#at this point im just throwing everything out here so thanks for looking at it ig lol

[seventh-district]

Are you sad? Are you miserable? Is your life falling apart? Is your body falling apart? Does your head feel like it’s full of cotton, or perhaps TV static? Does it feel like the world is crumbling around you? Is it getting harder to force yourself through the daily motions? Is happiness getting increasingly harder to find?

Why not consider making a large, hyperfixation-fueled impulse purchase?

They won’t tell you this, but all of the happiness and satisfaction you’re searching for, along with each of those little chemicals that make your brain feel good, are all hidden within your very next large, hyperfixation-fueled impulse purchase!

So why don’t you go on ahead and grab that credit card, throw caution to the wind, and chase that good feeling? You certainly won’t regret it. No one has ever regretted making a large, hyperfixation-fueled impulse purchase! Never!

[wcnderlnds]

battlefield | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: running into your ex boyfriend during the squid games was the last thing you expected ・❥・word count: 719 ・❥・warnings: uh... usual squid game stuff. ・❥・ authors note: this is a short one just to test the waters but im obsessed with this man after watching squid game 2 <333

There he was. The last person you’d ever expected to see in this place. Player 230. Choi Su-Bong or, as the world knew him as, Thanos. The bright purple hair had been easy to spot. The last few months had been spent avoiding him so why did fate want to throw you together in this place? Wherever the hell this place was. You still weren’t even sure but as you walked up the stairs to the first game, you didn’t really care. All you wanted to do was lay low and make sure that Thanos didn’t see you. A conversation with your ex boyfriend was the last thing you wanted.

Things had ended badly between the two of you when he’d lost all his money thanks to the crypto scam. It had changed him, turned him into someone you didn’t recognise anymore so when the arguments started and his behaviour became erratic, you knew you had to get out of there. So, you did. You left and had never looked back. All you wanted was enough money to get out of the city and far, far away. There was nothing here for you anymore. If you could win the games then you could finally start fresh somewhere.

Walking through the doors onto a floor of sand and brightly coloured walls, you heard the voice of Thanos talking to his friend. Instantly, you looked down at the ground, hoping he didn’t see you. Unfortunately for you, he had stood next to you. His eyes scanned your face before recognition lit his eyes up.

“Senorita!” He said in a sing-song voice, wide grin on his face as he outstretched his arms. “What are you doing here? Come on, give me a hug.”

“None of your business and no thanks,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m hurt,” he splayed his hand on his chest over his heart. As much as he was using his confident swagger to irritate you, deep inside he couldn’t be more glad to see you. “Not even going to give me a chance to talk, huh? That’s stone cold.”

As the rules of the game echoed through the speakers, he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His hand had raised to his friend to stop him from talking to him so he could get a proper look at you. When you had left, that had been the breaking point for him. Everything had gone downhill from there. For so long he’d been trying to seek you out, to apologise but he knew you’d been avoiding him. Your friends wouldn’t tell him where you were, your family had chewed him out the second he had showed up on their doorstep so, eventually, he’d given up. But, here you were.

As Player 456 shouted out about the game being a lie and that you were going to die, your head shot up. Surely he couldn’t be telling the truth, right? Red Light, Green Light was a children’s game. At most you were probably going to be out of the running for the cash if you were caught moving.

“He’s crazy,” Thanos said. It was his way of trying to comfort you. He had instantly noticed the slight panic in your eyes, the way you were rubbing your hands against your thighs. “Don’t listen to him.”

All you could do was nod but there was a gut feeling inside you telling you that maybe it wasn’t entirely all crazy talk. Something about this whole thing felt off. Your eyes caught some girl talking, her hands waving around then suddenly she was on the ground. Instantly, fear gripped you, your stomach dropping. The room around you started to spin – you were really going to die here.

“Hey, hey,” Thanos had reached out, his hand gripping yours as he stood in front of you, back to you. “Stay behind me. I won’t let anything happen to you. You hear me? Stay behind me.”

“But… what if…” The sheer panic in your voice made his heart clench.

“No. We’re both getting out of here alive, okay? Now, stay behind me.” His protective instinct had kicked in. Right now, he didn’t care if you hated him. All he cared about was making sure you survived this so maybe, just maybe, he could finally make things right.

[jaggedamethyst]

not in that way (part two)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: as both of your best friends, steve tries to get you and bucky to bond

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut in an elevator, fingering (r!receiving), discreet, mutual pining, angst, not proofread I'm lazy and tired

notes: thank you guys for the response to the first part...what the fuck?? everything i write for bucky goes insane and i didn't think people wanted more but i got too many messages not to keep writing for him.

ps: wanted to post this tonight… so it may not be seamless, but i will edit when im fully awake bc im half asleep rn

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

The next time you saw Bucky was the following day. He was seated next to Steve as the pair of them lounged in the grass at a park near your house. Steve and you came here a lot—him making a reason to escape Avengers duty and you simply living within walking distance. 

“Hi.” You offered an awkward wave to the men, sitting down on the throw blanket they’d laid in the grass. 

While Steve greeted you, Bucky hardly acknowledged your presence, averting his eyes to watch his friend next to him. Steve dug into a bag beside him and pulled out a few small notebooks. One of them was noticeably more worn; you recognized it as his own sketchbook. 

In his free time since being off ice, Steve found solace in drawing the world around him. Between each image would linger small lists of to-dos, figures of speech he had to know, and bucket list items he hoped to complete one day. He was almost finished with this one, keeping it on him to use at his leisure. He wanted to offer the experience to you both as well, his best friends. 

“I got you these,” Steve passed you and Bucky each a book. “I also have some of my favorite pencils here.” He grabbed a handful and let them fall in front of you. “Whenever I’m feeling...overwhelmed or anxious, I just,” he exhaled a deep breath, “I just put something in here. It helps.” 

You and Bucky watched him intently, nodding at his explanation. 

He continued, “We don’t have to talk—you guys don’t have to…but maybe we could just do this together?” 

“I’d like that.” You spoke first, grabbing a few of the pencils and an eraser. 

“Me too.” 

Bucky spoke. It was low and filled with apprehension, like he was testing the waters of what it was like to use his own voice. You whipped your head to him at the sound, arching your brow as his covered hands reached for a book and pencil. He sat for a while, though, just looking between you and Steve without putting anything down. 

As time passed, you chuckled at your paper a bit, drawing a rough picture of Steve’s concentrated face. He was quite fond of birds, you realized, and he would often draw them. Their presence was fleeting, and he loved that challenge, the idea that one moment they could be here and the next gone. It was similar to life in that way, how the people he loved most would be with him and then not. 

The greatest joys of his life were when a bird would return, perched on the ground in front of him. He found that his life, in particular, was like that. Just when he thought Bucky was really gone, he came back. He was able to finish his drawing now, and you were an amazing addition to the artwork. 

“So,” Steve clasped his hands together, “Who wants to show theirs off?” 

You perked up and excitedly flipped yours with a laugh, pointing to Steve’s upturned face in the sketch. 

He immediately laughed and snatched your book, eyeing the scratch before looking up at you. “No way we sat here for an hour and you drew me in your book.” 

“Believe it,” you shrugged, “I’m an artist.” 

Steve scoffed playfully before tossing the book back to you with a light underhand throw. “What about you, Buck?” 

He’d been into it by then. You weren’t sure when he started to actually draw, but he wouldn’t look away. His brows were pinched, and he pulled at the inner skin of his cheek in concentration. You and Steve exchanged a look when he didn’t reply. 

Steve outstretched a hand toward the book, “Bucky-“ The harsh movement of Bucky pulling his work back toward his chest cut Steve off—he held his hands up in a surrender. “Sorry, buddy. You okay?” 

“I’m good just…got kind of invested.” 

You nodded, observing the way Bucky still clutched the book. “It’s really relaxing Steve. This was a great idea. Right, Bucky?” 

“Right.” He looked between you and Steve before closing the small book and tucking it into his jacket’s inner pocket. He moved to stand suddenly backing toward the road, “I’ll be in the car when you guys are done.” 

He was always like this, pushed people away.

Steve looked to you when Bucky was out of earshot. “Did I say something?” The look on his face was one of pure confusion and concern. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t push it. At least he actually put pencil to paper, you know?”

“You’re right—this is sort of a milestone if you think about it.” 

“I agree, big step for him.” 

On the way back to the tower you let your mind be on Bucky again—the way he so quickly let the good moments be pushed away by whatever small thing bothered him. 

There wasn’t much talking as the group of you got into the elevator, save for Steve making a last-ditch effort to get you and Bucky to talk again. 

“I have a few things to do, but feel free to wait around, and we can hang out again later.” He stood facing the elevator's closed doors with the stoicism he always had. 

Neither you nor Bucky spoke as Steve stepped out of the elevator—his words seeming like an order rather than a random comment. He had that authoritative way about him.

A few seconds after, the doors shut and allowed the cart to spring into action. It made you wobble a bit, the startling movement making you both off-balance briefly. 

When he regained his composure, Bucky finally spoke, glancing over at you. “Today was a good day.” His voice was filled with unease, not having had a moment alone with you since the day prior. 

You nodded. “It was. I had fun.” It was fine, entertaining the small talk. “You have fun?” 

He looked over to you as the tension he’d been holding slowly dissipated—you had that effect on him. Bucky was instead filled with nerves as your eyes rested on him. His lips parted to speak in response, but he couldn’t. Not when you were looking at him so fondly, actually interested in whether or not he enjoyed himself. 

All he could muster was a tight nod, assuring you that he had enjoyed himself, before looking ahead to the elevator doors. Then they jolted again, this time stopping abruptly at the pull of the emergency stop button. 

He looked over at you again but this time in confusion, concern even. “What are you doing?” 

“Why are you being weird?” You tucked yourself into the corner, covering the button so he couldn’t try to leave. You knew, of course, that had he tried he'd be out of here faster than you could even process. But the fact that he hadn’t moved an inch said enough to you. 

“I’m not. I’m being normal-“ 

“Normal for you isn’t…whatever this is.” You looked him up and down, “You’re more—more reserved, methodical. You’re not a jittery person, Bucky.” 

He let out an amused scoff. “I’m only jittery because we’re stuck in an elevator. I'm claustrophobic.” 

“You could get out and you know that.” You crossed your arms, “You just don’t want to.” 

“That’s not it-“ 

“Bucky?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Move me.” You stepped off the wall and inched closer to him. “Move me out the way and press the button.” 

He swallowed but didn’t move—like you expected. Suddenly, you broke the eye contact. He watched you turn and push the red knob back into place. 

As the metal box started to move again you scoffed at him, purposely avoiding eye contact. His breathing sped up, suddenly enticed to prove you so extremely right. 

“Fuck it,” he grabbed your hip with a single had a let his lips fall onto yours. He’d simultaneously pulled the button with a free hand, distracting you by how eagerly he’d started kissing you. 

The startling jolt of the elevator and Bucky combined sent you back into the side wall, colliding with the long bar with a hiss. Bucky didn’t stop, swallowing the sound with his own mouth on yours. He was needy, pressing his tongue into and through your lips. He’d waited so long for this, and it was absolutely worth it. 

You were completely insatiable. You let Bucky use you, a fondness for the feeling now. The both of you moaned into each other, carelessly wrapping yourselves in one another. You snaked your hands up to his face, pulling him in impossibly closer. You could feel his stubble on your face, suddenly smiling at the burn you’d have between your thighs with him settled there. He felt your smirk and pulled away to look at you. 

Buck smirked, too. You were in a daze, swaying on your feet as your eyes pulled back into focus. 

He watched you leaned into the wall, lowering his head. The layered top of his hair fell over, covering your view of his beautiful face. He stayed looking down but spoke in a low tone, “Take off your pants.” 

“Make. Me.” You smiled, repeating yourself slowly. 

He made a show of lifting his head and letting his hair settle back into place. He was in that damn jacket again, always was. You stayed watching him, tilting your head in amusement as he shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor. Even slower, he took off his gloves. You’d never even actually seen both his hands, only hearing of the metal arm that rested beneath his clothing. 

He let his hand flex in front of you, gulping at how quickly he’d decided to show you this part of himself. Bucky didn’t think twice, actually, completely motivated by the opportunity to be close to you. He kept eye contact, hands on his hips and moving forward until your chests met. 

“I have no problem taking matters into my own hands.” With that he simply moved a hand to your pants button. You could tell he was proud, bobbing his head lightly at the way he could so easily strip you without even looking away from your face. You cracked a smile at the way he slid your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. He let you slip your shoes off too, still chest to chest. 

He kept looking at you, spreading your legs with his thigh. He ignored the way you were dripping, sliding one of your legs up onto his waist. He kept his grip there, firmly holding you. 

“Don’t move, I got you.” 

He slipped two fingers into you slowly, pumping in and out at a torturous pace that immediately had your jaw dropping. The sight of you unraveling was amazing and he kept his eyes locked with yours until they fluttered shut. 

You felt helpless, completely entranced by his fingers rubbing your walls. Your breaths came out ragged, “We just—we don’t tell him okay?” You shook your head, eyes opening slightly at Bucky. 

“Mhm, yeah…no Steve.” Bucky looked at you, eyebrows pinched and whimpering. “It’s nothing-“

“Right.” You moaned between each word now, bouncing with his harsh movement. “Nothing.” 

He kept going, speeding up at the squelching sounds that were now like music to his ears. He could tell you were struggling, teetering on the edge every few seconds but not quite exploding. The continuous heat made it feel like you could pop at any moment. It was too good. He was too good. It felt cliche to let this overtake what was blossoming for you both—the transition from acquaintance to friend. 

But you couldn’t help it. 

You’d been holding onto the bar on the wall, but the position was a lot. As he pressed into you over and over, you started to lose balance, hardly standing on the toes of one foot. He kept going even as you shook. He felt your body sliding, hardly keeping yourself up anymore. Your hand fell to the side and accidentally highlighted over a cluster of the floor buttons, illuminating them in an irregular pattern. 

Bucky chuckled but quickly readjusted without missing a beat. He nudged your body into his arm more, completely holding you up with ease now. You felt like a ragdoll, and it reminded you so quickly of the sheer strength of the man that was in you now. You could tell with his hand jacking into you regardless, the flesh of him flexing into you so tastefully. 

He suddenly stopped, slipping out of you as you gripped his neck for more leverage. He again moved you with ease, putting you into his right arm now. His head tilted, ready to see your reaction to his metal hand filling you. 

You gasped at the cooled tips of his fingers teasing your hole, just barely entering before he pulled back out. He could tell you were sensitive now and savored it, only letting you feel him when you calmed down from his slow pumps before. 

He let you whine like this for a bit longer before adding a finger, surprising you with three fingers ramming into you. He was completely soulless about it now, mouth agape at the way your body reacted. He knew you were close and urged you on. 

“Doing so good.” He nodded. “You gonna come soon?” His tone was almost mocking, your condition evident. Suddenly, you snapped, head falling into his neck. 

“Yes, yes, yes…” You couldn’t help but repeat to yourself, whispering through the writhes into his palm. 

Your hips rolled, and he met you with a soft kiss into your temple. You slowed, then, coming down from the intensity of the ordeal.

You breathed into him without a word, smirking at the man in from of you. Bucky let you down, grabbing your pants for you and sliding them onto your now wobbling legs. He nudged your shoes with his feet before kneeling down and sliding them on, patting your leg when he was done. You were in another world, only slipping back to him at the sound of the elevator returning to motion.

You let out a laugh at the elevator slowly stopping on a random assortment of floors. At a higher one, Bucky finally stepped off, turning back to look at you for a second. You hadn’t expected anything more; he was often wordless, and he proved you right the night before…when he left so carelessly. 

“You coming?” 

With a ding, the elevator doors slowly moved to close. Through them, you watched Bucky, standing and looking at you expectedly. “Just did, actually.” 

He choked at that but jerked forward, putting a hand between to doors to stop them. “So, is that a yes?” He tilted his head back, “Maybe watch a movie or something?” 

You intended to head home at first, not expecting him to extend this hand. This wasn’t like him—his usual closed-off self. Admittedly, you enjoyed this better. He now had a willingness that never was there before. It was jarring—the way he seemed to do a 180 from last night. 

You reasoned that maybe you could enjoy yourself and finally be the friend Steve needed you to be—to love his friend the way he did so many years ago. For Bucky, it was grasping at straws; he wanted to keep you around in any way he could. He would never be Steve—could never be the image of a perfect man that you deserved. 

We’re better as friends. 

He repeated the mantra in his mind, affirming himself despite part of him saying otherwise. He could stand to be this with you, friends with something more every once in a while. Hell, every day if you let him. He settled so you wouldn’t have to. You didn’t deserve someone like him, an undeniable shroud of darkness that clouded over your blinding light. 

“You know what, why the hell not?” You stepped off the elevator cart and brushed by the man. “I get to pick the movie though.” 

“‘Course, doll.” 

part three

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[sdmnpact]

"Is that my shirt?"

