#don’t!!! I don’t know what I’m doing!! I just love hearing my voice so I talk and talk and talk!!!

[daisymbin]

[19:51] - choi seungcheol

a/n: as you can tell by now, im down so bad for this man...the amount of fics I've written for him....sickening

check out my masterlist!

"if you don't love me anymore, you can just tell me."

the words tumble out of seungcheol's mouth as if they’ve been sitting on his tongue for hours, maybe even days. his voice is quiet but firm, and it catches you completely off guard. the two of you are sitting together on the couch, the usual comfortable silence between you both now feeling...strained.

you turn to look at him, your eyes widening at the unexpected confession. "what?" you ask, the confusion evident in your voice. you’ve been in a relationship with him for so long that you never expected him to say something like that.

he doesn’t meet your gaze right away. instead, he stares ahead, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you can tell he’s trying to look calm, but there’s a tension in his shoulders and a flicker of doubt in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. it makes your heart twist, and you instinctively reach out to touch his arm.

"cheol..what are you talking about?" you ask softly, your fingers brushing his skin. "why would you even say that?"

he finally turns to face you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen. there’s a sadness there, like he’s been carrying something heavy for a while, unsure of whether he should put it down.

"i just... i don’t know," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "i feel like things have been... different between us lately. like maybe you’re not as into me anymore. and it’s been bothering me, but i didn’t know how to bring it up."

your heart drops at his words, and you immediately pull him closer, your hand on his cheek. "cheol-ah, that’s not true," you say urgently. "i’ve been distracted, busy with work, with life. but i still love you. nothing’s changed."

he sighs, his eyes softening as he leans into your touch. "i don’t know," he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. "it just feels like we’ve been drifting apart. and i’m scared. scared that you don’t love me the way you used to."

you shake your head, a lump forming in your throat. how could he think that? how could he even question your feelings after all this time?

"choi seungcheol," you say, your voice firm now, trying to reassure him. "i’m not going anywhere. i love you more than anything. but i don’t always show it in the ways you expect, and maybe that’s where the disconnect is. but i love you. i always have & i always will."

he looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and hesitance. "you still love me?" he asks, as though he needs to hear it again.

"yes," you reply, your heart full of emotion. "i still love you. i always will."

for a moment, he just stares at you, his face slowly breaking into a smile. it’s a small, relieved smile, but it’s the most genuine one you’ve seen from him in days.

"okay," he says, his voice quiet but full of warmth. "i just needed to hear that."

you smile back at him, feeling the weight lift off your chest. "i’m sorry i made you worry," you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "but i’m here, and i’m not going anywhere."

seungcheol lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "i don’t know what i’d do without you."

you chuckle, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "well, don't even think about that then, it won't ever happen."

seungcheol pulls you into a hug, holding you tight against him. "i love you," he whispers, his voice full of sincerity.

"i love you too," you reply, your heart swelling in your chest.

[moonstruckme]

hi love I like all ur fics!!! Ur most recent emt Maurader made me realize tho we don't always get to see Sirius being vulnerable so what about a fic where may be he's having an off day? Or runs into a cousin and they completely ignore him and he tries to act like it doesn't bother him and just reader comforting him and giving him space

Thank you for requesting angel!

cw: allusion to past abuse, discussion of toxic workplace dynamics

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Sirius gets home from work early. You’re in the bedroom, stomach-down on the mattress with your book in front of you. You hear the front door open and come out to greet your boyfriend, but your smile falls when you see him. 

Sirius’ face is red. He doesn’t usually color when he’s upset, so you take it to mean something that he has now. He steps on the back of his shoe a couple of times before he manages to get it off, stomps on the back of the other even more harshly. You think he might be shaking. 

“Sirius?” 

He flinches. Turning around, his expression twinges with some mix of emotions at seeing you, too muddled to parse apart. He seals them all away quickly. 

You take a step towards him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” It comes out hoarse. Sirius clears his throat. “Yeah. Just a shit day at work.” 

“You’re home early,” you note. 

Sirius nods curtly. You think maybe that’s that, but his expression is conflicted. 

“Do you wanna sit down?” you ask gently, going to the couch and hoping he’ll follow. He does. It’s a challenge not to reach for his hand, to pull him closer or offer some kind touch, but the stiffness about Sirius’ frame hints that it may not be well received right now. 

When he’s still silent after a moment, you say, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I could make tea and we could just relax.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says, tersely, like he might be trying to convince himself more than you. “I think I’m probably going to be fired, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows go up. 

“I…you know how I got a new boss a few weeks ago?” 

You nod mutely. 

“Right, well, she’s got a temper. At least a couple times a week I’ll hear her shouting at someone in her office and she’s already managed to fire from almost every team.” Your dread mounts as Sirius goes on, speaking faster now that he’s on a roll. “She called me in after lunch. I fucked up something in a report—I hadn’t checked it and it had gotten sent out with the error—and she was pissed. She screamed at me—really screamed, stood up and got red in the face and all that—for probably ten minutes before she sent me back to my desk. And I just came home.” Sirius lets out a dry chuckle. “If she doesn’t fire me, I might quit.” 

“You should, baby.” Your voice pitches with dismay, hurt and outrage for him warring inside you. You take a chance and reach for his hand. Sirius fits his fingers between yours instinctively, something seeming to loosen in him at the touch. “I can’t believe she really shouted at you. No one deserves that, least of all for a silly error in a report. She should be fired for that.” 

Sirius gives you a little smile, but it dissolves at the edges, watery. A cavity opens in your chest as his eyes grow shiny. 

“Baby.” 

He shakes his head, jaw clenched. Blinking. “Sorry,” he says roughly. “I never used to do this.” You feel your face pinch with sympathy. He means cry, you know. Sirius as an adult is more emotional than he was as a child, but you still rarely see him cry. “She just—she sounded just like my mother.” 

Realization comes like a blow to your middle. “Oh, my love,” you say breathlessly, moving to put your arms around him. 

Sirius usually hugs with his whole being. He throws himself into it, with force and purpose and his own rough brand of caring. So you’re used to letting him take the lead, but now, when his arms come around you hesitantly, you’re the one who applies the pressure. And Sirius melts against you. 

You cup the back of his neck in one hand and squeeze between his shoulders with the other, imagining your love pouring out of you and into him through your palms. Sirius is quiet, but you feel a couple of hot tears transfer from his chin to your shirt. You worry he’s holding his breath. 

“Sirius.” You say his name with all the tenderness you can summon, afraid of him hearing echoes of his mother’s voice. “I’m so sorry, lovely. You never, ever deserve to be shouted at that way.” 

“Even if I told you I left your favorite mug at my office?” he jokes weakly. 

You let him go. There aren’t many tears to brush off his cheeks, and you make short work of them, soothing your thumbs over his face just for the sake of it. Surprisingly, his complexion is less agitated than it had been when he’d come in. He was holding it in, you realize. 

“Don’t ever let me speak to you like that,” you say.

Sirius’ expression sobers. “You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.” 

“Really. Leave me if I talk to you like that, I’m serious.” 

“No, that’s me.” 

One side of your mouth tips up without your consent. “Bad joke.” 

Sirius mirrors you, grinning halfheartedly. “You think you’d have learned to evade it by now.” 

You gather that he wants things to be light now. That’s okay. You know Sirius has a difficult time with the truly heavy emotions—anger is an instinct for him, but tears and sorrow he’s never known what to do with. You’ll talk about it more over time, in bits and pieces where he’s comfortable. And just because you’re letting it go now doesn’t mean you’re done coddling him. 

You let your hands coast down from his face to either side of his neck, massaging gently the tension in his shoulders. “Did you really bring my favorite mug to work?” 

Sirius’ smile goes a tad sheepish. “Yes?” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because it makes me think of my most favorite sweetheart when I get coffee from the break room,” he says, smarmy. “Also, it was the first one I saw when I went to grab one from our cabinet.” 

You smile at him. Sirius pretends at facetiousness, but you know the first reason had been the genuine one. 

“What,” he asks, “you didn’t notice it was missing?” 

“No, I did. I only thought you’d broken it.” 

“And you weren’t going to say anything?” 

“What’d be the point?” 

A soft, intimate look comes over Sirius’ face. “I don’t deserve you,” he says, gray eyes raw and quiet, “do I?” 

You match his tone. “Of course you do, lovely. You deserve better than me, it’s just I’m what you’ve got.” 

“Mm, there’s another way you’re not allowed to speak.” He wraps his arms around you, pressing a heavy-fond kiss to your hairline. “I won’t have any of that talk.” 

“I’ll trade you that for the jokes about your name.” 

“No, I don’t think so. You’re going to have to work a little harder, doll, I’m not giving those up so easily.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Reputation to uphold

Day 5: No need for poetry.

Summary: Hiding the letters is his first priorities.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1368

Warnings: fluff, azzie being a shy baby 🥹

A/n: i loved writing this hehehe (i wrote most of this in 40 mins 💀)

@azrielappreciationweek

ANYWAY ENJOYYYY ���

°•°•°•○����○•°•°•°

"I missed this, mama." Hazel sighed, pulling away her cup of hot chocolate. Azriel smiled, looking over at his daughter, sitting next to his now son in law, Kaden.

What did I say? He was going to take away my daughter.

Y/n raised her brows. "It’s barely been a week since you’ve last had it."

Hazel grimaced. "Yeah, and his hot chocolate does not compare."

"Hey that’s mean!" Kaden sputtered, choking on his own drink.

"Yeah, stop being mean to my son."

Hazel rolled her eyes, turning to her father.

"Dad, come on, tell me a story." She had always been fond of listening to stories, and Az, wanting to make his daughter happy, had begun the new habit of telling stories every night.

Azriel glanced at his wife as she settled in next to him, warmth spreading in his chest. No matter how long they’d been married for, even just the sight of Y/n filled Azriel with happiness. Just as it had back when he had first seen her in the market, giggling with her friends over something.

"What do you want to hear about?"

Hazel leaned back, contemplating before perking up. "How you met mom and got married."

Azriel’s cheeks warmed, and he prayed his wife did not notice.

"Look dad, you’ve always said I was too young to know, but now I am even married. I want to know."

Azriel sighed, looking to his wife for help.

"Yeah Az, I wanna know the story too." Y/n grinned, not meeting his eyes.

Knowing he would not be allowed to leave without reliving his most embarrassing moments, he got comfortable in his chair.

"I saw her in the market one day. She was with her friends, and I instantly knew I was going to marry her one day."

She had been so ethereal, and she was in just a simple flowy dress. Her hair had been pinned out of her face, the breeze softly playing with the strands the way Azriel wished he could. Her smile, it could have brought him to his knees. And her sparkling eyes spoke of kindness far more louder than actions, the love and compassion for her fellow fae shining through every blink.

"Did you ever write her love letters and poetry?"

Azriel scoffed, focusing on the dark dregs at the bottom of his cup. "Me? I don’t have to resort to poetry."

Azriel felt his wife’s gaze on him, and he could picture her perfectly, sitting there, eyebrows raised in a are you sure about that? gesture.

"Yeah, he just ended up drowning in the river trying to impress me."

Azriel turned to glare at Y/n accusingly, who simply shrugged. "Now Az, lying is bad. Someone has to tell the truth."

