t stop,” you begged, your voice breathy and filled with desperation.

You could feel it building inside you, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to burst. “I’m close, baby! Just like that!” You cried out, the words tumbling from your lips as his mouth worked its magic.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Terry growled, deepening his rhythm as he added a finger, sliding it inside you just right. “C’mon, let me feel you.” He watched with satisfaction as your body responded to him, arching and writhing beneath his touch.

“Tell me how good it feels, sweetheart,” Terry demanded, his voice thick with desire. You could barely form words; each syllable was swallowed by the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“It feels… so fucking good, Terry!” you gasped out, your hand finding the back of his head, pulling him closer as if that could draw him deeper into you. “Don’t stop… I need to cum.”

“Then do it for me,” Terry urged, his tongue flicking faster against your sensitive bud while pumping his fingers in and out of you with expert precision. “Let me taste all that sweetness.”

And just like that, the coil inside you snapped. You cried out his name like a prayer, waves of ecstasy washing over you as your body quaked in pleasure.

“Oh ahhh fuck, Terry!” Your voice echoed in the room as you caved to the bliss. He lapped at every sweetness that flowed from you, savoring your release as if it were the finest delicacy.

“Damn, baby! You’re so beautiful when you cum,” Terry said, kissing along your inner thighs. You were panted, barely able to catch your breath.

“That was…” You couldn't get the words out; they were still coming down from your high. “I know, baby girl,” he said, winking at you as he got off the bed to take his clothes off.

Terry climbed back on top of the bed, his muscular arms flexing as he positioned himself between your legs. His eyes locked with yours as he pressed the tip of his big, throbbing dick against your wet pussy.

“Tell me what you want, sexy,” he purred in your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want Daddy to make love to his good girl or fuck her senseless?”

You looked into his eyes, the fire igniting a corresponding flame within you. “Fuck me, Daddy,” you growled, the words leaving a wake of desire in their path. “Fuck me 'til I can't walk straight.”

"You got it, baby," he said with a mischievous grin. Terry slammed his dick inside you, filling you to the hilt and setting every nerve ending ablaze.

"Damn, mmmm...you feel so amazing!" His breathing was labored and erratic as he pulled back out slowly before slamming back in even harder.

"Goddamn, yes, Terry! yes, Fuck me like you mean it!" Your words mixed with moans as he relentlessly pounded into you. "Harder, Terry! I want it harder!"

"No problem, babe," he grunted, picking up the pace. Sweat beading on both your brows as your bodies slapped together in carnal rhythm. “I’m gonna give it to you so good,” he said with a moan.

"I know you will, Terry," you moaned. "I know you gonna fuck me senseless."

"You better believe it," he growled, reaching around to roughly squeeze one of your plump breasts, tweaking the hard nipple between his fingers.

"You like that, huh? You like it when Daddy squeezes your tits while he fucks you?"

"Yes! Yes, Daddy, I love it!" you cried out, arching your back to meet him stroke for filthy stroke. "Squeeze them harder, make me cum again!"

Terry obliged, pinching and twisting your nipples as he continued to pound into you mercilessly. Your moans filled the room, bouncing off the walls in a symphony of lust and desire.

"Oh shit, baby, I'm close," Terry grunted, his breath coming in short pants. "I'm gonna…I'm gonna…"

"Cum inside me! Cum deep inside of me and show me how much you love me!" you screamed, your own orgasm building up once more.

"Damn, my nasty girl," Terry groaned before picking up the pace even more. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart. Feels like heaven. fuck I love you.”

As if that were the final push needed, both of you came undone together. Terry roared out his release as he pumped hot thick ropes of cum deep inside you.

"Terry, Terry, Terry" you screamed, chanting his name at the top of your lungs as your body quaked with another mind-shattering orgasm.

Your bodies trembled together as the last waves of pleasure washed over you. Terry collapsed on top of you, his weight a comforting presence as you both struggled to catch your breath.

After a moment, he rolled to the side, pulling you into his arms. "That was…incredible," you panted, nuzzling into his chest. "You're incredible," Terry murmured, kissing your forehead tenderly.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as your heartbeats slowly returned to normal. You lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow.

[sharkie06]

Chat i think that we can all collectively agree that daryl would break down infront of you if he trusts you alot.. right? Right.

A cool fic idea would be the reader going on a run and failing to return on the day she left, but the rest of the group coming back the day of? And daryl gets real pissed, but when you return, he breaks down

Thank you! (Luv ur work) 🫶❤️🎀

A/N: AAAAAAAA HII, yes i definitely agree! i love that idea sm, and thank YOU 🫶🩵:) (also idk if responding to the ask tags you so i’ll tag just in case @livviewritess )

༄ Where is She?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!Y/N

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of violence, lots of gore, lots of cursing, Y/N has she/her pronouns, the lineup, mentions of deaths (Glenn & Abraham), gun use, motorcycle crash

Background info: It’s only been a short while since the line up with Negan, not long after Daryl finally was returned to Alexandria, and the community is still taking the loss pretty badly. He was still recovering from his time at Negan’s compound, so when it was time for the next supply run, Y/N offered to go on his bike and let Daryl stay home and rest.

A/N pt. 2: Most of the beginning of this will be written in Daryl’s POV; I apologize if he’s a bit ooc at times, I haven’t written for him much yet but hope to get better over time :)

Daryl had been restless all day waiting for the group to return from the run they had gone on that morning. It was the first run Y/N had gone on since he returned home from the compound, and being apart after being together every moment possible left them both deeply uneasy. If Daryl hadn’t been bedridden by Y/N’s own orders, he would’ve been pacing the damn gate waiting for a sign, anything to hint at her return. Sitting in their shared bed, Daryl finds his thoughts drifting off, remembering the night of the lineup vividly once again.

Daryl Dixon always thought he wasn’t scared of anything, that nothing could possibly rattle him now that the world had gone to hell. In fact, the only thing he ever worried about anymore was Y/N. So when Abraham’s body hit the ground, Y/N sitting stock still and shaking on her knees beside their friend, Daryl could only hear his blood rushing in his ears, his hands itching with the urge to go pull her into his arms. He wanted to take her away from the gruesome scene, take her back home where it was safe and let her find shelter in his embrace.

