#etta james will tell you

[hd-wireless]

The Prompts!!

🎵At last The prompts have come along My lonely days are over And life is like a song Oh, yeah, yeah 🎵

Prompting has closed, and here they are AT LAST: all the talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (etc) WIRELESS PROMPTS! Cast your eyes over this inspiring list of brilliant tunes!*

And cast your ears over the songs on this amazing spotify playlist kindly and graciously put together by the tireless @evaeleanor**

And here's the Podfic Prompt list of consented fics to check out. There are 181 fabulous fics to choose from!

Claiming will open on 4th February, so mark that on your calendar! Or set an alarm. Or ask a friend to come and yell at you. Whatever works. And then the song prompt will be yours... at last 💖

And if nothing on here takes your fancy (weird, sounds fake, but okay) then you can self-prompt using the Claiming Form instead.

*We removed most of the duplicate prompts, but you may spot that there are one or two duplicates still in there. We allowed these to stay as the prompt details were significantly different enough.

**The numbers may not match up with the prompts due to duplicates and songs that weren't available on spotify

Happy browsing! 🎧

Your Wireless mods @candybarrnerd @gnarf @maesterchill

[ask-sebastian]

Everything that didn't fit 😌

The Music Gods will smite me from above if I don't post this one.

[spoiled-fawn]

CoD Wedding Headcannons

Some sweet love for our boys, hoping to cheer anyone up after MW3. While the photos do have fem/wedding dresses in them, I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible!

I hope everyone can enjoy!

Price

Getting married to Price warrants an old Hollywood glamour, something more intimate and small for the people you both hold close, so you can make memories of the long-awaited night while being able to relax in good nature of the celebration.

You both decided to find a nice speakeasy for both the ceremony and reception, as Price had surprised you and rented out the entire venue. The soft and warm glow of candles and old lights casted a romantic light on you, showing the etheral glow to you.

Price is a traditional man, and decided to save his first look to seeing you walk down the aisle. As your eyes lock onto his, he sniffles and the distinct tell of his moustance twitching is what keys you in on him being able to feel comfortable showing his emotions as he hones his ice blue eyes on you.

He did in fact, make quite the show for your first kiss, taking you in his arms and giving you a gentle but deep dip, showing off the romantic (almost steamy) touch of your lips as you lock in your unity.

Your first dance is a slow sway in circles, focused on whispering sweet nothings to each other in between the kisses you reach up to give him. Saving the absolute last dance for both of you, as the clock strikes into midnight and the day is now Sunday, Etta James' Sunday Kind of Love plays out softly as you sway together before heading up to your honeymoon suite.

Vows:

"My angel, you have been everything I believed I never deserved. You have shown me what I have always been missing, the love that I never knew of. I know I will never be able to amount to the thankfulness of you sticking by me through and through, I will never stop thanking the heavens of the gold and glory that you are, as you run through my veins to find your home in my heart.

Just as I fought by your side on the field, I promise to fight for our love, to shield it from any harm that may come its way. Through the scars and wounds we bear, both seen and unseen, I vow to cherish every part of you. Your strength, your vulnerability, your laughter, and your tears - they are all precious to me. Our love is a force that any creature made by god would fear, as I know we are forever to be unstoppable together, through every small and great task.

Together, we will conquer any obstacle that stands in our way. I promise to never forget the sacrifices made; honoring our fallen, for they have paved and protected the way for our love. They watch over us, guiding us, and reminding us to cherish every moment we have. I love you, with every last being of myself, and even past my last breath. Forever and always, angel."

Gaz

Gaz has a flair for the dramatics and also loves a fairytale and nature aesthetic. He requested a fairytale wedding, and it was an extravagant night for the two of you. Gaz values some traditions but was ready to blow those to the wind for his excitement to celebrate your love. You did a first look, and he was rendered speechless as he took in your form, tears already pooling and beginning to stream down his face.

Gaz took the time with you to learn a ballroom dance for your first song, impressing your guests and even yourselves with how beautiful and magical the two of you are. Cutting the cake was a very sweet moment for the two of you, as you both happened to have the same thought and booped each other on the nose with icing at the same moment.

Your wedding was held in a mountaintop venue, the night sky showing all the stars that shined brightly and reflected on a lake, approving of your love as if the faries make an appearance for your royal court of a wedding. As you danced the night away, Kyle was sure to keep a mix of whispering the most heart warming sweet nothings, and making sure to catch your reaction by the photographers when he murmured sinfully sweet thoughts in your ear.

Vows:

"Through the chaos and uncertainty, you became my anchor, guiding me with your strength and infectious spirit. Together, we have faced the darkest of days, and it is in those moments that our love has grown stronger. When I look into your eyes, I see a reflection of my hopes, dreams, and desires.

Your love has breathed life into my soul, and I vow to nourish that love with tenderness and compassion. I promise to be your confidant, your partner, and your best friend, as your happiness is everything that can and will continue to let my heartbeat to our special song. I promise to be the keeper of your dreams, the one who will protect and nourish you from any challenges we face, always together.

You are my life; I will walk beside you, hand in hand, supporting you in every step. You are the greatest reward life has ever, granted me. With every beat of my heart, I will love you fiercely, unconditionally, and without reservation, for you are the missing piece that completes me."

Soap

Johnny was all for having a fun and colorful wedding, and a maximalist and retro decor was decided on. Because for a MacTavish? Go big or go home baby.

He never stopped smiling the day of your wedding, his astonishment at the environment and scene of your unity never leaving his face. You decided to read your vows privately to each other, holding hands and having your backs to each other while waiting to have your first look down the aisle. Under disco balls, your first dance felt like something out of a movie.

Johnny was one to always show off, and he was sure to spin and dip you around, his strength holding you as he even lifted you and twirled you around. Now as a real MacTavish, you both knew how to throw a party and made sure that your open bar helped your guests get as wild as you two are.

If you did decide to wear a garter, or simply put one on for the tradition, Johnny made a damn great show of taking it off; crawling underneath your dress/between your legs and made you squeak in embarrassment as his stuble tickled your thigh.

Vows:

"Today, I stand before you, to pledge my undying love. You, my little sparrow, have held my attention, obsession, and heart from the moment our eyes met. I promise to always have your back, whether we're dodging bullets or just trying to figure out what to have for dinner. With you, life is an adventure, and I can't wait to tackle it together.

I promise to be your partner in crime for life, always up for exploring new horizons and creating memories we’ll never live down, But as long as we're together, every moment will be an adventure worth cherishing.

You bring laughter and lightness to my life, even in the darkest of times. Your smile is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the storm clouds. Life is too short to not enjoy the simple pleasures, and with you by my side, every moment is a treasure.

I vow to keep the flames of passion alive, As Our love is a fire that burns bright, even amidst the chaos. I promise to keep the spark alive, to always pursue you with the same determination and intensity that challenges the forces of this earth."

Ghost

Simon was enthusiastic to have a wedding that featured a dark and mystical aesthetic. He wanted something small and private, requesting that it be some of your closest friends and family to spend the special night together.

With a romantic and dark church, it was a powerful and mystical wedding that incorporates both of your energies. You both decided not to have groomsmen/bridesmaids and instead placed altars of your fallen teammates and loved ones under the arch with you two, feeling their love in your unity.

Simon waited for his first look down the aisle but began crying with a wavering voice during your vows. During the first dance, he lifted you to stand atop of his feet, holding you as he moved the both of you in a surprising fashion of a waltz, elegantly for the seasoned stealth veteran.

His eyes seemed to swim with tears, iris' almost as black as his pupils in the dark lit church and ballroom. His eyes were rarely straying from you, far to enamored with keeping every memory to be held in his soul- even in the next life.

Vows:

"From the darkness where death once consumed us, to the light that now shines through our love, I stand here today, my heart laid bare, to vow my eternal devotion to you. In the face of danger, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, our love has blossomed like a fragile flower, defying all odds. Today, I stand here, a silent guardian, to pledge my undying love and devotion to you. In our promise, my heart will always yearn for your touch, laughter, and the warmth of your presence.

Through the pain and loss we have endured, I promise to cherish every memory we share. Your laughter, your touch, your soul - they are etched into the very fabric of my existence. I will hold you as tenderly as the spirits did when creating you, as you are a gift that I will forever cherish. In this broken world, I vow to mend any pieces of your heart, to hold you close when the weight of the past becomes too heavy to bear.

I will be your strength when you feel weak, your rock when you need stability. With you, I have found a love that mends the scars of the past."

Graves

Phillip desired a venue within the wilderness and countryside, deciding that a farm with a Barn reception was perfect. His vows were as strong as his commands, his voice was deep and rich with honey, and maybe a few tears, as he spoke his heart out to you and let the crowd hear just how much you have changed him into a loving man.

You partook in “burying the bourbon,” planting a favorite bottle in the ground of your wedding venue, one month prior. Once dug out, you intertwined arms and took shots all night, the heat of the drink and your love enveloping you both. two-stepping through the night on the dance floor, he twirled you expertly and dipped you low to the ground before always leaving a kiss on your lips.

It was during the ceremony that he surprised you, having ordered a mechanical bull for you and the guests to ride. Taking you and himself on the first ride, you laughed so hard you cried at how silly, but fun it was.

Taking you to the airport after the wedding, he had a classic American car with a "Just Married" sign on the back. And of course, the Shadows were your escort to the airport.

Vows:

"My sweetheart, from the moment our stubborn hearts crossed paths, I sensed a connection deeper than what ties us to this life. I will be a guardian of our love, ensuring that it shines brightly in every step I take, and every breath I draw, as you are the whisper that breathes into my greatest devotion.

In the depths of my soul, and the depths of you, I promise to carry our love of shared laughter, whispered promises, and the unspoken bond that will forever be the piece that grounds me in this realm. I vow to live a life worthy of the love you bless me with, to carry forward the lessons you teach me, and to honor the sacrifices we have made to make it this far, together.

Your courage, compassion, and unwavering loyalty will forever inspire me, my angel, whom I vow to cherish and love and you beat your wings to the pulse of my heart.

As I walk this Earth with you by my side, I know that we will be forever united no matter the realm we are in. As our love knows no boundaries, and as we exchange these vows, we will be together, holding each other in a timeless embrace. To the moon and farther, you are my saving grace. ”

Alejandro

Alejandro was excited to celebrate your commitment and love to each other, already planning a massive celebration between each other's families, friends, and Los Vaqueros, who helped set up your beautiful wedding. In true Vaquero fashion, the Wedding Lasso Ceremony was incorporated.

By a thick cord of white rope, the priest tied it around you two in an infinity shape and blessed your unity to eternity. As he read his vows to you, Alejandro tried very hard to not cry but in the last paragraph (and from hearing his own mother’s soft sniffles in the crowd) he had a quiet sob while his eyes found yours, reciting the lines from his heart.

As the ceremony concluded, you and Alejandro rode your horses down the streets of the town, waving and smiling at all who had come out to shout and cheer for your parade of love in La Callejoneada, many throwing rice and flower petals towards you two in a token of celebration. Your wedding was held in an orchard of Mango trees, the meaning of affection and adoration not.

Vows:

"Mi Amor, as we stand together, I vow to be the person you deserve, to love you unconditionally, and to be a witness to your growth and transformation. Our love is a flame that burns brightly, illuminating the path before us, and I am grateful to walk it by your side.

In your eyes, I find the force that drives me to be what you deserve, as you are the most sacred thing to ever cross the path of my heart. Eres mi existencia, la luz que hace que mi sangre lata en mi corazón como siempre ha sido el tuyo. (You are my existence, the light that makes my blood beat into my heart as it has always been yours.)

Mi Vida, in you, I have found a sanctuary where I can be myself, unburdened by the weight of the world. I vow to be your shelter and support, and together, we will create a haven of love and understanding, where we can always find solace and rejuvenation.

Desde este día en adelante, caminaremos juntos por el sendero de la vida, enfrentando los desafíos con valentía y compartiendo las risas y los sueños. Mi amor por ti trasciende las palabras y se manifiesta en cada gesto, en cada mirada, y en cada latido de mi corazón."

(From this day forward, we will walk the path of life together, facing challenges with courage and sharing laughter and dreams. My love for you transcends words and is manifested in every gesture, in every look, and in every beat of my heart.)

Rudy

Rodolfo was ready for a celebration but wanted to keep it intimate to your closest family and friends, and of course, Los Vaqueros as well. You both chose a beautiful wedding venue next to the beach, having the white decorations tied into the beautiful white sand and blue ocean water.

Exchanging Las Arras matrimoniales proved to be heartwarming as the priest and los padrinos y madrinas made sure you felt the love as you became a Parra, a member of their family. You were surprised as Rudy managed to only have his eyes water during his vows but his voice wavered, and he had to clear his throat multiple times while reading them aloud.

That didn’t stop his voice from showing his conviction and devotion; entering the reception, Rudy placed you on a lone chair in the middle of the dance floor and lined up with his men and a mariachi band. Under the sunset, he serenaded you. His voice rang out richly and perfectly, causing tears to stream down your face as your hand laid over your heart to try and keep it still.