Azriel grumbled, then again began. This time, truthfully. "Feyre needed some paint supplies from the market, and because I was free, I offered to get them for her."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel never thought he would ever ask someone for a romantic day out. After all, he never had to do that. He would just give females a glance and they would ask him to spend time with them themselves.

But this time, it was not happening. The female in the market square barely spared him a glance when he sidled up to her, pretending to look at all the brightly coloured pots on display at the stand she was giggling with her friends over.

"Y/n, that pot would look so good with your couch!"

Y/n. That name would certainly look good with Azriel’s name next to it.

"Yes Cindy, I’m going to cook on my couch."

Azriel smiled down at the pot in his hands, biting his cheek.

"It certainly is beautiful though." He mumbled, voice low so only Y/n could hear as her two other friends started bickering. He felt her stiffen before she glanced at him.

"That it is. But I don’t think I’m in need of more things."

Azriel swallowed, nodding. "You live near?"

Finally, he gathered the courage to meet her narrowed eyes. "Why do you ask?"

He smiled with a confidence he did not feel. "Where will I pick you up from for our dinner tomorrow then if you don’t tell me?"

She reared back as if his words had a physical impact on him.

"I- I’m sorry, I’m not interested."

Azriel blinked. But before he could say anything, she had grabbed her friends’ hands and dragged them away.

But from the slight blush on her face, he knew that he only needed to try and she would agree.

He bought the pot she had been eyeing so longingly just moments before, then hurried to go get the paints Feyre had asked for.

He was so sure he wouldn’t have to resort to poetry.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

The next day, Azriel was back at the market square, trying to figure out which direction she had gone. He had probably been wandering around aimlessly when he spotted the beautiful head of the lady he was so enthralled by.

"Hey. Pleasant day." He said as he fell in step beside the unsuspecting female.

She jumped, wide, frantic eyes meeting his own. Exasperation spread through her features as she realised it was him.

"You- what are you doing here?"

He shrugged, grinning as he held his gloved hand out. "I’m Azriel."

Her brows furrowed. She probably thought Azriel was loose in the head. "Y/n."

"Beautiful name for a beautiful lady."

She sighed. "Look, I’ve already told you I’m not interested."

"Why not?"

She paused. "I don’t like males who think they’re entitled to my time."

He nodded sagely. "Me neither. I hate people like that. But look at this like this, I want to get to know you. Maybe this could be something-"

She sighed. "No. Sorry."

Azriel’s palms turned sweaty. He had found her again, he did not want to let her go without getting something out of this. Even one evening of talking was enough. "I- I am the high lord’s shadowsinger."

Her gaze hardened. "Are you threatening me?"

His eyes widened. "No! I could never! I’m just trying…"

"Trying what?"

"To make you interested in me. It has worked before."

She rolled her eyes. "I don’t like males who try to entice me by stating their high powers."

Panic seized Azriel. This was going very wrong very quickly, and he did not like it one bit.

"I did not mean it that way-"

"Really, sir, I do not care what you meant and what you didn’t. Just leave me alone."

Azriel was left gaping after her, breathing heavy.

Fuck.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Azriel balled up another paper, throwing it behind him before clutching his head.

He had decided that being arrogant and trying to keep up his records of never having to resort to poetry would not help him.

Your eyes like the sun,Shining so beautiful,Your hair like waterfall,You-

Was Azriel truly so bad at poetry?

He was doomed.

She wouldn’t give him the time of day, evident by her refusal to even acknowledge him the three times he had tried to interact with her after that day at the market, and he was losing hope. He had sent countless letters and poems already to her house through his shadows, and he still had received no response.

Maybe he was well and truly doomed.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"You know, I still have all those letters and poems."

Azriel’s head whipped to look at his wife, eyes wide. "Why?"

She shrugged, getting up from the couch and taking the cup from Hazel and kaden, both who grinned unabashedly.

"You think I would burn or throw away letters of desperation sent by the spymaster?" Y/n snorted. "Let me get them for you, children."

"No!" Azriel semi-yelled, shooting to his feet before dashing into their bedroom, hoping to stop her before she even tried to reveal all his secrets.

Loud laughter followed the frantic spymaster, but he did not care. All he cared about was finding those letters and burning them, or maybe atleast hiding them away so his wife couldn’t tease him about it.

He had a reputation to uphold, after all.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[bidisasterevankinard]

I'm coming for you

For @louscurls bc they said let's crush this Jeep. I did

“Text him text him text him,” that is all Tommy can hear around him because Lucy almost screams it in his ear and all the team, who are on the shift, eat their pizza and repeat this with her between chewing.

“I won’t text him,” Tommy says loud enough so everyone hears him. “It won’t make both of us any good.”

“You don’t know it,” says Milton.

“It might be that you both actually have something to tell each other. At least I’m sure Buckley has,” Lucy says, nodding on his phone, “but if you actually think it's a bad idea then gimme your phone. I’ll block him so you won’t look at your phone like a kicked puppy,” she tries to take his phone, but he is quicker to get it to his other hand. 

“No, no one blocks him either.”

“THEN TEXT HIM,” the chorus of voices makes him jump in his seat. 

“I won’t te…” his phone starts ringing, “OH FUCK! IT’S EVAN! WHAT SHOULD I DO?”

“ANSWER HIM!”

Tommy wants to say no. Again, finding the way to play it won’t give him or Evan really good to start again. But the truth is his weak man and he misses Evan like crazy. He answers the call right before it can disconnect.

“Go for Kinard,” he ignores everyone's rolled eyes, trying to stop his heart from beating too fast when all he hears is Evan’s strange breathing and sounds like some is screaming and moaning in the background. “Evan?”

“H-hi, Tommy,” the voice is weak. Too weak for Tommy’s liking. 

“Evan? What’s wrong, where are you?” 

Everyone comes closer to him, with faces that make Tommy want to puke.

“C-car accident. Someone T-boned me and then several cars got into me from different sides,” weak voice answers him. “I don’t think you meant this by being my last, but hey, look you were wrong. First and last are the same.”

“Evan, what is your location and how do you feel? And why do you call me and not dispatch.”

“Some-someone already called. Heard it. Wanted to call or text you all week. Why did you s-stopp bubbling me? I-I wanted you to text me. B-baked so many things because of you.”

Tommy listens as well as he can when he begs someone to call dispatch and find out where a massive pile up happened. 

“I love you so much Tom-my why was I not enough? I just wanted to be enough for you,” Tommy’s heart stops when he hears it and he feels the tears on his face. 

“I love you too, baby, that’s why I need you to tell me where you are, please Evan,” he hears only breathing on the line, “Evan? Evan! Please talk to me.”

“I have the address,” Lucy screams, pointing towards the helicopters.

Tommy runs, hoping Evan still can hear him, at least while he still can listen to his breath on the line, he will believe it, “I’m coming for you, Evan.”

[leighsartworks216]

I Want You

Sylus x gn!Reader

For all my folks who have been told they're not good enough to be wanted by anyone

Warnings: insecurity, kissing, alcohol, swearing, crying, embarrassment, not proofread

Word Count: 1,349

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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“Have you ever been with anyone?”

It’s a simple question, perhaps born from your uncertainty, here and now. Standing on a moonlit balcony, dressed nicely, dinner on a candlelit table behind you, already savored. It was all Sylus’s planning, of course. When he needed to go to another country, he’d invited you to join him, as a little vacation from your own work to help him with his. When he then invited you to dinner, well, you didn’t think it would be quite this… romantic.

You both stand side by side at the balcony railing, you with half a flute of champagne and him with his own glass of wine. With your elbows on the rail, the flute hangs loosely over the freefall to the ground below. Beyond that, an entire city stretches out into the dim horizon.

You laugh humorlessly. “No. Who would want me?”

“I want you,” Sylus answers quickly.

You don’t look away from the view. Instead, you swirl the champagne around the sides of your glass. The sardonic, deprecating smile slips slowly from your face. You don’t believe him.

He sets his glass on the railing and turns fully toward you. With gentle fingers, he holds your chin and guides you to look up at him. His eyes are sharp. “I want you,” he repeats, firmer this time. His hand slides up to cup your face, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “What will it take for you to believe me?”

You divert your gaze again as you try to pull his hand from your face. “Look, you don’t have to pity me, Sy. I know I’m not desirable-”

“Not desirable?” He scoffs. “Now who ever told you that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe just everyone, my entire life? I know nobody wants me, you don’t have to bullshit me on this.”

“When have you ever known me to bullshit something?”

You don’t answer, and he doesn’t let you pull his hand away. Instead, he cradles your face in both hands, chasing your gaze. “I want you. I want… your laugh when you hear me singing, and your eyes when you’re trying to get a plushie from the claw machine.”

“This isn’t funny anymore.” You set your glass down to hold both of his wrists, trying to pull your burning face from his hold so you can leave.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not joking, sweetheart,” he scolds lightly. “I want your smile when we go for joyrides, and your frown when the Twins are playing tricks on you.”

He leans in, tightening the space trapped between you. The night air is pushed out. It’s just him and you, and your shared breaths. He looks so intense, but not in a frightening way.

Your whole body is hot and uneasy. This still feels like an elaborate joke meant to insult you and make your faux-vacation a personal hell for you to relive every 3am for the rest of your life.

“I want your courage,” he whispers, deep voice slightly raspy at this volume. “I want your stubbornness.”

Your eyes are burning. You’re so embarrassed - you wish you could just hide under the table cloth until the end of the universe.

“I want to watch that triumphant little dance you do when you beat me in Kitty Cards. I want to hear your voice when you first wake up.”

A tear slips free. His face is blurred by the breaking dam. He brushes away each tear with his thumbs.

“I want… every little thing about you.”

You sniffle. You hold tighter to his wrists, torn between continuing to push him away and pulling him closer. He doesn’t shake you off, either way. “What about all the things you don’t want?” you ask, voice trembling and weak and utterly pathetic.

He brushes his nose against yours. Your breath stutters. “Like what?”

“My temper and my recklessness and how- how naive I can be sometimes…” You close your eyes. You can imagine any expression you want on him like this, and right now, you can just picture so perfectly the realization that would come across his face when he realizes you’re right. When he finally remembers just how insufferable and annoying you are. More tears fall as you squeeze them shut tighter. “My fat and my pickiness and-”

“All of it,” he cuts you off. “Anything you can possibly think of. Everything. I want it all.”

His tone leaves no room for argument…

But you’ve never listened to that anyway.

“Why? Why do you want… all of this? You- You can have so much more than me. So much more. Why do you want to settle for me?”

He scoffs. “I’m not settling for anything. You should know by now, kitten, I don’t go for anything less than the best.”

You sniffle again. You can’t imagine what you look like, all gross from crying. One hand finally releases your face, slipping out of your grasp. You hold onto the railing tightly in its place. Something soft and cool brushes away the tears. It’s silk; it feels just like the expensive bed sheets he has on every bed in his base.

“Will you open your eyes?” He cups your face again, the silk pressed in between his palm and your cheek. He brushes his nose more insistently against yours. “Please?”

Water sticks to your eyelashes as you force them open. Under your eyes feels raw and heavy, but your tears have dissipated enough that his face isn’t blurry. He smiles softly.