The whole group had watched in terror as Negan beat Glenn to death, the scene enough to make bile rise in Y/N’s throat, fighting hard not to puke and draw Negan’s attention to herself. The man could see her struggling and had started to mock her for it, bringing up his bloodied bat to her face, close enough that she could smell the parts of her friends that clung to the wood and wire. Daryl had instinctively reacted, sitting up and leaning back like he was about to try and stand but freezing when one of Negan’s men pressed the barrel of a gun to the back of his skull.

Negan had turned to Daryl then, the archer staring him down as the man had spoken to him. When Negan ended up taking Daryl, it was like a switch flipped in Y/N. She was suddenly kicking and screaming like her life depended on it, roaring with anger and thrashing wildly, trying to free herself of her restraints. Another of Negan’s saviors had simply come forward and knocked her unconscious with the butt of a gun to her temple, and when she awoke Negan, his men, and Daryl were nowhere to be found. Michonne had nearly had to drag her back to the RV, and Y/N hadn’t been allowed to go out and look for Daryl.

It had felt like a millennia had passed by the time Daryl had seen her again, nearly knocking his tired body to the ground just inside the gates of Alexandria as he returned home, Y/N almost just as much of a mess as he was, save for the black eye and other injuries sustained during his time at the compound. Now, Daryl couldn’t help but fear what could happen to her while he was stuck at home, unable to be there to protect her and watch her back. It’s not that he didn’t trust their people, but he felt he did a better job at it than anyone else.

Daryl’s torn from his thoughts as he hears the gates open, and suddenly he’s thinking damn with her orders, ‘m goin’ out there, standing up and limping his way down the stairs of their home, heading out onto the porch and gripping the railing as he heads down the front steps. His steps speed up and his anxiety grows as he doesn’t see her amongst the group that has returned from the run. Making his way through the group until he comes face-to-face with the now closed gate, Daryl can hear the now-familiar deafening sound of his heartbeat, thumping loudly in his ears, in his head as he turns and looks across the group once again.

He limps forward, grabbing Eugene by the collar of that damned jacket he always wore. That’s right; Eugene had gone out on the run with Y/N and the others, having wanted to start learning how to be more useful and Y/N had told the man she would help him learn to shoot on their run. Now, Daryl shakes him so hard by his collar that his own injured leg threatens to give out, Rick and Michonne running up to grab Daryl by the arms, being gentle but still trying to free Eugene from his grasp. “Where is she? I said where is she, asshole?!” Daryl’s visibly upset, tears pricking his eyes as he still reaches for Eugene, grunting and growling and trying to squirm out of Rick’s hold even as his friend is now partially supporting him, Daryl’s knee having buckled from the sudden weight he was putting on it.

Rick does his best to console Daryl, the archer eventually regaining his footing and shoving his friend, his found brother, off of him, stumbling back to Y/N’s and his house. Rick eventually comes into the house as well to see Daryl trying to load his crossbow and readying an overnight pack, grumbling softly to himself. “What are you doin’?” Rick asks his friend softly, sighing quietly when Daryl grunts and loads a bolt onto his crossbow. “What do ya think, genius? ‘m gonna go get my woman. Ain’t gonna let them leave ‘er out there like that. Ain’t no way in hell.” Daryl grumbles, standing up once again and trying to shove past his friend, who in turn steps back and in front of Daryl more directly.

The pair go back and forth for a while, Daryl getting increasingly frustrated and even starting to yell after a while. Eventually Michonne makes her way into the house and the three of them determine that Daryl will stay home and Michonne and Rick will go out and look for Y/N. They leave before the sun sets, with Daryl sitting and waiting on the front steps of his house, cleaning his crossbow while he keeps an eye on the gate and keeps an ear out for the sound of his bike or the sound of Rick and Michonne’s truck.

It’s nearly 6 in the morning the next day when Daryl’s woken up off his porch by the sound of the truck, then the gate opening. He rises quickly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he carefully stands up, limping over to the truck with his crossbow slung across his back. He doesn’t notice that instead of two people in the truck cab there’s three, not until he sees his motorcycle in the truck bed, looking pretty banged up with the arm of a walker stuck in the front wheel. He doesn’t even have it in him to question what the hell happened when he sees Michonne and Rick carefully but quickly help Y/N out of the truck cab, Daryl’s attention immediately caught by the blood dripping down her head and her side, covering almost her whole arm on that side.

She’s rushed to the infirmary, where she gets stitched up and wiped down mostly. Michonne helps Daryl bring her back to their house and she gives Y/N a bath while Daryl does his best to clean up their bedroom. It’s nearly noon when Y/N finally wakes up, in fresh clothing and laying on her uninjured side in her’s and Daryl’s bed. Daryl himself is perched in a chair right up alongside the bed, leaning forward in a way that’s definitely gonna hurt his back when he gets up after sitting that way for so long, one of his hands holding her’s with their fingers interlinked while his other hand has his fingers on her wrist, a constant reminder to himself of her pulse, of the fact that her heart is still beating.

Y/N blinks hazily a few times, coughing quietly as she tries to sit up before laying back down right away, her coughing waking Daryl up quickly, like he had barely been asleep. “Daryl?” Her voice sounds rough, like she had been yelling so much that she was starting to temporarily lose it, though Daryl could tell by the tear streaks that were breaking through the dirt on her face when she was brought in that she had simply been crying a lot. He’s there already but her voice is like an on-switch for him and he’s sitting up quickly, wincing slightly at the pain in his back before her rises to sit beside her on the bed, leaning down and gently cupping the back of her neck.

He tilts her head forward slightly and presses the gentlest of kisses against the bandaged gash along her temple, his thumb caressing the side of her neck softly as he lightly presses his forehead to hers. “‘m here, sugar. Right here. Ain’t never lettin’ ya outta my sight again, I swear.” He knows he’s probably laying it on a little thick, but he’d damn near had a heart attack when she was brought in all bloody and bruised. “The hell happened out there, doll?” Daryl questions her softly, gently releasing her head and sitting up to give her proper space to breathe while also not moving from his spot by her side.