Vows:

“Mi Cielo, your presence in my life has been like a symphony, each note perfectly harmonizing with the next. Together, we have created a melody that resonates deep within me. You have become my muse, my inspiration, and the beat of my soul.

Mi Corazón, prometo nutrir nuestro amor como una flor delicada, cuidándolo con cuidado y devoción. Así como un compositor cultiva su obra maestra, yo me haré cargo de nuestro amor, colmándolo de cariño, comprensión y respeto. Nuestro amor florecerá, irradiando su belleza al mundo. (My Heart, I promise to nourish our love like a delicate flower, tending to it with care and devotion. Just as a composer cultivates his masterpiece, I will take charge of our love, showering it with affection, understanding and respect. Our love will blossom, radiating its beauty to the world.)

Our love is a masterpiece, and I promise to protect it with all my being. As we embark on this journey together, I vow to always walk beside you, hand in hand, navigating the twists and turns that life may bring. Our love will be the melody that carries us through, and with you by my side, I am confident that we can conquer anything. En este día y todos los días venideros, me comprometo a amarte con cada fibra de mi ser. (On this day and every day to come, I commit to loving you with every fiber of my being.)

Our love is a melody that sings of devotion and commitment, and I am honored to be the one who shares this beautiful symphony with you.”

König

While planning your wedding, König asked for a deal between you two for the ceremony. If you granted him a private elopement, he would deliver the wedding of your dreams. Deliver he did, as he picked a literal castle for your venue. An enchanting and historic architecture with plants adding to the mystical feel, he made you feel as decadent as two rulers who are together forever more and uniting two kingdoms.

He chose to speak his vows privately to you, with a camera pointed towards you to watch as you both had tears running down your faces at the words spoken softer than any feeling your heart has ever felt before. However, he knew that a party was needed to celebrate your love, so the reception was held in a ballroom that overlooked the forest.

As a man who values his heritage, you and König had a private ‘Brautraub’ where you hid within the castle, waiting for him to figuratively seek and kidnap you as a symbol of starting a new portion of your life with him as he (literally) swept you off your feet and into his arms.

Vows:

"Mein Schätz, our love is vital as the bond between two rulers has created a kingdom of love and unity that reigns within our souls. You are the crown of my life, the sun that illuminates my kingdom. With you, I have experienced the true meaning of love and devotion as you have captured my heart, forever I will honor and protect you, as you are my guiding star that will lead me to my heaven.

Mein Liebling, ich gelobe, unsere Liebe wie ein kostbares Juwel zu hegen und sie mit Hingabe und Aufmerksamkeit zu pflegen. Ich gelobe, unsere Liebe immer zu nähren und sie stärker zu machen als einen funkelnden Diamanten, denn niemand wird jemals meine Hingabe an Dich schmälern. (My darling, I vow to cherish our love like a precious jewel and to nurture it with devotion and attention. I vow to always nourish our love and make it stronger than a sparkling diamond, for no one will ever diminish my devotion to you.)

Meine Sonne und Sterne, I vow to cherish and nurture our bond with tenderness and care. Like a king protects his kingdom, I will guard our love fiercely, shielding it from harm. Our love will stand as a beacon of hope, one that is a testament of royalty, radiating its warmth and beauty to all who witness its majestic journey. Ich liebe dich für immer.”

(Meine Sonne und Sterne = My Sun and my Stars. Ich liebe dich für immer = I love you, forever.)

[sandersstudies]

Since you can't share top picks for potential baby names, would you be willing to share which ones you considered that didn't quite make the cut? AKA ones you know you won't be using?

YESSSSSS I feel like I’m an influencer for the first time. I have to keep my two top picks each for boys and girls to myself in case I use them in the future but if I don’t and I still have this blog when my family is complete I’ll share.

I won’t be sad if you judge me in the notes! These names all didn’t make the cut for a reason.

Boys

James (My husband and I actually both like this name but my extended family has two James’ already)

Basil

Bates

Geordi (We are Trekkies and love Geordi LaForge but sadly decided that this is a cute little boy’s name but maybe sounds a little juvenile for a grown man.)

Mathi

Ambrose

Anselm

Atticus

Mangan (This was intended to honor a male mentor in my life but my husband knew a kid named Mangan who sucked and ruined this one for him.)

Sheridan (We decided this sounded too feminine.)

Selwyn

Sigrun (We actually liked this for a boy, nicknamed Sig or Siggy, but concluded that the Norse mythology connection made it too feminine.)

Zefram

Amyas/Amias (This was my top pick boy name for a while but my husband didn’t like this one at all.)

Leander

Lemuel

Laertes (Another of my favorites my husband didn’t like.)

Peregrine (This is a saint name that goes well with my second-favorite girl name but obviously most people hear Peregrine Falcon.)

Penton

Delemay (We decided this one sounded to feminine.)

Viggo

Kodiak (I said the mountains. My husband said the camera.)

Silas

Gideon

Pascoe (My husband thinks this is too close to Pascal, which makes him think of Tangled.)

Jude

Jethro (My mom actually vetoed this one.)

Girls

Ronnette/Roni (My family has a lot of Ronalds after a family member who passed away, and I liked this feminine alternative.

Agnes (This was one of the few girl names my husband and I both liked for a while.)

Liesl (Like the Sound of Music.)

Zelpha (Another family name)

Sophronia (Also a family name)

Brontë (For the author sisters.)

Piccarda

Simonetta

Lucretia (Can you tell I read a lot about the Italian Renaissance)

Romy/Roamy

Paget (Like the actor from Criminal Minds.)

Thaïs (This was too similar to another family member’s name)

Tula (Fandom alert this was a character from Dimension 20: Burrow’s End)

Zoah

Bryony

Ardis (I actually have an acquaintance named this but it’s SUCH a cool one, and a shorter alternative to Artemis.)

Wynne (Whoops! My in-laws named their dog this :))

Winona

Etta

Eulalie

Gwynedd (Too similar to the name of a family member)

Nadine

Saryn

[starkwlkr]

if you dance, I’ll dance | cillian murphy

2006

“Doesn’t this look nice? Look, I found the perfect matching earrings to go with the dress.”

Y/n stood in front of a mirror. It was a few hours before ‘The Devil Wear Prada’ premiere since she was invited by her good friend, Anne. Her assistant, Joli, was helping her get ready.

“I like it.” Y/n smiled to herself. This was her first big premiere, although it wasn’t her film, she still wanted to support her friend.

“Okay, oh my god, you look gorgeous!” Joli hasped at the sigh of Y/n.

“I just want this night to go great.”

“Y/n! You made it!” Anne yelled over the shouting of the photographers.

“I did, you’re my best friend, of course I was going to show up for you.” Y/n smiled and hugged Anne.

“You have to come to the after party. It’s going to be so much fun.” The brunette laughed.

“Let me remind you what happened last time you and I went to an after party. I lost my shoe and you almost got arrested.”

“I promise nothing bad is going to happen at this one.”

Something did happen that night, but it led Y/n to the greatest love of her life. Yeah, she might’ve been a little too drunk and confused her future husband with Henry Cavill, but at least she has an interesting story to tell to her future kid.

It started with a shot of tequila. Then the one shot became two and then three and so on. Not only was tequila consumed, but a waiter had brought a bottle of wine courtesy of the great Meryl Streep who wanted to celebrate the film’s success.

“Wait, shut up, shhhh,” Anne placed her hand over Y/n’s mouth. “Oh my god, they’re playing Poker Face! You have to dance with me!”

“I don’t think I can keep myself up. Where’s the restroom? I might vomit or I need to pee, I can’t decide which one.” Y/n admitted.

Anne pointed towards a hallway that had a sign pointing to the restrooms so Y/n mumbled an ‘I’ll be back’ and darted to the hallway. Like any other after party she had attended, the line to the restroom was long. The sight of the line made her frustrated so she left the hallway and walked outside to get some fresh air.

The night sky was shining. Y/n could see some guests already leaving, some women had their heels in their hands, a guy was missing his coat, Y/n even saw Ryan Reynolds being dragged by his manager. That night, she couldn’t really remember if she had vomited on ‘Henry Cavill’ or if she even vomited at all. All she remembered was that some guy had told her she had a pretty smile and gave her his number which she held onto for the rest of the night.

Oh! How could she forget! She had also shared a dance with him to a sweet melody that she forgotten the name of.

‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ by Elvis? No, that wasn’t it.

‘At Last’ by Etta James? Nope.

‘Unchained Melody’ by The Righteous Brothers? Not even close.

She tried so hard to remember the song that she dances to with the guy who made her smile so much. She just wished she could relive that night whenever she wanted.

“Cillian, his name is Cillian.”

BARBENHEIMER TAGLIST

@thatgirlthatreadswattpad @leclercloml

[spngi]

My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Part 1

Prologue

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, citation of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating, angst

There's a warm breeze in the room, crossing through the space from the windows that remained open overnight, the scent of Spanish summer mixing with Carlos' aroma in the room. Carlos' arms surround me in bed, and I can't help but wake up to the kisses he spreads across my back.

"Good morning, darling," I murmur still drowsy to Carlos, turning to face him. He looks handsome in the morning, tousled hair, a silly smile on his face, his voice hoarse from sleep.

"Good morning, cariño," he replies, pulling me closer into his embrace, making me laugh; his hand is gentle as it touches my face in a light caress.

"That smile of yours makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world," Carlos says, and even after all this time together, he still makes me blush with affection.

"I'm the lucky one to have you, Carlos," I lightly kiss his lips. "I love you."

"I love you too," he responds.

Everything feels empty, the house filled with love and happiness now seems like a mausoleum, the hallways echoing even with people still in them, my head on the verge of collapsing along with my entire body. I feel broken, still alone, a million beautiful memories dancing in my head and wasted by the end.

Divorce. Just thinking of that word makes me nauseous. Five beautiful years shared reduced to a single piece of paper. I couldn't and wouldn't let that happen, no matter what Carlos tried; I wouldn't give that to him. Of all the long list of concessions I made to him, divorce wouldn't be added to it.

I can't go back to my room, I can't stay here without feeling the urge to go back to him, to plead and shake him until he comes to his senses, until he loves me again.

I return to the back of the house where Carlos had set aside a place for me to paint and have a moment of peace; there are many paintings hanging in that room, various phases of my life, our life. That studio was my safe haven. I close my eyes and try to breathe, pour myself a drink and put on an Etta James record.

It's when I finally look at the blank canvas in front of me, waiting to be filled, that I feel the tears rolling down, like a dam that has reached its limit.

"Y/n?" I hear Charles' voice calling me after a long time, catching me off guard. I try to quickly wipe the tears from my face, knowing it will be in vain.

"Hi," I turn to him, my voice trembling, and Charles tries not to stare at my state.

Charles is one of Carlos' right-hand men, helping him with business and also his security.

"Carlos asked me to deliver this to you," he places the same envelope from earlier on the table, and more tears roll down my eyes. He looks at me again, and I hate to seem so fragile in this moment.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, and I can't find the strength to respond; I just nod my head and hope he leaves. Although Leclerc was a great listener and a friend in his spare time, I didn't want to talk, to tell him what was going on. It would make the whole situation too real at this moment, so I just wait for him to leave so I can break down again.

I never opened the envelope; I didn't want to see what was inside, didn't want to know what I was worth in Carlos' eyes, didn't even want to negotiate how much our life together was worth. The papers went straight to the back of my closet, hidden from the world and from my eyes.

Carlos didn't sleep at home that night, even the next, and even the next four days. It was as if he was punishing me with his absence for not accepting the separation, as if leaving me wandering alone around the house would change my mind about it. The big house kept running, with staff and security guards wandering around. But Carlos didn't bother to come back home, or to take care of his own business, sending Charles back and forth all the time to pick up his papers and important things. And it's when I finally tire of this game that I decide to corner Charles.

He looks startled when he enters my husband's office and sees me there, sitting in Carlos' chair, with my Manolo Blahnik heels propped up on the table.

"Oh, Y/n... good morning, didn't expect to see you here," Leclerc sighs, and I give him a slight smile. "I came to get some things for Carlos and I'll leave you alone again."

"Actually, Charles..." I stand up and then firmly place my hands on the stack of documents he came to fetch. "The documents are staying; tell him to come get them personally."

"Y/n... Mrs. Sainz, I've been instructed to do just that," Charles replies. It hurts me to do this with him, the man had nothing to do with our marital problems but it was the only method of passing the message to Carlos.

"Don't think I'm trying to disrupt your life, Charles. Just pass on the message to him; I want him to come back home soon. He can't keep hiding in that tiny apartment forever." I lean on the table and watch his reaction as he realizes what I've said.

"Do you know where he is?" he asks me curiously.

"I found out the moment you left here on the first day," I smile cynically at Charles, "and I wouldn't want to have to go there to pay him a visit. I believe Carlos wouldn't like that either, as it would disturb the peace of the apartment's owner."