“There you are,” he whispers, fondly stroking your cheek again. “I want you. Nothing you think will ever change that. Nothing anybody else thinks will change it, either.”

“Really?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up slightly higher, becoming a smirk. “Do I need to prove it to you?”

Your face burns with more than just embarrassment now. You nod ever so slightly. This close, you can see the way his eyes darken as they glance down at your mouth. You can feel his pulse under your hand where you hold his wrist, picking up speed. You just barely hear the slight hitch in his breath as his lips brush over yours. Your eyes flutter shut, and he fully slots your lips together.

He kisses you slow and deep, holding your face firmly to keep you there, to keep you from drawing away from him. It’s insistent. He pulls away for a breath and dives back in. Each kiss is more determined and desperate than the last, until he’s breathing heavily against your mouth, tongue begging for entrance. Until your lips are swollen as you let him in. Until he finally, finally draws away, and watches with hooded eyes as the string of saliva connecting your mouths snaps.

You’re just as dazed as he is. You haven’t even opened your eyes yet, dumbly seeking out his lips again for one more kiss until your mind catches up with the quiet chuckle that fans across your face. Your chest rises and falls with passion, your cheeks are burning with desire, and you look up at him like he’s just pulled the moon down from the sky and handed it to you. He can’t resist nipping gently at your bruised lower lip. He’s glad he didn’t, when you let out a choked whine, begging for more.

“Do you believe me now, my beloved?” he rasps. The name sends shivers down your spine.

You release his wrist and reach up to hold his face. He’s all sharp cheekbones and broad shoulders, but when your fingers brush his hair, it’s impossibly soft. He’s impossibly soft right now, leaning into your touch and sighing as your fingers scrape along the fine hairs at the base of his skull. Gathering all of the courage that he admires so much, you whisper, “I think I need a bit more convincing.”

He laughs, already kissing you when he says, “It would be my pleasure.”

And, despite all the things you’ve been told all your life, you think you’re really starting to believe him.

---

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@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[corroded-hellfire]

https://www.tumblr.com/corroded-hellfire/743622480481107968/reading-ayw-things-has-me-thinking-about-eddie-and

I loved this request! To add on the baby fever, but this has a little bit of sadness, when baby Eliza looses that newborn baby scrunch, meaning that she's no more a newborn and she's growing. I was loosing it when my cousin did this (we're like 5 years apart)

For those unfamiliar with the newborn scrunch: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLFYCP6t/

THE NEWBORN SCRUNCH! It is the cutest of cuteness. I can't even imagine how I'm going to feel when I someday have a baby and they stop doing this lol. Probably react like Reader, ngl 😂

Warnings: Mom!Reader, Dad!Eddie, Eddie should get kneed in the balls for suggesting having another baby so soon after Reader giving birth

Words: 1.2k

“Well, good morning my little cutie pie.”

Eliza gazes up at you from her bassinet, her little legs kicking within the confines of her pink teddy bear footie pajamas. 

“Morning, sweet pea.” Eddie comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder as he smiles down at your infant daughter. 

“Ready to get up and start the day?” you ask, fighting back a yawn. Eliza has gotten on a more consistent sleep schedule, but you’re still nowhere close to your preferred eight hours. “Babe, can you grab an outfit for her?”

“Sure thing.” Eddie barely takes two steps towards the door to head across the hall to the nursery before hearing you whimper. He immediately spins back around and takes in the situation with wide eyes. “What? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

You’re still facing the bassinet, Eliza held out in front of you. Eddie can see the baby hanging from your grip, her eyes going over your shoulder to squint at her father.

Slowly, you turn to face him, hugging Eliza to your chest. Eddie sees the tears building up in your eyes and comes to your side.

“Hey, what is it?” he asks.

“S-She…” You sniffle and shake your head, unable to vocalize it. Her soft downy hair tickles your cheek as you cradle her. “She didn’t do the scrunch.”

Your husband’s face pinches up into a confused frown. His eyes slide to the left, then right, trying to figure out what the hell you’re talking about. 

“The…scrunch?” he asks. 

“The scrunch!” you whine. “The newborn scrunch!”

By the petulant tone of your voice, Eddie is pretty sure that you would’ve stomped your foot on the ground like a child if you weren’t holding your baby. The look on his face clearly conveys that he has no idea what you’re talking about because you sigh and continue to explain without any further nudge.

“You know how when you pick her up her little legs pull up towards her chest? Like she’s curling in on herself?”

“Oh,” Eddie says as it dawns on him. “Yeah, yeah, now I know what you mean.”

“She didn’t do it when I picked her up.” The wobble in your voice is clear and noticeable even before Eddie sees your bottom lip trembling. “She’s not my newborn anymore.”

“Of course she is,” Eddie says, placing a hand on the middle of your back and rubbing soothing circles there. “She’s only six weeks old.”

“She's already six weeks old!” you cry, the tears finally falling free past the lash line. 

“Aw, sweetheart.” Eddie chuckles, not unkindly, as he uses his thumb to wipe your tears away. 

“S’not funny,” you mumble, gently resting your head against your daughter’s.

Strong, warm arms wrap around you from the side, and you’re pulled up against a solid frame. A few soft kisses are pressed to the side of your face.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby,” he coos. “I think it’s cute, though.”

“Cute that I’m emotional over our baby growing up?” Your voice is harsher than you intended, but Eddie knows you don’t mean any harm by it. All of your hormones are still out of whack from pregnancy and giving birth. 

The end of her scrunch is just the first sign of her growing up. Suddenly you see her walking, saying her first words, going to her first day of pre-school, learning to ride a bike, having her first relationship, going to prom, graduating high school. The cherry on top is her packing up the car to head to college. More tears sting the back of your eyes at the thought. All of a sudden, her mere six weeks seem like a flash in the pan. 

“I think you’re cute,” Eddie amends. “Eliza’s still our newborn, though. She’s going to get stronger, and her little habits and cues are going to change, but she still needs her Mommy and Daddy for everything. Hell, I don’t think the boys could survive without us, either.”

Logic doesn’t always help even out the emotions, but your husband’s attempt does break through the surface. With a soft sniffle, you nod your head in agreement. Of course, Eliza is still your newborn and completely dependent on you. It doesn’t mean that you won’t have the same emotional upheaval when she can hold her head up on her own for the first time, but it’s comforting right now. 

Eddie has been doing a great job of letting you be a first-time mom and have all the emotions and experiences that go along with it, but sometimes his experience of having had two babies already helps ground you. 

“You’re right.” You exhale a deep breath and nod your head. “But I am still going to miss the scrunch.”

“Guess we’ll just have to have another one then, huh? Since you’re going to miss the scrunch,” your husband teases.

Slowly, you turn your head and give him a playful glare. The doctor just gave you the okay to start having sex again. The thought of pushing another baby out of your poor aching body is enough to threaten Eddie with never having sex again. 

“When you give birth, we can have all the babies you want,” you say.

Eddie laughs and presses a few kisses against your hair.

“Deal. Alright, let me go get her some clothes.” Eddie gives your side a loving squeeze before heading out into the hallway.

“Daddy’s right,” you say to Eliza as you gently rock her. “You’re still my new baby girl. I mean, look at these little fingers!” You offer her one of your index fingers and her fist instinctively curls around it. A smile grows on your face as you lift her small hand to your lips and press quick kisses against her knuckles. 

“Babe?” Eddie says as he grabs onto the bedroom door frame and leans into the room. “Where’s her yellow polka dot onesie? The one with the pink buttons.”

“Hmm?” You look at Eddie over your shoulder before turning to face him properly. “Oh, I packed it away a few days ago. She doesn’t fit into it anymore.”

Eddie frowns as he lets go of the doorframe and takes a few stumbling steps into the room. His messy bedhead sways with the movement.

“What?”

“Yeah, the buttons wouldn’t stretch to snap shut anymore,” you tell him.

A harsh sigh makes you look up at your husband. He crosses his arms over his chest and it’s a frighteningly similar look to when Luke is told he can’t have cookies before dinner. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“That was my favorite outfit of hers,” Eddie huffs.

You try your best to hide a smile, but biting your lip can only do so much. Now you realize what Eddie meant when he called you “cute” moments ago. Your husband’s pouting is currently rivaling Eliza’s adorableness. 

“It’s okay, Eds,” you tell him.

“How many clothes did you pack?” he asks, coming closer to you.

“A bunch of newborn ones that are too small now.”

“Eliza,” Eddie whines. He rests his chin on your shoulder and reaches around you to grab her tiny foot. “Why you getting so big? Stop growing up.”

It’s impossible for you not to chuckle at his words. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

[puckinghischier]

I’m a firm believer that quinn would be the kind of boyfriend who’d use the pink sugar lip balm you left at his apartment bc he misses you and bc it smells good

you’d meet up with him for lunch or something, not having seen him in a few days due to each of your crazy schedules, and you’d notice his lips looked a little…shinier than usual.

he’d give you a quick peck in greeting, noticing the tacky nature and slight sweetness of his lips, but just thinking he lathered them in flavored vaseline or something, knowing how dry his lips get during the season from all the exposure to the cold temps.

during lunch you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything but his glossy lips. and how they almost looked…pinker than usual. all the staring would have you realizing your own lips seem dry, fishing around in your purse for your trusty lip balm.

“what’re you looking for, honeybee?” he’d ask while signing the receipt the waiter had just brought, hearing you let out a frustrated huff, your favorite tube of lip gloss nowhere to be found.

“can’t find my lip balm. s’my favorite one, too,” you mumble out, still searching, determined to find it.

“oh! is it this one? you left it at my apartment, in the bathroom,” your head snapped up, seeing the small, pink tube in-between his fingers.

relief washes over you. you were worried you were going to have to go buy a whole new tube, not wanting to spend another $25 when you had just bought that one a couple of weeks ago.

“yes! that’s it! thanks, q,” you happily take the tube from his fingers and apply a thin layer of the tacky ointment to your lips. when you taste the familiar, sweet flavor, the same you tasted on quinn’s lips when you first sat down to eat, it’s like a light bulb went off.

you look up at your boyfriend, the slight shine to his lips still present, even after eating a meal.

“quinn…why did you-” you start, staring at the pink tint to his lips, making sure you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing. “are you wearing my lipgloss?” you finally ask him, a hint of amusement in your voice.

quinn’s cheeks instantly flush. “well…when i found it i didn’t know what it was and took the cap off to smell it, and it smelled really good. then i figured out it was lip gloss and it was pink sugar flavored, so i put some on my lips to see what it tasted like,” he shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “plus i missed you, and it tasted like your kisses, so i kept wearing it. it makes my lips really soft, though.”

you fight the urge to laugh, ginding it adorable he likes wearing your lip gloss because he misses you.

“guess we need to get you your own tube, then, don’t we? because i love you, but i’m not sharing mine,” you tell him, watching his head raise in excitement, bright eyes latched onto yours.