Y/N lets out a pained chuckle, wincing slightly as she clutches her side where she had bruised a rib. “‘s pretty funny actually, I uh.. I told the group to go ahead without me; I was just down the road a few miles with the bike, and wanted to stop at the one convenience store down there. When we went out and passed through there yesterday, I saw this damn gun behind the counter that I really wanted, but told myself I’d pick it up on the way home. Told them to go ahead cause I figured I could also loot it real quick then head home, but when I broke into the back it was full of maybe… 8, 10 walkers? Anyway, I panicked a bit, and when I got back out on the bike I took off too fast. Hit a walker when I was going maybe 30 miles an hour, the damn thing exploded all over me and the bike. His arm got stuck in the wheel and broke the chain, and the damn bike sent me flying I don’t even know how far. Felt like I broke my leg, so I got up long enough to climb up onto the store roof and waited, figured they’d send someone out for me. Then I heard the truck last night and used my flare gun, Michonne and Rick found me—” Y/N pauses in her story as she sees the deep annoyance in Daryl’s expression.

“Yer tellin’ me, you damn near died because you wanted to loot a place by yerself?!” His voice lilts off into almost a yell at the end of his question, his face growing a bit flushed with his frustration. He almost starts going on a tangent about “How could you be so reckless—” until he sees how her eyes grow misty, her bottom lip wobbling slightly in that tell-tale sign that he had gotten a bit too rough with her in the state that she was in. Daryl pauses and takes a deep, shaky breath, reaching in to gently sit her up and pull her forward into him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and cradling her softly, like he was scared she would break.

“Look, ‘m sorry, doll. Just… ya jus’ had me so worried, thought I lost ya—” Daryl starts, and though Y/N can’t see his face on the account of her own being shoved into his neck, she can hear how his breath hitches at the end, can feel the tense shaking in his torso as he lets out another shaky breath. Y/N leans back carefully, bringing her hands up to cup his cheeks softly. He’s crying, something she hadn’t seen since long before this all started, and just like she had done back then, Y/N leans in and kisses away his tears, his hands wrapping gently around her wrists where she cups his face but he doesn’t pull her away, just holding her there softly as she comforts him. His eyes close as she leans in and he leans into her when she pulls him in.

Soft sobs wrack his body as he cries against her, finding comfort in her warmth and she lets him hide in her shoulder and then her chest, her fingers trailing loosely through the hair at the back of his head and her heartbeat drumming quietly against his ear. Slowly, it begins to rain outside and she continues to just hold him, knowing that at times like this something as simple as being there and holding him is enough for Daryl.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° might not be the golden one

( yukimiya kenyu x reader )

♡ a/n — for my new series :)

♡ content — yukimiya kenyu x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood best friends, no established relationship but reader and yukimiya are close, set in (maybe) future :) ( i have it where he's playing pro soccer, but still with Bastard München) , mention of yukimiya's condition, pushy! reader, mutual apologizes, idk if the team canonically knows abt yuki's condition so there's this

♡ synopsis — you'd sat beside yukimiya kenyu when he first got his diagnosis, too strong to cry in front of his mom, but not in front of you. maybe you'd never understand how it felt for him.

Yukimiya Kenyu had always been good at smiling. The kind of smile that could charm anyone, make people forget their worries for just a moment. You’d seen it countless times, growing up by his side—the way he’d laugh and joke with you, even when life wasn’t kind to him.

But you’d also seen through it.

You saw it in the way his fingers trembled when he thought no one was looking. The way his jaw tightened when the world’s weight felt too heavy.

You were waiting for him just outside the locker rooms when the Bastard München team filtered out. They were all smiles after a hard-earned victory, and Yukimiya was no exception, his charm cranked up to the usual setting for his teammates and fans. But you saw it—the stiffness in his shoulders, the faint tremor in his hand as he waved to the crowd.

He was smiling, as always. But this smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Yuki,” you called softly when he spotted you.

His smile brightened, but it felt rehearsed, practiced. “Hey. You didn’t have to wait so long.”

You ignored the pleasantries, giving him a once-over before saying, “How are you?”

He paused, then chuckled. “I’m good. Another win in the books, right?”

“Are you okay?” you asked, stepping closer.

“What? Why wouldn't I be-”

“You know you can't pretend everything’s fine when it’s not,” you cut in, crossing your arms. “I know you’re struggling, Yuki. You don’t have to keep this bottled up, especially not with me. And your teammates—”

“They don’t need to know,” he interrupted, his tone sharper than you’d expected.

“Why not? They care about you.”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice strained.

“It could be if you’d just let them in,” you argued. “You’re making this harder on yourself.”

His jaw clenched, and when he turned to you, there was a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “You wouldn’t get it.”

The words stung, even though you knew he didn’t mean them. You'd been there for everything. You'd sat beside him when he first got his diagnosis, too strong to cry in front of his mom, but not in front of you.

But before you could respond, he shook his head and said, “This doesn’t involve you, alright? It’s my problem.”

Your lips parted to say something, but you bit back the words. Instead, you exhaled slowly and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Maybe you'd never understand how it felt for him.

The drive back to his place was silent, the tension between you palpable. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional shuffle of Yukimiya shifting in his seat. You gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, your mind racing.

The last time you’d fought like this, you were fifteen. Back then, it had been about something trivial—Yukimiya refusing to help you study for a math test because he was too focused on soccer. You’d stormed off, he’d sulked, and it had all blown over with an apology and a shared snack.

But this was different. This was heavier.

When you pulled into the driveway, Yukimiya lingered in the car for a moment before stepping out. Neither of you said a word as you entered his apartment. He went straight to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, while you hovered near the couch, unsure of how to break the silence.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Yuki,” you began, your voice softer now. He turned, glass in hand, and you continued, “You’re right. I don’t get it. I can’t possibly understand what it’s like for you. And I’m sorry if I pushed too hard.”

His expression softened instantly, the frustration from earlier replaced by something gentler—regret, maybe. He set the glass down on the counter and walked over to you.

“No,” he said quietly. “You were right. Hiding it isn’t helping anyone. Least of all me.”

The admission surprised you, and a small laugh escaped before you could stop it. “Well, this is different,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

“What is?” he asked, his own lips quirking upward.