Charles still seemed surprised by the information I had. The truth was I couldn't keep dragging myself around the house in eternal sadness, wondering where my husband was. So, I took the opportunity to send my bodyguard after Charles. Lando was still young, but he was efficient and smart; he had been by my side since I moved into this house and Carlos decided it would be good for me to have some protection. As Lando was young, maybe it would be easier for me to get used to him, and it really was; we became good friends over time. Once he found out Carlos' address, it was easy to find out whose apartment it was and who the girl was.

Martina. That name sounded bitter in my head.

"I'll be keeping this for him for now, and it was good to see you, Charles," I smile, dismissing him.

I smile as I watch him leave, feeling at least somewhat victorious today. I look at his office again, pick up the picture frame I found stored earlier in the drawer, and place it on Carlos' desk again. The image makes me smile nostalgically; the photo of our wedding fills me with a bit of hope, the happiness in our eyes, love radiating from the photo. Maybe I could make everything go back to normal.

When I get up the next day, I'm not surprised to see Carlos at the table having coffee. That was good; he had come and was at home after all. He looks at me through his coffee cup, his eyes expressing no emotion, but it's comforting to have him there, sitting in our living room having coffee.

"It's good to see you," I greet him and sit next to him at the table.

"I wish I could say the same," he says, placing the cup on the table, "but you know I hate being pressured."

"I gave you five days, dear. Believe me, I was patient and kind," I fidget nervously with the ring on my finger. "Listen, we need to talk, open up to each other... Being alone in these last few days was horrible; this huge house where..."

Carlos doesn't let me finish speaking. He smiles, that kind of evil smile he gives when he's plotting something, the same evil smile I've seen so many times directed at someone else.

"I'm glad you mentioned that," he interrupts. "You were right about saying that apartment was tiny. And as you yourself said, this house is huge, so I believe you won't mind me bringing one more guest," he speaks naturally, as if he hadn't done something horrible, as if it wasn't enough to have tainted our marriage, he had to taint our home now, as if he wanted me to hate him more each day.

"You wouldn't do that," I reply shocked.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" he asks, pointing to the large door leading to the garden and the pool of the house, the smile never leaving his lips.

[lvrslvt3]

LOVABLE | s.reid

main masterlist | spencer masterlist

pairings : reader x shy!spencerreid

summary : the times that spencer’s girlfriend has appreciated him in public.

warnings : none :)

notes : this is not proof read !!

“oh my god, you didn’t tell me he was so cute, morgan.” you didn’t even glance at your friend as you stared at the man with glasses across from you. he turned red at the compliment.

“oh my god, boy wonder has an admirer!” garcia approached the pair with an excited squeal, only causing spencer to become even more red as she gushed over the pair.

it only lasted a few moment before both derek and garcia disappeared, leaving spencer and you alone. he was still red in the face and refusing to meet your eyes.

“i’m sorry for embarrassing you.” you apologised as soon as the two had left, the man finally meeting your eyes. all hope in them had vanished and instead you were met with disappointment. he thought you were kidding. “you are cute, though.”

spencer was back to blushing at your compliments.

“oh my god!” you squealed as you walked out of the elevator with spencer, grinning ear to ear as he chuckled at your overly dramatic reaction.

“what’s wrong?” derek turned the corner with emily by his side, both looking mildly concerned at you both. you couldn’t speak, instead holding up your hands that were holding spencer’s.

“i’m so happy i can’t talk.” you stuttered through your speech before looking up at spencer, “i have to tell garcia. i cant contain myself!” before he could stop you, you practically skipped down to her office.

“why is she so happy?” emily questioning as she watched you disappear down the hall. “i, um—“ spencer suddenly looked down at the ground, the grin never leaving his lips. “i asked her to be my girlfriend.”

there was laughs, and screams, as everyone rushed inside at the sight of the pouring rain. spencer didn’t, instead he looked around disappointingly. his halloween party was ruined.

not on your watch.

“where is everyone going?” you frowned as the speakers were grabbed by someone to prevent them from water damage, instead opening your phone and playing a song as loud as you could. it was an etta james song.

“it’s raining.” spencer stated with a small huff, “let’s go inside before you get sick.” he wrapped an arm around you but you weren’t having it, instead wrapping both of yours around his neck. “afraid of a little rain?”

the man looked confused until you placed his hands on your waist and then returned yours back to loop around his neck, beginning to sway side to side with the songs slow beat.

“y/n, you’re gonna get sick.” he warned but it was clear by the smile on his face that he was warmed by your actions. you simply laid your head onto his chest. “one song, please, spence.” you begged.

he hummed while wrapping his arms around you, hoping to keep you warm as you danced together while the people inside watched on - small smiles on their faces.

“i can feel your back muscles.” you grinned up at your boyfriend that returned the gesture, looking down towards you. after all the compliments he received from you his confidence had grown — but they still made him go red.

“they probably think we’re crazy.” the agent referred to the crowd inside. he continued to dance with you, spinning around in slow steps while holding each other in the rain.

“i don’t care.” you shook your head, “aslong as i’m with you, they can think whatever they want.” you leaned up to place a kiss on the man’s lips, unable to contain your smile as you did.

[avenshine]

at last. — aventurine

a/n: this is dedicated to my lovely friend, @aventurne ♥️ happy belated birthday, i hope this new age and every one going forward treats you so amazingly, whereas you’ll find nothing but positive days ahead 🥹🤲❤️ happy belated again!

warning: spoilers for 2.1 tb mission, this is inspired by at last by etta james, one line from the song is used but it’s not a song fic, fluff x10000, aventurines just so in love

aventurine was always cautious, he would take his time to plan out everything he did, no matter how reckless it seemed.

but if you were to ask the blonde haired man, he’d say he wasn’t cautious, he was careful. careful crafting his art to a point of perfection.

except, these all seemed to fall down; the walls— the facade he created to protect himself from the outside world and himself, when with you.

he adored you, so much. it almost physically hurt, he couldn’t help it though, he was so in love. he was so in love with you, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

it’s the way you speak, the way you effortlessly articulate your thoughts. the way you have the most adorable expressions, when your eyebrows furrow, the way you raise them when confused.

or maybe it was the way you supported him, telling him if he believed he could do it, he could. it reminded him of his past.

“kakavasha!” you call out, waving your hand in his face. he’s a bit confused, he could’ve swore he was just somewhere else.

“good morning, sleepyhead. it’s already past 9:30!” you laugh, but so does he; you’re just teasing him in good fun.

“sorry, i was.. caught up in my thoughts?” he says, shrugging. you nod, refusing to press further, you already knew of his past— and you figured that’s what he was so caught up in his thoughts of.

he sits up, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead. you tilt your head, a bit confused. did you do something?

“sorry, just needed to give you a quick thank you for being— everything i ever dreamed of, everything i hoped for.” he says, giving you a kiss on your lips this time. one that’s sweet, gentle, but still filled with so much love, appreciation, joy bundled up into one.

[shirefantasies]

Hey, babes!

Honestly I have brain rot for the idea of the ‘woman of the group does sexy dance to help mission’ trope and like LOTR boys. I also have brain rot for them hearing her sing ‘I Wanna Make Love To You’ by Etta James.

Anyway can I request the elves reactions to reader do a sexy burlesque/strip style dance? Like they in the audience and how they’d react.

By elves I mean: Elrond, Lindir, Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir and Arwen

OK I’M YELLING (I went ahead n threw our girl Galadriel in there cuz gotta catch em all right? 😁) there’s not really a mission lol but hope this does it justice! My latest D&D session the other night ended with burlesque performance so this feels like the perfect time to post this hehe

The Elves Reacting to F!Reader’s Burlesque Performance

Warnings: suggestive obviously 😆

Thranduil

Sure, he knew you’d all but been dared to set foot upon the stage, but something in your resolute expression and the long robe you wore had Thranduil’s eyebrows raising. Nary did he expect the way your hand shot out, grabbing the pole the moment the lights dimmed, or the way your robe dropped, revealing the lowest-cut, highest-slit dress he’d ever seen you in. Breath hitching, he watched as a long wave of fabric draped between your gorgeous legs, which wrapped around the pole as you climbed it. Eyes darkening as you spun, he could hardly help imagining what, or whom, else they could wind around so, and if he would ever be so blessed to see the confident air overtaking you again…

Legolas

Frowning, Legolas disappeared further into the gathering crowd. Gimli was the one who’d dared him to attend the show, telling him he was sure no pointy-ear could handle it. How could it be so, simply a performance? The crowd looked far too eager for you to be putting them into any sort of- oh. You emerged onto the stage, forearms and down covered with feathers like the wings of a great bird. Your legs were almost entirely bare, skirt minimal and bodice little more than a corset. Twirling and pirouetting into poses the woodland prince could only describe as suggestive, you beamed innocently at the crowd and hid behind your feathers, lashes fluttering. Another performer emerged behind you, hands on your waist and fingers deftly loosening your corset… Gripping the arms of his seat tighter, Legolas leaned in, a yearning in his own fingers readily accepting his friend’s latest challenge.

Haldir

A dancer you were. That was a known fact whispered among those familiar with you, often calling you something of a knife-dancer. Curiosity got the better of Haldir when scandal colored whispers of your performance right outside the woods. Was it dangerous, perhaps? Pride flowed into the little smile of anticipation he wore as fast-paced music filled the room and flames were snuffed, leading you to slide gracefully into the dim. Crouching, you crawled to the edge of the stage with a bloodthirsty grin that sent shivers down Haldir’s spine. Flicks of your wrists revealed your famed blades, which you twirled, tossed, and dragged gently along the length of your tongue. Brows raising, he found himself leaning forward with new interest. What sort of dance was- Coherent thought ceased immediately when you tossed your blades, caught them, and began slicing away at purposefully shoddy seams upon your outfit, revealing more and more until the elf was on the edge of his seat…

Galadriel

Hearing of a new form of entertainment served only to pique Galadriel’s curiosity and draw her from her frequent solitude. After all, if it was making her people happy… She did not expect to see a lone performer upon a platform, elaborately feathered fans covering most of her figure, but there you were. Clad all in white, at least from what she could see near your feet, you slowly closed the fans. The long swaths of fabric that hung near the ground begun only at your hips, the expanse of your legs utterly bare as you extended them, moving gracefully across the stage as your fans accentuated every curve and undulation of your body. Jerking, you rotated, hips swiveling as you happened to face the Lady of Lórien, and watching you through her lashes Galadriel felt a devilish smile rise to her lips. She saw exactly why there had been such a buzz…

Lindir

There had been talk of you giving a performance of some kind, but all Lindir had been able to retrieve on the subject was that he should quite like to be in the audience, so with a light heart he shuffled into the crowd, pleased to be quite close to the stage set up for you. Perhaps you’d learned a new instrument under his nose and wishes to surprise him with a performance! Perhaps- You slunk to the center clad in, oh dear, quite a sheer skirt. Feeling a rush of heat to his face, he tried to focus upon the swell of music, largely successful until you ripped your top off, hips swinging lower as your layers thinned and thinned… You froze momentarily, wearing little more than your corset, and made direct eye contact with Lindir, whose eyes widened and body felt quite faint. Slowly, deliberately, you took up your dance once more, grinning at him as you began unlacing the back of your garment. His hands shot up, half-covering his face, but he couldn’t help himself peeking again and again.

Elrond

Housing a troupe of performers was certainly an unusual set of circumstances, but not in the slightest beyond the reach of the great homely house. Indeed, at encouragement from Lindir to let music fill his halls, Elrond acquiesced to a performance, unknowing of the so-called ‘dancers’ who would emerge after the exuberant wind section. In fact, it wasn’t until they called you out that Elrond’s eyes widened, brows expressive as ever as they flexed in great shock. You were lowered down on ropes, sitting with your legs largely bared and swinging. Garments- quite the loose term- of drapery covered the rest of your form, but as you leaned back in your swing, you began twisting, swiveling, removing one veil after another… Elrond found himself looking this way and that, but his eyes could never leave you for long. Feeling his gaze darken and his hands flex, he wondered what he had gotten himself into…

Arwen

How scandalous could it be? Many a friend or even a family member or two had rolled eyes and whispered harshly about your performances, but Arwen was not afraid. No matter what it was said to be, she would experience it for it to be so in her mind. Thus she found herself in the audience of the very subject of contempt, the somewhat smaller ratio of maids to men not lost upon her. A great fount was all Arwen could see at the center of it all, at least until one bare leg slowly arched from its edge. Blinking, Arwen watched as it was followed by another, each of them kicking some water onto the crowd before your hands gripped the other side, flipping over to render most of your body visible. Hanging from the sides, you swiveled your hips, head innocently rested upon your folded arms as if your…ahem…rear end were not moving so. Sitting up, you let go, dropping back into the water with a splash before emerging again and grinningly tossing water on more patrons. Arwen found herself mirroring your expression, following your every motion with interest and a strange sense of elation.