“really?” he eagerly asks you.

you shake your head at him. “mhmm. if it’s pink sugar gloss you want, it’s pink sugar gloss you get. c’mon, we have a pit stop to make on the way home,” you stand, arranging the signed receipt and tip where the server could see it.

quinn bolts out of his own chair, practically skipping over to you in happiness.

when you walk out of the beauty store 20 minutes later, three tubes of pink sugar lip balm richer, you laugh at how quinn all but runs to the car, sitting down in the drivers seat and flipping the mirror down, applying the sweet salve to his lips.

“how do i look,” he turns his head towards you, puckering his lips dramatically.

you giggle at the action, loving how excited he is to have his own lip gloss to wear. “sweet enough to kiss,” you respond through your laugh.

the words earn you another small kiss, feeling the tackiness of both of your lips smearing together, tasting the sweetness he said reminded him of your kisses.

he gives you a toothy grin before settling back in and starting the car, ready to go back to his apartment and spend the rest of his day off with you. he pauses right before he merges into traffic, though.

“just…do me favor,” he looks over at you, almost worried looking. “don’t tell guys about this,” he references his teammates, knowing they’d have a lot to say about their captain wearing matching lip gloss with his girl.

“wouldn’t dream of it, sugar lips,” you wink at him, earning a small groan from him, another laugh erupting out of you.

[marsdql]

𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓭 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 :‹

Pairing: Boyfriend!Heeseung × girlfriend!fem!reader

Synopsis: Another heated argument with you and your boyfriend Heeseung, making it your last straw. You thought it was the end for a while after leaving, until one day..

Genre/warnings: angst to fluff, toxic relationship, a lot of back and forth, idk ok.. | wc: 2k

𝙈𝙖𝙧’𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚: This has been in my drafts for a while so I had to let it out. I’ve been writing SOOO MUCH HEESEUNG FICS ITS CRAZY omg. I promise diff are coming I’m js so brain dead on what to write and I don’t get requests..😁 Jake ff coming out Friday nov15 for his birthday tho!! anyway go enjoy :>

The argument started innocently enough. You were waiting for Heeseung at a party you’d been planning to attend together, but he never showed. You called, texted, and waited for hours, but he never responded. When you finally got home and found him there, acting as if nothing had happened, something inside you snapped.

“What’s wrong with you?” you demanded, slamming the door behind you. “I waited for you all night, Hee! Do you know how embarrassing it was, standing there by myself while everyone kept asking where you were?”

He looked up from his phone, barely acknowledging your presence. “I told you I wasn’t sure if I could make it.”

“You told me you wanted to be there,” you shot back, anger rising in your chest. “But you didn’t even call, Heeseung! You just left me there, like I didn’t matter at all.”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips. “Why are you making this such a big deal? It was just one night.”

“Because this isn’t the first time!” Your voice shook as you threw your bag onto the couch, barely able to contain your frustration. “You keep doing this—promising me you’ll show up, then bailing like it’s nothing. Do you even care about this relationship anymore?”

“Here we go again,” he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for you to hear. “You’re always turning everything into a personal attack.”

You clenched your fists, trying to hold back tears of frustration. “Maybe if you actually made an effort, I wouldn’t feel like I have to ‘attack’ you. I’m so tired of being the only one fighting to keep us together.”

Heeseung scoffed, throwing his phone down on the table. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re some saint here. You’re always complaining, always finding something wrong with what I do or don’t do. It’s exhausting.”

“Exhausting?” The word stung, and you felt a pang of anger so sharp it made you shake. “So you’re saying I’m exhausting?”

“Yeah, maybe you are,” he snapped, meeting your gaze with a hard look you’d never seen from him before. “Maybe this whole thing is just… too much. You’re always so needy, always wanting more. Maybe I can’t give you what you want.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the words hitting harder than he knew. “Needy?” you repeated, voice trembling. “I don’t think it’s needy to want the person I love to actually show up for me. But maybe you’re right—maybe I’m asking too much from someone who clearly doesn’t care.”

“Oh, don’t twist this around like I don’t care,” he shot back. “I have my own life, my own problems. Everything doesn’t revolve around you.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You’re the one who’s been pulling away, Heeseung. You’re the one who’s been acting like I’m some burden you have to carry. I’m just asking you to meet me halfway, but you can’t even do that, can you?”

Heeseung’s expression hardened, and for a moment, you saw something cold flicker in his eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to meet you halfway,” he said, each word cutting deeper than the last. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending like this is something it’s not.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart sinking as his words settled over you. “So… what, then? You’re tired of me?”

“Maybe I am,” he said, his tone bitter. “Maybe I’m tired of constantly being made to feel like I’m not enough, like no matter what I do, it’s never good enough for you.”

You felt your chest tighten, a tear slipping down your cheek despite your efforts to hold it back. “I just wanted you to try, Heeseung. To actually care enough to make an effort.”

“And I just wanted you to stop making me feel like a failure,” he shot back, his voice raising. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to constantly feel like you’re not measuring up? You keep pushing and pushing, and it’s like nothing I do will ever be enough for you.”

“Then why didn’t you say that?” you yelled, feeling your anger and heartbreak twisting together into something raw and painful. “Why did you let me keep believing that you wanted this, that you wanted us?”

“Because I thought I did,” he said, voice cracking as he looked away. “But lately… I don’t know. Maybe we’ve both just been holding on to something that isn’t there anymore.”

His words shattered something deep inside you, a pain so intense it felt almost physical. You took a shaky breath, struggling to find the right words. “So that’s it?” you whispered. “You’re just… giving up?”

Heeseung’s gaze softened, but he didn’t move toward you. “I’m just… tired of hurting you,” he said quietly. “And tired of feeling like I’m the problem. I can’t keep doing this.”

You looked away, unable to bear the sight of him standing there, so calm, as if he hadn’t just destroyed everything you’d built together. “Fine,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “If that’s how you feel… then maybe we shouldn’t keep doing this.”

For a moment, you thought he might say something, that he might reach out, try to fix the damage that had been done. But he didn’t move, didn’t say a word, just watched as you picked up your things and turned toward the door.

“Goodbye, Heeseung,” you said, your voice barely audible as you walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As you closed the door behind you, you realized that you had been holding on to a version of him that no longer existed, a love that had withered in the space between unmet expectations and unspoken resentments. And the realization hurt more than anything he could have said, because now you knew that sometimes love simply isn’t enough.

Weeks had passed since that night, but the pain still sat heavy in your chest, a constant reminder of the words you both threw like daggers. You had told yourself it would get easier—that eventually, you’d stop replaying the fight over and over, picking apart every sentence, wondering if you could have said or done something differently.

But every time you closed your eyes, you could still see him standing there, looking at you with that mixture of anger and something else—something you couldn’t name.

Tonight, you found yourself sitting in a quiet café, stirring a mug of coffee you hadn’t touched. You’d come here hoping the change of scenery would help, but all it did was bring memories crashing back, drowning you in thoughts you had been trying so hard to escape. And then, as if fate had a cruel sense of humor, the doorbell chimed, and there he was.

Heeseung.

He hadn’t seen you yet, and you almost turned away, almost gathered your things to leave before he noticed. But some part of you—maybe it was the part that hadn’t stopped missing him, the part that still ached for him despite everything—stayed rooted in place.

As if sensing your presence, Heeseung looked up, his eyes widening slightly when they met yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, both frozen in the shared silence. Finally, he took a breath and walked over, his steps hesitant, as if he, too, was unsure of how this would go.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than you remembered, almost as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile.

“Hi,” you replied, your own voice barely above a whisper.

He sat down across from you, and for a moment, the two of you just sat in silence, both unsure of where to start. The tension was thick, memories of the fight still hanging heavily between you.

“I… I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

“I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you replied, your tone guarded.

Heeseung looked down at the table, then back up at you, his eyes searching yours. “I’ve been thinking about… that night. About the things we both said.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you swallowed hard, nodding slightly. “Me too,” you admitted, voice trembling.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “I know that’s probably hard to believe after everything, but… I never wanted things to end up like that.”

“Then why did you let it get to that point?” you whispered, the hurt and confusion you’d been carrying pouring out before you could stop it. “Why didn’t you just talk to me, Heeseung? Why did you make me feel like I was the problem?”

He sighed, looking down at his hands. “Because… because I didn’t know how to tell you that I was struggling. I thought I was supposed to handle everything on my own, and I didn’t want to burden you with my issues. But in trying to protect you, I pushed you away, and that’s on me.”

His admission cracked something open inside you, and you felt a surge of conflicting emotions—relief, sadness, anger. “I would’ve been there for you, Heeseung. All I wanted was to be there for you.”

“I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I realize that now. I just… I guess I was scared. Scared of being vulnerable. Scared of letting you see the parts of me that I’ve always tried to hide.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn’t bother to wipe it away. “You didn’t have to be perfect for me, Heeseung. I never wanted that. I just wanted you.”

He reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering over yours, and for a moment, you thought he might pull back. But then, slowly, he took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, warm and familiar.

“I don’t know if I can fix what I broke,” he said quietly, his eyes full of regret. “But… if there’s still a part of you that wants to try, I’d do anything to make it right.”

You looked down at his hand, the memories of all the times you’d held each other, all the promises you’d once shared. Part of you wanted to say yes, to let yourself fall back into the warmth of him, to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different this time.

But another part of you remembered the pain—the nights spent wondering if you were enough, the feeling of constantly fighting to hold onto someone who kept slipping away.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again, Heeseung,” you said, voice breaking. “You hurt me so much. I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, desperation flashing in his eyes. “I know I messed up, and I know it might take a long time to earn back your trust. But if there’s even the smallest part of you that thinks we could make this work… I promise I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Silence settled between you, thick with emotion, as you weighed his words. You knew that forgiveness wouldn’t come easily, that the scars from that night would always be there, etched into your heart. But looking at him now, at the vulnerability in his eyes, you saw a glimpse of the Heeseung you’d fallen in love with—the one who had once made you feel like you were his whole world.

Taking a shaky breath, you met his gaze. “If we do this… it can’t be like before. We both have to be honest with each other, even when it’s hard. No more hiding, no more pretending.”

He nodded, a look of relief washing over his face. “I promise,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “No more hiding.”

Slowly, cautiously, you let yourself smile, a small glimmer of hope flickering in your chest. It would be a long road, full of challenges and doubts, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to each other.

And this time, you’d fight for each other—together.

Reblogs and feedback appreciated, thank u ! DIVIDER CREDITS: @anitalenia

[ marsdql ]

[greengoblinswifey]

i need more fratboy Nicholas! Something with his ex girlfriend and the reader get jealous? I dont know, i just love youuuu ❤️

warnings— slight angst, jealous!reader, possessiveness, oral(f), bondage, praise kink, overstimulation, hair pulling, degrading kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff, L bombs.

a/n— lyt xx creating this fratboy!nicholas au was the best decision i made, requests are so open for it <33

Nicholas had always been the easygoing guy who somehow managed to calm you down and make you feel safe. But right now, he was inches away from losing that place with you. When you had left the library, you hadn’t expected that run-in with his ex—Amber, of all people. The way she had looked at you, sizing you up, then moved right in on your spot next to him, laughing too loud and touching his arm, was enough to make your blood boil. But you kept it together, stormed off, and left Nicholas to figure things out on his own.