George Clarke x Reader ff

[] Good Friends with Arthur Hill

[] Arthur Hill invites you to film a drunk cooking videos, things get messy, and you end up in George's shirt.

~~~

"Hey you guys, I'm here with one of my best friends, Y/n!" Arthur pointed at you as you came into the frame waving your arms around. "Hey!! Thanks for inviting me!" You said cheerfully. "Glad you're here! So, today we're gonna be baking a cake BUT we're gonna be getting drunkkk!" He said in a singing song tone. "AND only one of us gets to see the recipe!" He said excitedly showing off the bottle and paper.

You were sorta of excited for this because you always enjoy a good drink with Hill. You two began getting everything in order, setting up the ingredients, shot glasses and cleaning the surfaces. "Okay lets begin." He said clapping his hands together.

You both started off with a shot each. You whinced as the liquid burned your throat. Arthur insisted that he give the instructions and you would mainly fix the ingredient proportions. "Okay pour all your dry ingredients~" he went on listing them as you tried pouring the correct measurements. "New rule! Each time you spill something, thats a shot! Aside from the 1 shot every 20 minutes!" He said in a matter of fact tone raising a finger.

You looked down at the giant mess of flour you made before he said that. "Oh thats just not fair!" You tried contending. "Drink up!" He semi shouted. You sighed as you poured yourself another shot, his eyes focused on you making sure you dont under pour. You poured it back whincing once again at the sensation. "Oh! Look at that, 20 minutes passed, another shot!" He said snickering to himself. You groaned as you poured two more shots.

After a while, you were starting to feel the effects, spilling more as you felt more tipsy. Arthur was getting noticeably drunker as well as you lot were just laughing and making a huge mess instead of making the cake and homemade frosting, well attempting to at least.

By the end of the video, the cake was a lopsided mess and you two were hammered. You were both covered in flour, your clothes somehow dripping with some liquid. "Ew, Arthur, do you have something I can wear?" You asked trying to pull your shirt off. "Oh yeah, give me a second." He said walking off down the hallway leaving you standing in the living room with a sports bra. He returned wearing some fresh clothes and tossed you a large tshirt. You quickly pulled it over yourself.

"Wanna stay here for the night then?" He said lazily as he plopped on the couch. "Sure, cant get an uber like this." You said pointing at yourself. "Im gonna throw my clothes in the wash" you said as he nodded.

You stumbled to the washer machine and took off your pants placing both your clothes inside turning it on. You were quite comfortable with Arthur, you guys tried dating a while back ago but you weren't right for each other. You guys became good friends after that and you frequently hang out. You're also somewhat good friends with his roommates but you dont hang out with them unless Arthur is there. He said they were out tonight so you shouldn't expect them home too soon. That was good news for you because you were just walking around in a large tshirt and underwear.

You were walking back towards the living room until you heard another voice. You slowly creeped around the corner and saw George. You felt yourself get nervous because you didn't want him to see you like that. Either way you were gonna have to walk out eventually. You walked towards the couch hoping he didnt notice how you were dressed.

"Oh hey Y/n! -Um, is that my shirt?" He asked. You turned to look towards him, he looked really nice. He had on a loose fitted shirt that revealed a lot of his chest and his hair was especially curly. "Oh- is it? My bad." Arthur said turning to face you then turning back towards the tv. You mentally scolded him for not telling you that it was George's shirt. "Im sorry, I can change if you'd like!" You said nervously.

"No- its alright. It actually looks better on you than me." He chuckled causing a blush to rise to your cheeks. "I thought you weren't gonna be here until later." You asked George, finally sitting on the couch near Arthur. He seemed sort of out of it and was focused on whatever was on the tv. "Yeah, it was sort of dead tonight so I thought I should just go home. Im glad I-" he stopped himself. "Yeah just wanted to come home." He finished, changing his words.

You found it slightly strange but chose to ignore it. "Well, do you wanna join us? Im staying over tonight so we were-" I paused and looked towards Arthur, who was struggling to stay awake. "Well we were going to watch movies but it looks like Mr. Hill here, can't handle his liquor." You giggled looking at the red cheeked boy passed out on the couch next to you. "Sure! Might as well have someone keep you company." He said laughing at Arthur, who's head was now leaning back with his mouth open.

George walked over, sitting on the other side of you, making himself comfortable. "Looks like you two had a good night, at least." He said, his focus still on Arthur. "Yeah, we filmed a video and you know how it goes." You giggled feeling slightly embarassed and self conscious that you were slurring your words. "You dont seem as bad- I guess you can actually handle your alcohol." He laughed as you nodded. "Yeah, Im slightly out of it but Im alright." You said.

"Well- are you hungry? I can order us a pizza or something?" He asked. You were kind of hungry and nodded your head. You watched as he pulled up his phone seeing a text from Chris.

Can't believe you ditched me for a girl 😠

A girl? You wondered who they were talking about but looked away once he began asking what you wanted. You both agreed on pizza and some toppings as he made the order. Your attention went back to the tv, you were watching Rush Hour as Arthur had put it on before he passed out.

"Do you like this movie?" George asked. "Yeah, its funny." You responded, he just nodded. You two spent the rest of thirty minutes watching the movie until the food arrived. He brought it over to you and brought you some plates. "I dont suppose you want another alcoholic beverage?" He asked with a smile. You shook your head. "No, just a soda for me please." He nodded and brought you one, grabbing a beer for himself. Arthur was still there, his sleeping body just adding to the ambiance.

You both continued watching the movie while eating until it was over. "So, what do you wanna do now?" He asked scrolling through the selection of movies. "We could makeout?" You said jokingly. You noticed how he stiffened, now sitting upright. You regreted your little joke. "Im kidding." You said trying to save yourself from the awkwardness that was seeping in.

"I know... but..." he started leaving you wondering what his next words were going to be. "What if you weren't kidding.." he said, fiddling with his fingers. You went wide eyed thinking about what he meant. Your mind was spiraling now. "What do you mean?" You asked nervously. "You don't understand, do you?" He asked, standing in front of you now. You shook your head slowly.

"He likesss youuuuuuuuugh!" You heard suddenly, both of your heads whipping to look towards Arthur, his eyes still closed and his head still titled back. "Is that true?" You asked, looking back towards George. "Thanks a lot, Arthur." He said as Arthur just waved him off. George came closer, grabbing your hand, beckoning you to stand up. You struggled a bit, but he held you tightly. "Yes. I like you, Y/n." He said with an awkward chuckle. "I've actually liked you for a while-"

"He watches all your videos, he always asks me to invite you over, he-" "OKAY! Thanks Arthur, Ive got it from here!" George said, trying to get Arthur quiet. "Out with it then!" Arthur responded, turning in his seat, hugging a pillow in a fetal position. "Yeah, you dont think I'm weird now, do you?" He asked for reassurance.

"Of course not." You said, placing a hand on his cheek. "I think it's quite sweet, actually." You grinned widely. You felt your heart flutter at this sudden confession. You never really had eyes for George, but you always found him so interesting and funny. You have to admit, you also watched most of his videos and would occasionally steal a glance or two whenever you're in the same room.

"Do you think you'd fancy a date with me then?" He asked sheepishly. "I would love to!" You replied, smiling from ear to ear. "Yay..." You heard a very low but cheery sound coming from the ball on the couch. "Thanks, Arthur!" You beamed happily. Suddenly, he sat upright. "You're welcome, BUT I want to be the best man or maid of honor at the wedding." He said seriously. "You've got it, mate." George chuckled, looking at you. You spent the rest of the night basically curled up with George while Arthur mustered up enough energy to head to his room. "This doesn't count as a first date, just so you know." He said, his head resting on yours. You smiled melting further into him, feeling safe and comfortable in his arms.

[lawchwan]

do you like the sound of the music? (law, ace, sanji, zoro, kid)

summary: how the boys sound when they're getting pleasured. reader: gn!reader genre: smut disclaimer: not super detailed smut, but a grave detail on how these fine men sound like a/n: I know I haven't done an a/n, but it has been a minute since I posted here. I have been preoccupied (thanks to being a senior at uni) but now that I am done with everything, I hope I have more free time to post some fics and reignite my love for writing. I won't bore you much and we will proceed with more content (also my fem!law fic is in the works and it'll be put out sometime soon)

crossposted on ao3

Law

as much as i'd like to advocate for the whimper-whiny-loud-subby!law agenda that i have been adapting to my psyche while i was gone, he seems like the quiet kind while he's pleasuring you.

obviously not the type to be overtly silent to the point you won't hear a breath out of him. he's just simply a grunter and a light growler. he won't be very vocal unless you want him too.

when he comes, thats when you hear the magic beautiful sounds. it depends on the type of sex, dynamic, and/or pace you two have set in, he’ll either grunt a dragged deep moan or a slight whimper that cascades into your ears as he spills out his load onto you.

“mm, shit, fuck, y/n, you feel so fucking good…fuck~”

ace

oh that loud ass motherfucker. if you expect him to quiet down, well you’re out of luck. even if you placed a gag on his mouth, he’ll still spill out the loudest moan any human could produce (please gag him, he actually loves it).

ngl he kinda is the type to give exaggerated noises, like im talking those very exaggerated moans that you would hear in those shitty pornos (that ace may or may not unironically enjoy).

if you want to illicit the most hottest whimper that spills out of his mouth, simply just stroke and tug on his wavy locks—he will definitely go feral over this simple manuever. his mouth would probably be wrapped around your nipples, and his muffled moans could be heard on the outside, disturbing whoever’s nearby.

“mm—pfah! you think you can cover my mouth, baby?! huh?! think again—oo FUCK!~”

sanji

another loud boy. maybe not as loud as ace, but definitely can be loud if he needs to be.

he’ll honestly let out the most cutest and hottest moans any person can produce, it can even border into whimpering. he does get embarrassed when he gets super loud though, so keep a gag nearby if needed.

he’ll, however, take pride that only you can push him into the edge and let him produce music to your ears, much to the dismay of the crew. he’ll sometimes purposely moan out loud if it means to piss off zoro and keep him up from his slumber, leaving the green mosshead disgruntled and disgusted.

“oh~oh my god! y/n! you feel so—fuck!”

zoro

zoro’s a grunter. next.

no but in all seriousness, he does seem like a grunter and the type to give you dirty talk. he, like law, is not that talkative but he’ll say the most filthiest of shit in your ears that will leave you melting under his touch.

he’ll also maybe taunt you by groaning along with you with a smirk as he looks down at your wet parts.

“aww, you want my cock that badly?… well you might have to beg for it”

kid

jesus this man is crazy in bed. he strikes me as the type to be a growler. he seems to me to be very animalistic as he rails you like there’s mo tomorrow.

i can see him pinning your hips down as he thrusts himself into you, throwing his head back, letting out the loudest growls and groans as he speeds himself up. he’ll probably start talking in haste manner as well as soon as he feels himself getting closer to let his waterfall out.

“c’mon.. fucking, c’mon! you better come for me. come for me. come for me. come for me—grrr FUCK!”

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[im-sleepdeprived]

do u think u can do a Peter Parker x reader where reader is gone for a while and has her phone off, and Peter gets super scared only to find out she’s alright?? I love ur work u’re the best xx

'No location found'

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: thank you for the request !!!! i had this written, then I decided to rewrite it lmao. I pictured college pete but Im not sure if I specified, also not sure if anyone saw my post abt writing a fic inspired by ‘peter’ by taylor swift but i think im going to start working on that and that its gonna be a mini series👀.... so stay tuned and request something in the meantime !!

warnings: none

masterlist, requests are open !!

“That’s not what I said!”

“Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.”

You two had been going at it for a while now. Peter had missed yet another date you’d both planned. It’d been a while since you both spent time together, and you thought he was finally going to change that. Until he just stood you up again. 

You’d thought after moving in together, you’d see him all the time. The opposite was true. He was always out, either on patrol, at Stark Tower, or wherever else his Superhero duties took him.  The problem was, that place never seemed to be with you.

“Y/N please-”

“No, Peter! I’m sick of it! I try to be understanding, I really do, I try to give you grace, but every time I do it’s like you just make it worse.” You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, “Honestly at this point, it feels like you don’t even care anymore.”

His face fell. “Come on baby. You can't seriously think that! It was just a mistake, I won't do it again.”

You nodded, “Right. Think I’ve heard that one before.” You turned around and walked towards your shared bedroom.

“Woah, hey. Wait a minute, where’re you going?” His voice was hurt, and you almost felt bad for turning your back.

Shaking your head and looked down at your dress. You’d gotten all dressed up, expecting a nice dinner followed by a walk in the park. You said, “I’m tired, I’m gonna change and get ready for bed. Sorry, but hey, at least now your schedule is freed up,” you gave him a weak smile, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Y/N you know it’s not like that. Look you’re all dressed up,” he reached for your arm, “we can still go out. Please, let me make it up to you”

Looking into his eyes, it took everything in you to pull away. 

“Peter,” you whispered, voice so quiet, yet so full of emotion. 

“I don’t want us to fight,” he begged. 

'We’re not fighting, not anymore. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” He nodded, but still kept his hand on you, reluctant to let go. “I’ll sleep on the couch?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice right now.

He deflated. He wasn’t exactly expecting you to object, but still. It hurt that you wanted to be away from him so bad. 

“Good night,” he muttered, watching you walk towards the door with sullen eyes. “I’m right here if you need anything.”

You gave him the tiniest tip of your head, not even bothering to turn around, “Night.”

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

You slept in that day. It was Saturday and you didn’t feel like doing anything. Even after you woke up, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone, heart pounding a little harder when you saw messages from Peter pop up, before effectively sliding them away.

After a few hours of doomscrolling, you stepped out of the room. You could see a throw blanket neatly folded on the couch, you have no idea if he’d even used a pillow. Your heart thrummed with guilt and you decided that tonight he was definitely sleeping on the bed. Or at the very least, you’d sleep on the couch. 

Walking into the kitchen, you noticed a tray with a note sitting atop a covered plate. When you got closer, you saw that the note held a cheesy breakfast pun. So Peter.

I love you a waffle lot! With a bunch of hearts around it. You couldn’t help it, you cracked a smile. He was such a dork. And you loved it. 

You heated up your breakfast and had gotten well into eating when your phone started ringing. Was it Peter? You didn’t really want to speak to him, not yet at least. You’d kind of hoped you wouldn’t have to until tonight-

You picked up your phone and almost let out a sigh of relief when you realized it was just one of your friends, Maddie. Then you felt bad for feeling relieved. 

You answered the phone. “Hey Mads, how's it going.” 

“Hi Y/N! Good! I was just calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight? Listen, before you say no-”

“No that sounds great actually,” you cut her off quickly, eager for an excuse to get out of the house. You’d been canceling plans for way too long in hopes of spending even a moment with Peter, and it seemed as if even your friends had noticed. But no more.

“Really? Great! So there's this raging new club,” she went on, giving you all the details of who was going and who might be there and you listened but barely felt a hint of excitement. You weren’t sure if it was because it was a frat party, and those things rarely appealed to you, or if it was lingering feelings from your argument with Peter. Which reminded you why you’d wanted to go out in the first place. 

“We’re gonna pregame at my place though, so stop by here and I’ll take you!” She finished, making you smile. Maddie was always sweet, a little more wild than you, but that’s what made you like her. 

“Sure Maddie, thanks for the invite.”

“Of course, can’t wait to see you, I feel like it's been forever since we went out together.”

You let out a small laugh, “I know what you mean. But we’re gonna change that tonight. 

You said your goodbyes and hung up. You needed to start getting ready soon, despite you just eating breakfast, you’d stayed in all morning and it was pretty late already. 

You got ready quietly, only a playlist you’d turned on droning in the background as you did your hair and makeup. You walked over to the closet to pick out an outfit and felt a little sad. Usually, Peter was here during this part, helping you pick out something, annoying you when he said you looked beautiful in everything. 

“Peter! I need real criticism!”

“Well, I can’t help it if my girl looks stunning in everything!”

You picked out a nice outfit you deemed fit for clubbing before grabbing a pair of heels and stepping out of your room. Looking around at the empty apartment you realized you should probably let Peter know you weren’t going to be home tonight. You didn’t feel like calling him though, and if you didn’t want to open his messages from earlier either so you decided to take a page out of his book. 

Grabbing a sticky note, you wrote down the briefest of explanations, before sticking it on your fridge and leaving. 

He had sent texts saying Good morning!, Do you need anything?, and another explaining he’d be out for a while but he’d made you breakfast, all in hopes of you responding to him. You didn’t, but that wasn’t too shocking to him. It didn’t make it hurt any less though. 

He knew he fucked up. He knew he’d disappointed you again, let you down again. He knew he deserved this and more. He should be grateful you weren’t giving him the more. And he was! But he couldn’t help the small selfish part of him that just wished you would let him take you out tonight, or give him something else he could do to make up for it because there was nothing he hated more in the world than when you were mad at him. And he did not want to sleep on the couch again. Sure it was uncomfortable but that was the least of his worries. He hated not sleeping next to you.

That had been his favorite part about the two of you moving into your own place, that he got to hold you every night. After a rough night of patrolling, or working too long on his studies, or a new gadget, he got to go home and hold you, get lost in your touch, and that always made everything better. And it killed him to know you were just down the hall, and he wasn’t with you. 

He tried his best to rush everything, trying to get all his work done for the day so he could spend the whole night with you. He was planning a movie night, bingeing all your favorites. He was gonna give you a proper date, soon, but right now, all that mattered was you two spending time together. 

On his way home, he stopped at a corner store to grab snacks for the two of you, making sure to get all your favorite ones. He even stopped at a flower shop not far from your apartment to grab you a bouquet and his heart fell when he realized how long it’d been since he’d done this. He definitely deserved the more. 

He knocked on the door of your apartment a few times and his heart fell as he realized you were either dead set on ignoring him, or you weren’t home. When he pulled out his keys and let himself in, he realized it was the latter. 

Sighing, he set down the bags of snacks and placed the bouquet down as he ran a hand through his hair as he walked around. He entered the kitchen and felt a little better when he saw the dishes he’d used to plate your breakfast were washed and on the drying rack, meaning you’d eaten. 

He was about to pull out his phone to see if he’d missed a text from you when he saw something on the fridge. 

“Went out. Be home late.”

His brows furrowed as he read. He didn’t know you had plans. Hell, he didn’t even know if you had plans now, your note barely explained anything.

All he could do was wait until you came home to sort everything out.

Peter could handle the silent treatment (barely), but what he couldn't handle, was not knowing if you were safe or not. No. That wouldn’t fly. 

He’d sent you a text when he got home, letting you know he got your note and to have fun and be safe. 

An hour later, he sent another text. Just as a little check-in. Still no response. 

It had been about three hours since he’d gotten back when he noticed that his messages had lost the little mark that indicated they were delivered. Weird. 

He tried to call you, he’d refrained from doing so before because he thought he should let you have your space (which was why, he assumed, you’d left in the first place) but it didn’t even ring, he just got sent straight to voicemail. 

What made him really start to panic, however, was when he went to check your location, which he felt so stupid for not doing before, and it wouldn’t load. It kept saying ‘no location found’ making his heart beat harder.

This was worse. You were ignoring him, his messages and calls weren’t going through. Something was wrong, was your phone off? Were you mugged? Or even worse-

He stopped himself before he could spiral too hard. That wouldn’t help, right now, he needed to figure out where you were and if you were okay.  He knew you weren’t the kind of person who would go out to bars or parties alone. Maybe you went out with a friend? Or maybe you were at a friend's? It was a place to start. 

He started calling your friends, people he knew you might go out with, and on the fifth call he finally got answers. Or…something like that. 

“Hello?” Maddie yelled into the phone, making Peter pull his phone away. 

“Hey Maddie, it’s Peter.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s dude,” she slurred. 

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N’s dude. Hey listen, is she with you? She went out tonight but she forgot to tell me where, and now my messages aren’t sending.” His pulse was racing. It sounded like Maddie was out, if the blaring music in the background was anything to go off of, and he was desperate to know you were okay. 

“Sorry Patrick, what’d you say,” she asked making Peter’s brows furrow. They weren’t exactly friends, but he’d met Maddie a few times. Enough times for her to know his name was not Patrick.

He shook his head, that didn’t matter right now. “Y/N. Is she with you, do you go out together?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed as if she’d just remembered something. “Yeah, she is!”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. 

“Or, she was.” He held his breath again. 

“What do you mean ‘she was’? Where is she?”

“I dunno, she left I think.” Maddie let out a little hum as if to say ‘too bad!’ and Peter was sure she must be extremely intoxicated, otherwise there was no way she could be so casual about something like this. He could barely keep himself together.

He ran a hand over his face as he tried not to raise his voice. This was getting frustrating. “She left? Where’d she go? Where are you right now?”

“I don’t know…she was bored I think. She was off today. S’shame, she looked so hot.”

His heart clenched when he realized the reason you were off, was because of him. You didn’t have fun, so you left, now he had no idea where you were and it was all his fault. 

“Where are you, Maddie?” He repeated. 

“That new club on 27th! Get down here Paul, it's so much fun!” She gushed and Peter rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. 

He hung up quickly, not bothering to say goodbye before he got up to put his suit on. He couldn't stand the thought of something happening to you because you were upset and distracted because of him. That you weren't even speaking to him.

There was no way he was going to let anything happen to you. 

You were walking outside, up and down the sidewalk. You knew it wasn’t the safest decision but you didn’t really care. The club was stuffy, humid, and way too loud. You just needed to breathe, and then you’d go back. Maybe. 

You considered hailing a cab and going back home right now. You’d send Maddie a text, but she probably hadn’t noticed you’d left in the first. She’d been having a blast, unlike you, drinking shots and dancing with every guy she felt like. You weren’t sure she remembered you stopping her to tell her you’d be gone for a bit. 

On second thought, you were kind of hungry. You hadn’t eaten anything other than Peter’s waffles for you that morning and there was an amazing smell floating from a food cart at the end of the block. You could help yourself to something before going home. 

Before you could reach the food cart, you were flying. Or rather, swinging. You knew who it was right away. 

Just as fast as he’d snatched you up, Peter put you down on an isolated rooftop, leaving just you and him high above everyone else.

You were about to reprimand him, about to demand an answer as to why he’d just done that, but there wasn’t a chance before he was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Pete?” Your voice was soft, you sensed there was something wrong and suddenly any anger or annoyance you held, from now or the night before, disappeared.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled as if that was his way of an answer. 

Your brows furrowed. “Well…yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulled away then, taking off his mask, and you saw just how terrified he looked, scaring you as well. There might’ve even been a little red rimming his eyes, making you wonder if he was holding back tears. “I came home and I brought snacks and flowers and I thought we could spend the rest of the night together but saw your note. So I texted you and I get that you’re mad at me-”

“I’m not,” you said, and you meant it. You weren’t mad at him, especially right now, seeing him all shaken up like this. “But what's wrong?”

“My texts weren’t delivering, my calls went straight to voicemail, and I couldn’t track your location. Y/N, I got so scared something happened and you weren’t talking to me.” He sniffled and your heart broke a little. 

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, but when you tried to turn it on—dead. 

“God sweetheart, never do that to me again. Please.” He looked at you desperately, “Yell at me. Fight with me. But please never ignore me anymore, I can’t stand it.”

“I’m so sorry Petey, I had no idea my phone died. I would’ve said something I swear. I never want you to worry like that.” Your hands went up to hold his face. 

He brought a hand to hold your wrist. Gently running his thumb up and down your hand he said, “I always worry about you sweetheart, it’s my job.”

You shook your head, “You worry about all of New York, I don’t need to add on to that.”

“No,” he said quickly, looking offended you’d even say that, “No. Never think like that. You are the most important thing in my life, okay? You’re my first priority and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, that I don’t show that or say it enough.

“But I’m going to do better, I promise. I’m going to make it up to you because I can’t lose you, I need you Y/N.”

You didn’t reply, instead just smashed your lips onto his. His hands slid down to your waist, holding you tight. It was a kiss of forgiveness, of second chances, and new beginnings.

He pulled away first, but not before pressing multiple kisses all around your face. “Heels off baby,” he said as he knelt down and started working on your heel straps, lifting each foot onto his thigh before undoing each one. You didn’t even realize how much they’d been hurting until they were off. “I’m swinging you.” He picked you up swiftly, one arm wrapping itself around your ribs.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Peteyyyy. You know the wind tangles my hair too much.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss you on the top of your head, “I’ll be careful, c’mon.”

You move your head to peck his cheek and then hug him tight, “I love you.”

He grinned, pulling you in closer. “I love you more sweetheart.” He leaned back and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. “Hold on tight, Spider Monkey.”