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @kilibaggins @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin | Reply/Ask/Message to join 🥰

[seeingivy]

the sound of the applause

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: pain pre cursor.

an: songs mentioned - london boy by taylor swift, golden hour by jvke, girlfriend by avril lavigne. anyways. this chapter tame af. we are starting our demonic era. and no, you are not getting an eren pov until I say so. and I have covid so I am feeling extra evil and already writing the next one.

previous part linked here

--

You’re twelve years old the first time that you feel it. 

You have hippies to thank for the entire ordeal. In your small, small town in Canada, there’s very little tension or importance on the arts. Singing, dancing, acting - like many places around the world - fall short to the highs and lows that come with sports. 

Your middle school is no exception. A school that can barely spare money to fund a dying arts department, that begrudgingly offers one generalized art class that covers the basics of painting. Except when the hippy dippy parents in town petition, file a complaint with the mayor, they’re sequestered to include arts in all sectors that sports are included in. 

A law that opens doors insanely. And creates the opportunity that exposes you to it. The singer showcase at the football pep rally. 

And if you have to, you guess you have to thank food poisoning as well. Because Paulina, the original girl who was supposed to sing, was missing from first period that morning and you were all too quick to offer to take her spot. 

They give you that pitchy, old black microphone and let you sing your heart out to one of your favorite old songs, At Last by Etta James. And when you open your eyes, the recollection of the performance is wiped from your mind seconds after you finish, and there’s only one thing you remember. It rings so hard, the sound so loud in your eardrums that it’s all you feel. The rush of the blood, the eyes staring back at you, and your cheeks burning. 

When you think back, long and hard, that’s the first time it happens. The first time you feel it. It sits with you, that resounding pressure, that digs on you to give in. The need, the want, the infatuation with the rush you’re feeling. 

And the obsession with the sound of the applause.

--

“Y/N. Wake up.” 

You aggressively push your forehead into the plush of your pillow, creating a nice symphony of groaning songs in response to Danny, who is interrupting your beauty sleep. 

“How long has it been?” you murmur into the pillow, the stinging in your head and the fatigue sitting in your body telling you it couldn’t have even been an hour.

“An hour. But I just realized, the bridge didn’t come out right when I was mixing so you have to record it again.” 

“Can you come back in like three years? When I have the energy?” you groan. 

“Y/N. I’ll see you in five down there.” he definitively states, shuffling out of your room. 

Against every fiber of your being, you pull yourself out of the bed and drag yourself down to the studio, making it a point to glare at him as you re-record the bridge of the song you wrote yesterday. You give it a few tries, messing with the octaves and inflections, until you get a shining thumbs up, and wrap yourself into the blanket left on the couch. 

“You write anything new?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You hold out your green book to Danny, opening it to the page marked, at which your producer is already wrinkling his nose. He hasn’t even read the lyrics yet, but you’re sure the title - Cry - is already setting him off. 

“You didn’t even read it yet.” you respond, frowning. 

“I don’t have to read it to know it’s brilliant. But you were there in that meeting last week and you know this isn’t what we can push out.” he responds, turning back to his soundboard, half-pulling his headphones back onto his ear. 

“Danny. I-I just haven’t been able to write songs like that lately. This is what’s coming out.” 

After nearly a year of writing music and touring, Danny and Sareen have leaned heavily into your Lover Girl branding. An affectionate term used by your fans, but now the entirety of the breadth that you work with. You’re widely known for the lovey dovey, sweet songs you write so when anything that falls outside of that mold, it isn’t stuff Danny and Sareen appreciate. 

But you haven’t been able to write any of that lately. Which only makes that resoundling, crackling, heavy pressure in your head worse. Like you’re defective.

He turns around in his swivel chair, taking the little bound book you’re holding out for him, as he starts flipping through the pages. The worn down book you were gifted on your birthday years ago is filled with every mess of lyrics you’ve written, though none of them are meeting the game plan that was set weeks ago. 

That announcement sent everyone on your team into a frenzy, which was so far from your initial reaction. 

First of all, it was a rumor. That you were one leg away from being a triple threat. Second, if it’s true, you’re ecstatic. Enthralled and honored and every feeling in between. That you were even in the consideration for being a triple threat, let alone a few feet away from it.  

No one else on your team saw it that way. Your producer, Danny, saw this as a sign that you need to be making more music and faster. The songs you make take you weeks to write at this point, no thanks to the perfectionism that comes with writing the lyrics and working out the sound. He’s set a goal for you - to write one song everyday. It makes it - that impending doom in your head - ten pounds heavier.

Your manager, Sareen, is no better. She only took this as a sign that you need to start being more vigilant. A hard-assed woman in her forties, Sareen is all about work ethic. That staying determined is the only way that you will get through this. And she’s extremely blunt when she tells you so. 

Stars don’t take breaks. If you want it that badly, you have to work harder. There’s six thousand things working against you, take it as a note that you need to be running faster. That you aren’t trying hard enough. Those are equivalent to dumbbells for that rock on your head, that you’re sure is responsible for pinching all your nerves. 

And it’s a matter of proving yourself. To Sareen, Danny, Eren, and everyone who watches you. 

You appreciate the push. It’s extremely draining, but worth it when your song releases are so anticipated that you’re selling millions of copies before the song comes out. Have sold out stadium tours, and are shortlisted for awards nearly every time you do something. 

You wake up. Get ready for the show. Memorize lines in between shows, film when you don’t have shows. Write songs on flights, produce through voice memos since you’re hardly in one place at a time. 

And when you think about it all, finally being a triple threat, finally getting to hear Eren say that he told you so like you said that first night on set together, it’ll all be worth it. It’ll be over. 

You can stop running. You can stroll, swim, make the music you like. So you oblige. This is part of the process, you just have to push through. There’s an end goal in sight. And being near Eren is a part of it. 

“Have you ever thought about writing a song about…Ricky James?” Danny asks, swinging around in his chair as he smiles at you. 

You wrinkle your nose as you throw the closest thing, an empty CD case, at Danny as he laughs back. 

“Ew, Danny. That’s so not a thing.” 

Ricky James, an infinite, insurmountable amount of talent, was your co-star on your last movie, Little Women. A British singer-songwriter, who virtually blew up over night. 

He was nice - definitely the charismatic, flirty type of co-star. You’re positive half of it is the accent. After the two of you started doing press for Little Women, everyone was swooning over the two of you together. At how you guys had a handshake, did your famous kiss scene in one take, and how in almost every interview, he made it a point to joke that he was in love with you. 

You get it. It works well for the press, gets people talking about the movie. But you could never like a guy like Ricky James. Or anyone who wasn’t Eren, for that matter. 

“I know it’s not a thing. You’re all goo goo ga ga over loverboy. But it’s the same thing that we did for Little Women. He used the fact that people like to speculate to his advantage. It wouldn’t hurt to do the same.” Danny responds, shrugging. 

“I already do use that to my advantage. It’s no secret that I earned my whole Lover Girl branding from writing love songs about Eren.” 

“Yeah, but you know how it’s been for Eren lately. Maybe it’s not the best thing that your name is attached to him anymore? For both of you?” Danny states. 

Eren’s had a rough go of it lately. After Satellite Port failed and the joke they made at the awards show last year, he’s all but resigned into what you call hiding. He said that he’s just busy, focusing on landing new roles and getting more credits under his belt. You know that he recently signed a deal with Scott Clarkson to film five movies with his studio, which is promising. 

But you know Eren too well. He’s retreating, hiding in all senses of the word. From you too. The texts he used to send you - good luck before every show, a good morning even though you were on different sides of the world - have ceased all together. And the few seconds you do catch him, he seems worlds away. 

And it’s not just you who has caught onto it. The last time you saw Historia, when she came to watch your show, she mentioned that she was concerned about him, that she thinks he’s being a little bit self destructive by working with Stone Studios. That Scott Clarkson is not a good idea. 

Granted, Scott Clarkson is buddy buddy with John. You know that’s a touchy subject for her and made it a point to bring it up to Eren. To see if he was okay. But you were flying out for a tour and forgot to. And then he started showing up in the press again, hanging out with the cast he’s been working with, so you figured it was fine. That he’s going out again, smiling in photos. 

“That-that’s not true. He’s on the come up - he’s going to be the lead in the Gatsby remake that Stone Studios is doing. I’m sure he’ll get an award for it.” 

“There’s no need to get defensive. I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt to expand your horizons. Triple threats are awarded for being versatile, not sticking with what’s easy. Maybe you just need to push the boundary of what you think you can do.” he says, giving your forehead a tap.  

“It kind of feels like cheating to write a song about someone that’s not him.” you murmur, looking down at the pages in your hand. Eren’s handwriting is scribbled onto the invisible string page. Hell was the journey but it brought me heaven. 

“You know, Sareen’s not too keen about this relationship. And I know that Eren’s team isn’t either.” Danny states. 

“Who are they to tell us who we can date?” 

“It’s not about who you can date. It-it’s about the image. Tying your name to his doesn’t exactly always work in your favor, Y/N. There’s no loyalty in an industry like this. And for Eren’s case, you’ve never really helped him in that sense. When you stand together, with the success you’ve had, all they see is a failure in Eren, when he’s really not even that bad.” 

“People’s comparisons aren’t my fault. And Eren’s doing fine, he-he’s okay.” 

“Now, he is. But a few months ago, it was your name next to his that was dragging him down. If it comes down to triple threats and it’s between you and him, are you telling me that you would really pick him over you?” 

Yes. One thousand times, yes. Though you know that’s not the answer Danny wants. 

“You have to be more selfish, Y/N. And maybe that’s selfless for Eren's sake too. There isn’t room for the both of you, right now. I know you love him, but Sareen has a point. Is working this hard worth it if you don’t get what you want out of it? You and Eren have all the time in the world to be together, just focus on your career before him.” 

You frown, staring at the wrinkles pressed up against his forehead. 

“You can have what you want - have your cake and eat it too, write all these corny love songs about him after you make it. Stop running when you’re actually there, kid.” 

You look down at the pages, the thoughts floating through your mind, as the lyrics start spilling out. For your first song that’s not about Eren. 

London Boy. 

--

You try to make a point to call Eren before releases. Key word, try. 

But it doesn’t happen that way. Because Eren’s in Los Angeles and you’re in Tokyo and the time difference messes the two of you up so bad that when they surprise drop London Boy, you don’t get to warn Eren beforehand. 

And when he texts you about it, you can feel the guilt creeping into your chest. Because you know he’s too nice to say what he actually thinks about it. If it were you, you’d wring Eren’s neck out for writing a song like this about his co-star he’s rumored to be dating. But Eren is Eren and he would never. 

eren: “he likes my american smile?” babe, you’re canadian. 

eren: i like the song. really. 

you: i have dual citizenship. 

you: eren. i’m so so sorry. i meant to tell you before but the time differences, we just kept missing each other. you know i don’t mean any of it, right? 

you: it’s just a marketing thing danny and sareen planned. the song will be a hit if people are speculating who it’s about and stuff. 

eren: i figured. you don’t have to explain yourself to me!!!! 

eren: you’re a pop princess <3

eren: and currently number one on the billboard hot 100 for the fourth time in a row!!! 

You nearly throw your phone across the room at the notifications, the frustration building so hard that it’s all pouring out of your head. You can see the stack of gifts at the front of the room - candies from Falco and Colt, as well as Marco, Historia, and Reiner - for the release.

And it’s moments like this, when you’ve been running so fast and pushing so hard, that you resort to one of your worst tendencies. Because the only thing that helps you when you feel like this is being a masochist. Feeling bad only makes you want to feel worse. Like you deserve it. 

So you inflict it on yourself. By reading what people say about you online. 

You reach back for your phone - ignoring the messages from Armin, Bertholdt, and Levi - as you scroll to Twitter, hiding the light of the phone under your sheets as you look through the app. 

You look at the trending tab. Y/N L/N, London Boy, Ricky James, Eren Jaeger, and love is dead are trending. 

You press your bolded name and swipe to the recents tab, scrolling through every tweet, each one categorizing, sticking in your mind as you scroll. A mix of the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

That you’re pretty. That you’re ugly. That you have no personality, that you write mediocre songs, that you’re the best actress from Attack on Titan. That you’re lucky for bagging Ricky James and Eren, that you’re too good for Eren, that you’re horrible for writing the song. 

You place the phone flat on the sheets, the absence of light making your eyes sting, as the tears string out of your eyes. 

You want to make your cake and eat it too. 

But is it even worth it if this is how you have to get there? 

--

You stick your hand out, swinging it in the air with Ricky as you do your handshake, and plop onto the couch. Danny and Sareen called a meeting with Ricky’s team before you guys went to the wrap party for The Proposal, which is the only thing on your calendar that you were actually looking forward to this month. 

Because Annie and Armin are the leads and because you know Levi and Hange are going to be there. 

“This is Michael and Nancy. They’re my talent managers.” Ricky states, pointing out the two people across from you. 

“Sareen and Danny. Sareen’s my manager and Danny’s my producer.” 