Later that evening, you were still fuming. When Nicholas missed your first call, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. He never missed your calls. And then he finally picked up the second call, sounding cheerful—until you went straight to the point.

“Why didn’t you answer the first time?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“I was in the bathroom,” he said, sounding caught off guard. “I- I left my phone with Amber.”

Your heart sank, but your voice stayed steady. “Amber? As in, the girl I saw today?”

He hesitated, confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, she’s my ex, but it’s really nothing.”

You didn’t bother responding—you just hung up, leaving him in dead silence.

Not even five minutes later, there was frantic pounding on your door. When you opened it, there stood Nicholas, breathing hard, looking both apologetic and scared. He tried to take your hand, but you crossed your arms, blocking the doorway.

“Please hear me out, I’m sorry,” he started, his words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t want her there, okay? She- She just showed up, and I didn’t know how to get her to leave. I swear, I was only focused on studying—she was the one doing all the talking.”

You gave him a hard stare. “So, what if something happened to me, Nicholas? What if I needed you and you were off letting your fucking ex hold onto your phone?”

He looked down, guilt written across his face. “There’s no excuse,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll never talk to her again, I didn’t even want her there. She’s just very persistent.”

The look in his eyes told you he was genuinely worried. He knew he’d messed up, and he was desperate to make it right. But that didn’t mean you were just going to let it slide. You narrowed your eyes at him, sizing him up as he stood in front of you, looking almost as if he was expecting you to throw him out.

Then, without saying a word, you grabbed him by the belt, pulling him inside and pushing him onto the bed. He looked up at you, startled, the hint of a smirk creeping onto his face as he realized where this was going.

You leaned over him, still glaring, your voice firm. “You’re mine, Nicholas. Remember that. And next time, you won’t even think about letting anyone else close to you. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper, eyes wide and sincere. “I swear. I just—I only want you.”

You finally let a smile break through as you leaned down and captured his lips, letting him know you were still his—at least for now. The thought of Amber seeing his lock screen, a picture of Nicholas kissing your neck, your arms around each other made the anger in you settle, just a bit.

Your smile widened even more seeing him hard already when all you did was kiss him.

“Hard already huh?” you began, “is it for me or that white bitch?”

“You, I’m always hard for you and you only,” he said, looking up at you with pleading eyes, “please, can I touch you?”

You thought for a moment. “You don’t deserve to touch me, but I need your mouth on me.”

He stared up at you in desperation as you pulled out a small rope from under your bed. “Give me your hands.” He complied and though you wanted to punish him, you decided to tie his arms in front of him to make it a bit easier for him to pleasure you. “Good boy, now you can get to eat me out without touching me.”

Slowly, you stripped yourself of your clothing and he watched in awe, wishing he had his hands all over you. He wished he could squeeze your ass, grope your tits and trace his hands over your curves. Why did he have to fuck up so bad.

You pulled him up by his tied wrists and took his place on the bed, spreading your legs as he went on his knees, his mouth immediately on your pussy.

“Y-you taste amazing, but it’s so- so hard to make you feel good with my hands tied,” he whined.

“I’m doing fine and I’m feeling good, shut up and keep going.” You rolled your eyes and pushed his head back into your pussy.

His soft little whines made you throb as you clenched around his tongue, already feeling the impending orgasm.

“You’re close aren’t you baby? Mm— please cum on my tongue,” he said, struggling to keep himself up as he ate you out like you were his last meal.

You grabbed his hair roughly making him wince and began grinding your pussy on his face.

“Don’t let a drop go to waste,” you moaned.

Ever so obedient, Nicholas slurped and swallowed your juices as you squirted on his face. He loved how wet you got when you were turned on. How everything flowed from you so beautifully.

“Did I do good?” he asked, his lips pouty and his cheeks red.

“Hm, maybe, maybe not,” you answered, pulling him up by his hair.

He gasped as you shoved him onto the bed, pulling off his clothes with great force.

“You’re kinda scaring me baby,” he laughed nervously.

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before hanging with your ex.”

He pouted but watched intently as you straddled him, your tits he loved so much but couldn’t touch recoiling in his face.

“I’m really really sorry I— oh.” His desperate apology was cut off by a deep whimper as you sank down onto his thick cock waiting you.

“That’s right, shut the fuck up,” you smirked. You began bouncing and moving your hips, grinding on him using the move that drove him absolutely insane. His head was spinning, his breath was caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back from just bursting the rope and having his hands all over you.

But he resisted. He wanted nothing more than to be your good boy, taking whatever you gave him.

“That’s my good boy,” you moaned. Exactly the words he wanted to hear. Your movements slowed, allowing him to feel every pulse of your pussy. He could feel your juices slide down his shaft making his head all foggy.

“Please,” he whimpered, tears pricking his eyes, “I really need to cum.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you held on to him, leaning forward to keep your rhythm steady and relentless. His breathing turned ragged, eyes squeezed shut, and he barely held on as you bounced, picking up the pace just as he began to tremble beneath you.

“Please… I can’t—” he gasped, voice low and shaky, a hint of desperation cutting through.

But you just smirked, ignoring his pleas as you moved faster, chasing your own release. His hands gripped your waist, fingers flexing as he tried to keep himself grounded.

“You’re fine,” you whispered against his ear, letting your lips brush his skin. “Just a little longer.”

He whimpered at that, his hands tightening, but he didn’t dare stop you, too captivated and too close to deny you anything. The sensation built until you finally tensed, gasping his name softly as your own release washed over you.

Nicholas was close, barely holding on as he whispered, “Please… please… can I—”

“Go ahead,” you murmured, stilling just enough to give him that last bit of control, and he let go, his eyes closing as he got lost into his own release inside you just as you did, his relief echoing in his voice as he whispered your name.

Nicholas’ voice was barely a whisper, his words pouring out between heavy breaths. “Thank you baby, thank you,” he said frantically, as if he couldn’t say it enough. His wrists, now free from the restraints, flexed as he looked up at you with a mixture of awe and relief.

“Can I, um, can I touch you now?” he asked softly, almost hesitant. You tilted your head, pretending to consider, then gave a small nod.

“I guess you’ve earned it,” you teased, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Without another word, his hands cupped your cheeks, rough and warm, pulling you close as he kissed you, slow and full of gratitude. His fingers brushed along your skin like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you to know how much he meant every word he was about to say.

“I’m sorry about—everything with my ex today. I’ll make sure it never happens again,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. He took a shaky breath. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, you know that?”

The weight of his confession hung between you, and you felt your heart skip, unable to hide the surprise in your eyes. For a second, all you could do was look at him, his gaze so open, so vulnerable. Finally, you reached up, your hands resting over his.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words coming easily, like they’d always been there. His face softened, and he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as if he’d never let go.

You lay there together, tangled up in each other, his hands trailing gentle patterns along your back as your fingers combed through his hair. The quiet was warm, comforting, filled with a new closeness as you held each other, both savoring the rare, unguarded moment.

[meetmypointlessaddiction]

anything for love (but I won't do that) | l.howlett

Summary: you wake Logan up real early in the morning and he isn't too happy but for you, he'll do anything

Warnings: none that I can think of

You were always on the go, Logan knew that when he started dating you. What he wasn’t prepared for was the constant early morning wake ups. 

“Logan? You sleeping?” You whispered, knowing the man was a light sleeper. 

“Mhm. Go back to bed, bub.” He grumbled and pulled you closer, resting his head on yours. 

“Can’t. Brain won’t let me.” You complained, relaxing in his arms as he groaned. 

“Close your eyes and shut up. That’s normally a good place to start.” That seems to get you to sleep again or so Logan thinks. The peace lasts for about ten minutes before you roll over in his arms to face him and press a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. “I love you but fuck off and go to sleep.”

“Your morning voice is hot. Should use it more often.” You said bluntly, running a finger over his beard as he opened one eye to glare at you. “What? You don’t like me complimenting you?” Logan just huffed and rubbed his eyes tiredly with the arm that wasn’t under my head. 

“It is 5:30am. No. No I do not want compliments right now. I want you to turn your ass back around and let me cuddle you until it is an appropriate time to wake up. Understand?” Logan mumbled and you just looked at him before nodding when he raised one of his eyebrows, signalling that he expected an answer. You rolled back over to face away from him, letting him pull you closer as he buried his face in your neck and pressed gentle kisses there. “Just stay in til 7 bub, that’s early enough.”

“But Logannnn… brain needs something to do.” He huffed and let you get out of bed. “I’m gonna grab a book. That should keep my brain busy right?” Logan just grumbled back some kind of response and rolled on top of you when you got back in bed, his head resting on your stomach. 

You rested the book on the top of his back, one hand holding it while the other fell to his head, running your fingers through his hair, only removing it to turn the page. The book kept you busy for a grand total of 4 minutes and 43 seconds (Logan was counting), before you realised that you had reread the same sentence 4 times and not taken any of it in. Now, you resorted to styling Logan’s horrendous bed head into his usual wolverine ears. 

“Baby. Seriously what the fuck is wrong with you?” Logan looks up at you, half-annoyed, half-amused. He huffs and sits up, glaring at you through half lidded eyes. “Alright, I’m up. 5:37. What do you want to do?” He watched as you thought it over for a few seconds before smiling.

“Let’s go downstairs and make hot chocolate and watch a Christmas movie!” Logan was quick to cover your mouth with a stern look. 

“Just because I didn’t kill your ass for getting me up early doesn’t mean everyone in the damn mansion will take too kindly to your yellin’. Just… let me get changed and we’ll go downstairs alright?” You nodded eagerly, pulling on your own slippers and dressing gown before standing at the bedroom door, waiting for Logan. “Alright, let’s go.”

You were snuggled up under fluffy blankets on the sofa while Logan made you a hot chocolate in the kitchen, grumbling about being “dragged out of bed” and then being “turned into a fuckin’ maid to make hot chocolate”.

“Bub? You want cream and marshmallows on your hot chocolate?” Logan listened out for your response and frowned when he didn’t hear one. He huffed a sigh of annoyance before storming into the living room and seeing you curled up in his shirt and your dressing, bundled up in fluffy blankets, snoring like crazy with drool dripping down your chin. “You have got to be fucking shittin’ me!”  That was the day Logan realised he would do anything for love but never again would he entertain your claims of not being able to go back to sleep and he would certainly not be getting out of bed at 5:37am to make hot fucking chocolate.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed please like a reblog to encourage others to read. If you have any requests don't be scared to ask in the comments or in an ask and I'll try my best to do them.

Dividers: @coolcatsgraphics

[ruewrote]

𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒.

PAIRING: josh washington x gn!reader WARNINGS: josh breaks down to you, no use of y/n GENRE: angst but more fluff SONG INSPIRATION: lay it all on me by rudimental WORD COUNT: 2k REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

it was well past midnight when your phone rang, disturbing the silence of your apartment. you groggily fumbled for it on your nightstand, squinting at the screen. josh. your heart dropped into your stomach.

he never called this late unless something was wrong. the sound of his name, even in the dead of night, was enough to pull you out of sleep.

“josh?” you answered, sitting up, suddenly wide awake.

he didn’t respond immediately. you could hear his breathing, ragged and uneven, like he was struggling to catch his breath. it was enough to send a spike of worry straight through you.