You burst into laughter, “You did not just say that!” 

“Oh I totally did,” he gave you the goofiest smile, making you laugh again. 

“Ok, just…don’t let me go,” you said as you wrapped your arms tighter around him. 

“Never,” he replied, and something in his voice told you he wasn’t just talking about swinging. 

[ssentimentals]

im so glad that i found your blog, was looking for some wholesome texts with reader/seungcheol and yours are so nicely written, i enjoy them so much! thank you 🫶🏻 if i could leave a request, i'd love to read something where reader is a foreigner and some miscommunication happens but solved without much drama (with help of vernon or shua maybe). thank you for your blog once again!

awwww this is so cute!! thank you so much for your kind words anonie, i'm happy you're enjoying this blog <3 and of course you can leave a request, hopefully you'll like it!

seungcheol + foreigner!reader

no matter how hard he tried, seungcheol couldn't pinpoint how something so small escalated at rapid speed and turned into a full blown argument which left you both angry and offended. he can't even remember how it started, doesn't have any idea on what even caused you two to start arguing. the whole part of 'not seeing eye to eye' is generally an unfamiliar concept for your relationships, so seungcheol really has a hard time grasping the reality of you not talking to him. it hurts too bad, hurts much stronger than he expected; cheol knows that fights happen and that it's normal, but somehow he still thought that you two will be spared from this.

'she's not picking up?' vernon asks and seungcheol shakes his head. 'and she's not at home?'

'she's at the gym.' seungcheol answers. by this point he learned your schedule by heart. 'should be back home in thirty minutes or so.'

this is ridicilous. both the argument and his moping. cheol knew very well that coming from different cultural backgrounds will echo in the relationships dynamic one way or another: different past, upbringing, culture, language have a huge impact on the personalities and views. he was ready for some tension but you both settled into this relationship so smoothly that he honestly forgot about cultural differences. he should've known that they'll pop on in some way.

'go over it with me again.' seungcheol asks, sighing. 'from the scratch and make it logical, please. start with what i did wrong then move to why it was incorrect.'

vernon, god bless him, is not tired of explaining again. he was the first person seungcheol called to when all of this happened and his younger friend agreed to help readily. in a calm tone vernon helps seungcheol understand your angle, how his words that held no malice intent managed to come out wrong. 'it's not that big of a deal though,' vernon adds, seeing how seungcheol frowned even deeper. 'i mean, it's not ideal but like, it happens, it's okay. there's no way you could've known, so it's normal.'

'even so, it sucks.' seungcheol sighs, rubbing his eyes. he understands that you two just got a bit too emotional over everything, but he still feels a huge sense of guilt on his shoulders.

'i promise you it's not that big of a deal.' vernon reassures.

seungcheol nods. even if it's not that big of a deal having you not to talk him is the worst thing that could ever happen. he gets up, dusting his jeans off. vernon eyes him carefully and then smiles. 'you good?'

'yeah. gotta go and make it right.'

seungcheol waits for around ten minutes in front of your house when he notices your lonely figure in the distance. clad in your workout gear, he can see even from there that you're sulking, walking in a slow speed. without thinking twice, seungcheol runs to meet you, his legs carrying him faster than wind to your side. when you notice him you pause at first and he almost thinks that he is fucking up here too, but then you start running towards him and oh. oh.

'baby,' seungcheol breathes out, catching you when you throw yourself at him, wrapping your legs around his hips. with strong hands he stabilizes you, holding you securely close to his chest. 'baby, my baby.'

'cheollie,' you mutter, hugging him tight. 'i'm so-'

'no, shh,' seungcheol interrupts. 'it's me who's sorry, okay? i am sorry, i didn't know. i promise i didn't know-'

'i know!' you lean back and hit him lightly at the shoulder. 'let me finish! i know that you had no idea, cheol. i'm sorry for reacting the way i did.'

seungcheol breathes out in relief. he really got incredibly lucky with you, huh? 'i'd never say anything intentionally hurtful to you,' he promises sincerely, making you smile softly. 'never, baby. hurting you will hurt me more.'

'i know,' you whisper, leaning in until your foreheads touch. 'i know, cheol.'

'i love you,' seungcheol whispers. 'so much, babygirl. so much.'

you giggle and instead of answering, kiss him sweetly on the lips.

a/n: hope it was fine!! let me know what you think :') - nini

my other seventeen works are HERE

[nerdygirlramblings]

hiiii. sorry to bother. i put up the ASDA request and I was giggling and kicking my feet! it was so good!!!!

but what about someone on the opposite end? Their wife/partner who loves to be at home, having everything clean and hot meals ready for when they get home. They find a way to fill the time: reading from their constantly growing ‘to be read’ list/TBR or they took up knitting to make Soap a beanie or something for the cold winter months. She’s antisocial but loves her boys and will literally stay home for them for as long as they want her there…

im trying to be that housewife

@caffieneaddictt18 thank you for another ask! This got a little away from me, but I hope it fits what you were looking for despite the long and winding road to get there ❤️

cw: poorly executed accents

You were never a huge fan of being around others. You had your people - your family, some close friends from primary and secondary school, mates from uni - but sometimes even they drained you. Parties and dinners and just sitting around chatting until the night wore on to morning took you days to recover from. You go because it's what they expected. It's what's normal. It isn't until you've been out of uni for several years, looking for a new job that might get you out of the city, that you stumble on the social battery theory. How you've always felt suddenly makes so much sense.

You lean into the idea that you charge your battery best alone or in situations of your choosing. You find a company that doesn't let but actively wants you to telework. Your new boss says the CEO likes how telework cuts down on overhead, and the CEO'd also heard how telework boosts productivity. They pay you more than your old job did, so you can afford a little cottage in the country.

The closest town to your little cottage has a thriving pensioner population, and their activities suit you perfectly. You find things you enjoy and learn to socialize on your terms.

One afternoon, a few weeks after moving into your cottage, you stop into the fabric shop looking for materials to make curtains. The mid-afternoon sun comes in too brightly for you to see your computer screen, and while you could move your home office, you like being able to look out over your back garden as you work. In the shop, you see a flyer for a crochet class and realize it would be nice to have a cozy throw blanket over your worn couch like the one your Gran made when you were a kid. You sign up for the class without any reservation.

Another week, after setting up an account at the library, you stop in the cafe at the corner for a warm cuppa. There are seven or eight people in the shop, all sitting at the tables and in the comfy chairs at the back, but no one's talking. They aren't even looking at one another. You know they have to be a group because there are several open tables and seating spaces, but these people are sitting too close together for it to be out of crowded necessity. When you ask the man behind the counter, he tells you it's a silent book club and points out the club's leader. You don't plan to wait, but you pull your book out all the same, and when the book club breaks up, you make your way to the woman in charge. She tells you when and where they meet and says you're welcome to join whenever you want.

It's at your fourth silent book club you meet John. You've taken to sitting at one of the tall tables with Mable, a widow who said you reminder her of her own granddaughter, "But you're much more content to sit and keep an old woman company than she is, dear." Mable is not here today, so you're alone on the outskirts of the club.

You've been reading silently for the last twenty minutes when you hear a gentle cough and look up into stunningly blue eyes and a mutton-chopped framed smile. "Sorry, ma'am," the man rumbles, "but I was wondering if this seat was free."

You look around the cafe, surprised to see far more seats filled than usual. Everyone else seems to be bundled against the coming storm, coming in to warm themselves with a post-work coffee or tea. There are only a handful of open seats in the whole store. The man must have assumed you're alone, especially as the rest of the book club is sitting at the low tables or armchairs a few feet away.

He's still looking at you, and you startle to realize he's waiting on a response, so you stammer out, "Er, sure, yeah," shifting your cup a little closer and turning back to your book again. The man is quiet for a few minutes, sipping his own cup, but you can feel him looking over at you. Maybe you leave book club early tonight. You're silently cursing Mable for being out of town.

You're startled when the rich baritone next to you asks, "What are you up to?" You drag your eyes from the page, terrified about having to interact with this stranger about your life when you see him nod his head to the book in your hands. "Lamb's one of my favorites, but I don't want to spoil anything. What's happening?"

You proceed to summarize the last chapter, and he's nodding along. "Yeah, how do you feel about Biff walking away?" Normally, you hate small talk, and the whole point of silent book club is to read what you want without interacting with others, but analyzing books and movies is one of your private passions, so if this handsome stranger is willing to give you an outlet for it for an afternoon, you're happy to take him up on it. You proceed to share your thoughts on Biff and his travels, what kind of reliable (or not) narrator he is, Moore's seemingly heretical treatment of Christianity. You ramble through your and his cups, ordering more when they're empty. You don't realize over an hour has slipped by until you catch sight of the clock on the wall.

"Gracious! I can't believe I've been talking with you, at you really, for so long. I'm so sorry," your words trip over themselves with your embarrassment. Your tablemate smiles and holds out a hand.

"Name's John," he says, shaking your meekly held hand as you proffer your name. You mumble your apologies again for taking up so much of his time. "It's been a delight hearing you talk about my favorite book. In fact, it's getting on supper. Care to join me, and I can share some of my thoughts?"

You hesitate for a moment before caving, the desire to talk about the book overriding your natural aversion to these kinds of interactions.

That first dinner with John leads to several book recommendations and an offer of more meals and discussions if you are interested. No one could have been more surprised than you when you take him up on those offers too. You look forward to dinners where you discuss the social satire of Pratchett's Guards! Guards! and whether Moore's Lamb or Winterson's Boating for Beginners is more blasphemous.

By the fifth dinner, John brings one of his team - he'd told you he was military - because the man is a huge Bradbury fan and hounded John as he read The Illustrated Man. You don't know what you make of Kyle at first, but he slips easily into conversations about the role of tattoos in modern society, showing you some of his.

Dinners and book discussions with John and Kyle slowly became afternoon cinema meetings with conversations on symbolism and allegory in the cafe after. The day before you're headed to the theater to see The Grand Budapest Hotel, John texts and asks if another of his team who's big into Anderson can come. You haven't seen too many Anderson films before, so hearing Johnny talk about shared themes between The Grand Budapest Hotel and Moonrise Kingdom and The Royal Tenenbaums is a delight.

By the time John invites you to the house his team shares, for the newest season of White Lotus, you're used to Kyle and Johnny. They've all talked about Simon, so meeting him seems more like greeting an old friend. You settle comfortably onto the couch with Kyle, Johnny on the floor near your knees, John and Simon in recliners, and watch the first two episodes. Over a meal of Indian take away, Simon points out the imagery repeating itself and how it contrasts from repeated imagery in the first and second seasons.

You find your time split between work, your hobbies, and John and his team. You still go to your silent book clubs, but now Kyle joins you if he's in town. It turns out the cafe also holds a monthly crochet group of mostly older mostly female customers who sit and swap advice as they work on their current projects. You're with them one evening as you're working on a beanie for Johnny who constantly complains his head is cold when you realize you've been spending time with John and his team for nearly a year.

Two days after your revelation, you're at John's for a viewing of Won't You Be My Neighbor. You open the door with the key John gave you months ago when he asked you to check on the place when they were away. You walk in to find the table set and food out, an odd occurrence as you usually eat after watching something. You call to the boys and hear thundering steps coming from the back of the house where you know the stairs to the second floor are.

"Coming, lass!" Johnny calls, practically skidding in to the room.

"Oh, er, here," you say, passing over the completed beanie. The weather's started to turn, and you want to make sure he'll have it when he needs it. His face shows his confusion for a moment, and you rush to tell him, "You're always saying it gets too cold and you don't have a hat so..."

He's opened it up and is tracing his fingers along the change of thread from forest green to black. "Ye...ye made this?" he asks. You can't read his reaction, and you worry you overstepped.

"Er, yeah. Just something to keep you warm." He's still running his fingers along the stitches, so you ramble on. "It's as close to MacTavish tartan colors as I could find. I think it fits as the yarn stretches--"

He embraces you so suddenly you don't know what to say. He brushes a kiss against your cheek, so quickly you could imagine it never happened, and whispers, "Ah love it. Thank you." By the time he pulls back, the others have come in, and John's putting a small vase of flowers on the table.

He looks over at you as he straightens up, and he must read the confusion in your eyes because he says, "You didn't think I'd miss a chance to celebrate our anniversary, did you?"

You splutter. "Ou- our anniversary?"

He grins, the same warm, welcoming grin he gave you the first day in the cafe. "Yes, doll. It's been a year since we met." You look away, embarrassed, and feel heat rush to your face as you realize he's talking about a year of friendship and not whatever you might have thought. "Come, sit," he cajoles. "Let's talk." He takes his seat at the head of the table. Simon sits across from him with Johnny and Kyle on one side, leaving the lone seat on the other side for you.

You're skittish, unsure of yourself with these men for the first time in a long time, but you take the seat left for you. If they can tell you're nervous, they don't act like it. You catch John smiling softly at you, which makes you bashful all over again. He passes you the plate of steaks, encouraging you to take a larger portion than you dole out for yourself. You ignore him, passing your plate to Simon, asking for a large portion of vegetables instead.

"Can' just eat rabbit food," Simon grumbles good naturedly, piling roasted carrots and Brussels sprouts next to the steak before passing your plate to Johnny, who puts a sizable scoop of white beans on it before handing it back to you. You roll your eyes at how much Johnny gave you, but you grace him with a smile nonetheless.

Everyone starts eating, talking to you about their job, sharing unclassified anecdotes from their last op, asking how your job is going. Johnny shows off the beanie you made, and the others compliment your talent. Kyle mentions, not subtly at all, that the den could do with another throw for cold nights, and finally your demeanor cracks. "It'll take a while, Kyle, but sure. I think I can do that." You offer him a small smile when he beams at you.

"I'm real glad John met ya, doll," Kyle says.

Your eyes drop from his face and million-dollar smile to your lap. "Me too," you say quietly. They know about your social battery, but you've never told them how it never feels drained after time spent in their company. You look around the table and say, slightly louder, "I'm glad to have met you all."

John reaches across the space between you and pats your hand. "I'm so happy to hear that, dove, because that makes this easier." He clears his throat, much like he did that first day, and says, "You've been in our lives for a long time, but what we've never told ya is that we aren't roommates." He trips a bit over that last word, and you think back to little moments, like how closely he sat next to Kyle when Kyle first started joining your dinners, the little touches Johnny and Kyle shared at the cafe after the cinema, the looks Simon would give John when everyone else was watching the telly. "We're together. All of us." His eyes never leave yours, and the room holds its collective breath.

"That's okay, John," you respond, smiling at the trust they're showing by telling you the full truth. "I think it's sweet." You flip your hand over under his and squeeze it gently. "Thank you for telling me."

Some of the tension of the last few moments dissipates, but you sense there's more when John grips your hand back. "That's not all." Simon shifts in his seat and Johnny is uncharacteristically still. "Er, we're together-"

"You already told me," you tease, trying to lessen the stress you hear in his words.

"I did," he says, "because I want you to know we talked about this, about you, as a group." He waits until you look at him. "We're together, and we'd all like you to be part of us, too." You stare at him for several long moments as the weight of what he's telling you settles in. "We love being with you, dove, and we want to be with you fully."

As it had when you met, the silence stretches almost into uncomfortable territory, but this time, you have an audience. An audience of men who have made you feel more welcomed and more loved than your friends and family tend to. Men who have become almost your whole world.

You find yourself nodding your head ever so slightly, ever so slowly.

"Is that a yes?" Kyle chokes out.

"Yes," you whisper, and when you see the relief on John's face and hear Johnny's whoop, you say it again, louder and more clear. "Yes. I want to be with you, all of you, too." You hear a sniffle to your left and look at Simon who mutters about allergies.

The first month of your relationship with them all consists of the same things you'd been doing, but now with kisses and cuddles. You snuggle into Simon's side on the couch watching telly or hold hands with Johnny walking back from the cinema. It takes less than six months before the men ask you to move in. Their house, like your cottage, is outside town in the rolling countryside, but that's where similarities end.

Their house is a sprawling home with massive front and back gardens they encourage you to plant your favorite flowers in. They add a fifth chair to the set in the back garden, overlooking a small pond, and you take to having breakfast and tea in the back with whomever wants to join you when the weather allows. While they all sleep in one room, on an Alberta King mattress big enough to fit them all comfortably, plus you when you eventually let things get more physical, the house has space enough that each of you has your own room. They turn the sunroom into a home office for you, giving you a view into the back gardens you like so much. You teach yourself to cook more elaborate dishes in their large kitchen, and when they're home, you make sure there's homecooked food on the table to sate their appetites.

Living with your men means having very few expenses of your own. They don't let you contribute any money towards utility bills. "We've been coverin' the bills since before you were here, dove," John says. "An' we're used to coverin' 'em even if we're all on a mission and the place sat empty. 'S nice to know there's always someone 'ere and we ain't payin' bills fer nothin'."

They don't let you pay for anything at the shops either, despite the fact that you set the grocery list because you now do most of the cooking. "Doll, everything you make is so good we wouldn't dream of makin' ya pay for your ingredients on top of it all. You can buy whatever you want as long as ya keep lettin' us eat it," Kyle tells you.

Even when you want something for yourself, they don't let you spend your money. "We dinnae treat oorselves much. Nae reason to spoil one another, really, but we love spoilin' ye. Ye wouldnae take that from us, hen, would ye?" Johnny asks, holding the new dress you were planning to buy just out of reach.

By the time you've been with them for a year, you've dramatically scaled back your work hours, picking up more freelance jobs so you can control how much time you're working. When your men are working from base, you want to be around and attentive. You want time to keep the house clean and try new recipes. When your men are gone on missions, you want to find new spots for walks or new films to watch when they return. You want to browse new books to share with them. You want to work on crafts for your men: a throw big enough to fit the massive bed, a scarf for Kyle, socks for Simon, gloves for John.

They constantly tell you you're their heart and their home, what they most look forward to coming back to at the end of the day. In the same way, they're your sun; you circle them, basking in the warmth of their love, letting it sustain and nurture you. They make your life fuller than you ever imagined other people could. And you wouldn't want it any other way.

main masterlist

[rgwriteshockey]

hiii could i do prompt 14. with luke hughes?? love your work btw <3333

is that my shirt w/ luke hughes ->

summary: luke finds y/n in his shirt

word count: 1.07k

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! hope you and everyone reading enjoys!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

y/n walked into the living room, stretching her arms above her head after a long day at work. the apartment was quiet, aside from the soft hum of the refrigerator in the corner and the faint sound of traffic outside. she kicked off her shoes, and without a second thought, grabbed the nearest oversized hoodie she could find to throw on. it was the comfiest thing she owned and made her feel at home instantly.

as she pulled it over her head, she noticed luke's hockey gear scattered across the floor — his skates, a couple of jerseys tossed carelessly onto the couch, and a tangle of socks. she made her way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, trying to avoid stepping on anything that could possibly be a sharp piece of his equipment.

that's when luke came out of the bedroom, fresh out of the shower, towel slung around his neck. his hair was still wet, droplets of water dripping down to his chest, making him look like he'd just walked out of a movie scene. he stopped in his tracks when he saw her.

"hey, what's up?" y/n asked, turning toward him with the glass in her hand.

"nothing much," luke said, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "just got back from practice. how was your day?"

"same old, same old," she shrugged, taking a sip of water.

then his eyes narrowed, and his gaze dropped lower. "wait a second..." he said, pointing at her with a grin spreading across his face. "is that my shirt?"

y/n froze, looking down at the oversized hoodie that engulfed her body. her heart sank a little as she glanced at him, playing it cool. "what, this?" she said innocently. "nah, it's just a random hoodie. found it in the laundry. comfy, right?"

luke took a few steps toward her, raising an eyebrow. "really? because last time i checked, i’m the only one who has a hoodie that big. and this one’s got my number on the back. number 6, in case you forgot."

she couldn’t help but smirk at the playful challenge in his voice. "oh," she said, "you mean our shirt?"

luke snorted at her response. "our shirt? that’s a bold claim. you’ve been stealing my stuff for months now. i think i should get something in return. like, maybe some dinner?" he said with a mischievous grin.

y/n rolled her eyes, setting her glass on the counter. "first of all, i don’t steal your stuff. i just borrow it. there’s a difference."

"oh, i see," luke said, tilting his head. "so, this isn’t stealing? because that looks like my hoodie to me."

"you gave it to me," she said, crossing her arms in mock defensiveness. "remember? a couple of months ago when you bought like five of the same one. you said, and i quote, 'y/n, you’re gonna need one for yourself, too. we’re gonna match.'"

luke blinked at her for a second, then his face softened with the memory. "right. i do remember that. i guess you’re right, it is our shirt, then," he admitted, walking toward her and wrapping an arm around her waist. "but still, i don’t think you need to wear it every day. i mean, come on, i need a little bit of my own space too, right?"

y/n laughed, leaning into him. "what, you're not happy i like wearing your clothes? thought it was cute when i wore your jersey to that game last week."

"it was cute," luke admitted with a smile. "but i’m starting to think you might be wearing it to get extra attention from me. maybe you're just trying to distract me so i don't notice how messy the apartment is."

"oh, please," y/n chuckled. "like you haven’t already noticed. you’ve been leaving your stuff around here for weeks now. it’s like you live in a sports store."

"hey, i need my things where i can see them," luke defended himself, his voice playful. "that’s the only way i’m gonna remember everything. otherwise, you know i’m gonna forget something important."

"i know," y/n smiled up at him, her eyes softening. "you’re hopeless. but i love you anyway."

"yeah?" luke raised an eyebrow again. "even after i leave my dirty socks everywhere?"

"especially then," she replied, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. "you're lucky you’re cute."

"lucky, huh?" luke chuckled. "i guess i'll take that as a compliment."

they stood there for a few moments, enjoying the quiet of their apartment and the simplicity of the moment. y/n pulled away from him gently, still with the oversized hoodie hanging off her shoulders. she was comfortable, more than comfortable, in his shirt, in his arms, in their life together.

"you know," she said after a beat, "i think you’re starting to get used to me taking your stuff. last week, you just shrugged when you saw me in one of your jerseys. you didn't even make a comment."

luke smirked. "i’m getting soft in my old age," he said. "besides, you wear it better than i do. i can’t complain when you look cute in my stuff."

"so now it’s a compliment?" she teased.

"definitely," he said with a wink. "i think i’ll get you more stuff soon, though. you’re starting to wear my wardrobe out faster than i can buy it."

"oh, please," y/n laughed, poking him in the side. "i’m not that bad."

"really?" luke raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "because i swear, i’ve seen you in all of my shirts in the past month. it's getting a little hard to tell them apart. you should start wearing your own stuff sometimes."

"my stuff is boring," y/n protested. "your stuff is so much better. i like it because it smells like you."

"that’s sweet," luke said, his expression softening. "but you know what? i’ll still buy you your own stuff if it means you’ll leave mine alone for a little while."

"oh, okay," y/n grinned, looking at him playfully. "but only if it’s our stuff."

"of course," he said, laughing. "you know i wouldn’t have it any other way."

as they stood there, together in the quiet apartment, y/n felt a sense of calm wash over her. sure, they bickered about the small things, like clothes and his messy habits, but those were the little things that made their relationship special. it wasn’t just about sharing a wardrobe or living together. it was about the moments that made them feel like home to each other.

"alright," y/n said, finally relenting. "you win. i’ll wear my own clothes more often. but i’m still wearing this shirt tonight."

"you do that," luke said, pulling her close once more. "i’ll just be over here, waiting for my dinner."

y/n grinned, leaning into his embrace. "deal."

they both stood there for a while, just enjoying the simplicity of being together. nothing big had to happen for them to feel like everything was right in the world. she was wearing his shirt — or their shirt, as she liked to call it — and that felt more than enough.

"you’re lucky you’re cute, Luke Hughes," y/n murmured into his chest.

"i know," he replied with a smirk, holding her a little tighter.

and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

[octoberautumnbox]

Orange-Tinted Sunset

Kiss of Life Belle & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of alcohol n bein drunk, technically not cheating but also sorta close enough idk u be the :jujj:

Word count: 2.6k

a/n: another prompt fic! based on kiof's Nothing i swear im on hiatus lmao but here it is! thanks to @mintwithchoco for prompt and hosting! as well as @sinswithpleasure for beta and @0cta9on for saying i was good at everything so i crode strove to prove em wrong lmao