“Is he behind the genius of London Boy?” Ricky asks, smirking at you. 

“Shut up. London Boy isn’t about you, Ricky.” 

“Oh, shut up. I know I’m your muse.” 

The line sits in your stomach wrong, because all you can think about is Eren. Seventeen year old Eren, shimmering green eyes on that empty set when you wrote New Year’s Day. You shake your head as Danny turns to the two of you, a smile on his face. 

“We have an idea.” Danny states, a smile on his face. 

You and Ricky nod as Nancy and Sareen start laying out the plan, each consecutive word twisting horribly in your stomach. 

Surely they can’t be serious. 

“We think that the two of you should date, as a PR move.” Sareen states, handing over a folder to you. 

There’s dates listed out, public places where they want you and Ricky to meet at, and songs they want you to release about each other. All down to the slated releases, ideas for album covers, and interviews they want you to do. 

“This is part of Y/N’s triple threat campaign. I think putting in this whole ruse of a relationship and writing songs about it, especially if there’s some part of it that will be drama because of Eren and Lana, it’s even better.” 

“Lana?” you ask. 

“She’s Ricky’s old girlfriend. They aren’t dating anymore, which is something that we should capitalize on. For the both of you. This should get Ricky into the leagues for the Album of the Year award when he releases next year.” Nancy states, flipping through the pages. 

You look over at Ricky, ready to fully shut down the idea. But when you turn your head to him, he’s flipping through the pages, writing down his own ideas in the folder. 

“Ricky. You’re not actually considering this, are you?” you whisper. 

“You aren’t?” 

“I’m dating Eren. No, I’m not considering fake dating you for the press.” 

“Eren, who was seen on a date with Myka yesterday? Right.” he states bluntly, flipping through the pages. 

“That’s just tabloids, Ricky. Be serious.” 

“And so is this. Myka and Eren are in a movie together. You and I are musicians. You can do the same thing as him and I bet you he wouldn’t even care. And he shouldn’t, because your career comes first.” Ricky states, leaning forward on his knees to discuss more with Danny and Sareen. 

You flip through the folder again, each consecutive page filled with more and more details of how they want you and Ricky to pretend. And the last page has the words bolded, little stars around them. 

Y/N gets triple threat status! Ricky gets Album of the Year! 

“Y/N. Have your cake and eat it too.” Danny warns, a reminder of what you’re supposed to be prioritizing. 

“This is the time to run, Y/N. You’re almost there.” Sareen affirms, the two of them nodding as they look at you. 

And by the way five of them are staring at you, big eyes filled with anticipation as they wait for your response, you know you can’t say no. That insurmountable pressure - to please, to be successful, to be the best - wins out, every time.

Danny’s produced for three different hit pop stars. Sareen’s managed some of the biggest names in the industry. And you have no idea who Nancy and Michael even are, but if they’re working with Ricky, they’ve got to be in the big leagues. 

You put the folder down, giving all of them a nod, as they all erupt into cheers. Ricky leans forward to give you a kiss on the cheek, which you tell him to save for the cameras, as you take the folder and walk out. 

And figure out how you’re going to tell Eren. 

--

You head to the wrap party three hours later and any excitement you had about the event is immediately drained when you know that Eren’s going to be there and you have to talk to him about it. Break up with him. 

“Y/N!” 

You turn around to find Armin and Annie, the two of them wrapping their arms around you as they press kisses to your cheeks. You try to stifle the literal tears that are making their way to your eyes at the sight of them, their blue eyes the same soft ones you’ve always known. 

“Annie. Armin. I’m so excited for the movie, I’m sure it’s going to be great.” you say, squeezing both of their hands. 

Two of your shyest friends still, they’re both blushing at the praise as Connie and Sasha walk up. You’re wrapping your arms around all of them, as everyone else - Reiner, Mikasa, and Jean - join you. 

“So Y/N. London Boy, huh?” Connie asks, smirking. 

“Did you guys know that Eren is from London?” Sasha says, sarcastically. 

“Oh, quit it. It’s just one of those PR things. The triple threat thing made them all go crazy.” you respond. 

“We respect the hustle, Y/N.” Connie states, mock saluting you with Jean. 

“There is no press better than you and Eren releasing Medicine and Dress on the same day.” Mikasa states, earning a bunch of laughter from the group. 

“Oh god. Don’t remind me. Whore move, from the both of you.” Reiner says, pinching your cheek. Connie mocks the ah ah ah, from Dress, which has you all laughing.

You smack his hand off as Marco slings his hand around your shoulders, squeezing hard and smiling at you so big, in earnest, that it makes your chest hurt. 

“Can you believe it? You’re so close to it, Y/N - I can feel it.” Marco says, leaning forward to press a kiss onto your cheek. 

You reach up to squish the plush of his cheek as Marco mimics your movements, the two of you smiling at each other. And then you feel two warm hands on your shoulder and turn around to see Eren, soft green eyes looking into yours. 

And it makes you burst into tears. Soft green eyes, albeit a little tired looking, and Eren’s hair all grown out. When did Eren grow his hair out to his Season Three length? The last time you saw him, it was so short. He looks the same. He feels far away. And that pressure in your head is resounding. 

“Yeesh.” Connie says at the sight of your spilling tears, earning quiet laughs from everyone. 

Eren brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping the wetness away, as he glares at Connie. 

“Connie.” Eren warns, the tone in his voice threatening. 

“Sorry. Just missed him, that’s all.” you respond, wiping the last of the wetness off your face as they all smile at you. 

“Man, every time I see one of you, you’re crying.” Hange says from behind you, the group of you turning your heads and immediately tackling them and Levi into hugs. Eren reaches for Hange first and you go for Levi, his stupid minty smell making your tears return. 

You look up at Levi, who's glaring at you, and can’t help but smile. 

“Levi. You could at least pretend you’re happy to see me.” 

“I am happy to see you. But not when you’re crying in public. You two are going to give me an ulcer.” he states, frowning as he glares at Eren at your side. 

You look over at Eren, the end of what Hange said catching up with you. 

“You cried in front of them? About what, Eren?” you ask, voice soft. 

“Ah. Nothing.” Eren responds, cheeks lightly pink as he runs his hand through his hair. 

You both let go of Hange and Levi as Armin and Annie take to the makeshift stage, giving a little speech about their time on the film and how grateful they are for everyone in the room for supporting them. And as they do, Eren jabs his elbow into your side. 

“Ow. What gives?” you whisper. 

Eren places hand on his chest, feigning shock. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot our secret hand signals already?” he whispers. 

Jab in the side. Meaning, you need a second to talk, away from everyone. 

“As if.” you respond, giving a nod to his sign. 

He gives you a smile as you both turn your heads back to Annie and Armin, who are playing the trailer on the screen now. And when they finish, the resounding noise of the claps are the last thing you and Eren hear when you go out to the balcony, the cold air surrounding you both. 

You wrap your hands around your arms, which Eren picks up on too fast and suddenly he’s taking his coat off and wrapping it around you. Making a point to pull your hair out of the collar, hands focused on fixing your hair around your face. 

“Eren.” 

“Yes?” 

“I-” 

The words die on your tongue. Because here he is, the perfect green eyes you fell in love with staring at you in the lamplight of the dark, and you can’t say it. You can’t shatter his heart into pieces or be the one to let him go. 

When he’s one of the only things you’ve wanted.

“I know how you feel, Y/N. You don’t have to say it.” he whispers, hands tucking your hair behind your ears before letting go. 

You can feel the tears spilling out of your eyes as you frown at him, the look on his face so pained that it hurts. 

“I’m guessing they don’t want you to see me, at least not for right now?” Eren asks. 

You nod, aggressively wiping away the wetness on your cheeks as you reach for his hands, squeezing three times. You hate that he knows. That Danny and Sareen think he isn’t good enough for you. When you’ve always been the one who was never in the same league as him. 

That Eren was the one who defended you when you were there, but no one’s letting you do it for him. 

“I still love you, Eren. You-you know that?” 

“I know that.” he whispers, nodding. His eyes are focused on your hands, interlocked with his. He reaches in for your bicep, fingers tracing over the fish tattoo right above your elbow. 

“Fishbowl, Y/N. We’ll come back to each other when it’s time. Just don’t be a stranger.” he says. 

You nod, reaching forward and wrapping your arms around him as you nearly sob into his chest, his voice soothing your hiccuping, even though you’re the one who just smashed him into pieces. And when Eren wraps his hands around your cheeks, giving you one last lingering kiss, before walking away, you can’t help but sit there in the cold, his jacket wrapped around you and letting the tears bite on your skin. 

--

You close your phone, giving Ricky a glowing smile, as you both settle into your seats at the Institute Music Awards. The two of you officially went public earlier today, though you’re both still denying any rumors that you’re dating. 

“How does Ricky compare to Eren?” 

You try to hide your scoff as you answer, trying your best to stay neutral in your response to avoid becoming a headline the next day. 

“I’ll always have so much love for Eren. We grew up together and really came into this hand in hand and no one could ever really take that away. And there’s no bad blood between us, we’ll always be best friends.” you respond, giving them a polite smile as you walk away and swallow hard. 

You can see Eren twenty feet down, in a specially designed suit that he looks wonderful in, smiling for the cameras. He’s standing in between Hyla and Myka, since their film is premiering in a few days. 

“You look green, doll.” 

You turn around to find Sukuna, who you fake punch in the shoulder and glare at, before pulling him in for a hug. 

“You sure you’re not talking about yourself? That’s your girl down there.” 

“Jesus, Y/N. Don’t ever associate me with her again.” Sukuna mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“Oh? Was it not you saying she wasn’t that bad when we were kids?” you tease, poking into the soft of his cheek. 

“Well, that was before I found everything out. I’d say a prayer for your boy over there, he’s about to get himself into a gnarly mess he won’t be able to get out of.” Sukuna responds, eyes focused on Eren and Hyla posing together a few feet down. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, linking your arm with his as the two of you walk down, past him. You make it a point to attempt to make eye contact with Eren, but he’s too focused on Hyla that he misses you all together. 

“I just mean…he’s about to get himself involved in things he shouldn’t. And you should stay far away.” Sukuna states, giving Ricky a polite smile as he joins you at your side. Sukuna gives you one last kiss on the cheek before Ricky links his arm with yours, dragging you to your seats. 

You both settle into the seats, giving Marco a big smile as he sits next to you. 

“Hey. Where’s Hisu? I saw her name card here earlier but it’s not here anymore.” you whisper, as the lights start dimming ahead. 

Marco winces, giving you an awkward smile as he puts his hand over yours and squeezes. 

“She doesn’t want to sit with Ricky. Or you.” 

“Oh.” 

“Just for today, Y/N. Because of the history and all that, you-you know that.” 

You shake your head, ignoring the stinging, as you give Marco a half-hearted smile, nodding. 

“No yeah. I get it. I’ll talk to her soon.” 

“Okay.” Marco responds, giving you a smile. 

You make it a point to do your best throughout the awards show, fake whispering in Ricky’s ears every time the camera is on you two, holding hands and comparing hand sizes, letting him tuck your hair behind your ear once and a while. 

And it’s all going great and peachy, until Hyla gets called on stage to perform. You crane your neck back to find Sukuna, giving him a warning glance as he rolls his eyes, making the motion that he’s choking himself. 

One of the most insane things about Hyla and Sukuna’s beef? The fact that they perform and write songs about each other, that are so insanely written, that they trend for weeks. 

You’re sure Hyla and Sukuna are what Danny and Sareen dream about in their free time. 

Hyla gets on stage, giving everyone a soft smile as a few of the girls join her on stage, adjusting their microphones. You can feel Ricky squeezing your hand hard, his jaw clenched. 

“You good?” 

“The lineup. Hyla, Myka, and Lana.” he responds, glaring at the three of them. 

You focus your eyes on the third girl, Lana, who is Ricky’s ex-girlfriend. The only reason he wants to fake date you. Apparently, the two of them broke up after you and Ricky started trending, her insecurities about the people’s words overruling any reassurance that Ricky could give her. 

“This is my new song, it’s called Girlfriend. I hope you all like it.” Hyla says, giving a smile as the upbeat music starts. 

Hey, hey, you, you  I don’t like your girlfriend  No way, no way I think you need a new one Hey, hey, you, you I could be your girlfriend

You lean back as you observe the visuals and the line of backup dancers supporting the three of them singing, their performance extremely upbeat and punk pop star that you can’t help but tap your feet to the beat of the song. 

That’s until they reach the bridge. When Hyla pulls one of the back-up dancers from the background to the front and Lana pulls Eren on stage, the two of them are seated on the makeshift chairs on the stage. Hyla’s singing around Eren, rolling her eyes at the back-up dancer. 

Who's wearing the exact outfit that you wear on your tour, a sparkly, billowing pink dress. And when you take her in properly, you realize that she’s supposed to be you. The same hairstyle, eye color, skin tone. You can feel your throat dry as you watch Eren’s cheeks tinted pink on stage as Hyla sings around him, the entire audience erupting into cheers. 