“josh, hey, what’s going on? are you okay?”

“i–” his voice cracked, and the sound broke something inside of you.

“i need you. please… can you come over?”

you were already moving, tossing off your blanket and grabbing your coat from where it hung on the back of your chair. “i’m on my way,” you promised, your voice firm despite the fear creeping into your nerves. “hang tight, okay? i’m on my way right now.”

the drive to his apartment felt like it took hours instead of minutes, the city lights blurring past as you pressed harder on the gas. your mind raced, a thousand scenarios playing out, each one worse than the last. you knew josh had been struggling lately.

old memories resurfacing, the weight of the past dragging him down. but he rarely asked for help, let alone called you in the middle of the night sounding so... broken.

when you finally reached his building, you sprinted up the stairs two at a time, barely pausing to knock before pushing open the door to his apartment. it wasn’t locked, and that only made your chest tighten with worry.

“josh?” you called out into the darkened space. the only light came from the city’s glow through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. you found him in the living room, curled up on the couch, clutching his head in his hands.

he didn’t look up as you approached, but you heard the sharp intake of breath as he realised you were there.

“hey, hey, it’s okay,” you murmured, dropping to your knees in front of him. your hands hovered over his, not wanting to overwhelm him but aching to touch, to comfort. “i’m here now. what happened?”

josh’s head snapped up then, his eyes wild and glassy. “i saw them,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. “they were right here. i swear i could hear them screaming... i can’t–” his words dissolved into a choked sob, he squeezed his eyes shut as if that could block out the images.

your heart clenched painfully at the sight of him like this, so raw and vulnerable. you’d seen josh put on his bravado before, cracking jokes and averting how he was feeling by making sure everyone else was okay. but this was different. this was the real him, laid bare and hurting, and it killed you to see the man you loved like this.

without thinking, you reached out, cupping his cheek in your hand. he flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“they’re not here, josh,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone. “it’s just us. you’re safe.”

he shook his head violently, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. “no, i can still see them. it’s like they’re… they’re blaming me. i can feel it.”

“look at me,” you pleaded, moving closer until you were almost nose to nose, your other hand finding it’s way to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “it’s not real. it feels real, i know, but you’re here with me now. you made it through, josh. you survived.”

“i shouldn’t have,” he rasped, his eyes welling with fresh tears. “they didn’t, and i did. why do i get to be here when they don’t?”

“because you deserve to be,” you said sternly, letting the words hang in the space between you. you swallowed thickly, the love you held for him swelling in your chest, making your voice tremble. “i know you don’t believe that right now, but i do. and i’m not leaving you to fight this alone.”

his eyes searched yours desperately, looking for something to hold on to. “why are you here?” he asked, the question slipping out so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. “why do you keep coming back?”

you exhaled shakily, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue. you’d been hiding it for so long, burying your feelings under layers of friendship and concern, but now, looking at him like this, it felt right to tell him the truth.

“because i love you, josh,” you confessed, your voice breaking. “because i can’t stand to see you like this and not do anything about it. i love you, even when you’re hurting like this, especially when you’re hurting like this.”

for a moment, everything went still. you could hear the rain pounding against the windows, the distant murmur of the city outside. but between the two of you, there was only silence, a tense, fragile thing that felt like it might shatter with the next breath.

something in his expression softened, and his hands reached out, grasping your wrists like he was afraid you might slip away. “you love me?” he whispered.

“i do,” you nodded, feeling tears stinging your own eyes now. “and i’m not going anywhere. not tonight, not ever. i’m here, josh. i’ve got you.”

he let out a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. you clung to him just as tightly, feeling the way his body shook against yours, the way his breath hitched as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“you’re too good to me,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

“no,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple, lingering there as you stroked his hair. “i’m just what you need.”

for the first time that night, you felt him relax, the tension slowly draining from his body as he melted into your embrace. you held him there, rocking gently, whispering soothing words until his breathing evened out, his grip on you loosening but not letting go.

“i’m here,” you repeated, the promise sinking into the silence of the room. “i’m not letting go.”

and you meant it, more than anything you’d ever said before.

the tension in josh’s body slowly faded away in your arms, replaced by a heavy, exhausted weight as the last of his sobs quieted. he clung to you as though you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the present, to reality. 

his breathing was still ragged, but it had started to even out, the frantic edge fading into something softer.

you shifted a little, your fingers still tracing up and down his back, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “let’s get you to bed,” you murmured, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

josh tensed for a moment, he wasn’t ready to let go, but when you started to pull back. he released you reluctantly. he wiped at his eyes with the heel of his hand, sniffling. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small and raw. “i didn’t mean to–”

“hey,” you cut him off, cupping his cheek and guiding his gaze back to yours. “you don’t have to apologise, not for this. you needed me, and i came. that’s all.”

he nodded, swallowing hard, his eyes glistening in the dim light of the room. you took his hand, squeezing it gently as you helped him to his feet. he swayed a little, unsteady, and you tightened your grip, steadying him. his fingers intertwined with yours almost as if he was afraid to let go, and it made your heart ache.

“c’mon,” you said softly, guiding him toward his bedroom. you led him to the bed, pulling back the covers before easing him down. he sank into the mattress, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made you want to wrap him up and shield him from everything that had ever hurt him.

you tucked the blanket around him, smoothing your hand over his chest as if you could soothe away the remnants of his panic. his eyes fluttered shut at the touch, a shiver running through him.

you slipped off your shoes and climbed into bed beside him, the mattress dipping under your weight. he rolled onto his side, facing you, and without thinking, you reached out, your fingers threading through his hair again. you combed through the soft, messy strands, gentle and rhythmic, he let out a deep sigh, finally letting himself start to relax.

you began to hum quietly, the familiar tune of a lullaby you knew he loved. a song you’d sung together on countless road trips, or played during quiet moments when the world outside didn’t matter. you felt the tension melt away from his body bit by bit, his sniffles becoming further apart, until they were just occasional, quiet sounds.

josh’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing slowing, you thought he might be asleep. you kept stroking his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy. the love you felt for him was a tangible thing, filling up the space between you, wrapping around him like a blanket.

you pressed one last, lingering kiss to his forehead, lingering just a moment longer than you probably should have.

“goodnight, josh,” you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with a tenderness you could no longer hide.

you waited a beat, your heart squeezing in your chest, before slowly beginning to pull back. you slipped out from under the covers, careful not to wake him as you swung your legs over the side of the bed. you had just managed to stand up when you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“don’t go,” josh mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. his grip on your wrist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you there, to keep you from leaving. “please stay.”

you turned back to him, your eyes meeting his. he looked up at you, his face half buried in the pillow, his eyes glassy and pleading. “i… i don’t want to be alone.”

your resolve crumbled in an instant. how could you possibly leave him when he needed you like this? 

you squeezed his hand in return, you nodded. 

the way he looked at you, the raw plea in his voice... you couldn’t say no.

“of course,” you whispered, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. “i’ll stay as long as you need.”

you crawled back into bed, settling beside him, and this time when you wrapped your arms around him, he pressed closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. his breath was warm against your skin, a soft, steady rhythm that matched the beating of your heart.

he let out a contented sigh, his entire body relaxing against yours. “thank you,” he breathed, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it.

you kissed the top of his head, your fingers resuming their soothing pattern through his hair. “you don’t have to thank me,” you replied. “i’m right where i want to be.”

he didn’t say anything after that, just nuzzled closer, the last of his sniffles fading into silence. you felt his breathing slow, becoming deep and even, and it wasn’t long before you could tell he was asleep.

you kept combing your fingers through his hair, even as your own eyes grew heavy, the sound of his steady breaths lulling you into a peaceful drowsiness.

you’d meant to stay awake, to make sure he was okay, but the warmth of his body against yours, the comfort of having him so close, made it impossible. you pressed one last kiss to his forehead, a silent promise that you weren’t going anywhere, before letting your eyes flutter shut.

and for the first time in a long time, you both fell asleep easily.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ @joshwashingtonmybeloved

© ruewrote 2024.

[unhingedangstaddict]

The bucktommy mpreg brainrot is so real wtf. I never thought in a million years I'd write an mpreg fic and well,,,

Here's my latest wip

Tommy was sitting on the bathroom floor next to the toliet again, crying for no reason again. He was so sick of the spontaneous crying and worse he didn’t even know why he was crying. Tommy had cried after the break-up, but he’d mostly stopped after two-ish weeks. He was sick of feeling the way he’d felt all week- horrifically nauseous and tired no matter how much he slept.

Tommy was so caught up in his wallowing and his crying that he didn’t hear Lucy enter the house, didn’t notice her standing in the doorway to the ensuite. He only noticed her when she set a plastic bag from a drug store down at his feet.

Tommy sniffled and looked up at Lucy. “I’m starting to regret giving you a key.” He wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“Is it really so terrible having someone look out for you?” Lucy crossed her arms.

Tommy was quiet.

“Thought so.” Lucy nodded.

Tommy curiously reached for the bag and looked inside.

“First time ever for me, the women's version of something was cheaper than the mens version. It’s the exact same thing, just different colored packaging.” Lucy said nonchalantly.

Tommy hardly registered what Lucy was saying as he plucked the box out of the bag. A three pack of pregnancy tests. In an instant it felt like his world had been flipped on it’s axis.

There was no way this was actually happening, but if he was- if Lucy was right about this, it would make sense. The headaches, the fatigue, the random crying, the nausea and vomiting- morning sickness. Now that Tommy thought about it, it seemed like his sense of smell had maybe been heightened the last week or so too.

“If I’m way out of line here Tommy, just tell me, it’s fine. I’ll keep ‘em for next time I have a scare.” Lucy offered.

Tommy swallowed thickly. His mind and heart were racing. This couldn’t be happening.

“Tommy?” Lucy prompted.

“I don’t know.” Tommy said quietly. Clearly Lucy had been thinking about this at least since they were on the phone not that long ago. Her suggestion to drink something made even more sense now. Tommy couldn’t believe this was his life.

“What- what do you mean you don’t know?” Lucy asked.

“I never uh, I never got tested to see if I’m a carrier.” Tommy couldn't take his eyes off the box of pregnancy tests.

“You’re joking right?” Lucy sounded shocked or maybe even pissed.

Tommy shook his head.

“How could you be so irresponsible?” Lucy questioned. “You- I can’t believe you never got tested. I can understand not getting tested as a kid with your dad being the way he is but Tommy, you’re- you sleep with men! How could you not get tested?”

Tommy spoke with a monotone voice, head clearly elsewhere. “Parents never bothered. Then I was in denial about being gay and thought I could make myself fall in love with a woman. Then it didn’t matter because I was never serious enough to ditch condoms. Then it didn’t matter when I was serious enough to ditch condoms because I was almost exclusively the top and I was too old. The thought never even crossed my mind in all the time I was with Evan.”

“Oh my god Tommy.” Lucy mumbled.

“I know.” Tommy swallowed thickly. “I guess I have to take one of these now, huh?”

“I’d recommend all three, actually.” Lucy told him. “These things aren’t the most reliable, always a chance of false negatives or positives, so it’s best to take more than one test but if you take two and get two different results then you won’t feel any better or worse than you did before taking them, until you take another. So three at once.”