~~~

The nightclub spun around you, the alcohol clouding your thinking and doubling your vision. A strange feeling set in–you really were a guppy in a small pond. Whatever roaring applause you got from the crowd after that impromptu karaoke bout was nothing compared to the girl that came next. You can’t even work up the energy to be mad; her voice is the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, flowing through the air and filling up every silence in the world, and it doesn’t help one bit that everyone else thought so too.

Her name, just her name. You wouldn't mind going home with nothing to show for the whole weekend as long as you knew what she was called–you have to know. Against every single ounce of common sense you have left, you walk up to her, calling in every favor from the universe you’ve saved up until this point. “H-hey,” you stumble, clearly more nervous than you should be. 

She turns around, and as her hair settles onto her back, she replies, “Oh, hi. Can I help you?” Her smile lights up your world, and you gain confidence and lose it again just as quickly. She’s gorgeous too, and how could you live with yourself if you fucked up with a girl like this again? 

And you realize you’re staring. “Hi,” you start again, “sorry, I, uhh, you killed it up there. Best I've heard in a while.” Pardon yourself for the understatement; she was exceptional. Stop yourself from saying more; she’s probably already heard everything you want to tell her. 

All she does is giggle in response, and you swear you’re face-to-face with a goddess. You slip, so just fall deeper and remember to blame the alcohol later on, “I mean it. You’re like nothing I’ve heard before. Can I ask for your name?” 

Her face sours almost imperceptibly, but your nerves don’t let you miss it. She holds back a grimace, but ultimately, she replies, “It’s Belle. Sorry, is that all? I have to go soon.” She shifts in her chair, no doubt trying to escape the situation, and it dawns on you you might look worse than you feel. 

“Y-yeah, that’s all. I actually wanted to buy you a drink, maybe. One musician to another. You were amazing.” Your voice holds together for the most part, but it doesn’t change her demeanor. 

“Thank you, it’s just…” she hesitates, breathing deep, “whatever this is, I don’t want to get involved. You’re nice, but I just… I can’t handle anything else right now.” The discomfort leaves her features as a quiet sadness replaces it. You’re no expert, but even a dunce like you could tell she was tired more than anything else. 