“Fighting with you,” you said, recalling the argument from years ago. “Last time, it was over math homework. Now it’s… this.”

Yukimiya laughed, a quiet, warm sound that eased the tension lingering between you. “Yeah, a bit of an upgrade, huh?”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “It’s not an upgrade. It’s just… life.”

He nodded, his smile fading into something more serious. “Thanks. For not giving up on me. Even when I’m an idiot.”

“Always,” you said softly, echoing the promise you’d made to him so many times before.

And for the first time that night, his smile—the real one—lit up his face.

Weeks later, you watched from the side as Yukimiya sat with his teammates in a press conference. His expression was calm, but you noticed the way his hands gripped the edge of the table, as if grounding himself.

When one of the reporters asked him about his condition, something he publicly announced a week after the two of you had that conversation, you held your breath. Yukimiya glanced your way, just for a moment, and you gave him the smallest nod of encouragement.

“I wasn’t sure if I should talk about this,” he began, his voice steady despite the nervousness you knew he felt. “But I realized that hiding it wasn’t helping anyone—not me, not my team, and not the people out there who might be struggling with this, too. I want to show everyone that, no matter what, you can achieve your dream.”

He took a deep breath, then shared his story with a grace and honesty that left you in awe. The boy you grew up with, the one who always tried to smile through the pain, was finally allowing himself to be vulnerable.

And as the reporters clapped, as his teammates clapped, you felt your heart swell with pride.

marry me yuki im begging

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[moon-buggg]

1 for the micro story!

don't go

You were... probably not doing the best of jobs hiding how sore your ankle was. But, you had refused to be carried, so for the sake of your ego you hobbled on, a not insignificant portion of your weight leaning on Moon as you two slowly but surely make your way through the winding back halls of the haunted house.

Moon is utterly silent, though you can feel the heavy weight of his unyielding stare as he no doubt searches for any trace of pain on your face. You're doing your best not to let him see any, but... it isn't exactly easy. The trek to the break room for ice is made twice as long by the slow pace Moon sets. He refuses to go any faster, not even acknowledging you when you try and hurry him up.

It's probably for the best. As much as you don't want to admit it, the sprain feels pretty bad.

You just hope Moon isn't feeling too guilty.

It wasn't his fault. But good luck trying to convince him that.

You hadn't been in your usual spot for his scene, the one where he grabs you and drags you out of the room. You couldn't have been. Not with how he knocked into you instead of grabbing you. Neither of the two animatronics had ever been off point like this before. You do not blame him.

It was an accident. One you've already forgiven, as you'd assured him many times over by now.

When you finally make it to the break room, you wave Moon away from helping you sit down and instead ask him to grab some ice from the fridge. He doesn't have to move much, the room is small, barely enough go contain his massive form. His long limbs make quick work of grabbing the ice and a ziploc to put it in with stilted, understated movements. Nothing at all like the Moon you know.

He hands you the bag, still as silent as he has been since he whispered a barely audible apology, and turns to leave.

"Hey, wait!" You say, dropping the ice in the process of reaching out for him. Moon jolts, his head nearly hitting the ceiling as he turns around to stare at you. You continue, "don't- don't go."

He doesn't move. The quiet hum of the fridge the only sound in the room. Your ankle aches.

You refuse to whither under his blank, smiling stare. After far too long, he finally responds. "...why?" He sounds genuinely confused, like he cannot possibly fathom you actually wanting him in the room.

"Because you're-" you hesitate for just a moment, easily written off as a stutter, "because you're my friend, Moon. Why would I want you to leave?" For as much as 'friend' feels woefully inaccurate, it's what you say.

He looks away from you at that, his faceplate shifting down towards the ground as he considers your words. Just when you're about to say something, he sags down into a low crouch. Making himself smaller in a room not built for his height.

"I hurt you," he says, like that was all the convincing you would need to realize your mistake and change your mind. You ignore the dull throbbing ache. The ice starts to melt on the break room floor.

"Moon, did you mean to hurt me?" You ask bluntly and get a nearly franktic shake of the head in return. "Then it was an accident. I'm not mad, my ankle will heal. It's ok."

He doesn't seem to believe you, remaining hunched over on the opposite side of the room from you. You sigh, glancing down at the ice you dropped. "Would you mind picking that up for me?" You ask, sounding more tired than you mean to.

It takes a minute, but slowly, hesitantly, Moon creeps towards you. You watch with a small smile that grows when he gingerly hands you the bag. You let your hand linger on his claws as you take it, offering soft 'thank you' as you do. His long arm snakes back away from you, but he seems a little less tense as you finally get the ice on your ankle.

[yoredoesmore]

Hello! I saw you opening request again, can I have a request for soshiro and fem reader where they spend time each other for holiday?

Maybe they're having a cafe date in this cold season or maybe ice skating or spend time alone together?

Memories of Snow | Hoshina Soshiro

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x Fem!Reader

genre: /romance/fluff overload

summary: You take your boyfriend out on a cute date to help him relax during the holidays.

wc: 1,7k

a/n: I'm falling to my knees, rubbing my hands together and apologizing for taking this long for your request. please accept my apology anon please please please 😣

Enjoy :>

It was that time of the year again. Tokyo sat covered in a crystal white blanket and the freezing temperatures urged everyone to take out their coats and fuzzy winter scarfs. Christmas lights illuminated the streets and the smell of baked goods and hot chocolate lingered in the air.

It was a beautiful time to be, and your favorite.

Your mitten covered hands tried their best to work the phone in your hands. The cold air threatened to dry out your skin the second it came in contact with it, which is why you refused to take them out of the warm fabric. You knew better now.

It was already five past seven and Soshiro had yet to respond to all your messages.

“Im ag the Christmas makest where eate hiu”

Soshiro has long adjusted to your typos, therefore you did not bother to correct your mistakes (not that it was possible with these things on anyway).

Worried that something might have happened to the man, you tried to dial his number but upon the first sound ringing up, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist.

“Someone's impatient.” Soshiro placed a gentle hand on your cheeks before leaning in for a kiss. His lips moved gently over yours, capturing your heart in a swift motion.