“Sounds like you know from experience.” Tommy looked up at Lucy.

“I’m a woman who does not exclusively sleep with other women.” Lucy shrugged.

Lucy left the bathroom so Tommy could take the tests, and as soon as he was finished he set them on the counter, opened the door for Lucy, started a timer, and sat back down on the floor again, not confident that he wasn’t going to throw up again at any moment.

Lucy came in and sat next to Tommy on the floor. Just by looking at him she could tell he wasn’t in the mood to talk and for the time being she knew everything she needed to know. Tommy hadn’t even thought about the possibility of this so Lucy was certain that Tommy had no idea what he’d want to do about it- if Tommy was pregnant it was undoubtedly Evan’s, and Tommy was scared and heartbroken right now. Instead of talking Lucy just took his hand and held onto it.

Three minutes felt like an eternity, and if it wasn’t for Lucy holding onto Tommy’s hand, he was sure he would’ve completely lost his grip on reality. He distantly heard the timer on his phone going off, followed by Lucy giving his hand a squeeze. Tommy stopped the timer. He couldn’t look at the tests. He couldn’t move. “Can you look?” He rasped.

“Of course.” Lucy said gently. She stood, not letting go of Tommy’s hand and looked at the tests on the counter. There were two visual tests and one digital test with a weeks along indicator.

The visual tests both showed plus signs, meaning the tests were positive.

The digital test read ‘Pregnant 3+’, meaning three or more weeks along.

“Luce?” Tommy’s grip on her hand tightened.

“Positive.” Lucy told him.

“All of them?” Tommy wondered.

“All three.” Lucy nodded.

Tommy nodded slowly. “Okay.” He whispered as tears stung his eyes and quickly began to fall.

Lucy squeezed Tommy’s hand and returned to her spot on the floor next to him.

Tommy pulled his knees to his chest, rested the arm that wasn’t holding Lucy’s hand on his knees, put his head down, and sobbed for so many reasons it felt like there wasn’t even a reason to be crying at all.

[sarahsmi13s]

Please, Be in the Chair, Dad

Tell Them Universe

pairings: jake 'hangman' seresin x wife!reader

characters: jake seresin, y/n seresin, grayson seresin, kennedy seresin

warnings: third person pov, parents fighting, arguing, mentions of canon dangers of being a pilot, anxiety, please let me know if missed anything

word count: ~1.5k

a/n: this is based on a request! thank you @tia--2323 'Tell Them' Universe

summary: the first time grayson stood up for his mom

Grayson sat on the couch, trying his best to flip through the channels and find something to watch. He had been tasked with keeping Kennedy occupied while his parents talked in the other room.

He wasn’t quite sure what his mom and dad were talking about, but apparently it was very much an adult conversation – given that they told him to take his sister to the living room and turn on the TV. The volume was turned up loud enough that it muffled the sounds of the conversation, but didn’t totally drown it out.

While he had been raised to respect privacy and not eavesdrop on conversations, Grayson couldn’t help it this time. When Y/N told him to take Kennedy to the living room, her voice sounded tired and strained. It roused a fear in his stomach, an unsettling churning somewhere in him that told him he needed to pay attention to this one.

Eavesdropping one time wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“Jake, all that I’m asking is that you stay home! I know you’ve been working late, I know that. But one night, that’s all I’m asking.” His mom’s voice was desperate – pleading even.

And she was right, Jake had been working late. He was coming home well after dinner completely exhausted. Y/N was staying up after bathtime, putting Kennedy to bed and sending Grayson to his room to wind down before bed.

“Y/N, it’ll just be one drink. I should be back in time for bedtime,” Jake said, his tone bordering on dismissive. It made Grayson ear twitch, his fingers making quick work to turn the volume down.

“The kids miss you, Jake – I miss you.” There were tears in his mother’s voice as she spoke, a punch to his gut. He hates that sound, the sound of his mom hurting.

Grayson’s stomach dropped in anticipation, straining his ear to hear what his dad had to say. Jake had always been good with conversations, at least that Grayson is aware of. So surely his dad wouldn’t say anything to make his mom feel worse.

Right?

“You miss me?”

The tone in his father's voice made Grayson sit up straight. He didn’t like that.

“Yes! Of course I miss you! You’re my husband for God’s sake. I’m not trying to control you or saying I don’t trust you. I just want you at home.”

“Then I need you to show me. Because to be honest, home doesn’t feel much like home lately.”

“I do show you, Jake. Every night, I’m waiting for you to get home so you can have dinner. I sit with you even though I am exhausted because I love you and I want to hear about your day. If I didn’t miss you, I wouldn’t do that,” Y/N drew in a shaky inhale, tears closing her throat as she tried not to sob out the last sentence. “And you’re right, home doesn’t feel like home – because you’re not here.”

If his mama’s broken, tearfilled voice didn’t push him off the couch, what Jake tried to pull next certainly would have.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now? You know damn well-”

“Don’t talk to my mom like that.”

Both of his parents looked at him, watching his moves carefully as he put his 12 year-old frame in front of his mother’s. 

“Gray-”

“No, Mama, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that,” Grayson said, feeling bad for interrupting her but knowing that he couldn’t let his dad get away with the tone he used.

Grayson fixated his eyes on Jake’s, the similar shades of green meeting each other in a battle.

“You may be the adult here, Dad,” he almost spit the name out, almost mocking the authority it held. “But I’m the son that isn’t letting anyone disrespect his mom, especially not her husband. Not the man that’s supposed to love her.”

Despite the anger in his throat, a twinge of anxiety roused in his chest. He wasn’t worried about anything getting physical, even now he knew his dad would never raise a hand to him. But he didn’t want a verbal argument to ensue, scaring his mom and his baby sister. 

But, all Jake did was cross his arms, nodding for Grayson to continue.

It didn’t quell the anxiety, but it helped Grayson to stand up straighter and hold his ground a little firmer.

“I’m here every night. I’ve sat at that table every night for the last eight months and stared at an empty chair. I watched Mom check her phone habitually, waiting for a text or a call from you. Do you know how often she checked the door? Praying a chaplain wasn’t about to ring the bell? How many times I got to the mailbox first so she didn’t have to be the first one to see the letter telling her you weren’t coming home?”

Tears stung Grayson’s eyes and he clicked his jaw as he shook his head. “No one is saying you not being home is your fault. We understand that this is your job. But please, be in the chair, Dad. One night, please.” 

Grayson’s vision was slightly blurry, tears clouding his vision as he looked his dad over. He wasn’t sure what to expect from him now. 

Jake’s jaw flexed before he cleared his throat. He looked at the floor, hiding his face as his eyes began watering as well. He sniffled, his arms uncrossing so he could put his hands on his hips.

“Okay…”

A weight lifted off of Grayson’s chest and he let the tears fall. He nodded, not bothering to hide his feelings as his voice cracked. “Thank you…” 

And, while he was glad he was able to get through to Jake, the issue wasn’t resolved yet.

“Please apologize.”

Jake nodded and patted Grayson on the shoulder, letting him know it was okay to stand down. Grayson took the hint and stepped to the side, his arms now crossing over his chest as he watched his parents interact. He wasn’t going to leave until he knew his mom was okay.

Y/N looked up at Jake, a waiting but patient look on her face. Her arms stayed wrapped around her stomach, clearly still upset.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t fix it and I can’t make excuses. Grayson’s right. I shouldn’t talk to you like that. Not when you do so much for me, for this family. I was out of line, accusing you like that. I’m sorry, I’ll work on it. I love you.” 

Y/N nodded, sniffling as they pulled each other into a hug. “Thank you, Honey. I love you, too.” Jake kissed her head, holding his lips there with his fingers in her hair. “Why don’t you go pick out a movie? I want to talk to Grayson for a minute, we’ll be in there in a moment.” She nodded again and pecked his chest before turning to her son.

“I love you, Gray,” she said softly before hugging him and kissing his head. He wrapped his arms around her, smiling against her shoulder. “I love you too, Mama.” 

She walked away, shaking out the tension in her hands before wiping her tears and walking to the living room. “Oh, hi baby girl…” Her cheery, motherly tone eased Grayson’s anxieties significantly as he looked at his dad.

Grayson stood up straight, his chest puffing out a little in pride. He didn’t know what Jake was about to say to him, but he would walk away knowing he did the right thing.

Jake leaned against the counter, arms crossed again as he looked at his boots. “That must have been a lot, hearing me talk to your mom like that…” Grayson nodded, his arms crossing as well, “Yes sir. You shouldn’t talk to someone you love that way. Even in arguments.” 

His dad nodded, looking up at him. “You’re right, they shouldn’t. Thank you for reminding me of that.” Jake rubbed his jaw, sniffling a little. “I know you know that life won’t always work out that way, and me and your mom won’t always say the kindest things to each other – it doesn’t mean we love each other any less. I’ll spare you that talk, for now.” 

“I know,” Grayson said softly, an airy sigh behind his words. “But I don’t like it when she cries. And you shouldn’t be the one making her cry, Dad.” 

“You’re right. And I’ll work on it. I’m tired and I’m stressed, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have used that tone, I was only making us both more stressed.”

Jake stood up straight, grunting a little as he clapped a hand down on Grayson’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I’m proud of you, son. For standing up to me like that, standing up for your mother like that.”

Grayson felt the emotions surge in his chest, his arms falling to his side as he swallowed the lump. “I learned from the best.” 

Jake gave him a watery smile before pulling him into a hug. “I love you, kid.” 

He hugged him back, tightly. “I love you too, Dad.”

it's been awhile since i posted something related to this series! it was really fun jumping back into it! i hope you all enjoyed and i'm so sorry if i missed any tags!

thank you again @tia--2323 for the request! this was so fun to write!

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[wallabywhump]

“So, thinking of texting Buck, huh?”

Tommy looked at the water stain on his ceiling, and reached to pinch the bridge of his nose, before letting out a long sigh. His nose felt stuffy, and his head was aching too much for this. “This really why you’re calling Eddie?”

“Of course it’s why I’m calling, I wanted to know what kind of text you were going to send my buddy.”

Tommy was going to text Evan, ‘I’ve got your stuff if you want it,’ then he’d deleted it.

Then he’d typed, ‘coffee, same place? Saturday?’ and snorted before spending fifteen minutes sobbing in the bathroom pulling tissue after tissue off the roll.

Then he’d typed, ‘I’m so fucking sorry, I know I messed up. I heard the word marriage, I heard admire, I heard move in and it was like I was watching a car crash in front of me and I couldn’t stick around for the aftermath. I needed to run. Run before you realized that this wasn’t what you wanted. Run before you realized that I wasn’t enough. Run before we could both get hurt after two years of living together, and a mortgage, and a funny looking cat that will die six months after you break my heart. And, Evan-’

Tommy had turned his phone off after that one, gone for a run, then watched a movie while shoveling a stupidly cheap Walmart sheet cake into his mouth and sobbing when the mains admitted they loved each other and kissed in the rain.

Then, this morning, drunk off his ass on the good whiskey he usually saved for special occasions, he had typed, ‘I love you, Evan.’

This afternoon, trying his best to not vomit from the light in his bedroom, he’d finally typed, ‘Can we talk?’