“No worries, I respect it. I’ll leave you alone.” It’s strange how you feel the lightheadedness drifting away and your senses coming back, almost like you’ve saved up quite a bit of good karma to ground yourself like this. Debatable, but you still have enough sense in you to offer, “Here’s my number, no hard feelings if you throw it away. I at least wanna buy you some nachos tonight as thanks for that gorgeous song. Good night, Belle,” before paying for them and ultimately heading for the door, above all trying in vain to forget about her. 

~~~

It’s familiar in two ways, being hungover at noon, sitting in a restaurant too fancy for what you’d ever typically be found dead in. On one hand, it reminds you of one of the best days of your life–your beloved sat across from you in a simple floral sundress while you shared a brunch of French toast and orange juice. 

“Thanks for coming out,” Belle said in a tiny voice, “I'm sorry about last night. I want to get to know you better.” She offers you a pancake, and once you accept she deposits it onto your plate, followed by a just-right helping of maple syrup. 

You try to avoid sounding humble, but there’s no other way to put it. “There's not much to know, really. I just came here on a whim. Needed to get away from it all, broaden my horizons. Us singers just gotta, you know? If I didn't, I'd never have found you.” 

“I hear you. I'm here to take a step back too. Things became too much to handle recently,” she relates as she takes careful bites of her cereal. For the first time since last night, you see each other's eyes, and a kindred spirit in you pulls on your heartstrings. It's an unspoken pain that's anything but obvious, and yet you see it in each other as clear as day. 

“Fucking exes, right?” the pair of you say in unison. A hearty laugh escapes both of you, and afterwards the pancakes slide down a bit easier. 

Belle calms herself first, “So you get how I was last night. I'm sorry, none of it was your fault.” You offer her a napkin and pour her another cup of ginseng tea, which she sips with an ethereal sort of grace once she finishes talking.

“Of course. I'm sorry too,” you sigh, picking at your scrambled eggs, “but at least we're recovering. I'm actually itching to write a new song once my hangover clears.”

“Me too, it’s just so freeing to let my feelings out onto songs. Plus all it costs is a pen and paper–much cheaper than therapy,” she agrees.

On the other hand…

~~~

“Blue palm trees?” she giggles. “What does that mean?”

The waves lap idly at your feet, scattering sand over your toes and hers. The calming ocean breeze washes over the both of you and weakly ruffles the paper she easily holds.

“It's called a hook, Belle. It captures the audience's attention, you should know this shit” you jab, drawing out more of her laughter. “Just let me be, okay? I'm the one with the pencil.”

She settles again, “Okay, okay, fine,” and sits back up straight. Another wave washes the sand away from the tops of your feet, dragging them back to the depths of the sea. In a split-second of feeling the grains slide off your skin and away with the water, you feel deep inside that maybe it'll be easier to walk again. 

“You know,” she starts gently, “this isn't too bad. I came here determined to grow stronger, but I don't feel any different–just more of what I was before. And weirdly…” Belle pauses, taking a short glance at you, meeting your eyes.

You can't help it; she's just that beautiful. The orange-tinted sunset behind her offers her a halo of warmth and sincerity, and it captivates your whole being to be able to spend a moment like this again, when the world is just right, especially with her. The waterline reaches up to your soles once more, tickling the both of you and sprinkling new grains between your toes before drawing back and taking the old away. 

“... Weirdly,” you continue for her, “I'm okay with that.” Your eyes never leave hers, and she stays, too. It takes a moment of serenity for you to finally let yourself think that this might be something more, that maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to stay with a girl like her. 

It takes a moment of serenity for you, but it seems like forever in an instant. Memories rush back like the ocean soaks the shoreline, swapping old sand with new, but you could never, can never, tell the difference. It's the same grains washing your feet, slipping between your toes, embedding themselves in your life so well that random moments like this bring you to the past when you least expect it. It reminds you of a history you'd give anything to forget: walking on a beach like this with a girl you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with–to an extent, you still do. How could you fuck up with a girl like that?

~~~

It's the worst gamble the both of you could take, and deep inside you knew there was no winning this. You felt it in your bones, from the beach to the elevator up until before you burst through her door with her, but the feeling is gone now, and for sure it’s gone for her too.  

“Mmm, just like that,” she whispers straight into your ear. You swear you’ve never tasted anything as sweet as the sweat on her neck, so much so that you never want your lips to leave her. She pulls you closer as if she could, maybe only decreasingly aware that her back was up against the wall and that even grains of sand couldn’t breathe in the space between you two. 

It takes no time at all, and you find yourself laid back and vulnerable on her mattress. Belle towers over you, straddling to keep you in place, as if you’d go anywhere. In a flash her shirt leaves her, then her shorts, and finally her underwear haphazardly thrown to the floor. Your own clothes follow even less ceremoniously, letting nothing get in the way of the woman of your dreams. 

“Fuck, that’s good…” she says as she lowers herself onto your length. You relish in the feeling of sliding into her, pushing her walls apart all the while lewd confessions spill from her lips. Your hands find her hips and you grip her tight, guiding her up and down as she bounces on your cock, “You’re so fucking tight, Belle…” while she places her hands on your chest to support herself as she takes you inside her over and over again, “I can’t get enough of you… I need you so bad…” losing yourself in her love. 

It’s the simplest thing to grab her wrists like this, to throw her onto the bed and fuck her yourself. She hits the mattress with a quiet thud, and without even a moment of respite you force everything into her again. 

“Gnnhhh, shit, it’s so good, you’re so good…” she gasps and grunts with every thrust like it knocks the air out of her each time. The bed creaks under the two of you: she tries to pull you close again, so you indulge her and meet her where she is to kiss. Amidst your tongues dancing in each other’s mouths, she moans like her life depends on it, “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes–” 

It’s the easiest thing to get lost in a girl like her. She’s perfect in every way you can think of–a smile to die for, a heart to protect, a body to worship. Each moment you bottom out in her, a spark goes off between your lips and hers, and it only pulls you in deeper, pulls you away farther from where you are. There’s nothing else to think about when you’re with a girl like this except her name and the way her body feels on yours. It’s so dreadfully incessant, unceasing in your head, that you thank your lucky stars you’re able to hold back most of your moans: Yuna, Yuna, Yuna, “Yuna…”

~~~

The sun blazes through the window and straight onto your eyelids, jolting you awake. The bed creaks as you bounce slightly on the mattress, your mind rushing to find your bearings, when right beside you, Belle stirs but then promptly falls back asleep. 

A grave sense of guilt overtakes you, clawing from the pit of your stomach all the way up to the back of your throat. There's nothing to say to her, nothing to do, and you know it. How could you fuck up with a girl like this? 

Your phone's alarm rings on a far-off table. Rush over to it, careful but quick so Belle doesn't wake. You knock over an ottoman in the process, but you're able to turn it off in time. Then it hits you: your flight leaves in a couple hours. There's no more time to think–gather your clothes and rush back to your own hotel. 

“Hour and a half,” you think, “more than enough time to repack and go.” Your door crashes open and you heave your suitcase onto the bed, haphazardly throwing everything you own back into it. The zipper disagrees with you for a moment until you finally bend it to your will, albeit threatening its life in the process.

The cabbie drives as fast as he can legally go for you, apparently already knowing the protocol, and people and buildings whizz past in a giant blur. He drops you off soon enough, and with only minutes to spare and the gate calling you over the intercom, you board your plane. The cold of the seat comforts you and calms your nerves, and once the hurried energy leaves your body, all that's left is fatigue that demands to be addressed. 

You scarcely notice the window beside you beyond pulling it shut. The cushions aren't as comfy as your bedding from the night before, but you can't attempt to complain in a state like this. You don't even feel your train of thought slipping away…

~~~

You’ve put it off long enough, the anxiety rending the lining of your stomach. In between your own calls and texts to Yuna you find yourself on the receiving end of the restlessness of your endlessly repeating ringtone and text notifications. You wait another few seconds to make sure she’s done, even tossing your phone onto your old bed to fetch a glass of water, before picking it back up and seeing the same number of messages. It's time. 

hey, where'd you go? Belle, 8:46 AM

it's a nice song, I'll send it over in a bit. call me? Belle, 8:50 AM

I'm at the restaurant again lol come on over Belle, 9:02 AM

you're really gonna make me miss you huh? hahaha Belle, 9:33 AM

*2 missed calls*

this isn't funny. pick up Belle, 10:14 AM

*2 missed calls*

you're serious? so last night was nothing to you? Belle, 11:15 AM

*1 missed call*

wow, what a fucking piece of shit you are Belle, 11:17 AM

*4 missed calls*

is it something i said?  Belle, 2:46 PM

let's just talk Belle, 3:30 PM

*2 missed calls*

just tell me what I did wrong please, I told you I can't handle this Belle, 3:37 PM

*8 missed calls*

don't do this to me Belle, 5:47 PM

*1 missed call*

fine asshole i don’t need you and fuck your song. Belle, 7:15 PM

don’t ever call me. Belle, 8:40 PM

The screen dims under your command. Your phone flies off into the folds of your bed once more, granting you your last moment of control. Belle finally stopped, and Yuna never made herself heard. At least one of you moved on.

You stand in your cold, empty bedroom, in the same dingy apartment you tried leaving behind. The same torn-up pages are scattered across the floor, the same stains on the carpet are there to step around, the same picture framed flipped down to hide the old photograph inside like grains of sand getting swept back up to you no matter how hard you try washing them away.

“It's another bottle tonight,” you decide in no time at all. Pull a cold one from the fridge, ignore the other bottles strewn across the room, take a seat at your desk. The lamp buzzes to life, and another sheet finds itself under your pen. 

They never meet. 

~~~

[luuvprincess]

ᏕIᗴᖇᖇᗩ'Ꮥ ᗷIᖇTᕼᗪᗩY ᔕᑭᗴᑕIᗩᒪ (2)

2 YEARS AGO

February 3, 2023

Everyone was having a good time enjoying the party just doing their own thing nobody was beefing or yelling. That was until Jashawn showed up 3 hours late to party already drunk.

"Damn babe you look good." Jashawn said as he grabbed Sierra hips causing her to let out a small hiss.

"Ouch Shawn." She groaned pushing him away as she turned around.

"Why you pushing me away baby I said you look good." He said as walked up on her.

"Thank you but you don't have grab me like that hurting me." She said. He looked down his eyes low, red as hell as he at her smiling.

"Can I get hug I miss you." He said as he pulled her in for a hug and she was able to smell everything. The weed, and who was wearing a cheap ass perfume.

"Are you serious? On my birthday?" She asked folding her arms looking at him.

"Mane whatchu talking about Sierra." Shawn says knowing exactly what she was talking about him and his homies went out on a 3 man like some weirdos.

"You can just leave Jashawn like why'd you bother to come if you was gonna fuck some bitch on my birthday before coming to see me then you could stay with her." Sierra said pointing to exit.

"Baby, you bugging it's your birthday chill out relax go have fun." He said.

"Yeah I'm have fun ight, you can fucking leave I'm done with your ass for real you crossed the fucking line." Sierra says as she turns on her heels walking away not getting far when Jashawn grabbed her pulling her back. 

"Chill the fuck out you ain't done with nobody."  He said raising his voice. That had caught everyone around them attention.

"I am done so please leave and I'm not gonna asking again so get your hands off me and take your stupid ass on nigga." Sierra said pulling her arm out his grip and quickly walking away before he say anything to her or grab her again.

Dakota and Imani following her to the exit. She need some fresh air they walked to the parking lot of the club.

"Hey boo you okay?" Dakota asked.

"No, I'm not, im done with his bs for real this time I am not going back to that nigga." She said as cried her eyes out. They both hugged her allowing to cry in their arms.

"It's okay girl fuck that nigga you don't need him." Imani said as they pulled away. She helped Sierra wipe her tears.

"Exactly girl that nigga ain't shit just move on to next it's your day don't let his drunk ass ruin it." Dakota says.

Before she could say anything. Shawn and his boys walked out the club of course being obnoxiously loud. Shawn friend pointed the girls out in the parking lot so they walked over.

"Uh uhn get the fuck back Jashawn walk away." Dakota said as she seen him walking up to her. Sierra turned around looking at him.

"I'm sorry baby." He said as looked at her.

"Nigga you ain't sorry go on somewhere with that bullshit, you lucky Boodah ain't here to beat your fucking ass we should fucking calling his crazy ass." Imani said.

"Don't nobody worried about that nigga." Shawn said sucking his teeth.

"You should cuz once he find out what you did to his baby sister you better pray he don't see you in public." Imani said.

"He nothing but a bum."

Dakota walked up to Shawn smacking the fuck out of him. "You better watch how you speak about my husband because if anyone a fucking bum it's your ass." She said then turned around walking back to the girls and they walked away.

Present Time

February 3rd, 2025

Sierra day hadn't even started when she woke up and Joshua was in between her legs eating her sweet honey pot. She let a soft moan running her fingers through his mullet moaning his name as her back arched off the bed.

"Cum for me princess, I'm right here." Joshua says sending vibrations up her spine. 

"J-Jeyyy fuck baby." She moaned.

"Mmm cum for daddy mama." He says.

"Mmm shit daddy I'm coming." She tells him as she throws her head back. "Daddy I'm so closeee keep going."

Jey licking and sucking on her sensitive clit swirling his tongue. He plugged his fingers in her wet core his fingers hitting g-spot as he thrust them in and out her.

"FUCKK JOSHHHH BABY!" She moaned out as she unexpectedly squirted wetting Josh's beard and the bed sheets. Josh not stopping picking up his paste with fingers as he buried his face more into her sweet honey pot.

"Yeah baby scream my name let everybody hear who's eating your shit good." He said sending more vibrations up her spine causing her squirt again.

"Ohh fuckk Joshuaaa pleaseee babyyy make me cum I'm closeee." She moaned. He didn't plan on stopping until she did cum. He looked up her looking her dead in her eyes as he ate her out, she was edge of her climax and he knew she was too.

She let out a piercing scream as her climax took over. Her toes curled and her legs that rested on Joshua shoulders shaked as her honey dripped off Josh's beard. He continued to eat her out as she came.

"Josh ba-fuckkk daddyyy pleaseee." She begged as she squirted again he pulled his fingers out pulling slapped her pussy lips as he went back down again. "Joshuaaa." She moaned pushing his head away, but he faught back kissing her honey pot and up her body to her lips she could taste herself on his tongue as he tongue her down his hand around her throat with a small grip.

"Mmm Happy Birthday Pretty girl."  He said after pulling away looking down at her as she smiled.

"Thank you Big daddy." She said. He picked her up carrying her to bathroom, he sat her on the bathroom counter.

"We ain't done just yet baby." He said. "Whatchu wanna do mama you pick." He said as began pulling his shorts and boxers down. She bite down on her bottom lip as she jumped off the counter and turning around leaning on the counter.

They looked at each other through the mirror Josh walked up behind her grabbing her waist as he pulled her panties to her ankles he kissed up her inner thigh kissing her pussy lips he then stood up grabbing himself as he teased her wet folds with his tip rubbing it up and down her slit.

"Fuck baby you so wet." He growled as he pushed just the tip in then pulled back out. "Fuck girl." He groaned as pushed his full length in.

"Fuck yes daddy you feel so good in this pussy." She moaned. Jey began moving his hips the room began to fill up with the sound of their skin slapping, their moans and goans and all their little slutty comments towards each other.

"Shit baby you so warm, fuck I already wanna bust in this pussy." He groaned smacking her ass. All she could do was moan as she struggling to speak.

"Da-d-daddy."

"You so fucking pretty taking my dick baby."

Her mouth opened wide but nothing came not sound. He was really fucking her speechless. Her walls clutched around him causing him to let out rough moan.

"Throw that ass back for me baby." Josh said slapping her ass. She began throwing it back matching his rhythm. "Shit baby fuck."

"Ooouu daddy right there!!." She said feeling his tip hit her g-spot. He picked her leg up putting it over the counter hitting it for a new angle which drove her insane. "FUCK!" She yelled.

"Mhmm baby take this dick, this your shit." Josh said he kissed her neck as she moaned his name. His hand wrapped around her throat. "You hear me baby?" He asked.

"Yes daddy it's my dick." She cried as her nails dug into his skin. He didn't care as always she leave all marks she wanted and he wanted everyone to know he was hers.

"I love you baby you hear me." He said.

"I-fuckk Josh I love you fuck baby I'm coming." 

"Yeah mama that pretty pussy finna cum? You finna cum all over this dick?" He asked.

"Yes da-FUCK DADDY!" She screamed as her climax began taking over she squirted again for the 4th this morning all over the floor she milked his dick with her juice.

Joshua continues his strokes chasing his own nut. He cursed under his breath his eyes shut tight as his head fell back.

"Where you want birthday girl?" He asked. She didn't answer instead she pushed him away getting low in front of him grabbing his dick she kissed his tip sucking all her juice off him.

"Right here daddy nut on my pretty face." She said as jerked her small hands up and down on his shaft sending him over the edge as his balls tighten as he nutted all over her hands and face a smirked appeared on her face as she looked up at him licking his nut off her lips. "Taste so good daddy."

"You so fucking nasty pretty girl." He said as she stood up. 

"Only for you daddy." She said.

"Mhmm better be only for me." He said. She rolled her eyes playfully as she turned around grabbing her a face cloth and turned the water on as she then wiped her face.

"Thank you for the birthday gifts." She said.

"Anytime little mama, but I need you be ready in a hour we got a lot to do before tonight's show." He said.

"What do you have planned sir?" She asked.

"Just get ready ight trust me." He said taking the cloth out her hand and finishing wiping her face. "Cmon let's go shower babygirl." He said.

Sierra

"You look adorable Cece." Trinity says to me as I walked up into gorilla.  "Happy birthday my love."

"Thank you." I said as we hugged.

"So how was your morning?" Trinity asked with a smirk. "You get put in that uso penitentiary?"

"Did I? Girl yes I woke up he was mmm no I can't get into that with you here but you should know."  I said giving her that look.

"You gotta give details later." She said.

"You know I got you girl." I said nodding my head.

"What yall over talking and giggling about?" Jimmy asked as he walked up to us. Jey segment was about to start in just about 2 mins. "Happy birthday sis."

"Thanks Jim and none of your business just girl talk." I said.

"I heard something about the uso penitentiary so it gotta be about me twin." He says.