“Yes, because you're usually on time.” You rolled your eyes in a playful manner as you pulled away from him and smiled, immediately forgiving his actions.

“So, what does my Snow Angel have planned for us?” His hands wrapped around your fuzzy mittens. One thing you have noticed was that Soshiro loved matching your nickname to whatever season or event was currently taking place. It was a cute habit of his, one that you have gotten deeply attached to.

The both of you began to walk down the christmas market, taking in the beautiful scenery around you and the sweet smell of roasted almonds. You have been looking forward to this day ever since he got the green light to take this day off. Attending the christmas market was like a tradition, one the both of you have grown quite fond of.

“Sooo, it occurred to me that we never went ice skating together and lucky us, the market renovated their ice skating rink! I got us two tickets for that and afterwards we can grab something to eat and look around a bit more.”

While you were talking, Soshiro couldn't help but lose himself in your presence. your eyes shone with such anticipation and joy, it caused his heart to melt the cold around him away.

He was always so on edge at work, as the vice president it was his duty to take care of everything around him and protect his division after all. It was a constant pressure that rested on his shoulders. But with you around him, that weight was lifted and he was able to enjoy the moment.

When it came to dates specifically, it was usually you who took care of everything. The reservations, the schedule, the dress code– you loved taking care of it all. Of course it was always nice to see Soshiro handle those things when he found the time but most of the time, all he had to do was show up and take care of the financial aspects.

Upon arriving at the skating rink, you noticed how many people were already enjoying the sports. Couples, families and friends danced around on the ice, having an enjoyable time. You have been looking forward to this for ages now and you couldn't wait to try this out with your boyfriend. But as you turned around to look at his face, he had a..less excited expression on.

“What's wrong, Soshiro?” you asked, pulling your tickets out of your bag.

“Don't tell me that you have never done this before.” Your words were meant to be taken as a joke, you didn't even look at him as you spoke that sentence but when Soshiro didn't laugh or make any other signs that he hadn't taken your words to heart, you paused in your actions.

“No way..”

“It's not that big of a deal, I mean how hard can this be.” The man crossed his arms over his chest, the usual sassy expression hanging on his lips. He was avoiding eye contact as well, what a cutie.

You wanted to tease Soshiro for this. Poke at his ego a little and drop a few jokes but you decided against your worse judgment. Your boyfriend was amazing at many things, so many that it was painful to compare your achievements. Thus, having him admit that he was unable to do such simple thing as holding himself up on the ice did feel like a win for you.

This was going to be interesting.

*

He was exceptional.

Soshiro moved on the ice as if he was born to do so. Your boyfriend made it seem effortless, keeping his posture while elegantly moving through the crowd. It was a sight to behold, watching the man who almost stumbled over himself upon entering the icy rink now holding himself up like it was nothing.

Meanwhile you stood in the corner, admiring his skills.

You had told him that you needed a break but in reality you simply wished to admire the man.

It should not have been that much of a surprise to you, after all you were well aware of his abilities as noted before. The master of blades and swift movements was bound to find his calling on the ice. And not to mention– he looked unbelievably handsome.

Once the lap was finished, Soshiro returned to your side. His chest heaved up and down in order to regain his stamina and his rapid breaths visualized in the cold evening wind as misty clouds.

“This is funnier than expected.” Soshiro smiled, placing his hands on his hips.

“You sure are enjoying yourself, Soshiro.”

“Sure am. My girlfriend is excellent at picking fun activities after all.”

A knock of wind suddenly hit your face as you found yourself being dragged back into the center of the ring. “Let's try it together!”

Soshiro didn't even wait for your answer as he urged your stiff body closer to his. But you did not complain nor refuse, as you were all too used to Soshiro's sudden antics and therefore simply followed behind him.

You haven't laughed like this since breakfast this morning. Soshiro held your hands while moving along to the music. Your feet followed him, matching his pace and rhythm. The people around you almost became nonexistent in your eyes– it was simply the two of you who existed in the moment.

He held your hands as you tried a trick and pulled you back up after failing miserably. But you just laughed it off, not paying the failure any attention.

But before you knew it an hour passed and it was time to clear the ice. Soshiro and you went for one last round before the magical time was over.

“What a bummer. I could have gone for another hour.”

Hearing him say this earned a smile out of you. The smile on your face sat brightly as you wrapped your hand around his and pulled him along.

“The day's not over, so let's find something else to do!” Soshiro welcomed your enthusiasm by giving your hands a soft squeeze.

You ended up walking around the market for another hour, relishing in the festive spirit, enjoying the moment and stopping by almost every food stand. And just when you believed that the night could not go any better it started snowing.

Tiny crystals of ice landed on your skin and melted on impact. This was no weather to return home to, Soshiro said and guided you towards the nearby river.

Less people now walked the street but those who were outside enjoyed the view of the water along with the snow.

“Remember last year, when we went to the christmas market and it started snowing just like this? A little earlier than now but it was so beautiful.”

“And so cold as well. Yer fingers almost froze off.” The both of you laughed at the memory, the image of you desperately trying to heat up your fingers by rubbing them against each other so clear in your mind.

You were about to continue the story, when all of a sudden you found your arms being lifted up to your chest. One by one, Soshiro removed your mittens, until your fingers stood exposed in the cold winter air.

“Instead of buying yourself gloves Y/n, ya asked me to hold yer hand instead, but im pretty sure that mine were just as cold as yours."

Soshiro chuckled. "And I wasn't allowed to wear my gloves anymore either, ya said somethin bout 'let's suffer together'. Froze my one hand off that day but the other one did feel kinda warm."

And just like that, Soshiro took your hand in his and smiled. It wasn't a grin or one of his sheepish smiles but one that instantly warmed your hands and heart.

“So..would it be selfish of me to ask you to do the same for me now?”

Your words temporarily got stuck in your throat as you found yourself unable to answer him. Soshiro was so smooth with his words, catching you off guard in the moments you least expected it. But most importantly, he was sweet and caring and meant everything he said.

“You're already holding them, silly.” You somehow managed to reply, slightly flustered by his tender smile.

“And I already feel so much better.” He replied, pocketing our mittens with a sheepish smile.