(Oh) In a second, you'll be wrapped around my finger  'Cause I can, 'cause I can do it better There's no other, so when's it gonna sink in? She's so stupid, what the hell were you thinkin'?

You feel Marco’s hand on yours, squeezing hard, as you focus in on the performance, trying to ignore the fact that the big, black camera is shining on your face and that everyone in the room is looking at you. And that millions of people must be talking about it at home. You turn back to give Levi a look and he shakes his head, mouthing don’t cry which you halfheartedly nod in response too. 

Jean and Armin have switched seats with the two girls behind you, their hands on your shoulders, squeezing, as Eren and Hyla walk off stage, hand in hand past the back up dancer who’s supposed to be you - who's crying fake buckets of tears now. 

And when it’s all done and over, you skip the afterparties and let Mikasa drive you home. She tucks you into your sheets, making it a point to help you wipe all your makeup off and leave a bottle of water by your bed, you sink into your sheets and do it again. Let that overwhelming, embarrassing, deep rooted hatred sink in. 

And pull up Twitter. Read about how everyone hates you. Relive the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you yet. Stare at pictures of Eren and Hyla and ignore the resounding sound of the applause the two of them received.

--

next part linked here

taglist:

@k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai  @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha  @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasberr @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo

pls comment on this post or any of the chapters if you want to be added to the taglist <3

[blackmistral]

Alcina Headcanons

Hii! I have a bit of a writer's block at the moment so I don't know when I'll post the fic I'm currently writing, but I did this meanwhile. I think I'll post ten more tomorrow. Love you <3

1. How do they feel about people shorter/taller than them?     I mean… I think we all have the same thoughts about this. In my opinion, she LOVES being taller than her lover. Besides, she’s so tall that no one can be taller than her anyway.

2. Their sexuality?     She’s super duper gay. Like, we all know she hates men, so she’s definitely a lesbian. 

3. Preferred weather?     I don't think she really cares since she’s she doesn't get out of the castle much. But she likes reading in the library when it rains, though.

4. What’s their sleeping schedule?     Before she has a lover: since she doesn’t need to sleep, I don’t think she actually sleeps every night but when she does, she goes to bed around 10-11pm (because of all the paperwork she has to do) and wakes up very early (5-6am).     If she has one: she tries to sleep at the same time as them, so that depends on when they are tired.

5. Favorite song?     My favorite romantic song is her favorite song guys. ‘At Last’ by Etta James. She also likes Frank Sinatra in my opinion (‘The World we Knew’ precisely). She just loves quiet and old songs (although I think she secretly loves Lady Gaga).

6. How’s their cooking?     One word. Terrible. As she never had to cook because she’s had maids and servants her whole life, she probably never learned how to cook properly.

7. What’s their sleeping position?     100% the (big) spoon. She loves to have her beloved close to her when they are both asleep so they know they are safe with her.

8. Something small that they enjoy?     I don’t know if it’s small but she looooves to know what her lover likes to do or what they did in the day. She’ll just sit and listen to whatever ramblings they tell her because she’s happy that they feel like they can share their day with her.

9. How do they feel about physical contact by others?     It really depends on who. She likes to hug her daughters and beloved but if Heisenberg asked one (which would never happen lol) she would absolutely kick his ass. But like I said, she’s heavy on physical contact witch the people she loves.

10. How well do they take care of themselves?            I’m not sure about this one. Like obviously she never leaves her bedroom without makeup on, but I don’t think she really takes care of herself. The only thing she does to “take care” of her skin is to take blood baths. 

[sleepanonymous]

Good evening fear I'd like to say it's been a while But really I have seen enough of you to last a lifetime In the gap between a smile and every unforgotten tear...

Recently I've read between the lines Outside the supermarkets Selling every single type of positive emotion Stacked in tiny little bottles Filled with tiny little bubbles That rise like stones that Wished for more than lying there Inanimate and hopeless at the bottom of a riverbed Projecting every parallel of my life In a vacuum-packed synthetic hell What have I done?

How am I supposed to be a human being? When I'm so scared of the future How are we supposed to function? When all we know is we're running out of time

Propaganda melting through this magazine Reflected in computer screens A manufactured fame machine Coming to a cinema near you To tell you you're one of the lucky few Who gets see things from a different view High above the famine and the pain relief pills And I've got too much time to kill Too much empty space to fill With crumpled sheets of paper Failed attempts at finding out why This adolescent outcry is drowned Beneath a sea of empty visions

How am I supposed to be a human being? When I'm so scared of the future How are we supposed to function? When all we know is we're running out of time

This is all we need This is all we need Is this all we need?

(What are you afraid of?)

Yeah, I reckon it'd be hard for Ves not to make every song completely depressing too. Just take a look at his discography so far.

ALSO!! I have an update for the Lost Media folder of my Google Drive. Due to some requests, I added three MP3s that aren't necessarily baby Ves on vocals, but a partner while he plays the piano/keyboard. I have a cover of Katy Perry's I Kissed a Girl, a cover of Etta James's At Last, and a cover of Gabrielle Aplin's The Power of Love.

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Resolution — Frankie "Catfish" Morales x reader

inspired by the song Resolution by Matt Corby. tell me what you think and requests and suggestions are appreciated.

word count: under 1K

Frankie Morales doesn’t buy into New Year’s resolutions.

They strike him as futile, and frankly, he doesn’t bother with them. And while the world outside is turning into a chaos of flimsy promises, doomed to be broken before the month’s end, January 1st finds Frankie where most days do—in the corner of his favourite coffee haunt, nursing a black brew that mirrors his mood. 

And as always, he sits alone and still. Observing. Reflecting, sometimes maybe. Bust mostly, just being.

But then, the routine shatters. Subtly, beautifully. In the flicker of change that slips through the staff-only door wearing an apron that’s tied haphazardly around the waist.

Small in stature but immense in spirit, the newcomer draws Frankie’s attention, compelling him to steal a glance. And then another, and one more. And when your eyes eventually catch (though yours shy away while his linger) Frankie finds a small but genuine ray of light breaking through the gloom of his sky.

Your first exchanges are brief. You stutter greetings and he meets them with his quiet acknowledgments as you take his orders. Your hands, unsteady and unpracticed, flutter in a dance of clumsiness—a stark contrast to the precision and discipline that govern Frankie’s world.

And each time, two hearts quicken and skip over their beats, though carefully concealed—camouflaged within Etta James’ soft crooning in the background, the hiss of the coffee machine, or the gentle hum of conversations happening around you.

So, the days blend into weeks and weeks into months, the first trees blossom and so do your interactions. You’re still dropping cups and mixing up orders, but you also learn how to brew a pretty damn fine espresso. Frankie, for his part, ventures from the solitude of his corner to the vibrant life at the counter, his time now measured by crossword puzzles and quick, stolen glances in your direction.

One day, as you lean across the counter, curiosity piqued by the crossword puzzle Frankie ponders over, you venture, “Need a hand with that?”

A pause, a heartbeat swallowed by time, then his eyes lift from the tangled web of words, meeting yours with a smile.

“Bounty hunter in the Star Wars universe. Eight letters?”

Your response is a momentary pause. Another smile, and then, two words "Boba Fett," as you look towards the door, ready to greet a new customer.

When the streets grow covered with fallen leaves, and the calendar crosses the summer away, it’s no longer just pleasantries and botched acrosses and downs, but coffee refills and slices of leftover pie after hours. It’s giggles, and it's jitters, and shivers. It’s confessions, dreams and pasts. Frankie learns about you through spilled coffee and burnt toast, and you manage to peel back the layers of his tough exterior, discovering a kindred spirit whose scars resonate as deeply as your own.

As the year cycles back to its frost-kissed start, the evening of December 31st finds Frankie where most days used to do—in the corner of his favourite coffee haunt. 

And as always, he sits alone and still. Observing. Reflecting, maybe. Bust mostly, just being. And now, waiting.

Waiting for you to burst from the staff-only door, but only this time, there's no apron cinched around your waist—instead, a worn-out winter coat envelops you, as warm as the smile you wear while you step outside.

Snow blankets the ground, a chill sweeps through the air. People walk by with a festive spring in their step. Fireworks bloom in the distance, their colours reflected in the laughter that fills the night. 

"Never been one for New Year's resolutions," Frankie muses next to you as he looks up at the sky. "Always seemed like a fool's errand."

"And yet, here you are, sounding like someone who’s made one for the new year," you tease, catching the subtle shift in his demeanor.

A smile, slight but sincere, graces his lips. "Yeah, maybe this year is different," he admits, his gaze drifting from the stars to lock with yours, a silent acknowledgment of the shift within him.

"And what's this resolution?"

His hand, though unsteady, reaches out to gently caress your cheek. "Here's a hint: Makes a damn fine espresso. Three letters?"

“Let me guess,” you smile, “it’s you.”

"Yeah," he breathes out, his words barely a whisper as his lips find yours, sealing a moment. A year. A beginning. "It's you."

—

tag: @pedroschka

[persephone11110]

rain is a good thing

Jake‘Hangman’Seresin x Reader

Chapter 2: I Can’t Breathe

warnings: exes share the same bed, mentions of scars, past mentions of abusive relationship- reader ex byf, taking care of one another, mentioning of injury—reader cut her hand in chpt1, mentions of past choking, implied child abuse protective jake seresin, reader and jake are angsty assholes towards eachother, the chapter is in 2022

Chapter Summary: Your still trying to wrap your head around the fact that your ex boyfriend was sleeping next to you- that he remember your fear and much less your address.

author note: this took forever to write and but with that heres chapter 2, I wanted to thank everyone who continues to like everything!!, the actual chapters are present day which is set 22’ both chpt 1&2 Jake already been called back. also the reader and Jake started dating in 2015ish and broke up in 2019, I didn’t wanted the chapter to end on a happy note, can we tell I love Etta James first lyric is from A Sunday Kind Of Love

WC: 1.2K

Previous | Next

Series Masterlist

—

Last night had be a fever dream, your head pressed into Jakes chest, how he ran his fingers all throughout your hair. When he rattle through your dressers trying to find you both new clothes he noticed his orange sweatshirt, “I’ve been looking for that all this time and she had it this entire time”. Shaking his head he pulled the sweatshirt over your head, knowing how much his cologne calmed you.

You and Dr. Michaels next session is going to much longer than usual.

Of all the things you expect to see after last night — this wasn’t one of them. Your ex boyfriend standing at your stove flipping pancakes wearing nothing but a white towel around his waist, lip syncing to Etta James.

I want a sunday kind of love.

Your leaning aganist the couch wearing a small smirk, he hasn’t changed a bit just the muscles Jake had from two years ago have gotten bigger. He flips another pancake“Sweetheart staring at my v-neck is going to slow me down”.

Jake turns the stove down- walking towards you with a big grin on his face, “Hungry Y/n?”.

“I am very hungry”. you gently shove past Jake scooping a pancake out of the pan onto your plate.“Aren’t you going to eat too Jake?”, you ask him holding a plate out, Jake scratches the back of his neck, his face reddened—dirty bastard. You decided to act oblivious to Jakes sexual innuendo more interested in the food infront of your face. “You know wherever everything is Jake”.

You stood at the counter scarfing down food versus Jake sitting at the island with a fork in his hand. “Y/n your gonna choke if you keep eating like that”. Jake raised his eyebrows at how animalistic you ate your food,“ Remember the last time I had to the heimlich on our third date because you were swallowing the steak without chewing it first”.

You glared at Jake rolling your eyes at his mother-hen antics to calm his nerves you pull a chair up to the island. Sitting in front of him, he hands you a fork. “Y/n I promise all the food I made and what you put on your plate is all yours”. Jake gives you a reassuring smile before stabbing at his strawberries with his fork.

He remembered, to bad Travis never did he always reminded you to eat as little as possible whether it was breakfast, lunch or dinner. He hated how much you ate on a daily basis, leaving notes on the fridge, on your nightstand in your car— saying eat less.

You couldn’t blame him, you did eat like a pig especially if it was food that your taste buds enjoyed to no end. “Y/n I can’t fucking form a sentence when you all your doing is your rattling fingers in a damn chip bag, he snatched the chip bag from you tossing it across the bedroom.“Next time be fucking considerate”.

“Thanks for last night,and for breakfast …” you fumble to find more words to say but Jake holds his hand up cutting you before you could struggle even longer for the right words.

“Y/n we might be exes but you needed help, its not like you wouldn’t do it for me either, as I remember someone saying something long the lines of I’d run every red light If I had to if meant getting to you”.

You blush at how Jake uses your sentiment words aganist you. You couldn’t help but think to your past relationship why couldn’t Jake do this when you two were together. What changed Jake?, did he find a girl that he changed for, was she worth his time?

You must’ve spent sometime in your head with your spiraling thoughts because Jake says your name with concern attached to it. “Y/n something bothering you?”.

“When did you realize you didn’t love me anymore?”

Thinking back to two years ago when you declared to Jake that you couldn’t take being on the bottom of his priority list. You never asked when and why he lost his love for you, what made him stop caring about your feelings.