"Hush my man on tv." I said putting my hand in his face as Jey's theme song began playing.  "He looking real good and he knows he does."

"Eww he don't look at good as me." Jimmy says.

"Boy I ain't interested in you so it doesn't matter." I said.

"Period." Trinity said.

"Whatchu ov-Jon be quiet my man giving his speech." I said cutting him off.

"He gotta whoop his ass wrestlemania." I said after the segment came to a end. Jey then came from behind the curtains. "Ohh babe I'm so proud of you." I said as jumped on him he caught me kissing me.

"Thank you mamas. You ready to celebrate your birthday?" He asked.

"Yes daddy." I said.

"Aye man chill out or your ass ain't gonna be walking."  He said threatening me with a good time.

"I mean I don't mind starting right now." I said. He rised his eyebrow smirking.

"Girl let's go you tripping little mama." He said picking up under my thighs. He carried me to his locker room.

"Alright see later too shoot with yall horny asses!" Jimmy yelled as we turned the corner.

"Jonathan imma whoop ya ass when I see you again!" I yelled back. Jey laughed kissing my cheek. We walked into his locker room. He puts me down walking over to his bag packing it up.

We head back to the hotel, we tool a "quick" shower together. Then got dress kinda matching.

Joshua surprised me by flying my best friends out, so I was even more happy that I was able to spend my birthday with them.

As the guys were sitting in our section while me and the girls were over at the bar taking a few shoots catching with each other this was Trinity's and Imani's first time meeting in person.

"Excuse me Miss the young man down at the end of the bar order you this drink." The bartender says.

"Oh no thank you I don't take drinks from strangers." I said kindly declining the drink.

"Okay I'll let him know." The bartender says. Then a few minutes later pass and the guy that bought the drink came up to us.

"Why you declined my drink that was a little rude?" He asked.

"Because I don't take drinks from strangers, it little rude of you to just walk up here like I know your ass so you can leave now." I said.

He stood there looking at me like I had four heads. I looked at the girls the make sure I wasn't tripping.

"Did she stutter or do you not understand English?" Dakota asked him. But before he could speak someone interpreted him.

"Aye man move along she said, ain't want you cheap ass drink." Joshua said as Jonathan, Joseph, Jacob and Zilla stood behind him. He then looked at me nodding his head at me. "Y'all good mamas?" He asked me.

"Yeah baby we're good." I said smiling.

"Leave uce why you still standing here?" Jimmy asked as they all continued give the dude the death stare. The dude quickly moved along.

"Y'all are a hot mess." Trinity said.

"Ehh I think I kinda like, that was sexy daddy C'mere." I said reaching out to grab Joshua hand. I pulled him closer to me, grabbing his chin pulling him down for a kiss.

"Ahh shit thats that liquor kicking in." Imani says as she took another shoot. 

"I told you this dress what going to be a problem."  He said as he rubbed my ass. "C'mon we gonna sing happy birthday then we out of here."

"But why?" I asked pouting.

"Cuz I can't have you out here in this dress any longer he ain't the only one that's been looking at you im watching them all look at you like a piece of meat." He says.

"Baby pleaseee no." I whined. He sighed kissing my cheek.

"Fine but if I gotta come over here again we leaving." He said.

"Okay daddy, can I have a kiss please?" I asked. He leaned down kissing me.  "I Love you."

"I love your sexy ass too, but I ain't pla-ohh this my song!" I yelled cutting him off as Jucie by Big boogie started playing throughout the club.

"You gonna catch it or not jey?" Imani asked him as he stood there confused. Imani sucked her teeth getting she got behind me as I began a moving the to music getting in sync with beat. 

"DAMN GIRL!" I hear random yell. Imani and Jey switch places so I really started showing off. I could feel his hard print through his jeans. Dakota was recording for one angle and Imani was recording from another.

Eventually the song came to a end. I stood up straight Joshua held onto my hips not tryna let me go.

"You better have all this energy later when I'm fucking you into the mattress." He wisphered in my ear. I squeezed his print casing him a let out a low grunt then I decided what I wanted to do next.

"We'll be back y'all." I said as dragged Jey out the club the car which in back of club. Nobody was outside so pushed his back into the car getting low as pulled his jeans and boxers down revealing his large 3rd limb as precum dripped from the tip.

"Come on baby you playing with fire." He said. I grabbed him rubbing my thumb over his tip spreading the precum around his tip. I slowly brought him to my lips just teasing his tip.

"Baby for real stop playing before I bend your over." He demanded. I looked up at him through my lashes as slapped his veiny meat on my lips and tongue.

"Be patient daddy." I said then using my spit wet him a little as I then began jerking him off.

"Fuck." He groaned throwing his head back. His knuckles began turning white. I then shoved him my both bobbing head up down on his length. His tip hit the back of my throat causing me to the gang and choke.

"Mmm suck this dick pretty girl." He growled as he hand reached the back of my head. He began face fucking me and I allowed taking ever inch of him. He stopped his movement as I pulled away catching my breath a string of my salvia fell from his tip.

He grabbed his base smacking his dick on my face. I grabbed the back of his thighs as I began playing with his balls sucking on them moving my hands grabbing him as jerked him too.

"So fucking nasty mamas ain't you?" He asked me as our eyes stayed locked in with each other.

"Yes daddy I'm your nasty girl." I said as pulled away from his balls but continued to jerked him off his balls tighten as he about to reach his peak. "Gimme that nut big daddy I pleasee Daddy I want the fucking nut, I want it so bad." I begged.

"Fuck Sierra I'm finna bust baby." He moaned.

"C'mon daddy nut right on my face." I begged him.

"Oh my fucking god pretty girl I'm coming keeping going  put the shit in your mouth and swallow all of it let full that pretty mouth up." He said as he shoving his full length down my throat releasing his warm nut feeling him twitch in mouth as he slowly removed his dick he finished his nut on my face.

"Tasty so good daddy I love sucking this big dick."  I said.

"C'mere." He said as pulled me up to his level. He wiped my face sticking his fingers in my mouth I sucked the nut off his fingers tips swirling my tongue around them before he pulled them out. "I love your little nasty freaky ass." He said kissing me.

"Show me daddy fuck me right here." I changelled him. He smirked licking his lips.

"Ight get ya ass in the back seat and you better take everything inch don't run from shit." He said opening the back door. I climbed he got in after me he waisted no time pulling my panties to side and slide right in from behind as I was on four.

"Jeyyy." I whined pushing on his stomach.

"What I just say? Don't run." He said as he began as giving powerful strokes leaving me a moaning mess.

Tag list 🏷️💗: @uceyliyahh @mselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom @isabella-2025 @4milly @zillasvilla @charmed-dreamssss @sheaabuttaababyy @levissslutt

A/n: Heyy sorry this took so long I was actually just waiting for wrestlemania week to start so that's why I did little spin off for Sierra birthday sorry it took so long now that Bae is the new World heavyweight champion we gonna continue with Chapter Nine so stay tone got couple of things coming 😌💗

[6ix9inewiturmom]

can we? - Christopher Sturniolo

Summary: in which chris and you broke up but remained friends with benefits, but had a little scare..

Warnings: cursing, Chris x fem!reader, mentions of sex, drinking, break ups, and pregnancy.

A/N: HIIIIII, so i know a while ago someone asked if i could do my other fic where they get a positive pregnancy test instead of negative, but with a little twist :) i hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for the love i’ve received, i know i said i was back but im locking in chat :)

Chris and I had a weird relationship from the get-go, meeting on Tinder had a lot to do with that. Growing up I was never shown what real love was supposed to be, so I ended up always being with the wrong guys, unfortunately, I thought it would never have an impact on me, which to my surprise, it did. Opening up and love was always scary for me, when I met Chris, I was vulnerable, hopeless, and just broken, I wasn’t looking for anything serious when we met I was honestly just looking for friends with benefits. The universe played a big role in all that because I ended up falling in love with him. Unfortunately, because I was hurting from my unresolved childhood trauma and some other things mixed in the loop, I ended up screwing things up with Chris after 3 years we aren’t together, but considering he was a big chunk of my life and we were each other first everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, I taught that man how to fuck like a GOD, we both decided to remain friends and fuck buddies.

Occasionally Chris and I would spend the night with each other and chill together as friends, tonight happened to be one of those nights, Nick and Matt both learned not to ask too many questions about Chris and me or our situationship we had and my roommate, Bella, knew the same. Chris had finished filming a video and invited me over for the night to watch one of the new episodes of Baddies, which he knew was one of my favorite things to watch weekly, of course knowing us, we couldn’t even make it through the first 20 minutes before my clothes were off and he was balls deep in me. We both lay naked in his freshly clean sheets, bodies intertwined, his hand brushing through my hair, weirdly invested in the show. “wait so Chrisean isn’t on Baddies anymore? But her sister is? Where is Chrisean? She was my favorite crash out and she knew how to throw hands” he expresses.

“Okay so you know Chrisean and Blueface were together? Well, she had a baby and stuff so she’s got priorities now” I slightly laugh out.

“oh yeah speaking of babies, have you gotten your period yet? I know you’ve been on that birth control and I know we haven’t been practicing safe sex whatsoever” he says slightly leaning over to look at me as my eyes widen and my heart drops to my stomach. Shit. When Chris and I ended things I wasn’t the most responsible with my birth control and I wasn’t taking it as directed, I quickly shot up.

“fuck, Chris, do you still have that spare pregnancy test in your dresser? cause the box only had 2 and we’ve used 1 prior” I run my fingers through my hair resting my hands on my head.

“Y/N, chill your on birth control right? like isn’t the whole point of it is that you can get endlessly creampied and not worry about babies?” he rubs my warm back slightly

“Chris, so I may have mentioned this sooner but after we ended things I wasn’t very responsible about taking them… I would miss a couple of days here and there and then go to work and forget about them and” I sigh “fuck!” I slightly shout.

Chris gets up walks to the bedside table pulls out the test still wrapped in the blue wrapper and gives me a slight smile.

“oh thank fuck” I say snatching the test out of his hand running to the bathroom quickly and ripping the stick out of the plastic “AND IT’S THE DIGITAL ONE!” I squeal.

“so the one we don’t have to put a light on to read it?” he laughs pushing up his sweatpants where they hang onto his lower hips perfectly giving a view of his v-line and leaning against the frame of the door.

after peeing on the stick I stand up put the cap on it place it upside down, and look at Chris nervously. “do you mind throwing me something to wear? I’m feeling a little underdressed for the occasion” I joke.

Chris reached over to throw me something off his dresser, of course, it was his new unreleased sweat set from his brand. “you’ve always looked hot in my clothes” he smiled.

We both knew we weren’t together, we knew we shouldn’t be hanging out like this, and we knew we acted like we were. I mean he would pick me up at work to take me to lunch, drive me to and from work from time to time, and even kiss me before parting ways. We weren’t together but if anyone would look on the outside, they’d think we were. We weren’t together but could be having a baby? What would that make us? Where would we live? What would we do? What about his career? I sent myself down a spiral of thoughts while throwing on the clothes he gave me to wear.

“…what if we used my mom's name and like.. Y/N? Did you hear me?” he asked, clearly snapping me out of a trance of thoughts.

“oh um yeah, I heard you,” I say clearing my throat.

“Y/N, be for real, I can read you like the back of my hand, what’s going on in that cranium of yours?” he laughs walking closer to me and guiding me to sit on the floor with him.

“We aren’t together Chris... I could be pregnant” I sigh looking down and playing with my bracelet.

“so?” he laughs out “we’ll get a place together, maybe a cute little apartment, and raise a baby together” he places his hand on mine calming down any nerves i once had just with a simple touch.

“yeah I know but, what does that mean for us? Like are we gonna be roommates with a fucking baby? is our baby gonna grow up with two parents who live together and just aren’t together but they act like they are because they’re good at being troubled together? Like that’s no way to raise a baby Chris” my voice cracked.

“well, negative Nancy,” he laughed out “I was just thinking maybe if you are pregnant we could have 9 months to figure out shit within ourselves and make us, BETTER. Mom used to always tell us that if we wanted to make something work if one way didn’t work out the way we wanted, we tried something new, our last relationship didn’t work, so what if we changed something about it? but only if you're open to that” he says calmly. One thing I’ve always loved about Chris is that no matter how negative the situation was he was always the one who could turn a dark situation into something positive and always see the light in the end.

“Can we?” I look up at his blue eyes with a slight smile and small tears in my eyes.

“absolutely” he smiled back.

I sighed leaning my body weight against his “Would it be a bad thing if I was disappointed if the test is negative?”

“it’d be cool as shit to have a baby, I mean everyone we know has babies, well almost. Tara is Tara so she’s like our only friend who doesn’t as of right now, plus this is something we’ve always talked about” he smiled rubbing my shoulder with his hand.

The silence in the room wasn’t deafening, but it was comfort and warmth. I’ve always felt safe with him. I couldn’t imagine being in this situation with anyone else but him. I mean we’ve had baby names picked out since we first started dating. It’s something we both knew we wanted. MaryLou always wanted us to have babies, Nick and Matt just told us they didn’t want to be uncles at like 19, but they both would be happy regardless. I know Nick would wanna spoil the shit out of their niece or nephew.

“should we check?” chris breaks the silence.

I sigh very nervous but ready to face whatever it may be, “fuck it, let’s check” We both stood up, and he held my hand as I lifted the test and turned it towards us.

Pregnant

“oh shit,” my jaw dropped.

“oh…my…god” a small smile creeped through his lips. “Y/N?” he asked as my jaw was still on the floor with the test in my hand.

“I-I-I’m- I mean we- are, pregnant..” I stuttered dropping the test.

Chris saw this as an opportunity wrapped his arms around my waist gently, and hugged me. “you’re gonna be the best mother in the world, I know it, and I’ve always known that” he whispered.

my eyes watered as I wrapped my arms around his neck listening to his words. “you’re gonna be a dad” I laughed through my tears of joy.

“wait” he pulled away “does that mean you can’t call me daddy anymore? I mean I know you only do it when you’re super fucked up and drunk but like, I kinda enjoy it” It smiles slightly.

“chris!” I slap his arm softly.

“too soon?” he chuckled softly.

he grabbed me again carrying me gently to his bed and laying me down before plopping on the bed laying between my legs, holding my belly kissing it, and softly speaking “Can this thing hear me yet?” he looked up at me through his lashes.

“no I don’t think so, and that ‘thing’ is a baby Chris” I laughed softly.

“you know what I meant” he laughed before kissing my belly again and lying next to me.

“so when do we tell everyone? Like what do you wanna tell them? Like are we gonna make a cute box for everyone? Or like what? I have ideas on Pinterest and everything” I smiled softly looking over at him with his gaze focused on my stomach.

“Why don’t we worry about that a little later, as of right now, let’s keep this between us until we can get you to the doctor and get those cute black and white pictures of the little bean then we can decide” he kissed my forehead and leaned back patting his chest, signaling me to lay down on his chest, of course I obeyed and laid my head down on his chest as he wrapped his arm around my waist rubbing up and down on my waist.

Over the last couple of months, we’ve officially been broken up. My mind has been a mess, but for the first time, it felt calm and easy. I finally experienced a sense of quiet and peace in the world. It was just Chris, our little bean, and me. No one else knew, but it was perfect.

A/N pt 2: AHHHH CALL THE CHIROPRACTOR CAUSE IM BACK BITCHES!!! i hope yall enjoyed this fr fr, i love yall so much :)

[zbis]

matthew + choking - no explicit smut but still minors dni

today you and all of his friends had been hanging out casually at the dorms. it was all going great until one of them decided it was a good idea to start flirting with you. boredom leads to interesting scenarios between men, you figure. of course, it was playful because they all knew how matthew could be but it was mainly for fun and games and to get a reaction out of their friend.

"matthew's girlfriend looks really pretty today!" jiwoong had pointed out. a simple tongue poke through the cheek was enough to let you know that matthew was getting irritated already. his bright eyes had turned dark and you could tell his whole demeanor had changed just by the comment alone.

you bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from bursting out laughing because of how obvious he could be. just to rile him up because you were bored out of your mind, you decided to play along with the group's antics. a little poking fun wouldn't hurt, plus you could tell matthew had been pent up and stressed so why not lighten the mood?

matthew was definitely not happy to entertain this, not realizing that it was just a sudden ploy to get him angry on purpose. the guys liked to joke that he was just too easy to mess around with. he truly took everything to heart.

"thank you jiwoong," you blink at him flirtatiously. somewhere in the room, you hear matthew huff but you block it out of your mind. a part of you wanted to see how far this could go but a part of you knew this was a bad idea.

"can you guys not do that," matthew mumbles under his breath. he tries to pull you closer to him but you don't appreciate the force he's using so you resist.

"do what," you raise your eyebrows at him and pout. you use this chance to lean your head on gyuvin's shoulder, who was sitting nearest to you. "are they not allowed to compliment me?" you egg him on.

gyuvin laughs nervously at the way the older boy glares at him. he must not have been in the mood to feel matthew's wrath, you'd have to remember to apologize to the poor boy later.

"you know what you're doing.." matthew grunts, attempting once more to move you closer to his embrace. his arm muscles bulge every time he pulls you away from gyuvin and you appreciate it for a moment because damn, he has been working out. "im not doing anything. don't pull me so hard" you protest.

in your subtle struggle to stop him from pulling you close you don't notice how your skirt rides up and almost flashes some of the boys. most of them look away, thankfully. "y/n what's up with you??" matthew questions.