The snow continued to fall over the world as the two of you walked down the river, hand in hand, while enjoying the beautiful scenery and old memories.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 1126

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashing, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms, medical treatment

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnabobingo Slutty Omega

A/N I: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N II: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

**Apologies for taking so long getting this part out-had an accident at work and will have limited used of right hand for a bit.

Series Masterlist

Part XI

Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original posture collars were redesigned for auto-erotic asphyxiation. It fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."

The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see the deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.

****

The doctor gently scrubbed her neck with a fine-pore sponge and commented, "You felt it, didn't you? " The question took Dean off guard and touched his neck, "How'd you?"

"I noticed the claim mark while I was removing the collar. Finding an O you're biologically compatible with isn't easy these days, and even more so for the owner to claim them if they are." Dean doesn't respond. "'Course, it's none of my business. I'm seeing a lot of soft tissue abrasion but no skin necropsy. That's good. Bruise cream will speed up healing." The doctor shined a light into her mouth. "Has she attempted to speak?" Dean admitted he had not heard anything outside coughing.

"I am concerned about this inflammation in her throat." They pick up a swab. "I'm going to have some labs run. Make sure it isn't from an STI since O clinics are only obligated to run standard STD testing for appearances." Slipping the swap into a sterile tube notices the Alpha's confusion.

"Several years into Hibbing, there was unrest brewing about selling people, so the government mandated all O's must have their hymens intact before the first purchase and made propaganda reels still shown in schools to program the populous in believing they're not mistreated." The doctor moves to a cupboard, pulling out a sterile pack.

"Truth is, these O's are versed in various sexual acts by the time they're teens. Going by the physical, I'd say she's been repeatedly throat fucked with that collar on; undoubtedly, it's also done some damage to her vocal cords. But if you're willing, you can do things to help." They gauge Dean before continuing.

"Give her nothing too hot or cold, only room temperature. Tea with honey, soft foods only need to swallow, nothing chewy, and protein supplement specifically for O's. If lucky, she'll recover enough to be understandable but be prepared for the worst, that she'll never speak again." They began preparing a site near the original implant. "I'd normally like to wait on the suppressant; it'll slow down healing. But with her current physical condition, going into heat would be detrimental."

They continued talking, oblivious Dean's vibrating with anger in muscle memory: unable to stop the strangers hovering over his Omega because being tased several times had temporarily left his legs unusable; furiousgrowls bounced around the room when he smelled her blood. Needing a distraction before his instincts swallow him, Dean turns his attention elsewhere and eyes the collar.

Running his fingers over it, he feels the visual bumps and discovers slim, horizontal boning embedded in the leather and hears the doctor comment, "They're constriction rings, function similar to cock rings without the pleasurable effects."

Dean's habitual guilty-as-hell caught in his throat. He failed again to see what was right before him. He shouldn't have kept blindly believing his dad's continued quoting of that damn pamphlet, that him treating it like any other person confused its lower intelligence.

Sam's snide comment that only dick Alphas believed in that antiquated bullshit led to the latest round of Dean physically getting between them before punches got thrown. His wonders what level of dick his brother now considers him is interrupted by the phone's ringtone.

"Hey Bobby, no, still at the clinic. What? Sam's registering shouldn't be an issue; his paperwork is all there." Dean listened to the Betas ranting. "Alright, I'll head over there and deal with it." Then came a list of errands the Beta needed him to run made Dean pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. Just what he needed; more things slapped on his overflowing plate when he felt the O coming around, ending the call to focus on her. "Hi, sweetheart. Have a good nap?"

She turned towards his voice, spotting the IV pole, and glanced down at the tubing protruding from her wrist. She peered at him and blinked three times, the signal for question. "You have something going on in your throat and need some antibiotics and fluids. Listen, I gotta run out for a while and deal with something at Sam's school. Will you be okay?"

That's when it smacked Dean; something had shifted between them. If he allows himself to be honest with himself, it scares him. Refocusing on the O, he's unnerved by her concerned expression, too similar to Sam's, and feels relief when she blinks once for yes since he's unsure how to react to her becoming more in tune with his internal feelings.

Grabbing the three-quarter-drank bottle of rotgut, Bobby doesn't bother with the glass; he feels it burn his throat as he polishes it off. Banging the bottle down, he stares at the wording on the paperwork and understands why John was so cagey about his questioning about Frank. The sonuvabitch knowingly mated his children; that practice hasn't been done since before the Omega plague. And knowing the temperament of the man, it wasn't to get Dean out of dire straits because he is John’s son, but for the older Alphas' continued vendetta.

The Beta's mind whirled with questions, but one kept popping to the forefront- who or what made her appear out of nowhere, and why now?

The longer he broods, the more he's convinced it has links to Mary Winchester. Picking up the cordless phone, he dials a familiar number. "Hey Bobby," a female voice warmly says. "Guess you're not calling to find out who to bet on in Sunday's playoffs."

"We both know the Vikings are going to the Superbowl," there's an amused laugh on the line, "Keep telling yourself that. So what can I help you with?"

"I'm not sure where to start with this one," Bobby admits and hears cards shuffling through the receiver. "It'd be best to go back to the beginning. And keep the drinks down to a minimum." He glances at the new bottle he had sat on the desk just before calling, "How'd you...?"

"I'm the best damn psychic in the state," Pamela reminds him, "So start talking, or I will reverse the charges for this call." Bobby makes a vexed noise at his fellow Betas' cheekiness.

"In 1986, I met a man with two small boys looking for answers."

Part XII

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67 @elmolovesw33d

[waitsobs]

THE LONG GAME ⋆˚࿔ chapter nine!

When popular actress y/n l/n's private account gets exposed, it is revealed that she has a crush on one of the girls from the girl group katseye. y//n tries to de-escalate the situation, but makes it worse, and loses her chance with the girl. The only way she think of winning the girl over is by playing the long game. 

WORK FOR IT

When yn arrived on the set, the scene set up was a typical bedroom. Megan was already standing on the side, ready to start. yn's heart began hammering as she approached her, but fortunately, the director was approaching them to explain the scene, saving her from having to make an embarrassing introduction.