Tommy had deleted them all.

“How do you even know?”

 “You were ‘bubbling’ Buck while he was at work.”

Oh.

Well, okay then.

That…implied that Evan was opening their messages…why? Was he expecting a text? Was Evan going to text Tommy? Even after that atrocious break up, and ruining the best thing that had ever happened for him? Did Evan want Tommy…to chase?

Impossible, Tommy put the thought out of his mind.

Tommy swallowed. “Next time I get the urge, I’ll open the notes app.”

Eddie groaned down the line. Tommy could hear the gestations Eddie was making, could see Eddie in his mind’s eye throwing his hand up in the air and turning around in exasperation. “Man, what were you going to say to him?”  

“Does it matter what I have to say?” Tommy snapped, then closed his eyes. “Why are you calling, Ed?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment, long enough that Tommy almost worried he’d been hung up on, but he didn’t want to open his eyes to check.

“I wanted to check on you. I want to check that you’re both going to come out the other side of this. I want to check that you’re not going to cause more hurt.”

Tommy scoffed. “This isn’t my first break up, Eddie, I’ll be fine. And hurting Ev-Buck isn’t on my to-do list.”

“Buck isn’t the only one who can get hurt here.”

Tommy was quiet this time, he could hear the emotion in Eddie’s voice, deep and worried, almost pleading him. With a sigh, Tommy pushed himself to sit up on the bed, ignoring the way it made his head spin.

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy replied, firmly.  

Eddie scoffed, and Tommy could hear him lick his lips, as if ready to start laying it on thicker. Tommy cut it off.

“I will be fine.” I always am, Tommy thought. “So, just, I’ll open my notes app and I’ll stop typing my feelings into iMessage, okay?”

“I…yes.” Eddie sighed. “Fine, you’re fine, we’re fine. Just, don’t text him, okay?”

“I already-.”

“Notes app, I got it, Mr. Fine. I meant, if you’re going to talk to him, know that you’re opening a door there, and sure it’s your job here to fix…whatever happened.” Eddie’s voice was stern, like he was talking to a petulant child that had come out with every excuse in the book. “I’m saying, don’t text him, call him. And don’t leave it too late, Chimney’s trying to encourage pond diving.”

Eddie hung up with that, no good bye, no well wishes. Succinct and gone.

Tommy ran his tongue over his teeth, and stared down at his dark phone screen. Then, to resist temptation, he went to Evan’s contact. He hovered his name over the block button, imagined how much easier it would be if he couldn’t even send the messages he wanted to. Then, he imagined a scenario in the future where Evan needed him and called and Tommy had him blocked and panic surged in his chest, tightening, his eyes watering.

No, he couldn’t.

Instead, Tommy changed the name.

DO NOT USE.

His phone started buzzing with his alarm, telling him to ‘get up for work.’ Tommy threw his phone onto the bed and put it out of his mind.

[sakashq]

Love Drought. jude bellingham x fem!reader

🤍 summary: After his move to Real Madrid, Jude hasn’t been the same loving boyfriend you once had.

🤍 wc: 600+

🤍 warnings: y/n usage. I HATE IT. oh and angst! sorry guys 💕💕💕

🤍 yap! this is based on my current situation i fear 🤦🏾‍♀️🤦🏾‍♀️ i swear this is the last time i’ll bring my ex into my work💔

🤍 my girls <3 EXTRA SPECIAL dedication to @hrts4havertz because she is jude’s wife i fear. and to @ar4ujos @halfwayhearted @iovepoem @joaoflms &&. @planetpedri

Flexibility was always something you were capable of. So when your boyfriend Jude signed a contract for a team in Spain, of course you agreed to make the move for him. You loved the beauty of Spain anyway and ended up residing in the heart of the country. Besides, if things didn’t work out, you would still want to live here. You had made new friends and gotten a better job than the one back in Germany — life was just better in Spain.

Until it came time for him to actually play for the team. With Dortmund, Jude was amazing at balancing both you and his career. But now at this higher-level club, it seemed like he had just pushed you aside and only worried about his new club. It was great that he was focused on making the team proud, but that left zero time for you. Whenever he was home (he was always out with his new teammates), he’d barely acknowledge you and brush things off. Your friends called it the “Madrid curse.” Once signing with the team, they brainwash you. Obviously it was a silly joke, but sometimes it lingered in the back of your mind. Was this club destroying your relationship?

You never brought it up because you didn’t wanna seem selfish. He’s focusing on his career, he’s doing big things! That’s amazing, is it not? If you brought it up, it’d just make you seem like a jealous girlfriend. Even if you kind of were.

It got to the point where dates didn’t happen either. Someone who used to try and take you out once a week now only glanced at you once a week, every other time getting ready for football or hanging out with his new football friends. It was all him, him, him. Never any time for you.

Okay, that’s fine. He’s trying to establish relationships with his new teammates. But what about the relationship he already had? The one with his loving and loyal girlfriend that moved across the continent for him? Why was there no time for her?

For the first time in ages, the two of you were sat on the couch together. You sat away from him, sitting in nothing but silence. He looked over at you, raising a brow.

“What’s the matter with you?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t seem too fine. Talk to me,” he responded, his body now turned and facing you.

You stared blankly at him, unsure if you really wanted to talk to him right now. You sighed, deciding communication was probably needed in this situation. “You barely have time for me anymore. I get it, you’ve joined a new club and you need to bond with your teammates. But do you really need to every night?”

He looked at you, almost as if he was going to laugh. “So you’re jealous of Vini, Aurélien, and Eduardo is what I’m hearing?”

“Jude, I’m being serious.” You looked at him, your face and body language very solemn.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Okay, hear me out. You get ready, dress and wear whatever you want however you want and I take you wherever you wanna go.”

You frowned saying, “You don’t get it. Weeks of craving your attention, and you think it’ll just be resolved by one date. It’s just gonna go back to the way it was afterwards.”

“Well what do you want me to do, Y/n? I’m trying here,” his voice raised a little, startling you. “I can’t make time for Madrid and you.”

Your face dropped, your heart going with it. If you weren’t upset then, you definitely were now. What did he mean by that? “So you could with Dortmund but you can’t now because it’s a slightly bigger club? You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“It’s a lot more draining with Madrid, Y/n. You don’t get it,” he shrugged.

“No, I get it. It’s fine, do what you wanna do. You’re gonna realize how good you had it when it’s gone.” You got up from the couch, grabbing your car keys off the coffee table and heading for the door.

Jude got up, ready to chase after you immediately. “Y/n, come on, we can talk about this. Y/n.”

You opened the door, shutting it behind you. Jude followed not too long after.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. Okay, that was a dickhead move. But you leaving doesn’t solve the problem,” he told you. He had a point, sure, but you were mad at him. No way he was gonna win. He was just worried about whether or not you’d be coming back. He loved you dearly, even if he wasn’t currently showing. You leaving upset with him destroyed him. The thought of something happening to you while you were still mad at him paralysed him. He didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself if something happened.

“Okay, what?” You turned around.

“Come back inside,” he pleaded, his brown eyes begging with him.

Not giving in to his pleas you replied, “No. I can’t get a conversation with you and now you wanna talk. I’m done trying.”

“I know, I know, I fucked up. I didn’t mean what I said, I was just… saying stuff. I don’t want to lose you.” Your heart broke seeing his face, shattering into a million different pieces. Maybe he really wanted to try, or maybe this was just a manipulative move to get you to stay. Either way, you couldn’t help but feel awful. “Please just talk to me.”

You sighed, not responding but walking back over to him. And after a lengthy conversation, everything was okay again. It wasn’t like how it was before, but things were starting to look up. You two agreed to communicate more and take days off just to spend it with each other. After all this, it ended right where it started— the two of you sitting on the coach together, this time with you in his arms.

[creamflix]

sukuna x reader; no implied reader gender. angst with sukuna's version of comfort. established relationship (can be read as concubine, married or otherwise). somewhat existential crisis? mentions of mortality. — masterlist here ☆

being close to sukuna was like brushing against fire; you never knew when the warmth would singe or when his gaze, intense and inscrutable, would pierce through your own walls. you’d carved out a space beside him, something precious and rare, a piece of his vast, ancient life that he allowed you to claim.

but that same vastness haunted you — the reality that he’d lived for centuries, seen empires rise and fall, loved and bedded countless others who now lay forgotten in time’s dust.

one evening, as the two of you sat together, you caught him in one of those rare, quiet moments, his gaze distant, as if looking at something far beyond the present. you could feel the weight of the centuries behind those eyes, and a pang of insecurity tightened in your chest.

“what’s on your mind?” he asked suddenly, snapping out of his reverie, his tone sharp, as though sensing the shift in you.

you hesitated, your words catching on the vulnerability in your throat. “sometimes… i wonder how much of this will really matter to you. when so much time has passed, and we’re nothing more than memories.”

he arched a brow, his eyes narrowing slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“it means…” you took a shaky breath, struggling to put it into words. “you’ve lived for so long, been with so many others. what if one day, i just… fade away? like a passing phase or something insignificant?” your voice faltered, feeling childish for voicing something so small in the shadow of his vast life.

he watched you, expression unreadable, a flicker of something hard to place in his gaze. “you’re worrying about nonsense.”

his words were blunt, laced with a detached logic that felt like it was designed to dismiss your fears rather than comfort them.

“nonsense?” you repeated, frustration sparking in your chest. “to you, maybe. but it’s different for me, sukuna. you’re my… everything. but i’m just a fragment of your endless life.” your voice cracked, and you hated how vulnerable you sounded, like you were peeling open a part of yourself he couldn’t — or wouldn’t — fully understand.

he sighed, as if grappling with the weight of emotions that felt foreign to him. “and what, exactly, do you expect me to say?” his tone was flat, unwilling to give in fully to what he might see as a trivial fear.

“i don’t know, maybe something that… something that doesn’t make me feel like i’m just a temporary distraction to you.” the words were out before you could stop them, spilling over the carefully constructed defenses you’d held up around him.

he clicked his tongue, looking away, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “mortals always want things they can’t have,” he muttered, almost to himself. then, after a beat, he spoke, his voice lower, almost grudging. “i let you stay close, don’t i? you think i let just anyone take up this much space?”

it was as close to reassurance as he’d offer, and you knew that. to him, allowing you in, giving you his time, was a rarity in itself. but the ache in your chest didn’t fade, not entirely.

close wasn’t forever, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that when he finally grew tired of you, he’d simply… move on, as he had countless times before.

he seemed to sense your lingering unease, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly. “do you honestly think i’d waste my time if you were nothing more than a distraction?”

it was a small comfort, hearing him voice that, even if he couldn’t say the words you truly needed. “i guess not,” you whispered, though the uncertainty still curled in your chest, stubborn and unyielding.

he reached out then, one hand slipping around your waist, pulling you closer, his hold firm yet somehow gentle. “then stop worrying,” he murmured, his voice rough, as though unused to trying to reassure anyone but himself.

for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, feeling the weight of his hand against you, grounding you in the present. it wasn’t a promise, not the kind that would last beyond his long years, but it was something. and for now, that was all you could cling to — his presence here, now, even if tomorrow remained uncertain.

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