Jake swears he heard you wrong,“Darlin theres no reason to end the peace we have going on right now”. He attempts to sway your thinking, turning the conversation onto something else,“Why don’t I make something else to go on your plate?”.

“I mean it Jake was something I did?,— did I gain to much weight, did I have to much emotional baggage for you to handle?”. You get up from the table, walking to the couch.

“Darlin n-no It wasn’t you I—”. Jake gets up to walking towards you, “I couldn’t balance my work life and love life at once alright Y/n it was never you”. Jake eyebrows furrow when he realizes your injured hand. He wants to reach and grab your hand and it inspect it more, but Jake knows how much you hate being touch during a moment like this.

You almost want to let the scoff sitting on your tongue escape. He’s acting like you don’t work hours as a trauma nurse, as if you didn’t see people die almost everyday of your life. As if you didn’t play god with their lives.

“Bullshit”. your voice in more harsher tone than before,“You decided that you didn’t love me anymore because you didn’t feel the urge anymore”. You backed away from him,“Do you know how many nights I spent in our relationship even after we broke up trying to piece together why I was so worthless of your basic love and affection or your fucking attention”. A watery chuckle escapes your mouth betraying the pure anger and confidence in your voice.

“As if you can fucking talk darlin your hours as a nurse aren’t so different from the hours I worked”. Jake standing over you now, his jaw vibrating with anger.“How dare you Y/n”.

“Yeah I worked but I made sure I set aside time for you—for us”. your lips pressed together in frustration, why can’t he just stand there and listen.

Jake crosses his arm with a angered expression and you swear you saw Travis’s face.“Are you listening to me?”. Your walking towards your apartment door—ready to run away from Travis knowing what about happen. “I tried Y/n you just make me hit you”.

“Y/n can you just stand still please I actually want to talk this out”. His accent thick with irritation,Jake grabbed you by the wrist a little to tight.

“Just lay there Y/n”you can hear Travis’s vicious voice in the back of your head. At first you feel paralyzed with paronia unable to movie afraid for your life.

You snatched your wrist from Jakes hand,“Get the fuck out” you angrily point to the door.

He scoffs,“I can’t believe I thought you matured enough to have a conversation without your feelings getting hurt, I should’ve stayed home when I heard your desperate voicemail cry for help Y/n”. He snatched his wallet and keys from the table.

“To answer your fucking question I realized the morning you left me with a little goodbye note”. Jake slams the door behind him leaving you standing with a heavy feeling in your gut.

Tears shook through your body.

I hate you, I love you.

Taglist: @chocolatefartstrawberry,@buckysteveloki-me, @dontletthemtakeyoualive, @kellyls04, @els-marvelvsp, @classyunknownlover, @i-am-mrsreckless,

[in-my-feels-probably]

Hey it’s me with the sick dog, but I was hoping to request like a super fluffy fic like established relationship, super domestic and just fluffy. Maybe watching a new horror movie or something. I don’t mind who but i’m partial to Remus, Sirius and Theo Nott

Timeless

Request: I was hoping to request like a super fluffy fic like established relationship, super domestic and just fluffy. Maybe watching a new horror movie or something. I don’t mind who but i’m partial to Remus, Sirius and Theo Nott

Hi! I hope this makes your day a little better, I tried making this pretty fluffy. I’m happy to write you something else if this isn’t what you were looking for, but hopefully you like this! I hope you have a good day, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? let me know if i missed anything)

—

Sirius had always loved the simple things.

He had grown up around magic all his life. As he got older, he realized just how much he relied on it. But he also knew just how much it had hurt him over the years, often being way more trouble than it was worth. When he met you, you were like a breath of fresh air. He loved how differently you had grown up compared to him. When you graduated from Hogwarts, you moved into a flat together on the outskirts of London. 

It was a community far enough from the city that you could safely still use your magic without being seen, but you also didn’t have to rely on it. Anything you needed wasn’t hard to get—all you had to do was take a short walk into town. It took Sirius some getting used to, but he eventually fell in love with your little home away from the life he had always known. 

He relished in the domesticity and simplicity of the life you had together, and it eventually felt natural to him.

One of his favorite muggle inventions you showed him was the TV. He sat on the couch for nearly a week after you moved in, cycling through all the movies and shows you had mentioned to him over the years. He also loved the movie theater, and it became a staple on your date nights in town. When you were too lazy to go out and do something, but you still wanted to spend time together, you’d have a movie night. Sirius would go around the corner to the little diner run by a sweet old couple and pick up food for you to eat while you watched your movie. 

It was your night to pick the movie this time, and Sirius came in the door just as you had put it on.

“Etta and George say hello,” Sirius said, tossing his keys on the counter before placing the food on the coffee table, taking a seat next to you. “And Etta wanted me to tell you that she thought you looked really pretty last week when we came by the diner.”

You could feel your heart warm as you leaned into his side. “That’s so sweet.”

“So, what are we watching?” He asked as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, settling into the couch. 

“It’s called Halloween. Remus knew I've been wanting to watch it, so he came by earlier and let me borrow his copy—remind me to bring it back to him sometime by the way. Anyway, it’s supposed to be pretty scary. Is that alright with you?”

“Think I can’t handle it, darling?” Sirius asked, a grin on his face. “You don’t think I’m brave?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I think you’re very brave. I also think you’re very prone to screaming like a child when something surprises you. Remember when James was over last week and you didn’t know he was here? You nearly jumped out of your skin when he came out of the bathroom.”

“I just wasn’t prepared for another man to be in my flat, let alone waltzing out of my bathroom like he owns it. You can understand my surprise, darling. It wouldn’t have happened under any other circumstances.”

“I see,” you mused, pressing play as you turned your attention to the TV. “So, you aren’t gonna be hiding your face in my arm by the end of the film?”

Sirius smirked, shaking his head at your teasing. “I think I’ll make it without resorting to that. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“My pleasure.”

—

Sirius barely made it twenty minutes in before he was already shifting uncomfortably next to you, a grimace on his face. You hid your smirk behind your sleeve, keeping your eyes on the screen. 

“I’m gonna kick Moony’s ass,” he muttered under his breath, so quiet you could barely hear him. “Masochistic bastard.”

“Want me to turn it off?” You asked, reaching for his hand.

Sirius gladly accepted, squeezing your hand tight. He just shook his head, continuing to watch the movie. At every intense scene or flashes of gore, you could feel him squeezing your hand tighter. By the time you made it halfway in, you couldn’t feel your fingers. When the movie was finally over, he let out a sigh of relief. He relaxed into the couch, his grip on your hand easing. 

“Never again,” he said as he turned to face you. “We’re watching Grease next time. I don’t have to worry about my heart bursting out of my chest watching Grease.”

You chuckled, running your hand up and down his forearm. “You made it, though. And you didn’t cry, not even once.”

“Very funny,” he pouted, but he made no move to pull his arm away from your touch. 

“I’m just teasing,” you smiled, leaning into his side. “I’m proud of you. You watched the whole thing, even though you weren’t enjoying it. It was very brave. Thank you for indulging me.”

“Thank you for letting me nearly break your hand. Are you alright, by the way? I didn’t mean to squeeze that hard.”

You chuckled, nodding. “It’s fine, love. It doesn’t even hurt.”

—

You talked as you finished your food, a random shitty soap opera playing on the TV in the background. It was one you both pretended not to be interested in, even though you both secretly had become quite invested in the plot more than a few episodes ago. 

“How long do you think Etta and George have been together?” Sirius asked, finishing what was left of his fries.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, leaning over to steal a fry. “The diner has been there since I was a kid. There used to be a little record store on the corner, and I’d always pass the diner on my way. They’ve been together for quite a long time, I think.”

“Do you ever wonder what we’re gonna be like when we’re their age?”

You smiled, nodding. “Sometimes. Hopefully we’re still in love, and not sick of each other. That would be a shame—you’re too pretty for frown lines.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and Sirius let out a chuckle. He playfully nudged his elbow into your side, feigning offense. Suddenly, he yawned, reaching a hand up to rub at tired eyes. 

“Sleepy, love?” You asked, motioning for him to lay down. 

Sirius pivoted to swing his legs over the arm of the couch, resting his head in your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I wouldn’t mind ending up like Etta and George. Running their business, still together and in love. That’s years and years of happiness. We could have that. Our little flat and our diner on the corner. It's simple. Peaceful. I could get used to it—couldn’t you?

Sirius smiled, nodding. “Yeah…yeah, I could.”

It was quiet for a moment as you continued running your fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead. Sirius kept his eyes closed, a content smile on his face. A warmth spread through your chest as he nuzzled his head into your lap, his cheek pressed against your thigh.

“I bet Etta doesn’t make George watch scary movies,” Sirius said unexpectedly, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You rolled your eyes, trying and failing to fight a grin. “I bet Etta has never heard George scream like a little girl.”

“Fair play, darling. Fair play.”

—

A/N - Hi! Thank you again for the request, I hope you liked this :)

[neonovember]

Almost

summary: weeks away on a covert operation had steve longing to be where he was meant to: between your thighs. Didn’t they say distance made the heart grow fonder?

warnings; overstimulation, depraved steve as well as touch starved? steve, smut, p in v, housewife kink, mentions of violence

a/n: steve is like, really depraved in this..A mission goes wrong and what does he do? Takes it out on your pussy :)

The smooth sounds of Etta James waft through the kitchen, the vinyl recorder Sam had gifted the both of you sits perched on the windowsill nook.

You’re almost done with the roast you’ve prepped earlier, preheating the oven before clearing away the dirtied utensils strewn about the granite countertop. Steve would be coming home tonight, finally, after 2 weeks away on some undercover mission Fury refused to tell you about.

God you truly felt like a part of you was missing each time he slung his duffel bag across his body, your heart aching with every passing day where you didn’t where or how he was, always left on edge for fear of getting that phone call.

Missions like these were rare but they still were expected from the super soldier, and at times you wished that he was solely yours, not America’s golden boy.

You usually cooked together, you and Steve, putting the expansive commercial oven to use, and with the summer evenings stretching into warm nights it was perfect to hold dinner parties for the rest of the team.

But there was something about cooking something just for him, your heart preened whenever he’d groan in appreciation for a meal that you created, testing out the waters with different flavours and tastes. He’d always eat your food he’d said, no matter if it tasted like hot garbage or a fine dining restaurant. You’d shoved him then, telling him your food would always be good. You didn’t go to culinary school and shelve over thousands of dollars that you were still paying, for it to be anything else.

Placing the marinated glazed chicken into the warmed oven you set the oven to cook for an hour, give or take, just in time for Steve’s arrival home. The house had already begun to smell like caramelised onions and honey and feared you might eat the whole thing before he gets here.

You began finishing the dessert you’d curated last night, the recipe was one you fine-tuned over these weeks, noting to add to your menu once you’d gotten Steve’s approval. He’d always helped you with the development of new menu items, with such enhanced senses it was like having a table full of experts, sometimes you’d even say he had better taste than you.

Sometimes.

The French doors of your shared home were left open, letting the syrupy warm rays flood into the living room, the smell of chrysanthemums you’d planted was wafting in, and the gentle crash of waves glided with the jazz sounds coming from your vinyl player.

You so badly wanted to lay on the plush rug and just bask in the summer heat, it was just right, not too hot, but enough to get your skin warmed. Your mind shifted to summer days in which you and Steve lay just right there on the living room floor, your body sprawled out against his beating chest.

His soft words reading a novel or nimble hands across your warm body lulling you both to sleep. You can’t remember how long it’s been since you and Steve just existed, outside of missions and superhero duties, but just exist, as two people who were in love.

It was what made today all the more important, the super soldier mantle Steve rested on would be deserted for a couple weeks, after you’d challenge to sue Fury over refusing to give Steve his well-deserved break.

There was still a mountain of dishes waiting for you in the kitchen sink, and you began to roll up your skills to tackle them before you hear the front doors slam open, the bang of it vibrating throughout the expansive house.

You glance at the chestnut case that has your pistol in it, the one Steve gifted you when he was away on missions and anxious about your safety.

You’d spend countless hours with both Steve and Natasha learning how to shoot properly, the kickback now gliding with your body instead of pushing you two steps back.

You found that you were quite good at it anyway, the blaring bull's eye shots in the shooting range causing Natasha to question if you really were who you said you were.

If anybody walked through that hallway looking for a helpless wife to take advantage of, they would be met with a hole in their chest, Steve made sure of it.

There is a loud thud, like something big and heavy dropping to the ground, and it causes you to bristle, facing backwards from the opening hallway, fingers gripping the sink and eyes strained on the drawer to the right.

Maybe you weren’t the fearless woman you thought you were.

You begin to maneuver your body to reach for your pistol before you hear the familiar sound of Steve’s boots against the hardwood floor.

Of course, it’s him.

You laugh at yourself as the beating in your heart eases, your chest evening out in neutral breaths and you're instead filled with eager excitement at his long-awaited arrival.