"So, in this scene, you two will be on the bed. Megan, you're going to lay down while yn is on top of you applying your makeup." The director explains.

Megan's eyes widened; she wanted to protest, but she knew she had to be professional, so she remained silent and nodded.

yn, on the other hand, was freaking out since the two were not on good terms, if they were on any terms at all.

"You guys got it?" The director inquired, which jolted yn out of her trance and caused her to nod in agreement. "okay great, well let's get started you two can go take your positions."

The director walked away, and to yn's surprise, Megan was already laying down on the bed.

Gradually, she approached the bed and stood beside it, gazing down at Megan. 

"Are you just going to stand there or what?" Megan asked, slightly annoyed, her brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry I didn't know whether to ask or just you know…" yn responded, her gaze shifting away from Megan.

"Just get on top of me so we can hurry and get the scene done."

yn took a deep breath before finally climbing on top of Megan. The two remained motionless in their postures, not speaking until yn felt compelled to apologize.

"I'm so sorry about the private account situation. I asked Lara for your number to apologize, but you then blocked me. yn explained, scratching her brow.

Megan turned her head to look at yn, who continued speaking. "I didn't mean for it to sound like I didn't know who you were. I just didn't know how to word it. I never meant for it to get blown out of proportion, and I apologize.

Megan quickly realized that if she hadn't blocked her, she would have received an apology sooner, and she felt bad about it now. She took a deep breath and responded. "I'm sorry too I probably shouldn't have blocked you."

"No," yn interjected. "I understand why you did but I kind of wish you didn't block me when I messaged you." yn allowed a faint smile slip over her lips.

"Yeahhh" Megan went on, "I was still upset about the situation, but I'm kind of over it now."

"So does that mean you'll unblock me now?" yn's small smile became larger.

"Hmm," Megan hummed, leaning up and placing her face a few inches away from yn's. "I think I'll make you work for it." Megan curled her lips into a smile.

"Oh I'll work for it." Yn answered, softly nudging Megans' chest, causing her to fall back into the bed.

masterlist ⭑.ᐟ next

Taglist: @saysirhc @urmom2314 @artrizzler19 @yeetaberry127 @yjiminswallet @lara4eclipze @meiphobic @meizinisnumberone @meganskiendielsbtc @soobnotfound @linnnsworld @1luvkarina @raviolisupremacy  @peranoo @vrtualstar @ssamlovr | TAGLIST OPEN

[artstennisracket]

I need need need housewife!Art post-US open since he’s retired and now he can take care of Patrick domestically

Inspo: Cater 2 U by Destiny’s Child

wow wow wow I loveeeeee this song, and I think you hit the nail on the head because Art would definitely do this. i did take some liberties and only focused on the cooking part but hope you like it! (also this is ridiculously long my apologies)

cw: nsfw (18+), light feminization, pregnancy/breeding kink? (idek man), gender roles

After winning his last shot at the U.S. Open, Art felt like he could finally breathe. He could wake up when he wanted, eat what he wanted, do what he wanted, do who he wanted.

It didn’t take long for Art to rekindle with Patrick after the challenger. It was actually Tashi’s idea. She thought it could be beneficial for their relationship to introduce Patrick into whatever they had going on. At first, Art didn’t know what to think or how to feel but once Tashi reassured him that she felt it was best and they would figure out what to tell Lily when the time came, Art agreed.

And she was so right. Having Patrick around wasnt only helpful but it just felt right. Slowly but surely Art had opened up to the idea of Patrick being their boyfriend. Not to mention Patrick was actually amazing with Lily, who knew he’d be so great with kids?

Now that Art was retired, he spent most of his days at home. He still went to the gym most days to maintain his physique but his workouts were less intense. He no longer woke up at 4:30 am but got to sleep in until 8 am. This way he could get in a good workout before Lily woke up around 9:30 am. Now that Art was usually home, they cut their nanny’s hours to only when needed, like if they went out for date night. They also cut their private chef’s hours. Art would usually make breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner for everyone if he felt up to it. Except Patrick, their private chef and nutritionist would work together to formulate Patrick’s meal plan since he was still training.

Art loved spending more time with Lily. He felt like he was actually getting the chance to be a dad first as opposed to being a tennis player first.

Tashi was going away for a week to attend paris fashion week so it would just be Art and Lily home most of the time (like usual) since Patrick was still on his training schedule.

For this week Art really wanted to take the time to take care of Patrick since Patrick’s been working so hard prepping for the US Open, so he had dropped Lily off at his mom’s house for the week.

That morning when Patrick had woken up at 5:00 am to get ready for the day, their bed was empty, where’s Art? It didn’t take long for Patrick to get dressed and head downstairs. He walks into the kitchen to find Art pouring a smoothie into a glass.

“good morning,” Art smiles, he doesn’t bother getting a straw because he already knows Patrick is going to gulp this down in two minutes.

“and to what do I owe this pleasure? you usually sleep in.” Patrick asks walking around the kitchen island and taking a sip of his smoothie.

Art shrugs, “i gave the private chef the week off so I’m gonna do all ur meal prep this week.”

Patrick raises his eyebrows, smirking, “oh really? you cooking for me? i might have to get on one knee and propose to you right now.”

Art scoffs laughing, “yeah yeah yeah, you better hurry up because you were supposed to be at training,” Art checks his phone for the time, “two minutes ago.”

Patrick gulps down the rest of his smoothie and gives Art a peck in the cheek saying, “thank you babe,” as he jogs outside towards their home tennis court.

…

Around lunch time, Art had just finishing plating both his and Patrick’s food when Patrick walks in from outside.

“so what’s for lunch?” Patrick asks taking a seat on one of the barstools next to the kitchen island. He is very sweaty, so he uses his towel to dry off his face.

“same as always, chicken, rice, vegetables.” Art responds placing Patrick’s plate in front of him. Art places his own plate next to Patrick’s and takes a seat.

“you know you making me food actually really turns me on.” Patrick says, muffled since he’s already started stuffing his mouth with food.

Art laughs, taking a bite of his food. “uh huh, i feel like everything makes you horny.”

“no im serious, it just feels so domestic, like your my wife.” Patrick smirks, finishing up the last of his food.