"im not doing anything wrong," you defend. "not doing anything wrong?" matthew's frustration with you starts to flare up when you say that. he huffs and stands up, almost knocking down the glasses on the table. everyone glances at him and then at you because they know what comes next.

"my room, now" he frowns at you. he walks off without waiting for you and you know you should probably not make him more upset than he already is. ricky makes a suggestive gesture in the corner of the room and you throw him a playful glare. hanbin shakes his head at you, whispering a "you're in for it".

once you get to matthew's room you see him sitting on his bed with his arms crossed. "fuck he looks so g-"

"the fuck is wrong with you?" "oh"

"nothing," you mutter. he sighs, running his hands down his face. suddenly a small part of you feels guilty. "do you enjoy making me upset y/n?"

when he repositions his arms, you shamelssly stare at them. the veins on his arms and hands are angerily popping out and you want nothing more than for him to-

"my goddamn eyes are up here"

you swallow hard, embarrassed at being caught. "i was just mesing around, its not a big deal, you're just....unbearable.

"im unbearable?!" matthew scoffs. "not with how you're being a slut around my friends every 2 seconds," he rolls his eyes.

you fold your arms across your chest but find yourself biting back a smile once again. when matthew had so gracefully yanked you off the couch, the sadistic part of you sort of hoped he would put you in your place right then and there somehow.

"no you're just possessive as fuck," you mumble. there it was. the word matthew hated the most. he stands up from the bed and takes long strides to where you stand. you back up but find that you're already up against the door. he wraps his veiny cold hands around your neck and you can feel his equally cool jewelry grazing your skin.

you gasp and grasp at his hand. "possessive?" he ponders on the word for a moment, kind of liking how it sounds for a second. "hell yeah i am" he grip around your neck tightens.

"m-matthew" you whine. you don't want to but you subconsciously rub your thighs together. this doesn't go unnoticed by him either as he rolls his eyes, realizing your motives.

"i can show you just how possessive i can be"

[cherryredstars]

OKAY OKAY but IMAGINE

A reader who owns a cafe and this grumpy ahh Miguel always orders one specific item which usually no one buys. Reader notices the small details about this regular guy cuz well it’s MIGUEL reader has a tint crush.

One day spiderman saves the reader from thieves or something. Basically he ends up in her cafe and as a thank you the reader offers food and he just sighs instinctively picking the same dessert and muscle memory doing a trick.

Basically WHAT IM SAYING IS imagine the reader next time Miguel orders at their cafe puts a lil spider themed candy

They somehow signal him that: HAHA I KNOW WHO YOU ARE GRUMPY >:3

(Using >:3 to tell you the reader has chaotic energy.)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of Attempted Mugging

Summary: It simply can’t be a coincidence.

Word Count: 1.2K (Not Edited)

There’s something mysterious about that man. 

Yes, it may have to do something with his gigantic size and almost too wide shoulders. Or the fact he always looks like he’s a second away from shoving the next person out of the way. Oh and how can you forget the part where he has only said the same seven words to you since he’s been here. Medium coffee, black. Add one of those. Then he proceeds to point at the display at the one pastry you can never sell out. No thank you’s, please’s, how are you’s. He quite literally only says those seven words and then grunts at any of your questions. He’s only ever said one extra word to you, which was his name the first time he visited because he paid in cash.

Honestly, you find him very intimidating. He’s the only reason that non-selling pastry is still available. Usually, you’d have it removed and replaced with another item. But you absolutely dread the idea of him being pissed at you for removing the only other item he gets daily. Plus, you don’t want your existence to be reduced to three words. So, it’s here to stay. You just make it in the smallest batch possible and then give the extras, along with other leftover pastries, to the local soup kitchen to give out the next day. Even then, you’re pretty sure they end up throwing away the pastry at the end of the day since no one wanted it. 

Nonetheless, it’s only right to give back to the community around you. No matter what gets eaten or not. At least they get the choice to decide if they want to try it. It’s better than throwing out all the food when you know there are people who could need it. Mondays are always the busiest days, so you make sure to make a little extra pastries and food to be able to give a pleasing amount to the kitchen. As you stuff the last of the remaining pastries into the box, you close it up and stack it on top of the first box. You pull on the handles of the bag under everything, having them securely supported for easy carry. You grab your canvas bag from the backroom, checking your prep in the fridges and freezers one last time before getting ready to leave. You grab the bag of pastries as you make your way to the back door, once again thankful that you don’t have to lock it since it’s not accessible from the outside. 

As you begin to walk down the small stone steps and out of the small indent on the street, something behind you rattles. You jump slightly, hand tightening on the bag as you turn around quickly. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as you squint into the darkness, trying to spot something. You slightly relax as nothing seems out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was a stray cat or even a mouse. The thought makes you scrunch up your nose and you begin to turn around again so you can make it to the shelter before it closes its doors for the night. 

You instantly scream as you come faced to face with a man in a ski mask. He instantly covers your mouth, pushing you against the back door. You almost trip as you’re forced to walk up the steps and your body tenses as it hits the door. You feel something cold and metallic against your side, eyes widening as you attempt to look down. It’s hard with his hand covering part of your face and it takes him shaking you and slightly banging your head against the door to realize he’s speaking to you about money and jewelry. You can feel your hands trembling, tears welling up. You almost want to sob and yell when you notice another figure approaching behind the man. 

Oh how perfect, there’s two.

But you’re surprised when the figure grabs the man’s shoulder, revealing the almost shiny blue and red of a familiar costume. The man is quickly yanked off of you, and you take a sharp inhale now that your mouth is uncovered. You watch the commotion with wide eyes as the figure- as Spiderman- quickly disarms the mugger and pulls out makeshift handcuffs. The man struggles in them as he sits at the hero’s feet. Spiderman makes no notice to him, instead focusing on a floating screen as he reports the incident via an anonymous tip for the police station. 

You’re still struggling to wrap your mind around what just happened when the Spider turns to you, “You okay?”

You blink rapidly, nodding almost numbly, “Uh, yeah… I think. Thank you.”

He gives you a grunt and if you had a clearer mind, you might have recognized it. As the hero turns to leave you call out. He lets out another grunt of displeasure, but you pay little attention to it as you set the pastry bag down and pull out the box from the top. 

“Take one. They’re leftovers from today, but they’re still good. Consider it my thank you.”

You open the box and peer inside of it as you present it to him. It’s full of small sandwiches, a few different flavors of bread slices, and in the corner there are few of Miguel’s usual pastries. You expect the spider to go for one of the sandwiches, but your eyes widen as he takes three of Miguel’s pastry. You stare at the spot they had been in the box before staring at the hero. There is simply no way.

Your eyes study the hero, taking in his build for the first time. Enormous height and wide shoulders. Same posture and same pastry. Surely, it couldn’t be a simple coincidence. You slowly close the box, holding the sides of it tightly as the hero starts to deport. You stare after him in astonishment, even as the sound of police cars start sounding and two officers rush into the alley to find the tied up mugger and you. 

There is simply no way.

You show up early the next day to the bakery. You take care making everything, letting them cool slightly before putting them in the display cases. Once the doors open, the usual morning rush spews in, and you spend the next two to three hours serving customers. As per usual, he comes right as the morning rush ends, and you feel a giddiness as he walks up to the counter. 

“Medium coffee, black. Add one of th-” You smile widely when he pauses.

His eyes are trained to his pastry. Today it looks different. In the center of the flakey dough there is a cut out of a spider, revealing the filling inside. He squints at it, leaning his face closer to the glass to view it. When he looks up to you, he can see the knowing glint in your eyes and the teasing smirk on your face. He sighs, something between displeased and amused before he stands up straight again. 

“Add one of those.” He finishes his previous sentence, pulling out his card to pay. 

“Sure thing,” You smile, approving the transaction before turning around and getting started on his coffee. “...Spiderman.”

From the grunt behind you, you know he heard.

Join Cherry’s Discord Server

[bloodibambiidoll]

just read your new rafe x weird!reader and oml im obsessed with them 🫠

can we maybe see rafe finally proposing to her ?!

Thank you sm!! Ofc!! Sorry this took me so long, I’ve been plotting this moment for a minute… Mostly fluff 18+MNDI

“Rafeee” You whine, shuffling in the passenger seat of your boyfriend’s truck, the blindfold on your eyes obstructing your view entirely. You had no idea where he was taking you, he just told you ‘to put on something pretty and get your little ass in the car’. “Seriously, where are we going?”

“Hush. I told you to stop askin’, didn’t I?” Rafe’s large hand reaches out to grab your thigh, squeezing it. “Just be patient, aight? It’ll be worth the wait, promise.”

You throw your head back with a groan and it makes Rafe chuckle. His ever impatient girl. But he can’t be giving away in secrets no matter how cute you are when you pout. Not tonight. Tonight had to be perfect. He drove out here to this spot you’ve been begging him to take you before picking you up to set everything up and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit nervous. Which was out of character for him. Rafe Cameron doesn’t get nervous. But with you? It’s different. He pulls onto a dirt road before putting the car in park and when you reach for your blindfold he bats your hand away.

“I said no peaking, brat. Keep it on till I say.” Rafe cuts the engine and exits the car so he can come around to let you out. He offers you a hand down and guides you into his arms before leaning down and placing a kiss to your temple. “Can’t have you spoiling the surprise. C’mon.”

He drags you along and you can tell you’re walking through grass and dirt but other than that you’re clueless as to where you are. You keep stumbling every few steps and you hear Rafe playfully scoff before he’s lifting you in his arms and carrying you bridal style. He carries you to what you assume is his desired destination before setting you down gently on your feet again.

“Stay here. And keep that shit on, I mean it.” Rafe’s large finger taps the blindfold on your eyes before you hear some shuffling around. He approaches you again, this time standing behind you with his arms looped around your waist. “Okay, you can take it off now.”

When you pull the cloth from your eyes you can’t help but gasp. You’re standing in what looks like an abandoned mausoleum, surrounded by candles. There’s a blanket spread out with a bottle of wine and the vintage picnic basket you found at the thrift store last year. He even brought the Jack O’ Lanterns you carved together a few days ago and lit them up. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scene before you.

“Wow - Rafe, I - you did all this?” Your voice cracks and your lip wobbles. When you and Rafe met he wasn’t really a romantic guy at all and over time you’ve softened him up but he’s never done anything like this. “For me?”

“Yeah, baby, f’course. Who else?” He whispers in your ear and kisses down your throat and god you want to blow him right this instant. You grind your ass down against him and he laughs into your neck, his breath fanning against your skin only spurring you on. “Always so horny. C’mon, let’s eat first, lil succubus.”

You and Rafe are sitting on the blanket, enjoying the meal he definitely had the cook put together because there’s no way in hell he could ever cook something like this. You’ve been joking and laughing, sharing sweet kisses and dreams about the future. You look around you, smiling. This really is the best date you’ve ever been on. It’s so thoughtful and so you. Rafe has always taken the time to see you for who you are and that’s one of the things that made you fall in love with him. Tonight is no exception.

“Hey, that guy isn’t lit!” You point at the pumpkin directly in front of you and gasp dramatically. “How could you leave him in the dust like this!? You’re evilllll.”

Rafe smiles at you knowingly. You fell for his trap, hook, line, and sinker.

“Why don’t you light it then, baby?” He takes a lighter out of his pocket and hands it to you. You take it gleefully and crawl over to the pumpkin. Giving Rafe a delicious view of those red lace panties under those little tights you have on. He can’t wait to fucking rip them in half and shove his cock balls deep inside you.

He watches as you take the top off the pumpkin and look inside expecting to find a candle. But instead, there’s a little red velvet box sitting at the bottom of it. You turn back towards your boyfriend with a raised eyebrow and he tilts his head, encouraging you to go on. You reach inside and pull out the box, your hands shaking. Is this really what you think it is? Rafe gets you jewelry all the time, but he never makes such a show of it.

“Go on, princess, open it.” When you flip the lid of the box, your hand flies to your mouth and your eyes well up with tears.

“Rafe, I - what is this?“ you turn toward him and almost jump out of your skin because he’s directly behind you, still towering over you on one knee as you crouch on the ground holding the box with the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen in your life inside.

“Bats. I think you know what it is…” Rafe laughs and the sound is like music to your ears, you love his laugh. “I’ve loved you since… well, since you yelled at me in that cemetery and told me off, if I’m being honest. I’ve never met anyone like you, baby girl. And I’m not - you know I’m not the best with words but I wanna spend the rest of my life with your weird little ass. Marry me?”

“Are you serious!? Of fucking course I’ll marry you, idiot!!” You squeal and jump into him, throwing your arms around his neck as the tears in your eyes start to flow down your cheeks. You lean back and place a sweet, messy kiss on his lips as you practically crawl into his lap.

“Yeah? I’m really fuckin’ glad because if you said no I was going to have to lock you in the basement until you changed your mind…” Rafe smirks at you and you burst out laughing. He plucks the box from your hand so he can pull the beautiful, skull, pearl ring from it and slide it onto your dainty freshly manicured finger. He made sure you got a fresh set before this. He knows how you are.

“That’s fucking hot. Maybe we could do that sometime, just for fun?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and Rafe groans at the thought of you all helpless and tied up for him.

“Fuck. I might have to take you up on that, princess.” Rafe takes your face in his hands and looks down at you sweetly, making your insides melt. “But right now? I need you to bend the fuck over so I can show my future wife how much I fuckin’ love her…”

Taglist: @starkeysprincess @babygorewhore @strawberrydolly333 @sturnioloshacker @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @gri959 @rafeinterlude @nemesyaaa

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider is @strangergraphics

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

TRIGGER WARNING: PAST SUICIDAL IDEATION, attempts of physical abuse (throwing objects), basically reader's mother being a really horrible narcissistic abusive person.

[Please read while listening to this.]

Listen to that. The opening strains of that old Elvis classic began to swell; a hush fell over the assembled guests. All eyes were drawn to the dance floor where Sabrina now stood, radiant in her lovely gown, and Andrew looked at her with such veneration, as if she had hung the very moon in the sky. In the arms of her now-husband for their first dance as a married couple, the newlyweds shone brighter than the stars outside the manor.

Sabrina’s cheeks flushed rosier than any wine—joy, adoration, and yes, a little champagne too—had left her glowing in a way you’d never seen before this man came into her life, and your heart swelled with happiness for her.

When at last the song ended and they shared a lingering kiss, you joined the room in applause. Someone handed them a mic, and the two tried to pass the mic to each other until Sabrina was the first to give a speech. Andrew squeezed her hand, gave her an encouraging smile, and nodded.

Clearing her throat, Sabrina spoke into the mic. “Hi, everyone,” she began, voice ringing out sweet and clear through the speakers. “I just want to say thank you all for being here on this special day. Sharing it with my family and friends who mean so much to me has made it truly magical.” Another applause returned her gratitude before receding again when she was about to continue.

With misty eyes, Sabrina then turned to her step-father. “I want to thank Jim, for raising me as your own since I was little. You’ve always been the best dad a girl could ask for.”

Then, you watched her smile at her mother. “And Mom, where do I even begin? You've been my rock since day one. From keeping me sane while wedding planning to celebrating with me every step, you know I wouldn't be here without you. I wouldn't be the strong, independent woman I am today without you and Jim. I love you both so much.”

When Sabrina's parents—Jim and Joyce—approached her and gave the couple a big hug, another round of applause arose from the guests. But as Joyce placed a final kiss on Sabrina's cheek before stepping back, the world seemed to dim around you.

Suddenly, everything is so foreign—the image in front of you was never presented to you. Aunt Joyce looks genuinely happy for her daughter, and Sabrina hugs her like she cannot imagine life without her mother—which, at some point in your life, you did believe too. Mother’s words, “You won’t survive without me,” ring like angry bees.

Yet now, the thought of sharing a roof with her again feels unbearable.

Joyce and Sabrina look... uncomplicated, despite your mother's statements about how your aunt wasn't prepared for motherhood. And suddenly, everything feels numb, and you're disconnected.

In your reverie, you missed some of the speeches, only blinking back to reality when Sabrina and Andrew’s enthusiastic cheers echoed through the room. The crowd roared as the romantic notes of the new music played, “Until I Found You” inviting guests to join in the dancing.

As you do at the few parties you’ve been invited to in your entire life, you stay away from the dance floor and become a loyal wallflower. However, this time, with a companion—a better people-watcher than you, Simon. The man sweeps his brown irises around, examining people before one makes him chuckle under his mask.

“Look at that old man, still got it in ‘im, eh?” He commented, his tone tinged with amusement.

Your gaze trails Simon's. Among the dancing couples were your other uncle and aunt, their smiles highlighting the lines on their seventy-something faces, clearly having more life in them than many of the younger ones. You chuckled to yourself.

“Actually, that’s Uncle Mick and Aunt Sarah,” you reply, watching the old couple share a laugh amidst the music. “They’ve been married longer than I’ve been alive. Slow dancing is kind of their forte.”

More people-watching, but you fail to notice how often Simon steals glances at you between his own. And by the luminosity of your eyes, he is drawn like an insect in a blazing fire. His slow, "near-dying" heart has yet to realize the change in him. Simon plays on the edges of the rotting wood.