You turn quickly, a smile stretched almost painfully on your face, ready to meet the site of his open arms and warm smile. But Instead, you’re met with a quite different view.

Steve is standing there, still dressed down in his soldier uniform, the star dirtied with ash, blood and mud. His boots press into the hardwood floor, leaving large footprints marked with dirt.

Steve's eyes stare directly at you, unwavering and a deep cerulean blue. He looks animalistic, a wolf life expression that takes over his usual soft features, his blond hair tussles and mussed, all over the place as if he’s run his hands through it too many times.

His cheeks are rosy, and his knuckles are bruised and god why is it so hot in here? You can’t take your eyes away from his intense stare, mouth agape and your back pressed into the kitchen sink.

His chest is heaving up and down and he breaks his stare to let it travel across your body, eyes zeroing in on the apron he’d bought you, tied around your waist, hugging your curves and pressing your boobs, causing them to spill out.

Your hair is held up high, messy but kept out of your face, and you don’t think you look the picture of presentable, much less sexy but a dark look takes over his features, and his bloodied knuckles are pressed into tight fists.

The loud thunk of his shield drops to the floor, leaving an imprint of dirt and dust, and that simple act has you breathless, your thighs squeezing against each other.

What happened? Why was he acting like this? Steve was all smiles and soft kisses when he’d come back from missions, his demeanour now, well it almost looked as if he was still locked in his super soldier mindset, with you being the target.

“Steve?” You squeak out, gulping down a breath.

He growls, he literally growls, the sound vibrates through his chest and in two long strides he’s looming over your trembling figure.

You don’t have a second to react before he’s gripping your hips, maneuvering your body to bend over the granite countertop, lips crashing into your own.

He gulps down the moans that fill your mouth, hands trailing all across your body, squeezing, pinching, gripping. His shoulders relax as if the stress of everything has just been lifted off his shoulder, and his fingers come up to cradle your head, deepening the kiss.

His tongue trails over your lips, before biting down on them, causing you to let out a pretty squeak that allows him to shelve his tongue into your mouth. Steve was usually so gentle, all sweet honey kisses, now though, this kiss was anything but that. All teeth and tongue, the truth of his eagerness and insatiability falling into your mouth.

The bruising kiss begins to teeter on asphyxiation before he lets go of your lips with a loud pop, the instability burning in his dark orbs seems to shine even brighter now, as he begins to trail bruises down the column of your throat.

Steve begins to softly rock his body against your own, your head thrown back as you feel the stiff hard on press into the softness of your thighs.

Steve groans into your skin, sucking on the taste of it, vanilla and lavender bursting on his tongue from the body wash from earlier and your gardening from the morning.

He begins to move down your neck, leaving hickeys that were purposefully hard to obscure. Steve kneels at the foot of the counter, hands gripping your hips as he sucks a bruising kiss on the dimple sitting on your thigh.

Steve begins to murmur as you rack your fingers through his dirtied blonde strands,

“Mission..bad, you- you good. So fucking good” Steve groans as he reaches his fingers to tug your lace panties down. It’s all he says before he pulls them and tucks them into his pocket.

Your eyes widen as he rides your fitted apron up to your stomach, pushing your stomach down onto the granite countertop, before gripping your thighs, and placing them on his shoulders. He kisses his way to your pussy, licking at the skin, his harsh breaths on your clit causing you to moan loudly.

“Steve” You groan in earnest, needing him where he refused to be.

His eyes flicker up to your face, a smirk falling on his before he licks a long stripe through your folds, moaning at the taste, before sucking harshly. You groan his name loudly, head lulling back as you enjoy his harsh bruising tongue.

Steve moves his tongue to suck on your clit, his fingers coming up to caress your thighs, before shelving a digit into your pussy.

Steve begins to curl his thick fingers into you, eyes fixated on your withering body, watching every moan, every shiver, every groan of his name as he moves his tongue and hands to leave you in a heaping mess of arousal.

How long would it take before he broke you? The thought caused his erection to press painfully against him, spurring him to add a second digit. You try and close your legs, hands coming up to press against his chest before his thick arms come up to press your stomach back down.

Steve tutts mockingly, refusing to stop his rough mouth against your pussy and his fingers from pressing into your walls.

Your eyes begin to roll into the back of your head as Steve’s ring finger glides over a particularly spongy spot in your pussy, he grins against your clit, driving his fingers deeper into you as he curls them against the spot. Arousal drips from between his fingers, collecting onto the granite countertop as the wave of pleasure crashes down on you, Steve refuses to ease his motions, driving harsher and further as your orgasm violently.

Your thighs shake from beside his head, your back arching from the countertop as your vision clouds with saccharine pleasure.

You can’t speak, the broken syllables of his name the only thing falling from your lips as you lay shaking, uncontrollably. Steve’s eyes darken as he watches you, his mouth sucking onto your clit as he helps you ride the waves of your orgasm.

“That’s it, just like that my pretty girl, god don’t you look so pretty underneath me?” Steve mutters more to himself than anything, fingers trailing your trembling clit as he collects the last of your arousal, sucking on his digits as he slowly raises from his knelt position.

His hands come up to grip your waist, fingers wiping down across your face, before gripping your cheek, a singular thumb wiping the tears collecting on your waterline.

“What do you want?” Steve says, the question startles you, it’s Steve asking for your permission, the truth of his goodness shining through even at times like this, where you could practically feel his clothed cock bumping into your stomach and the shivers that went down his back as if he’d cum right then and there.

Steve would still jump into a cold shower if you told him to. But you didn’t, no you didn’t want that at all, you wanted him in you as deep as possible

“I want you Stevie, and I want it all” You whisper breathlessly, nails digging into his shoulder blade as he groans audibly. His eyes darken with a possessiveness that tells you you'll leave limping and blissed out. A shiver runs down your back as Steve trails his eyes down the prisms of your body underneath him, hands trailing over bite marks and bruises.

“Well, who am I to deny my pretty girl?” Steve says, before snapping his hips into the junction of your thighs. Steve doesn't give you a second to get accustomed to the sheer size and girth of his cock, before plummeting into you roughly, a groan passing his lips as your name falls and rolls over his tongue.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby, so fucking good” Steve moans into your skin, sucking on the slope of your shoulder as you grip onto him tightly, his cock hitting and gliding against your greedy walls just right.

“Been thinkin’ bout this the entire mission, almost got Sam killed cause this pretty little pussy was on my mind all. damn. day” Steve grunts, fasting his pace so that he rutted into you loudly, and with such ferociousness, you feared a bruise would appear.

The pornographic sounds of your moans and the thick slick of Steve's cock pounding into your dripping pussy echoed across the house, emulating into the front yard from the large open living room doors and for once you were glad your shared home was a further drive up from the surrounding neighbours

Your head lulls back as Steve’s thrusts deepen, your walls fluttering around his length as he repeatedly pounds into your cervix. Steve reaches his hands to grip your neck, and carefully raises your arched back to rest in his arms. With one hand wrapped around your waist, Steve raises your thigh to rest on his shoulder, enabling him to press you into the granite countertop, going impossibly deeper than you fear you would split in two.

“Just like that, god you take me so well doll, gripping me so fucking tight” Steve groans into your ear, his thumb tracing the outline of your face, pushing the strands of hair pack behind your ears and raising your body to grind onto his own.

Your hips begin to move on their own, your greedy pussy chasing the release that was just around the corner, Steve's cock brushes against the spongy spot he'd abused not even a few moments ago, slowing his pace to drive deeper, almost cursing you to bounce off of him.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, as spit begins to dribble from your open mouth, Steve's cock filled you to the brim, leaving you almost suffocatingly full, each stroke began before the last had even ended, somehow never letting you feel empty as his thickness engulfed your tight walls.

It had taken a while to get used to the sheer size of him, the first few times he'd made you come with just the tip, but god even know, years later, you felt like you were mere moments from collapsing onto him, cumming just from the sensation of his cock driving against your walls.

And as if Steve was reading your mind, he slips a hand to circle your clit, and all it takes is the roughness of his thick fingers before you’re cumming around him, your walls squeezing him tightly as your mind blackens. Your nails press into his back, scraping against the expansive muscle, causing him to groan loudly as your pussy practically flutters around him.

Steves presses sloppy kisses across your body, humming into you, nodding as he watches through hidden lids, growling as you moan his name loudly. He made you like this, a heaping blubbering mess incapable of even coherent English, he loves it, he craves it, the sight below him, refusing to blink of fear of missing even a second of your arched body, shaking violently.

“Let it out darling, let it out, I’ve got you babygirl” Steve murmurs. The sweet pet name Steve whispers, contrasts against the harsh pace he's resumed, pressing into you insatiable, even as the aftershocks of your orgasm continue to run through you.

“Just one more baby, just one more, can you give me one more? Hm? Will you let me empty my cum into this tight little hole?” Steve groans, as he grips the small of your back, pressing you into his chest as he loses all abandon. What seemed to be the last of Steve's restraints is broken as he rocks into you with such roughness all you can do is grip his arm tightly, head rocking against his shoulder as he slides his thick cock into your fluttering walls.

Holding you up with just one hand around your waist, Steve fucks up into you mid-air, eyes laser-focused on the image of his cock disappearing into your cunt, the slickness of your orgasm glistening across his length, and dripping down your folds.

Your walls tighten unconsciously as Steve thrust into you from a different angle, gliding his thick cock against your walls in ways you didn't think were possible, Steve groans your name as the feel of your tightenings walls grip his length, causing him to stifle as his thrust grow sloppy, unable to move as if your cunt has wrapped an iron grip on it.

Profanities fall from Steve's lips as he throws his head back, the dirty blond strands lying messy onto his forehead, Steve's grip on your waist tightens painfully, as he shoves the entirety of his length into your cunt, his cock still thrusting into you uncontrollably. And as if his own climax triggers your own, you throw your head back in equal ecstasy, revelling in the burning hot pleasure falling down the slope of your back. Thick white ropes of cum shoot into your quivering hole, coating your walls with its milky slick, both of your arousals leaking from between your folds.

You slump your back onto the kitchen countertop, the coolness of the granite causing you to groan as it eases the burning heat radiating off of your body thanks to the human furnace above you. Steve follows your motions slumping onto you, as he basks in the aftershocks of pleasure.

A moment passes, with you running your nails across his back before raking them through his dampened curls, humming gently against his heated chest. Steve signs in pleasured relief, pressing into you as if he wanted to get under your skin. You whisper into his ear, careful to keep your voice soft as the exhaustion of the mission becomes evident on his face.

“Well, that was quite the welcome,” You say, grinning into his ear

“I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you” Steve replies with a snort, raising his face from between the pillow of your breasts, a smirk gracing his once again softened features.

There was truth to what he was saying before, even in the throes of pleasure, in fact being distracted was an understatement. This mission was a particularly long one, and he missed the feeling of your sweet cunt wrapped around him so perfectly. There were countless times when Steve would find himself shamelessly thrusting into the column of his wrist thinking of you, nights in sweaty motel rooms where all he could think, all he could breathe was you. You were blissfully unaware of it, the times when he’d call and thrust to the voice and video of you, under the covers whilst you chatted obliviously to his salacious doings.

He just couldn't help it, you were just too good, and most days he could restrain himself but today? When the first thing he could smell was the musky scent of your slick between your thighs? And the scene that he walked into? He was ravenous. It didn't help that you were dressed in one of those frilly aprons, cooking a meal just for him, his sweet girl, so eager to have him home that you'd gotten up extra early.

There was a deeper part of him, one that longed for this to be the norm, coming home to those sweet hips swaying along to the music, his chest against your back as he danced along with you, fucking up into you against the hallway before eating dinner together.

“Dinners almost ready, ya know you’re lucky I put the roast in before you came or else we'd be having burnt potatoes and dry chicken,” You say, however making no motion to get up quite yet.

“My perfect amazing wife, you know I would eat it anyway” Steve sings songs, pressing a soft kiss onto your clavicle, before slowly rising from his slouched position across you. Gently pulling you into his arms with a soft “come here”.

“Besides, I’m feeling quite satisfied anyway” Steve whispers cheekily, looking down at you as you hug his torso.

“Not on god's green earth am I going to let a perfectly good chicken go to waste” You gruff, slapping Steve playfully, as you wobble towards the oven. Steve rushes forward, hand gripping your arm as he gently wraps you into his arms tutting disapprovingly, as he carries you bridal style towards the large leather couch in the living room.

Gently placing you down, Steve takes out the pot roast himself, groaning as he smells the caramelized onions and honey chicken oozing with bubbling juices and herbed vegetables stuffed around the meat.

“Fuck, this smells almost as good as you do pretty girl,” Steve says from the kitchen, you smile softly, your chest preening in happiness as you drink in his praises.

Fixing both of you a plate, Steve moves you to sit sprawled across his lap, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead as he breathes in the decadent scent you carried after sex. Steve leans in, his hot breath against your earlobe before he utters,

“Almost”

Divider by @firefly-graphics !

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