“ha ha, very funny. did you every stop to think that maybe i just— like taking care of you. your working really hard with all your training for the open and i’m just really proud of you” Art says still looking down at his plate.

“that is really fucking sweet, fuck sweetheart. can I make a request for dinner?” Patrick says leaning towards Art and invading his personal space.

“Patrick you know I have to stick to the meal plan, Tashi would actually kill me.” Art retorts, turning to face Patrick.

He whispers in Art’s ear, “when you make dinner I want you to only be wearing an apron.”

Art starts blushing almost immediately and nods softly showing he understands.

“good,” Patrick smirks, “now I have to practice with that image in my head, it’s gonna be hard to focus.”

…

When Patrick finished training he went straight upstairs to shower and change into something more comfy while Art worked on dinner.

By the time he came back downstairs he saw Art. In the kitchen. Only wearing an apron. Fuck. Since the back of the apron is open, Art’s back and ass is exposed.

“i know i asked for this but goddamn your ass looks fucking amazing.” Patrick groans walking over to stand behind Art. He kneads and gropes, squeezing the meat of Art’s ass.

“Patrick,” Art squeals in surprise, he’s still facing the stove occasionally stirring the broccoli he’s sautéing.

Patrick doesn’t skip a beat as he starts kissing the side of Art’s neck. “i think i’m gonna need to have dessert before dinner.”

“but Patrick i need to finish—” Art gets cut off when a moan escapes his own lips. Patrick had started sucking a hickey onto his neck.

“it can wait, fuck I need you.” Patrick gets down on his knees, spreading Art’s cheeks apart before he starts licking into Art’s hole.

Art drops his spoon on the floor in surprise. He grips the edge of the countertop, “oh fuck patrick fuck that feel so good.”

Patrick pulls back for just a second, inserting one finger into Art. “yeah, you like that?”

Art starts fucking himself back on Patrick’s fingering, nodding. Patrick add another finger until he works up to three fingers.

“who knew my wife was such a fucking slut? fucking yourself back on my fingers. havent even fucked you properly yet.”

Art starts whining, “please fuck me, fuck, i need it, i need you, i need— ah, fuck.” Patrick had pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his cock in one swift motion. He grabs Art’s hips and starts fucking into him rapidly.

“fuck you’re so fucking tight.” Patrick moans

“yes fuck keep fucking my hole please, faster please.” Art whines trying to keep himself upright.

“awe my wife really is a greedy fucking cockslut hm.” Patrick grunts out. “touch yourself.”

Art moves his hand under the front of his apron and starts jerking off. He’s already close.

Patrick leans “do you want me to cum inside you? get you fucking pregnant? since you wanna be a housewife?”

And that went straight to Art’s dick. “fuck yes please please please cum inside me, i want you to get me pregnant.”

Patrick smirks, he wasn’t sure how Art was going to respond to what he said but he was pleasantly surprised, “are you gonna cum for me? make a mess on your apron?”

Art nods moaning, “yes fuck, i’m gonna cu— ah fuck.” Art spills all on the inside of his apron, some of it even getting on his chest and tummy.

Patrick isn’t too far behind and he spills deep inside Art. He does his last couple thrusts making sure to bury his cum deep inside of Art, like he wanted to get him pregnant.

And Art had burned everything he made for dinner but Patrick helped him remake everything.

When Tashi comes back a week later and sees the burnt staining on a few of the pots and pans she questions their private chef about it but he has no idea where they came from.

[jaggedjot]

if they dropped ep 1&2 on may 12, would you be happy or annoyed?

Personally, I would find this not only disappointing but would see this as something that would likely undermine the show. As I have mentioned previously, I think that the story's many layers means that it is often best appreciated in as drawn out a sitting as possible. Watching the show is also an extremely emotionally intense experience, which does not lend itself to marathoning. Most importantly to me though, I think Interview with the Vampire is a series that is almost uniquely suited to an episodic format.

Each episode of season one was structured around a single interview session, with a significant break occurring before the next one took place. These periods of almost entirely unaccounted for time allowed the characters to rest, consider what was discussed, assess their own performance, and prepare for upcoming revelations and questions. The subsequent adjustments are more overtly done by Louis, but Daniel also has differs in his approach and attitude in each session. Structuring the format of the show then to parallel the events taking place simulates that experience for the audience. This is particularly true for people who are more than casual viewers, with the greater time lapse between episodes compared to the interview sessions (aka, a week compared to several hours) being balanced by fans' ability to speculate with others in the meantime, rewatch scenes, research references, etc. While I expect the format to develop in season two (for example, we know that there are going to be scenes of Armand and Louis between interview sessions), I don't believe it will be abandoned entirely.

[foolsocracy]

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Do you think if the trolls all came back, like everything in the main comic did happen and they were alive again. Do you think Feferi would actually forgive Eridan? Or want to even be his friend after everything? I don't personally like the erisol and fefertasprite interaction…felt rushed…..so I just wanted to know your opinion if things were different! :)

Yeah, I think they would be! Feferi is one of the trolls who takes dying the least badly (relentless optimism) and Eridan does genuinely feel bad, which means a lot when it's Eridan. I think she really is genuine when she says she wants them to be friends and also that she's really not the type of person to hold a grudge, and like... death is SUPER cheap in Homestuck, it's really not the horrific, irredeemable, irreperable damage that it is IRL - and if you're talking about (Feferi) and (Eridan), then they're both dead (and irrelevent) now, so the score is kind of even.

In general, the fandom - I mean, people in general, really - tend to have difficulty divorcing themselves from other people. We tend to assume that the people and characters they like will hold similar opinions to themselves. This is how people who like Karkat and don't like Eridan can mentally gloss over or even block out their clear, close friendship, or how people who dislike Cronus can end up overlooking that Meenah actually takes his opinion seriously and unironically defends his wizard thing. Feferi really isn't mad at Eridan or upset about dying the way we probably would be, because she's friends with the horrorterrors, relentlessly cheerful, comfortable with death in general, and death is also just not really that big of a deal in this setting. "I'm really sorry about that, that was shitty of me" is honestly probably all the apology she needs, especially if they came back to life anyway.