Straightening his gaze, he strikes up a question: “If that old bugger can still cut a rug, why ain’t the famous ballerina ‘avin’ a spin, eh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Simon’s gruff invitation, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest with a foreign carefree ring that you didn’t recognize. Meeting his eyes, you saw amusement there but also something that told you he was serious. Heart tiptoeing at the edges of your ribs, your fingers busying themselves with their own bustle.

Biting your lip, you gazed up at him through your lashes, feeling a smile curling the corners of your mouth. "I don't know," you shrugged your shoulders. “I might suck at slow dancing.”

Simon scoffed. “Absolute bollocks.”

At his disapproval, your smile widened, teeth peeking out from behind those pretty lips. You gazed up at him, searching for something intently.

Somehow in that moment, the noisy celebration around you seemed to fade into a blur, narrowing your world until it was just Simon standing before you. Your chest warmed, as if caressed by the sun on a lush spring day. Capillaries rushed, painting your bones pink. Pink.

Gathering your courage, you mimicked Simon's invitation. “Unless... you're willing to be the judge of that yourself?”

The question came out just above a whisper, heavy with promise. With your heart dangling at the tip of your throat, anticipation mixed with anxiety gnawed at you faster than any termite. Simon gave a subtle nod towards the dance floor with his chin.

“Come on then,” he rumbled.

As Simon led you, you couldn’t help but feel like Cinderella herself; this room made a fairytale for you. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist, pulling you close so your bodies swayed as one. You shyly wrapped your free hands around his neck.

The romantic music continues to flow, caressing your ears with the singer's warm voice, Stephen Sanchez, if your memory serves you right. The merciless thumping in your ribcage persists, and you wonder if Simon feels it, if he has his own version resonating in the hollow of his chest. Settling into a slow sway, you feel his shoulders relax.

“You’re not gonna turn into a swan on me now, are ya? Would be a right shame to ruin such a lovely dance.” Simon asked, tone lighthearted. After mentioning your upcoming ballet performance, he doesn’t slow down his series of jokes about it.

You threw your head back in laughter. “You know that’s not how the story goes.”

Simon's grin grew wide beneath his mask. Cocking a brow, he said, “Oh yeah? Enlighten me then, love.” He challenged.

Taking a deep breath that lifted the smile still on your face, you began the long story of Swan Lake—about what happened to Odette and her flock by the sparkling lake and mostly things you had memorized many times. "So when Siegfried finally learns the truth, it’s too late—Odette ends her life by jumping from a cliff.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he reacts, and you let out a girlish laugh. “That’s tragic.”

You shrug. “I always thought it was kind of romantic.” You giggle again—God, the way this man can make you giggle like a silly schoolgirl—when you see the reaction reflected in his eyes.

“You’re a right bloody psycho, you know that?”

You deadpanned. “I’m not a psycho.” Your tone was flat, trying to be serious but the stubborn grin that followed ruined it.

“She should’ve just gone for another bloke.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, she can’t. She’s been cursed to be a swan forever.”

“Then she should’ve just lived out ‘er days as a swan then,” he said with pragmatism, very much lacking the charm of a fairy tale with all those logics. “Should’ve chased that arse’ole prince all over kingdom for revenge instead. Give ‘im a good peckin’.”

You exhaled in exasperation, but your lips held back a smile. “Please just stop talking.”

Simon chuckled, and fortunately, for his own good, he did. The music was nearing its end, but you were still swaying. Something caught his gaze over your shoulder. He looked back at you, raising a brow to make a suggestion.

“Should we do a spin?” he asked.

“What?”

He nods his chin behind you, and you follow suit—a young couple laughing as they twirl. “Should we give it a go?”

It's somewhat whimsical, somewhat absurd, that not only is this hulking man dancing with you, but he also wished to twirl you like you were partners in some grand ballroom. Yet, as you stare into his smiling eyes, you swear there’s a hint of excitement in them. And what good is a ballerina without a performative twirl?

“Okay,” you accepted his offer.

You placed your hand in his, feeling the rough calluses of his fingers but somehow right against your skin. At your subtle cue, Simon raised your joined palms, spinning you outward in elegance and then back into the solid wall of his chest.

“One more time.” You said, and he did as you asked.

You cup his mask-hidden jaw, feeling for each woven polypropylene against your fingers. The plum of your smiling lips swells with desire, and without thinking, you press your lips to his cheek. Your heart skips a beat, gripped by a jolt of trepidation, fear, and regret that perhaps you have crossed a line, that you might drive him away.

But Simon doesn't.

Instead, he seized your waist and drew you close, eliminating any distance between you. The air was snatched from your lungs in a stolen gasp with the force of his possessive move. Like a lover accompanied by passion as he reaps longing.

(I swell with hope, in the sweet desire of a girl seeking love.)

“I’m dyin’ for a smoke.” He confessed.

You glanced around at the lively party still swirling around you. Turning back to him, you suggested, “Should we slip out the back then?”

“Sure.”

Smiling up at him, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze before untangling them from your waist. “You go on ahead—I just need to swap to flats real quick.” You gestured to the high heels that had been enveloping your throbbing toes for hours.

As Simon nodded and turned to go, you hurried off the floor, limping just slightly. The celebratory noise faded as you stepped to the left side of the manor, where the hallway to your room stretched in silence. You turned the doorknob, and the old wood swung with a low creak.

Walking to your suitcase, you flipped it open, took out your Mary Janes, and replaced your high heels with them with a sigh of relief.

Just as you moved to stand, you heard footsteps approaching, then a shadow fell across the open door. Too small to be Simon. Looking up with a start, your heart nearly dropped when you found your mother standing there, arms crossed in a frown full of distaste.

“I've been watching you all night with that… man. You're getting far too comfortable, are you?”

That tone—that same tone that you had heard countless times growing up, signaling the beginnings of an argument. Your shoulders tensed. The pulse inside you quickened as your defenses began to rise, readying themselves in anticipation of the barrage of barbed words that might come next.

The oceans dividing San Francisco and London were supposed to end whatever connection existed between you both—to pretend that it didn’t exist. It should have been a clean finale, allowing you to simply live as a normal girl with normal reactions to everything, as if nothing bad had ever happened to you.

Yet, look, your traitor body is gearing up for battle just the same. Your mind may lie, you may lie, but the wound bearer presents the results of years of being forged beneath her. 5,351 miles stretched, but you are still the same sixteen-year-old girl who bit her tongue, holding her words like a criminal about to be executed on the spot.

What a mother-daughter relationship you have.

You watch warily as Mother begins circling the room, her high heels clicking ominously, slightly showing the red soles beneath them. Louboutins, you remember. You also remember all too well how much those had cost—the very shoes you had “helped” fund years ago when you foolishly still let her access your bank account, even after you turned nineteen.

“Do you know why he’s here?” Mother tries the first question, testing the waters.

Like a frightened little girl—that same little girl from that sunny day so many years ago—you deflect the real question, “Because I invited him.”

Mother, unimpressed, casts you a sharp look, as if daring you to dare her. “You know what I mean. Do you know why he’s here?”

You bit your lip, grasping at straws. “He’s… my boyfriend.”

Mother scoffed mockingly. She turned to you, face contorted in amusement as if you had just told the funniest joke. “Boyfriend? Please. Is that what you think?”

You flinched back as Mother suddenly whirled to face you, her sculpted features twisting into a reflection of pure, unbridled rage. The similar pair of eyes glared at you wide. She buried her nails deep into your epidermis, and you gasped from the sting.

“The only reason a man would want you is between your legs. You think you found love, but really he's with you only because you're easy. You’re just a cheap fuck to him, (Y/N).”

The hot, stinging droplets gathered and spilled over without your permission. You hated yourself for fueling her twisted satisfaction. Hating that she still knew exactly where to aim her barbs to find their mark after all these years.

But nothing compares to the fact that she is your mother. She is your mother, and yet, how could those words come out of her mouth so easily? As if her criticisms had festered within her mind and she was finally allowing them to escape. There's a small, broken part of you that can't help but wonder—and why do you even wonder? You know yourself better than she does, surely.

Or do you?

Or is it true that there really is nothing to take beyond your body like the unloveable, worthless child she always says you are?

You felt a spark of anger flare. “How could you say that to me?” you choked out, baring your wounded heart. Wrong move—you know this, proved many times that showing emotion had never gotten anywhere with Mother before.

But the younger, wounded teenager in you would always crave some kind of validation, some sign she truly cared. Perhaps hidden beneath the person she's become, she still holds a flicker of the warmth she once felt for you. You’re her daughter, and she’s your mother—shouldn’t that be enough for her to finally treat you like one?

“I’m only telling you the truth so you won’t be naive. Do you think he’ll love you when there are so many girls out there who are much prettier than you?”

At times, the wiser you knew not to take Mother’s words to heart—your survival instincts, born of too many experiences, told you not to let her poison seep into your skin. But more often than not, you didn’t know better. Right now, you don’t know better.

(Prying my mouth open, she dripped her bitter blood until we were indistinguishable.)

Clenching your fist, you say through gritted teeth, “You don’t know him.”

Mother’s features bent in hate at your rebellion. The young daughter no more, grown into someone who dared to talk back rather than just gulping down her every word raw.

“And you do?” she spat. “How long have you known this man? Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s none of your business,” you retorted, but not convinced enough for her to see the gap in your expression.

“Not my business? Of course it’s my business – I’m your mother!”

Summoning the last of your courage, you mumbled, “You’re not… my mother.”

Her neat eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What did you just say to me?”

It was a second chance, one she rarely gave. For a moment, you considered taking it back—rewording your reply to something less confrontational, something safer. But you were sick of it—years of carrying her wounds you hadn’t even caused, weighing your body down and sinking them deeper into pitless hell. Of always looking past her anger and ego, finding justifications and reasons to tolerate her. Of being under her control when the young girl inside you needed her anger represented.

And you repeated it without rewording: “You’re not my mother. Not anymore.”

As it left your lips, you saw a flicker of change in Mother’s expression—was that hurt in her eyes? So foreign was her expression that you almost doubted yourself. Regret seized you along with the guilt and self-loathing that gripped your heart.

Then, the hurt blinked away as if it was never there. “Look at you,” she hissed, “throwing away your mother, the woman who birthed and raised you with great difficulty, all for some worthless man. I'm not even surprised if you end up pregnant in a few months, or maybe you already are. Don't say I didn't warn you when he leaves you with a bastard child.”

And they were right when they said that anger is the most effective key.

Moments ago, you can still find the shadow of that sixteen-year-old girl remains within, with pieces of her innocence—a bit of a child’s grin. Her body is still in fear, yet her eyes are always yearning for praise from her mother’s voice.

However, as the grown woman you are ignites in a seething cauldron of fury—disagreement with Mother’s treatment—the little girl begins to fade, reduced to ashes amidst the fire. The “why” question echoes loudly with demands. I'm your baby—you made me; why do you hurt me?

“Why? Why are you so sure only bad things will happen? Why can’t you believe I can find happiness?” Warm tears welled up, tasting salty on your lips as you asked.

Mother raised a warning finger. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

But you’ve passed the point of backing down. “Why? Why are you so convinced I’ll always be unhappy? WHY?!”

(As if it had been written long before my creation.)

Taking a sharp, short breath, you feel self-control slipping away. Your lungs hitched with condemnation, constricting you, trying to escape the hell Mother handmade just for you. You’re crossing the line; something scolds (the same voice your mother planted early on) inside your head, but you refuse to give in.

The dim red light between the cracks in your skull grows brighter, and the next thing you say are the words you've been holding back for so long:

“I’m not you! And what happened with Dad was not my fault!”

And finally, silence fills the small space between you, followed by the faint echo of your voice. As the last syllable faded, the words that had been spoken left you feeling conflicted. That little girl would consider this disobedience—the result of the doctrine your mother spat at her every day—but all you know now is the strange lightness in your heart, as if shedding a massive burden that you didn’t realize you had been carrying your whole life.

Mother took a sharp, hissing breath, and you saw the subtle quiver in her clenched jaw. “You're out of line,” she said.

“I'm out of line?! You were the first one to cross that line, over and over, hurting me for years, but now that I finally do it to you, now I'm the one who's out of line?!” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush, all the pain and anger that you had piled up erupting to the surface. “You've always hurt me, said awful things, made me feel like nothing! But the second I did it to you, suddenly I'm the bad one? That's not fair!"

In the blink of an eye, she extends her perfectly manicured hand to grasp the first object within her reach—a heavy crystal paperweight on the table. Your eyes are glued to it, feet ready to flee when she hurls it at you.

“You fucking ungrateful bitch!” she screamed.

Some distant, rational part of you knows you should dodge. But a darker impulse held you frozen, as if welcoming the blunt object to damage your epidermis and even more so to become evidence of her abuse. And perhaps, once the crimson drips from your split temple, it will be enough to reveal the true identity she has been hiding—to destroy the loving mother image she has carefully built for years.

You will make a spectacle of the wound, perhaps even exaggerating it a bit like Mother always did.

It came so close when it landed on the floor next to you. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Mother’s face flushed like the devil as she shouted, “I should never have given birth to you!”

Strange, that relief is what washes over you when her words land in your ears. Because for the first time, the two of you agreed on something – she wished you had never been born, just as you had so often wished the same.

Those “precious” teenage years were filled with alternating fantasies—some days hoping she might die, others wishing it was you instead. But you were never able to go through with killing her, or yourself. Because being without Mother meant being utterly lost and alone, and you were too cowardly to cut your wrist open. More days though, you regretted it—how it might have all ended sooner if only you had been braver.

You wonder who's to blame to just make sense of it—perhaps Mother's mother had been cruel, and she thought she had broken the cycle. Perhaps Joyce, for always being the golden child despite everything. Perhaps Dad. Perhaps you.

All those long, drawn-out years, you stayed, you suffered for her. Because the little girl in the bright pink shoes—the color that matched Mother's favorite dress before she threw it away—loved her mother so much. Always making excuses for her. Maybe she didn't know how to love me, or I didn't understand her way of loving me. Maybe somewhere in her anger were kisses in her own language.

You stood frozen as hollowness spread through your chest, as if the eruption had cleansed you until nothing but an empty clarity remained. Even when Simon entered the room, you didn't notice his presence until he spoke.

“Fuck’s all this?” His question didn’t really wait for an answer as he rushed to your side.

Mother smoothed her hair imperiously, then said: “We were just having a talk.”

Simon’s brown eyes scan the scene: the shattered paperweight, Mother’s suspicious fist. He then turns to examine you carefully, searching for any injuries and only letting out a slight sigh when he finds none.

“Go wait in the car. I’ll sort our things.” Simon orders, and without argument, you nod, walking out of the bedroom.

The room felt heavier with tension after you departed, leaving Simon alone with your seething mother. He moved with purpose, in a quick and efficient mind, as he gathered your things—a toothbrush and hairbrush from the bathroom, dresses from the closet, pulling out drawers for any other items. After throwing them into your suitcase, he tidied up his own things with even more haste and less care.

As he picked up his abandoned tie, Mother cleared her throat. “You don’t need to do this, you know. I know my daughter better than anyone, and she’s not what you really need.”

For a moment, Simon paused, jaw working as he reined his temper. Mother thought she had his attention—finally getting him to listen to her. But soon enough, he resumed his task as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

Undeterred, she pressed on. “There are prettier, worthier girls than her. Ones who won’t cause you so much trouble.”

Simon’s hands stilled at that, Mother thought she had succeeded in making him consider. Slowly, he turned to face the older woman. But what she read in his eyes was not a realization or even a spark of curiosity. No, it was a look that suggested he knew a lot about people like her, had seen a lot despite him being a decade her junior.

“That what you tell ‘er then?” He began, hate raining down like hail in his voice. “That she ain’t good enough, or pretty enough? That she’s nothin’ but trouble?”

The woman met his gaze, and Simon noticed how her eyes were shaped like yours, except colder, full of twisted conviction whenever she talked about you. “I only speak the truth, for her own good. Someone has to keep that headstrong girl in line before she comes to ruin.”

At that, he let out an impolite scoff, but Simon gave zero fucks. “Yeah? Cause all I see is you tryin’ to keep ‘er under yer thumb.”

Simon watched as the woman's face contorted into an ugly frown of dislike; her mask had been abandoned somewhere. He wondered how you survived all those years at home, how you could still say you “love her to bits” on your first meeting.

But he supposes that’s how children are. Misplaced unconditional love for their lifegivers. Sometimes, his critical mind thinks it’s a shame for the Man in the Sky to give little humans to people who don’t deserve them—to abusers, addicts, snakes like this one right here. But then again, Simon had no right to complain when he stopped believing in any of all that years ago—after he lost everyone that mattered.

"I'm her mother." She repeated.

“And she’s yer daughter. Not yer pet or yer little dog to order about.”

As Simon returned to tending to the bags, the woman took a slow, deep breath. "I know men like you," she replied. “You think you're protecting her—you think you're saving her, but all you want is a girl to use and toss aside once you've grown bored.”

Simon’s tedious task came to a halt, the zipper of the bag half-open. He furrowed his blond brows, brown eyes focused on nothing. Before long, he gathered the bags and shouldered them, his free hand dragging the suitcase as he walked through the gaping door. That woman spoke again, but he turned a deaf ear to her venomous spit.

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